Macie Eight Months

Our Macie turned eight months old on Friday, but I was out of town and Ted had his hands pretty full. For those two reasons, photos didn't happen until today. 

Mace is a really chill little guy. He doesn't cry much, he's usually happy and smiling, and when he looks at you, it's intense. Even the teachers at his school have remarked on how deeply he stares into their eyes.

He just started sleeping through the night last week. It took two nights to sleep train him. It's been pretty remarkable - especially considering that two weeks ago, he was waking up just about every hour. 

He has really special and unique friendships with both Mo and Myla and I can't wait to watch those grow. The next couple of months make me really nervous. Please send us some prayers or positive vibes.  This boy is really awesome!

The other side

As a follow up to yesterday's post, I should mention that there have been several lovely people who have told me that they know - they read it, or googled me, or someone told them - and they've either emailed or approached me to say that they know. And that they are sorry. 

That's been nice to hear.

I know that you know

I know that you know that my son died. I'm not sure if someone told you, or you googled me or you read it someplace. But, I know that you know. 

I know because I've seen it before. I know how people act when they know: We met, you were super friendly, I was too. We laughed, compared superficial stories ("I have three kids at home, you have two, our family just moved, blah, blah, blah..."). We talked about a future play date or coffee.... And then suddenly - you stopped staying hello, stopped smiling at me, avoided me whenever possible. 

 A part of me wonders if I said something awkward but the more honest part of me knows - - - knows that you know.  Knows that you know my son died and that now you can't be nice anymore because I'm scary. 

The truth is - it's ok. It is an easy way for me to know whether I really want to get to know you too. But, I guess I still just wanted to let you know that I know you know. And - that I'm not ashamed...because I loved him, and I still love him, completely. And that's more important to me than you are or ever will be or could be to me.

On Maxie's Fifth Birthday

Always in my head

India Arie

You're like a cool breeze, on a summer's day

You are a river running through the desert plain

You are my shelter, from the pouring rain

You were my comfort, even before the pain

I can hear the sound of five drummers in the wind

The leaves blowing in the breeze, ring out like guitars

A tin can rolls across the gravel like a tambourine

I am but a vessel, so I sing, because you are.... 

In my head, you're always in my head

In my dreams, you're always in my head

In my pain, you're always in my head

In my peace, you're always in my head

A rainbow of rhythm stretches across the sky

An airplane in the distance, plays a beautiful cello line

It's no coincidence, it's in tune with the music in my head

If you were a shoulder you're where I would rest, but I am your vessel so I hear, you....

In my head,you're always in my head
In my fears,you're always in my head
In my joy,you're always in my head
In my tears, you're always in my head

You're like a cool breeze, on a summer's day 
You are a river, running through a desert plain
You've been my shelter, from the pouring rain
You were my comfort, even before the pain:'cause I hear you

I am heartsick today, on your fifth birthday. I can't stop the tears that keep falling out of my eyes. None of it seems real. And yet, you were real.  You were mine.  And you had all of the potential in the world.  What I wouldn't give to see you grow up.  You are the deepest part of my soul.  You mean everything to me.  I can barely breathe some days without you.  I am so sorry you are gone.  I am so sorry.  I never stop being so sorry. 

Wherever you are Max, my love will find you.

One of the really good ones

Last night Ted gave Mo a bath, watched some dinosaur videos with him on Youtube, read a couple of books, and then tucked him in with a kiss and said "goodnight".

10 minutes later, we heard little footsteps running above our heads and then a little voice coming from the living room, "Mommy, I'm firsty"

I walked him back upstairs, gave him a few sips of water from the sippy cup next to his bed, kissed him goodnight and left his room.

5 minutes later, another little voice, "Hey guys, I bumped my head".

Another walk up the stairs, another kiss, a little head scratch and a song.

"Daddy, my froat hewts" [That's "My throat hurts" in a toddler accent].

This went on for a while.  Ted asked Mo what was going on.  Wasn't he tired?  Why was he having trouble sleeping?

Mo thought for a minute and then answered, "my brain is running".

I can relate.  My brain is running too.  Well put little man. My brain has been running and running and running since July 19th, 2011.  It won't stop running - and it's been on overdrive this past month or so. A sense of doom is lingering over me that I can't put my finger on but I know it is Maxie's birthday that's hung me out to dry. I can't stop thinking about him.  I can't stop worrying about Mace approaching 9 months. I am angry and sad and heartbroken and the worst part about this nightmare is that it remains a nightmare.

And then yesterday, I am scrolling through my Facebook feed and I can see that people keep tagging my friend Kate in a post.  When I click on the post, my stomach sinks and I feel sick.  I can't believe what I am reading.

