FURIOUS

One of the emotions that I feel every single day at some point is complete rage.  I usually don't let it last for more than a few minutes and it always just creeps up on me and smacks me in the face.  Either I will see an email in my work inbox from a certain person, or I will hear their name in conversation, or I will think about a time in the future where I will have to see them.  There are certain interactions that I had since Max died, that if I think about at all - all I feel is FURY!  I often fantasize about telling you exactly what was said and by whom so that you might feel a bit of rage towards these people as well.  Sometimes I want them to be outcast and treated like dirt, the way they treated me like dirt when my baby died.  But, then I don't sell them out because 1) one of them already called the cops on me for something I posted on this blog that they found threatening, just truly wasn't....in fact, you can read it yourself by clicking here and 2) It wouldn't really get me anywhere.  It would just be a way to try and hurt them as much as they hurt me.  There are about ten of these people whose actions stand out to me...that are a heavy part of my PTSD...that I can hardly stand thinking about.  When their actions or words cross my mind at all, I literally have to shake them off and force myself to think about something else.  If I think about these people at all, I get completely worked up so much so that my whole body shakes.  The truth is that MOST people in our lives have done their very best.  Most people, even if they have accidentally hurt my feelings, even if it has happened more than once - I know that it has been an accident.  But, these ten or so people - I almost wonder if they have gone out of their way somehow to hurt me.  None of these people I am talking about has lost a child.  All of these people in fact have living, healthy children (except two - who will likely one day have children, just don't yet).  I worry about the next time I will see one of them - will I run into them in the market or somehow have to interact with them for work or see them at a family function?  What will I say?  Will I confront them?  Will I just smile and pretend like I have forgotten the horrible way that they treated me and/or Ted in our most devastated and vulnerable hours?  Until then, I just try to shove the feelings down as much as possible and change my thoughts to something else when I can.  I don't have a huge selection of positive things to turn my thoughts to since Max died and I can't just think about Mo only all of my waking hours but, still, I try not to think of these people because it just gets me angry.  I am trying really hard to be as positive as possible.  I am trying really hard to be a pillar of strength and move on with my life as positively as possible.  Still, I can't help but wonder and feel enraged!  How can people be so insensitive and cruel?  What is wrong with people? And, what makes me even more mad is that MOST of these people are people that I have gone out of my way to support!  People that I have defended, and praised and gone to bat for time and time again.

Whether or not I had ever lost Max, I would NEVER, EVER treat someone else the way that these people have treated us.  NEVER!  To treat a person going through hell with anything less than compassion is despicable.  I have never felt so much rage in my whole life as I have since Max died.  What I feel most furious about though is that Max, is gone.  I am just totally effing out of my mind FURIOUS about it.  So, I leave you with that as I face yet another day of this "new normal" NIGHTMARE of mine: my life without Max!

Zzzzzzz

My maternity leaves ends next week.  So, today I am going to do what I won't be able to do for much longer.....sleep when the baby sleeps.

Twelve Weeks

Mo is twelve weeks old today!  I can't believe how quickly time is moving again.  I am saving his three month photo for the 23rd of the month but in the meantime, let me tell you a little about Mo.  He is a SUPER BABY.... He had a tooth coming in starting a couple of weeks ago.  He is busting out of his three month clothing and in fact, we are going through the six month stuff today for him.  He is officially in a size 3 diaper.  He is 14.14 pounds heavy.  He smiles a lot and he "talks".  We can't wait for him to have actual words one day because it seems like he has a lot to say.  Perhaps stories of his adventures with Maxie before he got here.  Gigi (Ted's mom) was here last week and brought us our new favorite toy.  Mo loves to play with it!

Loves of my life

Love

When you are growing up, you hopefully know the meaning of love from your family.  Under the best circumstances you should have parents (at least one) that love you unconditionally.  As you age, there are battles and disagreements but the love is still unconditional.  Same with siblings, although there are often rivalries and jealousies...you still know that you love them no matter what.  Maybe if you are really lucky, you also have grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins who love you so much.

Then you make friends.  Friends have no obligation to love you.  Usually there is a reason that they love you - either you are funny, or popular, or you have a car, or you are neighbors with the guy they like, or you are smart, or something.  They don't just love you because you exist, like your family does.  They love you for a reason.  When you cease to have the quality that they fell in love with - will they still love you?  People always say that it is when times get really tough that you see who your real friends are.  By "real", I assume they mean those people who love you "unconditionally".  They are under no obligation (unlike your parents) to love you unconditionally.  If you are no longer funny, and that 's what they loved you for, they may not love you anymore.  That is a fact.  What people always say about the real friends showing up when times are tough is true.  Believe me.  It isn't that the other people didn't love you.  They just didn't love you unconditionally.  Fine.

Then there is romantic love - I think one of the things that is so exciting about romantic love is that it is completely new when it shows up.  Even the puppy love kind of romantic love.  You never had it with anyone before - not your parents or your family or your friends.  You don't just love the person because you are obligated (the way you might love a cousin or something), or because they have some qualities you like (like a new friend) - you sort of feel like you love everything about them - even stuff that you might find hideously disgusting in someone else.

I've been "in love" three times.  I've been in "puppy love" at least 30.  The first time I fell in love, I was studying abroad in Israel.  I loved Israeli boys.  I love Israelis in general, so it makes sense that they would really be my ideal.  They are strong and dark, and handsome and Jewish!  You'd think my first love was an Israeli...but it wasn't.  My first love was a German that I met in Israel - ironic, isn't it?  He was blonde and blue eyed and not at all good for me.  His personality was funny and he was charismatic but it was also chaotic and a little dark.  It scared me how much I liked him.  It didn't last long.  My heart was broken though I can't say he broke my heart.  I pretty much knew it would end that way as soon as it started.  He moves around a lot.  It was over before it started.  Last I heard, he was living in Cairo.  I don't even know if I would make his list of "great loves".  I'm pretty sure I don't.  First love often ends with a broken heart.  You throw yourself in completely, even when you know it won't last.  You've never had your heart broken before so you don't know how much it is going to hurt.

