I loved Maxie in his swing. It was a hand-me-down from my friend Marla and her husband Matt. Little Ella (their daughter must have loved this swing too because I remember them getting a little emotional when we packed it into our car. Maxie took lots of naps in the swing. He slept his first 11 hour night in the swing (the first night out of his helmet). I remember the first time he looked up and noticed the little lambs dancing over his head. What a milestone! Every morning, he napped in his swing while I got ready for work. What a punky little monkey! He is the cutest. I miss this swinging monkey so much it feels like the pain will kill me every minute. Lord I miss you Max! I miss you with everything that I am. You are my soul baby. My whole heart and soul.
Lost footage
Friday, May 11, 2012
I took out my camera last weekend to get some photos of the dogs with us at the dog park and found a video that I didn't know I had. I have cried many tears that we don't have more videos of Maxie. Our cameras take videos, our phones do, we even have a mini digital video recorder. May I suggest that if you have children, that you take lots of videos? You'll cherish them when your kids get older. It has been killing me that I didn't have a video of Maxie in his swing. And, then I found this. It is devastating to me that I can only see my baby in photos, videos and dreams now. But, I am grateful for this...even though it is dark, even though he is sleeping (youtube has a function that let me enhance the light a little...amazing).
I loved Maxie in his swing. It was a hand-me-down from my friend Marla and her husband Matt. Little Ella (their daughter must have loved this swing too because I remember them getting a little emotional when we packed it into our car. Maxie took lots of naps in the swing. He slept his first 11 hour night in the swing (the first night out of his helmet). I remember the first time he looked up and noticed the little lambs dancing over his head. What a milestone! Every morning, he napped in his swing while I got ready for work. What a punky little monkey! He is the cutest. I miss this swinging monkey so much it feels like the pain will kill me every minute. Lord I miss you Max! I miss you with everything that I am. You are my soul baby. My whole heart and soul.
I loved Maxie in his swing. It was a hand-me-down from my friend Marla and her husband Matt. Little Ella (their daughter must have loved this swing too because I remember them getting a little emotional when we packed it into our car. Maxie took lots of naps in the swing. He slept his first 11 hour night in the swing (the first night out of his helmet). I remember the first time he looked up and noticed the little lambs dancing over his head. What a milestone! Every morning, he napped in his swing while I got ready for work. What a punky little monkey! He is the cutest. I miss this swinging monkey so much it feels like the pain will kill me every minute. Lord I miss you Max! I miss you with everything that I am. You are my soul baby. My whole heart and soul.
Teddy's Lucky Number
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Teddy's got a lucky number. It's 27. It's been his lucky number his whole life. Might have something to do with the fact that he was born on December 27th. My spiritual counselor tells me that 27 is a very powerful number.
While Maxie was in the hospital, Teddy started seeing 27s everywhere: on a nurse's clipboard, whenever he would check the time....this continued after we got home from the hospital. 27s popping up wherever he looked. When he went to get his Maxie tattoo, he realized he was connected to his little boy even more strongly than he ever imagined. Maxie is also connected to 27 by his birthdate (engraved now on Teddy's forearm) 10-7-10. 27 became even more powerful for Ted. He sees all of the 27s that follow him around as Maxie's way of letting him know that they are still together...that he is still around. Teddy thinks that I doubt him, that I think his interest with numbers is looney (please, have you been reading my blog? I am crazy with a big splash of OCD.....his fixation on a lucky number ain't got nothing on my bag of obsessions).
On Saturday night, our friend Erika came over for dinner. She and Ted had gone to find some patio furniture for our deck that day. Ted was telling her about 27 and all of the ways it shows up for us (because it honestly does....in fact, even though the doctor's due date for Baby M is July 25th, it comes up as the 27th based on his conception date. We found out Tuesday though that if he isn't here by the 25th though, I will be induced - so no 7-27 b-day is in the cards for Little M). I am not sure if Erika was buying the numbers stories, but if so, she didn't let on. She is one of those friends who has stood by us during this really dark time and indulged all of our stories. Erika and her husband Ian were in Las Vegas Sunday - Monday and Teddy asked her to bet $20 on 27 at the roulette table. He had very specific rules too: Only bet if 27 hasn't come up in a while, place your bet with a jovial dealer only, make it your first bet on the table ... Erika promised to follow the rules and guess what: Maxie came through for Teddy! Erika called us totally emotional on Sunday night to tell us that she followed Teddy's rules precisely and 27 hit right away, winning Teddy $700! The bet actually paid for our new patio furniture. How cool is that? I love that Teddy has a little numerical bond with his son and that it comes to visit him throughout the day. It's really special.
** By the way, I feel the need (of course) to clarify my post yesterday. I went back and edited it. I meant to be clear that I think my mom and I are hurt by our difficulties communicating in the midst of this grief. I wasn't talking about Ted and his mom. I worried that might be misinterpreted.
While Maxie was in the hospital, Teddy started seeing 27s everywhere: on a nurse's clipboard, whenever he would check the time....this continued after we got home from the hospital. 27s popping up wherever he looked. When he went to get his Maxie tattoo, he realized he was connected to his little boy even more strongly than he ever imagined. Maxie is also connected to 27 by his birthdate (engraved now on Teddy's forearm) 10-7-10. 27 became even more powerful for Ted. He sees all of the 27s that follow him around as Maxie's way of letting him know that they are still together...that he is still around. Teddy thinks that I doubt him, that I think his interest with numbers is looney (please, have you been reading my blog? I am crazy with a big splash of OCD.....his fixation on a lucky number ain't got nothing on my bag of obsessions).
On Saturday night, our friend Erika came over for dinner. She and Ted had gone to find some patio furniture for our deck that day. Ted was telling her about 27 and all of the ways it shows up for us (because it honestly does....in fact, even though the doctor's due date for Baby M is July 25th, it comes up as the 27th based on his conception date. We found out Tuesday though that if he isn't here by the 25th though, I will be induced - so no 7-27 b-day is in the cards for Little M). I am not sure if Erika was buying the numbers stories, but if so, she didn't let on. She is one of those friends who has stood by us during this really dark time and indulged all of our stories. Erika and her husband Ian were in Las Vegas Sunday - Monday and Teddy asked her to bet $20 on 27 at the roulette table. He had very specific rules too: Only bet if 27 hasn't come up in a while, place your bet with a jovial dealer only, make it your first bet on the table ... Erika promised to follow the rules and guess what: Maxie came through for Teddy! Erika called us totally emotional on Sunday night to tell us that she followed Teddy's rules precisely and 27 hit right away, winning Teddy $700! The bet actually paid for our new patio furniture. How cool is that? I love that Teddy has a little numerical bond with his son and that it comes to visit him throughout the day. It's really special.
** By the way, I feel the need (of course) to clarify my post yesterday. I went back and edited it. I meant to be clear that I think my mom and I are hurt by our difficulties communicating in the midst of this grief. I wasn't talking about Ted and his mom. I worried that might be misinterpreted.
Approaching Mother's Day
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
I have been dreading Mother's Day since the moment that my nine and a half months as a mother had come to an end. Mother's Day is now a day to memorialize what I've lost. It's day that screams at me, "You are not a MOTHER anymore!".
When I look back on last year's Mother's Day, I wish I had spent some time celebrating the fact that I was a mother. I wish that I had made more of a fuss that I, too, was now a mother. It was something that I felt excited about. I was thrilled that I was now an honored member of the society of motherhood. Teddy gave me the most wonderful card expressing his feelings about how terrific of a mother he thought I was. Last year, I obviously had no idea that I wouldn't have a Mother's Day again this year. It makes me crazy that I am not a mother to a baby that I can hold in my arms this Mother's Day. It makes me crazy that I am not with Max this Mother's Day. It is another holiday that makes the world spin wildly out of control for me.
Mother's Day is even harder for me this year because my relationship with my mother has been really hard since Maxie's passing. My mother is the most incredibly upbeat, positive person I know. This blow has really knocked her out. I have never had that super positive quality. I was fun and funny (if I do say so myself) but I have always been snarky and cynical. Max's birth brought out a optimism in me that I never even knew existed. Max's death killed all of that in me. It must be incredibly challenging for my mother to try and comfort a child who has lost a child. I cannot be cheered up. My whole reason for being is gone. She only wants to see us happy again and to feel happy herself. I can't promise that I will be happy again though. It just feels completely out of my reach. My intense grieving is something that not even our parents can 100% relate to, even though they are in deep grief as well. It has caused a rift and I think it hurts both of us (my mom and I). A hurt that we both feel is extra hard on top of having lost Max. You hear a lot about what happens to marriages after the death of a child, you don't hear a lot about how the rest of your familial relationships will be affected. I have talked to enough bereaved parents to know that what we are going through is not unusual. At least that is somewhat of a comfort.
When I look back on last year's Mother's Day, I wish I had spent some time celebrating the fact that I was a mother. I wish that I had made more of a fuss that I, too, was now a mother. It was something that I felt excited about. I was thrilled that I was now an honored member of the society of motherhood. Teddy gave me the most wonderful card expressing his feelings about how terrific of a mother he thought I was. Last year, I obviously had no idea that I wouldn't have a Mother's Day again this year. It makes me crazy that I am not a mother to a baby that I can hold in my arms this Mother's Day. It makes me crazy that I am not with Max this Mother's Day. It is another holiday that makes the world spin wildly out of control for me.
Mother's Day is even harder for me this year because my relationship with my mother has been really hard since Maxie's passing. My mother is the most incredibly upbeat, positive person I know. This blow has really knocked her out. I have never had that super positive quality. I was fun and funny (if I do say so myself) but I have always been snarky and cynical. Max's birth brought out a optimism in me that I never even knew existed. Max's death killed all of that in me. It must be incredibly challenging for my mother to try and comfort a child who has lost a child. I cannot be cheered up. My whole reason for being is gone. She only wants to see us happy again and to feel happy herself. I can't promise that I will be happy again though. It just feels completely out of my reach. My intense grieving is something that not even our parents can 100% relate to, even though they are in deep grief as well. It has caused a rift and I think it hurts both of us (my mom and I). A hurt that we both feel is extra hard on top of having lost Max. You hear a lot about what happens to marriages after the death of a child, you don't hear a lot about how the rest of your familial relationships will be affected. I have talked to enough bereaved parents to know that what we are going through is not unusual. At least that is somewhat of a comfort.
I am so happy to know that next Mother's Day, I will be a mother again. Mother's Day 2013 will come around just about 9 1/2 months after the birth of Baby M. A time that I can only imagine, I will be full of fear. Assuming we make it, I plan on really spending the day celebrating my motherhood and motherhood in general - something that I know that I cannot take for granted and never will again (though I hesitate writing "again" because I never took it for granted to begin with!!!) I hope to be able to spend at least part of the day just loving Baby M and feeling special and lucky that he is mine. I know I will spend another part of the day thinking about my Max and how much I miss him and how lucky I was to spend nine and half months with that little pumpkin. I will spend the rest of my life feeling heartbreak over losing him. I am just so endlessly heartbroken.
