Maxie's Candles

We love you all so much! Thank you for keeping Maxie in your hearts.

Two whole years without him

Dear Beautiful Max,

Neither one of us can believe it has been two years because it feels like only yesterday that we kissed you last.  It seems like yesterday when this nightmare began.  Somehow, it also feels like an eternity.  We didn't know it was possible to miss someone this much, to love them this much, to long and ache this intensely. In so many ways, we have "improved": we are stronger, we are more grateful for each day, we know how precious each moment is. At the same time, we are so weak: we are starting to realize that this pain will never go away, we are hurt easily, we are more vulnerable, more afraid.  The melancholy can be all consuming and at times, this feels like a life sentence for a crime we cannot pinpoint. We hear parents talk about missing their children who are gone for the weekend, gone away to summer camp, going off to college and we have nothing to say. You are gone forever. It just feels impossible.

Two years without you, sweet one, and a LIFETIME to go. I have no idea how we are doing it. Our biggest challenge each day is to figure out how to live without you - a constant existential crisis. We miss you with our entire insides. You have never been forgotten - even for one minute, you are always wholly loved, you are always with us and we are always with you. 

To the moon and so far beyond - we cannot wait to be with you again. We will keep searching for you in our dreams.

xoxo

Mommy & Daddy

Just what I needed

I wasn't alone at the cemetery yesterday.  Prima Sharon and Mo came with me.  I sat down on Maxie's grave and was overcome with sorrow and "whys?".  Why?  I will never understand how this happened to my sweet boy.  He was and is so loved.

Mo had been fussy all morning - anxious to crawl as much as possible, teething, whining....but not once we got to Maxie's spot.  As I sat there crying, Mo sat next to me.  He put his two fingers in his mouth and then leaned into me.  Once in a while, he would look up at me and then go back to leaning.  He didn't try to crawl away.  He didn't try to pick up the stones on Maxie's headstone.  He didn't try and grab the pinwheels.  He just sat, quietly comforting me.  It was just what I needed.

Always with me

My early grief was so all-consuming.  It was like I'd left this world that I know and was zapped into a completely different universe - one of complete pain.  I could not escape from the longing, missing, questioning, begging, questioning, mourning.  I barely left my home.  I spent a lot of time in bed, covers pulled over my head.  All of my energy, all day long was devoted to grieving.  

When I think about how far we have come in two years, I am reminded of the resilience of the human spirit.  I can't believe that we are here - in a place where we socialize, laugh with each other, enjoy many parts of our new lives.  It is remarkable.  I feel really grateful.

The intense pain is right below the surface.  It takes so much effort for me to focus on anything other than how much I miss him.  Being in this new place sometimes make me feel like I have left Maxie behind.  Like I've abandoned him.  I feel like my joy betrays my love for him.  I feel just sick about that.

But, the truth is that he is ALWAYS on my mind.  ALWAYS.  I am literally never not thinking about him.  This is why I don't remember conversations that I've had with friends and colleagues and why I have to keep track of everything that I am doing at work in a spreadsheet.  I literally turn on my computer in the morning and I can't remember what I was working on the day before until I look at the spreadsheet and remind myself.  I read back what I've written and think, "I wrote that?"  My brain is literally mush.  Thinking about Max all day long while trying to accomplish other tasks is so hard but I am grateful for that too.  I don't want him to stray too far from me.  

I often long for the days when I was still in hell.  It's strange.  I know.  I should just be grateful for having made such progress.  But, the thing about this progress is that I feel like I've lost a piece of my connection.  Grief kept us close, and now he feels so far away.  It has been two years since I last fed my baby breakfast, watched him play with his dogs, and dropped him off at daycare.  I can hardly stand how much I miss him.

I love you to the moon and back (and back and back and back) Maxie.  You are never off my mind - You are always in my heart.  I love you.

 

My (former) friend from the market

One of the things we loved most about our neighborhood when we moved here was our local supermarket.  It isn't anything too special but it has a wonderful fresh produce section and it is walking distance from our home.  I took many many walks there with Maxie while I was out on maternity leave and had various post-partum cravings. 