The second time I fell in love I was still young.  We were the best of friends.  We made each other laugh.  We liked each others friends.  We wanted similar things in life.  It felt safe.  I remember thinking how lucky I was that I would end up with a lifetime with only one broken heart.  We got engaged.  Then he got cold feet.  We broke off the engagement two months before the wedding.  I didn't see it coming.  It scared the hell out of me.  I was heartbroken.  The deep, penetrating heartbreak lasted for at least a year.  After that, I figured I was no good at love.  I gave it up for a long time.  Six years in fact.  I dated, but I had very little expectation that I would meet someone who would be right for me.  I was guarded with everyone.  Sometimes it made me really sad, sometimes I didn't really care that much.  Never, ever did I expect to meet someone like my husband.

When I met him, I told him that I didn't want to get emotionally invested in him.  The pain of the two previous heartbreaks was not something that I wanted to have to go through again.  Eventually, I invested....but not until I was fairly certain that it was safe.  I gave myself to him very incrementally....dipping each toe in the water before diving in.  Eventually, there wasn't much I could do about it.  I was madly in love and knew that the risk I was taking with my heart would be worth it if we might be able to spend our lives together.  The love I feel for him puts all of the loves and puppy loves to shame.  In many ways, he is really my FIRST love because what I share with him is something that I have never shared with anyone.  He makes me laugh, he loves the things I love, I love his friends, I love his company, we have chemistry!  This is it!  I've written a lot about my love for Ted.  It's the real thing and sometimes THAT scares me.  In some ways, I am still protecting myself.  Always just a little scared that he will leave me and I'll never find love like this again.  I was single for six years - I know how hard it is to find someone who you feel like this about.  It's next to impossible.  I've still got my guard up a little.  He knows it too.  I don't think romantic love gets much better than this...so I have to protect myself.

If someone were to ask me about whether I'd ever been in love, those were the stories that they would likely be asking about.  But my three loves are actually a different list...but not altogether.  You know where I am going with this...right?

My list does include Ted....the romantic love of my life.  But there are two loves that come after him.  Next is Max!  Our love was more extreme, more unconditional, more intense, more perfect than any other love that EVER came before.  There is nothing at all that even compares.  The love that a mother feels for their child forces romantic love into a different and somewhat lesser category.  It has something to do with knowing that you are responsible for their life, for their well being, for their very existence.  You know that no matter what this person ever did, your love for them would continue to grow.  I loved his spit ups and poopy diapers and his squished up face when he cried.  I loved his mannerisms, his smell, the way his head shook a little when he tried to hold it up.  I loved that he loved baths, and yams, and his daddy.  I loved that he loved me.  And, there was nothing at all to be scared of.  He was mine!  We loved each other unconditionally. I KNEW he would be there for the rest of my life.  There was nothing to be scared of.  I gave myself to him entirely.  The only person I had done this with ever.

And then he died.

The one person who I knew I would never ever lose....I lost.  And my heart is more broken than I ever imagined possible.  There are a million pieces lying around and I know I will never be able to pick them all up.  I pick up a few, and other ones fall again.  I am in a lifelong juggle.  It never ends.  I am telling you that when I think about the other "heartbreaks" I have endured, they feel like nothing...and I can't even believe that I shed even one tear.  Nothing....NOTHING...comes close.  This heartbreak puts the other heartbreaks to shame.  So much so, that I am embarrassed that my heart ever hurt before.  But, I didn't know any better.  I thought it would be the worst pain I would ever suffer...and it was nothing.  And, I'm going to be honest: I really didn't think I would emotionally invest again.  I didn't want to.  Still don't.

When I was pregnant with Mo, I knew I would love him.  I just knew I wouldn't love him as much as Max.  Several times a day, I said "I can't go through this again".  After one particularly dark visit to our geneticist, I repeated over and over for probably an hour - "If the baby dies, I die.  If the baby dies, I die.  If the baby dies, I die".  I felt it (and feel it still) so strongly that I promised that I would not let myself love anyone as much as I loved Max ever again.  Other parents (who haven't lost children) compared it to their experience saying, "When I was pregnant with my second child, I knew I wouldn't love him/her as much as my first.  It wasn't possible."  So, yes, it is "the same"...except that in my case, my baby died!  He died!  My heart was barely beating anymore.  Just getting out of bed every day exhausted me.  I have cried every day for more than a year.  For the first eight months, I cried more than I didn't cry.  Can we please agree that it isn't the same?  Please?

But, here I am again.  I love Mo so much it makes me wild and crazy.   I love that he gets agitated when he is about to spit up, I love the sound of his cry and I even loved his baby acne.  I love his smile and the funny noises he makes (his favorite is crying "AY"  as in "Ay caramba" when he is feeling distressed.  I love the way he smells, I love his big blue eyes, I love how I have learned what all of his moods and sounds and temperaments mean.  Oh my lord - I LOVE how he is happiest when he is sitting up like a big boy on the couch.  I love that we communicate without words and that when he looks deep into my eyes, I know that he is telling me, "I love you momma", and I always answer, "I love you too baby!"  I genuinely feel that if anything happened to him, I would die.  My heart would stop...or at least I wish it would...as I wished it would after Max died...as I still sometimes wish it would because at least half of my heart left my body when Max left this world.

I really thought that in part, the love I felt....the love I feel as a mommy was more unconditional than any other love because there seemed to be so little risk.  I thought that part of what enabled me to invest so deeply in this love was knowing that it wasn't going anywhere.  But, Max is gone, and still my love for him grows every day.  I still find myself analyzing and reanalyzing what made our love so unique.  I still find my heart soaring with pride and joy that he was ours, that we even had those precious nine and a half months with him.  Whether he is here or not, doesn't affect my love even one little bit.  The love didn't die....only he did.  And though I am scared out of my mind, I am investing and invested in my little Mo.  I've opened my heart to him completely, KNOWING that I could lose him.  But the chance that I might get to spend the rest of my life with him will be worth the risk of having my heart broken again.  And though I am describing our love as though it is something that I could even control if I wanted to, the truth is that my love for him is completely out of my control.  To protect myself, I sometimes wish I could stop it.  I wish I could love him a little less.  I wish my whole existence didn't depend on his continuing breath.  But it does. And, it is exactly THAT which makes THIS love different than any other love that came before it.  The complete selflessness.  I love him madly despite my fear.  I love him KNOWING that it isn't a given that he will be around forever.  He is as more of a risk to my heart than any other love that came before him.  It turns out that the special love I feel for Max and Mo has nothing to do with the risk.  So I am not protecting myself.  I wish I could, but I can't.  And, just knowing that there is a chance that he will live...it is the most wonderful feeling in the world.  I might see this boy grow up!  We might celebrate birthdays and graduations and even a wedding or grandchild.  We will....we must!  Anyway, I have no protection.  I am deeply invested in this guy.  More love than imaginable.  He has my heart.

