Maxie's Tribute Pages

As many of you know, I am a professional fundraiser.  I ask people for money for a living.  That being said, I am ALWAYS uncomfortable asking my friends for money.  So many people have contributed to Maxie's forest either through the original site or through Beth's marathon page.  Colleagues, friends, relatives, even strangers have made a donation.  For those of you who haven't made a donation yet, if you can find it in your hearts (because I KNOW you can find $18 in your pocket), it would mean so much to us to have you support Beth's efforts as the sole representative of "Team Maxie" running the NYC marathon on November 6th.  For our close friends, look at it this way - you don't know what to say and that feels bad, and you will never ever have the opportunity to buy Maxie a birthday, Hanukkah or Bar-Mitzvah present.  This actually goes a long, long way and we notice it and for reasons that are hard to explain, it means SO MUCH to us.  So, thank you in advance.  If you lost the address, here it is: support.jnf.org/goto/teammaxie.  Thank you AGAIN to all of you who have already made a donation!  That is over 500 individual gifts!  Sometimes we feel so defeated and this is the one thing that feels important and hopeful and pulls us together as a family over and over again.  Please look at Maxie's beautiful face and then ask yourself if you can really NOT plant at least one $18 tree in his memory.

I keep waking up with this broken heart.  It hurts so bad.  I feel sick to my stomach all day long and the emptiness inside me grows and grows.  I MISS MY LITTLE BOY!  He was just a baby. He should be here with me now, not buried in the ground.  His picture has been in my mind all morning.  A smirky little smile on his face.  Just about to start crawling.  I think my sadness might kill me, sometimes I hope it will.  It hurts so bad to have to be here without him.

Why is my baby gone?

Got Caught Smiling

Here are some updates about previous postings and life in general.  My mom's arm seems to be healing and she is mostly now just in a sling, without her brace.  It seems like she probably has an issue with her shoulder as well though and so after the arm heals, they will need to concentrate on that.  We are relieved that things seem to be moving along.  I have stopped seeing the therapist who worked in an office across the street from the ER where Maxie was taken after his "incident".  Not only was being so close to St. Joe's more than I could really handle but she seemed like she was just responding to my sadness with generic platitudes and she also had a really annoying habit of pulling out her palm pilot and then tapping away on the screen with the stylus (so 1998) while I was speaking.  Thanks but no thanks.  In the meantime, I called "Our House" which at least 20 people told me was going to be my grief group salvation and they very kindly informed me that they do not have groups for people with babies who have passed away (Again, I am not really ready for a group setting but figured I would call for information anyway).  They did, however, put me in touch with a wonderful Social Worker who does hospice care for Kaiser and comes to our house once a week in the evening to meet with us.  We love her.  She is kind of a hippy and she has a sweet voice and she says wise things and has interesting theories on death and dying and she affirms our feelings and even tells me that I am very functional, despite the fact I hardly leave the house or get out of bed.  She reminds us that in the grand scheme of things, "it has only been 9 seconds" since Max died and asks us to be kind to ourselves.

I went to my Board Meeting on Wednesday and somebody must have told the receptionist (thank you) that Max died because she gave me a very somber look as I walked in and just said, "It is very nice to see you".  Then I walked into the conference room and some of the board members approached me with hugs or pats on the back to say they were glad to see me as well.  I did NOT hold it together well at first and shook like a leaf and cried but I managed to find my breath and then calmed down.  I even found some of the discussion interesting.  Of course, I was really thinking how sad it is that Max is gone through the whole meeting but other topics seeped into my brain as well....(like how important it is for JNF leadership to attend our National Conference each year because how can they represent an organization without understanding its essence?  Everyone who comes back has an amazing time, so why would you not go?  Very nice pitch Alyse. It still astounds me that anyone would need to "pitch" this to anyone.)  Ted sent me a text half way through the meeting that said, "Halfway done!  You are so brave!"  Have I mentioned how much I love my husband?  I am brave?  He has been back at work full time since the week after Max's funeral.  He is the brave one.  The grief therapist also called me after the meeting to ask how it went.  I told her about Ted's text, to which she responded in a her very breathy voice, "Oooohhhhh!  That gave me a chill up my spine".  He is so special.  After the meeting, my colleague Carly called me to ask if I wanted her company because she could see how shook up I was at the beginning of the meeting.  She also told me that her mother has been reading my blog and actually was at Mt. Sinai earlier in the week, left some stones on Maxie's grave and was told that we CAN put up to 2 pinwheels on Max's grave.  That was so nice of her to ask and I am going to search for the perfect pinwheels and hopefully, they won't be confiscated by the mean lady behind the front desk or any of her pinwheel confiscating soldiers.  In the meantime,  my friend Kate brought a succulent plant called a pinwheel over here the other day when she came over to roast the most DELICIOUS chicken dinner.  I plan on bringing that up to Max too.

I am seeing the acupuncturist that Suzy brought me to all of those weeks ago.  She is helping me with anxiety and fertility.  I don't have any reason to think that I have an issue with fertility, by the way, but I figure that a little extra help is a good thing.  Plus, she still gives me messages from Max, like, "I am tasting yams.  Max's favorite food?  You should go home and make Max some yams and then eat them".  I read somewhere that yams may increase ones chances for twins so it sounded like a good way to kill two birds with one stone.  I also like to go there because I can cry and she holds my hand and looks deep into my eyes and says, "This is so unfair.  No mother should have to go through this.  I am so sorry."  Speaking of which, it was so nice to hear from so many people a couple of days ago, who used Bianca's words and very heartfeltly told me that Max was a wonderful baby and that it is so unfair that I have to live on this earth without him.  Thank you.

I have to mention a few people who have appeared in my life from out of the blue who have been of great comfort.  A woman I went to high school with, who I really never knew in high school AT ALL, has written me two of the kindest emails that I have ever received.  She is reading this blog and knows how much we love Costa Rica and asked if she could have a friend visit the Cartago Basilica to place coins representing Maxie and my hearts into the pool there...not in a religious way but as a symbol of our two hearts being forever connected in a beautiful place that is so special to so many people in a country that we love.  I think it is beautiful and the basilica is basically the first place I ever visited in Costa Rica on my very first trip there.  Another friend who I studied abroad with in Israel but who I didn't really keep in good touch with has become my fertility advisor and trusted confidant.  I think she has been comfortable confiding in me too, which I appreciate.  So, two things about this fabulous woman.  She never says, "I can't imagine how you feel...", which I believe (and my grief counselor has confirmed) is a way to say I refuse to imagine...because it is too hard and I want to keep you at arm's length and these kind of things happen to YOU but would never happen to ME.  She always says to me, "I can only imagine" or "I would imagine...".  Seems like semantics, but makes a great deal of a difference to someone like me, on the receiving end of those words.  "I can only imagine how much agony you must be in" goes a lot further than "I can't imagine what you must be feeling".  She also spent like 2 hours hiding pictures of her and her baby on Facebook, just in case I might look at her page.  I told her that was incredibly unnecessary (because, of COURSE it is completely unnecessary....especially considering how much I am not looking at people's postings and pages) BUT, come on!  It is so incredibly sensitive that it has brought tears to my eyes over and over just thinking about it.

I have an appointment with a psychic on October 5th and I am recording the session.  She has lots of good reviews.  I am DESPERATE to connect with my child.  In the meantime, Marla has a good friend who befriended a well known psychic while making a reality television show about  her work.  Natalie (Marla's friend) contacted her friend the psychic and told her my story and she is giving me a free reading.  Amazing!  I know what some of you are thinking (this chick has LOST IT! Coo-Coo!) but I also know what others of you are thinking because so many of you wrote me to recommend psychics you've seen!  Don't worry, I won't "out" you.