While I was pregnant with Maxie, I became friendly with one of the employees who works in the produce section.  His wife was pregnant at the same time (with their second) and was due a month after me.  We spoke a lot about babies and checked in on each other always - before and after Maxie's birth.  After losing Maxie, I dreaded going back to that store.  It reminded me too much of being there happy with him.  Markets in general were a nightmare for a long time, but that one in particular was really hell. 

I finally got up the courage several months ago to go there again and it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.  Being able to take Mo to the market with me has made shopping enjoyable again.  I NEVER thought I would like shopping ever again - but I do.  Over the period of a couple months, I visited this market many times and never saw my produce section friend.  I was relieved.  He had confided that he didn't really like working there anyway so I just hoped that perhaps he had found a better opportunity.

A couple of weeks ago, I was filling a prescription and I saw him across the store.  I had planned on picking up some extra stuff but instead I booked it out of there.  I dreaded coming face to face with him after all of this time and having him ask me about my baby.  What would I tell him?  That my baby was not ok?  That my baby died?  It's just too much to even think about. 

I had to pick up a few things on Monday afternoon and drove a little further away to another market.  As I pulled up, I saw a guy in front of the store yelling and screaming and having a breakdown and I just knew I could not handle it.  So, against my better judgment, I drove to the local market.  I worked my way around the whole periphery of the market before braving my way into the center produce area.  I saw my produce friend there but I looked away.  I was hoping he just would be so engrossed in whatever he was doing that he wouldn't even see me.  I only had three produce items to get.  He did see me though and marched right up to me.  "Long time no see!", he said, grinning ear to ear, "where have you been?"  "Oh hi", I replied.  I tried to act confused, like I didn't recognize him.  "It's been so long!", he said again, "how is your baby?"  My heart stopped.  I looked at Mo and said "Fine" and then continued to act spaced out....like I didn't know him.  I felt like such a jerk.  But, I just couldn't do it - I couldn't tell him how my baby was - because I can barely believe it and I hate having to say it out loud.  He got the message and mumbled a quick "See you around" before taking off to the other side of the section. 

I felt terrible afterwards.  More about having had to brace myself for what should have been such a simple conversation.  I can only hope that now, he doesn't like me and won't be saying hello anymore so that I go to the store and not have to worry about seeing him and telling him about my broken heart.

Another candle for Maxie

Maxie's light went out at just after 5 pm on July 21, 2011.  It was the moment that we gave in and realized that no miracle was coming.  Our baby boy was gone to us for the rest of this lifetime.  The whole experience is still unreal to us and at the same time, it is so shockingly real.  We are very sad this week - feeling it all so much deeper than usual.  Our grief counselor warned us that anniversaries would feel like pulling off a scab on a newly healing wound.  Ted reminded me of that the other day after telling me how much pain he is in.  We miss Max so much.  SO MUCH.  

Last year we asked friends, family and readers to light a candle for Maxie on the 21st and to send us a photo.  The only light that crept into our worlds on that day were the photos of all of the bright candles lit for Max all over the world (click on the link - the photos are wonderful).  It was so special and we really felt that Max knew how many people were thinking of him and remembering his sweet soul.  Those candles were like a salve on our hearts.  I wonder if you would consider lighting a candle for Maxie and taking a photo of it again to share with us - this Sunday, just after 5pm your time (or whatever time you can).

Thank you for being a part of this journey.  Thank you for keeping us in your hearts.  Thank you for remembering Maxie with us.  We really do believe his short life has touched others and that means the world to us.

XOXO

Standing up

The doggy door is the one place in our house where Mo has figured out how to stand up on his own.  He looks pretty proud of himself, wouldn't you say?!

