Obsessed

I am OBSESSED with Downton Abbey.  And not just because I love the name of the show (insert winky face ;)).  I started watching it on the plane to Israel (I think they had the first three episodes) and then came home desperate to see what was going to happen next.

I couldn't find it on Netflix, even though I know that it was streaming there at one point.  I know this because Ted and I had watched the first episode months before and hadn't been able to get into it (something that sounds completely ludicrous to me now).  I figured out that I could watch really fuzzy episodes on youtube - the pirated kind where I think someone records their tv screen with their phone and then posts it.  Those episodes were impossible to find and almost more impossible to watch.

I was about to give up streaming them until I figured out that I could watch them with my Amazon Prime account!  Praise the lord!  I watched the first three seasons back to back during any free moment I could find, only to get to Season Four and find out that Amazon wasn't streaming that one.  And if you know what happens at the end of Season three - you KNOW why I needed to get my hands on Season four immediately!

So I finally sat down at the computer and reorganized our Netflix DVD queue and threw all of the upcoming episodes, in order, up to the top (something Ted is extremely pleased about, I am sure).

I know you might be wondering why I am telling you all this because why the heck do I think you care about my latest television obsession? (Although, not that having no reason at all to tell you about my tv addiction has ever stopped me before).  But, here is the thing: a lot of people die on Downton Abbey.  In fact, the most important, loved and pivotal characters die - young and tragically.  Two of the main characters on the show are, by Season Four, bereaved mothers (and I think there are enough characters that I am not being a "spoiler" by telling you this).  And, while I think there are imperfections with their depiction of the grieving process - I'd say that it gets much closer than most anything else I've seen.  And the writing!  They way these characters express my thoughts!  It's (dare I say) Magical.  I recognize and relate to the anger, the jealousy, the complete paralysis, and the inability to look past one's own grief.  I am more consumed with those stories than I am with the love stories (and those are pretty good too).  I think about them all of the time - wondering how the writers are going to write the next stage of grief - praying that they won't let any of the grievers move on too quickly - hoping that they will recognize all of the right triggers that would set off someone who was really in grief.  It will never be perfect, because it is still fiction, but they do a pretty good job.

It seems that still, after almost three years without Max, I am searching for connections with the ways other people deal with death and grief - it's even good enough for me when the most authenticity I can find is in fictional characters.  The "problems" of non aggrieved characters fall flat for me.  In fact, it's hard to believe, but I haven't chosen a romantic comedy in ages.  It's not that I won't watch anything else, you know I will....but I definitely prefer content that includes deep grief, post traumatic stress and complete upheaval.

A few brilliant Downton Abbey quotes that really sum it up for me and have left me in puddles of my own tears:

"You see, when your only child dies, then you're not a mother anymore. You're not anything really. And that's what I'm trying to get used to."

"“…but you see I have this feeling that when I laugh or read a book or hum a tune, that it means that I’ve forgotten him, just for a moment and it’s that, that I cannot bear.”

"When one loses a child, is it really ever over?"

"I’m not unhappy. I’m just not quite ready to be happy."

"You are being tested. And you know what they say, my darling -- being tested only makes you stronger."

"This tragedy will either make or break your marriage. Hold each other tight and never take one another for granted."
 

Garbage Day

If you have (or have had) a little boy, you might know where I am going with this.....

The little boys at Maxie's daycare loved garbage day.  They could hear the truck coming from a block away....the low growl of the machine humming along the road....the day's best entertainment only minutes away.  They would all run to the window anxiously anticipating the excitement about to come.  And THEN - the garbage truck would pull up to the house and they'd all go wild!  They'd wave and cheer, and when they were lucky (otherwise known as almost every trash day), the garbage man would wave back.

I loved watching them on garbage day.  I loved getting a peek into the boyish joy that would one day be my Maxie's too.  He'd definitely get caught up in the excitement of it all. It was impossible not to.  Even this 37 (at the time) year old woman did!