I had coffee again on Monday morning with the mommy down the street who lost her daughter to SIDS.  She is amazing for sharing with me so openly and for rebuilding her life and for being such a good mommy to her subsequent children and for honoring her first born with such love and honesty.  She also GAVE ME HER JOURNAL to read.  Can you believe that?  It is the most trusting, loving, supportive thing I could ever imagine.  I came home and read the whole thing in one sitting.  It is as if she wrote my thoughts, three and a half years before me.  So much love for her daughter, so much agony in missing her, such anger at being so misunderstood.  I just love her for trusting me with her most personal thoughts.  Talk about affirming!

My sister in law, Beth, is in town visiting us until Sunday.  She is hard at work training and fundraising for Team Maxie (support.jnf.org/goto/teammaxie).  If you can afford $18 for one tree or if you want to give more, please go to the link and make a donation.  I promise that you will feel good about supporting Beth's hard work.  She is even Twittering, something that neither of us know anything about.  She's like, "Maybe we should follow some synagogues?" and I am like, "Why are we following them?  Don't we want them to follow us?" and she is like, "I think that they follow us when we follow them?"  We don't know.  One really awesome thing about Beth being here is that she is also sad like us about Maxie.  She and I can talk about what it feels like when people just don't say anything or how awesome it can feel when people say the absolute right thing.  We can even talk about other stuff and it doesn't feel like someone desperately trying to distract me because we both know that just under the surface of our conversation is the deep, penetrating sadness that Max is gone.  I dropped Beth off in downtown La Crescenta yesterday while I visited the acupuncturist.  She got a soy latte while I had needles stuck in my head, hands, ankles, and face.  I picked her up after the appointment and we went to Whole Foods to buy lunch and pick up food for dinner.  There are millions of babies at Whole Foods.  A couple looked like they came straight to Whole Foods from the delivery room.  Regardless, I was walking and talking to Beth as we approached the salad bar area and I ran into the acupuncturist's sister, who works as the receptionist.  I had literally left their office 15 minutes previous.  I don't think I have EVER smiled in their office.  I very rarely smile these days.  But, Beth was telling me something that was making me smile, maybe even chuckle when I came face to face with the sister.  She looked at me with the most surprised expression, like she was looking at a ghost.  I know it was because she had never seen me smile.  I got caught!  I nearly wanted to explain to her that I am still so desperately sad and that my smile should in NO WAY be seen as a sign that I am recovering.  Instead, I just introduced her to Beth and moved quickly to the deli counter.

Anyway, I KNOW there are some of you who are going to write me to tell me how "upbeat" I sound.  PLEASE don't.  Really.  It's not that I don't want my occasional upbeatness to go unnoticed but it will just confirm my sad thought that so many people really only want to have anything to do with me when I am upbeat.  It drives me crazy.  You can recognize it and then put it away because please make no mistake, I cried at least 20 times throughout the day and I woke up at 3:30 am after a BAD dream and haven't been able to go back to sleep.  Still, I recognize that there have been many beautiful people supporting me lately and that has felt like an enormous blessing.  So, thank you.

Maxie's Birthday Party

Max's birthday is coming up.  The anniversary of the very best day of our lives, when our little boy came into this world.  This was a day we were really looking forward to: the chance to celebrate Max, to make him the center of attention, to give him his first bites of birthday cake, to shower presents on him.  Instead we are planning a memorial. Ted and I have started to talk about the details of the day.  We have to do it at the end of the day on Yom Kippur (the 8th) because the 7th, which is Max's birthday is a Friday and Erev Yom Kippur.  So, we will combine Max's memorial with breaking the fast.  Double downer day.  I am sure it is not appropriate to say how much I dislike Yom Kippur.  But, there, I said it.  Flash backs of my childhood synagogue where nobody brushed their teeth in the morning and so with each "Al Chait" was a new burst of bad breath (the very religious take fasting to a whole new level).   Anyway, the idea of confessing my sins this year makes me crazy.  Did I sin?  Or, did G-d, the almighty, enact a terrible sin against me?  Was it MY sin, some terrible sin I don't even remember, that caused Max to die?  Was it my Lashon Ha Rah (gossip)? Or my vanity (trying to lose baby weight)? Or my overprotectiveness (thereby not trusting that G-d would ensure everything would be ok)?  Which TERRIBLE sin of mine was it EXACTLY that caused my only child to be killed?  I am sick that instead of picking out a cake decorated with monkeys and rainforest, I am deciding which poems we should read around the tree that we are planting in his memory in our front yard.  What should I pray for this year?  Or, is the point for me to go to services and surrender to G-d's will and just nod my head in the trust that Max's life ended for a reason I cannot understand.  If G-d is so great, can he/she forgive me for being so incredibly ANGRY?  If not, I guess I am going to hell.  I will be in good practice when I get there because I am currently living in the earthly version of it.  I am beyond bitter.

Moses Basket

Today is the 21st of the month, so is today the two month marker since Maxie's death?  Or, is tomorrow, Thursday (the day of the week that he died) the marker?  Both days suck!  Look at my peaceful angel.  The first time I caught him in this position, my love for him quadrupled.  Please!  Is this not the cutest thing ever?  His chubby little cheeks.  The peaceful look on his face.  His bony little elbows.  I want to eat him up.  Max slept in this little basket when he was little.  It was so cute.  We carried him around in it.  We were still staying with my mother for the first week after Max was born (our kitchen was being renovated) and I remember bringing Max in his basket downstairs and putting him on the dining room table while we ate dinner.  The basket sat at the foot of our bed too.  

Now I wonder if it was a "Safe" basket.  No that it matters for Max.  I mean, he managed to stay alive while sleeping in the basket.  But, is the material in it breathable?  Is the mattress in it too soft?   Would the sides be considered bumpers?  It never occurred to me then but I am plagued by these thoughts now.  WHAT DID I DO WRONG?  Is it my fault that my favorite person on earth is gone?  I just want to die thinking about it.  Could the off-gassing from his crib mattress have built up over time and poisoned him?  Aren't all of my friends kids sleeping on similar mattresses?  Last night Ted and I met with our grief counselor and she was telling us about how if you were able to get a peek into everyone's lives around you, you would see tragedy and grief.  Ted and I both told her that 9 weeks ago, you wouldn't have seen either in our lives.  We were both living in our own happy ending.  Now, I am drowning in my own grief.  I am not sure how many times I have heard that god only gives us what we can handle.  Yuck, by the way.  And - I cannot handle this.  My grief is bigger than me.  

I am going to a meeting of the Executive Committee of my Board of Directors today.  It is one hour, I can probably handle that.  The meeting takes place in our presidents law firm's conference room.  I am afraid the receptionist is going to ask me how my baby is.  Should I call ahead and tell her my baby is dead?  The grief counselor suggested acting like I am on the phone and waving to the receptionist as I walked in.  Sounded like a good idea until I realized I have to face her again when I get my parking validated.  Maybe I should just pay for my own parking?  What if I start crying in the meeting?  What if they are uncomfortable with me being there?  My own closest friends are uncomfortable around me.  Nobody knows what to say.  How about, "Max was the most wonderful baby and it is so unfair that you have to live on this earth without him!" (Thanks Bianca, I love when you say that.  Makes me feel validated).  Anyway, it is ONE hour.  I should be able to handle that.  Baby steps (no pun intended). 

My little monkey.  Relaxing in his Moses Basket.  I love everything about you Maxie.

Everything!  I hope you wait for me.  I can't wait to see you again.

Yesterday marks two months since our nightmare began.  Tomorrow marks two months since the last time we spent with Maxie.  Yesterday Ted came home from work in an obvious foul mood.  He changed out of his jeans and went into the living room and put on his Giants football game.  He was getting angry at the TV.  He turned to me and said, "I have a lot of anger!  You know how you are sad?  I am angry!"  Teddy, I get it!  I am angry too...but you are right, I am more sad.  Makes sense that the Daddy would be ANGRY!

