Maxie's Candles
Sunday, July 22, 2012
One Year
Saturday, July 21, 2012
I have nothing profound to say today. Nothing you don't know already. Nothing funny or interesting or particularly complex. My heart hurts deeply today. I feel nauseous from the sorrow. I want to curl up into a ball and lie on the ground and cry and heave until I am sick but I can't. I am too pregnant to curl up in a ball or any of those other things.
When I told you that the last time I hugged and kissed my sweet baby was July 19th of last year, I lied of course. I hugged and kissed him and whispered in his ears and smoothed his little eyebrows over his face and nuzzled my nose into his cheeks for two more days. I knew he was gone before he died in our arms on July 21st. I knew he was gone by the time I saw him in the PICU on the 19th. Sometimes I wonder if I hadn't been so sure, maybe he would still be here. Maybe I didn't have enough faith in miracles.
My heart is so heavy today. It hurts. Everything feels heavy. A whole year. In that year, I have barely left my house. It has been the longest year of my life and yet, I can barely remember anything that happened. It is all a blur. Someone wrote me the other day to congratulate me for getting through the year - a great accomplishment, they said. A sickening, deafening, nightmare - doesn't feel like much of an accomplishment. And yet, Ted and I are still standing. Two totally different people than we were a year ago, but somehow - still here.
There isn't much more to say that hasn't been said already. I miss my baby with every ounce of my soul. He is both further away and closer to me each day that I get through. He was the light of my life. The most incredible, wonderful, sweet, delicious thing I have ever known. Without him, life has lost all of its color - most of its meaning.
My heart hurts today so much. There is nothing more to say.
When I told you that the last time I hugged and kissed my sweet baby was July 19th of last year, I lied of course. I hugged and kissed him and whispered in his ears and smoothed his little eyebrows over his face and nuzzled my nose into his cheeks for two more days. I knew he was gone before he died in our arms on July 21st. I knew he was gone by the time I saw him in the PICU on the 19th. Sometimes I wonder if I hadn't been so sure, maybe he would still be here. Maybe I didn't have enough faith in miracles.
My heart is so heavy today. It hurts. Everything feels heavy. A whole year. In that year, I have barely left my house. It has been the longest year of my life and yet, I can barely remember anything that happened. It is all a blur. Someone wrote me the other day to congratulate me for getting through the year - a great accomplishment, they said. A sickening, deafening, nightmare - doesn't feel like much of an accomplishment. And yet, Ted and I are still standing. Two totally different people than we were a year ago, but somehow - still here.
There isn't much more to say that hasn't been said already. I miss my baby with every ounce of my soul. He is both further away and closer to me each day that I get through. He was the light of my life. The most incredible, wonderful, sweet, delicious thing I have ever known. Without him, life has lost all of its color - most of its meaning.
My heart hurts today so much. There is nothing more to say.
The 19th
Friday, July 20, 2012
Thank you so much for your texts, emails and comments yesterday. Ted and I were both receiving so many beautiful words of support from so many people throughout the day. It really feels good to know that Maxie is in your hearts. He is so loved by us, it somehow keeps him a little bit alive knowing that people have taken the time to love and remember him.
We both managed to keep it together fairly well yesterday. I am at the point in my pregnancy where I am too big and uncomfortable to breakdown. I can't even explain it. I can hardly move and I feel like I am going to explode and I have to keep calm as best as I can all of the time because it hurts too much to feel the emotions that I am burying inside of me. I knew that I couldn't visit the cemetery because I can't lay down on his grave. It would be too hard to lie on my side in that grass and I would have too much trouble getting up. I wouldn't really be able to sit or stand there very long either. Instead we did things to keep calm and be together yesterday. It was a really hard day and we have another one coming tomorrow (every day is HARD. Every day.). I finally cracked just before bedtime. One thing that is really pushing my emotional state over the edge is that I have something called PUPPS that occurs in less than 1% of pregnancies. Thank god it only happens in the last trimester with most women who get it but I basically have hives all over my whole body. I itch EVERYWHERE and it is the most miserable itching imaginable and it lasts all day and all night. Apparently there is nothing that really cures the issue up except giving birth (even then, it takes a few weeks to clear up). I am currently trying Dandelion Root - a holistic remedy I found online. It is supposed to take a week to work. I cleared it yesterday with Dr. D. By bedtime last night, I had just completely lost my mind. Suppressing my tears and horror that we have actually lived through a whole year without Max and then, the added stress of a very difficult pregnancy was just too much. Poor Ted, he was so tired and I was just lying next to him in a puddle of tears and self pity. It sucks.
A few of my friends (Ann, Daphna, Auntie Beth) independently came up with the idea of memorializing Maxie by lighting a candle tomorrow, just after 5 pm PST, to memorialize Maxie's life. They have sent out emails and posted the idea on Facebook. I know that when we light a candle in our house tomorrow that we will feel like we are being supported all over the world by friends who are doing the same. Many friends did the same thing for us last year at the same time. If Maxie is out there, I know he will feel the love generating in his honor....how could he not? Would you think about sending us a photo of your candle lighting if you participate? teddyabby at gmail dot com. These small things are such big things for us. It would mean so much.
I also wanted to remind you that we have set up a fund in Maxie's name with First Candle to fund research into SIDS (also advocacy efforts and family support). We think it is a very special way to honor the memory of our baby - who should be here right now with us. I know I have real Chutzpah ("balls" - for lack of a better translation) asking for another donation after so many of you contributed towards Maxie's Forest over the past year....helping us to raise over $100,000 (no small accomplishment). Any amount helps. In Jewish tradition the number 18 represents life (the letters in the word "Chai", which means life add up to 18). That is the reason many people give $18 to support a cause. I wish no other family would have to go through this ever, but, at least once a week, I hear from a new person telling me that they or someone they love has just lost a child to SIDS. There is no way to explain how miserable it is to live life without our babies. My blog doesn't do the experience even a tiny amount of justice. I often feel like I am in hell. When I have ever thought about what the very worst thing I could ever imagine happening would be, I don't think I ever even let this cross my mind. It is a complete horror - for us, for our siblings, for our parents, for everyone who knew and loved Maxie.
I want to let you know that this year we have felt very loved. Your following of our path, the support we feel when we hear from you - by comment, email, text, phone call (even when we don't get back to you right away) - has been what has sustained us through this nightmare. We know that Maxie is still very loved and that means everything to us. If he had lived, he would have touched so many lives (as we all do) through school and playdates and summer camps and college and work and other friendships throughout his life. He didn't get that opportunity. But, you all have shown him so much love and that is the best we can do give him the "life" he so deserved. Thank you so much from the bottom of our hearts for helping us get through this first year. Thank you for keeping Maxie close and for loving him without, in many cases, every having even met him. What a gift it has been to know you are there. I am not sure how we will ever repay your kindness.
We both managed to keep it together fairly well yesterday. I am at the point in my pregnancy where I am too big and uncomfortable to breakdown. I can't even explain it. I can hardly move and I feel like I am going to explode and I have to keep calm as best as I can all of the time because it hurts too much to feel the emotions that I am burying inside of me. I knew that I couldn't visit the cemetery because I can't lay down on his grave. It would be too hard to lie on my side in that grass and I would have too much trouble getting up. I wouldn't really be able to sit or stand there very long either. Instead we did things to keep calm and be together yesterday. It was a really hard day and we have another one coming tomorrow (every day is HARD. Every day.). I finally cracked just before bedtime. One thing that is really pushing my emotional state over the edge is that I have something called PUPPS that occurs in less than 1% of pregnancies. Thank god it only happens in the last trimester with most women who get it but I basically have hives all over my whole body. I itch EVERYWHERE and it is the most miserable itching imaginable and it lasts all day and all night. Apparently there is nothing that really cures the issue up except giving birth (even then, it takes a few weeks to clear up). I am currently trying Dandelion Root - a holistic remedy I found online. It is supposed to take a week to work. I cleared it yesterday with Dr. D. By bedtime last night, I had just completely lost my mind. Suppressing my tears and horror that we have actually lived through a whole year without Max and then, the added stress of a very difficult pregnancy was just too much. Poor Ted, he was so tired and I was just lying next to him in a puddle of tears and self pity. It sucks.
A few of my friends (Ann, Daphna, Auntie Beth) independently came up with the idea of memorializing Maxie by lighting a candle tomorrow, just after 5 pm PST, to memorialize Maxie's life. They have sent out emails and posted the idea on Facebook. I know that when we light a candle in our house tomorrow that we will feel like we are being supported all over the world by friends who are doing the same. Many friends did the same thing for us last year at the same time. If Maxie is out there, I know he will feel the love generating in his honor....how could he not? Would you think about sending us a photo of your candle lighting if you participate? teddyabby at gmail dot com. These small things are such big things for us. It would mean so much.
I also wanted to remind you that we have set up a fund in Maxie's name with First Candle to fund research into SIDS (also advocacy efforts and family support). We think it is a very special way to honor the memory of our baby - who should be here right now with us. I know I have real Chutzpah ("balls" - for lack of a better translation) asking for another donation after so many of you contributed towards Maxie's Forest over the past year....helping us to raise over $100,000 (no small accomplishment). Any amount helps. In Jewish tradition the number 18 represents life (the letters in the word "Chai", which means life add up to 18). That is the reason many people give $18 to support a cause. I wish no other family would have to go through this ever, but, at least once a week, I hear from a new person telling me that they or someone they love has just lost a child to SIDS. There is no way to explain how miserable it is to live life without our babies. My blog doesn't do the experience even a tiny amount of justice. I often feel like I am in hell. When I have ever thought about what the very worst thing I could ever imagine happening would be, I don't think I ever even let this cross my mind. It is a complete horror - for us, for our siblings, for our parents, for everyone who knew and loved Maxie.
I want to let you know that this year we have felt very loved. Your following of our path, the support we feel when we hear from you - by comment, email, text, phone call (even when we don't get back to you right away) - has been what has sustained us through this nightmare. We know that Maxie is still very loved and that means everything to us. If he had lived, he would have touched so many lives (as we all do) through school and playdates and summer camps and college and work and other friendships throughout his life. He didn't get that opportunity. But, you all have shown him so much love and that is the best we can do give him the "life" he so deserved. Thank you so much from the bottom of our hearts for helping us get through this first year. Thank you for keeping Maxie close and for loving him without, in many cases, every having even met him. What a gift it has been to know you are there. I am not sure how we will ever repay your kindness.