My Mo loves trucks.  He loves tractors and excavators and U-hauls....and he really loves garbage trucks.  There is a familiar and sad feeling that comes over me when we hear that garbage truck grumbling down our street and then the "beep, beep, beep" of it backing into place.  In our house, we have to stop everything to either rush to the window or run outside (which really depends on whether I have put on a bra yet).  Then Mo points and points and babbles like crazy, so full of excitement.  And when the garbage truck finally disappears around the corner, Mo says "Bye, Bye" as loud as he can while waving his little hands in the air.  I love it....and it breaks my heart.

All the reminders - there is really no end - they are everywhere.  I wish I'd seen that little boy of mine run to the window with his daycare buddies.  Even more, I wish I could see him doing it with his little brother today.

The Evolution of Me

I am not an evolved person.  I am SUPER regular (and unevolved).  I always have been.  I gossip and talk smack and like to tease the people I love (they don't always love it).  I am far, far, far, far, far from perfect.....like most people.

When Maxie died (and still today) there was (and is) a pressure to be suddenly evolved.  I felt that people looked at me, hoping that I  would be more understanding of the difficulty they had in dealing with the death of my son - afterall, it was too hard (for them).  I was expected to easily forgive people for saying words that hurt me, to understand that this death was random and that we just happened to be the unlucky ones.  I was expected to be suddenly evolved.  Our role (and perhaps this was completely imagined), was to make sure that nobody would feel bogged down by our loss, to put on a brave face, to be a perfect grieving couple - loving and supportive of each other at all times, to make something good out of Maxie's death.  This was and is a LOT of pressure.  It is not something that I have been able to live up to.  Ted does a better job than me...but it is hard for him too.

Sometimes the responses that I have to the things that happen around me are not what I want them to be and I am actually ashamed of my reactions.  I get jealous, I feel raw, I cannot handle things that I want to be able handle.  I want to be there for friends who are going through hard times - I do - and I try so hard - I promise, but then every once in a while I get jealous that my hard time is SO MUCH harder (and maybe it just FEELS so much harder because it is happening to me).  When that happens, I hate myself for feeling that way and I try to remember what our grief counselor always said, "To compare is to despair".  It is something that I will likely be repeating to myself for life.  I also want to be there for friends going through wonderful things - and then every once in a while I feel jealous of all of their hope and happiness - I remember what it was like to be embarking on a new stage of life and never thinking that it would all come crashing down.  I envy that feeling - that there would be a "happily ever after" for me.  My biggest challenge in life these days is realizing that there won't be.  

What I mean to say here is that however flawed I started - I am just as flawed (or more) today. Sure, there are pieces of me that I like better today...but not many.  I am working on transcending these feelings but I am also working on keeping my grief in check, getting through each day, being a good mother, having another child, keeping my job, losing this baby weight already!  Sometimes it all just feels like too much.  I guess what I am asking is for you to keep your expectations in check.  I cannot be the person who models  getting through personal tragedy because I am not through it.  I am still very much in it and it is hard.  Still.

Conflicted

I've been feeling very conflicting lately about my blog. I fear that by writing about our experience and our profound sense of loss and horror, that I've somehow cheapened the experience or commoditized Maxie's brief life. I worry that I somehow threw Maxie's death into a bucket with all of the other disappointing and upsetting things that happen in life, where I meant to set it apart. What I've meant to say is that Maxie's life was more precious to me than even my own and that any thing that could ever happen to ME would pale in comparison to what happened to HIM.

My life's disappointments before and since losing Maxie don't add up to even a small pile compared to the mountain that is his loss of life. They are the things that happen to us all because sadly, life is messy. What happened to our lives the day that Maxie stopped breathing goes so far beyond "messy".  But, words are inadequate.  Woefully inadequate.

Because there is no explaining & there is no imagining, there is no way to verbally elevate the loss of our son to the degree at which it stands - "outshining" all of the awful and horrific happenings I could have ever imagined happening to me, anyone I love, or to the little boy - the person - who meant more to us than anyone ever had before.  I feel almost embarrassed that I've even tried to explain it and I am not really sure what to do moving forward.

At Once

There is a theme of questioning that keeps coming back, which almost sounds like an accusation, even though I don't think it is meant to be.  It's "Have you allowed yourself to really love and attach to Mo?"  It seems like a crazy question to me but I get asked this all of the time - almost always by people who've never really seen me with Mo.   I guess when people hear me crying and feeling so helpless and destroyed by Maxie's death, they assume that means I must not have enough love leftover for Mo.  I'm pretty sure that if Max were alive, nobody would ask me that question. 

