Missing Piece

In May 2012, our large rear projection TV had burned out and was located in our upstairs room. Rather than try to delicately move a broken TV down a curved staircase, I decided to take the easy route. I used my reciprocating saw to cut the TV in half horizontally, so that we could move the two halves outside to be removed. Inside the TV was a high-quality spotless mirror that I pulled out before cutting.

Alisha and I did a fun experiment in the back yard with that mirror. The reflection in the TV mirror wasn't like a normal mirror, it was a spot-on duplication because the mirror had no spots and no distortion. Alisha had me stand in the yard and point the mirror at an angle where she'd see a reflection of grass in the mirror. She took pictures with her cell phone and didn't modify them at all in photoshop. Here's what it looked like:

I'd like to use these pictures as a visual illustration of what it feels like for Roscoe to not be with us. It feels like a part of me is missing. It doesn't feel like a part of me has been severed, blown up, amputated, or burned off. It just feels like it's not there, and in its place is emptiness.

I don't expect that emptiness to ever go away. I will always be (and proudly identify myself as) "that guy who lost his 9 month old son". We will hopefully have other kids, but they won't fill the hole that Roscoe left. It's odd to think this way, because if we'd never had Roscoe then nothing would have been missing. However, he came into our lives and 9.5 months later he disappeared and took a part of us with him. We'll most certainly be happy, laugh often, and play frequently, so don't think this means we'll go into depression. It just means that we won't get that part of ourselves back until we're reunited with him again. Until then, we'll feel incomplete.

What Happened?

Shortly after Alisha got out of the hospital from her appendectomy surgery, we returned to the hospital to consult with a high-risk pregnancy doctor that we'd worked with prior to Roscoe being born. Dr. Mentakis was the one who we started seeing once they discovered that Roscoe had IUGR.

Dr. Mentakis explained to us that the source of Roscoe's problems were in the placenta (which we knew) and were caused by blood clots (which we didn't know). He said that roughly 15% of Roscoe's placenta was blocked by blood clots, rendering it ineffective. This was discovered through a post-birth analysis of the placenta.

He said that since this clotting occurred, there's roughly a 90% chance of it happening again if we take no corrective action. The corrective action that he recommended was to start Alisha on low-dose aspirin before getting pregnant, and then once she got pregnant to give her daily heparin shots (blood thinner). You may remember that Roscoe was on heparin to prevent clotting in his pulmonary vein stent. Alisha would need to administer the heparin shot to herself, so we didn't like the sound of that. Dr. Mentakis claimed that if we followed the recommendation the likelihood of a reoccurrence would drop to 10%.

We consulted with a naturopathic doctor to get a second opinion and some alternatives. The naturopathic doctor said that we could use vitamin K (which would be in any prenatal vitamin), fish oil / omega3 fatty acids, and garlic as natural blood thinners. After consulting with some of her colleagues, she confirmed that we should follow the recommendation of heparin shots. Once Alisha started the shots, we could get a blood test done to confirm/deny that she has a blood clotting disorder that would effect the placenta again. The result of that test would determine whether she needed to stay on the heparin.

Another issue Alisha will have to work through is a hypoactive thyroid. Her thyroid levels were slightly off, and that could effect nutrition to any baby were she to get pregnant. The naturopathic doctor heavily stressed that we'd need to get Alisha's thyroid in check (either with medication or supplements) before she got pregnant again. Add to that the need for her C-section scar to fully heal internally, and we're at least 6 months out from any attempts to have more children. We are excited to get started, but we want to wait until the time is right. Our prayer has been for God to grant us more children, but to do so safely and in the right time.

Mass for Roscoe

We were recently informed of a very sweet gesture toward Roscoe. Though we are not Catholic, St. Teresa Catholic Church in Oakland, CA held a mass in Roscoe's honor a few days ago:

I had assumed that the mass would have many named people attached to it, but by looking at their bulletin (see page 2) it looks like Roscoe was the only one on August 25th:

One Month

It has been one month since Roscoe passed away. Today Alisha and I were sitting on the couch and talked about how time has passed since our lives were drastically changed. Saying the words "my son died one month ago" makes it so much more real. I still don't think I've grasped the full reality of Roscoe's passing. I suppose reality will set in as time passes.

July 23rd seems equally yesterday and years ago. It seems like so much has happened since he passed. We've been to two follow-up doctors' visits to talk about avoiding issues like this in the future. Alisha had a significant surgery and has mostly recovered from it. I've returned to normal work activity. We've had many visitors and projects going on around the house. It seems like it would take much longer than one month for all of that to occur.