I don't want to forget one detail of Max's life.  I am so scared I will forget something.  I will obviously not forget the big things, but I want to try and remember all of the little things too.  Today I want to tell you about our flight home from the East Coast in June.  Our flight wasn't until 5 or 6 so we spent the day doing stuff.  Max got in his first nap while I packed up.  Ted went over to his parents to do some work on their house (I can't remember what).  Somehow we all lost track of time and even though we had all day to get to the airport, we ended up driving there in a mad rush and arriving only 30 minutes before our flight.  I strapped Max to me in his Bjorn and Ted and I started running.  We tried to check in at the curb but they told us we were too late.  Then we ran into the building and somehow we split up.  I think Ted ran off with luggage and I was inside with the baby.  Bonnie came in and we were speaking to some of the airline representatives mulling about, who told us we were too late.  She pleaded with someone who finally said that they would make an exception and asked me to come with them to the counter.  That person was walking WAY too quick for me.  I had Max strapped to me, carrying the stroller and a small wheelie bag.  Max was bouncing over the place while I tried to keep up with this guy.  When we finally got there, they berated me for getting there late and kept saying if my husband didn't get to the counter by the time they were finished typing, we should forget about it.  I was frantically trying to text Ted.  Finally he made it.  We pushed our way through security and got on the plane.  Because we were so late, our seats were not together, but Ted charmed a few passengers into switching and we sat down.  Max was an ANGEL through the whole thing, despite having missed his second nap.  As soon as we sat down though, he melted.  Not really crying, more like whining.  I bounced him.  I pulled his face up to mine, kissed him on his cheeks and sang in his ear.  I rubbed his little back. I pulled out toys.  He was a little frantic.  I lifted him in the air.  Suddenly, a smile.  I brought him back down to my lap - more whining.  Lifted him in the air, a little smile.  I turned around and looked through the cracks in the seat to see an older man, with crooked teeth making funny faces at Max.  I let Max look at him over the seat, he was delighted.  Of course, I couldn't depend on that guy for the whole flight but he helped take the edge off a very stressful situation and he made my boy happy.  Max fussed for most of the flight until I strapped him back into the Bjorn and threw a very light blanket over him.  We went to the back of the plane where I could swing from side to side.  He feel asleep at last, with his little cheek pressed against my chest while I rubbed his back and sang to him.  I would give anything to be at the back of that plane with my little boy.

Maxie, I dream about you every night.  I think about you all day long.  You are still our most favorite person, whether you are here with us or not.  Mommy is so sad.  Daddy is so angry.  We love you with all of our hearts.  We miss you like crazy.

Falling in Love

My friends always told me that what I would feel about my baby would be similar to how it feels to fall in love.  I guess when you haven't had anything else to compare it to, that is the best comparison.  But, I felt that falling in love with Max was so different than falling in romantic love, even though there were similarities: butterflies in my stomach, wanting to be with him all of the time, lots of eye contact and smiling.  My love for Max was immediate and each day, I actually felt my love grow deeper.  I never had to worry about Max not loving me back because he showed me all of the time how much he loved me.  There was no stage where you are wondering who is going to say it first, or if anyone would say it at all.  You are just in love.  This is going to sound weird, but while I was falling in love with Max, I was falling in love with myself too.  I loved the person I was becoming and so overjoyed to find out how much more there was to me than that which I already knew.  I also fell more deeply in love with Ted, seeing what a wonderful father and husband he innately is.  The entire experience was blissful.

I sometimes thought about how nature (or god, if that is your belief) must have made all of the developmental stages so that parents would have new things to fall in love with every week.  Obviously, the developmental stages exist so that the baby develops into a child and then a teenager and then an adult but perhaps there is a part of the course of the development that exists purely so that parents have something new to marvel at all of the time.  First smiles, first eye contact, first laughs, rolling over, pushing up, first teeth...every new thing fills your heart with adoration and joy.  It is the most wonderful love that exists I think.  This love is totally pure and selfless - the very best thing that ever happened to me.

I have mentioned that leaving Max at daycare broke my heart every day...especially Mondays.  I preferred to be home with him sleeping in his room than out with friends enjoying a new restaurant or at a party.  I have mentioned that I felt I had known Max my entire life.  I don't know if these are universal feelings.  Many friends have told me that a break from the kids is necessary and good.  Perhaps if I had  many children I would have agreed.  Every bath I missed was like a slap in the face.  I am not romanticizing my love for Max.  I would get physically tired (the worst was the first week of Hanukkah when Max's acid reflux was in full swing and there was literally a 48-72 hour period that I did not sleep), but I never felt emotionally tired from Max.  It probably helps that he was a VERY easy baby.  But, again, I like to think we had a unique bond.  We were really in love and being together made us very happy.

The other night I had a dream that Max was a twin and the other baby was the "not quite as awesome" version.  He was cute, but not quite as cute as Max.  He was funny, but not quite as funny as Max.  He was happy, but not quite as happy as Max.  Max died and I was left with only the not as quite version.  I kept thinking "I need to love this baby as much as Max" but I couldn't.  I loved him for sure, just not quite as much as Max.  Everyone tells me that when you have more than one child, you worry at first that you won't love your second or third as much as the ones that came before but that you always do.  I admit that I wonder if I will love the next baby quite as much.  I am afraid that I will love the next babies with my guard up, like how I dated after I first had my heart broken - without emotionally investing the way I did with Max.  Sad.

There was something else I wanted to mention and that is how I feel like I misled so many of you when you were here for shiva.  You think I am still "Abby".  I am so sorry that I misled you into thinking that is who I am now.  You see, I was in shock.  I was thinking then that I am strong, that I would be able to handle this.  I was thinking, "Ted and I are in love and we are strong and we will get through this."  I was even able to make jokes and smile.  I asked you about your work and your children and laughed about the mispronounciation of the "Name Tag" beer from Trader Joe's (which Darren mispronounced as Nah - meh Taag, and which we then convinced Kate was a Thai beer.....oh, the laughs we shared).  You haven't seen me since then and so you are confused when that Abby doesn't greet you when you finally do see me again.  You are wondering why I am more sad now that the day of my baby's funeral.  I am not a grief expert and I cannot explain it to you but all I can say is I am not sure where that Abby went.  Sometimes I see glimpses: like last night when Ted and I laughed and laughed about the woman at the Emmys with the pashmina wrapped around her head.....sometimes we are mean.  I wonder if those glimpses mean that I am hiding in there somewhere and that I might be coming back.  More than often, I think, does a mother living without her child even deserve to laugh?  It's easy for you to say YES but then I feel let off the hook.  I don't want to be let off the hook.  If you have ever grieved over a broken heart, you have a very small idea of what my heart feels like.  It is like breaking up with yourself, knowing that you will never see yourself again, and that the thing you MOST loved on the whole earth is gone forever.  No words do this feeling justice.  I am in agony.  I am in a pit of despair.  I may never make it out all of the way and if I do, I will be covered with dirt and grime.  I am sorry to those of you who loved "Abby".  Perhaps you will learn to love the new person that emerges with time.  Know that you are not alone and I am going to have to learn to love that person to.  I see a long road ahead.

My New Genre

Yesterday after I posted about not being able to find my genre, I think I managed to do just that.  Bereavement and perhaps a twist of revenge.  Of course, I hate not having anyone to be angry at - nobody to whom I can dedicate my life of revenge.  I long to be like Inigo Montoya, from the Princess Bride, and dedicate the rest of my life towards finding the 6 fingered man who killed my father.  My name is Abigail Leviss, you killed my son...prepare to die!