I met my friend Kate only two years ago.  She responded to me when I posted on my blog about being in a carseat bind for a trip to Costa Rica.  We'd never met.  We have no friends in common.  She found me when she googled her OB and found a post that I'd written mentioning him..  I am not sure why she kept reading but probably because she is all heart. I ended up borrowing her Sit n'Stroll carseat/stroller for our trip.

When we finally met, it was love at first sight.  If you know me, you know that I value funny above all else....and this girl is the funniest.  She is the kind of funny that makes you cry from laughing so hard, not only when she is telling you the joke, but then again when you think about it days later. She is generous and kind and a wonderful mother and wife.  It was destined that we would be new best friends - and when I left California, I thought about how sad I was that our friendship wouldn't have the chance to grow into what it was surely meant to be.

And now I find out that Kate has Stage 4 lung cancer. And she is younger than I am.  And a mom to two little girls. And the universe is cruel and uncaring - but Kate isn't!  There was no reason on this earth for her to befriend me - only she did - and it was just because of her kind and loving heart.

Tomorrow Max would be 5. And I want to climb to the top of the highest building in town and SCREAM it!!!!! "MY SON SHOULD BE TURNING 5!!!!!" - and I would also like to add the word "FUCKERS!" to the end of that sentence because I am beyond ANGRY. And his birthday makes me feel so helpless and empty and the thought of Kate and her family is more than anyone who loves her can bear.

Kate's family has set up a website where you can donate to help with medical expenses, child care, etc. Please consider making a donation.  You don't have to help Kate and her family.  You don't even know her.  And she didn't have to reach out to me either - but she did.  That is what separates the ones like Kate from the rest of us schmucks.  She is one of the really, really good ones.

https://www.youcaring.com/kate-harrison-getzschman-440168

Love you Kate!

Pumpkin patch

Perhaps I've mentioned once or twice how much Mo LOVES pumpkins. So, you can imagine the sheer joy that this past weekend inspired, when we pulled into this place:

This is just down the road and it isn't even one of the real big pumpkin patches in our area (we will save those for the future). It was like a dream come true for this kid. Now he keeps talking about carving up the orange guys we got. We also talk about Halloween, costumes, and the Halloween cast of characters constantly (witches, spiders, ghosts, black cats). Nearly every day he asks me if it's Halloween yet. At the rate we are going, I think it's going to be a long month.

Hall Pass

In the months and even years following the sudden (and not sudden) death of someone you deeply love, the world you knew spins violently out of control. It is impossible to focus on anything but getting through the next moment. And even when it starts to get better, there is still an always present chaos. It is out of your control to a great extent. Every day that ends feels like an accomplishment, simply for having gotten through it.

During those days, there will be emails, voicemails and texts that go unanswered. There will be many times where you lose track of the story - of others, of yourself. You simply cannot think straight. 

You might feel like everyone you know and love is in great danger - of dying, suddenly and without warning. This feeling can sometimes dull the intensity of everyday (and not so everyday) problems. Taking care of three little kids is hard but not nearly as hard as the constant feeling that I have two and a half months to save the life of my youngest baby. I am literally out of my skin with anxiety about his making it through this year. I'm just trying to put it in perspective.

If someone you love (or loved) has lost someone they love. Especially if they've lost the person around whom their whole life revolved, who was the most special person in their world - I ask that you give them a hall pass. 

They may not be able to focus on you in the way you need or would like. You might need to seek out other outlets for a while. Im sorry to say this - but your "big" problems might be enviable to them. They might forget to return your last text (or your last 10 texts), they might not initiate phone calls or coffee dates (because they probably aren't "hanging out"). Don't take it personally. Your friend will be disappointing. Please try not to expect too much from them - they will disappoint you if you do.

I wish I had had a hall pass for at least the first couple of years. I still sometimes do. Instead I feel like I've been watched under a microscope - while I've tried to rebuild my life. In the past four years, I've had several miscarriages, gone through a complicated adoption, had two children 9.5 months apart and taken care of three under 3 years old, moved across the country & left behind my best friends and family. None of those things by themselves, or even in combination with each other has come anywhere near in the same universe of difficulty as grieving my heart out for Max all of this time. And I'm actually not asking for your sympathy, because I think we've done an amazing job functioning and even thriving through this. But I AM asking for an occasional hall pass and I am wondering if you might consider giving one to anyone you know who is going through a really hard time.

Practice compassion. Thanks!

You should know...

When you sweep aside Max, you sweep me aside too. When you act like I should be over him by now, what I hear is that you are over me. When you deny him, ignore him, and pretend like he never existed - you shut me out and close me down. When I try to talk to you about him and you don't listen - I feel it and it keeps me from connecting to you.

Because, you see, Max IS my soul. He is part of the very essence of who I am and my loss of him will be etched into every moment of my life forever. 

Just thought you should know.

