His heavy load

Last week, Mo and I were sitting at our kitchen table after Ted had brought the babies upstairs to start getting ready for bed. We were doing his homework together (yes, he has homework!) when he put down his pencil and said that he'd had a sad dream the night before. Before I could ask him what it was about, he followed up by asking, "Mommy, sometimes do you feel so sad that you feel like you could start crying and never stop?". "Yes," I said, "I have felt that way before. If you feel like you need to cry, you should, and I promise that you will be able to stop. You won't cry forever." Then, with that, he started bawling. I mean, really, really crying. Tears rolling down his little cheeks, shoulders shaking, little face turning red.

"I can't believe Max died", he said. "I just can't believe it. He was here and now he isn't. He was only a baby. Why did he have to die?". Such sorrow. So deeply felt.

I hugged him tight and he cried and cried. And then, "I miss Layla". Layla - our dog, who we had to say goodbye to a few weeks ago. After Layla died, we struggled with how we would tell the kids. But then they didn't seem to notice. They didn't ask about her or look for her and so we were lazy. We said nothing. On our way to the airport for Christmas break in LA, Mo asked who would be taking care of Layla while we were gone. Ted and I looked at each other. "When was the last time you saw Layla?", I asked. He burst into tears. "She's dead, isn't she?", he asked. He knew. He just didn't want to face it and if we didn't talk about it, he could pretend like everything was fine. Myla added her two cents, "Layla is at the doctors", she said.

Mo often asks me who Max is in heaven with and I tell him - he is there with mommy and daddy's grandparents and all of our pets. I don't really get into too many other people, because I think it is hard enough for him to absorb that grandparents die and that he has a big brother, who is a baby, in heaven. I'm conflicted about whether the concept of heaven is even the one that I should be teaching him - because I struggle myself with believing in and understanding what happens, if anything, after we die. I do think it is about all his tender little heart can handle at this point.

I shared this story with a bereaved parents group that I am part of. Many others in the group had similar stories - of children, who never met their siblings, but grieve nonetheless. We wondered together whether our children are grieving because they know that we are grieving, or because they think that they should be, or because they truly feel a sense of loss around having a sibling that they've never met: a sibling that they could be sharing fun and secrets and love with right now. Probably a combination of all of those things. All I know is that it breaks my heart. My sweet, caring, sensitive, empathetic boy. It's too much for a child to know. How it makes me truly envy those who don't have to think about any of this stuff. It's too heavy for me - imagine the gigantic load that he carries.

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.

Uplifting

I woke up in the worst mood - sad, defeated and depressed. But then we went here:

A drive up Route 2, a nature walk with my boys and then lunch at a forested biker bar really cleared my mind. Happy Memorial Day Weekend.

Mo's First Swim Lesson

It was on Sunday. He did great! So did his daddy!

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. 

Escape

I wish there was someplace I could go to escape - from people, from life, from all of the noise.  I would take Mo and Ted and leave everyone else behind.  I think about it all of the time. All of the time.

But there is nowhere to go because most of the noise is in my head and the place I envision isn't even on earth. I sometimes think I can get there through meditation, but being alone with myself usually makes the thoughts louder. Then I think what I really need is distraction, but there is no distraction and inevitably I come back to myself.

I'm tired- and I'm ready for something mind blowingly GOOD! Good like Max! Good like Mo. I am tired of feeling sorry for myself.  Tired of all of this noise.

Flight Time

While I am looking forward to my trip to Israel in a couple of weeks, the stuff that I am most excited about isn't necessarily what you might think it is.  It isn't being in the holy city of Jerusalem, or spending a beautiful Shabbat day in the coastal resort town of Eilat.  It isn't even enjoying my FAVORITE breakfast of all time - Israeli cottage cheese and a big salad.  Almost everything I am most looking forward to will actually happen on the plane on the way there.  I kind of can't believe that I'm even saying (or thinking this).

I think that the flight is around 14 hours direct.  That means 14 hours of "me" time (plus extra time in the airport before my flight).  I will be able to watch movies, listen to music, sleep and read whatever I want.  (And, yes, I will be sitting in coach).  Flying lately means having a baby on my lap, who is bored and fussing when I am lucky; crying and screaming when I am not.  There is no reading (HA) or listening to music (the headphones would be pulled out of my ears in two seconds) or watching tv/movies (same).  Since it is an international flight - I might even have a couple of drinks - and I don't even necessarily mean alcoholic ones - I just mean drinks that won't get spilled in my lap.