Last night we watched "Hereafter" with Matt Damon about this reluctant psychic who can communicate with the dead (speaking of which, if you have ever had a really wonderful experience with a Medium or psychic, please let me know. I know I sound crazy.  Have you noticed yet that I actually AM crazy?) Anyway, the movie is about all of these sad people who have experienced loss.  Finally, a movie with characters I can relate to.  If you saw it, I feel like the little boy in the movie - searching for answers.  Even better, we went to the actual movie theater yesterday and saw "The Debt".  I think I would have loved it even if Max hadn't died.  It is about 3 Israeli Mossad agents who go to Berlin to hunt down a Mengele-like character.  The movie takes place in Israel, Germany and Ukraine.  It is about people who are compelled to seek revenge because their feelings of loss run so deep.  There is a line in the movie about surviving the Holocaust - something about how terrible it is to be a survivor.  Finding my new genre reminds me of a quote that Suzy told me she heard from Anderson Cooper.  His brother committed suicide and he says that the reason he became a journalist is because he wanted his outsides to match his insides.  My environment very rarely matches my insides these days.  This is why I hardly leave my house.  Outside, people are going to baseball games, and enjoying the sunshine, and strolling their babies through the neighborhood.  Inside, it is dark and quiet and there are blown up photos of Max and I have control.  Outside is chaos.  Inside it a different kind of chaos.

"The Debt" makes me think of my first job after coming home from Israel, at the Shoah Foundation.  I worked in the cataloguing department, on the night shift.  (Shout out to my Shoah Foundation Night Shift Peeps!).  What a weird but wonderful, life altering job!  We worked from 5 pm to 1:30 am, Sunday - Thursday night.  There were a limited number of computers that had the cataloguing software on them so there was a day shift too.  I had heard survivors speak before.  I had read Anne Frank's diary.  I had seen many documentaries about the Holocaust.  Before this job though, I had never heard such detailed, uncensored accounts of the loss.  I had never personalized the tragedy.   During my first months there, I had nightmares every night, I sat in my apartment and tried to figure out where I would hide people if I needed to, I felt the urge to try and "save" every homeless person I passed on the street, I went to parties and cried.  For a long time during and after my time at the Foundation, I felt like only people who had worked there, in my department, could understand me.  As a cataloguer, I watched the testimonies of Holocaust survivors every night, tracking important historical and personal information.  Many of us learned this odd skill set by practicing on a testimony given by a guy named Peter Hirsch.  Peter Hirsch's story, like so many other survivor's, was about losing everything and then rebuilding his whole life: moving to a new country, falling in love, starting his own family.  I cried my eyes out every time I watched it.  I am crying now just thinking about his sweet face and the beautiful way he expressed his love for his wife and children.  How he recovered from his loss, the loss of his parents and his WHOLE family, with such grace and determination, was the most inspirational thing I could imagine.  I always wondered if he knew about the 80 cataloguers and other Shoah staff who sat in trailers on the Universal backlot, night after night, watching his testimony and crying our eyes out: just another day at the office.  I left the Foundation for a while and then came back to translate Hebrew Pre-Interview Questionnaires (PIQs) a couple of days a week.  During that time, I sat next to a survivor, who was translating from like 7 languages.  He told me his story, which he said was top secret, which he told me not to tell anyone, which I have since learned he told all of the young ladies.  Anyway, I love his story.  He too had lost everyone and after the war, he went to Israel, where he joined the Mossad and was sent back to Europe as a Nazi hunter.  He told me that he had to keep a pill of cyanide under his tongue in case he was ever caught, so that he would just kill himself rather than giving away secrets while being tortured.  The stories were wild, filled with adventure and revenge.  By the time I met him, he was living in an apartment in the San Fernando valley, with his American wife and breeding some kind of small puff-ball dog.  I loved that his life ended so regular.  I remember thinking, how could he stand every day with this wife who hadn't experienced what he had experienced, breeding these silly little dogs?  Like, why weren't they at least breeding some kind of fierce dog?  I think it was probably these soft and regular things that gave him comfort.  He had made his peace to a certain extent.

What is the sum up?  I don't know.  Why do I tell you all of this?  I don't know.  I don't get to be Inigo Montoya.  I don't get to dedicate my life to revenge, running around with a cyanide pill under my tongue, looking for the ones that took my son.  I have to rebuild my life, eventually, like Peter Hirsch.  I have to figure out a way to reconcile the fact that my environment on the outside will not match the environment of my insides for a long time.  I hope to find calm in my home, in the valley, with my family and my dogs.  Until then, I will TRY to distract myself as much as possible with my new genre: Loss, with a touch of Revenge.

No Good Distractions

Last night Ted and I watched a TERRIBLE romantic comedy that we had netflixed.  I don't even want to tell you which one because that is how embarrassing it was.  I knew this movie was going to suck too.  The thing is, I am not sure what genres are safe to me at this point.  It would be nice if TV or the movies were a good distraction.  Ted suggested that we see a movie today about the end of the world, to which I answered, "YES!  Let's only see movies about the end of the world from now on".  But then I realized that if I saw a movie about the end of the world, in this case "Contagion", I would be awake all night thinking - what if Ted and I have another baby and then this baby catches some disease and dies?  TV isn't really safe either.  We are big fans of True Blood, but this season a little devilish baby was introduced to the show.  I thought the baby was so cute when Max was alive.  I couldn't look at him after Max died.  Even Curb your Enthusiasm sent me into a panic during an episode where a mother had to throw her baby out a window.  One would think that a romantic comedy would be safe, but all I could think throughout the whole movie was - once these two get together and have their happy ending, I am pretty sure their baby won't die.

This reminds me of Facebook.  A place where anyone could get lost for hours.  I can't even log in for more than a couple of minutes.  Sometimes people still send me email there and I like to check my sister-in-law's page for updates about "Team Maxie", but I cannot look at the scroll of updates on people's lives.  I am sure I don't really need to explain how much I envy the person who posts new photos of their lovely children.  I even envy the people that post photos of their dinner.  The mundane going ons of other people's lives is enviable.  There was a lot of activity on my page after Max died, people sending condolences and nice notes about Max.  I couldn't help but notice that a woman who had come to Max's funeral posted on her wall the day after, "Another beautiful day...they just keep piling up."  How could beautiful days be piling up when she had spent the day before at a baby's funeral?  MY baby's funeral!  It still makes me sick to think about it.  I de-friended her.  We didn't know each other that well anyway.

This morning I dreamed about Max.  In the dream, he was sick and dying.  He only had a few days left and every morning we woke up to find him still alive was a blessing.  I got to hold him and kiss him and tell him how much I loved him and he understood.  He really understood the words I was saying.  On the final morning, my aunt called us from the morgue and told us to rush over, Max was dead.  The line was choppy and I could not get the address, she kept cutting out on the phone.  I was trying to look for the address on receipts and in books but I could not.  I was crying and trying to keep my cool but failing.  I know I keep replaying the moment that I received the call from daycare on the Tuesday of Max's incident.  Max's caretaker was hysterical on the phone and said "Max stopped breathing and he is on his way to St. Joe's ER", then she said something about CPR so as I am running out of the house, I am saying "but he started breathing again, right?" and she was saying "get to the ER as quick as you can" and I kept repeating, "he started breathing again, right?" and then I got off the phone so I could concentrate on driving but I had a lunch meeting with two members of my board that I needed to cancel so I frantically called my colleague and asked her to let them know I wouldn't make it.  Then, I called daycare again and she put a paramedic on the phone who said, "Ma'am, your son is being rushed to the St. joseph's Emergency Room" and I said, "I KNOW! Did he start breathing again?" at the very moment he started to answer me, the colleague from work was calling and I tried to hang up on her because the beeps were making it impossible for me to hear the paramedic, but I accidentally hung up and him and got her.  When I realized I had her on the line and not him, I screamed, "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" and hung up on her.  By then I had arrived at the hospital but couldn't figure out where to park and made several u-turns before just parking in the staff parking lot.  This proved to be a terrible mistake because when we left St. Joe's to follow the ambulance to Tarzana, Ted and I ran around the entire perimeter of the building looking for my car, angry at each other in the moment but really just tense about our boy.  The whole scene haunts me night and day as I imagine it will forever.  It's like right out of a horror movie, another genre I can't watch.