On edge

I am feeling so on edge.  I have really been busying my mind, trying to keep myself thinking about anything other than this upcoming anniversary of losing Max and the three most horrific days of our lives.  It's just sitting at the surface though.  Whenever I find myself alone (not often these days), I burst into tears - in the bathroom, in the shower, in the car (I'm rarely in the car without Mo but when I am - it's like my eyeballs explode).  I barely even want to talk to anyone about it anymore - because they understand less and less as time goes on.  Ted is feeling it too - he's been listening to music all of the time (in the car, while working on his construction site, while walking the dogs) that makes him think of Max.  He feels like he is torturing himself, but he can't stop.  I think I've been holding on to some fantasy that he would be coming back somehow.  That I would have heard him or seen him by now and it is just more and more real as time goes on that he is gone forever.  I am struggling right now to get through these days and praying that the load lightens somewhat by the time we reach Mo's birthday next week.  I just wish it wasn't THIS hard.  

Favorites

This is my current favorite photo of Mo, playing with his current favorite toy! He is such a happy boy!

Overprotective

I must have the most patient nanny in the world.  At least one thousand times a day, I remind her of the potential hazards that could hurt Mo.  "Remember to break that into small pieces", I say.  "Ok", she replies.  "Remember not to put your hot coffee in the stroller cup holders - there is even a warning on the stroller.  You could trip and spill coffee on the baby!"  "I remember", she says.  "Make sure that he doesn't get too close to that trash can, it could topple on him!"  "Good point", my nanny says.  I am so grateful for her maturity and self confidence.  She knows that she is taking good care of my baby and how much I love her for that.  She never ever takes it personal that I am constantly worrying about Mo.  She knows that.....

I am an overprotective Mother.

All of Maxie's months, I worried about him.  I said all of the same things, "Remember not to heat breast milk in the microwave - it creates hot spots."  Everyone rolled their eyes at me.  "We've taken care of children before and they grew up fine", they'd say.

Ok.

Obviously, my child will not grow up.  I cannot even believe that I spent so much time voicing my concerns about his safety, enduring so many eye rolls, and then he went to daycare one day and stopped breathing.  My heart is so heavy.  My life so uneasy.  My overprotective nature is more intense than ever.  WOULDN'T YOURS BE?

When I was pregnant with Mo, I warned everyone.  "I will be very overprotective.", I said time and time again.  "Of course you will be", everyone replied.  "Please don't be offended when I repeat the same worries and remind you of safety precautions a thousand times", I said. "We will understand", they'd say. I thought that they really would too.  They don't.  It is incredibly disappointing and frustrating.

I don't point out safety hazards to people because I think they are stupid.  I do it because if I hadn't read it myself, I'd 100% be microwaving breast milk.  If I hadn't read the warning label - my tall soy latte would be in my stroller's cup holder.

I am not planning on becoming a super easy going mother any time soon.  I WILL DO EVERYTHING IN MY POWER TO MAKE SURE THAT I NEVER GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN.  I won't always be able to dance around egos to make sure that when I am voicing valid concerns  or raising important questions about my child's safety that I am also choosing my words in a way that doesn't make them feel picked on. My overprotectiveness is equal opportunity. I would give directions to the "super nanny" if she were watching my kids.  I will have to rely, to a certain extent, on people understanding that I am a mother who has already lost a child and who is naturally overprotective anyway.  I would hope that they might at least have the maturity and self confidence of my 24 year old nanny. I WISH I had been more assertive about Max.  In fact, the idea that I may not have been assertive enough, because I was worried about hurting someone's feelings and I didn't want my overprotective nature belittled again, has kept me up many many nights. If I had been more assertive, maybe Maxie would be here now.

My child's safety is much more important to me that anyone's feelings - no matter what.   I am his mother! That is how it should be.  I am tired of making apologies. Please humor me. It shouldn't have to be this difficult.

Desperate

Sometimes I can tell what kind of a day Ted has had based on the intensity with which he hugs and kisses Mo when he gets home.  Not that he isn't ALWAYS overjoyed to see his baby, but sometimes it is like Mo is the only thing that can help his aching heart.  It is a desperation to be close to his child and it is "desperate" because of the inability to see his other child.