Maxie's last photo
Thursday, July 19, 2012
This is the last photo taken of our Max. A snapshot of my former life. My two happy boys, goofing around together. Maxie so joyful, being held by his doting dad. My husband, a proud and much more innocent and happy young father. My two greatest loves. This is how I will always remember the best days of my life.
It has been one year since the last time I hugged my baby tight, fed him breakfast, kissed his sweet face, carried him into daycare on my hip and said goodbye. Every day is an eternity without him. Every day, I am one day closer to being with him again.
Maxie, you are the most wonderful blessing my life has ever known. I love you.
Love,
Mommy
This week
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Ted and I wondered to each other last night how we didn't realize that this week would be this complicated. Did we not even calculate what the due date of this baby would be when we were trying for him back in November? Of course, we didn't....we just waited for the fertility monitor to read that our chances were "high" and went for it. We had just suffered an early miscarriage a few weeks before and we didn't want to miss the opportunity to become parents again as soon as possible. In fact, it is quite possible that Baby M was conceived in the middle of the day, at my sister-in-law's house, with our niece Sadie banging on the guest room door and yelling, "An Abbay! An Abbay!" (Aunt Abby) over and over until we emerged from the room. (too much information?) All I know, is it had to be done.....que romantico!
So, here we are, 9 months later and in this one week, two of the most highly anticipated events in our lives are coinciding...and it is nearly too much to bear. There is nothing more special and wonderful and highly anticipated than the birth of a child. If you've had one. you know. That it could happen any day, that it doesn't happen when you want it, that it is a wonderful surprise that changes your life forever, that it is also scary because it comes with so much responsibility (whether it is your first or fifth) - I don't care how devoid of emotions you are, it is impossible not to feel all of these things. There is nothing more dreaded and filled with sad complexity than the anniversary of the death of your child. You try to plan what you will do that day, how you will make it through. You wonder if it will break you, how far back will it set you emotionally, how you will continue to move through your lifetime knowing that you will have to do this every day forever. The days are approaching and I miss him so much. I miss him more now than ever. He is my entire world. This is why I prayed that these two events would not collide. This is why I prayed Baby M would get here first. Maxie's angel day could easily break me....I am already so broken.
And, of course, all week I have been getting emails and texts about how excited everyone is to meet Baby M. It is cruel irony when my biggest fear all along has been that people would forget Max, that people would forget the day of his passing, that people would stop mentioning him as soon as they found out I was pregnant and then even more so after his sibling was born. It is like I accidentally planned the perfect excuse for everyone in my world to just overlook his life. It makes me feel like a shitty parent - to both of them. To Max for allowing his new brother to overshadow a period of time that should be devoted to his memory. To Baby M for marring his birthday forever with the anniversary of his brother's passing - he is sure to wonder at some point in his life whether my love for Max outweighs my love for him. I have wondered this about my own brother for my whole life and our parents relationship with the two of us isn't nearly as complex (although since Max's passing, all of my relationships are 1000 times more complex).
I have a distinct memory of cuddling with Max. Kissing him and holding him close to me and thinking that if I could, I would want to travel back in time to let a younger Abby know that it all works out. That she finally does meet the man of her dreams, that she has an exciting and fulfilling career, and that she has a beautiful and healthy baby. I wanted to assure her that life would be beautiful and that she would one day be so lucky to have it all. It's a good thing that younger Abby didn't know what was coming. Younger Abby, who was sometimes so scared that she would end up alone, without a family, and without meaning in her life could never have imagined just how terrible life would someday become - how incredibly challenging it would be - how nothing could have ever prepared her for the heartbreak she would someday feel. I can't help but wonder what an older version of myself might say to Abby today. Perhaps - Don't worry, Baby M eventually comes and he helps to light up your life again. Or, you WILL find Maxie in this lifetime, you just have to keep meditating and talking to him. He will be with you again, I promise. Or, simply, that things DO get better. Or, god forbid - this loss was only the beginning. Please please please - not that last one.
Tomorrow marks a year since my baby stopped breathing and I still don't know why. The geneticists don't think it had anything to do with genetics and every other possible cause remains a complete mystery. Why did MY baby have to die? Why? He was perfect and sweet and my very dream come true and he deserved EVERYTHING....everything that Ted and I could possibly give him. And, now he has nothing. And we don't have him and my heart breaks again every single day. And, oh god, I wish I had Baby M in my arms to help soothe this pain but it didn't work out that way. It wasn't meant to be. Everything happens for a reason, "they" say. Can someone please explain to me what the reasons are for ANY of this? Because it is just too complex for me to work out. The burden is so effing heavy that my heart feels like it is about to bust wide open. All I know is this week is barely tolerable...just barely...
If I don't go into labor naturally before then, I will be induced in exactly one week. So, all I know for sure is that by one week from today - we will have lived through Maxie's angel days and we will either be holding his brother or close to it. So now, I am up in the middle of the night (as usual) praying that I have the strength to make it through this one week....and then all of the weeks that follow for the rest of my life. It won't be easy.
So, here we are, 9 months later and in this one week, two of the most highly anticipated events in our lives are coinciding...and it is nearly too much to bear. There is nothing more special and wonderful and highly anticipated than the birth of a child. If you've had one. you know. That it could happen any day, that it doesn't happen when you want it, that it is a wonderful surprise that changes your life forever, that it is also scary because it comes with so much responsibility (whether it is your first or fifth) - I don't care how devoid of emotions you are, it is impossible not to feel all of these things. There is nothing more dreaded and filled with sad complexity than the anniversary of the death of your child. You try to plan what you will do that day, how you will make it through. You wonder if it will break you, how far back will it set you emotionally, how you will continue to move through your lifetime knowing that you will have to do this every day forever. The days are approaching and I miss him so much. I miss him more now than ever. He is my entire world. This is why I prayed that these two events would not collide. This is why I prayed Baby M would get here first. Maxie's angel day could easily break me....I am already so broken.
And, of course, all week I have been getting emails and texts about how excited everyone is to meet Baby M. It is cruel irony when my biggest fear all along has been that people would forget Max, that people would forget the day of his passing, that people would stop mentioning him as soon as they found out I was pregnant and then even more so after his sibling was born. It is like I accidentally planned the perfect excuse for everyone in my world to just overlook his life. It makes me feel like a shitty parent - to both of them. To Max for allowing his new brother to overshadow a period of time that should be devoted to his memory. To Baby M for marring his birthday forever with the anniversary of his brother's passing - he is sure to wonder at some point in his life whether my love for Max outweighs my love for him. I have wondered this about my own brother for my whole life and our parents relationship with the two of us isn't nearly as complex (although since Max's passing, all of my relationships are 1000 times more complex).
I have a distinct memory of cuddling with Max. Kissing him and holding him close to me and thinking that if I could, I would want to travel back in time to let a younger Abby know that it all works out. That she finally does meet the man of her dreams, that she has an exciting and fulfilling career, and that she has a beautiful and healthy baby. I wanted to assure her that life would be beautiful and that she would one day be so lucky to have it all. It's a good thing that younger Abby didn't know what was coming. Younger Abby, who was sometimes so scared that she would end up alone, without a family, and without meaning in her life could never have imagined just how terrible life would someday become - how incredibly challenging it would be - how nothing could have ever prepared her for the heartbreak she would someday feel. I can't help but wonder what an older version of myself might say to Abby today. Perhaps - Don't worry, Baby M eventually comes and he helps to light up your life again. Or, you WILL find Maxie in this lifetime, you just have to keep meditating and talking to him. He will be with you again, I promise. Or, simply, that things DO get better. Or, god forbid - this loss was only the beginning. Please please please - not that last one.
Tomorrow marks a year since my baby stopped breathing and I still don't know why. The geneticists don't think it had anything to do with genetics and every other possible cause remains a complete mystery. Why did MY baby have to die? Why? He was perfect and sweet and my very dream come true and he deserved EVERYTHING....everything that Ted and I could possibly give him. And, now he has nothing. And we don't have him and my heart breaks again every single day. And, oh god, I wish I had Baby M in my arms to help soothe this pain but it didn't work out that way. It wasn't meant to be. Everything happens for a reason, "they" say. Can someone please explain to me what the reasons are for ANY of this? Because it is just too complex for me to work out. The burden is so effing heavy that my heart feels like it is about to bust wide open. All I know is this week is barely tolerable...just barely...
If I don't go into labor naturally before then, I will be induced in exactly one week. So, all I know for sure is that by one week from today - we will have lived through Maxie's angel days and we will either be holding his brother or close to it. So now, I am up in the middle of the night (as usual) praying that I have the strength to make it through this one week....and then all of the weeks that follow for the rest of my life. It won't be easy.
Rays of Sunlight
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
I wrote a bit about recognizing your blessings on Sunday. I was actually speaking to those who have not experienced traumatic or complex loss or grief. Just one year ago, I was one of those people. For whatever reason, I assumed I would always be (relatively speaking). Being able to recognize my own blessings for myself has taken me a full year. Before I realized these blessings on my own, many people counted my blessings for me. I found it incredibly hurtful, inauthentic, and selfish. They pointed out all of the things that were good in my life, as if those things somehow made up for the fact that my Max, a baby of only 9 1/2 months old, had died. They just didn't want to deal with my being in pain. There are no amount of blessings that make up for the fact that Maxie's life ended so quickly. Not 10 more healthy children, winning the lottery for hundreds of millions of dollars, 100 brand new empathetic and lovely friends, the best marriage under the sun....nothing. If you are in grief, if you have suffered trauma, if you are in a depression, if you are lonely....only YOU can recognize your own blessings. Don't let anyone count them for you, because they will only feel like blessings once you are ready to recognize them. And if you are not in deep grief but know someone who is suffering, just acknowledge their suffering. You cannot count their blessings without them being on board. It is like a slap in the face and it feels incredibly cruel. Just don't do it.