Maxie's New Car

In June, we were in Connecticut for a wedding and to visit family and friends.  We took the red eye into town and I was TIRED when we got there.  After eating our "flagels" (Flat Bagels) I took a long nap while Ted and Gigi (Bonnie, Ted's mom....affectionately called Gigi by our niece Sadie.  She would have been called Gigi by Maxie too when he was able to speak) entertained the peanut.  They decided to take Maxie to the park and put him in cousin Sadie's little car for the ride.  When I FINALLY woke up, Ted showed me photos with a huge proud grin and told me about how little Maxie put his feet up on the dashboard and held on to the little steering wheel. In perfect Gigi fashion, the same little car arrived at our house for Maxie just a couple weeks later.  Ted assured me that even though the box said that it was for ages 1 and up, Maxie was a pro in this vehicle and I had nothing to worry about.  I wasn't worried.  If it made Max and Ted happy, it made me happy.  We parked the car in front of our house and Ted often took our little monkey for walks up and down the street in it.  Max would grab for flowers and other stuff outside the car as Daddy would wheel him past.  He looked like such a big boy in his little car.  It is just one of the many baby reminders that now lives in our house and backyard, unused, gathering dust, reminding us of who we do not have any longer.  The person we are thinking about and missing all of the time.

I wanted again to write about normalcy because this is a concept that just doesn't seem to make sense to those around us and I fully understand why.  I am not sure why it is so important to me that you understand this.  Some of you do understand it without me having to spell it out and truthfully, I cannot even speak for Ted because I think he appreciates a certain degree of normalcy and distraction, so I will speak for myself.  When you try hard to act normal with me, to talk about whatever normal stuff is going on in the world or in your life, when you don't acknowledge the pain that I am in, or you try to distract me with silliness, or you feel like you can't or shouldn't mention Maxie's name in front of me, you are doing yourself more of a service than you are doing me.  That is fine and I understand it because I have been in your shoes.  I know how hard it is to know what to say.  But, for the record, Max is in every thought that I have, whether I am asleep or awake.  When you tell me a joke or about how annoying your co-worker is, I am nodding and I may even be smiling, but I am thinking how sad I am that my baby died.  To be sure, I CAN be distracted but to start there with me is to ignore the searing pain that I feel without stop.  Again, I know how hard it is to be where you are with me now.  I have tried to distract a mourner, someone in pain, with silly stories and nonsense jokes.  I have talked about how much a day at work sucked or the dent in my car to try and distract you when you were grieving. I am SURE of it.  Now that I am here, I want to tell you with all of my heart that I am sorry.  Everyone is different, so maybe you actually did appreciate the distraction but still, I know now that nothing is the same when you sit on this side.  Everything is colored with the loss.  Everything is colored with images, thoughts, the love and longing for Maxie.  If you can acknowledge that, we have a better chance of moving into small talk, if that is what you would like to do.  I don't want to sound preachy.  I don't want to sound mean.  I don't want to imply that I will only talk about Max and nothing else.  I just want you, as someone I love, to know how to interact with me, someone you might love.

Our Happy Family

Ted, Maxie and I were such a happy family.  We had our routines and we each had our own way of doing things.  This morning we were talking about missing Max.  I said how much I miss walking into his room in the morning, opening the door and saying very softly, "Good Morning my baby".  I would walk over to the bedside lamp and turn on the dim setting so his little eyes could adjust.  It would take a little while, but I would pick him up and just nurse him or give him his bottle in that dim light.  Ted had a different way.  He would walk in, turn on the overhead light, and say "Good Morning Maxie!"  No time to adjust to the light.....time to be with Daddy.  I liked to cuddle with Max, rub my nose against his cheek and kiss his little face.  I liked to wrap my arms around him and hold him close.  Teddy liked to play with Max.  Tossing him up in the air, making him giggle by squeezing his thighs, being silly with his little boy.  It took us a couple of months to get the hang of parenthood, but we had it down.  We were good at it.  We loved it.  We loved being Max's parents.  Oh my lord- we loved the person that was MAX!  We loved being a Mommy and a Daddy.  We loved being a family.  The numbness and shock wear off more each day and each day this gets harder and harder.  We are fully aware now that "this is the shitty hand we've been dealt", as Ted says.  We are still a family but we are missing a most important piece. 

Grief 101

They should offer a course in high school about Grief.  There were plenty of subjects I studied in school whose basic principals I don't even remember because I have never had to use them.  But Grief is universally important to know about.  There is no common language, there is hardly even a real recognition of another person's grief.  It wouldn't only be useful for those people who are interested in comforting the grieving, it would be useful to those of us who have to grieve.  Maybe it would prepare you for the severe trauma, discomfort, agony, anger and pain that you might experience, if you were ever so unfortunate to have to grieve (which I think everyone will eventually have to do in one way or another, even if just for a family pet).  It would teach those who want to comfort the grieving that it is ok if you can't make a grieving mother laugh.  It is ok to just say, "This is terrible and should have never happened to you two and your families".  It would teach people not to say, "I hope you two are doing well" (though we understand that you say that because you don't know what else to say....because you didn't have to take Grieving 101).  I think if everyone took a course in grieving, it would be easier for us to say "yes" to friends that want to visit and it would be easier for those friends once they actually got here.  In the meantime, we are all confused.  Nobody knows what to say.

I want to mention my boss, who must have taken this course.  I guess when you are the CEO of a 110 year old non-profit organization supporting projects in Israel , you spend enough time with the grieving to know what to say to them.  Still, this man is a mensch and I am forever grateful for what he said to me, which was, "Let me walk beside you".  Simple really.  He didn't urge me to pull it together or to put one foot in front of the other or to think of all the good things in my life.  He just admitted that he didn't know what I must be feeling but that he can only imagine how terrible it must be and then he repeated, "Let me walk beside you."  Russell, you know that I love you.  Know also that my family is grateful.  I am so honored that you would offer to walk beside me.  I barely even want to walk beside myself.

When I think about the fact that Ted and I had a baby that died unexpectedly, it almost seems tolerable...barely.  If I try to remove myself and Ted and Max from the equation and just say it the way it must sound to strangers:  Did you hear about that nice couple that lost their nine month old...how tragic.  That sounds tolerable.  Then, when I think about Maxie - his beautiful face, his funny baby movements, his happy disposition, his wonderful personality, I feel sick.  It was this unique human person who we loved so much that we lost.  This person who made my heart flutter, who caused a permanent smile on my face when I was around him, who had his whole life ahead of him, who brought me even closer to my husband...is gone.  That is what kills me.  I can think about it the second way all day long.  I DO think about it the second way all day long.  At night, when I am lying down to sleep, I force myself to think about it the first way.  If one ounce of Maxie's personality finds its way into my brain, I am doomed to nightmares and sleeplessness.  My hope is that, even though it is hard, you will think of him the second way.  That you will know something of the Maxie that Ted and I love.  Our wonderful little boy with the world's biggest smile.

Not getting any easier

It feels like I get sadder every week.  Is it possible that it is going to get worse before it gets better?  Is it possible that it will ever get better?  Do I even want it to get better?  I miss Maxie all of the time and the further I get from the last day I saw him, the more I miss him.  That's how missing goes.

