Martinez Family 2024

Hello friends & family,

I suppose it is a sign of the weight of 2024 when I feel the need to start our annual update with a warning of sorts: this is not the usual, photo filled, upbeat Martinez update you have grown accustomed to over the last four years.
I write this now, December 18 (uncharacteristically super late in the season), five months into my new title of bereaved mother.

I fully acknowledge that is as shocking for you to read as it is for me to write.

I promise we are okay. Eric & I are now parents to three beautiful boys: two healthy & spunky ones here with us & one who waits for us in Heaven. We created a non profit in his honor & encourage you to visit thekpfoundation.org to learn more about Kaiden Paul Martinez & the legacy he leaves.

When talking about our yearly update, I told Eric I was really struggling with the words to write. Eric reflected “People just want to see pictures & have a short update. Just do that.” So here is exactly that:
– Eric completed his doctorate (DMS) this year. What a time in life to pursue another degree! We are so proud of him. By the end of this month, you will be able to call him, Dr. Eric Paul Martinez (in a nonclinical setting).
– Luke is a vivacious soon-to-be three year old. He is passionate about tractors, trains & the Houston Dynamo.
– Mateo Kole has tripled his birth weight. He is strong, observant & seems methodical in everything he does, even at only 5 months old.
– Ari & Rugenn remain passionate about balls (especially the ones that squeak & drive me crazy). They are ever vigilant to protect their yard from the seemingly endless multiplying felines next door.

If you want to take a pass on reading the rest of the update this year, we love you just the same!
We are the same people we were but also forever different. Among the shock & grief, there has been tons of beauty & hope in the year 2024. We hold onto that.
wishing you peace & quietude,
Eric + Emilie + Luke + Mateo + Kaiden

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…but leaving it ‘short & sweet’ & vague feels rather inauthentic to me (thank goodness I already outed myself as the author of these last year, not that anyone assumed otherwise). As a still relatively new griever, I have learned no one wants to talk about grief. Everyone wants to know what happened but no one wants to ask. Everyone wonders if you are okay but does not want to risk upsetting or reminding you. Let me assure you, you need not worry about reminding me. I think about Kaiden every day. He is forever part of us. Knowing you think & wonder about him too makes us feel less alone.

No one knows what to do when encountering grief. I have a hypothesis the correct answer is to just do/say something, anything. Doing nothing is the wrong answer. Usually, the bereaved person is the one who must take the first step & invite you to do something that helps us both feel less alone.

So, to live in the truth of my hypothesis, I have decided to do something: to share more of our story through my lens. What follows is a collection of experts from various personal writings over the past year which I have pieced together to share with those of you who wish to read.

thank you for being so gentle with me & so loving of our family,
Emilie

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Last year at this time, I ended our yearly update with a cheeky:

I realize each year our holiday card has been some big announcement: we’re married! we moved & are pregnant! Meet Luke Thomas! But there’s nothing big to announce this year…. yet!
Until the next kind of crazy –

The day I wrote that I had just taken a pregnancy test that morning: POSITIVE. I was writing the story of 2023 before I even told Eric the news. I rushed out, bought a “big bro” shirt for Luke & surprised Eric that night.

What is to follow is a (probably too long) roller coaster of what unfolded.

A little background:
We talked about our perfect little family: us, two kids – a boy & a girl, & a pack of high energy dogs (ok, maybe not everyone agreed fully on that last part). I viewed myself as rather objectively bad at being pregnant the first go round: sick, miserable, blood pressure all over the place, & a little hint of pre-eclampsia at the end. But our hearts exploded meeting Luke Thomas. We adore that kid & wondered if lightning could strike twice. I (selfishly) didn’t want to be pregnant when Eric turned a milestone birthday in the near future…

We were incredibly lucky to immediately get pregnant; we don’t take that little miracle lightly. Aaaaaand I was instantly extremely sick. Hyper emesis with an energetic 22-month-old is….something I won’t be doing again. Something felt different about this pregnancy…something felt wrong? Surely I couldn’t be THIS sick?! Perhaps it was being first trimester pregnant with a toddler in the house. Did I also have COVID? Was this a girl, they make you sicker, right? I texted my OB who brought us in for blood work & an early scan. Certain something was wrong, I went to get my blood drawn & we went later in the week for an ultrasound. Relief when we saw a little blob on the screen. Check back in a week.
But I was still so sick. Truly not functional (belated apologies for all of the holiday parties I skipped in 2023).