I am planning on skipping Mother's Day this year (again, selfish...I know. I am skipping all holidays this year though so it is equal opportunity). It isn't because I don't love my mother. I love her very much. She is an incredible person. I just can't do it this year. Mother's Day feels as sickening to me as Halloween did. I am praying with everything that I am that Mothers Day is a holiday I will never have to skip again. Maybe you can say a prayer for me too...or rather, for Baby M. Pray that he is here for all of the rest of the Mother's Days (and Father's Days, and Halloweens and Thanksgivings and Passovers) of our lives. Maybe if we start praying now, it will have a more intense cumulative effect. Baby M deserves what Maxie didn't get - to be happy and healthy with a long, long life. He deserves it (I sort of think Teddy and I - and our moms - do too).
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Oh my god! We lost Max! I just can't believe it. How did this happen? I can't stop crying. I can't believe that this actually happened. I can't believe that I will never kiss his face again. I can't believe that we will never go to Disneyland, or the Travel Town museum, or the park together! I am flooded with his absence. I am flooded with incredulous searing pain.
For the past few nights I have experienced some sleep apnea. Like my breathing just stopped and went dead. Only, it woke me up and I somehow corrected it. Is this what happened to my baby? What the hell happened to my baby? Why can nobody tell me what happened? I wrote about how much I don't like being called strong but I have to say, I have no choice! I guess I am strong. What freaking choice do I have? If I want to even get through this one miserable day, I have to be strong.
I don't even care anymore if I sound repetitive or if you wonder why I am not over this yet. Or if my sorrow pushed you away. I miss him deep in my blood. I miss him with a stronger feeling than I have ever felt for anything in my life. I wanted to protect him from everything and then he died. What kind of a mother does that make me? How have I been entrusted to do this again? I promise to be even more vigilant this time. I promise not to give myself any breaks. I promise to love him as much as I love his brother. Oh god! How can this be? How did we lose our Max?
For the past few nights I have experienced some sleep apnea. Like my breathing just stopped and went dead. Only, it woke me up and I somehow corrected it. Is this what happened to my baby? What the hell happened to my baby? Why can nobody tell me what happened? I wrote about how much I don't like being called strong but I have to say, I have no choice! I guess I am strong. What freaking choice do I have? If I want to even get through this one miserable day, I have to be strong.
I don't even care anymore if I sound repetitive or if you wonder why I am not over this yet. Or if my sorrow pushed you away. I miss him deep in my blood. I miss him with a stronger feeling than I have ever felt for anything in my life. I wanted to protect him from everything and then he died. What kind of a mother does that make me? How have I been entrusted to do this again? I promise to be even more vigilant this time. I promise not to give myself any breaks. I promise to love him as much as I love his brother. Oh god! How can this be? How did we lose our Max?
Murky Waters
Monday, May 7, 2012
Last night I dreamt about my babies, Maxie and Baby M. Baby M was born and looked JUST LIKE Maxie at 8 or 9 months old. "Thank god!", I thought. "He's back". I don't know how I lived without him this long. "Where did you go?", I asked him. He told me he just needed a little time out but that he was so happy to be back. I begged him not to leave me again. He promised he wouldn't. I kept begging, he kept promising. In the dream, I could hardly be consoled. Baby M kept falling asleep but I kept poking him and waking him back up. I was so afraid he would die. My eyes were hanging open but I was exhausted. It was really vivid. I woke up both happy that Max had come back and sad that I had to be so worried about him.
This dream (which I have had before and maybe even described here in the past) is so indicative of everything I feel. Relief that I will be a parent again, a hopeful feeling that Baby M will bring back a piece of Maxie (or a reminder of my love for him), anguish over the thought of losing him the way we lost Max, fear that Baby M will "leave me" like Max did. I just can't do these feelings any justice here. Suffice it to say, it is totally crazy making. Blame it on pregnancy hormones or grief or the real life trauma I have been living through all of these months - it is what it is.
When Baby M gets here, I have to try to tuck it all away as best I can. I want so badly to be the kind of mother to him that I was to Max. I think I was a really good mommy to Max (a fact that I find hard to reconcile with the fact that he died). I want to be just as good of a mommy to his little brother but with an entirely different outcome. What do people keep saying to me? That the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? Is that why I feel so insane? It makes me want to do everything different but I don't know where to start. Should I breastfeed? I did last time. Should I sleep train? I did last time. Should I make his food? I did last time. Should I vaccinate (rhetorical....the opinions on just this topic alone is enough to make any expecting mother crazy)? I did last time.
These waters are murky. There are no rules There were no rules with Max either but again, you'll just have to trust me, this is all much different after losing a child. I am terrified...and that isn't even strong enough of a sentiment to describe how I am feeling. Perhaps when Baby M gets here, it will all feel more clear. 78 days to go!
This dream (which I have had before and maybe even described here in the past) is so indicative of everything I feel. Relief that I will be a parent again, a hopeful feeling that Baby M will bring back a piece of Maxie (or a reminder of my love for him), anguish over the thought of losing him the way we lost Max, fear that Baby M will "leave me" like Max did. I just can't do these feelings any justice here. Suffice it to say, it is totally crazy making. Blame it on pregnancy hormones or grief or the real life trauma I have been living through all of these months - it is what it is.
When Baby M gets here, I have to try to tuck it all away as best I can. I want so badly to be the kind of mother to him that I was to Max. I think I was a really good mommy to Max (a fact that I find hard to reconcile with the fact that he died). I want to be just as good of a mommy to his little brother but with an entirely different outcome. What do people keep saying to me? That the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? Is that why I feel so insane? It makes me want to do everything different but I don't know where to start. Should I breastfeed? I did last time. Should I sleep train? I did last time. Should I make his food? I did last time. Should I vaccinate (rhetorical....the opinions on just this topic alone is enough to make any expecting mother crazy)? I did last time.
These waters are murky. There are no rules There were no rules with Max either but again, you'll just have to trust me, this is all much different after losing a child. I am terrified...and that isn't even strong enough of a sentiment to describe how I am feeling. Perhaps when Baby M gets here, it will all feel more clear. 78 days to go!
More Photos from Mexico
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Here are the rest of our photos from Mexico. We think the middle one looks like we are spies (which we kind of were).
Neck and neck
Saturday, May 5, 2012
I have two emotions that rule my life. Two emotions that I cannot get a break from. When one of these emotions settles down, even in the slightest, the other one must see the opportunity to come at me with unrelenting aggression. The two emotions are grief and fear and they are literally with me for all of my waking and resting hours.
I am in so much pain (and a total broken record...I recognize). But, OH, SO MUCH PAIN! I think I miss his cheeks most of all. I could have kissed them all day and all night. Sometimes his little cheeks were just wet with my kisses. I could not stop. When I think about him and those cheeks and every other part of him, I want to die. Honestly. Life is empty and nonsensical without him.
And the pain I feel about having lost Max is just slightly more than the fear I feel for Baby M. I am excited for him to get here. Really. I am counting down the days. But, I feel like he is safer inside of me. My fears are not unfounded. They are not illogical. They are deeply rooted in my reality. Maxie's death may not have been a fluke or a freak accident. It may have been genetic. So, I am SCARED. I am more excited about Baby M's first birthday than I am about his birth day. I can imagine real joy on that day! And, I still know that I will wake up the next day scared. At this stage, the fear far outweighs the excitement. It crashes in on my brain all day long in waves of terror.
Some days the two emotions are neck and neck. It's like a close horse race and I never can tell who is going to pull ahead. On a day where I am lucky enough to quiet the part of my brain that worries (incessantly) that Baby M won't make it, it frees up so much emotional space to grieve even harder for Max. On the days where I can't stop thinking about Baby M's future, I am able to quiet my grieving mind ever so slightly. The fear is as debilitating as the grief. I would sell my soul to have Max back. I would sell my soul to know what killed him.
I know I need to "trust" that everything will be ok. I don't remember how to trust. I have been reprogrammed. My "new normal" is an untrusting one. Although, I have always been wired to trust until I have been given reason not to. When I lose trust in something or someone, it takes years for me to learn to trust them again. If I've been hurt, I don't easily let it go. I don't trust that everything will be ok but I pray that it will be. Sadly, I stopped trusting prayer when Maxie died as well. Do you know how many people were praying for him? They prayed all over the United States. They even prayed in France and Israel and Mexico...and he still died.
I do believe that Baby M will bring us happiness and joy. I trust that. I am grateful for it. But, the little guy also brings a whole new level of fear with him. I will work to quiet the fear but from what I understand from other parents, it is just about the scariest thing in the world - having another child after your first one dies of SIDS (or cancer, or spina bifida, or any congenital defects or any other terrible thing that babies die from).
Still, I can't wait to get my lips on those cheeks. I hope they are as tasty as his brother's were. I hope that he smells just as delicious. I hope he smiles with his heart, like Max did. I hope he looks deep into my eyes and that we fall madly in love...and that we have dance parties in our living room, and we read books together and I can't wait for bath time to come back into our home. All of my hopes and dreams are all bundled into this one little bundle of a baby, all of our "eggs" are in this one little basket - so he just HAS to make it. RIGHT? I mean, he just HAS to. I would sell my soul for him to make it. And, it he does, it will be worth all of the fear and anxiety, because he is worth everything in the world to me already.
** The craziest thing just happened too. I went to read another momma blog that I check in on regularly and found such a similar sentiment posted. Truly, I am not alone in these feelings I have. Any of them: http://thebrokenroad-tiffany.blogspot.com/2012/05/only-rainbows-after-rain.html
Still, I can't wait to get my lips on those cheeks. I hope they are as tasty as his brother's were. I hope that he smells just as delicious. I hope he smiles with his heart, like Max did. I hope he looks deep into my eyes and that we fall madly in love...and that we have dance parties in our living room, and we read books together and I can't wait for bath time to come back into our home. All of my hopes and dreams are all bundled into this one little bundle of a baby, all of our "eggs" are in this one little basket - so he just HAS to make it. RIGHT? I mean, he just HAS to. I would sell my soul for him to make it. And, it he does, it will be worth all of the fear and anxiety, because he is worth everything in the world to me already.