I am grateful that at times, even if very rarely, I am able to see past our loss. I wouldn't be here right now if I couldn't. But, that doesn't make the loss any less painful. You MUST know that (right?) I would trade any one of my blessings for Maxie's life. He was worth more to me than anything I have ever known. I would gladly exchange my own life for his. If only it were possible. It should be obvious. When people told me, "at least you have your health", they didn't stop to recognize that I didn't want it anymore. I wanted Max to have his. But, really this message is for those who cannot see the light yet. Don't let anyone pressure you into getting there before you are ready. Your suffering is likely appropriate. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise. It is insulting. When you start to come out of the tunnel, and see your first glimpses of light, they will be YOURS and they will feel authentic. Nobody can give you that gift but you. It won't happen overnight or all at once. I am JUST NOW seeing those rays and I have waited so long for them to start shining on me. I might lose them again at the end of this week but now that I have seen them, I know they are there. They will appear again for you too. Some day. That may be in a few weeks, in a few months, or in a few years. It might take longer...but you will see them again. They won't make up for the loss you have suffered. They may not even really make you feel better. I am not sure that they make me feel better. And they may never, ever shine as brightly as they once did. Still, my wish for you is that you will feel your blessings again. I believe it can happen.
I am grateful that at times, even if very rarely, I am able to see past our loss. I wouldn't be here right now if I couldn't. But, that doesn't make the loss any less painful. You MUST know that (right?) I would trade any one of my blessings for Maxie's life. He was worth more to me than anything I have ever known. I would gladly exchange my own life for his. If only it were possible. It should be obvious. When people told me, "at least you have your health", they didn't stop to recognize that I didn't want it anymore. I wanted Max to have his. But, really this message is for those who cannot see the light yet. Don't let anyone pressure you into getting there before you are ready. Your suffering is likely appropriate. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise. It is insulting. When you start to come out of the tunnel, and see your first glimpses of light, they will be YOURS and they will feel authentic. Nobody can give you that gift but you. It won't happen overnight or all at once. I am JUST NOW seeing those rays and I have waited so long for them to start shining on me. I might lose them again at the end of this week but now that I have seen them, I know they are there. They will appear again for you too. Some day. That may be in a few weeks, in a few months, or in a few years. It might take longer...but you will see them again. They won't make up for the loss you have suffered. They may not even really make you feel better. I am not sure that they make me feel better. And they may never, ever shine as brightly as they once did. Still, my wish for you is that you will feel your blessings again. I believe it can happen.
"The Sun Still Shines When You're Not Here, But Never As Bright, Never Ever The Same"
My new friend Jamie, who reads my blog, sent me this idea for a project in memory of Maxie that I have been working on to hang in our living room. It has kept me busy for many hours and has given me the feeling of still being Maxie's mommy, creating something colorful and pretty for him. Ted made stencils for all of the letters and then I cut them out of felt and sewed them to this canvas. Thank you Jamie for giving me some creative purpose. I'm looking for my next project.
PS - As it turns out, saying "Let's do this!" and making catchers mitt hands under your partners pelvis does not induce labor. Bummer.
Neither does begging god for mercy with flowing tears in the quiet of the middle of the night or any other method we have tried.
Baby M - I am so lonely without you. Let's do this!
PS - As it turns out, saying "Let's do this!" and making catchers mitt hands under your partners pelvis does not induce labor. Bummer.
Neither does begging god for mercy with flowing tears in the quiet of the middle of the night or any other method we have tried.
Baby M - I am so lonely without you. Let's do this!
Joy
Monday, July 16, 2012
I always write about how happy my Maxie
was but truly, it is this baby's capacity to feel SO much joy that
brings me to me knees. What an incredible waste that his life was
taken from him! He had so much love for life and such an all
consuming smile – it was infectious. I have many, many photos of
Maxie's beautiful smile (not nearly enough though) but it is these
photos of his complete and overwhelming joy that stab at me like a
knife. He was a complete joy of a baby and a human being. He
brought so much joy into my life. I loved every minute of being his
mommy. My heart will never be the same.
Blessed
Sunday, July 15, 2012
As a follow up on yesterday's post, I felt I should clarify: we don't know who made the mistake. We don't know if the Coroner's office accidentally didn't include the blood in the package or if the Mayo Clinic accidentally threw the blood away with the packing materials when the package arrived. This really only compounds the frustration. Each side insists that they were not at fault. My concern is that "not being at fault" is likely more important to each side than finding the blood. I tend to believe that I have a pretty good feeling who made the mistake, because they have been making mistakes all along and because they are even currently under investigation for making mistakes - but I'll leave it there. I believe that no matter who made the mistake, the element of human compassion was lacking - as it generally seems to be. I keep finding that people are much more interested in telling me that it wasn't their fault than they are in telling me how terribly sorry they are that we lost our beautiful son.
I think Ted and I both feel the same way about this incredibly botched incident, which is that there is just nothing we can do about it. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. Perhaps we have found out all that we are meant to find out. We both work so hard to get as much information about this as possible for the sake of Maxie and Baby M and I am really not sure what else we can possibly do at times. We are trying our best. We have managed to move through this weekend fairly calm so far. I worried that this incident would break me (again). Maybe I am already too broken.
But perhaps our incident(s) can give you some perspective. It is so much easier said than done, I recognize. At this stage in my journey, I know that there is nothing as stressful or painful as losing our child (and I hope that there never will be again). The loss of his blood didn't come anywhere near close. It is just another in a long succession of triggers that hurts my heart and reminds me that Max is truly gone from my life. Please believe me when I tell you that you are most likely very blessed. I know how stressful every day struggles can be, but do yourself a favor, and take a step back and savor the moment because you never know how long it will last. And, (I think I get to say this even though it hurts me when you say it to me) - hug your kids a little tighter, love your spouse despite his/her faults, cherish the adventure of being alive for a while (even if things aren't exactly how you want them to be - because you aren't making enough money, or haven't yet met the love of your life, or whatever else is haunting you), compromise with your friends, family and co-workers, feel grateful for the life that you have (if you can) for as long as you can. Once again I am preachy but I know how easy it is to take blessings for granted. Find just five minutes to think about all that you DO have instead of what you DON'T.
There are still blessings in our lives. In fact, my greatest grief is not being able to share those blessings with Max and that he will never get to create blessings for himself, because he was so happy, because I know had he lived that his life would have been beautiful. Ted and I have a small but sweet house that we are so lucky to have been able to hide away in this past year. We have our two loving dogs, Layla and Jake. They bring smiles to our faces every day. We have our families and friends, many of whom have walked this scary and agonizing road with us step by step for the last year - supporting us through emotional battles, supporting us by remembering Maxie, supporting us by helping us to memorialize his life through our charitable efforts. We have each other and have managed to continue loving one another despite this greatest of challenges to a marriage. We have Maxie's little brother on the way (and though he will never be here soon enough for me - the promise of his arrival is the most delicious present I can imagine). As terrifying as life can be, there are always blessings. Even when I am feeling most hopeless, I try to remember that I am truly blessed in some ways. Realizing this is the best that I can do for myself for today.
I think Ted and I both feel the same way about this incredibly botched incident, which is that there is just nothing we can do about it. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. Perhaps we have found out all that we are meant to find out. We both work so hard to get as much information about this as possible for the sake of Maxie and Baby M and I am really not sure what else we can possibly do at times. We are trying our best. We have managed to move through this weekend fairly calm so far. I worried that this incident would break me (again). Maybe I am already too broken.
But perhaps our incident(s) can give you some perspective. It is so much easier said than done, I recognize. At this stage in my journey, I know that there is nothing as stressful or painful as losing our child (and I hope that there never will be again). The loss of his blood didn't come anywhere near close. It is just another in a long succession of triggers that hurts my heart and reminds me that Max is truly gone from my life. Please believe me when I tell you that you are most likely very blessed. I know how stressful every day struggles can be, but do yourself a favor, and take a step back and savor the moment because you never know how long it will last. And, (I think I get to say this even though it hurts me when you say it to me) - hug your kids a little tighter, love your spouse despite his/her faults, cherish the adventure of being alive for a while (even if things aren't exactly how you want them to be - because you aren't making enough money, or haven't yet met the love of your life, or whatever else is haunting you), compromise with your friends, family and co-workers, feel grateful for the life that you have (if you can) for as long as you can. Once again I am preachy but I know how easy it is to take blessings for granted. Find just five minutes to think about all that you DO have instead of what you DON'T.
There are still blessings in our lives. In fact, my greatest grief is not being able to share those blessings with Max and that he will never get to create blessings for himself, because he was so happy, because I know had he lived that his life would have been beautiful. Ted and I have a small but sweet house that we are so lucky to have been able to hide away in this past year. We have our two loving dogs, Layla and Jake. They bring smiles to our faces every day. We have our families and friends, many of whom have walked this scary and agonizing road with us step by step for the last year - supporting us through emotional battles, supporting us by remembering Maxie, supporting us by helping us to memorialize his life through our charitable efforts. We have each other and have managed to continue loving one another despite this greatest of challenges to a marriage. We have Maxie's little brother on the way (and though he will never be here soon enough for me - the promise of his arrival is the most delicious present I can imagine). As terrifying as life can be, there are always blessings. Even when I am feeling most hopeless, I try to remember that I am truly blessed in some ways. Realizing this is the best that I can do for myself for today.
Lost
Saturday, July 14, 2012
One of the great horrors of this past year and trying to find any peace at all is the frequency with which we are retraumatized. Sometimes these traumas are practically unrelated to the death of Max, like when I was called for jury duty. Sometimes they are related to the selfishness of others. Often they are related to new potential findings about Maxie and the handling of the last remaining parts of his physical body.
Well, it has happened again. Just when I think we are almost done with this part of the nightmare. Ted has been back and forth with the coroner's office and the Mayo Clinic all week trying to arrange the frozen shipment of the last samples of Maxie's blood and urine. The very LAST samples. A leading geneticist offered to organize some additional testing on Maxie's blood for anything else that could possibly be ruled out or found with relation to his passing. This is important to us so that we are sure we are doing everything we can to ensure a healthy life for Baby M. Every time we have to email back and forth with the coroners office about Maxie's body parts, I can feel the vomit rising in my throat and the knife stabbing deeper into my heart. This is what is left of my child. The one I grew so happily inside of my own body. The one I nursed and kissed and loved and sung to. 3 vials of blood and a urine sample (and a liver sitting on a shelf in a refrigerator in downtown Los Angeles). It is a complete horror. Ted feels exactly the same.