I know plenty of people with more than one child, and somehow, they manage to love them all.  They can actually go through periods of being a little more worried about one child, or attending to the health of another - but nobody ever bothers to wonder whether they have enough space for all of the children.  There is no question because we know that it is biological and completely normal for a parent to love each of their children with equal passion and enthusiasm.  There is no question because we can see them loving their children equally.  If you saw me with Mo, I don't think there would be a question.  I love him completely - with my entire soul - with every cell in my body.  He acts like a child who is given boatloads of love too.  I never worry that he doesn't feel our love.

What is funny is when I really button up, when I focus all of my attention on Mo and put thoughts of Max out of my mind, I get, "Have you allowed yourself to grieve?".  As if I am somehow emotionless because I am not crying right then.  It's actually a somewhat hilarious conundrum.  If I am not sharing and crying all of the time - I am cold.....if I am sharing and crying - I am stuck. 

I know, better than most, how possible it is to be fully sad and disappointed by life and at the very same time - in the exact same moment, in fact - feel completely filled with joy.  It is hard to imagine.  I know.  I hope you never ever feel it.  But, when I cry about Max...  When I talk about how much I miss him...  When I sob over my broken heart and his beautiful life that ended much too quickly - it doesn't mean that I've forgotten the perfect, hilarious, smart, interested, lovely little boy that is his little brother.  He is the light of my life - the one I am able to give my whole heart to - the most special person in my world. 

Don't worry - Mo is loved.  Completely and thoroughly. As is Maxie.  Forever and ongoing.  To the Moon and back....and back...and back. 

Advice from a friend

I have been wanting to talk to my new friend Molly (who lost her beautiful daughter Lucy 4 1/2 years ago) for months now.  I keep texting her and calling her - like a complete stalker.  I finally got her on the phone yesterday and had no idea what I even wanted to say to her.  I think I just wanted to be reminded that someone who I really like, who is funny and fun and wonderful, has gone through....is going through what we are going through - pain, loss, heartbreak, devastation.  Or, like I told her, maybe I just have a "girl crush" on her.

We talked for a while, while both of our new babies napped (her Zoe is 4 1/2 months old).  She gave me some good advice that she has learned through trial and error.  My BIGGEST question for all bereaved parents is what they say to people who ask how many kids they have.  I know that I will never ever deny Max, but how exactly do I say it?  I have asked practically every bereaved parent I know.  They tell me "Oh, I tell everyone who asks" and then I say, "What are the exact words you use?" because it is all too terrible to even say out loud.  I have heard all sorts of answers.  People always tell me to just say that Max is dead - "Screw people if they can't handle it," they tell me, "you have to handle it every minute of every day".  Agreed.  On the one hand.  On the other hand, even I would like benign conversation once in a while.  When people ask me, they don't really care....and I also don't really care to share Max, my love, with someone who is just asking to ask. I end up sharing my deepest pain with a complete stranger, which is just too ironic since I am hardly ever asked to share it with people who I have known most of my life.  Lately I have just been saying, "We just celebrated my oldest son's second birthday", because we did.  I am not not disclosing the whole story to be kind to the person I am talking to (by not ruining their day and telling them about Max)...I am being kind to me.  If they say, "Does he like being a big brother?", I can say, "I think he really does."...because I think he really does.  

Molly told me that when she is meeting a new person, she doesn't tell them right away.  She gets to know them first and lets them get to know her.  She finds that when she does that, and they later find out what happened to Lucy, they are softer with her...because they already love her.  I don't want to be defined as "that woman whose baby died".  I don't want to be scary.  Sheesh, if I have friends and family that are scared of me because Max died, just imagine what it is going to be like for me when I start meeting new people.  I don't want Max or me to be defined by his death (though I know and want it to be part of our definition).  I would rather be (mostly) defined by his life, which was amazing and beautiful and the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me.  I want HIM to be defined by his life - which should still be happening now...because he was only a baby.

