This blog is dedicated to my Maxie. Max was only 9 and a half months when he stopped breathing at daycare. We are devastated by the loss of our most beloved baby boy. Hopefully, this blog will give readers a sense of what a beautiful spirit he was and will help to keep his memory alive.
I'm having a hard time. Like, a REALLY hard time. It's a combination of things - post partum hormones, PTSD (still got that one cooking), no sleep - up every morning with Mace between 3-5 and when I finally get him down, the other two wake up), a potentially scary test result for Mace (more on that in future weeks maybe), a general feeling of being fat and unpresentable post baby, Jake's death, and some family drama that has left me feeling pretty worn down.
I think everyone has times in life that are really really hard. I think this would be hard if I was just nursing a little one all night and didn't have all of the other factors, but I do. I tend to have this feeling that I should be grateful and happy all of the time because my remaining children are alive. So when I start to feel unhappy or worn out by other factors in life, things that I think wear most parents down, I really beat myself up. Another bereaved parent explained it well - it feels like we are supposed to be crying tears of joy over every poopy diaper - and in theory, I kind of am.
But this is hard and frankly, I am having a hard time. I see the horizon up ahead - I just can't get there quick enough.
I hope my children always know that they are loved. No matter who they become, no matter what they do, no matter how old they get - we will always love them. We will always tell them, we will always show them, we will always make sure that they know that we love them more than anything. Even when they are challenging - or our feelings get hurt, they will know that they are loved. And when life is hard for them - we will be there, walking beside them - because that's what we signed up for, that's what they deserve, and that's what love means. As long as Ted and I are alive, these guys will never ever feel alone..... From here to eternity - we will always love the one that we have outlived and we'll always love the ones that outlive us long after we are gone.
Since losing Maxie, I have been fantasizing about moving away - as if leaving this place could make the pain go away. We thought about Portland and Seattle and Israel and Hawaii and Costa Rica. We wanted a fresh start, an adventure, and some place where we didn't have to worry about driving past Maxie's daycare, the ER, or the cemetery every time we left the house.
As time has passed, we've realized that no matter where we are - we won't be able to leave the pain behind. For a long time, that put our search on hold....until now. We are moving - soon! A new adventure for me in a new place - a new adventure for Ted in an old familiar place. It is starting to feel real. I am really excited and also so so sad.
I am sad to leave this familiar place that I've spent most of my life in. This town that everyone loves to hate is a place that I love to love. I've always loved LA. Always, always. I get why people don't like it - traffic, superficial Hollywood people.....uh, traffic. But I love the sunshine, the beach, the mountains, the canyons, the endless list of places to eat, drink and play. Most of that has felt pretty empty for a long time, but I will still miss it.
I will miss friends and family and special places and old traditions. Of course we will visit, but it won't be the same.
Despite all this, I'm really excited - really. Look out East Coast! Here we come!
We finally had to put Jakedown a few weeks ago. It was a sort of painful decision as there was no perfect time really. I have been avoiding thinking about it for the most part because it isn't a very convenient time to grieve and I am just emotionally worn out.
Losing a dog is painful. It doesn't compare to losing my son. It just doesn't. The fact is that everything painful thing in life now gets compared to losing Max. It's my barometer. And what sort if sucks about that is that I don't allow myself to feel the other sadnesses - because I have this feeling that they shouldn't count....because compared to losing Max they don't. But there has been a lot of painful stuff over these past four years and frankly, it's just so exhausting.
Jake was a special dog. I've loved him more than any other animal ever (don't tell Layla - she is a close second ;)) He had my heart from the moment I knew he existed. A friend's brother and his family were Jakeys first owners I'd seen his photo and became obsessed with goldendoodles. I spent hours researching them on the internet. And then - I learned they couldn't keep him. I knew he had to be mine. I'd "secreted" him is what I told Ted after we watched "The Secret@ together. Jake was big and fluffy and cuddly. He nuzzled everyone who came over and laid in our laps and across our bodies while we slept. We used to say that he wasn't the smartest dog (he'd forget how to use the doggie door every few days and just stand outside and bark until we showed him again how it worked), but he sure was pretty. He was so pretty - he had the softest prettiest coat, the longest eyelashes and the sweetest face. His coat would get long and dreadlocky when I didn't brush him (because I hardly ever did) and when he'd come back from the groomers with really short hair, we called him "Jacques" - he somehow seemed more French with the short doo. Another fake name often thrown in the mix was "Yakey", as my former housekeeper from Peru used to call him.