The package arrived at the Mayo Clinic yesterday morning and they wrote to us with cc's to the coroner and everyone else saying that they received the urine, but not the blood. The coroners office replied that they had send it all in one package. The person who packaged the samples explained how they were packed - Three vials of blood in a ziplock with ice, wrapped in butcher paper on top of a smaller box with the urine sample also in a ziplock bag with ice in a bigger box with dry ice. The Mayo Clinic had maybe thrown it out by accident? Ted responded in a panic saying "This is all we have left of my son. Please tell me that you have found the blood". Several hours later, another response from the Mayo Clinic saying that they had been through all of the trash cans and recycle bins and searched in every possible location and they could not find it anywhere.
I wrote back begging everyone to check again:
"Maxie is my baby. He is the most important person in my life. The last year without him has nearly killed me. As I am writing this, I can feel his little brother, who I am nine months pregnant with, hiccuping inside my gigantic belly. I know that whatever we find out about what took our beloved baby's life could help to ensure that this new baby will get to live his. I am not sure why this has happened with the lost blood but the trauma is being felt very deeply. If you can please check again both in LA and at the Mayo Clinic, it would mean so much to us. The blood is his last remaining blood. We feel so protective of his every part. Every lock of hair we saved, every item of clothing with his spit up and baby smell. Please check again."
The response I received from the Mayo Clinic:
"Dear Ms. Leviss,
So there it is. No blood. Nobody to blame (as usual - because we KNOW how everyone protects their own asses). Nothing to be done. An offer to delve deeper into the mystery of this nightmare gone in an instant. Gone like my baby's life. Again, everyone involved in this situation will move on with their day and Ted and I will drown deeper into this pain, knowing that Maxie's life has been reduced to just this - Lost.
Well, it has happened again. Just when I think we are almost done with this part of the nightmare. Ted has been back and forth with the coroner's office and the Mayo Clinic all week trying to arrange the frozen shipment of the last samples of Maxie's blood and urine. The very LAST samples. A leading geneticist offered to organize some additional testing on Maxie's blood for anything else that could possibly be ruled out or found with relation to his passing. This is important to us so that we are sure we are doing everything we can to ensure a healthy life for Baby M. Every time we have to email back and forth with the coroners office about Maxie's body parts, I can feel the vomit rising in my throat and the knife stabbing deeper into my heart. This is what is left of my child. The one I grew so happily inside of my own body. The one I nursed and kissed and loved and sung to. 3 vials of blood and a urine sample (and a liver sitting on a shelf in a refrigerator in downtown Los Angeles). It is a complete horror. Ted feels exactly the same.
The package arrived at the Mayo Clinic yesterday morning and they wrote to us with cc's to the coroner and everyone else saying that they received the urine, but not the blood. The coroners office replied that they had send it all in one package. The person who packaged the samples explained how they were packed - Three vials of blood in a ziplock with ice, wrapped in butcher paper on top of a smaller box with the urine sample also in a ziplock bag with ice in a bigger box with dry ice. The Mayo Clinic had maybe thrown it out by accident? Ted responded in a panic saying "This is all we have left of my son. Please tell me that you have found the blood". Several hours later, another response from the Mayo Clinic saying that they had been through all of the trash cans and recycle bins and searched in every possible location and they could not find it anywhere.
I wrote back begging everyone to check again:
"Maxie is my baby. He is the most important person in my life. The last year without him has nearly killed me. As I am writing this, I can feel his little brother, who I am nine months pregnant with, hiccuping inside my gigantic belly. I know that whatever we find out about what took our beloved baby's life could help to ensure that this new baby will get to live his. I am not sure why this has happened with the lost blood but the trauma is being felt very deeply. If you can please check again both in LA and at the Mayo Clinic, it would mean so much to us. The blood is his last remaining blood. We feel so protective of his every part. Every lock of hair we saved, every item of clothing with his spit up and baby smell. Please check again."
The response I received from the Mayo Clinic:
"Dear Ms. Leviss,
I don't know where else to look on our end after already having checked twice in even the most unlikely locations. The package came without any paperwork which is unusual and further suggests to me that we did not receive a complete shipment.
Either way, assuming that your son was born in California, leftover newborn screening dried blood spots should still be available at the newborn screening program in Richmond and could be retrieved if necessary. However, if the CA newborn screen was normal, a diagnosis of (this genetic) deficiency (which I believe was suspected) is unlikely."
So there it is. No blood. Nobody to blame (as usual - because we KNOW how everyone protects their own asses). Nothing to be done. An offer to delve deeper into the mystery of this nightmare gone in an instant. Gone like my baby's life. Again, everyone involved in this situation will move on with their day and Ted and I will drown deeper into this pain, knowing that Maxie's life has been reduced to just this - Lost.
"Connecting"
Friday, July 13, 2012
Over the past year, I have seen/talked to many different kinds of people about my grief. I saw a hypnotherapist, an acupuncturist, a couple of grief counselors, a whole bunch of mediums, a handful of rabbis and a spiritual guru. Some of these experiences have been incredibly helpful, some have left me bruised, unsatisfied or wanting more. While a couple of these individuals have been too insensitive to actually be working with people in grief, others have been people that I have deeply connected to in my vulnerability. Perhaps my relationships have even "crossed the line" somewhat. Not in any dramatic, unethical way, but in a way that these relationships generally don't blur. Also, just because the lines have blurred for me in various ways, doesn't mean that they have blurred for the other person. I like the way the lines have blurred for the most part but I am smart enough to know that several of my experiences are not typical. For example: I got so close to my spiritual guru that I try not to worry every day that she might think I don't love her anymore simply because I stopped going to her yoga class or visiting her for weekly advice sessions. She told me almost as much about her own life as I told her about mine. We became friends. I wonder if I should invite her to lunch or if we were just friends in the context of her helping me. Don't know for sure.
I am thinking about this today because of several recent happenings. The first one is that our grief counselor lost her mother this week. Ted and I were both very upset by the news, even though we know it has been building up to this for weeks. We love her and hate to think of her in pain. We haven't seen our grief counselor in about three weeks. She has taken time off to be with her mom in these final days. Selfishly, I have to admit that it has been so hard to not have her visits. I have told her things over the past year that I have not told anyone else. There have been weeks that I just laid in bed, totally despondent waiting for our Wednesday sessions so that I could unload and then felt 100 times better afterwards...the weight lifted briefly from my shoulders. Of course, counseling has its limitations - it doesn't make people treat you any nicer, it doesn't make the burden of living any easier, it doesn't bring back Max. But, I have cherished our relationship with our counselor and have come to see her as part of our little family. Ted and I both love her. The truth is that we have all three become friends and we have supported (as much as she has let us) her struggles during the time we have known her. She insists that she is ready to come help us again. And, I am missing her so much. But, how can I talk to her about how hopeless I am when I know she is herself in early grief? She wrote me a text right after her mom died saying that even though she knew it would be hard, it was so much harder than she ever imagined....and she has been working in hospice care for years. She is the one who is always encouraging me that things will get better. What if she doesn't believe that anymore? It is one of those things that is what it is...her life will keep moving and she will continue seeing people in deep grief while she works this out. I can only imagine the pain of the new role she finds herself in. Still, I feel like I need her. This has been such a hard period for me, these last days of pregnancy and I am just sinking without a lifeboat in sight. Which is why I booked another appointment with a medium......
I found this medium the way I find all other helpers in my new life....total random connections. I attended the afterlife conference, I met a guy there who wrote a book about losing his son (more about him and the book in the future), he told me about a therapist in Washington who helps people to connect to their deceased loved ones, I spoke to her (more about her at some point as well), and she told me about a medium she works with who is a bereaved mother and has connected well over 200 parents with their deceased children over the past year. Sign me up! A medium who understands the pain of this loss - even if her reading was half as good as any of the others who came before her, it wouldn't matter because she would UNDERSTAND. They never understand....and you know I long to be understood. Even the ones who have tried their best to understand, don't. Mediums aren't grief counselors....maybe talking to the dead and bereaved all day numbs them to loss - kind of like working in an ER. Hey, I have worked in settings where the focus was on the Holocaust and the Genocide in Darfur and I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that most of the time, my job was my job. I couldn't attach too deeply or I wouldn't have made it.
Our appointment yesterday was for the early evening. I was anxiously anticipating the call all day. My morning really bummed me out. I spent lunchtime with my friend Amy, which helped to take my mind off the disappointment of the morning. She has had three babies with Dr. D and reminded me that sometimes he says things and they change. I should take everything with a grain of salt. She helped clear the doom from my brain for the moment, which was so helpful in getting me through the day. Anyway, the medium was running a little late, but called me about ten minutes after the official start of our appointment. She started off strong, saying there was a little boy with her, asking if my mom's name is Susan or Suzy, talking about a J name (could be one of our grandfathers or Maxie's middle name), then it all kind of turned mushy. She actually called herself out. She said that just before our call, she had to change the ink in her printer and the machine went crazy and flung ink across her and the room she was in. Then she had to hurry up to get on our call. She was frazzled. Usually she needs to meditate and sage the room before her calls. Listen, what the hell do I know about mediumship? The excuse sounded reasonable to me. I am frazzled by much less than ink flying all over me and the room I am in. She asked if I wanted to reschedule and I said sure, so we decided upon next week. She told me she was so sorry as she knows I am a bereaved parent and that these readings are so important to us. I told her I was so sorry to know that she was also a bereaved parent and that I had read through her blog and was so saddened by her family's loss.
Her son was eleven years old and died in his sleep of Long QT syndrome. She is the one who found him in the morning two years ago. Since most of her appointments "connect" and they talk for an hour about the clients loss and passed loved ones, she probably doesn't hear much compassion from other bereaved parents while doing her work. My comment started a three hour phone call about what "this new life" is like. Literally - three hours. In fact, a little more than that. We talked about the horror of the sudden loss, the PTSD, the various treatments and therapies, the loss of old friendships, the gratefulness for new friendships, the amazing capacity of some to walk with us. We talked about not wanting to be social, about the complexity of grief groups, the inability to move forward, the desire at times to just go be with our boys. Of course, for three hours, I had to be careful not to mention Maxie's name, his age, his cause of death, my pregnancy, and any other details about our life because she is still giving me a reading next week (unless Baby M comes early!!!!!) I found out that she is doing a reading next week for the author I met at the conference. I found out that she went to the medium that did my reading at the conference and had a similar experience with him (side note: many mediums have now told me that THEY go see other mediums when they are in grief. The reasons for this are that they often have a hard time trusting what they receive on their own - they, like me, wonder if they are just hearing what they want to hear and so vulnerable that they will believe or make up whatever they "need" to hear. Also, they find it more validating even when it comes from someone else. Go figure). She explained to me that because she "talks to the dead", people think that she should be fine with her son's death. Only, she doesn't want to be "connecting" to her son through clairvoyancy, she wants to be connecting to him over breakfast at the kitchen counter. She told me that she has been seeking out other parents further down the path than she is and trying to find hope in their journeys. I told her I was doing the same. There were many times when she said, "I haven't told this to anyone else but...." I didn't really do the same, because I want her to tell me that stuff next week, but eventually I will....because I think we are now friends. I am invested in her journey. Even if my reading isn't great, I am sure I'll still want to keep in touch and follow her blog and continue building our friendship.