Last Friday I had coffee in the morning with a mommy who lost her first born child to SIDS.  This mommy happens to live 3 and a half blocks away from me.  She lost her daughter three years ago, while she was a daycare.  She has had 2 children since then.  It seems like she is doing well.  I know she misses her baby but she is the one that told me her heart has grown and made room for two more babies, whom she loves just as much.  I was most interested in knowing how she even got through infancy with her new babies.  Once this has happened to you, there is no way that you can sleep easy again.  She bought a special monitor and she tried to have faith that it couldn't happen again and her children are still here.  She, unlike everyone else who says, "It will never happen again", didn't say that.  She knows that we cannot give each other these assurances because shit happens.  She gave me a few books and has kept in touch with me and I am happy that she is someone who understands what I am going through.  One of the books she gave me was "Comfort", by Ann Hood. It is the story of the author's loss of her daughter and her journey through grief.  I read it in a day.  I then bought the fictional account of the same story, by the same author, "The Knitting Circle".  All I can say is, that these books sum up how I feel.  In the books, the author talks about how knitting saves her and becomes a way to cope with her depression.  I used to knit when I was a little girl.  My grandma Ann taught me.  I really only ever learned one stitch and I never learned how to start or end my scarves but I remember liking it.  So, today I am off to the knitting store to buy some needles and yarn.  I told you that I've become old really quick.  "Old as Dirt" is what Ted would say.

I tried to go to the knitting store yesterday, but like sushi joints and museums, knitting stores are closed on Mondays.  Instead I went to the cemetery.  Maxie's grave is in a beautiful part of Mt Sinai.  "I am here to visit my son", I tell the guy at the gate.  Did I really just say that?  Every time Ted and I say it at the gate I wonder if it is real.  There was a funeral going on nearby, so I had to park down the hill a little bit.  Walking up to his grave is so unreal.  But, there it is.  "Maxwell Leviss" written on a little white tag on the ground.  My dad was there last week for the funeral of an old person and left some rocks on Maxie's grave.  Maybe he also left the flower that is stuck into the ground.  I didn't bring flowers because I hate the thought of them dying.  Several weeks ago, Ted and I went there and asked the woman in the flower shop if she sold pinwheels.  I liked the idea of the pinwheel being ever in motion and never having to worry about it dying.  "Mt Sinai does not allow pinwheels on the property", she said with a sourpuss.  "But our son is only nine months old", I said.  "We collect all of the pinwheels and dispose of them", she said, "It's our policy".  She is lucky I didn't leap over her little desk and knock her out!   I still feel like I could drive back there at any moment and deck her.  Anyway, back to yesterday.  I was alone, which is fine, since I am mostly alone these days.  I laid down on Max's grave and cried my eyes out. "Why did you leave me baby?" I always ask him why he left me.  I pressed my cheek against the grass and just bawled.  There was a guy in an emergency services vehicle watching me out of the window of his van.  Whatever.  I guess he got a show because I just let it all out.  Cried and cried and begged and pleaded....not sure for what...mostly crying, "WHY?  WHY MY BABY?  WHY MY MAXIE?"  G-d picked the WRONG baby!!!!!!!  Maxie was too good to have this happen!  I AM SO ANGRY!!!!

This isn't getting any easier.

Images of Max

Images of Maxie have been dancing in my head all morning.  Warm and Cozy, warm and cozy....Maxie all wrapped up in a towel, smiling at me.  Jumpie, jumpie, jumpie....Maxie in his jumperoo, smiling at me.  Maxie Moo Moo!  Maxie Moo!  Maxie Moo Moo!  Maxie Moo!  Maxie sitting in his car seat, chewing on his Cat in the Hat soft book, smiling at me in the mirror.  Sometime several weeks before Maxie died, he was on the changing table and I was about to put a diaper on him when I heard a loud "TOOT".  Max farted.  I yelped and jumped back a bit.  He started cracking up.  I started cracking up.  We both laughed and laughed.  There are a couple of big red chairs on my mom's deck, behind the tree, next to her pool.  I used to like to sit in the chair, on the deck, looking out at the trees with Maxie on my lap, his face occasionally pressed against mine, while he played and played with my infinity necklace Ted gave me for our wedding.  I used to lay Maxie on the bed and hold him by the hands, and then sit him up, he would crunch his little ab muscles to help me help him up, his face full of a concentrated look.  Then after I had him sit and I would pull him up to stand and his face would go from concentration to a big smile as I said "Up up up up and All the way up!"  I am so lonely without Max.  Everyone asks me if there is anything that I do that gives me any relief.  Here is my answer.  There are periods that I don't cry.  Is that relief?  I enjoy being with Ted but I recognize that I am sucky company and he may not feel the same way about me.  He makes me laugh though and that is a good thing.  Honestly, I am sad all day and all night long.  This isn't real.  It is much too devastating to be real.  Real life would be me, putting on the Raffi Pandora station and dancing around the livingroom with the baby, who we made, who lived inside of me, who I gave birth to, who I nursed and fed and sung to sleep.  My little pumpkin, my punky, my monkey, my Max.

It was on Catalina Island that I first remember knowing that one day I wanted to be a mother. My cousin Nathan was born when I was around 19 or 20 years old. Like everyone else in my family, I fell head over heels for him and became completely obsessed. He was SO cute and he had the best personality. I just adored him. When he was under a year (though I can't remember exactly how old) we came to Catalina, as we did every summer. Natie got fussy over breakfast and I offered to take him outside and walk around with him. Up and down the beachfront drag I walked with him as people stopped to comment how cute my baby was. Several people asked if he was mine. "Yes!", I replied and they said, "He is so precious!". "Thank you!" I wasn't too young to be Nathan's mom and it thrilled me to know that people actually thought I was. I kept this up for years. I would take Natie to the movies or the beach and just steal him down a separate isle from my aunt in the drugstore so that people would think he was mine. Now he is a teenager in Portland and I doubt he would let me get away with that but it was fun while it lasted.

Max was mine! He even kind of looked like Nate. He also had a beautiful personality. I loved taking him to the supermarket where people would say, "What an adorable baby!" I have wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember. It was so much better than I ever even imagined. The amount of love I feel for my Max is endless. It is consuming. It is the most wonderful deep love I have ever felt. I will never let go, I will never move on, I will love him for my entire lifetime. Nobody will take his place, he will always be in my heart. This shouldn't be. I should be taking him to the movies and the beach and the drugstore and beaming every time someone stops to say. "What a beautiful baby! Is he yours?"....YES, he is MINE!

To be clear..

I have openly expressed my desire to have more children. To be clear, nobody will EVER take the place of my Maxie! So, please, know that it isn't reassuring to hear "get back on the horse" or that ANYTHING is "meant to be". MAX WAS MEANT TO BE! Max should be here with me now! Actually, he is supposed to be at grandma's for the weekend. Ted and I are in Catalina for our anniversary. We planned this weekend several months ago. It's so pretty. Ted's first time on the island. I want to show him all of the secrets of Catalina but I am so sad. We came here every summer when I was a kid. I ALWAYS thought I would bring my children here in the summers. Clearly, everyone thought they would. The place is crawling with families. I miss Max so much. I wish I could snuggle him again. I wish I could kiss his cheeks. I wish I could hold him. My heart is so broken! Feels impossible to move at times. More tears for Max. A lifetime of tears won't even do any justice to pain I feel.

Lucky

I got pregnant with Max on the first try.  What does that mean?  It means that I stopped taking birth control months before but that the first time that we actually TRIED, with intent, and did it on the day I knew myself to be ovulating, Max was conceived.  I remember bragging about it to Dr. Dwight, to which he responded, "Don't tell that to any of your girlfriends."  We were lucky.  I did tell my girlfriends.  Perhaps they will forgive me now.  We are not so lucky after all.  I have been lucky a lot in this life of mine.  Lucky to have had parents that loved us to the moon and beyond.  Lucky to have grown up in a beautiful neighborhood, in a big wonderful city, close to beaches and mountains.  Lucky to have known all of my grandparents.  Lucky to have been so close with them.  Lucky to have had lots and lots of fun and close cousins.  Lucky to have gone to wonderful schools, to have made the best of friends, to have traveled the world, to have a career that I love, to have the 2 most awesome and adorable dogs, and to have met my wonderful husband and convinced him to spend his life with me.  I am lucky.  I even once won dinner once a week for a full year at Koo Koo Roo.  Lucky.  Has my luck changed?  I feel like the most unlucky woman in the world.  Somehow I still feel lucky to have had my Max at all.  He was the most lucky thing that ever happened.  I felt lucky every day that I got to be his mother.  People have written me to say, "I hope you are doing ok".  Doing ok?  How could I be doing ok?  My child is gone!  I am not ok.  There is nothing OK here.  I am hanging by a thread.  Still, I have the nerve to beg the universe to make us lucky again.  To bless us with more children.  To give Max the siblings that he would have loved.  I am beginning to realize that luck runs out quicker than you think it will.  If nothing like this has happened to you, consider yourself lucky. You think you and yours will be safe forever....no such luck  Pray that we get lucky.......I'll pray for you too!