I have had three real loves so far - Teddy, Maxie and Mo.  I couldn't protect myself from these boys if I tried.  I will love each of them for a lifetime.  My love for all three continues to grow each day.  I know that anything is possible.  I could lose Ted, but most of the time, I try not to worry about it.  I love him despite knowing how much damage losing him could do to me.  I adore Max.  I cannot and will not leave him behind.  I continue to invest in him every single day.  I learned from him the meaning of love at first sight and actual heartbreak.  I miss him and long for him more and more with each day that passes without him.  How I am still breathing is not even something I understand.  I am glad I am still here though... because of Mo.  Mo is my healer...the one who came to save me from myself... the one who showed me that there can be light again, even in a dark dark tunnel.  The one who I thank god every night for giving me one more day with.

These boys are my three great loves.  Just to have had the opportunity to love these boys and have that love returned is beyond special.  More than I could have ever imagined in a lifetime.  I am a lucky girl.

Sleeper

Guess who slept through the night twice this week?

Guess who didn't?  Me.  I'm thinking I might start wearing a diaper to bed too.

The walking dead

I've been extra sad this week.  I'm not sure you would know it if you spent time with me.  I've gotten pretty good at acting "normal".  Something about this deep sadness though makes it nearly impossible for me to concentrate on anything for more than a couple of minutes.  This was how I felt all last year - together with totally not acting normal, deep depression, complete exhaustion, and deep dark thoughts about the meaning (or rather, lack of meaning) of life - that other stuff is still there but the Zoloft seems to have dissipated it somewhat.  When I feel this kind of sadness, I am searching constantly for the thing that is going to calm my soul.  I am currently reading about 4 books, they are all on my iphone kindle and I flip back and forth through them all day long.  I think maybe television will help divert my attention but it is all so vapid, I can't handle it.  Mo does a pretty good job of keeping me occupied, but then he goes to sleep and I am back in the sadness again.

I've got a few things on my calendar that I am looking forward to that I hope will help.  My friend from Israel, Ofir, is coming to California for work in a couple of weeks.  We have been friends for almost 20 years and his family is like my family so I am looking forward to visiting with him and introducing him to Mo.  I am going to a conference with my aunt for a day in Pasadena in a few weeks.  It isn't an afterlife conference, but the medium (John Holland) who was at our afterlife conference will be there and that should be exciting.  In fact, that's pretty much the reason I am going.  Ted has to babysit that day, all day, so we are working on getting Mo to take a bottle.  He really has no idea what to do with it most of the time unless I am the one giving it to him....which sort of defeats the purpose.  Also, Ted and I are going to Seattle to visit our friends Eowyn and Greg, and Kyle and Mandy for my birthday at the beginning of November.  It is good to be able to look forward to things again but nearly impossible to look much further than next month - although yesterday, I did send Greg a text telling him that I might be up for Passover again this year with a few changes in the guest list.  We'll see about it.  He's not holding me to it.  I am learning to live with this soul crushing sadness and it sort of scares me to even know that it is possible to live with this much pain...to go through my days interacting with people as though my insides are not totally dead and ashy.  It makes me wonder how many other people I encounter are walking around like me.

Nightmares

Every night for the past week, I have had terrible nightmares.  Every single one of those nights, I have had multiple terrible nightmares.  They are the same dreams that I had right after Max died and then sporadically throughout last year.  In the dreams, I lose Max.  I misplace him, or he runs away, or his carseat goes missing with him in it.....or one million other scenarios.  Throughout the dream, I am panicked that I can't find my little boy.  Most of the time, I end up finding him - about to be killed or cooked or hung or something out of this world terrible.  Then I save him and hug him and kiss and him and cry.  Then I wake up and remember that I've actually lost Max - that I didn't save him and that there is no hope of saving him.  That he is gone forever and I will never see him again in this life. I am not sure how the brain processes information exactly but I can hardly take much more of it.  I spend much of my mornings, and the periods where I am awake nursing Mo, reliving the painful dreams and then trying to make sense of the fact that my reality is actually worse.  It's all a complete nightmare.

Halloween 2012

Halloween 2011 was pretty much one of the most terrible days of my life.  I spent most of it crying in bed with the lights off.  Halloween 2012 is going to be different because I LOVE Halloween, and more importantly, because MO IS HERE!  There will be jack o'lanterns, candy, horror movies, kids knocking on our door and a baby costume!  There were two costumes in the running.

He is a much more contented cow than Kermit, agreed?

Lessons

I spent most of the day in deep reflection on Sunday.  Reflection on Maxie's life and the lessons of his death.  How unprepared we were for our lives to have been turned upside down.  How impossible it was to lean on each other (and often still is) because we are both so full of grief.  How isolating and lonely it was to be thrown from a perfectly normal and wonderful life into the depths of hell.  How hard it would be to simply accept that Max is gone.

I've learned that there are some wonderful people in our world.  Some who came out of the shadows to walk by our side.  I've learned that I am stronger than I ever thought possible.  I've learned that in good times and bad, I have the most wonderful and loving husband.  And, I've learned that life is hard....so incredibly hard sometimes.  I also learned that people will disappoint me and that eventually, those people don't matter so much.  Relationships evolve...some grow and some disintegrate...and that's ok.  Something very important that I want to pass on is that when people have counted my blessings and tried to force joy upon me, they have actually succeeded in doing nothing more than pushing me deeper into my grief.  My instinct, as Maxie's mother, has been to prove how deeply wounding it is to have lost him....not to pretend like everything is ok.   I have wanted everyone to know how dark my life is without Max...because it really is (and because Max was so incredibly special, that nobody's life should ever be the same without him).   What I realized yesterday is that it doesn't matter what anyone thinks at all.  Nobody who hasn't lost a child will ever know the darkness of our loss.  People will always try to put a cheerful spin on it or ignore it entirely or be so horrified by it's magnitude that they will stop talking to us completely.  Only I know what Maxie's death has done to my life....to my heart.  And, even though I continue to write about it here, I know that my feelings go deeper and are more real than anything that I have ever been able to (or will ever be able to) express in words.  Nobody will ever truly understand.  My pain, my love, my sorrow, my joys, my memories - they are sacred to me and they are all I have left of my baby boy.