The truth is that I am not even complaining about flying with a baby.  I am so lucky to have Mo.  He can scream and cry and flail all over the place.  I'll still cover his cheeks in kisses and throw dirty looks at anyone who complains about him.  I am not excited AT ALL about being away from Mosie for a whole week.  The thought is actually totally anxiety provoking - but I plan to enjoy the pants off those first 14 + hours.

Mother of two

I am a mother of two, only mothering one here on earth.
I am a mother of two and everything in me is split:
While I feel happy in many moments these days, the big picture is devastating, unfathomable and so so sad.
In every happy moment is deep, raw, painful, gut wrenching angst.
My heart is in two pieces - it is broken in two.   It is broken.
Part of me is working hard to be present HERE, with the living.
The other part of me cannot wait for it to be over, so I can go be with him.  I am so looking forward to it.  I cannot wait to see him again.
My laughter releases the pent energy of sorrow and pain not of joy.
How strange.
My heart is full of Mo.  I am so in love.
My heart is empty and totally dead without Maxie.  I want to die.
I can't make sense of any of it, I am just trying to get through it.
We are really down to one day at a time.
I couldn't do that before.
Now it is my only choice.
Please don't ever forget that though you only see one, I am a mother of TWO.

Halloween's Back

I am so grateful to have Halloween back!  My friend Annie and her baby, Riley, came over yesterday for a Halloween photo shoot.  We just happen to have the exact same costumes for our babies.  I mean she literally said, "I have 2 costumes for Riley - a kermit and a giraffe", and I was like, "I have those costumes too!  Bring em on!"  How weird!  ....Or not.  She and I are very much alike actually....although I would NEVER buy these crazy muppet masks, the fact that SHE has them is one of the MANY reasons I love her.  She never dresses up like the sexy kitten, or the naughty schoolgirl....she is always in some kind of funny, not so sexy, man costume.  When we first became friends, she had a "rock and roll" birthday party and dressed as a very manish "Prince" (as in artist formerly known as the "artist formerly known as Prince") complete with a jheri curl mullet wig and with a skinny mustache and all (from the Purple Rain days).  Anyway, as you can see...we had a lot of fun.  I'm so happy Halloween is back!

This last outfit was made for Mo by a woman who I told Maxie's story to months ago.  I've never met her, she just wanted to do something nice for us.  She didn't even know how much I love Halloween!

Also - can you believe Mo is three months old and Riley is eleven?  I swear in these pictures Mo looks almost as big as Riley, right?  Riley weighs more but Mo is seriously almost as long.

Sending love and strength to the East Coast, where Halloween is mostly not happening this year because of Hurricane Sandy!!

Life changing boy

Continuing on the theme of yesterday's post, Mo has changed my life in so many ways.  He has made it possible for me to go to the supermarket, go to the Farmer's Market, go to the mall.  My mom and I even took Mo to the "Mommy Movie" (Pacific Theaters has a showing of new releases once a week.  They dim the lights, and set up tables for changing babies, and moms come and breastfeed during the movie).  These are things I could not have done last year.  My heart hurt too much.  And, don't get me wrong, my heart still hurts BADLY.  I miss Max with every second of every minute of every hour of every day.  But, I can separate that longing for MY baby from the feelings of jealousy and pain that were brought on by seeing OTHER PEOPLE'S babies.  It has changed my life.

So, while I am focusing on this little miracle baby, Mo, I wanted to share another quick video of my special, special boy.  It's embarrassing that you will hear how much baby talk I do with my boys, but that's what makes them smile (Mo and Max, that is...not Ted) and I am ALL about making my boys smile (Ted too)!

What a difference a Mo makes!

I recognize yesterday's post was super random.  I guess my point, without saying it was that I had been mindlessly rapping along with this incredibly violent and dark song for all of these years.  Ted and I even get excited when it comes on the radio because it reminds us of the early nineties and because we know all of the words.  But, I have never even fully listened to what I've been saying.  It's weird how mindless we can be as we go through life.  When I really listened to what the song was saying, what I was saying, I finally understood what the song was about.  It was a really weird and mindful moment.

And speaking of mindful...... I went to this conference with my Auntie Alison on Saturday.  The weekend was full of all sorts of interesting authors and speakers, but I was really only interested in two: John Holland and Dr. Brian Weiss so I just joined her on Saturday.  These are two of the guys that I have been reading and following - two who have helped me believe (sort of) that there might be more than this life and that Maxie might be waiting for me when mine is over.  You know it is just too hard for me to believe that Max is just buried in a box on the side of a hill near my house (I just got the chills when I wrote that...the thought shakes me to my core).