I can tell - because I feel it too.  There are naps Mo takes during which I can feel my heart physically breaking in my chest.  When he wakes up, I need to be with him.  Right next to him.  Holding him close and covering him with kisses.

He is the only thing that can help ease this pain. 

Battles

Seeing Ted suffering - so sad and missing Max so much - it tears me apart.  I feel so helpless.  I want to run to him and hold him but when he feels this way, he wants space.  The best thing I can do for him is nothing.  "Nothing" = sucks.  When I feel like he feels, I want to be held and told that what happened is the most unfair, most terrible thing in the world and that Maxie was the most wonderful, beautiful, special baby ever.  That never really happens from the people I want it from most.  We do for each other what we want done for ourselves and those things often don't match up.  I feel so helpless that there is nothing I can do to help ease the trauma of this insane blow.  I just try to acknowledge it, because I want to remind him that he is not alone.  I am here with him.  Always will be.

I feel so protective of him.  I can't help him but hell if I am going to let anyone near him to hurt him.  I am trying to get over it, but it is really hard.  I've wanted so badly for him to get the support he needed from various people in his life and when certain people acted inappropriately, I got very angry about it.  A couple of people who were around us during the weeks after we lost Maxie acted so inappropriately, I felt insulted - like they'd really disrespected Max and our loss.  However, I felt so much more disappointed and angry FOR Ted - that they couldn't be there for him, that they couldn't say how awful this all was and how sad they were that it had happened to our baby, and that Ted is an incredible person and father who did not deserve this!  And, you know sometimes Ted shared this anger and disappointment with me and sometimes he didn't.  Mostly he didn't because he was usually trying to protect those people from me (and my wrath I guess).  It is one thing if are inappropriate and dismissive with me but you'd better sleep with one eye open if you mess with Ted!  

It's taken me a really long time to realize this, but my feelings just cause him more stress. He'd rather just overlook the bad behavior of those people and my being pissed off makes it hard for him.  I think I just have to grit my teeth and bare it.  They really aren't my battles and even while I am writing this I am having to convince myself of this - they acted like Max's death was no big deal, they were insensitive, they made inappropriate jokes........I could go on and on..... But, they aren't MY people to get rid of (because, believe me, if they were....but they aren't).  I have cleaned my house.  That is about the best I can do.  His battles are not my battles, especially when he doesn't choose to battle at all.  Especially when it causes him more sadness and distress.

Mo's Mommy

I think Mo has been saying variations on "Mommy" lately.  "Momma", "Mom", "Mommy".  I can't really be 100% sure that it is intentional but it seems to come at times when a child would call for his mother, like when he is crawling into the room that I am in or when he is feeling sleepy and ready for a nap.  The jury is out....there are those who think it is totally obvious - he is saying "Mommy", there are others (and I think I am in this camp), who are not quite sure.  I want to believe he is saying Mommy but wondering if he is just babbling with M's and maybe I am wishful thinking.  Soon enough it will become clear.  In the meantime, what is clear is how much he loves me.

Another 19th ahead

Many people have asked me what we are doing on the 19th to memorialize the two year anniversary of the day that Maxie stopped breathing.  To be honest, I haven't even let myself think about it yet.  I am not sure if Ted has either because he hasn't brought it up.  The fact is that the 19th falls on a Friday and even though it will feel to us like the world should take a pause, it won't.    Ted will have to get up and go to work at the crack of dawn.  Nobody will know or mention the fact that it is the two year anniversary of the day his son stopped breathing.  I will also answer emails and make phone calls to colleagues, most of them won't say a thing because most of them don't know and those who do are too scared to say a word.  I might have time in the afternoon to visit Max at the cemetery, a place that makes the loss TOO real for me - that crushes every cell in my body - that I can barely handle without Ted - but that I will have to do alone on the 19th.  Ted likely won't be able to go at all on that day.  By the time he gets home, the day will be almost over and I am sure we will both be grateful for that - the day that marks another year without our child is hardly a day I'd like to drag on.