And it IS so unfair.  It actually really is!  But, "it is so unfair"  - those are just words.  Words are inadequate.  They have been failing me since this nightmare began.  Not only is it a loss, is it a loss of an amazing boy who I love madly who never got to have a life, and the loss of a baby who was the center of our universe.  It is also a tragic loss, not of an old person who got to have a lifetime of memories and experiences, but of a baby who only lived nine and a half months and died at daycare.  A loss that makes people so uncomfortable that they have awkwardly made small talk with us, acting like nothing at all happened.  A loss that makes people so uncomfortable that they quietly slipped out of our lives.  It is a loss that few are sensitive and equipped enough to talk with us about.  It has sometimes made us feel excluded from normal society and conversation.  When people ask "What's new?", they want to hear about everything BUT how we are really doing.  I'm not sure what else really even matters.  This is why I kept myself hidden for so long.  I feared that if I came out of hiding there would be people who would whisper behind our backs or wouldn't say a word.  I knew there would be people who would say hurtful things to me and my skin wasn't thick enough yet to handle the disappointment.  When I put myself out there, my worst fears were often realized (and frankly, my skin STILL isn't thick enough but what can I do?)

On Maxie's birthday, I decided to make a resolution to live the remainder of my life as best as I can as an example of triumph despite adversity.  I am not saying it will be easy for me.  It will be more challenging than anything I have ever done in my whole life.  My fear is that instead of you realizing how much strength and courage it takes for me to start putting myself back together, that you will say, "Isn't that the woman that lost her baby?  Looks like she is over it!"  Or that you will think I don't love Maxie as much as you love your child, because if it was your child, you couldn't handle it.  I will never be over it....no matter whether I smile at you, or joke with you, or eventually laugh my ass off and totally rock out with you.  A gigantic piece of my heart will always be missing.  Believe me when I say that it would be easier for me to continue on as I've been these last 15 months - wearing the same sweats every day and sitting on my couch (which I still plan to do in large part).  It would be easier to continue hiding out.  But, people keep calling me strong and a part of me feels like it is time to be that.  Maybe there is a reason that we were given this broken life.  Maybe we were meant to be an example.  The truth is that I don't want to be strong  and I definitely don't want to be an example.  I want to take the easy road - but the easy road is no longer an option for me.  I've been fighting facing the music with every fiber of my being.  It took me almost the full first year to just absorb that this actually happened (I still haven't fully absorbed it).  That Maxie is actually gone.  But nothing I do will bring him back and I can either let his death ruin my life or I can hold my head up high and honor his memory by living my life out loud.  I am so proud that I am Maxie's mother.  He was the greatest joy of my life and I will not hide anymore.  It is important for Mo and our future babies to learn how to appreciate every minute of their lives no matter what their challenges are.  I have to lead by example because life isn't always easy and sometimes it is just downright shitty and a complete nightmare.  I have learned that for sure.  I will be kind with myself, knowing that it won't happen overnight.  I will need to take baby steps.  

I am more convinced every day that I will be with Maxie again and that, in the big picture, this life is just the blink of an eye.  When I see him again, I want him to be proud of me.  When we are together again, it will be for eternity and I want the time in between now and then to pass quickly.  Life moves so slow when you are in the dark like me.  I think I can get to him quicker if I learn to enjoy life again while I am here.  I am pretty sure that I can do anything if I know that he is there waiting for me.

I'm not talking about major changes here.  I am talking about getting into an exercise routine, having friends over for dinner once in a while, maybe getting out of my sweats once in a while (or at least getting a couple of new pairs).  But, these would be big things for me.  I have been shell shocked - unable to move.  It's time for me to move whether I want to or not.  Please listen to me though.  There is a lesson to learn here from someone who has been in the pit of hell.  If you really care about someone in your life who is grieving - let them grieve.  Don't make cute jokes.  Don't tell them that everything is going to be ok (it already isn't!!!)  Tell them how sorry you are, ask them how they are doing, and then just listen.  If you don't.  If you insist on trying to pull them out of their sorrow.  If you act like what happened is no big deal, they will feel cut off and misunderstood.  Just because you act casually, like it is no big deal - doesn't make it no big deal.  It might be catastrophic (For me - it is beyond catastrophic - off the charts) .  They will feel dismissed and defensive.  That isn't right.  Don't dismiss their greatest heartache - it's just cruel.  You must let them decide when it is time to rise from the ashes.  AND - for those who are currently in the pit, stay there as long as you need to.  Whatever tragedy has befallen you will take time to recover from.  Be kind to yourself.  Take naps, read books, cry your eyes out, scream and yell if you need to (you will probably need to), be angry if you want, and surround yourself with people who will validate your feelings.  Don't keep people around who keep hurting you if you don't have to.  People keep telling me that the only way through is through.  It's true.  It won't get easier necessarily but you will get stronger.  You WILL get stronger.  If I can figure out how to live with this pain, you will be able to also.  That is my hope....for me and for you.

Second birthday

Ted, Mo and I spent the day together yesterday.  We did alright I think.  We woke up and watched the Giants game.  Then, we went to the market to buy special things for Max.  We bought little balloons that said "Happy Birthday" and "Baby Boy", flowers and a number "2" candle to leave at his grave.  We also bought a balloon to release to him later in the day.  The release balloon was perfect - a big, beautiful, rainbow colored butterfly.  Last year we released live butterflies, this year a balloon butterfly.  Neither of us had ever seen a balloon like this at our market before.  It was meant to be.  Anyway, we took Mo up to visit Maxie.  To get there, we drive right by the Halloween train rides at Griffith Park's travel town.  That is where we should be with Max!  Not visiting him at the cemetery.  But, that is not our story.  Our story happens at Mt. Sinai Memorial, where we spent the afternoon telling our baby how much we love him and miss him.  My mom and Paul had been there before us and had decorated his grave with beautiful flowers.  We put up our decorations and then told him how much we wish he were here - with everything that we are.  We wished him a happy birthday over and over.  Before returning home, we drove through Baskin Robbins for ice cream.  That's our tradition...helps take the edge off a little.  Then we came home, put Mo down for a nap and released the balloon to Maxie with birthday messages from both of us.  Maxie should be two.  He should be two!

Two Years Old

Today, we should be snuggling our two year old boy...the apple of my eye.  Today we should have a backyard full of two year old kids, playing, giggling, eating ice cream and cake.  Today, our baby should be opening presents, with eyes wide and full of excitement.  Today my little boy should have his signature gigantic smile spread across his face, knowing that today is all about him.  Today, instead, our baby is buried on the side of a hill near our house.  We will visit him there and cry and sing to him and our hearts will break all over again, for the millionth time since he left us.  And, I just don't know how to keep moving.  I am so sad and angry.  It is so unfair...not only to us, but to Max.  It is so unfair, I feel like I might stop breathing and often wish I just would already.