I have never seen Dr. Brian Weiss before but I read his book, "Many Lives, Many Masters", right after Max died.  A friend's mother brought it for me to Maxie's shiva.  It helped her greatly after her daughter died three years ago.  I REALLY liked Dr. Weiss, a psychiatrist and past life regressionist, and I will tell you that it had less to do with the subject matter that he was speaking about and much more to do with his dry sense of humor and his gentle demeanor.  He reminded me of my grandpa Jack.  Dr. Weiss also lost a baby boy many, many years ago.  He says that his son's death set him on the path that he is on.  He wants to help others with healing because he knows how awful deep grief is.

I have seen John Holland, a world famous medium, before (at the afterlife conference in Phoenix, AZ in March).  He was AMAZING then.  He was AMAZING Saturday too.  Though I love him, and I really do...I don't think I can see him live again for a while.  It is too stressful.  I want him to pick me so bad.  The only thing that was less inspiring about Saturday's session than the ones we saw in AZ were the people that were picked.  In Phoenix, he picked mostly bereaved parents and spouses - the stories were all tragic.  You could see the MAJOR healing that the messages gave the people who were picked.  On Saturday, there were a lot of grandparents and older parents that "came through".  So, while the messages touched the souls of the people being read in a big way, I didn't get the feeling that they completely altered lives in quite the same way.  Tragedy is just different than an older person reaching the end of their life to me for some reason.  This is just a personal opinion.

What I really wanted to write about today though, was about a woman who was sitting in the front row, dead center, in John Holland's presentation.  She was two rows in front of us.  I could tell with one look that she was a bereaved parent.  She looked desperate for a reading.  She was surrounded on either side by women who were rubbing her back and speaking to her with sympathetic eyes and loving tones.  She was gripping her tissue and shaking slightly.  There was a DARK cloud hanging over her.  I just KNEW she had lost a child.  Side note: recall when Inigo Montoya KNOWS that he hears the "Man in Black's" scream in the Princess Bride?  He says he knows that it is his scream because his true love is marrying another that day.  He knows about the Man in Black's scream the way I knew that this woman was a bereaved parent.  It was pretty much confirmed for me when John Holland said, "If you are hoping to get a message today, send up the love to your loved ones who have crossed over".  I saw her open a photo on her iphone of a young woman's California ID and stare at it while mouthing a prayer to herself.  Oh lord!  I know that desperation well!  TOO well!  He didn't read her.  At the end of the session he asked if anyone had questions for him (presumably we didn't have enough time for one last reading) and she stretched up in her chair so high.  The women next to her were pointing at her as if to say, "Pick this woman, she NEEDS to talk to you".  He didn't pick her.  After his session was over, she tried to chase him out the side door as he was being whisked away.  Early grief is so dark.  I can see why people believe that too much dependence on mediums can be dangerous for a grieving person.  It was as if her whole life depended on getting his attention.  Ugh.  Seeing her desperation, I remembered my own anguish on a cellular level.  All I could think was to tell her what parents who have had to go through this before me have been telling me - "It DOES get easier".  And really, "easier" is not the right word - more accurate words might be "different" or "more bearable". I didn't approach her though.  I just needed to take care of myself and I was having a good day.  Selfish but true.  I don't think she would have cared what I had to say anyway.  She had a one track mind.

When I came back to the conference after lunch time, I got there a little early and decided to kill some time in the stores in the area (Colorado Blvd in Pasadena is filled with the cutest shops and restaurants).  I found the CUTEST baby store called "Buttercup" with the most expensive fancy strollers that I think I have ever seen.  They have a bunch of other really cute baby stuff too.  I was browsing the store for a present for Mo when it hit me that I could not have stepped foot into this store in the year after Max died and before Mo was born.  If I had seen the front of it, it would have felt like someone had thrown acid in my eyes.  But, there I was, browsing around, picking up board books and touching cute little outfits.   Whoa!  What a difference a Mo makes!  And, there it was...."Goodnight Moon".  Maxie's favorite book.  We have three copies: one is at my mom's house, one is too big to read to Mo yet, and the third was buried with Max.  I decided it was a good time to buy another copy for our house to read to Mozie.  Sounds like nothing, but it was a big, monumental move for me.  Maxie would be proud.

Another case of PTSD

I went to a conference with my aunt yesterday, which I will tell you more about later.  Teddy stayed home with Mo yesterday and they had an important father/son bonding day.  I came home for a couple of hours around lunch time to hang out.  I found them in the backyard, sharing a sweet and quiet moment together.  Mo is healing both of our hearts.  