Jake was my first great love. Honestly. He was my first experience with that particular brand of selflessness. A sImilar feeling you have towards your children (though not quite the same). While I tend to diminish his passing, his life lit mine up every day he was with me.
I hope he's found my Maxie by now and is giving him some great big cuddles.
Mace is an awesome baby. He is really mellow 95% of the time, and if he ever fusses up, it usually takes some milk and maybe 2 Hyland homeopathic Colic tablets to chill him out. He is so cute, smells so good, and looks so much like big brother Mo - though he continues to remind me most of Maxie. Mace has just started smiling, usually with an open mouth and just off from center eye contact. He is so special.
If you were to ask Mo how old he was today, he'd say four. I'm not sure why, since he isn't even three yet. But, people keep asking him - and he keeps saying four.
People keep laughing and asking me how it is to have three children and am I going to try for four. I rarely correct them and say "I already have four", because when I do they feel bad. Of course, the question makes me feel bad - and so does playing along with the suggestion that Mo, Myla and Macie make up the entirety of my clan of kids.
This July will make four years since our worlds fell apart. FOUR YEARS. Impossible to imagine. There are still broken pieces everywhere I look as if the devastation JUST happened. Four years sounds like a lot. It's nothing.
We are getting so close! Myla is eleven months old as of yesterday! I can't believe that a year has gone by since she was born. She has changed so much in that year - and not only in her appearance. Myla is a VERY spirited baby! She feels things very deeply - her laugh is hysterical and straight from her belly, her cry is inconsolable, her smile is ear to ear, her focus is unbreakable, and she is constantly in motion. She never just sits on anyone's lap or plays quietly on the floor. She rolls and military crawls and kicks all over the place. Getting her dressed is like being in a wrestling match. She has an awesome appetite and is pretty much the cutest eater I've ever seen. She eats anything and everything - not at all picky and eats tons of fruits and veggies. She also loves her bottles and sometimes the only way to get pajamas on her body is by giving her one. She's getting REALLY close to crawling and finally has two bottom teeth. She's especially close to her big brother Mo but is also really interested in her little brother Mace and always trying to climb into his swing or carseat. She is a truly awesome baby and we love her so much!!!
I love to see these two together. They really love each other. Myla screams whenever Mo comes in the room and Mo can't wait for her to wake up from naps so that they can play. When they sit at the dinner table, they have a routine of screaming and squealing back and forth (it warms my heart but it hurts my ears). I love how close they are. I hope it stays like this between them forever.
It is so rare that I get to sit with another parent (other than Ted) who has lost a child. Max is always on my mind in one way or another and I still talk about him a lot - I just don't often get the chance to talk about how I feel without him very much. I sometimes wish I had more bereaved parent friends - which is obviously insane because I hate that there are actually people who share this status with me. But parents who've lost children are the only people who really get it - and so they are, in many ways, the only people who really get me.
My friend Molly has been in LA for the past few days and made time yesterday to come visit me. Even though we've only met in person once before, she is definitely a kindred spirit. She knows the subtext of my story without my having to spell it out and it makes me feel at ease and true in a way I can't feel with most people. There is no time when Max and Lucy aren't in our conversation, even when they aren't actively in our conversation. If you've lost a child, you know what I'm talking about (and I'm so sorry that you know what I'm talking about).
To be able to have Max so present through an interaction with a fellow human being is uplifting. It squashes the loneliness that I have felt with even my closest people ever since Max died. It makes me feel normal and reminds me that I am part of a community - one I never wanted to be part of but one full of people I love and understand and who get me. To tell you the truth, I wish we could all run away together and I could be surrounded by bereaved parents all of the time and I'd never have to explain why I'm still fragile, why sometimes big things feel really small and small things feel really big, or why every experience I have and decision I make is colored (for better or worse) by the fact that Max died when he was nine and half months old at daycare.