Today, I feel like I want to tell you MORE about Max.  I want you to KNOW who he was.  What a special and beautiful soul he was.  How much he lit up our lives.  I HATE that you don't understand our loss...and I know that's not fair...but I've learned that life isn't fair.  Not at all.  If it was, I wouldn't be writing this post.  If it was, I wouldn't have this blog.

Max smiled at everyone.  He was one of those babies that you could hand off to anyone and he'd be happy.  After he died, many people shared with me their memories of holding Max.  They told me how surprised they were that he didn't fidget or act uncomfortable at all.  Instead, he looked around curiously at his surroundings, smiling at his host.  Maxie was a real charmer.

Maxie was an easy baby, settling into a routine easily.  Even when we went on trips to Costa Rica or the East Coast - he picked up the local time without effort and got easily back into his nap and bedtime schedule.  Any parent will tell you what a dream that is.  He was easy in the car - usually falling right asleep and easy on the airplane - only having one hard flight, which was because he missed an earlier nap and because we were all stressed out, almost missing our flight.  Settling him down usually meant just reciting the words to "Goodnight Moon" in his ear or singing his bedtime song to him quietly.  One of my favorite memories of him was when I would open the backseat door and pull up the hood on his car seat.  He always looked right in my eyes and gave me a huge smile.  It was like he was happy to see me again after the car ride apart.  Max knew how to play it up for the camera.  He understood that when someone pointed a camera or a phone at him, he should smile and look extra cute. 

I strolled Maxie to and from daycare a few times a week.  I cherished these walks.  I would have the cover over his face because the sun was facing him both ways due to the time of day.  We would take the streets with the most shade so that I could lift the cover every time we passed under a tree and say "Hello!" to him.  His face would light up and he would smile directly at me, then go right back to playing with whatever toy was in his hands when I would lower the hood back down.  In the mornings, I would go into his room and turn on the light on the dim setting and his big eyes would blink while they were adjusting.  And, even though he couldn't really see me yet, he would look in my direction with the most gigantic smile.  God!  I loved that about him.  He was so so happy.  So appreciative and loving.  

Maxie was adored by his cousins, his Auntie Beth, his Uncle Paul, his Grandma Susanna and K-pa, his Gigi and Papa, his Papa Chuck and Leonie, his Auntie Lyndsey, his Prima Sharon, all of his friends at daycare and so many other people in his life.  People knew when they met him that he was special.  Girlfriends who were ready to start having babies would bring their husbands over to meet Maxie to show them how much fun a little one could be.

Maxie loved his daddy and boy, he has the best daddy!  Ted and Maxie shared the most special bond.  Whenever Maxie heard Ted's voice, he sat up straighter and looked around for his daddy.  Nothing was cuter than seeing that excitement.  I imagine how that love and admiration would have grown.  I picture the two of them watching football together, playing ball in the yard, and doing all sorts of guy stuff together.  I hate that they won't get to do these things together.  It breaks my heart.

What I can tell is you is that we feel his loss every minute of every day.  We feel it with every breath we take.  Max is in every tear for sure, but every time we laugh or smile, there is a sense that it is lifting the weight of our tragedy for just that minute.  Every time we are not talking about Max, there is a knowing that we have that he is just under the surface.  We are two different people without him.  Life will never be the same.  Something else you should know though - I wouldn't trade my nine and a half months with Maxie for a lifetime with any other kid.  He was part of our soul circle.  He was meant to be ours.  And, if we have to live with this pain and heartache for the rest of our lives, it's ok.  Our time with him was worth it because he was beyond special.  He was and is the light of our lives.  Such a perfect little boy.

Happy Second Birthday to our Maxie!  We love you to the moon and back and always will.  

Our Beloved Baby Boy Your Smile Will Shine Always

40

All of these thoughts about birthdays is making me think about the fact that this is a big year amongst my friends.  Even though I am only turning 39 (I am such a spring chicken), most of my friends are turning 40....except my young husband, who is only turning 38 (I am a cougar).  Can you believe that we are getting so old?  So, what will I do about all of the raging 40th birthday parties this year?  I mean, I'd kind of like to go to one or two.  Will I bring Mo?  I've got some pretty understanding friends, but I'm not sure that is going to fly.  Will I go solo, leaving Ted at home with Mo and a bunch of breastmilk?  Will I even be able to relax and have fun?  I haven't had fun...real fun in almost 15 months.  Crazy...because fun used to be the thing that I was best at.  I always imagined that my own 40th birthday would be a BLOW-----OUT!  An awesome DJ dance party (the best kind of party).  I still can't imagine ever dancing again though.  UGH!  I can't push myself to move any quicker through this grief than I am moving....but I'd like to get my groove on at some of these parties....or at least at my own!

Mo-licious

I was wild about Maxie!  WILD!  Like, he actually drove me totally wild with love.  If you are a mom, you know what I mean.  Looking at or thinking about him made my blood pump and my heart quicken.  His smell, his face, his sweetness, his chubby thighs - I could literally eat him up!  It finally makes sense why my pet hamster did exactly that with her children (she ate them up - right in front of my face).  There is something that happens - pheromones? - that connects a mother and child.  It is way better even than romantic love.  And it is different from other deep loves as well.  I mean, I was nuts about my Grandma Mare, but looking at her didn't make the blood pump out of my veins (though she did smell pretty good - white linen or something).  But, oh my god, even thinking about Maxie now....his cuteness - makes me CRAZY.  I covered his face in kisses throughout his waking hours.  When Ted would come home at night, I would tell him "I LOVE THAT BABY!"  Holy cow - our love was deep!

I am also WILD about Mo!  His smell is one thousand times better than even a preteen whiff of Adam Glickman's polo cologne (Camp Ramah, summer of 1984).   My lips are permanently planted on his cheeks.  His little rolls send me over the moon.  When he sits up on the couch like a big boy, I feel like I've died and gone to heaven.  When he smiles at me, I feel worthy....like the most important, valuable person in the world.  When Ted comes home at night, I gush about Mozy.  "I LOVE THAT BABY!" I hear myself saying.....and then I feel stupid and guilty for a minute.