Sometimes I wonder if these new relationships aren't just as helpful as the actual therapies that I am seeking. Perhaps the connection is more important than the "connection" in some ways. My expectation when attending the afterlife conference was to "find" Maxie, not necessarily to find a group of other moms who had lost children. But, the real treasure in that experience was the other moms, not necessarily the break out sessions and discussions of the afterlife. Maybe what I am really looking for in large part is a deeper connection to other people - people who not only listen to me but share their insight from experience as well. Perhaps this is the "real" grief work. Before this last reading, I told Ted that I have to stop befriending mediums. We start talking about friend stuff and then they forget to look for Maxie for me. So much for that one. :) - and yes, I've just used an emoticon. I feel like the reading is better when they have no idea who I am (which should be incredibly obvious, right?) But, I like to make friends and share life experiences and help other people through this hell. So, I don't know. If I were one of them (the mediums, the spiritual gurus, even our grief counselor), I would say all of these contacts and new relationships are coming into my life for a reason. That they are, in fact, part of my "soul's contract". The more I journey down this path, the more I wonder also if they might be right....for whatever that is worth.
I am thinking about this today because of several recent happenings. The first one is that our grief counselor lost her mother this week. Ted and I were both very upset by the news, even though we know it has been building up to this for weeks. We love her and hate to think of her in pain. We haven't seen our grief counselor in about three weeks. She has taken time off to be with her mom in these final days. Selfishly, I have to admit that it has been so hard to not have her visits. I have told her things over the past year that I have not told anyone else. There have been weeks that I just laid in bed, totally despondent waiting for our Wednesday sessions so that I could unload and then felt 100 times better afterwards...the weight lifted briefly from my shoulders. Of course, counseling has its limitations - it doesn't make people treat you any nicer, it doesn't make the burden of living any easier, it doesn't bring back Max. But, I have cherished our relationship with our counselor and have come to see her as part of our little family. Ted and I both love her. The truth is that we have all three become friends and we have supported (as much as she has let us) her struggles during the time we have known her. She insists that she is ready to come help us again. And, I am missing her so much. But, how can I talk to her about how hopeless I am when I know she is herself in early grief? She wrote me a text right after her mom died saying that even though she knew it would be hard, it was so much harder than she ever imagined....and she has been working in hospice care for years. She is the one who is always encouraging me that things will get better. What if she doesn't believe that anymore? It is one of those things that is what it is...her life will keep moving and she will continue seeing people in deep grief while she works this out. I can only imagine the pain of the new role she finds herself in. Still, I feel like I need her. This has been such a hard period for me, these last days of pregnancy and I am just sinking without a lifeboat in sight. Which is why I booked another appointment with a medium......
I found this medium the way I find all other helpers in my new life....total random connections. I attended the afterlife conference, I met a guy there who wrote a book about losing his son (more about him and the book in the future), he told me about a therapist in Washington who helps people to connect to their deceased loved ones, I spoke to her (more about her at some point as well), and she told me about a medium she works with who is a bereaved mother and has connected well over 200 parents with their deceased children over the past year. Sign me up! A medium who understands the pain of this loss - even if her reading was half as good as any of the others who came before her, it wouldn't matter because she would UNDERSTAND. They never understand....and you know I long to be understood. Even the ones who have tried their best to understand, don't. Mediums aren't grief counselors....maybe talking to the dead and bereaved all day numbs them to loss - kind of like working in an ER. Hey, I have worked in settings where the focus was on the Holocaust and the Genocide in Darfur and I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that most of the time, my job was my job. I couldn't attach too deeply or I wouldn't have made it.
Our appointment yesterday was for the early evening. I was anxiously anticipating the call all day. My morning really bummed me out. I spent lunchtime with my friend Amy, which helped to take my mind off the disappointment of the morning. She has had three babies with Dr. D and reminded me that sometimes he says things and they change. I should take everything with a grain of salt. She helped clear the doom from my brain for the moment, which was so helpful in getting me through the day. Anyway, the medium was running a little late, but called me about ten minutes after the official start of our appointment. She started off strong, saying there was a little boy with her, asking if my mom's name is Susan or Suzy, talking about a J name (could be one of our grandfathers or Maxie's middle name), then it all kind of turned mushy. She actually called herself out. She said that just before our call, she had to change the ink in her printer and the machine went crazy and flung ink across her and the room she was in. Then she had to hurry up to get on our call. She was frazzled. Usually she needs to meditate and sage the room before her calls. Listen, what the hell do I know about mediumship? The excuse sounded reasonable to me. I am frazzled by much less than ink flying all over me and the room I am in. She asked if I wanted to reschedule and I said sure, so we decided upon next week. She told me she was so sorry as she knows I am a bereaved parent and that these readings are so important to us. I told her I was so sorry to know that she was also a bereaved parent and that I had read through her blog and was so saddened by her family's loss.
Her son was eleven years old and died in his sleep of Long QT syndrome. She is the one who found him in the morning two years ago. Since most of her appointments "connect" and they talk for an hour about the clients loss and passed loved ones, she probably doesn't hear much compassion from other bereaved parents while doing her work. My comment started a three hour phone call about what "this new life" is like. Literally - three hours. In fact, a little more than that. We talked about the horror of the sudden loss, the PTSD, the various treatments and therapies, the loss of old friendships, the gratefulness for new friendships, the amazing capacity of some to walk with us. We talked about not wanting to be social, about the complexity of grief groups, the inability to move forward, the desire at times to just go be with our boys. Of course, for three hours, I had to be careful not to mention Maxie's name, his age, his cause of death, my pregnancy, and any other details about our life because she is still giving me a reading next week (unless Baby M comes early!!!!!) I found out that she is doing a reading next week for the author I met at the conference. I found out that she went to the medium that did my reading at the conference and had a similar experience with him (side note: many mediums have now told me that THEY go see other mediums when they are in grief. The reasons for this are that they often have a hard time trusting what they receive on their own - they, like me, wonder if they are just hearing what they want to hear and so vulnerable that they will believe or make up whatever they "need" to hear. Also, they find it more validating even when it comes from someone else. Go figure). She explained to me that because she "talks to the dead", people think that she should be fine with her son's death. Only, she doesn't want to be "connecting" to her son through clairvoyancy, she wants to be connecting to him over breakfast at the kitchen counter. She told me that she has been seeking out other parents further down the path than she is and trying to find hope in their journeys. I told her I was doing the same. There were many times when she said, "I haven't told this to anyone else but...." I didn't really do the same, because I want her to tell me that stuff next week, but eventually I will....because I think we are now friends. I am invested in her journey. Even if my reading isn't great, I am sure I'll still want to keep in touch and follow her blog and continue building our friendship.
Sometimes I wonder if these new relationships aren't just as helpful as the actual therapies that I am seeking. Perhaps the connection is more important than the "connection" in some ways. My expectation when attending the afterlife conference was to "find" Maxie, not necessarily to find a group of other moms who had lost children. But, the real treasure in that experience was the other moms, not necessarily the break out sessions and discussions of the afterlife. Maybe what I am really looking for in large part is a deeper connection to other people - people who not only listen to me but share their insight from experience as well. Perhaps this is the "real" grief work. Before this last reading, I told Ted that I have to stop befriending mediums. We start talking about friend stuff and then they forget to look for Maxie for me. So much for that one. :) - and yes, I've just used an emoticon. I feel like the reading is better when they have no idea who I am (which should be incredibly obvious, right?) But, I like to make friends and share life experiences and help other people through this hell. So, I don't know. If I were one of them (the mediums, the spiritual gurus, even our grief counselor), I would say all of these contacts and new relationships are coming into my life for a reason. That they are, in fact, part of my "soul's contract". The more I journey down this path, the more I wonder also if they might be right....for whatever that is worth.
Embrace the randomness
Thursday, July 12, 2012
I cannot embrace the randomness. The doctor told us this morning that my cervix is very posterior and that he really doesn't believe that the baby will come early. We started talking about induction. Obviously, we'd rather not induce next week, when the chances of delivering on the 19-21 would be higher. I guess we wait to the due date. I am just SO uncomfortable and so unhappy and I am missing Maxie with such fierceness. This must be what hell is like. I keep wondering how I got here. And, I KNOW, what I should be saying is, "I am so grateful that the baby is looking good and that he is moving along steadily" and everything else. Somehow there is an expectation that I am supposed to be even MORE grateful for the things that everyone takes for granted, and, I guess I am. But, I sort of resent it. I am just being honest. That is what this space is for...honesty. I want this baby so bad. I wanted him here before the 19th to keep me company during those 3 days. I don't have anything "planned", but it doesn't mean I want to be alone either. I am so sick and tired of being and feeling all alone. I hope that as Baby M grows older, he knows that I will always be there for him. I will never let him feel alone. I will do my best to comfort him and ease his pain and love him with all of my heart. My doctor told me to just try and embrace the randomness. Randomness took away my son, randomness left me with a gaping hole in my heart. I cannot embrace the randomness. My whole body is aching with unknowns.
Decisions
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
We have tried out most of the activities that are rumored to lead to labor: Acupressure points, sex, and walking. Marla told me about a salad dressing at a local restaurant rumored to send women into labor. There seems to be one of these joints in every major city. Ted picked up dinner from there on Sunday night. So far, no dice! But he did buy a full bottle of the dressing and I've been using it every day since, so we'll see. I KNOW I said I wanted the baby to stay inside until 40 weeks, but Dr. D assures me that he is fully developed now and I just want him in my arms. Two more weeks isn't a long time, but for a woman at the end of her pregnancy, it can feels like months. And, since I have been living my life in dog years since last July, 2 weeks feels like an eternity to me.