Pregnant with Max, feeling lucky and relaxing with Jake

Grandma's photo shoot

My mom called herself the "official Maxie photographer" and always took beautiful pictures of him when she was babysitting.  She often bought him new cute outfits for his visits as well.  Several months ago, we picked up Maxie looking quite dapper in his new shirt and tie from Grandma.

The weekend before Max's incident, my mom babysat and was taking Maxie to a cocktail party.  She specifically requested that Max come with his tie but I knew I hadn't seen it since we picked him up the day of this photo shoot.  I tore the house apart looking for it and couldn't find it anywhere.  So, Max went to the party without the tie.  I know my mom was disappointed.  I still don't know where the tie is or when I am going to come across it.  Feel like it might take my breath away.  I am lost without this boy.  Every minute without him takes my breath away.  He would be 11 months yesterday and I know he would be even BETTER (if that's possible) than he was 6 weeks ago.  My little angel....my Maxie Moo.  I miss you with every fiber of my being.

Babies everywhere!!

Were there so many babies everywhere before?  I didn't notice them.  AND - I WAS LOOKING FOR THEM!  Now, I am also looking for them, or should I say, I am on the lookout for them.  They are everywhere.  In really unlikely places even.  Suzy and I had lunch at the Laurel Tavern on Monday.  There were 3 different families with 3 different babies, all under 1 year.  It's a bar!  For last night's anniversary dinner, we went to a restaurant in downtown Burbank that seemed safe.  There is a big bar and kind of a nighttime vibe.  I would not have brought Maxie there.  Of course, 2 minutes after sitting down, a loud family with a baby (probably 4 months old) sits in the booth directly behind us.  Ted and I switched seats so I wouldn't have to look at the baby.  The family is cooing over this baby, we can hardly get the waitress's attention because she is all about the baby.  Ted is staring at the baby.  I am staring at Ted staring at the baby.  Ted asks again what this test could possibly be about.  We make a pact to sit "belly up" at the bar from now on or ask to be moved in the future when a baby is seated next to us.  Babies are now the scariest things I can think about.  But, again, I LOVE BABIES!

To be honest, I did not like taking Max to restaurants.  When he was under six months, it was partly because I never knew when I would have to breastfeed him and I was not a real "comfortable in public" breastfeeder.  I would have used the "hooter hider" and been comfortable, if Max would have let me, but he liked to look into my eyes, so I couldn't really drape him under anything for very long.  Sometimes I would just take him into the back of the car and put on the air conditioning to nurse him, but, that wasn't exactly an enjoyable way to spend the afternoon.  Often, the food would come right at the moment Max would start crying and I would have to step away.  I liked going to people's houses, where I could sneak off to another room or having people come over here (preferable).  The truth is that Max brought out the homebody in me.  If you hadn't seen me in 9.5 months before this tragedy, it isn't because I don't love you or because I didn't want to see you, it is because I wanted to be at home with my baby.  I wanted to be in his environment, with all of his toys and food and stuff.  I wanted to put him down at bedtime and not keep him up for our entertainment.  I wanted to work around his schedule.  That is what made he and I happiest.  I hardly liked going out for the evening and leaving Max with my mom to babysit.  I was just thinking about Max the whole time I was out anyway, so why go out?

I miss Max today and everyday.  I miss his little squeaks and yelps.  I miss the way he chewed on his little fists.  I miss his smirky smile.  I miss his easy ability to connect with people.  Is this a test?  If so, are we passing it?  Was there a reason that a lovely, angelic, innocent baby had to be sacrificed to test Ted and I?  Do things like this really just happen at random?  Where the hell is my baby?  Why the hell did this happen to us?  Ted and I are good people!!!!!  I am so angry!  Nobody good to be angry at either.  I am angry at god!  So angry.

There are a lot of you who are trying hard to comfort us.  Sending texts messages and emails and trying to make a visit.  I appreciate it all, really, especially because most people have disappeared by now.  If I haven't given you enough positive reinforcement when you have tried so hard, please take it with a grain of salt.  My world has caved in.  I am not thinking about how to make sure you know that I appreciate you.  If you have made the effort, I appreciate it, even if I haven't called you back - I appreciate it.

9-6-9

Two years ago today, I married the man of my dreams 

on our beautiful beach in Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica

Teddy, I love you forever and always

So Many Activities

There are so many fabulous toys and activity centers to delight growing minds.  Maxie liked lights and music and buttons and things to grab onto.  When he was really little, we would put him on his playmat and his face would light up.  This crazy song plays with a evil little laugh in the background.  Ted and I liked to sing along.

The next level was the bouncy seat.  We bought him one that just vibrated to start and he liked it fine. He would sit and watch the monkeys bouncing.  One day we went to Auntie Jessica's house and sat Max in baby Everett's seat and Max went nuts.  He was entertained for the whole visit.  So, of course, I left and bought him one that very day.  Anything for my Max.

The "boring" bouncy seat.  He liked it but nothing like the "Rainforest Bouncer"

Here he is in Costa Rica, in the Rainforest, in the Rainforest Bouncer.  

He loved it so much, we brought it on vacation with us.

Nothing that came before delighted Max like his exersaucer, which Amy M. deemed "the office" for her kids and which we adopted.  Max LOVED the office.  He has one at our house and one at Grandma's house.  Grandma even fed him in the office.  He loved all of the buttons and pullies.  Ted and I also most loved to sing along to "1....2....3...Let's Jump!  Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba BA!  Ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba BA!  JUMP!"

I have no videos or photos of Max in his jumperoo.  He loved jumping up and down in his Einstein Jumperoo.  We found a new one on the "Booby Brigade" Yahoo group site and drove to Pasadena one day while Max was napping.  The couple who sold it to us said their daughter just cried and cried when she was in it.  Not my Max!  He got so much exercise in that thing.  I would sing "jumpie!  jumpie!  jumpie!" and his smile would get bigger and bigger as his little chubby legs would jump up and up and up.  

Arrowhead was lovely.  Jan's cabin is perfect and there is a deck with a view of the lake.  Ted and I played chess and cards and watched a movie.  It was nice to get away.  I tried, just for one day, to put all of my sad thoughts to the side.  Then, I went to sleep and had that most horrible dream and I woke up Sunday a total wreck.  I spent most of yesterday in a panic.  The horror of Max's death slapping me in the face over and over again.  We went to lunch "someplace fun" (Ted wanted to go "someplace fun", we settled for Gordon Biersch in downtown Burbank).  Wouldn't you know it.  Two families, one inside and one outside with beautiful sets of twins.  The inside twins were probably 4-5 months old, the outside twins were about Maxie's age.  The panic grew so much, tears were flowing down my face and my heart was racing out of my chest.  Then, in one instant, I faced my fears and just watched the babies, because I LOVE BABIES.  And, I WANT MORE BABIES.  I am just so sad that I will never again see MY baby.  My favorite little person.  I have to try to focus on the idea that we will have more babies and that this will NEVER EVER happen again, right?  I mean, this can never ever happen to us again, right?  It just can't.  I wouldn't make it.