I could seriously stare at this face all day!!

PTSD

After losing Maxie, I suffered from BAD Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for a long time.  My brain kept looping the worst images of our experience.  It felt like there was a constant ringing in my ears, a scream in my heart, and like my brain was bleeding.  I always describe it the same way: like my soul was trying to escape from my body.  I could not hold it in - there was no calmness to be had.  I could not calmly sit and have a conversation with anyone about stuff.  I wanted to tear my hair our and rip my eyeballs out their sockets and while people talked to me about the weather and what was happening at work, I wanted to yell in their faces, "MY CHILD DIED YOU COMPLETE A**H#LE!""

PTSD is real.  It is as real as having a physical injury.  It makes you angry and anti-social.  It blurs your experience of reality.  You feel unsafe ALL of the time.  You cannot concentrate on anything longer than the very second you are breathing in.  It causes nightmares (for me - every single night - so badly that I dreaded going to sleep) and panic attacks.  It is almost impossible to work, or drive, or do much of anything.  It is almost laughable when I think of the things people asked me to do after I lost Maxie - like to go to a five day work conference out of town, where I surely would have been hospitalized or worse.  But, I realize now that people thought that what I was experiencing was just grief, something they might have experienced themselves after losing a grandparent or even a parent or pet.  Something heavy and deeply sad that stays with you for life.  They hadn't experienced what I was experiencing.

There is a difference between PTSD and grief.  The combination of the two is completely debilitating.  Almost every parent I have spoken to who has lost a child has suffered from PTSD.  Eventually, the PTSD wears off (mostly), and we are left with the grief - a profound and horrific sadness but somehow more manageable than the PTSD/grief combination.  I think that this is the piece of the equation that, had I known early on, would have given me a little hope that I was going to regain my sanity.  Also, PTSD is something that you can takes steps towards managing.  The grief of losing Max will be with me for life, but the PTSD does not have to be.  For me, that is really encouraging - I wish I had understood that when I was suffering from both things, but I couldn't separate the two.  It was all jumbled together for me.

People would tell me that the grief would be with me for life and all I could think was that there was NO WAY I could continue to live like that.  To live the way I was living was unsustainable.  It was relentless.  The pain was nonstop.  There was no room for air.  I really believe that a lot of that was the PTSD.  Certainly, there is a certain amount of it that is the normal stages of grieving - the shock, the despair, the depression, the bargaining - I cannot discount that losing Max is still completely unfathomable to me - I still find myself crying hysterically and obsessing over the fact that my baby is gone to me forever and the MISSING IS JUST TOO MUCH.....but my flashbacks and nightmares would completely take over my brain and I just couldn't even get out of bed most days.

What I mostly feel now is a deep deep sense of loss and sorrow.  I miss his sweet face and chubby thighs.  I miss his perfect eyelashes and dimple.  I miss the way he looked at me and the connection we had, which was more intense than anything I'd ever known.  I miss dreaming about all that he'd become and the excitement I felt about being his parent and the opportunity we had to be part of making his life wonderful.

I rarely have flashbacks anymore....maybe a couple of times a month.  I only have nightmares once in a while.  There are a handful of people who I am still angry at because even with all of this distance, I can still see that they acted like sh*th*ads, but I am not an angry person anymore.  I don't feel like screaming at everyone who just wants to make small talk with me.  I even enjoy being social with people I feel comfortable with now.  I rarely have panic attacks anymore.  What happened to me at my cousin's Bar Mitzvah was not a panic attack, it was a wave a grief....that still happens a lot, as I expect it will continue to happen throughout my life.  Many of life's really lovely moments will feel bittersweet to me but I can handle waves of grief much better than panic attacks.  A wave of grief is heavy emotion, and I can excuse myself to go outside and cry.  A panic attack is a physical response that causes you to lose control of your own body and that is really scary.