I am embarrassed to admit that I wish he would come early. After what I have been through, I should wish for nothing more than a delivery that happens exactly when it should be and not a moment too soon. Sometimes, when I feel like I am being selfish, I become kind of resentful that I am not allowed to consider my own needs at all. I feel like since losing Max, I don't really count anymore When Maxie was alive, I always worried about the decisions I made and whether they were selfish or in Max's best interest. I have spent a lot of time this past year wondering what I could have done differently, so that Max would still be here today: The food I made for him, the daycare decision, the formula I had begun supplementing with, sleep training, vaccinations....I could go on and on. These are all things I worried about when he was alive...and then he died...and now I feel guilty basically all of the time. People have asked why I decided not to go on anti-depressants. I met with a psychiatrist in November who told me that there was a "very small chance" (less than 6%) of birth defects that have been found in babies who were born to mothers taking anti-depressants. Less than 6% isn't a small percentage to me. The risk of SIDS is less than 1%...and still my Max is dead. Taking care of myself doesn't feel like an option.
So, now I have all of these decisions to make about Maxie's brother. The same hard decisions - 100 times more loaded this time around. I won't be sending Baby M to daycare. I am grateful that my boss worked with me to create a new position where I can work from home. But, can I leave Baby M even for an hour? I imagine that I wouldn't, but what if a situation comes up and I have to? I don't get the luxury of deciding to make time "for myself". The fact that I went on a bike ride the morning that Max died makes me sick to my stomach. People have suggested anti-depressants for when after the baby gets here - honestly, I would love nothing more. Except, what if something happens to the baby? Would I ever forgive myself? I already know that I wouldn't. I had convinced myself not to vaccinate this time around but then I started hearing about children dying from preventable diseases. So, now I am thinking of an alternate vaccination schedule. Formula? There is a possibility that if Max had the disorder that he hasn't been found to have had, that my breastmilk didn't have enough carbohydrates. But, Max didn't die until after he had started eating solid food and drinking the occasional bottle of formula (with carbs). I don't know. Life has become so much more complicated than I ever imagined.
There is already so much pressure being a parent. So many decisions to make all of the time. People always used to tell me when Max was alive that it was ok to make mistakes - all parents make some mistakes. Only, my child didn't live, so I can't afford to make any mistakes at all. And, what about all those that told me to try and find a balance in my life? So that I didn't completely ignore my own needs. New mothers try to also find time to exercise and run errands. I just feel like these are not options for me. Mostly, I feel like I just can't count this time around. My needs cannot be important - and I am not trying to be a martyr. Like I said, it makes me sad. I wish I could parent without so much fear in my heart. At the same time, I AM looking forward to a lack of downtime (like I said, I wish Baby M was here NOW). I am just so afraid I will make a mistake. I can't afford to make any mistakes. I can't afford to lose focus, even for a minute. I am so scared!
And, still, despite all of this. STILL, I selfishly hope that tonight is the night. I hope that he comes just a wee bit early. I know it goes against everything I just said, but I can't help how I feel. I am still a human being. It seems clear that he won't be coming early and I guess that is good, but is breaking my heart. These last days are dragging out for me and I am back in a really sad, lonely and incredibly uncomfortable place. I can't wait for him to get here and keep me company. Most of all though - I am praying, as always, that once he arrives, I get to parent him for the rest of my life.
And, still, despite all of this. STILL, I selfishly hope that tonight is the night. I hope that he comes just a wee bit early. I know it goes against everything I just said, but I can't help how I feel. I am still a human being. It seems clear that he won't be coming early and I guess that is good, but is breaking my heart. These last days are dragging out for me and I am back in a really sad, lonely and incredibly uncomfortable place. I can't wait for him to get here and keep me company. Most of all though - I am praying, as always, that once he arrives, I get to parent him for the rest of my life.
Anniversaries
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
My dad called me on Sunday to tell me that he had figured out that that day was Maxie's Yarzheit (anniversary of passing or "angel date") according to the Jewish Calendar. We lit a candle that evening to honor the date. As a Jew, I "get" twice the "anniversaries"...the Jewish calendar runs on the lunar year, the secular calendar runs on the solar year (that is why Jewish holidays fall on a different date every year). I already have two dates to dread in the secular calendar - July 19th: the day that Ted and I actually believe that Max's soul left his body (and the day that the nightmare began) and July 21st: the day that we had to take him off life support and have his body die in our arms. My dad asked if we wanted to go to temple with him on Friday night. Temple was not a comfort to me at all on the high holidays. In fact, it was a place that I felt totally betrayed. I am afraid of going back to a house of worship when I am worried that god is mad at me.
I know that hanging on to anniversaries is superficial in some ways. He is gone EVERY day. But, our lives changed forever on those dates. I couldn't get them out of my mind if I tried. An old friend that I worked with long ago lost her husband on 9/11 and had a baby a few days later. I read that just this past year, they held her son's birthday party on 9/11, even though it coincided with the anniversary of her first husband's death. It was time to focus on the living, she said. I don't think it meant that she "forgot", in fact I think it meant she made a conscious choice that probably had as much meaning as focusing rituals on her husband's death would have on that day. It was something that took ten years to happen.
Anniversaries are celebrated for a reason - birthdays, anniversaries of loss, even holidays. We take a time out to celebrate a special life, to remember a particularly tough loss, to honor our parents, to be extra grateful. July 19th should, in our family, be a day to celebrate my mother-in-law - it's her birthday. And, July 20th, that terrible day in between, is my dad's birthday. I apologized to my dad on Sunday that Max's death had to coincide with his special day. I feel so guilty that we will be thinking of our horror and loss on such important and happy occasions. I have no interest in memorializing the anniversary of Maxie's funeral, but that also fell on a few birthdays - my mom's boyfriend, Ken's, and Ted's cousin, Miriam's. I feel guilty knowing that they spent their birthday at a baby's funeral. My baby's funeral. One of my best friends from high school lost her brother on their dad's birthday. He had just gotten off the phone from wishing his dad a Happy Birthday when he got into a fatal car accident. It all just adds insult to injury. I worry about Baby M sharing a birthday with one of these dates. I know there is nothing I can do.
In Israel, on days of remembrance, a loud siren is blasted throughout the entire country. For a full minute, everything stops (especially remarkable in a place like Israel, where people hardly EVER stop). Cars pull over to the side of the road and most people get out of them, people stop pushing and talking to each other, pedestrians stand in place with their heads bowed, phones stop ringing - EVERYTHING stops - for a full minute - because they recognize that even if just for one minute in time, there is nothing else that matters except to remember. So, while every day I am missing Maxie, I do believe there is a point in carving out a time, on the anniversary of a day that changed our lives forever - a day where the world crashed in on us - to just remember. He was our little boy. He meant everything in the world to us. He is now gone. We will miss him eternally.
I know that hanging on to anniversaries is superficial in some ways. He is gone EVERY day. But, our lives changed forever on those dates. I couldn't get them out of my mind if I tried. An old friend that I worked with long ago lost her husband on 9/11 and had a baby a few days later. I read that just this past year, they held her son's birthday party on 9/11, even though it coincided with the anniversary of her first husband's death. It was time to focus on the living, she said. I don't think it meant that she "forgot", in fact I think it meant she made a conscious choice that probably had as much meaning as focusing rituals on her husband's death would have on that day. It was something that took ten years to happen.
Anniversaries are celebrated for a reason - birthdays, anniversaries of loss, even holidays. We take a time out to celebrate a special life, to remember a particularly tough loss, to honor our parents, to be extra grateful. July 19th should, in our family, be a day to celebrate my mother-in-law - it's her birthday. And, July 20th, that terrible day in between, is my dad's birthday. I apologized to my dad on Sunday that Max's death had to coincide with his special day. I feel so guilty that we will be thinking of our horror and loss on such important and happy occasions. I have no interest in memorializing the anniversary of Maxie's funeral, but that also fell on a few birthdays - my mom's boyfriend, Ken's, and Ted's cousin, Miriam's. I feel guilty knowing that they spent their birthday at a baby's funeral. My baby's funeral. One of my best friends from high school lost her brother on their dad's birthday. He had just gotten off the phone from wishing his dad a Happy Birthday when he got into a fatal car accident. It all just adds insult to injury. I worry about Baby M sharing a birthday with one of these dates. I know there is nothing I can do.
In Israel, on days of remembrance, a loud siren is blasted throughout the entire country. For a full minute, everything stops (especially remarkable in a place like Israel, where people hardly EVER stop). Cars pull over to the side of the road and most people get out of them, people stop pushing and talking to each other, pedestrians stand in place with their heads bowed, phones stop ringing - EVERYTHING stops - for a full minute - because they recognize that even if just for one minute in time, there is nothing else that matters except to remember. So, while every day I am missing Maxie, I do believe there is a point in carving out a time, on the anniversary of a day that changed our lives forever - a day where the world crashed in on us - to just remember. He was our little boy. He meant everything in the world to us. He is now gone. We will miss him eternally.
Times
Monday, July 9, 2012
There are times since Maxie's passing that I feel so alone that I cannot believe that there are over 7 billion people living on this planet.
There are times when I feel so completely misunderstood that I wonder why I bother talking.
There are times when I realize more acutely that I will never be with Max again and it feels like my heart has stopped beating - or I wonder why it continues to beat despite this loss.
There are times when I realize that it was MAX, my Max, my most beloved person, that is gone forever...strangely, sometimes I am able to think otherwise.
There are times when I feel like I am just barely holding this together and I wonder how I have even made it this far.
There are times when I wonder how I will make it even one more day.
There are many, many times when I experience all of these things at once.
Right now is one of those times.
There are times when I feel so completely misunderstood that I wonder why I bother talking.
There are times when I realize more acutely that I will never be with Max again and it feels like my heart has stopped beating - or I wonder why it continues to beat despite this loss.
There are times when I realize that it was MAX, my Max, my most beloved person, that is gone forever...strangely, sometimes I am able to think otherwise.
There are times when I feel like I am just barely holding this together and I wonder how I have even made it this far.
There are times when I wonder how I will make it even one more day.
There are many, many times when I experience all of these things at once.
Right now is one of those times.