I almost forgot to mention that last night Ted was grilling some salmon for dinner.  He called me out on the deck and pointed out the most beautiful, perfect rainbow in the sky.  I actually don't think I have EVER seen a rainbow that didn't come after a storm.  This rainbow came after yesterday's storm though and it felt like a good omen perhaps.

Glendale Pediatrics

I just woke up from the heaviest dream. I was with my mom and our friend Rob and I was telling them how worried I was about Max. I was saying that ever since his incident, his development seems to be stunted. I wasn't sure what to do, did they think I should try a new pediatrician? They looked at each other with a "should we tell her?" glance and Rob said, "if it will put your mind at ease, do it." So, I ran around looking for a private place to make this very important phone call and finally started to dial 411 for the number for Glendale Pediatrics, a practice where many of my friends take their children. While making the call, I was feeling more and more frantic, like I was running out of time. Then, my childhood friend Danna, who is a lawyer in real life but was a doctor in my dream, came over to me and put a hand on my back and asked what I was doing. I told her, in a panic, that I was worried about Max and calling a new pediatrician. She then asked me what was wrong with Max. Couldn't she see I was on an important phone call? I started to explain to her that he had had an incident and that, since then, something wasn't quite right. She allowed me to continue talking but was looking into my eyes and reminding me with her gaze that Max had died. That the incident killed him. I woke up with a gasp! Oh my god! I can't believe this really happened to my Max. It is 4 am and the nightmare of my reality Has just slapped me in the face again.

Devastated

It doesn't matter what grief counselor or spiritual healer or rabbi I meet with, none of them can bring back Maxie.  They are just going to help me learn to live without Max, something that I am not sure that I can or even want to do.  I am just devastated.  I have never felt so old and so young at the very same time.  So old because  I am experiencing something that I NEVER thought I would experience in my lifetime and so young because I could very well have many many years ahead of me still.  I am just beside myself.

Ted's Aunt Jan is lending us her cottage in Lake Arrowhead for the weekend.  We are just going up for the night.  Beth wrote me yesterday and told me that we should enjoy ourselves because we deserve it.  We SHOULD enjoy ourselves because we DO deserve it.  Enjoying myself sounds so foreign but I LOVE my husband and I would like to see us happy again someday.  Maybe we can take some walks and sit on the deck.  Maybe we can find some semblance of peace for a night.

Thank you Aunt Jan... Will let you know how it goes...

Angel Baby

We have not received the coroner's report yet, but it is pretty clear that Maxie died from SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome), even though we were careful to make sure that none of known risk factors were present in our home.  We did not smoke, we did not have any loose blankets of stuffed animals or anything else in his crib, Maxie was put to sleep on his back, in a wearable blanket, in a crib with a tightly fitting sheet.  That is the absolutely crazy thing about SIDS - there are no warning signs and even if you do everything "right", it can still happen.  It is like these little babies are predestined to die.  I have made "friends" with a few mothers of SIDS babies.  I haven't met any of these women yet but I have been emailing with them.  One wrote to me when she was forwarded a message that I wrote to a support group leader.  Bianca found the other two: One because her sister's friend has a child in pre-school with Bianca's boys and the last one had a friend who contacted Bianca after she posted my blog on a mommy website.  They are all in various stages of grief.  One is only a couple of months ahead of me.  The other two are "on the other side", meaning, that they are still sad every single day and that even though the hole in their hearts will never be filled, their hearts have grown as new children have been born.  I am looking forward to that eventual time, but wonder how on earth I would ever sleep again, knowing that healthy babies can be put in their crib and stop breathing.  The statistics say that .06% of the 4,000,000 babies that are born every year die of SIDS, so the chances of this ever happening to us again must be even less than that.  But, we have been part of the "never gonna happen" statistic and there is nothing that can assure me it isn't ever going to happen again.  I just have to have faith, something so elusive to me right now. The mommy who is in the same stage as me says it gives her some peace knowing that there is nothing she can do anyway.  That even if she stayed awake all night long and stared at the baby, if the baby stopped breathing, she probably wouldn't be able to revive him anyway.  She wasn't able to revive her baby that just died.  Max's daycare wasn't able to revive him and they started CPR right away.  I would still probably use a breathing monitor...but I will cross that bridge when I get to it.

In the SIDS community, the babies who have died are often called "Angel Babies".  (I think that many people who have lost children call their babies Angels but I have noticed that it is particularly common in the SIDS community.)  With all that the medical world knows, with all of the research and vaccines and medicines, THIS is still a disease or cause of death that is a total mystery.  The only explanation parents can wrap their brains around it seems, is that these babies must have been angels.  The idea helps parents make sense of the whole scenario.  They call the babies that come after the angels "Rainbow Babies".  Maybe because they appear after the terrible storm.  Maxie was our angel...always was...he didn't need to leave us to prove that.

Teddy's favorite children's song is "The Rainbow Connection" sung by Kermit the Frog.  I have sweet memories of Ted, Maxie and I, hugging in our living room and dancing slowly to this sung.  Those were the moments when it struck me that I had everything in the world I could ever want and we were our own lovely little family.  When Maxie was in the hospital, Teddy played the song for Maxie over and over again and we sang and cried and hugged him.  Last night I had a weird dream in which I found a little girl who seemed to be lost, in a room full of other children and babies.  She had Maxie's spirit somehow.  Anyway, I sat behind her on the floor and put her in my lap and together we started singing the Rainbow Connection.  The song got louder and louder as others begun to join in.  I woke up and the house was quiet, only the sounds of breath coming from Ted, Jake and Layla in the room.  I had to pause for a minute to catch my own breath.  My heart was beating out of my chest.  When I closed my eyes and laid my head on the pillow, I heard the song again.  It was too much actually, like a sound frenzy.  I decided to concentrate on my own breath and try to clear my mind.  Finally, I fell back asleep.  The songs we listened to with Maxie are so bittersweet.  I wonder if "The Rainbow Connection" will be too sacred to share with our "Rainbow Baby" or maybe he/she will just deserve their own soundtrack.  Will I always cry when I hear the sweet songs from Maxie's life?  I never ever want to lose Maxie's soundtrack, just as I never ever want to lose my Maxie.  I will keep him in my heart forever.  My first born, the love of my life.

Caretaking

Yesterday was pure hell.  It felt all day like my soul was trying to leap right out of my body.  Every second of the day was torture.  I sent Ted a text during the day to see how he was feeling and he wrote back, "pretty rough".  I figured he must be having the same kind of day that I was.  As it turns out, the day for him was rough in a different way.  He was stung by three wasps - on his head, his face and the side of his chest.  Poor guy!  Between the stinging insects and the poison oak, he cannot catch a break.  Since he didn't pass out and have to go to the emergency room, I think it is pretty safe that whatever put him in the hospital the week after Maxie's funeral was not a wasp.  These stings or bites that he has now have swollen up and are really red.  The mystery insect hardly left a mark. 
My mom went on Monday to get her arm checked out and it is still broken in half.  It hasn't healed much (if at all) since the day she broke it.  This means many more weeks in her terrible cast.  It breaks my heart.  I have been spending a lot of time with her and I get kind of annoyed when she wants to talk about something other than Maxie or how painful this all is.  She is a fighter.  She works hard to be a really happy person and everyone who knows her knows that her hard work pays off.  She is a very happy person, even though I know this is killing her.
Last night I asked Ted to help me picture what our lives will be like when we are happy again.  He said he can't see that far into the future.  I started crying.  He said he was sorry, he just wasn't in a good mood.  Of course he wasn't.  He had huge welts all over his body from the stings.   I am sorry to both of them for being so selfish.  I am the healthy one.  I can't keep looking to them to take care of me.  Sometimes I feel so ashamed about how much pain I am in when there is nothing physically wrong with me.  My pain is all emotional.  Even if it feels like my heart has been torn out of my body, it hasn't.