Mace Seven Months Old

I am so grateful that Mace is seven months old.  The closer we get to nine months, the more scared I am.  He somehow seems more and more vulnerable to me, the older he gets.  I can't wait to post his ten month photo.

In the meantime, Mace has had an action packed month.  We took took a mommy & baby trip together to California for a wedding.  He was SO easy on the plane.  He sat on my lap quietly, just looking around and smiling until he fell asleep. The way home was a red-eye and he slept the whole way.  He is a very portable guy. He started daycare (I can hardly believe it either) at Mo's school (with Myla too). The teachers all love him and are always commenting on what a good and easy baby he is. I am praying that this was the right decision for our family.  My feeling is that there are so many capable and certified teachers there - 3 in his classroom alone - and we were having nanny fatigue. It was near impossible to find a nanny like our last one in CA, Vivian, and we couldn't keep playing musical nannies. So far, we've been really happy with the school, for all of our kids. Mo loves visiting his brother and sister throughout the day and Macie is getting so much attention. 

Mace started eating solid foods at the start of the month. He LOVES rice cereal and is pretty much bored with everything else. I have to hide other foods in the ride cereal. I've never had a kid even like rice cereal, Mace can't get enough. 

He is still crazy cute, as evidenced below:

A New Year

The Jewish High Holidays are a time for reflection, renewed commitment to spirituality and community, and without a doubt - for me at least - a time that I can't help but overthink the meaning of everything that has happened, everything that is, and all that will be.

Before losing Max, Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year) wasn't too much different than the secular New Year for me.  It was a good time to put together some basic resolutions, get together with friends and family, and reflect on the year that had just passed.  Not to mention that the fasting holiday of Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) a week later is a perfect kick off to losing the next 10 pounds (Am I right? - You know I am).

This year, we are in a new place (to me at least) and we are new members of a new synagogue.  Ted had to work on Rosh Hashana, so I went to services alone - well, alone with 3 kids.  I dropped Myla and Mo in the child care room to do art projects and play with other kids while Macie and I went to pray - or, probably more accurate - reflect.

The reading for Rosh Hashana is the story of G-d asking Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac, at Mt. Moriah. By any interpretation, it is a shocking text - even when G-d finally tells Abraham he can put down the knife because he was only being tested.  It's hard not to wonder what kind of a G-d would test a man's faith by asking him to sacrifice his own child. G-d asks Abraham to sacrifice Isaac because he knows that there is nothing more precious to a parent than his/her own child.  (How is it possible that anyone could still think otherwise?)

It's impossible for me not to make parallels to our own story of losing Max and wonder what G-d's role in his death must have been. I do sometimes wonder if we are being tested - if this could possibly be G-d's way of seeing whether we can handle this, whether we will become more or less faithful, whether we will become bitter or enlightened.  But, I realize that I am giving myself WAY too much credit when I start thinking like this.  I am not Abraham - and my child was not spared. And, then the finality of it - the sick realization that my son is never coming back (which I know I SHOULD realize by now - but I still kind of don't), becomes real once again. This leads to the next set of thoughts, which roll around and around a kind of fatalist set of beliefs that don't serve me at all:

• There is no meaning in our lives
• Whether we are "good" or "bad" has no impact at all on what is to become of us in this lifetime
• Do we all just return to dust in the ground?
• Etc, etc, etc......

Depressing.  I am sure you can tell by now that these holidays weigh heavily on my soul - as do so many things - birthdays, anniversaries, "firsts" that will never be. 

In a few weeks (October 7), Max would be turning five.  FIVE.  I see photos of my friend's children who were supposed to be Maxie's lifelong friends, and they are almost five, and I cannot relate or understand or shake the shock from my brain. Max would be in Kindergarten.  I try not to think about it too much - but holy shit - MAX WOULD BE FIVE.  It's so effing unfair, it takes my breath away.

In the weeks leading up to Max's past birthdays, I've been busy putting together invitations to his Birthday Benefit, collecting silent auction items, pestering people to come to the fundraiser that I am putting together in his honor.  I tell everyone about the activities I've planned - art projects for kids, beer and food and drinks, superheroes, awesome auction items....  You'd think that the whole exercise was giving me a sense of purpose to pour myself into - but I think you'd be somewhat mistaken. 

There will be no Birthday Benefit this year - and it is in large part because we moved, and we have three little ones, and I don't have the network here that I had in LA, or the perfect spot to throw a great fundraising party. I still feel deeply committed to the work of First Candle and I am grateful for the support that they have given me over these past few years.  But, I am also happy to have the excuse not to plan this year.  Because it takes so much out of me emotionally, and running around with a big smile on my face during an event memorializing my child feels somewhat inauthentic to me.  I hope that it will change with time but I just cannot be sure.