Anyway, on my way home I was listening to Sirius radio's backspin station...it's all hip hop and rap music from my high school and college years.  I love it.  An old favorite of mine (and Ted's) came on and for like the first time EVER, I actually listened to the words I was saying.  Oh my god, I thought, this song is about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  Seriously!  All of the things I spoke about in my post traumatic stress post - paranoia, feelings of depression, thoughts of suicide, rage and anger, need to isolate, inability to cope.  

A COMPLETELY different situation than losing a child, or being a vet...but still grief, loss and flashbacks.  Geto Boys' song about the horrors of urban gang life. 

Only a VERY select few of you will know or remember this song.  Disclosure - SO MUCH profanity....don't even listen or read the lyrics below if you can't handle it.  Don't say you haven't been warned. 

Geto Boys - Mind playin tricks on me

Intro: scarface 
I sit alone in my four-cornered room 
Staring at candles 
Oh that sh*t is on? heh 
Let me drop some sh*t like this here 
Real smooth 
Verse one: scarface 
At night I can't sleep, I toss and turn 
Candle sticks in the dark, visions of bodies being burned 
Four walls just staring at a nigga 
I'm paranoid, sleeping with my finger on the trigger 
My mother's always stressing I ain't living right 
But I ain't going out without a fight 
See, everytime my eyes close 
I start sweatin, and blood starts comin out my nose 
It's somebody watchin' the ak' 
But I don't know who it is, so I'm watchin my back 
I can see him when I'm deep in the covers 
When I awake I don't see the motherf****r 
He owns a black hat like I own 
A black suit and a cane like my own 
Some might say "take a chill, b" 
But f*** that sh**, there's a nigga trying to kill me 
I'm pumping in the clip when the wind blows 
Every twenty seconds got me peeping out my window 
Investigating the joint for traps 
Checking my telephone for taps 
I'm staring at the woman on the corner 
It's f***ed up when your mind is playing tricks on you 
Verse two: willie d [ Lyrics from: http://www.lyrics
I make big money, I drive big cars 
Everybody know me, it's like I'm a movie star 
But late at night, somethin ain't right 
I feel I'm being tailed by the same sucker's head lights 
Is it that fool that I ran off the block 
Or is it that nigga last week that I shot 
Or is it the one I beat for five thousand dollars 
Thought he had 'caine but it was gold medal flour 
Reach under my seat, grabbed my popper for the suckers 
Ain't no use to be lying, I was scareder than a mother*****r 
But they're laughing at pow pies and buried that quick 
If it's going down let's get this shit over with 
Here they come, just like I figured 
I got my hand on the mother**cking trigger 
What I saw'll make your ass start giggling 
Three black, crippled and crazy senior citizens 
I live by the sword 
I take my boys everywhere I go 
Because I'm paranoid 
I keep looking over my shoulder and peeping around corners 
My mind is playing tricks on me 
Verse three: scarface 
Day by day it's more impossible to cope 
I feel like I'm the one that's doing dope 
Can't keep a steady hand because I'm nervous 
Every sunday morning I'm in service 
Praying for forgiveness 
And trying to find an exit out of the business 
I know the lord is looking at me 
But yet and still it's hard for me to feel happy 
I often drift while I drive 
Havin fatal thoughts of suicide 
Bang and get it over with 
And then I'm worry-free, but that's bullshit 
I got a little boy to look after 
And if I died then my child would be a bastard 
I had a woman down with me 
But to me it seemed like she was down to get me 
She helped me out in this sh**
But to me she was just another b**** 
Now she's back with her mother 
Now I'm realizing that I love her 
Now I'm feeling lonely 
My mind is playing tricks on me 
Verse four: bushwick bill 
This year halloween fell on a weekend 
Me and geto boyz are trick-or-treating 
Robbing little kids for bags 
Till an old man got behind our ass 
So we speeded up the pace 
Took a look back and he was right before our face 
We'd be in for a squab' no doubt 
So I swung and hit the nigga in his mouth
He was going down, we figured 
But this was no ordinary nigga 
He stood about six or seven feet 
Now, that's the nigga I'd been seeing in my sleep 
So we triple-teamed on him 
Dropping them motherf***** b's on him 
The more I swung the more blood flew 
Then he disappeared and my boys disappeared, too 
Then I felt just like a fiend 
It wasn't even close to halloween 
It was dark as f*** on the streets 
My hands were all bloody from punching on the concrete 
God damn, homie 
My mind is playing tricks on me