Whether she really understands this fact or not, Molly's loss of beautiful Lucy has lit a path to healing for me. I'm grateful to know this amazing lady!
Ted and I are in an ongoing conversation about when the right time will be to "put down" our dog Jake. The tumor in his mouth is the size of a large lemon. His nose is all dried out and being pushed from the inside of his mouth to the left side of his face. He can't eat everything he used to. Something is wrong with his right eye. His breath is terrible - like he is rotting from the inside out. He isn't himself anymore - even though he still loves to be rubbed, still loves to run around, is still wagging his tail, is still sitting under the kids chairs during mealtimes - hoping to catch a fallen Cheerio. After particularly hard days (and we can't really figure out what makes the hard days hard), he lies perfectly still, his eyes glazed over, his breathing labored and slow. On those days, we say our goodbyes- convinced that this will be our last night with him - and then wake up to find that he has recovered somewhat by the next morning. I am not sure how much more I can take of the whole thing - and at the same time, I kind of feel nothing. The death of this dog - who I have loved so much, with all of my heart - feels almost like nothing - and that in itself is something that I can't take much more of. When Jake was healthy, and especially before I had children, we would snuggle on the bed or couch....I let him drape his whole 70 pound body over me. I loved his smell even when he was desperate for a bath - the raw doggish smell of hard play and happiness. His intense doggy breath didn't even bother me - it was Jake and I love everything about him. Before losing Max, I honestly dreaded the day that I knew would come when we'd have to put Jake down. I figured it would be one of the hardest things I'd go through. It isn't....and I wonder if that means I am too broken and too cold to care. I hate it. And it isn't that I am not feeling the impending loss - I am. But, I want it over with. I don't want to prolong this anymore....and I can't imagine how I could possibly not want to prolong the life of my animal best friend. I don't know. Part of my heart seems to have turned cold....and that scares me.
Our Macie is one month old as of yesterday. I thought I had easy babies in the past - they've got nothing on Baby Mace. He is so quiet, we sometimes forget he's in the room (which can actually sometimes be a little scary - for me at least). He is really cute and mellow. We are happy that the cross eyes he was born with are now in focus :) He nurses like a champ - sometimes cluster feeding for hours at a time. He is loved (sometimes a little too aggressively) by both his older brother and sister. And, although nobody else might agree - he reminds me of Max so deeply on a soul level. It's something I can't explain, call it mothers intuition - but there is some Max in Mace. I feel it. Still, he continues to look most like Mo. We can't wait to see who this little guy becomes. He's just dreamy!!!
Here is the terrible one month photo I took earlier today and below are BEAUTIFUL photos taken by my nanny (who doesn't know yet that she has a children's photography career in her future)!
It definitely takes me a lot longer to post about our experiences these days. I see this as a positive - that my life is actually SO busy and full that I have less time to focus my attention on the blog. I know I've said it before - but I never could have imagined this much activity and this much joy coming back into my life. As hard as this new chapter is (logistically), I am beyond grateful.
Mace's bris was last Monday. It was such a special occasion for SO many reasons. First of all, it was our opportunity to introduce Mace to so many friends and family members. It is a nice way to celebrate this new life and for people to come see the baby and visit us without everyone we know trying to find a time to come over. Not that we wouldn't want to have special time with everyone BUT, it just isn't practical. And the event is much more festive than just sitting around in the living room while we feed kids and change diapers.
Macie's bris was at my moms house. Since we've been living here, it just made sense to do it here. I love my moms house and it is a great place for gatherings and parties. We were really happy and so appreciative to do it here. And since my dad hosted Maxie's bris, and we had Mo's at our house, I think mymom was actually happy to have a turn herself.
Another really special piece of Macie's bris for Ted and I was having the same Moyel who performed Maxie's bris. Dr. Shpall talked me off a very scary ledge before Maxie's bris. The whole practice of a bris felt very ancient, unnecessary and barbaric to me and I was dreading the deed. He sensed my apprehension and spoke to me about how the tradition would link our little boy to our heritage for thousands of generations backwards and forward in time. He told us to really pause and let the moments of the event sink in and to remember that it was special and worth being present for. I have felt so grateful for that reality check in the years since losing Max. There is no way we could have known that it would be the only opportunity in Maxie's short life that we got to celebrate him with him, since he never had even one birthday. I almost let the event be something that I just "got through" but it ended up being something I relished. I will be forever thankful for that. He (the Moyel) wasn't available for Mo's bris. We were so glad he was available for Mace's.