Love
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Love is a feeling that draws you close to someone else
You want to be beside that love all of the time
You want to protect that person
against hurt, pain, insensitivity, ridicule and shame
You want that person that you love to be happy
To always know that they are loved
To know that they are not alone
To know that they are not alone
You care about the other person at least as much as yourself
Probably more
Your own needs often feel secondary
When you really love someone
Their happiness is your happiness
Their loss is your loss
When you love someone it actually hurts you to see them in pain
Emotional or physical
You would give your life for someone you love
If you really love someone
I mean, REALLY love someone
It is near impossible to continue on without seeing their smile
This is how I love my boys
Ted, Max and Baby M
This is what I believe it means to love
When you really love someone
Their happiness is your happiness
Their loss is your loss
When you love someone it actually hurts you to see them in pain
Emotional or physical
You would give your life for someone you love
If you really love someone
I mean, REALLY love someone
It is near impossible to continue on without seeing their smile
This is how I love my boys
Ted, Max and Baby M
This is what I believe it means to love
Still pregnant
Saturday, July 7, 2012
I have plans with my friend Marla tomorrow morning so today is the day for Ted and I to get out. I asked him this morning what he wanted to do today. His response, "Let's go have an adventure so that you can blog about it". I think he is making fun of me a little bit. Truth is, we really HOPED that our activity this weekend would be having a baby. We are so eager for Baby M to get here. It has been a really long pregnancy. As long as most peoples, I know, but somehow it has felt SO MUCH longer than my pregnancy with Max. Perhaps because with Max, we were newlyweds, enjoying our new home, and traveling a lot: I went to Costa Rica with my cousin Sharon in my fourth month, Ted and I went to Greece on our belated honeymoon in the fifth month, and we went to Mexico City to visit Sharon and her family in the sixth. We had lots of fun weekend adventures too. Generally, we were two super happy people looking forward to welcoming a new addition. Now, it feels like our lives depend on this little guy. We want him here so badly. We want to be parents again YESTERDAY! We are running out of field trip distractions. We want to be kept busy with taking care of our new baby. Also, Teddy likes today's date for Baby M's arrival: 7-7-12. If Baby M doesn't come today, Ted says I have to wait for 7-12-12. (He is teasing of course) but I don't want to wait another 5 days! Plus, I have an important reading with a medium I have a good feeling about that day. (Between Ted's numbers and my mediums - can you tell we are searching for our little boy and for answers? Go ahead and judge - but try and remember that you have not walked in our shoes). I will say this - Courtney (friend and doula) is in France and our geneticist is also on vacation (though, as far as the birth is concerned, Courtney's presence is more important to me than the geneticists. He didn't promise us foot massages - she did. Also, we have a back up geneticist, we don't have a backup Courtney). So, at least if Baby M doesn't come this weekend, our "team" should be back in place when he does. But, I am getting more uncomfortable physically every day. Now I am all itchy all over my stomach - because that's what happens when your stomach keeps growing larger at a rapid pace I guess. I have so much sadness leading up to Maxie's Yahrzeit (or "angel day" for the non-Jews). I've been crying by myself much more lately....late into the night. That familiar feeling of hopelessness attacks me with full force throughout my days. My OB has a pretty good sense of humor (if dirty jokes offend you, please cover your eyes here). He told me at my last appointment that if I really wanted the baby to come quickly, I should walk home from the hospital and have sex with as many people as I could on the way home (exercise and sex are both thought to help with the onset of labor). "I don't think that is your style though...", he added with a dorky grin. All of my friends who see Dr. D will understand why that joke is not at all offensive coming from him. He couldn't be more inoffensive really. He is really quite wonderful. I am thinking however that a long walk and a romantic evening at home might be the field trip for the day? Too bad I can't walk for longer than about ten minutes without needing to use the bathroom. SEXY! Here's the point: we cannot wait for you to get here, Baby M! We are missing you, Maxie, with every breath we take. We are caught between loss and rebirth and we are anxious for the next chapter to begin....never, ever forgetting our first love. Not ever. I think we both agree though that there would be something sort of comforting about M being here before the 19th. It's going to be such a hard day, it would be nice to already be holding our little bundle in our arms.
Feeling
Friday, July 6, 2012
I am so tired of struggling with all of these feelings
I don't want to FEEL anymore
I don't want to feel sad or depressed or scared or anxious or in pain
I don't want to feel disappointed or hurt or lonely or angry
I don't even want to feel "happy" or "love" or "joy"
(all three of those emotions betray me daily)
I just want to stop FEELING
How can I stop all of this FEELING?
I don't want to struggle anymore
There is no end in sight
All I want to feel is tired
So I can go back to sleep
I don't want to FEEL anymore
I don't want to feel sad or depressed or scared or anxious or in pain
I don't want to feel disappointed or hurt or lonely or angry
I don't even want to feel "happy" or "love" or "joy"
(all three of those emotions betray me daily)
I just want to stop FEELING
How can I stop all of this FEELING?
I don't want to struggle anymore
There is no end in sight
All I want to feel is tired
So I can go back to sleep
July
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Last year on the fourth of July, we had a few friends over. I think about 6 people all together. We barbequed, played with Max, had lots of laughs. Obviously we had no idea that a count down had begun...that we would only have 2 weeks left with our baby. The events of the last two weeks of Maxie's life are so clear in my mind. We spent lots of time with friends and family. Pretty soon, I won't be able to remember Maxie in any memories when I talk about "this time last year". It hurts. A lot.
I am so sad without Max. I am trying so hard to be "myself" but his absence glares at me from all directions. I really try to focus on everything else : the new baby, how he could arrive any day, work, friends, field trips, anything! I work so hard that it breaks me. I find myself falling to pieces easily. Sometimes for minutes at a time, sometimes for hours. I am so scared of this life that I am living. I am so scared of continuing to live a life of sorrow. I had everything. To go from there to here - I am having trouble making sense of it all.
And, I feel like my life revolves around these dates: (Maxie's incident - July 19th, Maxie's death - July 21st, Maxie's funeral - July 26th, Maxie's Birthday - October 7th). How soon are they coming? What will we do (if anything at all)? How close to one of these dates will Baby M be born? How will I make sense of that?
Baby M is wiggling around a lot inside of me. He could get here any day. The timing of these events makes my head spin. I am in as much pain as ever from losing Max - missing him wildly and painfully and uncomfortably. There is so much unrest in my heart and it makes me anxious and sad. My body is beyond uncomfortable with the end of pregnancy. I can't sit for long, can't stand for long, can't figure out how to sleep. I feel like I am carrying around a 100-pound weight belt with every step I take. There seems to be no relief - emotionally or physically from any of this. But, I am hanging in there - hoping that Baby M's birth brings some physical relief (even though I remember that there is a whole new bag of physical strain that comes with recovery from birth), and some emotional relief (I will never have Max back but at least Ted and I can be parents again and get to know this new precious soul). I am bracing myself for the hard dates, hoping that I can find meaning in the days and keep breathing through them. July is going to continue to be hard. I have been anticipating this for a while.
I am so sad without Max. I am trying so hard to be "myself" but his absence glares at me from all directions. I really try to focus on everything else : the new baby, how he could arrive any day, work, friends, field trips, anything! I work so hard that it breaks me. I find myself falling to pieces easily. Sometimes for minutes at a time, sometimes for hours. I am so scared of this life that I am living. I am so scared of continuing to live a life of sorrow. I had everything. To go from there to here - I am having trouble making sense of it all.
And, I feel like my life revolves around these dates: (Maxie's incident - July 19th, Maxie's death - July 21st, Maxie's funeral - July 26th, Maxie's Birthday - October 7th). How soon are they coming? What will we do (if anything at all)? How close to one of these dates will Baby M be born? How will I make sense of that?
Baby M is wiggling around a lot inside of me. He could get here any day. The timing of these events makes my head spin. I am in as much pain as ever from losing Max - missing him wildly and painfully and uncomfortably. There is so much unrest in my heart and it makes me anxious and sad. My body is beyond uncomfortable with the end of pregnancy. I can't sit for long, can't stand for long, can't figure out how to sleep. I feel like I am carrying around a 100-pound weight belt with every step I take. There seems to be no relief - emotionally or physically from any of this. But, I am hanging in there - hoping that Baby M's birth brings some physical relief (even though I remember that there is a whole new bag of physical strain that comes with recovery from birth), and some emotional relief (I will never have Max back but at least Ted and I can be parents again and get to know this new precious soul). I am bracing myself for the hard dates, hoping that I can find meaning in the days and keep breathing through them. July is going to continue to be hard. I have been anticipating this for a while.
More Bath Time
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
I've mentioned - giving Max a bath was a favorite activity for both Ted and I. There is nothing better than doing something for your child that he/she enjoys most. If his favorite thing had been eating, I am sure my favorite thing would have been feeding him (I DID love feeding him too, by the way). Baths didn't start off so relaxing for Maxie. In fact, they were somewhat stressful.
But, around two months, bath time became Maxie's absolute favorite time. He liked warm water and wash cloths and getting kissed and having so much attention paid to him. He smiled and wiggled and squeaked with glee. He splashed and splashed and loved every minute of the ritual. Baby Maxie baths were the highlight of every day for me. I rushed home, anticipating the fun we'd have.
I miss those moments most of all. We bathed Maxie on our kitchen counter in his Fisher Price Whale tub (a hand-me-down from Marla's daughter Ella). Ted put sky lights in our kitchen and Max would sometimes sit in the bath, super relaxed and smile at the trees moving in the breeze. I wonder now if he saw something I didn't see. These days, I often stare at the empty counter space for long periods of time, feeling empty sorrow wash over my whole soul. What I wouldn't give for one more bath.
My mom bought a new bathtub for Baby M. It's a rainforest bath and it has different stages for a growing baby. I think it is probably a good idea to start fresh with a new bathtub. So many of the memories I have with Max still feel so painful and raw. I worry about forgetting but then I also worry that starting all over with a new baby will bring those memories to the surface and bring back the acute early pain. We used to keep Maxie's bath in the big bath in Maxie's bathroom. After he died, I couldn't go into that bathroom unless the shower curtain was closed. If I could see the blue bath peeking out at me, my chest hurt. A new bathtub might help. Or will it? Or would keeping the rituals the same help? I have mixed feelings about initiating new routines with a new little dude. He will be his own person though and so new, in his case, will be good, I think. Will anything help? Will a new baby help, for example? Max was SO special. The answer to all of my prayers in too many ways to explain here. He saved my soul - not that I even knew it needed saving until he arrived on the scene. I cannot expect Baby M to save this soul. THIS soul isn't even fully here anymore. THIS soul is already partly dead.