** The craziest thing just happened too. I went to read another momma blog that I check in on regularly and found such a similar sentiment posted. Truly, I am not alone in these feelings I have. Any of them: http://thebrokenroad-tiffany.blogspot.com/2012/05/only-rainbows-after-rain.html
(Pregnant Wo)man vs. Food
Friday, May 4, 2012
I am SO hungry! SOOOOO hungry! Like, it's crazy. And, I sometimes feel like I am going to pass out from hunger immediately. The onset comes without warning and then I have to shove in as much food as possible to even stop the dizzies. I don't remember feeling like this with Max either. Could it be all of the calories that Baby M is burning? The last time I felt like this was when I did the AidsRide in 2001. We cycled for so many miles, I could not eat enough to keep up with the calories I was burning and it made me crazy hungry/sick. I did the ride with my friend Tamar. We laughed for many years about when I almost passed out on my bike and told this woman who stopped to help me that I was "so hungry! All I had for breakfast was eggs, cereal, hash browns, fruit and two Cliff Bars". "Oh Sweetie!", the woman replied, "You poor thing! You must be starving!"
When I go to the gym, I always seem to catch an episode of Man vs. Food on the tiny television attached to my treadmill. At the end of the show, the host has to tackle a food challenge. A gigantic four pound burrito or a gigantic plate of cheeseburgers and french fries. The payoff always sucks - like $100 and a t-shirt or something. He does it for bragging rights (and ratings). I often think, "I could do that. EASY!" I could too. I could take down pounds of crazy "challenge" food. No problemo! What's wrong with me? If I think I had trouble losing the baby weight after Max. I might be in big trouble this time around. Ted definitely got more than he bargained for with this lady - literally.
Also, there is truly something to be said for comfort food. After Ted and I left the cemetery on Sunday, we were on our way home. We were quiet, we were feeling broken and so sad, and he said, "Should we get ice cream?" "Definitely", I replied. There is a drive through Baskin Robbins on our corner. We both got 31 below soft serves with Oreos and other yummy stuff mixed in. It helped to ease the pain for the 10 minutes it took to eat. We go through a couple of dark chocolate bars over here each week as well. The sweet things take an edge off and are especially helpful for me -since I can't drink. I also decided early on not to take any anti-depressants. The sweets aren't the same thing as the extreme hunger issue that I described above but it probably isn't helping me to stay in the recommended "in the range" weight gain. If you knew me before, you knew I don't (didn't) even really have a sweet tooth...though, while I was pregnant with Max, I got hooked on frozen yogurt.
I don't know what I am telling you. I could use $100 and a t-shirt (XXL) as much as the next gal. So, If you happen to find an ice cream sundae challenge in the area- sign me up. I am good to go and I'm sure I could take down any worthy opponent.
When I go to the gym, I always seem to catch an episode of Man vs. Food on the tiny television attached to my treadmill. At the end of the show, the host has to tackle a food challenge. A gigantic four pound burrito or a gigantic plate of cheeseburgers and french fries. The payoff always sucks - like $100 and a t-shirt or something. He does it for bragging rights (and ratings). I often think, "I could do that. EASY!" I could too. I could take down pounds of crazy "challenge" food. No problemo! What's wrong with me? If I think I had trouble losing the baby weight after Max. I might be in big trouble this time around. Ted definitely got more than he bargained for with this lady - literally.
Also, there is truly something to be said for comfort food. After Ted and I left the cemetery on Sunday, we were on our way home. We were quiet, we were feeling broken and so sad, and he said, "Should we get ice cream?" "Definitely", I replied. There is a drive through Baskin Robbins on our corner. We both got 31 below soft serves with Oreos and other yummy stuff mixed in. It helped to ease the pain for the 10 minutes it took to eat. We go through a couple of dark chocolate bars over here each week as well. The sweet things take an edge off and are especially helpful for me -since I can't drink. I also decided early on not to take any anti-depressants. The sweets aren't the same thing as the extreme hunger issue that I described above but it probably isn't helping me to stay in the recommended "in the range" weight gain. If you knew me before, you knew I don't (didn't) even really have a sweet tooth...though, while I was pregnant with Max, I got hooked on frozen yogurt.
I don't know what I am telling you. I could use $100 and a t-shirt (XXL) as much as the next gal. So, If you happen to find an ice cream sundae challenge in the area- sign me up. I am good to go and I'm sure I could take down any worthy opponent.
Our latest projects
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Ted and I working on a few art projects. We are working on a big piece for Baby M's bedroom - it will be something for Baby M but also in memory of Max. The idea came from one of my blog readers. I think it will be really wonderful. I am making a baby board book (a book for babies on thick cardboard) about his big brother, Maxie. I want to introduce Maxie to Baby M early so he always knows that he has a big brother watching over him. There will be pictures of Maxie in the book and little things about him - Maxie likes to take baths, Maxie likes Greek Yogurt...you get the picture. I am also working on Baby M's baby scrap book - it will be filled with photos of Ted and I, ultrasound photos, and other announcements and stuff from his birth. Here are a few shots of Maxie's book.
Trees and Israel Bond for Maxie
Ted has been quietly working on a project of his own. One that he didn't even tell me he has been working on for several weeks. He didn't want to upset me.
Ted has been working on designing Maxie's headstone. The thought brings me to my knees. Maxie will have a headstone - because he is dead. I hate that this is our reality.
My sweet husband has been coming up with the language and artwork to honor and memorialize his child's life. His child, whom he loved more than life itself. It hurts my heart and I know it has been incredibly emotional for him. He wants it to be perfect because his son is/was so precious to him - his very reason for being. He left me out to start because he wanted to protect me. Ted is the most incredible man I have ever known. He sits in the other room at his computer with his face hanging sadly. With his heart in his throat, I am sure, diligently designing the stone that will cover his son's grave. It is heartbreaking. How can I be so blessed to have Ted and at the same time SO cursed to have lost Max?
We visited the cemetery on Sunday. Ted wanted to look at the various headstones to get an idea of how they look over time. It was the first time I had been there in several months. It rips my heart out to go there. When we go to the cemetery, Ted always tells the guard at the gate that "We are here to visit our son". The sentence hangs in my mind - I can't even fathom its meaning. There was a fresh grave being covered up with grass a few spots over from Max. Max's area was tented from a recent funeral, which gave us some shade. The special stones and rocks that have been put on his temporary marker are still there. There are several pinwheels, still in the ground. My heart sank deep into my stomach the minute we drove up. I sat there for a while, talking to Max, crying tears that came from deep in my soul. How could the little monkey that lived inside of me, that I gave birth to, be lying in a box under this ground?
Later, while Ted walked around the cemetery looking at headstones, I got up and walked to my grandparents graves. I wasn't sure what to say to them. I am trying to censor myself on this blog these days so I am not going to tell you everything that I was thinking. Some thoughts however are: Are they protecting Maxie? Are they with him? How did this all happen? I've heard a lot of stories in these past months about people dying and then coming back to life knowing that their deceased great- aunt or other relative "saved them" and sent them back to the living. Without getting into it, I sometimes wonder where my deceased relatives were when they saw my baby was about to join them. (I'm not censoring enough - go ahead and get mad.)
When I ran into Ted again, back by Maxie's grave, he suggested we go up to visit my grandparents. He picked a nice stone from Maxie's grave and we walked up there together. We asked them to take care of Maxie. I told them silently that I miss them. It was good we went back up.
Ted had come to a decision about the material that we will use for the headstone. He has nearly finalized the design. We will be unveiling Maxie's headstone in a private ceremony in June. I really hate feeling like this. I am being careful not to drag you in too deeply - but the feeling in my heart around all of this (and really - ALL OF THIS) is SO heavy. I am so grateful to have Ted as my husband. I am so grateful that he is talented and artistic. I am so grateful that Maxie has such a good daddy.
Pictures of Maxie in the womb
Card from Auntie Beth and Sadie and a card from my
darling husband
Ted has been working on designing Maxie's headstone. The thought brings me to my knees. Maxie will have a headstone - because he is dead. I hate that this is our reality.
My sweet husband has been coming up with the language and artwork to honor and memorialize his child's life. His child, whom he loved more than life itself. It hurts my heart and I know it has been incredibly emotional for him. He wants it to be perfect because his son is/was so precious to him - his very reason for being. He left me out to start because he wanted to protect me. Ted is the most incredible man I have ever known. He sits in the other room at his computer with his face hanging sadly. With his heart in his throat, I am sure, diligently designing the stone that will cover his son's grave. It is heartbreaking. How can I be so blessed to have Ted and at the same time SO cursed to have lost Max?
We visited the cemetery on Sunday. Ted wanted to look at the various headstones to get an idea of how they look over time. It was the first time I had been there in several months. It rips my heart out to go there. When we go to the cemetery, Ted always tells the guard at the gate that "We are here to visit our son". The sentence hangs in my mind - I can't even fathom its meaning. There was a fresh grave being covered up with grass a few spots over from Max. Max's area was tented from a recent funeral, which gave us some shade. The special stones and rocks that have been put on his temporary marker are still there. There are several pinwheels, still in the ground. My heart sank deep into my stomach the minute we drove up. I sat there for a while, talking to Max, crying tears that came from deep in my soul. How could the little monkey that lived inside of me, that I gave birth to, be lying in a box under this ground?
Later, while Ted walked around the cemetery looking at headstones, I got up and walked to my grandparents graves. I wasn't sure what to say to them. I am trying to censor myself on this blog these days so I am not going to tell you everything that I was thinking. Some thoughts however are: Are they protecting Maxie? Are they with him? How did this all happen? I've heard a lot of stories in these past months about people dying and then coming back to life knowing that their deceased great- aunt or other relative "saved them" and sent them back to the living. Without getting into it, I sometimes wonder where my deceased relatives were when they saw my baby was about to join them. (I'm not censoring enough - go ahead and get mad.)
When I ran into Ted again, back by Maxie's grave, he suggested we go up to visit my grandparents. He picked a nice stone from Maxie's grave and we walked up there together. We asked them to take care of Maxie. I told them silently that I miss them. It was good we went back up.
Ted had come to a decision about the material that we will use for the headstone. He has nearly finalized the design. We will be unveiling Maxie's headstone in a private ceremony in June. I really hate feeling like this. I am being careful not to drag you in too deeply - but the feeling in my heart around all of this (and really - ALL OF THIS) is SO heavy. I am so grateful to have Ted as my husband. I am so grateful that he is talented and artistic. I am so grateful that Maxie has such a good daddy.
What's going on in there?
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
All hopes I had for a Maxie reincarnation baby were totally wiped out when I started feeling this baby's kicks. Baby M is ACTIVE! No joke. Maxie moved but his movements were smooth. He definitely hiccuped a lot, both before and after birth. My favorite thing was that when I would touch my stomach, a little push would reach up from the inside of me and meet my touch. We had an E.T. kind of thing going on.
Baby M is enjoying Zumba in the womb. He jabs and kicks and basically rocks out all of the time. It is kind of crazy actually. I wonder if people can see him dancing under my shirt.
