My Pictures and Videos

When Maxie was alive, we took lots of photos of him.  I wanted to remember all of his moments and looks as he grew.  I wanted to share him as much as possible with his Gigi and Papa, his Auntie Beth and Cousin Sadie on the east coast.  I wanted to have lots of memories to show him when he got older.  Thank god for all of the photos we took, they are all I have left of our baby boy.  I kick myself every day for not taking more videos.  I can't figure out why we didn't...I mean, our phones have video cameras on them these days!  What the hell were we thinking?  Certainly not that our baby would die....

I am taking lots of photos and videos of Mo.  I want to remember every minute, I want to share him with his East Coast family, I want to show him when he grows up how cute he was when he was little.  I also want to make sure I capture every smile, every funny face, every playful interaction, every snuggle, every THING so that if I lost him (god forbid) I would remember all of these things.  I know you don't approve and you don't want to hear it.  But, every time I take a photo or a video of Mo, I think, "I will want to remember this in case we lose him too".  My phone and camera are quickly filling up.  I feel like I can't delete any of his pictures...if I do and I lose him, I won't be able to get the pictures back.  It is one of the many neuroses brought on by losing my son.  I worry that I don't have enough images of other people in my life too - Ted, my mom, my dad, my brother.  If they die, will I forget how they held their glass or how they couldn't carry a tune?  Will I forget their laugh?  Will I forget their voice?  There isn't a hard drive big enough for all that I need to document.

Ted and I have always sort of made fun of the people that video everything.  You know...those people in line at Disneyland who have their camera and are videoing the line, the ride, their snacks.  They are all over Costa Rica and other vacation spots, videoing the van ride to the zip line place, videoing the zip line, videoing lunch afterwards.  I get it now....even though I don't think they are making "in case someone in this video dies" videos.  I get it, even though those "in case someone in this video dies" are the kind of videos and picture I take.

Celebrating Maxie

I am struggling with something that I can hardly explain.  My heart and my mind are pulling me in two different directions and from what I can tell, it is only going to get worse with time.

I am working so hard to act normal.  To get together with friends and family, to laugh at people's jokes and make them myself, to enjoy this life as much as possible...because I have to be here.  At the same time, when I act normal, people treat me like nothing has happened and that makes me sad.  Not for me, but for Maxie.  I am afraid that people will forget him.  He was only here for nine and half months.  My biggest fear is that he won't be remembered.  I have to remind myself that Ted and I will never ever forget him even for one minute.  It is up to us to keep his memory alive.  Maybe eventually, we just do that with each other because sooner or later, people will stop caring.

A friend came to visit us last weekend and as he left, he said that he was impressed with how we are dealing with our grief.  That is what impressed him - because we shared stories, and laughed and joked, and drank beers and watched a movie together.  We probably seem like we are moving right along.  It's true that we are doing our best.  It isn't true that we are moving right along.  And, I really don't ever want to because I am afraid that I will leave Maxie behind.  Not in my heart (NEVER in my heart) but in my effort to keep his spirit alive.  People will eventually (are already....were already at five weeks after his death) get sick of hearing me talking about him.  People will eventually get sick of smiling politely at me while I talk about my dead son.  Ugh.  I hate this!!!!

Maxie's birthday this year was very hard.  We know it will be hard every year.  We have decided that we want to celebrate his birthday with our annual benefit.  The 2012 Benefit for Maxie's Forest was such a terrific success.  We hope that the 2013 Benefit will be just as successful, even though it will be in October and will likely benefit Maxie's First Candle Fund.  We have a whole year to plan but I'd like to put it out there now.  If you have any great ideas for a fundraiser, have any great items for a silent auction (hotel stays, vacation homes, restaurants, jewelry, gifts.....), know of any terrific venues that would be willing to lend us space... we would be so appreciative.

I am trying to find my new normal but it has to include Max.  This will be one of the few times per year that I will get to feel comfortable just being out there celebrating my baby and the HUGE impact he has had on my life.