I cried and told her how mad I am, how sad I am, how deep this hole is.  She agreed....it is deep.  "I promise it gets easier", she said.  I've heard it before.  I know it is true.  It feels so shitty to know it gets easier.  Of COURSE I want it to get easier...but, on the other hand, do I really want the death of my child to get easier?  Ugh.  Again - Ugh. Double UGH!  

I got off the phone with her with Mo woke up from his nap and I then sent her an email thanking for the chat..  I checked my email a little while later and received the most beautiful return email from her:


It does help to talk to someone in our same club. There is no substitute for that--that's for sure. And I didn't feel one bit that you had vague questions or what have you. I hope I helped in some way. 

I wanted to send an email anyway to recap some of what we talked about and give you some assignments. :)

Ok--

1. Listen to Eckhart Tolle (A New Earth and The Power of Now). His voice takes a bit to get used to but his teachings REALLY resonate with me and have helped me greatly. 

2. Give people the benefit of the doubt. They are learning about grief and honesty and pain and communication and human interaction and love like we are. Our words are woefully inadequate to express the deepest feelings of our souls. Luckily, we'll communicate spirit to spirit in the next life. 

3. Breathe. Be easy on yourself, like you said. Treasure your little Mo and honor your little Max through enjoying the moment. 

4. Let yourself be angry. Let yourself feel whatever you are feeling. There is no "should". All things will pass and cycle through. 

5. Pray. Just talk outloud to God and tell him whatever you are feeling. Ask him for strength or whatever it is you need. Clarity, patience, your mind and heart to be opened to learned and personal revelation for you and your life. 

I don't know. After Lucy died I needed people to tell me what to do. My frontal cortex, where we make our decisions, was shot to hell with the trauma. So now I'm telling you a few things to do...because I love you and want you to find peace. 

I asked her if it was ok to share her email with you all because 1) I think it is helpful for other bereaved parents and because 2) I want you to know how wonderful Molly is.

Before Lucy died, Molly was starring in the lead role of a local theater production of Peter Pan.  Lucy went to see it many times and loved seeing her momma flying around the room.  She carried around a Peter Pan doll.  When I picture Lucy, I picture her hugging that little doll as I have seen her do in so many pictures.  Her mommy was her hero.  Her mommy is mine too.

My Pictures and Videos

When Maxie was alive, we took lots of photos of him.  I wanted to remember all of his moments and looks as he grew.  I wanted to share him as much as possible with his Gigi and Papa, his Auntie Beth and Cousin Sadie on the east coast.  I wanted to have lots of memories to show him when he got older.  Thank god for all of the photos we took, they are all I have left of our baby boy.  I kick myself every day for not taking more videos.  I can't figure out why we didn't...I mean, our phones have video cameras on them these days!  What the hell were we thinking?  Certainly not that our baby would die....

I am taking lots of photos and videos of Mo.  I want to remember every minute, I want to share him with his East Coast family, I want to show him when he grows up how cute he was when he was little.  I also want to make sure I capture every smile, every funny face, every playful interaction, every snuggle, every THING so that if I lost him (god forbid) I would remember all of these things.  I know you don't approve and you don't want to hear it.  But, every time I take a photo or a video of Mo, I think, "I will want to remember this in case we lose him too".  My phone and camera are quickly filling up.  I feel like I can't delete any of his pictures...if I do and I lose him, I won't be able to get the pictures back.  It is one of the many neuroses brought on by losing my son.  I worry that I don't have enough images of other people in my life too - Ted, my mom, my dad, my brother.  If they die, will I forget how they held their glass or how they couldn't carry a tune?  Will I forget their laugh?  Will I forget their voice?  There isn't a hard drive big enough for all that I need to document.

Ted and I have always sort of made fun of the people that video everything.  You know...those people in line at Disneyland who have their camera and are videoing the line, the ride, their snacks.  They are all over Costa Rica and other vacation spots, videoing the van ride to the zip line place, videoing the zip line, videoing lunch afterwards.  I get it now....even though I don't think they are making "in case someone in this video dies" videos.  I get it, even though those "in case someone in this video dies" are the kind of videos and picture I take.