I wonder what this means about the Baby M we will meet in July. Will he just be a wild child? It would probably be nice to be kept on my toes... Ted and I always said that we had it too easy with Max. Our next one was bound to be pretty rambunctious. Sometimes I think it is his way of saying, "Hey mom! Stop crying! We are going to have so much fun when I get out there". Or, maybe he is saying, "Yo, you might want to rethink your plans of becoming the next Octo-mom". My Baby M - I can't wait to meet you little peanut!
Baby M is enjoying Zumba in the womb. He jabs and kicks and basically rocks out all of the time. It is kind of crazy actually. I wonder if people can see him dancing under my shirt.
I wonder what this means about the Baby M we will meet in July. Will he just be a wild child? It would probably be nice to be kept on my toes... Ted and I always said that we had it too easy with Max. Our next one was bound to be pretty rambunctious. Sometimes I think it is his way of saying, "Hey mom! Stop crying! We are going to have so much fun when I get out there". Or, maybe he is saying, "Yo, you might want to rethink your plans of becoming the next Octo-mom". My Baby M - I can't wait to meet you little peanut!
Flawed
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
It's time to change my tone. I think I tried this once or twice before but when I fell back into the pit, so did my tone. The truth is, I am not really mad at anyone for saying or doing anything....well, I might be kind of mad at a few people but I assure you - they don't read my blog. I often vent here about people who I know aren't reading it anyway. It is both satisfying and unsatisfying at the same time. There are those who then do read my blog (a sign of support in and of itself) who always think I am directing my anger towards them. That really gets me nowhere.
I thought being open enough to write about what it is REALLY like in this life of mine would be a "good" thing. I was mistaken. I thought other parents who have lost their children might say "I am thinking that too!". Perhaps that has happened. Perhaps not. I also thought I would look back one day and say "I've come so far." Sadly, I haven't come that far yet so maybe my journal is the best place to write those really real thoughts I have. The fact is that my life remains incredibly dark and telling readers about it has the potential to make people angry and defensive. I have done enough of that and honestly, Maxie's death is my burden to bear...not yours.
I will try again to change my tone. I will try to keep my anger to myself and share only the stuff that is appropriate for the public. I will try to share my journey without bringing you on my journey with me. There is no need for all of us to suffer. I am in so much pain already, I shouldn't be opening myself up or causing any more pain than there already is. I will do my best but I am sure I will have dark days of weakness, where I will fail, where I will express my anger and then regret it again. I am also only human, like you.
I am ashamed that I have told you my darkest thoughts...but I am flawed. I was flawed as a mother, I am flawed as a friend, I am flawed as a daughter, I am flawed as a wife, and I am flawed now, in my grief. As the commenter in the post I wrote below says, I should just be happy to be with anyone who will sit with this flawed woman. Thank you so much to everyone who has done just that. You have helped some of the days go by and helped me to forget my sorrows, even if for just moments at a time.
I thought being open enough to write about what it is REALLY like in this life of mine would be a "good" thing. I was mistaken. I thought other parents who have lost their children might say "I am thinking that too!". Perhaps that has happened. Perhaps not. I also thought I would look back one day and say "I've come so far." Sadly, I haven't come that far yet so maybe my journal is the best place to write those really real thoughts I have. The fact is that my life remains incredibly dark and telling readers about it has the potential to make people angry and defensive. I have done enough of that and honestly, Maxie's death is my burden to bear...not yours.
I will try again to change my tone. I will try to keep my anger to myself and share only the stuff that is appropriate for the public. I will try to share my journey without bringing you on my journey with me. There is no need for all of us to suffer. I am in so much pain already, I shouldn't be opening myself up or causing any more pain than there already is. I will do my best but I am sure I will have dark days of weakness, where I will fail, where I will express my anger and then regret it again. I am also only human, like you.
I am ashamed that I have told you my darkest thoughts...but I am flawed. I was flawed as a mother, I am flawed as a friend, I am flawed as a daughter, I am flawed as a wife, and I am flawed now, in my grief. As the commenter in the post I wrote below says, I should just be happy to be with anyone who will sit with this flawed woman. Thank you so much to everyone who has done just that. You have helped some of the days go by and helped me to forget my sorrows, even if for just moments at a time.
I'm Sorry
Monday, April 30, 2012
I am told that perhaps my post below was too harsh. Perhaps it was. I am sorry about that. I think that the comment made on the blog is probably true. Perhaps people don't feel comfortable to express themselves so it is easier to tell me the empathetic things that their children say. I know that I can be just as insensitive as the next person. I actually don't expect people to know that the things that they say hurt me. People are often surprised by what hurts me. I am often surprised by what hurts me. Perhaps it is because I suffered the grief of not knowing if I would meet the right person, get to have children, have my own family...that I feel so hurt by those people who had it all way before me still having it while I don't. I am jealous. Crazy jealous. And, I can't figure out what you did right that I did wrong. You should be proud of your family and the wonderful, emotionally intelligent children that you have. I would be proud if they were mine.
Your adorable children
You know I love your children. Many of you started having them years ago and I loved them right away! I have played with them, babysat them, brought presents to them, and driven miles over the years to see them (I mean you ;)). I have been to their baby showers and birthday parties. You know that I love them, but taking this break from them over the last nine months has been very important to me. Please know that I don't love them any less.
Thank you for understanding. Thank you for telling me about your baby shower or child's birthday party instead of just sending the invitation (I bought you the present anyway...of course....I am not a monster!). I know you didn't want to leave me out and weren't sure what to do. It was compassionate to ask. I opened an invitation recently and it took my breath away. I know it was sent because the sender loves me and didn't want to "leave me out" but, please know - I am ok with being left out. I have been purposely leaving myself out for months. Thank you for compassionately leaving us off of your Christmas card list. It was a relief not getting reminders of the joyous season. We did get one set of hand drawn pictures from some cousins, which I had to immediately throw away. Sorry! It was too much - scrawly drawings of Maxie as an angel and Ted and I standing sadly (I think even with tears) underneath. Oh my goodness - totally way more terrible than a photo of the family would have been. Thank you for not talking about how cute your kids are or all of the wonderful things they are saying. Believe me - I KNOW how hard it is to resist. Thank you for keeping your worries about their sniffly noses and 24 hour flus out of our conversation. You must know that I envy even the poopy diapers and the late nights with no sleep.
I know that many of you have children who know about our losing Maxie. I know how impossible it is to explain to a child why a baby died. Heck, I don't understand at all how I actually live in a world where babies die....where MY baby died. It shouldn't be this way. I know your kids say "the darnedest things" about Maxie being in heaven and Maxie being an angel and so much more. I know you love to share with me how cute it is that your living child said something about our baby who died. It guts me. Unless your child "sees dead people" ala "The Sixth Sense" (because I even like toddler medium/psychics) - I don't really want to know about it at this time. I might in the future because I truly believe children are more empathetic than adults. There is a sense of loss they feel around Maxie's passing that most adults are too guarded to feel. Sometimes what you are telling me is less cute and more poignant - as in the case of a story my fellow SIDS mommy friend, Katie, told me about her daughter kissing Maxie's photo on the computer screen. Her daughter lost a little brother and so she is in the same boat with us - grieving. Poor baby! Somehow her story was comforting and not painful. Beth told me something profound that Sadie said, right after I found out I was pregnant with Baby M. Sadie, without even knowing I was pregnant, said something like "Auntie Abby is gonna have another baby soon and then she won't be so sad". It felt like Maxie had whispered it into her ear while she was sleeping. Sadie and Max had a beautiful relationship so - I'll take it! Sadie loved Max! Also touching was my niece Mandy, who after Maxie's passing, cried for weeks and wanted to visit him at the cemetery all of the time. Talk about heart breaking. But, to know that Mandy loved Max so deeply touched my soul. She was able to express a love and longing for Maxie that nearly no adult member of our family has been able to do. I am very happy that Maxie was so loved by his cousins. It is one of the many blessings of his very short life.
Most of the time, the super cute stuff your kid says about my kid's death is shocking to me, even if I smile and say, "oh, that's hard" or "I'm sorry. That sounds tough to explain". I am just being nice. What I am really thinking is "Holy Sh**! Make it stop. Make it stop." It is SO painful. It was shocking to see the scribble of a little child's signature in Maxie's funeral guest book and it is shocking to hear the stories of your kids trying to make sense out of Maxie's death. I am sorry for the lessons you have had to teach your child so early, I am sorry for the lessons I have had to learn, but please try to leave me out of it. One woman I know has been trying to compare her grief to mine since Maxie stopped breathing by talking about how hard it is to explain Maxie's death to her son. I know her son misses Max but I bet I miss Max more. It is too painful for me to listen to and I know this woman cannot expect my sympathy (but she does). I have to be the insensitive one again and say that I think you will figure it out. Whatever you say will be just fine. Having to explain death to your child is hard, I am sure, but having to lose your child to death is one thousand times HARDER - I promise.
And one other thing (and enough of people have said it to me at this point that I think it is safe to say that I am not pointing my finger at anyone in particular) - not having met the right person to have children with and being sad about not knowing what the future holds is indeed a grief. I have had it myself. You wonder if having a family is in the cards for you, when you have imagined your whole life that OF COURSE it would be. Not having had that opportunity yet is not the same as watching your child die and not having him/her here anymore -just as feeling lonely when I was single was not the same grief as the grief of someone who had lost a husband. Death and extreme disappointment are not the same. I can relate to your grief because I am a human being but it is not a comparable experience. So, you can tell me about it but don't tell me about it in the context of your relating to my loss. It is just one more thing that isn't at all the same.
I know I have so many rules. My life is out of control and I am just trying to give a different perspective to you and also trying protect my husband and I from some of the stuff that has been the most hurtful. I know it feels like there is so much that is off limits. I guess there is just a never ending stream of hurtful things one can say and do to a bereaved parent. Lucky for us, most of the people who just can't follow what their heart says is appropriate have fallen by the side of the road anyway. Most of the people left in our lives are people who are intuitive enough to know how to be sensitive with our grief (and to treat us like human beings who have lost the most important thing in our whole lives). Mostly, we are surrounded (not physically but emotionally) by people who are very sensitive. Still, this particular issue of your children keeps slipping through the cracks. I am not mad at anyone for saying the wrong thing or inappropriately bringing your child around us unnecessarily. Maybe you really didn't know that it would hurt us until I just told you. Consider yourself informed. We probably should have put a stop to it long ago but didn't. Even the most sensitive friends tell me about how cute it is that their living kid is talking about my non-living kid. Honestly, it isn't that much different than you telling me how you hug your kid a little tighter. It is all pieces of that part of you that want to show me what you have and I don't. Trust me, I am fully aware. Part of me agrees that it is sweet but my heart cannot take it anymore. It just can't. Pretty soon, we will have a new baby boy and, as selfish as it sounds, I think it may not be until then that we are able to welcome back all of the little people we love into our lives again. I think Baby M will help soften the blow. Even then however, we will want you to be sensitive. Thank you, as always, for understanding.