If you are suffering from PTSD (or are having any kind of trauma or anxiety issues), there are things that you can do to help yourself.  These are some things that worked for me.  Hypnotherapy.  Find a GOOD practitioner (would this be a good place to plug my Auntie Alison, who has actually experienced PTSD herself?  She lives in Portland, OR) and I promise it will make you feel better.  You can also download guided meditations and listen to help you relax or fall asleep.  I fell asleep to guided meditations for months.  The ones I found MOST helpful were the brain sync meditations that put you in a Theta state.  It will feel really goofy when you first start to listen to them but get over it.  I like Kelly Howell for healing and recovery (google her) - listen with earphones.  You can also practice meditation.  I have a lot of trouble with meditation but when I do it, it helps me.  I have an easier time with chanting meditation than the kind where you "quiet the mind".  My mind doesn't quiet - it spins and spins and spins.  Chanting, or repeating a mantra, gives your brain something to do.  You can even make up your own mantra like "I am quieting my mind while healing my heart" or whatever.  If the idea of meditation is repugnant - reading, cooking, cleaning, exercising (especially swimming, walking, yoga and running) are all meditative exercises.  They help you tune out and tune in.  EMDR is supposed to be a very effective treatment for PTSD.  I did it as part of my attempt to contact Max in Washington.  While I was very disappointed by that experience, I do believe that the EMDR part was helpful as I haven't had any severe flashbacks since then.

I know there are many other modalities that have helped PTSD sufferers.  If you have benefitted from or have any suggestions, I would love for you to leave them in my comments section so that they might be able to help someone else.  PTSD is hell.  If you are going through it, for whatever reason, I can relate and I am so so sorry.  I hope that you will find ways to deal with it because I know how terrible it really is.  My suggestion - don't let anyone make you feel bad that you can't just get up and get on with it.  They have no idea.  Take all of the time you need.  You know what you can and cannot handle.  You will get there eventually.

It's working!

I have no reason to lie to you.  And, I know I come off as a new age looney sometimes, but I really am not.  I am just open to trying new things.

Like acupuncture for dogs.

I only WISH I could tell you that acupuncture worked this well for me!  In fact, I wish I could have reported back to you two months ago that my weight issues were finally under control because of my very effective acupuncture sessions.  Alas, that is not the case.

But for Jakey, acupuncture has been like a miracle and I am not exaggerating.  For the past 6-8 months, he has been in a lot of pain.  And, I feel like it kind of happened overnight.  His health seemed to be declining rapidly and it was scaring me.  He would spend all evening and sometimes in the middle of the night moaning like Chewbacca in pain and it was just heartbreaking.  We were giving him pain pills in the morning and often again in the evenings.  He was having trouble getting off the floor and when Layla would run out the doggie door to go chase an outside squirrel, Jake would just lie on the floor and barely lift an eyebrow.

Jake is VERY special to me and I am not ready to lose him yet (not that I will ever be ready....not that I have been ready to lose anyone I've lost).  I just need a little break.  JUST a little break!

I'm telling you that from his very first session, there has been a remarkable change.  It is like we went back in time nine months and he's only had two sessions.  There is no more night time moaning.  No more issues getting off the floor.  He jumps up off the ground with his sister when he hears the squirrels.  I really wasn't expecting this.  To be frank, I was expecting nothing.  I figured I'd take him so that I could know that I'd done everything I could.  But it is working!  It really is.  It's like my "western" doctor said to me, "We don't really understand why acupuncture works, but it works".  Fine by me....I totally don't care why or how, only that it does.

In case you are interested - we are going to the Limehouse Veterinary Clinic for Holistic Medicine in Toluca Lake and seeing Dr. Masami Seplow, who is great!  And, no, they are not sponsoring my post.