What I know is this - not doing an event does not mean I am over it, or getting past it, or so focused on my living children that I have forgotten about my beloved first.  No.  I am still longing, missing, and questioning all of the time. Always hanging on to the hope that there is meaning in this loss - and that someday we will be together again. 

Mace Six Months

Macie is six months old today. He has big blue eyes, awesome stick straight hair that falls right down the center of his head, and always a big open-mouthed smile. He rolls over, loves rice cereal, and is still a tummy time champ as evidenced by this photo - shot during this morning's six month photo shoot.

I'm not sure if I believe in reincarnation, but if I did, this would be the kid carrying Maxie's spirit. Their personalities are so alike. And when Macie looks at you, it's as if he can see straight into your soul - very much like his biggest brother. 

He's still his own little guy though and we are all CRAZY about him!!!

Mo 3 Years Old

It's a few weeks late but our Mo is three years old (click here for the recap of year one and his second year photo)! His birthday was the same day that Macie turned five months. We had an awesome birthday party for him the following weekend, in the middle of which Mo announced "Let's have a dance party!" So, Ted set the kids up with an outdoor speaker and they had a dance party. That's our kid for sure!!!

Mo has an awesome vocabulary, he is so friendly and playful. He loves dinosaurs, superheroes, Halloween and pumpkins. He still loves playing drums and he especially loves his little sister and brother. We are so lucky he's ours!!!

Superhero Strength

I haven't been writing much lately.

To be honest, I am beginning to feel like my emotions might be too private, complicated and hard to share. I also feel like the further we get in time from the day we lost Max, the more people expect us to be ok.

I can tell by the way that some friends share their heartache with me - as if I am living an easy and comfortable life and can in no way relate to their feelings that life has been unfair to them and that the dreams that they had for their future are so far unrealized.

I can tell by the way that I sometimes get swept into drama and lashing out from others about stuff that feels very small to me in the grand scheme of my life - stuff that pales in comparison to where I've been, what I've seen, and what life looks like to me today.

I can tell by the way that people assume that I, too,  believe that "everything happens for a reason" just because they believe that and it is how they help themselves feel better about Maxie's death and reconcile the awesomeness of our new and big happy family. It seems like a nice little package when you simply tack "Everything happens for a reason" onto our story and keep on moving.

It's become too hard for me to explain what being a bereaved parent and missing Maxie feels like today. It is just easier now to mostly keep it to myself than to share it with anyone other than Ted and other parents like us (who've lost children). When I try to share it - even with those who are supposed to be closest to me - I can tell they don't get it. What's more is that I can tell that they don't really want to get it. It's yesterday's news already.

So, I compile these thoughts for those of you reading who are the newly bereaved.

There will come a time soon (ish) when everyone will think you are "over it" (or at least they will be over it and think you should be too). Everyone will begin to see your life as normal again (because there will eventually be a "normalcy" to it - a completely reconstructed, alternate-universe kind of normal). People will get angry with you about the things you've said since and immediately following the death of your child and will bring it all up now that they believe you are strong and ready to apologize. They are nitpicking. You don't need to apologize. The people that love you should have been (and should still be) more patient with you.

I know that you are still not "normal". I know that you will never really be.  And, I know that you know that too. I also know that when you try to really tell someone (who isn't a bereaved parent) that you don't feel normal they will likely reply with something like, "who is really normal anyway?" - and they won't really be getting it because your entire perception of reality shifted in an instant and cannot change back no matter what you do.

I know you feel misunderstood and alone in these early days.  That feeling will change - but it won't go away. The only thing that will happen is that you will learn to deal with it. You will become stronger. You will get used to friends and family brushing aside your heartbreak and pain because they don't believe it anymore and frankly, they are bored and sort of want you to pay attention to their issues already.  And, just like the "normal thing", when you try to tell them how broken you are - they will let you know that, "everyone is broken in their own way". They have no way of knowing that everything that you thought was broken in you before (the loss of your child), every drama and heartache you experienced, every argument, every anxious filled moment was NOTHING in comparison to the broken you know today.

The fact is that your newly found strength (that you would trade in an instant to have one more minute with your child) will become part of the reason why your heartbreak is ignored. And, I guess that is ok - because you will be able to handle it. You have super human strength now to get through anything life throws at you and I am truly, deeply sorry.

Maxie's Candles

Thank you for remembering Max by lighting a candle. Hearing from so many of you really feels good. 

Mace five months

Our Macie is five months old today. He is SO cute. He loves rolling over and pushing onto his knees like he is going to start crawling. He is cutting his first tooth on the bottom left and likes to try and stick his whole fist in his mouth to teeth on. He has the best smile and infectious laugh. He's so perfect! We adore him! He is also the favorite of both older siblings and he loves the attention!