Thank you for understanding. Thank you for telling me about your baby shower or child's birthday party instead of just sending the invitation (I bought you the present anyway...of course....I am not a monster!). I know you didn't want to leave me out and weren't sure what to do. It was compassionate to ask. I opened an invitation recently and it took my breath away. I know it was sent because the sender loves me and didn't want to "leave me out" but, please know - I am ok with being left out. I have been purposely leaving myself out for months. Thank you for compassionately leaving us off of your Christmas card list. It was a relief not getting reminders of the joyous season. We did get one set of hand drawn pictures from some cousins, which I had to immediately throw away. Sorry! It was too much - scrawly drawings of Maxie as an angel and Ted and I standing sadly (I think even with tears) underneath. Oh my goodness - totally way more terrible than a photo of the family would have been. Thank you for not talking about how cute your kids are or all of the wonderful things they are saying. Believe me - I KNOW how hard it is to resist. Thank you for keeping your worries about their sniffly noses and 24 hour flus out of our conversation. You must know that I envy even the poopy diapers and the late nights with no sleep.
I know that many of you have children who know about our losing Maxie. I know how impossible it is to explain to a child why a baby died. Heck, I don't understand at all how I actually live in a world where babies die....where MY baby died. It shouldn't be this way. I know your kids say "the darnedest things" about Maxie being in heaven and Maxie being an angel and so much more. I know you love to share with me how cute it is that your living child said something about our baby who died. It guts me. Unless your child "sees dead people" ala "The Sixth Sense" (because I even like toddler medium/psychics) - I don't really want to know about it at this time. I might in the future because I truly believe children are more empathetic than adults. There is a sense of loss they feel around Maxie's passing that most adults are too guarded to feel. Sometimes what you are telling me is less cute and more poignant - as in the case of a story my fellow SIDS mommy friend, Katie, told me about her daughter kissing Maxie's photo on the computer screen. Her daughter lost a little brother and so she is in the same boat with us - grieving. Poor baby! Somehow her story was comforting and not painful. Beth told me something profound that Sadie said, right after I found out I was pregnant with Baby M. Sadie, without even knowing I was pregnant, said something like "Auntie Abby is gonna have another baby soon and then she won't be so sad". It felt like Maxie had whispered it into her ear while she was sleeping. Sadie and Max had a beautiful relationship so - I'll take it! Sadie loved Max! Also touching was my niece Mandy, who after Maxie's passing, cried for weeks and wanted to visit him at the cemetery all of the time. Talk about heart breaking. But, to know that Mandy loved Max so deeply touched my soul. She was able to express a love and longing for Maxie that nearly no adult member of our family has been able to do. I am very happy that Maxie was so loved by his cousins. It is one of the many blessings of his very short life.
Most of the time, the super cute stuff your kid says about my kid's death is shocking to me, even if I smile and say, "oh, that's hard" or "I'm sorry. That sounds tough to explain". I am just being nice. What I am really thinking is "Holy Sh**! Make it stop. Make it stop." It is SO painful. It was shocking to see the scribble of a little child's signature in Maxie's funeral guest book and it is shocking to hear the stories of your kids trying to make sense out of Maxie's death. I am sorry for the lessons you have had to teach your child so early, I am sorry for the lessons I have had to learn, but please try to leave me out of it. One woman I know has been trying to compare her grief to mine since Maxie stopped breathing by talking about how hard it is to explain Maxie's death to her son. I know her son misses Max but I bet I miss Max more. It is too painful for me to listen to and I know this woman cannot expect my sympathy (but she does). I have to be the insensitive one again and say that I think you will figure it out. Whatever you say will be just fine. Having to explain death to your child is hard, I am sure, but having to lose your child to death is one thousand times HARDER - I promise.
And one other thing (and enough of people have said it to me at this point that I think it is safe to say that I am not pointing my finger at anyone in particular) - not having met the right person to have children with and being sad about not knowing what the future holds is indeed a grief. I have had it myself. You wonder if having a family is in the cards for you, when you have imagined your whole life that OF COURSE it would be. Not having had that opportunity yet is not the same as watching your child die and not having him/her here anymore -just as feeling lonely when I was single was not the same grief as the grief of someone who had lost a husband. Death and extreme disappointment are not the same. I can relate to your grief because I am a human being but it is not a comparable experience. So, you can tell me about it but don't tell me about it in the context of your relating to my loss. It is just one more thing that isn't at all the same.
I know I have so many rules. My life is out of control and I am just trying to give a different perspective to you and also trying protect my husband and I from some of the stuff that has been the most hurtful. I know it feels like there is so much that is off limits. I guess there is just a never ending stream of hurtful things one can say and do to a bereaved parent. Lucky for us, most of the people who just can't follow what their heart says is appropriate have fallen by the side of the road anyway. Most of the people left in our lives are people who are intuitive enough to know how to be sensitive with our grief (and to treat us like human beings who have lost the most important thing in our whole lives). Mostly, we are surrounded (not physically but emotionally) by people who are very sensitive. Still, this particular issue of your children keeps slipping through the cracks. I am not mad at anyone for saying the wrong thing or inappropriately bringing your child around us unnecessarily. Maybe you really didn't know that it would hurt us until I just told you. Consider yourself informed. We probably should have put a stop to it long ago but didn't. Even the most sensitive friends tell me about how cute it is that their living kid is talking about my non-living kid. Honestly, it isn't that much different than you telling me how you hug your kid a little tighter. It is all pieces of that part of you that want to show me what you have and I don't. Trust me, I am fully aware. Part of me agrees that it is sweet but my heart cannot take it anymore. It just can't. Pretty soon, we will have a new baby boy and, as selfish as it sounds, I think it may not be until then that we are able to welcome back all of the little people we love into our lives again. I think Baby M will help soften the blow. Even then however, we will want you to be sensitive. Thank you, as always, for understanding.
A Mother's Love
Sunday, April 29, 2012
I know my obsession with mediums and life after death has got to seem to many like pure craziness. Like I have lost my mind to a certain extent. Perhaps I have. I have definitely lost my heart. My heart, which became so full when little Maxie got here, was stepped on and squashed and spit on. Like it was nothing. And, for a long time, I thought about joining Max. I still cannot wait to be with him again. But I am here and he is "there"...wherever that may be.
And, for some parents, that is enough. Either they "know" there is nothing else and they are working to come to grips with never, ever seeing their child again. Or, they "know" that their god saves, and therefore they will be reunited in his heavenly kingdom. Or, they just "know" like Ted and I do, that there is something else...but we don't know what it is. Ted has more faith than I do, believe it or not. He is not a skeptic in the slightest. He just "knows" that we will be with Max again. I envy him. He doesn't need to search. He just needs to wait until the time has come and he is reunited with his baby boy. I am pretty sure he is right and that time will come, but I don't have the patience to wait. And, again, though I wish it weren't true, I am skeptical. I worry that when you are dead, you are dead. Painful.
Still, I knew with absolute certainty when Max was about four months old that I had known him always. Not just because I loved him deeply, but because I could feel the very essence of who he was deep in the fiber of my being. It's inexplicable. Some people tell me all parents feel this way. Other people tell me that they didn't feel like that with their children. I've never felt anything like it before but it went way beyond the boundaries of what I knew of relationships, family and love. It went way beyond what I knew to be true of the world we live in and how I have always made sense of it. I felt our connectedness on a spiritual level that was so much bigger than anything I have words for. Experiencing that deep connection leads me to believe that there is more than I can understand in this world. Not sure why. It is this that has led me on a search to find my boy. If it takes the rest of my lifetime, I will find him again. I would cross the moon and the stars and the whole entirety of the universe to be with Max again. And, once I get him back, I will cling to him with all that I am. (My friend Eowyn just bought us the book "Wherever you go, my love will find you" - I WILL find him. I am totally devoted to him for eternity).
So, I have just given in, knowing that I will be visiting mediums and gurus and past life regressionists and after death communicators and ANYONE at all who can give me some peace. I have been warned to tread lightly. This can be an addiction like gambling in some ways - addicted to the good feelings that come from an accurate reading...saddened by the feelings that come from a bad one....and then more determined than ever to connect again. Eventually I may be draped in crystals and smell like the heavy scent of lavender or patchouli oil. My nieces might think of me as their "Crazy Aunt Abby". I might start talking about astral visits and astrological signs. I will try to temper it with some good old self deprecation and irony to make it an easier pill for you all to swallow. And - I promise to keep shaving. Have I gone crazy? For sure. Do I care? Not at all. Nothing matters more to me than my baby and I will search for him for as long as it takes until I either find him here on earth or I finally get to where he is. That is a mother's love.
*** On a related side note. In addition to the beautiful quilt we received from Emalee on Thursday, I also received something in the mail that I believe was a sign from Maxie saying "I DO want to talk to you Mommy! I love you! Thank you for trying so hard to be with me again. I am trying to connect to you as much as you are trying to connect to me! We will find each other Mommy!" I have chosen to believe this....that Max wants me as much as I want him. I know we will find each other and I am committed to continuing my search for him until that happens. I love you Max with all that I am and I will never, ever give up.
And, for some parents, that is enough. Either they "know" there is nothing else and they are working to come to grips with never, ever seeing their child again. Or, they "know" that their god saves, and therefore they will be reunited in his heavenly kingdom. Or, they just "know" like Ted and I do, that there is something else...but we don't know what it is. Ted has more faith than I do, believe it or not. He is not a skeptic in the slightest. He just "knows" that we will be with Max again. I envy him. He doesn't need to search. He just needs to wait until the time has come and he is reunited with his baby boy. I am pretty sure he is right and that time will come, but I don't have the patience to wait. And, again, though I wish it weren't true, I am skeptical. I worry that when you are dead, you are dead. Painful.
Still, I knew with absolute certainty when Max was about four months old that I had known him always. Not just because I loved him deeply, but because I could feel the very essence of who he was deep in the fiber of my being. It's inexplicable. Some people tell me all parents feel this way. Other people tell me that they didn't feel like that with their children. I've never felt anything like it before but it went way beyond the boundaries of what I knew of relationships, family and love. It went way beyond what I knew to be true of the world we live in and how I have always made sense of it. I felt our connectedness on a spiritual level that was so much bigger than anything I have words for. Experiencing that deep connection leads me to believe that there is more than I can understand in this world. Not sure why. It is this that has led me on a search to find my boy. If it takes the rest of my lifetime, I will find him again. I would cross the moon and the stars and the whole entirety of the universe to be with Max again. And, once I get him back, I will cling to him with all that I am. (My friend Eowyn just bought us the book "Wherever you go, my love will find you" - I WILL find him. I am totally devoted to him for eternity).