I miss him every minute of every day.  He is more special to me than he was yesterday and more yesterday than the day before.  His heart is my heart.  I am missing my Maxie....like crazy.

Thank you SO much to everyone who contributed to Maxie's Fund for his second birthday.  We received notice of all of your donations from First Candle.  They meant so much to us!

Three Months Old

Our Baby is Three Months Old!

He is SO special!  We love him SOOOOOOOO much!

Back to work

Going back to work doesn't sound like a big transition, I know.  Afterall, I will be working from home and my house is pretty small.  But, it FEELS like a big transition.  I won't be the one playing with Mo all day.  I won't be the one to put him down for all of his naps or the one to decipher all of his moods.  Sure, I can pop my head in any time I want.  I can even take long breaks and take over...but, it won't be the same.  And, since the only thing in the world that has brought me any peace since Max died is Mo, I am scared and sad.  I feel like I miss him when he is just in the next room.  I missed Max the same way....I missed him when he slept at night.

I love Mo so much it scares me.  He is my most important living person.  I don't want to miss out on anything.

Decoding

When people say:
"Mazel Tov" or "Congratulations" upon seeing Mo
or
"You seem to be doing so well"
or
"I'm so glad to see you" when they haven't seen me since Max died
or
"How is work?" or similarly, "What's new?"

I think that what they really mean to say, but can't bring themselves to is,
"I am SO sorry that Max died.  This couldn't have happened to more undeserving people.  I hope that you never know pain like this again".

Right?

Homely

As long as I am bragging about how brave and honest I am:

I am embarrassed to say that I am feeling pretty homely these days.  It should be about the very last thing on my mind, but whatever - I am human.  My hair has only been cut twice all year, I died it a darkish brown that I am not loving (although I got some highlights done a few weeks ago- by Ted - that is for an entirely different post.  Turns out Ted is very good at doing my highlights.  I may never need to go to a salon again), my boobs are HUGE and not in a good way (luckily, my husband thinks that huge boobs are always "in a good way"), I have about 15 pounds to lose, and I am still wearing maternity clothes.  My transitional clothes after Maxie was born were almost all work clothes, so I have pencil skirts, slacks, cardigans and silky blouses that fit but I am not about to wear those around my house or to the Saturday Farmer's Market.  I wasn't lying about wearing the same two pairs of sweats for 15 months now.  One pair is green, one pair is grey.  I wear them every day.  When I leave the house, I put on one of two pairs of maternity pants and one of my five or so maternity shirts.  The pants are always falling down because there is no waist band, just stretchy material panels that pull up to my gigantic chest.  I finally caved and bought new sweats but that doesn't really help me with the "leaving the house" wardrobe and I am actually leaving the house more and more.

So, after lunch with a friend on Thursday, I dragged Mozie to the Burbank Nordstrom Rack in search of a few good transitional items.  We spent about an hour in there.  I searched the "casual" section, the "juniors" section, and the "plus size" section and ended up with about 20 pieces to try on.  We got a big dressing room and got to work.  I hadn't even tried on one item when Mo started crying and chewing on his fists...so, I sat on the bench and nursed him.  Somehow the lighting in dressing rooms are never optimal.  I wished the bench hadn't been facing the mirror, giving me a shot of myself, shirtless, nursing my sweet boy - it didn't do much for my self-esteen.  I also looked up and read the sign telling me that the dressing rooms were being monitored by video camera.  AWESOME!

After he was done nursing, I burped him and he spat up over my shoulder right onto the bench.  Neat!  Luckily it didn't land in a pile of the clothes I was about to try on.  I laid him back into the stroller and then - loud poop!  So, I got him back out of the stroller and changed the poopy diaper on the bench.  Of course, I've now been in this dressing room for about 20 minutes and I haven't tried on one piece of clothing.  So, I got Mo all cleaned up, put him back in the stroller and got to the task at hand.

Why oh why do things look SO much better on the hangers?  I worked my way through shirts and sweaters and pants.  NOTHING fit!  UNTIL.......one pair of jeans....one pair of "NOT YOUR DAUGHTER'S JEANS" Jeans.  What has become of me?!!!  Even my own mother was wearing a cute pair of "Seven for all mankind" jeans the last time I saw her.  I couldn't do it, but not because I am above NYDJ Jeans, mostly because I am pretty sure that they will only fit for another month.  So, I am waiting to lose a little more weight before purchasing my NYDJ jeans.  Ay Caramba or just plain "Ay", as my Mo says.

I couldn't leave empty handed, so on the way out, I loaded up my cart with a bunch of the register crap - eye shadow, lip moisturizer, nail polish, eye makeup remover....I'll be all made up in my new navy sweats.  Mission totally not accomplished.  And, now that I am done posting, I am going to go decide which pair of maternity pants to wear to the Farmer's Market today.

In response to your comment

When I post about being angry and full of rage, I am being honest.  I think it is an emotion that most people feel at one point or another.  I am in a period of my life when I am feeling it a lot.  I suppose that is something that I should feel ashamed about, as an anonymous commenter posted (twice?) on my blog.  I just found the comments now.  I guess he/she must have written them earlier.  Sometimes I don't see your comments to publish them for up to a few days, I am not being "cowardly", I am being busy....with a newborn!  Be patient...I'll post your comment.  But, speaking of cowardly, how come all of the really insulting comments are posted by "anonymous"?  I am me, telling you how I feel.  If you want to comment, I encourage you to be yourself.  Anyway, anonymous, I totally agree with you.  Anger and rage is holding me back.  It is one of the reasons that I am talking about it in therapy.  It is one of the reasons I decided to post honestly about it on my blog.  Turns out it is a very common part of grief, one of the 5-7 stages of grief in fact.  It is also a very common part of PTSD.  Yesterday, (before I read your comment this morning), I was talking to my sister in law, Beth, about how sad it makes me that Ted and I are so angry.  This isn't who we are.  This isn't who we used to be.  She told me that in this second year of grief, she feels more angry as well.  The anger isn't always directed at specific people either....but even when it is....at the heart of it is anger that Max isn't here - that our son died.  I DO think twice before I post something that will rub readers the wrong way.  I am just like you in that I would rather be liked than not liked by others (if you didn't care, you wouldn't have posted anonymously).  But, I set out to write a blog about what losing a child honestly feels like...and sometimes it is really ugly.  Anonymous, I am fairly certain that you are not a bereaved parent.  If you were, you would know the rage that I am talking about.  I am certain that you would have felt it at some point.  But, something else that I am willing to bet on, is that you are a person who has felt rage...most humans have.  Your comment to me is full of rage and hate.  My post about rage seems to have enraged you.  I'm sorry for that.  I guess I hope that you never have to experience trauma, deep pain, heartbreak and loss.  After the greatest loss imaginable, people said terrible, evil, hurtful things and I have not been able to wrap my brain around why they have done that.  Maybe you can explain it to me?  I wish I could tell you that I just let it roll off my back because "sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me".  Unfortunately, words have hurt me.  Words have been used to intentionally hurt me....like your words were used in the comment you wrote about my post.  Congrats!  Job accomplished.

Anonymous, if you would like to continue posting on my blog, I encourage you to use your name the way you use your words.  To say how you honestly feel but hide behind the name "Anonymous" is pretty cowardly (to use your words, not mine).  I actually think that to write how I really feel on a blog that has my name all over it is pretty brave.

*It has come to my attention that the anonymous comment is only visible in the mobile version of my blog, not the web version.  Also, it was in my spam comment folder, which is why I didn't see it until this morning.  Since Anonymous wanted to be posted so badly, here is what they wrote:

- To be vengeful & hateful serves no purpose. In order to move forward you have to forgive those that have caused you harm, then and only then will you make true progress in your grief. All your doing is hurting yourself in your attempt to hurt others. 