My love means nothing.  My love didn't save my baby.  My love was mocked.  And, the worst, am I betraying Maxie by loving Mo THIS much?  The guilt is enough to eat me alive (hamster style times a thousand million).  I know it is ridiculous, I know it doesn't make sense.  That's probably why the deep pain of it only lasts a minute.  But, I carry it all to some extent throughout my days and nights. Am I allowed to love this baby that deeply?  Is god making fun of me?  If I love him a little less, will he escape the curse?  But, I can't love him less!  I couldn't even if I wanted to because of those pheromones and because he is completely and totally awesome!  I mean, PLEASE - just look at him!  Don't you want to grab a cheek and eat it for dinner?

Max on my mind

I've only got Max on my mind.  He is really all I think about.  Even when I am talking to you about something else entirely, I am thinking about Max.  Whenever Mo sleeps, I am reading about grief or someone's philosophical musings on the meaning of life or people's near death experiences.  I am writing to other bereaved parents or reading their blogs - I think, if they can do this, so can I!  It's funny, because people who aren't doing this write me all of the time to say that they could never handle losing their child.  But, if I can do this, so could you.  It isn't like I chose this - it was handed to me.  I don't want to be the woman that former friends now avoid.  I don't want to be the woman who cries whenever her baby naps.  I don't want to be the person whose baby died.  But, I am.  And, I am going crazy without him.  I have never ever imagined in my whole life that I could feel this alone.  I never imagined feeling this sad.  Max lit up my life!  Max taught me the meaning of unconditional love.  He set my heart soaring whenever I thought of him.  He was wonderful and joyful and sweet and so cute!  Mo definitely has eased the loneliness.  He makes me smile.  He is my constant companion.  He stares into my eyes and I can feel his love shining into my soul.  I had the same thing with Max and I can't believe my love for him was not enough to keep him here with me.

I miss you Max.  I love you so much my chest hurts.  Life without you is so unbelievably hard.  Without Mo and Daddy, I just don't even know if there would be anything to smile about anymore.  I would give anything to have you here with me, my monkey.  I am always praying that we will be together again.  I can't wait for our reunion - imagine how wonderful it will be!  I love you to the moon and back my baby.

XOXO - Mommy

High Road

I want to start taking the high road.  I want to let the terrible things that people say to me just roll off my back.  Trouble is that I haven't got a thick skin...never really did and now it is thinner than ever.  But, fighting and fighting and fighting....it's exhausting.  There will always be people that see Ted and I as easy targets.  It's easy to pick on the bereaved parents.  It's not hard to get under our skin.  We are vulnerable and filled with sorrow.  But, I am tired of scrapping it out...and the people who are troubled enough to pick on us will probably never go away.

Starting today, I am going to do my best to start taking the high road.  Mean words DO hurt me but you don't need me to tell you that.  It won't go in one ear and out the other at first but if I keep ignoring it, maybe it eventually will.  I am joining my husband, who almost always takes the high road.

It's just not worth the pain anymore.

Honoring Maxie's Memory on Sunday

After my post yesterday, I got many emails and texts from friends asking what they can do to honor Maxie's memory on Sunday.  I have been thinking about it and here are my thoughts:
1) Please remember that Maxie is our son.  He was a living, breathing, beautiful human being.  He and Mo mean everything in the world to us...as your children do to you.  Please remember to be compassionate with us (BOTH of us).  Even when it doesn't seem like it, please know that we are fragile.  Many days we are barely hanging on.  If you don't have something nice to say to us, please don't say anything.  This is a favor that I ask from you for every day, not just Sunday.  You will honor Maxie's memory by respecting and honoring his parents feelings.
2) Please say a prayer for Mo and any of our future children that they should live long and healthy lives.  To live through this a second time would be beyond devastating.  I don't think we would make it.  Mo deserves to live (so did Maxie).  Even if you do not believe in the power of prayer - perhaps you can just say one in case.
3) I know that you have given generously to Maxie's Forest and the trees that grow there will be a beautiful honor to the memory of his life.  And while I would burn them all down to have Max back, in his absence, they are a beautiful testament to his life.  Please think about donating again in Maxie's memory to research the cause of SIDS.  I know you think SIDS doesn't happen - it is so statistically rare that it hardly ever occurs.  The truth is that SIDS is the leading cause of death in children under the age of one.  NOBODY should ever have to live through this horror.  My life will never be the same.  My soul is aching and breathing is a chore.  Please think about donating to Maxie's First Candle Fund - researching the cause and cure for SIDS and supporting bereaved families like us.  You can click here: https://www.z2systems.com/np/clients/fc/campaign.jsp?campaign=353 or click on the Team Maxie logo on the right side of the blog.  It doesn't have to be a big donation.  Think about $11 - the ones adding up to 2 for what should be Maxie's second birthday.  That might be the cost of the Fisher Price toy he would have received on Sunday anyway.  What a gift to us it would be if the cause of SIDS was found before we had our next child and that at least worrying about it could be something we could put to rest.  It is so hard to be living with so much fear for Mo while simultaneously grieving for Max.

Thank you so much for asking how you can support us.  Thank you so much for supporting us period!  We love you and are so grateful for our family, friends, and supportive strangers!

XOXO
Maxie's Mommy

Bracing myself

Maxie's second birthday is on Sunday and I am bracing myself.  I have been anxious about it for weeks.  The subject even started the very biggest fight Ted and I have ever been in.  I won't get into the details of it, but trust me, it was bad.  Thank god we both are smart enough to know that our anger wasn't really at each other but at our situation.  Our anger is that instead of figuring out whether we should get a bouncy house or have pony rides or what kind of ice cream cake to order, we are trying to decide who is coming to the cemetery with us and if we want to release balloons or butterflies.  It actually makes me completely sick.  The second birthday is the first birthday that kids have where they can actually appreciate the presents and the attention and the sing the birthday song.  I couldn't wait for Maxie to be two years old, even when he was only 2 months old.  And, yes, I know about the terrible twos.  But, oh lord - aren't they SO cute at two years old?  Maxie would have been the cutest two year old.  And, I hate (hate, hate, hate, hate) saying that I miss him because missing is what you do when you go on a business trip or your kid goes away to college.  Missing is what you do in between the times that you get to spend with the one you love.  I miss Ted when he is at work.  I missed Maxie when he went to sleep at night.  What I feel is not missing.  I ACHE for him...I LONG for him...I am beside myself with the need to be with him and I can't be EVER AGAIN IN MY WHOLE LIFE.  And, what makes it so much harder is that his life was cut short.  Nobody even remembers their first nine months of life...and that is all he had.  And, my boys are so alike.  Imagine the fun they would have growing up together, not even two years apart.  The Leviss boys would be tearing up the town, making their momma crazy, getting dirty, having so much fun together.  Mo will never have Max and Max will never have Mo.  It is mind boggling and heartbreaking for me every moment of every day.  I am bracing myself because Sunday should be Maxie's second birthday.  October 7th is a sacred day for me ...the day I gave birth to my sweet boy.  My life forever changed on that beautiful day.  My insides hurt.  My heart actually HURTS.  Sometimes it is all really too much and I don't know how we are doing this.