July

I have to imagine that part of the reason that my grief feels so close to the surface these days is because we are back in July.  I have been eagerly anticipating July, because Mo is turning one!  But, just two days before his birthday is the anniversary of Maxie's passing.  Is this really my life?  It's just unbelievably crazy, isn't it?  I'm always shoving down the grief and trying to focus on the happiness and love but it seems like this month is really intensifying that struggle.  And, it's like I couldn't quite wrap my brain around what was going on until it registered yesterday that we are back in July and how much I think I hate this month - even though Gigi (Ted's mom - actually named Bonnie)'s birthday is on the 19th, my dad's birthday is on the 20th and Mo's birthday is on the 23rd.  July 19th marks Maxie's incident (and the day I believe his spirit actually left our world) and the 21st marks the last time I kissed my sweet boy.  It's all too sickening to be true.  I miss him so much.  The missing never gets any easier....it just doesn't.

4th of July Photo Shoot

Happy Fourth of July!!

Cousin Love

As we sat at the breakfast table on Sunday with my cousins girls and my aunt ALL taking photos of Mo with their iPhones, I said, "What I REALLY want is a photo of all of you taking photos!"  And so it was.  My aunt's husband, Rod, sent me this one.  I love it....totally captures the moment.

*I feel like I should mention that these girls don't all have their own iPhones.  They just have the hand me downs with music and photos - no wifi or phone.  Not spoiled at all - these girls are so down to earth and lovely.  (Not that kids with iPhones are spoiled.....well, you know what I'm saying....)

The hardest lessons

Ted understands.

I didn't mean to imply he doesn't.  He understands better than anyone.

I just don't always want to burden him with how I am feeling.

He misses Maxie as much as I do.  Of course.  At times, his grief is even more palpable than mine because he has suppressed it for so long, because he was busy managing my grief. But you can't hold in something that intense forever.  Now I think he is going through things that I've actually already gone through.

If anything, I fake it for Ted now so he can better deal with his own grief and not have to continue dealing with mine.  And because, contrary to popular belief, a couple in grief cannot (generally speaking - in MY experience) "lean on each other" - it is too much weight to bear.  When we do it, we risk bringing each other down.  I don't actually think I am fooling him - he sees right through me and I see right through him.  We cannot sit around our own house crying all of the time (anymore).  We would drown....we know that because we WERE drowning before Mo was born.

I have noticed, however, that I get along a whole lot better with my parents when I fake happy.  I have danced around that fact here for a long time because I wanted to preserve the image anyone might have of them holding me in their arms while I cried but I don't think either of them would argue with the fact that they don't like me very much when I let them see how devastated I actually am.  Don't get me wrong, they love me no matter what.  But, they like me a whole lot better when I am happy.  Neither of them liked me very much after Max died.  And, I don't think that I have too many friends who would choose to spend time with someone who cries all of the time either (although I do have some).  Most people don't like people who can't make small talk.  So eventually you buck up and pull out your most superficial armor and get to it.

When I say that grief is private - what I mostly mean is that if I shared it all of the time, I'd have no friends left.  When I did share it all of the time, I sure lost a lot of friends.  My relationships with my immediate family suffered a lot.  As I've mentioned before, I suppose we are all too busy taking care of ourselves to support each other much.  I once told my father that I was sad he couldn't support me (emotionally).  He said I wasn't supporting him either.  He was right.  I had nothing in me to give.  I guess he doesn't either. I had hoped that since I am the "child" and he is the parent, it would still be his job to take care of me. It doesn't work that way. My expectations of him were too high, as many others expectations were of me.  So, I've learned to cry on my own time for the most part.  It's a lesson that will keep me strong for the future.

Some of the most important lessons are hard won...this one is no exception.  Early on in my grief, people who'd been through this would tell me that this would make me a more compassionate person (which mostly just pissed me off).  I actually thought that I already was compassionate because I could honestly FEEL other people's pain - almost too much.  It was too much to bear at times and so I'd run away - as many have run away from me.  What I think I could do now is BE with another person's pain and not run away from it.  This is what I hope I can do for others and for my own children.  What I really hope though is that they can dance through life unscathed, without ever having to learn the really hard lessons. If that isn't the case though, I am not going to run away.

Overdue

Every day I decide to be happy.  I DECIDE to do my best....DESPITE the fact that my heart is BROKEN and can never be put back together.  I spend most of all day every day SHOVING very hard, dark emotions deep into my insides.  Shoving, shoving, shoving.  Smiling and shoving. Wearing a gigantic mask.

I was overdue.

This weekend my cousin Jodi was in town with her three beautiful girls for the Bar Mitzvah. Each little girl is so completely different from the other - as children are - as PEOPLE ARE - completely different and unique (even though people suggest that Mo can replace Max, he CANNOT because people are unique!!!!!).  The girls loved Mo.  They showered him with affection and attention all weekend long.  He LOVED them.  They never met Max.  It is so painful to think about.  Jodi only met him once.

I haven't been to a Jewish service since the Rosh Hashana right after we lost Maxie.  I didn't really think ahead.  At first, it felt like a homecoming.  It was a lovely service.  The cantor sang familiar melodies.  It was comforting.  I even contemplated making services a part of my weekly ritual....perhaps they would bring me comfort and community.  As Mo's nap time was right in the middle of the service, Ted and I had devised a plan.  Ted would take Mo to the car for a bottle and a car nap, while I stayed and finished the service.  So, I was alone at the end when IT happened.  "IT" is the part of the service that I had forgotten would come.  "IT" is the Mourners Kaddish - the prayer for the dead.  In a liberal service (which we were in), the rabbi or cantor often asks the congregants to say out loud the names of the deceased.  I called Max's name almost too eagerly - since nobody ever says his name out loud, I look for opportunities to say it because I love him SO much.  In fact, I sort of wonder if I shouted it.  After I said it, tears came pouring out of my eyes and I couldn't stop.  I literally could not stop crying (quietly) until the end of the service.  You see, usually I can focus on Mo and that helps me stop - but he wasn't there - he was having a car nap with Ted.  I was defenseless.....and JEALOUS.

JEALOUS!  I hate it!  I hate that on a day celebrating a special little boy (ahem.....I mean, man), I was feeling jealous.  But it is true.  His mother was beaming with pride and love.  And as I sat there, I watched my other cousin snuggle with her youngest daughter.  Her mother, my aunt, giving an arm tickle to the oldest.  My oldest should have been sitting next to me while my youngest napped in the car with his daddy.  But it just isn't so and I am so so jealous and I miss Maxie so much and I LONG for normalcy.  I finally pulled it together but the hole in my heart was wide open and stayed open for the rest of the weekend.

Yesterday, Mo and I had breakfast with my aunt and her husband, my cousin and her daughters.  Mo held center stage.  The girls were all over him and he was totally eating it up.  I know they would have loved Maxie.  He would have loved them too.  He loved attention.  He loved little girls.  He loved new people.  I cracked.  My aunt has five granddaughters.  She said something about being lucky to have not experienced a loss like ours and I said, "But you have!   Maxie was yours!  Just like these girls are mine!"  I know she knows that, and I know what she meant.   Also, she didn't ever really get to know Max.  If she had, she would have been devastated.  Or at least I like to think that about the people who didn't really know him.  I like to think it would have blown their world to pieces - as it should have anyway if they love me - because my loss is their loss and my loss is devastating.  The connection I feel to my cousin's daughters is in my bones - they are a part of me - as I would imagine my children are in her bones. 

I don't even think Ted knows how much my heart hurts right now.  I do a good job faking it these days.  I don't let anyone in anymore - not even him.  If I've learned anything in the last two years, it's that pain is private, as much as I wish I could share.  Everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) is just sitting around waiting for you to be "happy" again, even when they are being patient with your sadness.  Some people do the best they can, but even then it gets to be too much.  So, I only share the real pain here now...and even here I dumb it down.  Anyway, I was overdue.  I was going to crack eventually.  Sometimes I just don't know how I am doing this, especially now that I really know - this pain isn't going anywhere - it is here to stay - forever and ever - for the rest of my life.