So, I have just given in, knowing that I will be visiting mediums and gurus and past life regressionists and after death communicators and ANYONE at all who can give me some peace. I have been warned to tread lightly. This can be an addiction like gambling in some ways - addicted to the good feelings that come from an accurate reading...saddened by the feelings that come from a bad one....and then more determined than ever to connect again. Eventually I may be draped in crystals and smell like the heavy scent of lavender or patchouli oil. My nieces might think of me as their "Crazy Aunt Abby". I might start talking about astral visits and astrological signs. I will try to temper it with some good old self deprecation and irony to make it an easier pill for you all to swallow. And - I promise to keep shaving. Have I gone crazy? For sure. Do I care? Not at all. Nothing matters more to me than my baby and I will search for him for as long as it takes until I either find him here on earth or I finally get to where he is. That is a mother's love.
*** On a related side note. In addition to the beautiful quilt we received from Emalee on Thursday, I also received something in the mail that I believe was a sign from Maxie saying "I DO want to talk to you Mommy! I love you! Thank you for trying so hard to be with me again. I am trying to connect to you as much as you are trying to connect to me! We will find each other Mommy!" I have chosen to believe this....that Max wants me as much as I want him. I know we will find each other and I am committed to continuing my search for him until that happens. I love you Max with all that I am and I will never, ever give up.
The final stretch
Saturday, April 28, 2012
I am very protective of this pregnancy and Baby M. You can't imagine how conflicted I feel talking about him. My heart is so wrapped up in him already. I am so attached. But, I don't really want to talk about it with you. I have been so alone in my grief since losing Max that I don't want to let anyone in (except here) and when I do let people in, I sometimes regret it, as I have mentioned. They are insensitive or like to "Pollyanna" the whole conversation. I don't want Baby M to be a tool in anyone's grief minimizing ways. I don't want Baby M to be what you use to get yourself off the hook. I am not having him to make you more comfortable (I know you are smart enough to know that but still.....) He is my world. He, like his brother before him, is the most important thing in my life and I can barely stand the people who don't grieve with me over Max, fawning all over the idea of Baby M coming. It's so awkward when people talk about Baby M and don't mention Max. Honestly, I feel awkward for them. Again, one of those things that may not make sense to an outsider, but is how I feel. As I have mentioned, it takes a lot of "letting go" and deep breathing for me to even picture Baby M living a long and healthy life (that is rightfully his!), so the way that idea comes so easy to everyone else sometimes feels like a slap in my face...after all, I am the Mommy. All I want in the whole world is for Baby M to be safe and for Ted and I to experience the joy of parenting him until our last days here on earth. I could go on and on but suffice it to say, it's complicated.
My friend Greg emailed me the other day to say he thought I should address Baby M's arrival on my blog ("not that you are taking requests for content, like a radio show or something", he said). But, he felt confused and imagined others might also. Is he allowed to be excited about Baby M? Can he buy Baby M presents and take his picture? Will I want people to visit Baby M and hold him and stuff? Good questions. Not sure I have the answers for all of these things but it is time to address them because yesterday marked the first day of my third trimester. The next three months will fly by (for everyone but me....more on that later). First of all, we are very excited about Baby M. We love him. He is a dream come true. Truly. So, yes, celebrate him! Can you buy him presents? Sure...but maybe wait just a little longer. I am scared. PLEASE take his picture (and in fact, I keep writing this, but if you have ANY photos of Max you haven't shared with us...please do! They would be the best gift of all). Take his picture, take video, and SHARE THEM! I kick myself everyday that I don't have more photos of Max.
Please be excited for us about Baby M but try to keep it in your mind that Baby M's arrival doesn't cancel out our missing Max. It doesn't. Upon hearing the news of my pregnancy, more than one person said, "See? I told you everything would be ok." Ugh. I don't think I really need to reiterate that it still isn't "ok". Never will be. Please remember that Baby M is due the week after we will be commemorating the one year anniversary of our losing Max. Please find it in your heart to acknowledge that. I imagine that it will be a very tough time for us, even though Baby M's arrival will coincide. I have a hard time every day knowing that I while I am counting down the days until he gets here, the same clock is running toward the anniversary of our worst days (July 19-21). It is a blessing and a curse. I am not sure how up for visitors we will be, but Baby M will be a little Jewish boy and he will have a bris just like his brother did. We hope our friends and family will come to the bris and at least get to meet him there. I am not sure if I will feel comfortable passing him around like I did with Maxie at his bris. I am already overprotective of him. That's probably how it will be for a while. I imagine that my back will hurt even more after Baby M gets here. I'll have to really utilize my baby carriers often and correctly.
The next three months feel like an eternity. I have to believe that when Baby M gets here, life will be better than it is now. Although I am working, I am at home alone and the days go by so slowly. I take breaks often because I am too sad to concentrate. I spend all day counting down the hours until Ted gets home and all week counting down the days until the weekend because the time goes a little quicker when Ted is around. Sometimes we find out at the last minute that Ted has to work over the weekend (like today). All of a sudden, I am home alone for another whole day. Coming up with a plan to make the day go by is overwhelming. I could work (doesn't make the day go by quicker). I could watch tv (makes the day go slower in most cases). I could leave my house (to go where? Plus, there are babies everywhere). I can go to the gym (I try to go throughout the week but I can't really walk on the treadmill for more than 40 minutes or so before the round ligament pain starts to be too much). I don't feel comfortable going to a prenatal yoga class, which makes me sad. I SO looked forward to my prenatal class with Max each week (I don't want any moms asking me the dreaded questions - is it my first? Oh, it isn't, do you have a boy or a girl? How old is he? I don't need to feel worse or scare the daylights out of any other pregnant moms). I can go get a $25 foot massage (that only takes up an hour and I just did it yesterday). Honestly, I need a new hobby or something. I tried knitting - it didn't stick. I feel a biological NEED to "nest" but I can't. Nesting would mean going into Maxie's room and getting it ready for Baby M. The thought is suffocating. I am not ready to start buying him anything or going through Maxie's clothes or going through Maxie's things. I can't read about the latest breastfeeding pillows or other cool gear or go to a Baby's R Us to buy any of it. Ignoring this biological urge to prepare for a baby is super painful. I spent the entire second half of my pregnancy with Max getting stuff together - putting together a registry, looking for a crib, reading baby books. This time all I've bought the baby is a Snuza breathing monitor that will attach to his diaper so that an alarm will go off if he ever stops breathing for more than 15 seconds. I am looking for a new hobby - a way to kill time - something, anything to help me pass the next three months quicker than I have passed the last nine. Please! I am taking any and all suggestions.
While I am on the topic of suggestions - I am looking for a few more:
1) I am getting a Maxie tattoo. Ideally, I want to get it before Baby M gets here. I am hoping to find a tattoo artist who can help me design my vision because I can't find anything online and I am not artistic myself. Anyone know a local (LA area) talented tattoo artist?
2) I am looking for new recipes because I make the same 7 things over and over again and we need something new in our rotation. Quick and Easy recipes preferred!
3) Please suggest something great for us to watch on television. Ted still watches "Game of Thrones" which I had to stop immediately when a lady was ordered to turn over her baby on some episode a few weeks ago. It is too dark for me. The Bachelorette is coming in a few weeks. You KNOW I am excited about that! We are watching "Sons of Anarchy" and "Arrested Development" on Netflix. Still watching Parks and Recreation, The Office, and Modern Family. You'd think that would be enough. It isn't. Help us out!
Thanks. If you still have questions, I have answers (probably). Let me know.
My friend Greg emailed me the other day to say he thought I should address Baby M's arrival on my blog ("not that you are taking requests for content, like a radio show or something", he said). But, he felt confused and imagined others might also. Is he allowed to be excited about Baby M? Can he buy Baby M presents and take his picture? Will I want people to visit Baby M and hold him and stuff? Good questions. Not sure I have the answers for all of these things but it is time to address them because yesterday marked the first day of my third trimester. The next three months will fly by (for everyone but me....more on that later). First of all, we are very excited about Baby M. We love him. He is a dream come true. Truly. So, yes, celebrate him! Can you buy him presents? Sure...but maybe wait just a little longer. I am scared. PLEASE take his picture (and in fact, I keep writing this, but if you have ANY photos of Max you haven't shared with us...please do! They would be the best gift of all). Take his picture, take video, and SHARE THEM! I kick myself everyday that I don't have more photos of Max.
Please be excited for us about Baby M but try to keep it in your mind that Baby M's arrival doesn't cancel out our missing Max. It doesn't. Upon hearing the news of my pregnancy, more than one person said, "See? I told you everything would be ok." Ugh. I don't think I really need to reiterate that it still isn't "ok". Never will be. Please remember that Baby M is due the week after we will be commemorating the one year anniversary of our losing Max. Please find it in your heart to acknowledge that. I imagine that it will be a very tough time for us, even though Baby M's arrival will coincide. I have a hard time every day knowing that I while I am counting down the days until he gets here, the same clock is running toward the anniversary of our worst days (July 19-21). It is a blessing and a curse. I am not sure how up for visitors we will be, but Baby M will be a little Jewish boy and he will have a bris just like his brother did. We hope our friends and family will come to the bris and at least get to meet him there. I am not sure if I will feel comfortable passing him around like I did with Maxie at his bris. I am already overprotective of him. That's probably how it will be for a while. I imagine that my back will hurt even more after Baby M gets here. I'll have to really utilize my baby carriers often and correctly.
The next three months feel like an eternity. I have to believe that when Baby M gets here, life will be better than it is now. Although I am working, I am at home alone and the days go by so slowly. I take breaks often because I am too sad to concentrate. I spend all day counting down the hours until Ted gets home and all week counting down the days until the weekend because the time goes a little quicker when Ted is around. Sometimes we find out at the last minute that Ted has to work over the weekend (like today). All of a sudden, I am home alone for another whole day. Coming up with a plan to make the day go by is overwhelming. I could work (doesn't make the day go by quicker). I could watch tv (makes the day go slower in most cases). I could leave my house (to go where? Plus, there are babies everywhere). I can go to the gym (I try to go throughout the week but I can't really walk on the treadmill for more than 40 minutes or so before the round ligament pain starts to be too much). I don't feel comfortable going to a prenatal yoga class, which makes me sad. I SO looked forward to my prenatal class with Max each week (I don't want any moms asking me the dreaded questions - is it my first? Oh, it isn't, do you have a boy or a girl? How old is he? I don't need to feel worse or scare the daylights out of any other pregnant moms). I can go get a $25 foot massage (that only takes up an hour and I just did it yesterday). Honestly, I need a new hobby or something. I tried knitting - it didn't stick. I feel a biological NEED to "nest" but I can't. Nesting would mean going into Maxie's room and getting it ready for Baby M. The thought is suffocating. I am not ready to start buying him anything or going through Maxie's clothes or going through Maxie's things. I can't read about the latest breastfeeding pillows or other cool gear or go to a Baby's R Us to buy any of it. Ignoring this biological urge to prepare for a baby is super painful. I spent the entire second half of my pregnancy with Max getting stuff together - putting together a registry, looking for a crib, reading baby books. This time all I've bought the baby is a Snuza breathing monitor that will attach to his diaper so that an alarm will go off if he ever stops breathing for more than 15 seconds. I am looking for a new hobby - a way to kill time - something, anything to help me pass the next three months quicker than I have passed the last nine. Please! I am taking any and all suggestions.