The follow up scan: a cute little blob with a heartbeat. But then, what was that? Looking closer… a second BLOB. WHAT?! Yup… twins.

I’ll spare you the mental gymnastics that come with wrapping your mind around twins when there are NONE in either side of the family & we were not on any fertility meds. One “baby blob” looked much smaller than the other so we were told one or both might not make it. Come back in a few days. Here’s more anti-emetics, good luck.

The next few weeks were full of emotions, sickness & Eric looking into things like selling a kidney to pay for his now THREE children. Weekly in office ultrasounds to ensure both still had heartbeats & were growing. Oh wait, genetic blood work is back: IT’S TWO BOYS.

We thought the first sigh of relief (ok maybe not relief but more like certainty or acceptance) would come at the 18 week full anatomy scan. Early in the scan, the tech said “Soooo do you guys live close?” We have learned this is medical code for “uh oh something is wrong that is going to change the trajectory of the next few weeks”. After the scan, a Maternal-Fetal-Medicine (MFM) physician came in the room to explain our boys themselves appeared healthy & were only 11% size discordant at that time but shared only one placenta making them Monochorionic Twins. Monochorionic twins occur in < 0.3% of ALL pregnancies & means they are IDENTICAL, one egg that split after fertilization. It also means there is a whole new word bank of problems which can arise if they begin sharing components of the placenta/pregnancy unequally. Luckily, they were Monochorionic but also Diamniotic meaning they each have their own little amniotic sac to keep them cozy. I believe the exact words from our beloved OB was “in Mo-Di twins, something weird <expletive> always happens…” so scans every 2 weeks.

A few scans passed & seemed ok. I was feeling confident or at least resolved enough in what was happening that I scheduled the 24 week scan at a time Eric was working. Again with the “sooooo do you live close?” The tech leaves, MFM MD walks in and says “is there someone you’d like to call to hear this news with you?”. He was absolutely lovely & caring but that was a gut punch. Shakily I got Eric on the phone & we learned one boy had a cardiac anomaly called a Ventricular Septal Defect (VSD). More waiting & seeing & unknowns. More scans. “We will know more when he’s born”.

At 28 weeks & 5 days, everything changed again. I noticed the placenta looked rather weird on that ultrasound. If I was being honest with myself, Twin A had been moving less that week. I thought maybe he was just getting squished? Then the dreaded ultrasound tech small talk of: “Soooooo do you guys live close”? Confirmation something was wrong. A different MFM clinician came in & explained the boys & the placenta they shared developed a rare condition called Spontaneous Twin Anemia Polycythemia Sequence (TAPS). She was going to get one of the TAPS MFM experts to come look, if he was available, but I might just need to be admitted to the hospital to potentially have placental laser ablation surgery, an intrauterine blood transfusion and/or deliver the Twinies within 24 hours… There was a whirlwind of 2-ish hours, checking on different machines, different people rechecking the same measurements, Eric stepping out to call my dad & ask him to go pick up Luke (which he did calmly & with no questions asked – what a saint!). Eventually, the consensus was yes we had TAPS but it was only Stage 1 so recheck again in 48 hours. We met Papaw Tom & Luke back at our house & all ate take out Thai food (Yes, our 2 year old loves Thai food) It felt like a strange calm in an unknown storm. Oh & our power had just finally been restored that day after 6 days of no power from the freak May ‘Derecho storm’ which hit Houston the week prior. A memorable May all around.

June is a blur. Final preparations, innumerrable scans. A feeling of relief the twins were growing concordantly & staying in utero! But also, a sense of worry & uncertainty. Clear, consistent guidelines don’t really exist when you’re dealing with a condition classified in the rare disease database (ORPHA code 617294, if you’re interested). Twin B’s VSD was stable if not improving. We were told that due to the possibility both boys might have aortic arch coarctation, the goal was to keep them in as long as possible. Challenge accepted.

There were some truly beautiful moments throughout a very challenging pregnancy…

We selected a C section date of July 3. All was well. Until it wasn’t.

July 1, 2024. I went in (solo) for the very last MFM scan for MCA dopplers (a crucial measurement of TAPS screening & monitoring) & to plan for a peaceful, scheduled C section July 3. There were actually many many miracles on July 1. Someday I will write all of them. But, for now, I will keep the synopsis very short: Twin B, Kaiden Paul, shockingly no longer had a heartbeat. Twin A, Mateo Kole, was in distress.

From then, I remember nothing yet everything all at once. An emergency c section: one baby screaming at 1:30pm, the other completely silent at 1:31pm.

I held both perfect little identical boys in my arms for a few brief moments before Mateo was whisked away to an urgent partial exchange transfusion.

Miraculously, our little Miracle Mateo (who has gained the precious nickname “Matato” like potato thanks to my niece who is convinced that is his true name), spent 15 days in the NICU. During that time he & I weathered a category 1 hurricane, navigated another power outage affecting our house (& thus logistics of Luke & the dogs), experienced a phone/EMR complete outage at the hospital, survived a major medical error & experienced the stress of being a NICU parent while also navigating the emotions & logistics of bringing one baby home & cremating the other.

It is truly unimaginable. But we are here. Different, but here.

Luke, our little light, truly thrived during this time. It is as if he could feel the love & intensity. A part of me thinks he always knew what would happen & was ready to carry time forward when it felt to stand still in my heart. He spent so much time with Grandma & Papaw, even taking a trip to Austin with just them for several days while our home was without power after the hurricant. He felt truly special when Tia Rachel flew in, no questions asked, the week our world fell apart. He met Mateo in the NICU & was ready to welcome him home. To this day, Luke sometimes goes & lays on top of Mateo, gently pressing against him just like Kaiden was in utero. As a mother, I hope they are always able to collectively fill for each other the hole Kaiden left in their worlds. Forever three brothers.

On August 9 (the twins’ 40 week due date) we celebrated Kaiden’s life with a service at Christ the King Lutheran Church. I gave my son’s eulogy. My best friend, herself a mother to three vibrant boys including a set of twins, was there to hold me together & handle so many logistics of that day.

That night Eric & I opened our home to our friends & family. It was a truly beautiful night that will live in my heart forever. There was as much love & authenticity as there was good wine (thanks Onkel Will!) & pizza. Young kids ran through the house & yard with Luke. There was laughter, tears, hugs. Kaiden gave all of that to us.

I believe I was still in the hospital recovering from my c-section when Eric came up with the goal of opening a charitable foundation in Kaiden’s honor to fund TAPS research & support other families facing the uncertainties of a TAPS diagnosis. While I was in a haze of grief & postpartum hormones, he filed all of the paperwork to found The Kaiden Paul Foundation.

We have already found so much meaning & hope in the work of the foundation. Through it, I have made “TAPS friends” all over the world. We truly hope the Kaiden Paul Foundation will bring support to those affected by TAPS & serve as a catalyst for research & innovation in management & treatment. One of my new international “TAPS friends” commented on a recent call that there is not someone in the US driving momentum of spontaneous TAPS work and “I think its you. I think you are the US TAPS person”. Weirdly, I would love nothing more than to grow into that role. A role & title I would rather not had, but, now that I do, might as well do the most with it.

Thank you to all of you who have already supported KPF. I sense we are headed toward big things in the future. You are doing that! Kaiden is doing that.

I like to end each year in gratitude. I think I would much rather say a collective “no thank you” to 2024. But, there are so many people who carried us through. Too many to mention here. Please know each of you live in my heart. Even if I did not say thank you or send a card, what you did in our times of need felt so loving. Thank you.

And to you, for caring enough about us to be reading this & continuing to send your prayers & positive vibes. We are forever grateful & feel your love.

May we all carry the lessons learned & intensity of love from 2024 into the years ahead.

with love,
Emilie