Then again, the night he died is still starkly vivid in my mind. I can replay scenes to myself and walk through the events as though they happened yesterday. The big smile he had while they tried to sedate him. The walk we took to the park. The shock of seeing his pupils uneven and walking down to the CT scan as people stared at this little boy with so many people around him. The discomfort and uneasiness in the doctor's face as he broke the news to me, then the tense walk upstairs when he recounted the situation to Alisha. Putting Roscoe's hands into the pie pan to make plaster molds as we propped him up on my lap. Singing to him with no beeping machines. Talking to him for hours with no intervention by the medical staff. Holding his body against my chest as he breathed his last breath, then wondering if that would be the last one or if he held one more. Feeling his entire body tense up twice after he'd breathed his last, with a strength that I hadn't felt during his lifetime. Laying him down into the bed as if he were asleep, but for the last time.

All of these memories continue to hover around me. At the same time I want them to leave and I want them to stay. I want them to leave because they tell me that Roscoe isn't coming back. I want them to stay because they are the last bits of life that I shared with him. It's hard to accept that it's only been one month since all of this happened.

Little Problems

Now that Alisha and I are back to a normal routine, we deal with little problems. No more life-or-death consequences or drastic decisions plague our minds. Mundane questions like what to eat for dinner or how to design our lawn become the big queries we must answer. Our problems have been reduced to tiny inconveniences, as small as ants. Actually, ants are our problem:

With Alisha's macro lens, we were able to capture details while the ants gleefully ate our prepared dinner of poison:

Watching Roscoe develop has given us a new appreciation for the creation that God has unfolded before our eyes. Typically our awe is triggered by stunning sunsets, towering mountains, or flowery fields ... but ants? Absolutely.

These tiny creatures communicate, organize, and learn all on their own. What sophisticated man-made robot has the abilities of an ant? They know how to build a nest, gather food, and return safely (unless I squish them first). Though wikipedia isn't a totally reliable source of information, I enjoyed reading this section which describes ant behavior. Keep a healthy appreciation for God's creation everywhere you look!

Giving Blood

Today I gave blood. I'd done it once before, but now it has much more meaning seeing how Roscoe benefitted from the blood that other people had donated. I don't know how much he received via transfusion during his lifetime, but I'm pretty sure that I have about a decade of blood donations ahead of me to try and pay it back:

Disney Museum

This past Wednesday, we took a trip to San Francisco to wrap up some loose ends. We weren't sure how the day would go, so we planned a Walt Disney Museum visit as our last stop in case we needed cheering up. During our stay in San Francisco in June and July, we'd seen banners advertising a special exhibition of Mary Blair artwork. We'd planned to visit the special exhibition during Roscoe's heart surgery but that opportunity never came. We thought this would be a good way to conclude our San Francisco visit.

Mary Blair was a concept artist who was very well-loved by Walt Disney. She'd create some concept art, upon which the animators would base their animations for the full-length movies. We got to see her concept art for Cinderella, Peter Pan, and Alice in Wonderland (shown below). She also helped design the infamous It's a Small World ride at Disneyland.

Some of the pictures we took are below. We (Alisha) often had to take pictures at weird angles to avoid a light reflection. These pictures we were looking at weren't lithographs or copies, these were one-of-a-kind concept art pieces upon which the movies were based. As you can see, some shots made it into the movie almost exactly like the original, and some didn't make it at all:

Cinderella

Alice in Wonderland

Peter Pan

She also did illustrations for children's books in the 1950's. It was fun for us when we realized that we'd read to Roscoe from some of the books she'd illustrated:

but now we were looking at the originals:

Hands and Feet

The final night that Alisha and I spent with Roscoe, the nurses arranged to do molds of his hands and feet. Since things came suddenly, they didn't have time to fully prepare so things were a little improvised. They partially filled an aluminum pie pan with dental alginate. While I held Roscoe sitting upright, we put his feet into the dental alginate while it was still wet. We held them there until the alginate hardened, then removed them and repeated with his hands. This left a detailed impression, like you'd see if someone put their hands into wet concrete.

The nurses then poured plaster into the hand and feet impressions to fill the rest of the pie pans. The result was a 3D mold of his hands and feet with very specific detail:

The detail of the wrinkles on his hands is astounding

You can even see a circular band-aid they had on his wrist

This foot pushed against the bottom of the pie pan

By the time we pushed this foot in, the dental alginate had already started to harden

I mentioned in the last blog post that there was a surprise waiting for us at UCSF when we returned earlier this week. The surprise was that I'd asked the staff at UCSF to do a second mold of his hands and feet. I did this because we were terrified about these first molds breaking. As you may have noticed above, his thumb broke while the plaster was not yet fully dry (we plan to glue it).

When we arrived at UCSF, we met some of the nurses and staff we had spent the most time with and they brought these new molds into the room for us. We loved the different angle, more complete view of his hands, and the ability to hold his feet:

Tomorrow I hope to update the blog with some pictures we took at the Disney museum. The update will come later in the day, since we have an appointment in the morning to speak with a nutritionist about any possible nutritional tools we could use to avoid IUGR / prematurity issues with future pregnancies.

For any moms who'd like to do something like this for your children, you can buy dental alginate and plaster online. It would be a fun craft project! Here's a link to how to do it.