While I am on the topic of suggestions - I am looking for a few more:
1) I am getting a Maxie tattoo. Ideally, I want to get it before Baby M gets here. I am hoping to find a tattoo artist who can help me design my vision because I can't find anything online and I am not artistic myself. Anyone know a local (LA area) talented tattoo artist?
2) I am looking for new recipes because I make the same 7 things over and over again and we need something new in our rotation. Quick and Easy recipes preferred!
3) Please suggest something great for us to watch on television. Ted still watches "Game of Thrones" which I had to stop immediately when a lady was ordered to turn over her baby on some episode a few weeks ago. It is too dark for me. The Bachelorette is coming in a few weeks. You KNOW I am excited about that! We are watching "Sons of Anarchy" and "Arrested Development" on Netflix. Still watching Parks and Recreation, The Office, and Modern Family. You'd think that would be enough. It isn't. Help us out!
Thanks. If you still have questions, I have answers (probably). Let me know.
Divine Timing
Friday, April 27, 2012
Sometimes, when it feels like there are no more miracles, when life has lost all meaning, and when you are all alone in a big menacing world - someone sends you a sign that there is still beauty out there. It has happened to me many times over the last nine months. I connect to someone who understands me and who I understand as well. A beautiful evening comes together and we are shown just how much the people in our lives care. A group of strangers hold you in their hearts and prayers and shower you with love, attention and gifts. Friends, family, friends of friends and people you don't even know, help to honor the memory of your truest love. The promise of a new life comes along, encouraging hope, courage and new joy.
Yesterday a small gift came from a stranger at exactly the right moment. It actually felt like Maxie's spirit had inspired this lovely angel to send us some love just at a time when I felt like I had lost all of my hope. I won't explain the details of the day (or rather, week). I have been in the deepest, darkest pit of grief for the last week or so for various reasons. I just haven't been able to imagine the sun light coming through and ever touching my heart again. Probably coming home from Cancun and then again from the sacred bubble of my Arizona conference experience had something to do with it. But, yesterday afternoon I left the house for a few hours and when I returned, feeling broken, there was a package on the doorstep. It came from a blog reader of mine. A woman named Emalee in Utah, who I have never met. She quilted a little blanket for Baby M. Oh my goodness! I just love it. I can see how much love went into the stitching. I hope she doesn't mind my sharing the card. It is just beautiful.
Dear Abby and Ted,
I hope you enjoy the blanket. It is a little crooked, as it is my first attempt on my own. Hopefully Baby M does not notice.
I chose to include stars in your blanket because of a book I've been reading lately. One of the characters calls the love of her life her "moon and stars".
Because Maxie loved Goodnight Moon and had "eyes as big as moonpies", I thought he could be the moon and Baby M the stars.
I also included stars because they punctuate the darkness, but do not change that it is night. They just provide some direction, hope or safety. I believe you when you say it is dark.
I hope Baby M can provide some light in that darkness just like the stars.
I hope you like the gift, and that if anything, it lets you know that people care about you. Even those you've never met.
Love, Michael, Emalee and Sam
Just beautiful! Right? I am kvelling (google it). There have been so many moments like this. Just hearing from friends and family and strangers on my blog, by email, through phone calls, texts and occasional visits - I know that we are not alone. We are surrounded by love, even if sometimes I have such heavy blinders on that I cannot see it. Thank you Emalee, for reminding me how beautiful this world can sometimes be. I have needed it so much.
Yesterday a small gift came from a stranger at exactly the right moment. It actually felt like Maxie's spirit had inspired this lovely angel to send us some love just at a time when I felt like I had lost all of my hope. I won't explain the details of the day (or rather, week). I have been in the deepest, darkest pit of grief for the last week or so for various reasons. I just haven't been able to imagine the sun light coming through and ever touching my heart again. Probably coming home from Cancun and then again from the sacred bubble of my Arizona conference experience had something to do with it. But, yesterday afternoon I left the house for a few hours and when I returned, feeling broken, there was a package on the doorstep. It came from a blog reader of mine. A woman named Emalee in Utah, who I have never met. She quilted a little blanket for Baby M. Oh my goodness! I just love it. I can see how much love went into the stitching. I hope she doesn't mind my sharing the card. It is just beautiful.
Dear Abby and Ted,
I hope you enjoy the blanket. It is a little crooked, as it is my first attempt on my own. Hopefully Baby M does not notice.
I chose to include stars in your blanket because of a book I've been reading lately. One of the characters calls the love of her life her "moon and stars".
Because Maxie loved Goodnight Moon and had "eyes as big as moonpies", I thought he could be the moon and Baby M the stars.
I also included stars because they punctuate the darkness, but do not change that it is night. They just provide some direction, hope or safety. I believe you when you say it is dark.
I hope Baby M can provide some light in that darkness just like the stars.
I hope you like the gift, and that if anything, it lets you know that people care about you. Even those you've never met.
Love, Michael, Emalee and Sam
Here is it, on the glider Ted bought me for Mother's Day last year.
Little Jakey is chillin' right behind it.
Just beautiful! Right? I am kvelling (google it). There have been so many moments like this. Just hearing from friends and family and strangers on my blog, by email, through phone calls, texts and occasional visits - I know that we are not alone. We are surrounded by love, even if sometimes I have such heavy blinders on that I cannot see it. Thank you Emalee, for reminding me how beautiful this world can sometimes be. I have needed it so much.
Related
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Sunday evening, Ted and I were invited to his cousin's house for dinner. They live in the hills of Tarzana. It was a beautiful evening. They have a lovely home with a spectacular view. We really enjoyed connecting to and spending time with them. We talked a lot about our children....their Liora and our Max. There was so much that they went through that we could relate to. All of the stuff you've already heard about: the insensitive comments, the feelings of isolation, the need to shut off from the rest of the world, the inability to work and be social. Miriam's least favorite comment is also one of mine: "You are so strong, I could never do what you are doing". Like we have a choice. They said it took them about three years to find their footing again.
What was really nice to see is that they are happy today. Of course they miss their daughter and she is in everything they do. But, they are happy. They travel, spend time with their other daughter and their grandchildren. They have friends. Not that this should be surprising, but in a way it is. I know that people eventually figure out a way to live without their children who've passed but it doesn't seem possible from the place that I am in now. I am still in the darkness. I feel like so much of a tortured soul, I can't imagine ever pulling out of this pit. It is so deep.
They put together a very nice slide show of their recent visit to Israel. We loved what a wonderful tribute Liora's Forest is to her life and how much peace it has brought to them. Liora's forest is right outside of Tsfat, where she studied many years ago. Tsfat is a beautiful and mystical city in Israel's northern region. Jay and Miriam have made so many friends in Israel through the years through their connection to Liora and her forest - the forest ranger who was in charge of the site, Liora's homestay family, old friends of friends of Liora's from when she studied there and others. They are treated like family by everyone. They even attended a birthday party for the son of one of their ranger friends in the forest. It is wonderful that Liora's Forest seems to get so much use. Maxie won't have his own forest in the same way but we know that the Carmel forest as a whole will be well used. and it makes up happy to know that Maxie's trees will be scattered throughout.
On the way home, Ted and I were talking about our lives and where we are and where we might be one day. I felt somewhat hopeful. Then, suddenly, Ted got really really quiet. He curled up in a ball in the front seat. He stopped engaging in the conversation entirely. "What's wrong baby? Did you just get really overwhelmed?", I asked. "Ya", he replied. Then a few seconds later he added, "You didn't notice it on the way in either". "What?", I asked. "The hospital", he said. We had just passed right by the exit on the freeway to the hospital where our Maxie died. I didn't notice. The air got heavy. I suddenly felt suffocated (actually, I feel totally suffocated just writing about this). The rest of the drive home was quiet. The memory of Maxie lying in his hospital bed dying, killing every cell in my body.
Hope is a wonderful break from the reality of our lives. Hope is what has the ability to pull us up out of the pit for moments of fresh air. Hope is out there somewhere - we have to believe it. Unfortunately, right now, reality is still so much larger than our hope and I imagine that it how is will be for some time.
What was really nice to see is that they are happy today. Of course they miss their daughter and she is in everything they do. But, they are happy. They travel, spend time with their other daughter and their grandchildren. They have friends. Not that this should be surprising, but in a way it is. I know that people eventually figure out a way to live without their children who've passed but it doesn't seem possible from the place that I am in now. I am still in the darkness. I feel like so much of a tortured soul, I can't imagine ever pulling out of this pit. It is so deep.
They put together a very nice slide show of their recent visit to Israel. We loved what a wonderful tribute Liora's Forest is to her life and how much peace it has brought to them. Liora's forest is right outside of Tsfat, where she studied many years ago. Tsfat is a beautiful and mystical city in Israel's northern region. Jay and Miriam have made so many friends in Israel through the years through their connection to Liora and her forest - the forest ranger who was in charge of the site, Liora's homestay family, old friends of friends of Liora's from when she studied there and others. They are treated like family by everyone. They even attended a birthday party for the son of one of their ranger friends in the forest. It is wonderful that Liora's Forest seems to get so much use. Maxie won't have his own forest in the same way but we know that the Carmel forest as a whole will be well used. and it makes up happy to know that Maxie's trees will be scattered throughout.
On the way home, Ted and I were talking about our lives and where we are and where we might be one day. I felt somewhat hopeful. Then, suddenly, Ted got really really quiet. He curled up in a ball in the front seat. He stopped engaging in the conversation entirely. "What's wrong baby? Did you just get really overwhelmed?", I asked. "Ya", he replied. Then a few seconds later he added, "You didn't notice it on the way in either". "What?", I asked. "The hospital", he said. We had just passed right by the exit on the freeway to the hospital where our Maxie died. I didn't notice. The air got heavy. I suddenly felt suffocated (actually, I feel totally suffocated just writing about this). The rest of the drive home was quiet. The memory of Maxie lying in his hospital bed dying, killing every cell in my body.