It's getting close - time to start creating new memories - while both trying to hold tight to the old ones AND keep a distance from them to protect myself. Will Baby M love baths like Max? Or will there be something else that brings the look of pure contentment to his face? Will his presence cause me to forget all that was lovely and perfect and special about my first love, Maxie? Oh god I hope not. If I could ask for one wish (other than bringing Max back to me), it would be that I am able to keep Max alive in my heart and mind for all of my years to come. That his favorite things continue to be fresh in my mind and heart. That he always stays with me strongly and that my love for him never fades even one ounce.
Maxie - still counting down the days until we can be together again. Mommy misses you SO.......
Emotee cons
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Teddy asked me to write a post about emoticons...because he hates them. Teddy really never asks me to post about anything but lately, people have been pissing Ted off. Things that have been hurting me all along are starting to hurt him too. He has a thick skin but it is starting to wear a little thinner. While he used to make excuses all of the time for other people's poor behavior, as time has worn on, it is getting harder to excuse the insensitive comments of some of the people that he interacts with. What has been driving him a little crazy in the past few weeks are the insensitive or downright offensive emails and texts he has received with happy or sad face emoticons stuck at the end of the offensive line. Somehow people think that the "emotee" makes the comment ok. If you don't have anything nice to say - don't say anything at all. Offensive and/or insensitive messages are still offensive and insensitive - even when you stick a colon and parenthesis at the end of the message :)
The challenge in writing this post is in not telling you what was "said" to Ted in these texts and emails. When someone says something hurtful to me, I just write it here. I figure that the offender probably knows that they have offended and if they don't know it, they should. In my mind, it isn't like I am actually selling anyone out. You don't know who I am talking about. I don't use anyone's name or anything (even though sometimes it practically kills me not to). The only one that knows I am talking about them IS the person I am talking about. Kind of passive aggressive I know, but better than having to get "into it" with every insensitive shmo. Ted would rather I not spell out the offenses though. He still wants to protect people who haven't bothered to be protective of him. I can see he is starting to crack though so if I were you, I'd watch it.
I think Ted and I can both agree that there is a time and place for most things. I've certainly had a good laugh from a well placed "ironic" smiley face - for example, "Digging your skinny jeans :)". And, using an emoticon to emphasize a point is also fine in my book - as in "I spent the whole night crying :(". But, unless you are a 12-14 year old girl, you should probably know that an emoticon shouldn't actually take the place of expressing a real emotion. And for that matter - neither should making an actual sad face (lip curled over, head cocked to one side, hands in fists wiping away tears that aren't being cried). And for another matter - neither does writing out an emotive action, like ((HUGS)) or (tears). And, lastly, if you write something totally sh*tty, you can't make it better by putting a winkie at the end of it ;). Again, use them to emphasize a point (if you must) but for some reason reading "I want to give you a big hug right now" feels a lot more sincere than ((HUGS)). I have always believed a good "I am laughing so hard, I am peeing in my pants" more than a "LOL". I mean, are you really laughing out loud, or are you just sitting there zoned out, staring at your screen and writing an obligatory "LOL"? Which is it?
Here is what I guess I am saying, and really, what I have been saying all along - Use your words. Be authentic. Just give it a try. Stop using syntax to emote. I mean, have we really become THAT lazy? It's a short cut and it feels as icky to be on the receiving end as it does to hear one of those stupid "well-meaning" platitudes: "He's in a better place now", "You can always have more children" "God needed another angel". One of these days I'll stop being so preachy - promise. Today is just not one of those days.
Ted - not so sure if I did your sentiment justice but I gave it a shot....((hugs)) ;)
The challenge in writing this post is in not telling you what was "said" to Ted in these texts and emails. When someone says something hurtful to me, I just write it here. I figure that the offender probably knows that they have offended and if they don't know it, they should. In my mind, it isn't like I am actually selling anyone out. You don't know who I am talking about. I don't use anyone's name or anything (even though sometimes it practically kills me not to). The only one that knows I am talking about them IS the person I am talking about. Kind of passive aggressive I know, but better than having to get "into it" with every insensitive shmo. Ted would rather I not spell out the offenses though. He still wants to protect people who haven't bothered to be protective of him. I can see he is starting to crack though so if I were you, I'd watch it.
I think Ted and I can both agree that there is a time and place for most things. I've certainly had a good laugh from a well placed "ironic" smiley face - for example, "Digging your skinny jeans :)". And, using an emoticon to emphasize a point is also fine in my book - as in "I spent the whole night crying :(". But, unless you are a 12-14 year old girl, you should probably know that an emoticon shouldn't actually take the place of expressing a real emotion. And for that matter - neither should making an actual sad face (lip curled over, head cocked to one side, hands in fists wiping away tears that aren't being cried). And for another matter - neither does writing out an emotive action, like ((HUGS)) or (tears). And, lastly, if you write something totally sh*tty, you can't make it better by putting a winkie at the end of it ;). Again, use them to emphasize a point (if you must) but for some reason reading "I want to give you a big hug right now" feels a lot more sincere than ((HUGS)). I have always believed a good "I am laughing so hard, I am peeing in my pants" more than a "LOL". I mean, are you really laughing out loud, or are you just sitting there zoned out, staring at your screen and writing an obligatory "LOL"? Which is it?
Here is what I guess I am saying, and really, what I have been saying all along - Use your words. Be authentic. Just give it a try. Stop using syntax to emote. I mean, have we really become THAT lazy? It's a short cut and it feels as icky to be on the receiving end as it does to hear one of those stupid "well-meaning" platitudes: "He's in a better place now", "You can always have more children" "God needed another angel". One of these days I'll stop being so preachy - promise. Today is just not one of those days.
Ted - not so sure if I did your sentiment justice but I gave it a shot....((hugs)) ;)
Dim Sum Sunday
Monday, July 2, 2012
In the keeping with the new Sunday tradition of keeping ourselves busy until Baby M gets here, Teddy and I took a little trip to Chinatown yesterday. Ted had never had a real banquet style dim sum experience so we figured now was the time (or, rather, I figured that).
I am not sure that food outings are appropriate any longer at this stage in my pregnancy. Saturday, I spent the day with Suzy. We stopped for a Slurpee on our way home in the afternoon and I got called "Fatso" by a drunk with an enormous grin (he was REAL proud of himself for coming up with that one). He got super close and was seriously about start manhandling my baby bump. Suzy worried she'd have to step in to manage the situation. Yesterday, in Chinatown, a guy we had just seen fishing a menu out a trash can called after me "Hey Big Ma'am!" Ted told him to screw off. He was ready to throw down to protect my honor. But, listen, I totally get it. People can't help themselves.
I think I have pushed the pregnant limits. I am about as big as I ever got with Max during my pregnancy, but remember - I delivered him at 36 and a half weeks - exactly how far along I am right now. And this kid is constantly moving and pushing downwards. Eating a bunch of dim sum isn't helping with the limited space I have for everything that is going on inside of me.
Here are a few shots of our lunch. Since we don't eat chicken feet, much beef or any pork, our options were limited. But, it is about the experience, not the food, right? I still managed to eat an entire plate of chicken wings - delicious!
On our way out we saw a gigantic and beautiful live orange fish get bagged out of a tank for someone's lunch. It made us a little sad. In case we are still pregnant next week, we are looking for good Sunday field trip recommendations. Can you help us out? We are running out of pregnant-friendly ideas.
PS - I am not sure why, but not all of your comments are getting posted - even though I can see them all on the back end. Most are, but some are falling through the cracks, even though I have approved them. Sorry about that. I hope to get to the bottom of it soon.
I am not sure that food outings are appropriate any longer at this stage in my pregnancy. Saturday, I spent the day with Suzy. We stopped for a Slurpee on our way home in the afternoon and I got called "Fatso" by a drunk with an enormous grin (he was REAL proud of himself for coming up with that one). He got super close and was seriously about start manhandling my baby bump. Suzy worried she'd have to step in to manage the situation. Yesterday, in Chinatown, a guy we had just seen fishing a menu out a trash can called after me "Hey Big Ma'am!" Ted told him to screw off. He was ready to throw down to protect my honor. But, listen, I totally get it. People can't help themselves.
I think I have pushed the pregnant limits. I am about as big as I ever got with Max during my pregnancy, but remember - I delivered him at 36 and a half weeks - exactly how far along I am right now. And this kid is constantly moving and pushing downwards. Eating a bunch of dim sum isn't helping with the limited space I have for everything that is going on inside of me.
Here are a few shots of our lunch. Since we don't eat chicken feet, much beef or any pork, our options were limited. But, it is about the experience, not the food, right? I still managed to eat an entire plate of chicken wings - delicious!
On our way out we saw a gigantic and beautiful live orange fish get bagged out of a tank for someone's lunch. It made us a little sad. In case we are still pregnant next week, we are looking for good Sunday field trip recommendations. Can you help us out? We are running out of pregnant-friendly ideas.
PS - I am not sure why, but not all of your comments are getting posted - even though I can see them all on the back end. Most are, but some are falling through the cracks, even though I have approved them. Sorry about that. I hope to get to the bottom of it soon.
You wouldn't grieve like me
Sunday, July 1, 2012
You would be the "noble griever"
You would hold your head high,
accepting that sometimes there are no explanations
You would keep your chin up
You would know that everything happens for a reason
You wouldn't feel like a victim
You wouldn't cry, because he wouldn't have wanted you to
You would put one foot in front of the other
You would recognize that you can always have other children
You would still see the world as a beautiful place
where anything is possible
You would focus on everything that is good in your life still
You would make the best of a tough situation
Would you?
Call me when your child dies
I am sure I will learn by watching your example...
You would hold your head high,
accepting that sometimes there are no explanations
You would keep your chin up
You would know that everything happens for a reason
You wouldn't feel like a victim
You wouldn't cry, because he wouldn't have wanted you to
You would put one foot in front of the other
You would recognize that you can always have other children
You would still see the world as a beautiful place
where anything is possible
You would focus on everything that is good in your life still
You would make the best of a tough situation
Would you?
Call me when your child dies
I am sure I will learn by watching your example...
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