We also were excited to use the opportunity of Macie's event to celebrate Myla. We didn't do a "baby naming" for her because she was converted in the mikveh, where she was also named. The mikveh is in a small room and so we really only invited our close family to that ceremony. It was cute having her "introduced" along with her younger brother. Ted and our Moyel incorporated her into the ceremony along with Mo. One of the most special moments of the evening was when Mo grabbed Myla affectionately during a blessing and started speaking baby talk to her. You could feel the love that they have for each other. It was really sweet.
Lastly, and oddly enough, this was the first bris that I had fun at. I was too postpartum overwhelmed to have fun at Maxie's bris (even if I did really appreciate the moment). I was too deep in grief at Mo's bris to feel celebratory - too worried Mo wasn't going to live to be able to fully celebrate his arrival. But this time, I felt relaxed and happy and celebratory. I think by the fourth child, newborns just don't feel that daunting anymore......Or something.
Anyway, as I said at Mace's bris to our guests, "Have girls". The brises of my boys have been special for sure, but are definitely something I am glad to never have to experience with my own children again (bc we aren't having any more).
Myla was 10 months old on Sunday. She's growing up so quick. She gets cuter every day. She has been kind of uncomfortable lately - she just got her first tooth and the second is coming through. She also wants to crawl and move SO badly and is constantly frustrated that she can't do much more than roll on her own. This all makes for some sleepless nights and a lot of squirming and fussiness. I haven't had a baby that has had it all at once like this before. It's hard to see her so uncomfortable. I'm just praying this stage passes quickly and that next month I'll be reporting on her crawling all over the place. Generally she is a very happy baby. She's really into daddy right now and I'm pretty sure she's been saying "Dadda" a lot. We adore this little girl.
Here goes it:
*We are temporarily living at my moms house and so not only could I not find my usual blanket, but the lighting is also much different for our photo shoot.
I'm definitely an epidural kind of gal. I have a pretty high threshold for pain but honestly, I'd rather avoid it. Mace's birth was a scheduled induction. My doctor felt that he'd be another big baby (Mo was 9.5 pounds) and, as he put it, he felt that "there was something to be said for sexual function and bladder control". I agreed -"sign me up", I said. My friend and doula, Courtney (who was at Mace's birth as well as Mo's) explained to me that a pitocin labor is synthetic and that I shouldn't be surprised if the contractions felt stronger and came on faster than with Max. She was right - It was fast and angry. The contractions were relentless. I was in agony but my doctor told me to wait for the epidural because it could slow down the progress or stop it entirely. I didn't wait long, but I waited and during that agonizing wait, all of my grief (which I mostly keep neatly stuffed down I to my inner core) came storming to the surface.
Labor, if you've ever been in it, feels (to me) like the physical manifestation of grief.
Nurses telling me to breathe through it, reminding me to take one contraction at time, and that this will pass. Lying there unable to hear them...the pain so great, so relentless. The sound of my own heavy breathing, the sensation of my pounding heart drowning out every other noise. Literally wondering how I could possibly get through one more minute...unable to use sensitivity in telling someone not to touch me or to back off. It literally felt just like the long, long year and beyond - of grief. I found myself crying, not because of the pain of giving birth, but because of the pain of losing Max. Awful and heavy and I just couldn't process it. I haven't even really tried since either because now I mostly just feel bliss at Mace's being here.
Unlike the pain of childbirth, which goes away, and which you eventually do mostly forget. The pain of child loss never goes away and often comes back in heavy waves - like being right back in the middle of contractions. My heart breaking and relentlessly pounding - sending waves and waves of pain through my soul - just as intensely as it did in those early, early days and months all over again.
Our third little boy, and fourth baby, entered the world yesterday. Mace Jacob Leviss. He is 7.11 pounds and 20.5 inches. He looks so much like big brother Mo. In fact, we think he looks more like Mo than Mo did when he was born! Super cute and pretty hungry - we love him so much!!
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