Just a baby

Remember this photo?

Here is what went down:

He's not ready to be a big boy yet!

Letting you off the hook

I think I am easier to be around these days.  (*I think*...I don't know).  There are a few reasons for this as I see it:
1) Mo is here.  I love him.  I love that you want to talk about him.  I could talk about Mo all day long.  You are probably more comfortable talking about Mo than you are talking about Maxie.  I have become more accepting of that.
2) I have finally accepted that you don't get it.  You just don't.  I can't make you get it.  I can't talk you into getting it.  I don't really care anymore if you get it or not.
3) I started talking a low dosage of Zoloft.  Now that I am not pregnant anymore, I felt it was important that I make my life as manageable as possible.  I checked with the hepatologist, the pediatrician and the geneticist.  Everyone agreed it was fine.  I plan on going off of it when I get pregnant again.  It hasn't helped my grief one bit...it isn't supposed to....but it has helped me to stop the constant looping in my brain about Mo's future.  It has helped me to cope.  I am grateful that it has put a floor at the bottom of this deep dark pit.  I have much. much more to say about this in a future post but today, I am just putting it out there.  Maybe you think it is crazy for me to announce on my blog that I am on antidepressants, but considering how many people I know on antidepressants who haven't lost a child, I don't think it is crazy at all.  I'm taking care of my mental health.

I'd say that it is a combination of these three things in equal parts that make it easier for you to be around me (and for me to be around you too).  I will never be able to describe trauma and unexpected loss to those of you who haven't experienced it.  I have tried all year long and been totally unsuccessful.  I just don't have the words.  I was trapped in the hell of my own mind...still am from time to time.  I'm not sure why it was important for me that you understand that I was barely functional.  I am only now slowly developing the thick skin needed to walk around this planet interacting with other human beings.

All year I would ask Ted if any of his friends and family were talking to him about Maxie.  I wanted to know if he was being supported.  He told me that, in part, he didn't even want them to say anything.  He knew that they didn't get it.  He was happy to let people off the hook because it was better than having expectations and then being disappointed.  I didn't get that at all.  I thought - if they care about us, they will want to tell us.  When they said nothing.  When they avoided the topic completely or said something hurtful, my mind would be blown to pieces.  But, I get it now.  It has taken a whole year for me to realize that most people cannot handle being uncomfortable for the few minutes it might take to say "I'm sorry".  I realize that people have shortcomings and that empathy is a very common one.  So, I am letting everyone (well, most everyone) off the hook.  Chances are that if you mostly cut contact with me after Max died, our relationship is over anyway.  But, for those of you who are still around, you don't have to feel like you need to talk about Maxie to me.  You can talk about Mo, or your job, or your boyfriend, or your lack of boyfriend.  It's fine.  I'm starting to get a better sense of who can handle it anyway.  I won't bring him up to those of you who can't.

And, for those of you who have gone out of your way to show us love and support all year long - Please know that you have saved my life in some way.  Know that you are incredibly special.  I hope I've told you many many times.  I know I haven't been easy to be around.  I'm sorry and forever grateful.  There are amazing people in this world.  There are amazing people in my life...some who have always been my closest companions, some who were on the fringes of my life and stepped out of the shadows when Max died, and some who were complete strangers to me before.  I am amazed and blessed by profoundly empathetic people who have supported us in countless ways.  One only needs to look at the comments that have been left on this blog, at the candles that were lit for Maxie, and at the thousands of trees planted in his memory to know it.  We are so lucky to have you in our lives.

A few words about Mo

Have I told you how awesome adorable easy Mo is?  We are banana nuts crazy about him!  He is a delicious expressive engaging perfect little dude.  I am completely obsessed with his every facial expression, funny movement, little sound.  Yesterday I swear he said "hi".  I said "hi" and then I heard him say "hi" back and I said "hi" again and then he said it again.  I mean, I know he didn't really say "hi", it probably just sounded like "hi", but he really is smart enough that it wouldn't surprise me.  He smells unbelievable and to kiss his cheeks is absolutely divine!  I never, ever, ever thought I could love anyone as much I love Max.  I honestly didn't think it was possible.  But, last night, while Mo was sleeping, I told Ted that I was excited to wake up to spend more time with Mo.  Big words for someone who prayed not to wake up for more than a year.  He is a gift from god!  I don't say that lightly either.  Between you and me, I was not looking forward to an infant after losing my baby.  Babies are just so much better than infants (is that wrong to say?).  Mo's infant stage lasted about a week!  Or, at least it felt that way.  He is almost 14 pounds!  He can pretty much hold his head up, making "tummy time" so much less painful.  He smiles and coos and almost straight up chats (ask Eowyn, who was here yesterday.  Mo just sat up on the couch in between us and got in on the conversation).  I can't say enough about my baby boy.  He is a total dream come true!

Ramblings on god and the book of life

Yesterday was Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement.  I spent some time thinking about the meaning of the day, my seemingly endless sorrow and my spiritual journey.  My search for understanding our profound loss seems to be taking me everywhere except within my own faith.  And I really have no explanation why, as I feel as Jewish as ever.  But, my Judaism has never had much to do with my spirituality.  My connection to my faith was always rooted in tradition, history and social justice.  Surprisingly, in the wake of Maxie's death, I haven't found anything from my own background to lean on.  I don't remember any kind of teaching about what happens after we die, I can't remember learning anything about why some people are forced to live nearly unbearable lives, only that we should help those who are less fortunate.  I have wondered if perhaps the answers I am seeking lie not within the Conservative and Reform traditions that I have been brought up with, but maybe rather in either the more religious or fringe practices of Judaism.  I thought about studying Kabbalah or meeting with an Orthodox rabbi but I just haven't gotten around to it.  I feel failed and punished by god and somehow, for me, that has translated into anger at my faith.  I'm not so much even looking for another god to connect to, as I truly believe that we are all praying to the same god, we just have different interpretations of him (her/it).  I am looking for some kind of meaning.  I need to understand WHY US?