-Vengeance & hatefulness is a horrible quality. In order to progress in your grief you first have to forgive those that have hurt you (whether they meant to or not). You will NEVER move forward if you continue to blame others. I see that you post some comments but omit others, how cowardly.You use this blog as a forum to cast judgement on others but I guess its not ok for an outsider to express/cast their judgement on you or the things you blog about. I'm sure my comment isn't the first that you decided you didn't like

My PTSD

I know, I know.  I said I was going to take the high road a couple of weeks ago and now here I am again, telling you how furious I am.  Though some really awful people behaved despicably towards us (and if I told you about it, I am sure you would agree), my FURY is also an expected result of my post traumatic stress disorder.

Ted and I have watched a couple of segments on TV about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in the last few weeks.  Both segments were specifically about vets and PTSD.  Even though I haven't been to war and the experience that soldiers have had are nothing like mine, I can relate to so many of the emotions that they feel.  I can imagine that after being in a war zone, watching your friends being killed and people dying and not being able to change what has already happened would be horrific.  And, to return and see happy families and everyone still living the same happy lives and trying to relate to a culture that worships so much materialism would feel surreal.  I can imagine soldiers coming home from Afghanistan or Iraq must think the rest of us are a bunch of assholes.  I am sure I would think that - because we kind of are.

I have learned a few things about Post Traumatic Stress that I would like to share.  PTSD causes horrible flashbacks.  It's like reliving the very worst parts of your experience over and over again, while sleeping and awake and having no ability to turn them off.  They are vivid and painful and can cause a physical reaction.  PTSD also causes those who are affected to be hyper-vigilant.  We often feel like if we take our eyes off the ball (in my case the ball is Mo) for even one second, history will repeat itself.  People who have Post Traumatic Stress don't feel comfortable in crowds.   Celebrating doesn't come easy either because we often feel no cause for celebration and we are not carefree in the same way that we were or that the other people in our lives are (not that we were ever fully carefree...but rather, our problems were run of the mill problems, like most people we know have).  We know that we will be the buzz kill at any event we attend and that even if we acted normal, that behavior could be cause for people to talk about us or otherwise judge our "normalcy".  Even if they aren't judging us, I am often judging myself...wondering, "how can I feel one ounce of joy without Maxie here?"  PTSD sufferers find it very hard to compartmentalize or suppress their anger.  We have too much else to deal with all of the time emotionally...if someone pisses us off, it just adds insult to our injuries.  Because of all of these things, those of us with PTSD often isolate ourselves.  We don't want to be around other "normal" people who experience happiness, joy, full families, and "regular" stressors.

I guess it is nearly impossible to really grasp what I am telling you unless you have suffered from PTSD yourself.  Hearing about others who are suffering and learning more about it has assured me that what is happening to me is to be expected.  I also know of many other bereaved parents who have this condition.  One thing that I haven't told you yet is that I am working on my PTSD.  It has already gotten much better than it was in the first eight months after Maxie died.  I don't isolate as much.  I am more calm about Mo and less panicked about his safety and health (though still vigilant) and feel more assured that he won't die prematurely.  I find myself laughing about many different things throughout the week.  I am able to look towards the future...not too far into the future...but I can look at next month without assuming that we won't be alive anymore.  Next month, I am even trying an out of the box treatment for PTSD that I hope will help somewhat (or more than somewhat).

As another bereaved parent wrote yesterday, this loss is cataclysmic.  No matter what happens in my life, it will always feel incomplete.  I will always know that my first child is missing, that he should be here, and that it makes no sense at all that he isn't.  I gave him life and he is gone.  I will always remember the call that I got telling me that he stopped breathing.  I may never be able to shake the feeling of complete horror and devastation that I felt when he died in our arms.  My baby!  What happened to us and Max defies logic, it has sabotaged any hopes and dreams that we had for our family, for our future.  I am still shaking...I am still reeling...I am still suffering all day, every day.

FURIOUS

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

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

Zzzzzzz

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

Twelve Weeks

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

Loves of my life

Love

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he died.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sleeper

Guess who slept through the night twice this week?

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

The walking dead

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

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

Nightmares

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

Halloween 2012

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

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

Lessons

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

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

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

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

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

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

Second birthday

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

Two Years Old

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Our Beloved Baby Boy Your Smile Will Shine Always

40

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