Hope is a wonderful break from the reality of our lives. Hope is what has the ability to pull us up out of the pit for moments of fresh air. Hope is out there somewhere - we have to believe it. Unfortunately, right now, reality is still so much larger than our hope and I imagine that it how is will be for some time.
Strong
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
I am not strong. I am not brave.
Just as you could never go through what I am going through, I cannot either.
It is killing me.
Living without my baby is worse than my worst nightmare. There are no words.
If your baby died, you WOULD keep living. The only other choice is suicide and you would probably not make that choice, though you would think about it.....a lot.
You would not choose it because you would not want everyone in your life to have to feel the pain of losing both your child AND you (even though you wonder whether they would really feel the same pain, since they don't seem to feel it for your child).
Just because I am still breathing, doesn't make me strong. It doesn't make me brave.
I am no stronger than you. I am just the unlucky one who lost her baby.
Please don't call me strong. Please don't tell me you couldn't go through this.
It was not a choice I made. I would give my whole life and so much more for Maxie to be able to live his.
I have no interest in showing you that I am strong. I would rather be showing off my parenting skills.
I would rather be showing off my baby.
I am not strong. I am not brave. I am unlucky.
Those things are not the same.
Just as you could never go through what I am going through, I cannot either.
It is killing me.
Living without my baby is worse than my worst nightmare. There are no words.
If your baby died, you WOULD keep living. The only other choice is suicide and you would probably not make that choice, though you would think about it.....a lot.
You would not choose it because you would not want everyone in your life to have to feel the pain of losing both your child AND you (even though you wonder whether they would really feel the same pain, since they don't seem to feel it for your child).
Just because I am still breathing, doesn't make me strong. It doesn't make me brave.
I am no stronger than you. I am just the unlucky one who lost her baby.
Please don't call me strong. Please don't tell me you couldn't go through this.
It was not a choice I made. I would give my whole life and so much more for Maxie to be able to live his.
I have no interest in showing you that I am strong. I would rather be showing off my parenting skills.
I would rather be showing off my baby.
I am not strong. I am not brave. I am unlucky.
Those things are not the same.
How I am feeling - pregnancy wise
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
This is a conversation that I have regularly: Someone will ask how I am feeling and I eagerly respond about how hard losing Max has been. How I just can't believe I am living in a world without him and how... This is where I usually get cut off. "No", they say "I mean how are you feeling with your pregnancy?" Silly me.
I feel pregnant. I can't imagine why that matters, but if you really want to know, I'll tell you (is this actually interesting to people?)
My back hurts. I think I've made that clear.
I'm tired.
I am very large. Just entering my third trimester now, I am as large as I was halfway through it with Max.
I have bad acid reflux. I had it with Max too but not until the seventh or eighth month. I can't eat anything without feeling it in my esophagus later. (Poor Maxie. He had acid reflux and cried for days. My reflux makes ms think of his pain).
I can't find a comfortable position to sleep in. I've used all kinds of pillows. They aren't super helpful. Baby M kicks a lot, which I love.
My glucose test came back negative for gestational diabetes, so that's good news.
Is this the stuff people are really asking me about? Honestly, I'm having a relatively normal and easy pregnancy, like I did with Max.
I gotta be honest and tell you that sadly, I know a relatively normal pregnancy is no indication of my baby's future health and happiness.
I am not having an unusual pregnancy in any way OTHER than the fact that I am devastated. There is nothing going on that most pregnant women don't complain about EXCEPT that this is a baby who is supposed to have a big brother and doesn't.
Our Baby M looks great and that would be a comfort IF his big brother didn't die and if we were weren't anxiously awaiting the "results" of our genetic testing (which probably won't tell us anything and we won't hear a word about until at least mid-May).
I feel pregnant. I can't imagine why that matters, but if you really want to know, I'll tell you (is this actually interesting to people?)
My back hurts. I think I've made that clear.
I'm tired.
I am very large. Just entering my third trimester now, I am as large as I was halfway through it with Max.
I have bad acid reflux. I had it with Max too but not until the seventh or eighth month. I can't eat anything without feeling it in my esophagus later. (Poor Maxie. He had acid reflux and cried for days. My reflux makes ms think of his pain).
I can't find a comfortable position to sleep in. I've used all kinds of pillows. They aren't super helpful. Baby M kicks a lot, which I love.
My glucose test came back negative for gestational diabetes, so that's good news.
Is this the stuff people are really asking me about? Honestly, I'm having a relatively normal and easy pregnancy, like I did with Max.
I gotta be honest and tell you that sadly, I know a relatively normal pregnancy is no indication of my baby's future health and happiness.
I am not having an unusual pregnancy in any way OTHER than the fact that I am devastated. There is nothing going on that most pregnant women don't complain about EXCEPT that this is a baby who is supposed to have a big brother and doesn't.
Our Baby M looks great and that would be a comfort IF his big brother didn't die and if we were weren't anxiously awaiting the "results" of our genetic testing (which probably won't tell us anything and we won't hear a word about until at least mid-May).
But maybe you are asking because it gives us something to talk about other than Maxie?
If so, sorry I spoiled it by answering all of your questions here.
This post isn't gonna be pretty
Monday, April 23, 2012
This may not be the appropriate time to say this, but I am going to say it anyway, because there will never be a good time. And, as sweet as other blogging moms of children who have passed are - I know they are all thinking (or have thought) the same thing I am. Plus, I am many things but I don't think anyone has ever described me as "sweet". Maxie must have gotten his sweetness from his daddy.
There are many friends who I don't hear from - not even an email to say "We are thinking about you." I know they think (or they are hoping) I haven't really noticed, but I have. I know they are worried about saying the wrong thing (even though I have made it pretty easy, in my opinion, by actually telling people what to say throughout my blog for all of these months). It has taken me a long time to get to the point where I am now. I am no longer sad about having lost these friends. I wouldn't want them now anyway, knowing what I know about them. They must have written off our friendship not long after Max died, when they realized that it would be too challenging for them to support a friend going through something of this magnitude. They don't have it in them to be real friends It actually says so much about a person who doesn't want to feel uncomfortable for the 2 minutes it takes to write an email to me that says "I think about you and am so sad for your loss". Listen up - the people I am talking about, for all of their good qualities, are not "friends". They are people I once knew who shared a common interest with me at some point. Their disinterest in our lives is especially glaring in light of the fact that so many people I don't know at all or who I know but have never been close to, HAVE sent me emails and comments to show their support. I can't help but wonder to myself if these former friends will turn to me if/when they have a tragedy of their own in the future (because as much as they would like to believe it - they are not immune - nobody is). Would I be there for them? It would be easy to ignore their pain, the way they have ignored mine. Ted tells me that I would be there for old friends. I think Ted would like to continue seeing the good in me. By the way, Ted WOULD be there for those people...even if those people were MY people. He is a better person than I am. He just is (as a side note, when Ted makes his list of what he would do with the money if/WHEN we won the lottery :), he includes giving money to every single friend we have had.....even the ones who we haven't heard a peep out of. We will cross that bridge when we get to it). Sadly, I am a bit of a grudge holder (if god's lesson in taking Max from us was to rid me of this particular trait, he/she failed). I am unlikely to forget those who didn't reach out, just as I am unlikely to forget rude comments, things said to minimize our loss, the behavior of certain people at Maxie's funeral or shiva, and ALL of the insensitive stuff that I have experienced ever since this nightmare began. These memories will be with me for a lifetime and are actually a part of my Post Traumatic Stress. They are part of the dark landscape that sometimes takes over my brain and leaves me completely breathless and paralyzed. When I think about the part these people have played since Max's death, I realize how completely devoid of compassion so many people in this world really are. Having worked in non-profits most of my adult life...I already knew that I guess. So few people step up to take on doing good in the world compared to the many who just let others worry about it. Part of all this though is the sad recognition that people I once cared about, don't care about us at all. I make no apologies for how I feel (just as you don't). This is who I am. And, if you think what I have written here is even half as hurtful as your abandoning us when we needed you most or any of the other insensitive things you did to show us how little our loss means to you, you don't have a clue. (I promise to follow up with a post about the people we are grateful for because they are many of them and they continue to astound us with their kindness to this day)
There are many friends who I don't hear from - not even an email to say "We are thinking about you." I know they think (or they are hoping) I haven't really noticed, but I have. I know they are worried about saying the wrong thing (even though I have made it pretty easy, in my opinion, by actually telling people what to say throughout my blog for all of these months). It has taken me a long time to get to the point where I am now. I am no longer sad about having lost these friends. I wouldn't want them now anyway, knowing what I know about them. They must have written off our friendship not long after Max died, when they realized that it would be too challenging for them to support a friend going through something of this magnitude. They don't have it in them to be real friends It actually says so much about a person who doesn't want to feel uncomfortable for the 2 minutes it takes to write an email to me that says "I think about you and am so sad for your loss". Listen up - the people I am talking about, for all of their good qualities, are not "friends". They are people I once knew who shared a common interest with me at some point. Their disinterest in our lives is especially glaring in light of the fact that so many people I don't know at all or who I know but have never been close to, HAVE sent me emails and comments to show their support. I can't help but wonder to myself if these former friends will turn to me if/when they have a tragedy of their own in the future (because as much as they would like to believe it - they are not immune - nobody is). Would I be there for them? It would be easy to ignore their pain, the way they have ignored mine. Ted tells me that I would be there for old friends. I think Ted would like to continue seeing the good in me. By the way, Ted WOULD be there for those people...even if those people were MY people. He is a better person than I am. He just is (as a side note, when Ted makes his list of what he would do with the money if/WHEN we won the lottery :), he includes giving money to every single friend we have had.....even the ones who we haven't heard a peep out of. We will cross that bridge when we get to it). Sadly, I am a bit of a grudge holder (if god's lesson in taking Max from us was to rid me of this particular trait, he/she failed). I am unlikely to forget those who didn't reach out, just as I am unlikely to forget rude comments, things said to minimize our loss, the behavior of certain people at Maxie's funeral or shiva, and ALL of the insensitive stuff that I have experienced ever since this nightmare began. These memories will be with me for a lifetime and are actually a part of my Post Traumatic Stress. They are part of the dark landscape that sometimes takes over my brain and leaves me completely breathless and paralyzed. When I think about the part these people have played since Max's death, I realize how completely devoid of compassion so many people in this world really are. Having worked in non-profits most of my adult life...I already knew that I guess. So few people step up to take on doing good in the world compared to the many who just let others worry about it. Part of all this though is the sad recognition that people I once cared about, don't care about us at all. I make no apologies for how I feel (just as you don't). This is who I am. And, if you think what I have written here is even half as hurtful as your abandoning us when we needed you most or any of the other insensitive things you did to show us how little our loss means to you, you don't have a clue. (I promise to follow up with a post about the people we are grateful for because they are many of them and they continue to astound us with their kindness to this day)
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