Someone brought a copy of Harold Kushner's "Why Bad Things Happen to Good People" to Maxie's shiva for me (I frankly cannot believe I only got one copy of this book, especially considering I got 4 copies of "Goodnight Moon" when Max was born).  Rabbi Kushner speaks early on about how when he was a young rabbi, he made a visit to a young family whose child had just died.  One of the first things they told him was that they believed their child's death must have been their fault, since they hadn't attended services the past Yom Kippur.  He assured the family that our god is not a punishing god, that he would not take their child's life as revenge for their absence from synagogue on the High Holidays.  He found it incredibly distressing that Jews (or people in general) would think that the bad things that happen to us in this life are a punishment - that our concept of god is so "godless".  I may have mentioned before that I started reading this book and had to put it down before ever really getting into it.  It felt like a defense of god, and at that time, right after the death of my baby, I really felt there was no defense.  I am still not sure there is. And, whether god is punishing me, or Maxie's death is a random tragedy, or this is karma getting me back for something....it SURE FEELS UNFAIR!  It sure feels like we are being punished.  If god has no hand in this at all, what are we praying and atoning for?  If, as Jews, we don't even believe in an afterlife as such, what is the role of god?  It seems fairly irresponsible to create emotionally complex living beings and then just leave them to die and work out all of this pain.  

Which brings me to my feeling that this can't be all there is!  I mean, this just can't be it!  Will I really never see Maxie again?  Was nine and half months all he was really given?  And, while I have been searching for meaning (or god) in everything, I still haven't really found him (her/it)...though I am more and more convinced of there being "something".  Truth is, I don't even think I am searching for god...it's almost too late for him (her/it).  I am searching for Maxie..because I cannot BEAR the idea of never seeing my child again.  Victor Frankl talks about a similar search for understanding in the concentration camps in his book, "Man's Search for Meaning".  He refers to the seances that were held in Auschwitz, where prisoners secretly gathered desperately hoping to connect to the loved members of their families who had already been gassed and murdered.  It is only human to find meaning in such a devastating loss.  It is only human to feel like our loved ones can't be gone.  Afterall, they were so alive just moments ago.  If I could only understand why...if I learned that it was predestined somehow...that our souls had a contract before we were born perhaps...that we will be together again in Heaven or the Invisible World or a parallel universe...if I could know that I WAS indeed being punished for something in this life or another one....perhaps then I would understand why us...  Why Max...perhaps it would be more bearable??

After young people finish the army in Israel, it is customary for them to go on a big trip.  Many Israelis leave for a year or more to spend time abroad.  More and more they are leaving Israel, a place that most people go to to find a connection to their faith, to seek out meaning in treks to places like India and Tibet.  There is an ongoing conversation about why young Israelis feel the need to look for spirituality outside of Judaism.  Going to synagogue, saying the same prayers over and over and in the same order every time, hearing the rabbis sermons that most often are uninspiring to my generation, watching the people who haven't been there in a year all dressed up and greeting each other....it's devoid of inspiration for me.  And, although my own rabbi's sermon was actually inspiring last year, when almost nothing could have inspired me, it was basic and common sense about how to be a more caring and empathetic person.  I honestly would have liked to have had it streamed into the homes of some people in my life who didn't get the memo.  But none of it helps me understand one bit what my purpose is, what the purpose of suffering is, why some people lead charmed lives while others have to fight it out.   We learn to be good people, to be charitable, to take care of our neighbors....well, I did all that and my baby died!!!!  I am not feeling inspired.

The year that Maxie was born, we prayed for him to be written into the book of life, and our prayers were mocked.  This year, I silently asked for Mo to be given a chance that his brother was not given. I know that there are other religions that promise more to their followers - that teach that if I follow the rules I will be blessed in the next life - but I am not sure I can get behind some people being saved and others not.  It just doesn't resonate.  I think a Christian god would love me too, even if I wasn't bright enough to understand his teachings in this lifetime.  If I am wrong, and I am going to hell, how much worse can it be than the hell of losing Max?  And, really, I am not sure if my search this past year has been for "god" or "faith" anyway.  I mean, I am still pretty sure that I like my own religion.  I like that we are taught to be good just because it is the way we should be - not because we will be rewarded for it here or in the next life.  Although, to be on the receiving end of such pain, I sure wish there was something we could do to avoid bad things happening again.  But, I look around on the internet at other blogging parents and children die of all religions, and as far as I can tell, all of the parents I am reading about are really good people...and more importantly, they are all really good parents!

So, what does Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish calendar mean to me now?  Now that my worst nightmare came true?  I guess it was a day to think about how Maxie's life fits in with my search for truth.  It was a day that I spent some quality time thinking about the pure love that we will always have for him.  It was a day that I spent wondering what my connection to god really is now in the wake of this tragedy.  The truth is that I never gave much thought to god before Max died and now all I think about is the order of this universe and what part god plays in it.  And, it makes me mad to think that Maxie's death was meant to be some kind of wake up call ... so I spent much of the last year aggressively fighting that idea by being mad at god.  This Yom Kippur, I tried my best to make peace with god because the truth is that I might need a relationship with him (her/it) in order to connect to and be with Maxie again, which, along with Ted and Mo, is the most important thing in my life.  So, just in case, starting this year, I am working on making my peace with god and praying that Mo is written into the book of life this year and for many, many, many to come.  I was mocked before but I won't be mocked again.  I don't believe god could possibly do it to us again.  The premise of Kushner's book is that the role of god is to comfort us when bad things happen, not cause them to happen and fighting that is just exhausting.  So, while I am not a particularly religious person, I am thinking that I might try that angle for a while and see where it gets me.  I'll let you know.

G'mar Chatima Tova - May you and those that matter to you be written in the book of life.

Maxie - we are missing you desperately every day of our lives.

You will never be forgotten.

We love you to the moon and back again baby!

Mo's Smiles

Mo is getting really good at smiling.  His favorite places to smile are on the changing table, in his rainforest jumper (looking at the little jumping frog...just like Max did), and staring up at himself in the mirror on his baby swing.  His smile is the best thing that has happened to us in 14 months!

Like any baby though, he isn't always happy.  

But he IS always cute: