Joel Lives
Our son lives in heaven, we live on earth. The story of how we met, our separation, and the path to our reunion.
Joel Lives
When You're Having Fun
You are the most generous, caring, PATIENT people I know.
I can't believe you're still here.
A MONTH.
WHERE did it go?
Well, around here it has been beautiful, chaotic, sleep deprived, stunning, scary, elated, sad, overwhelming, blissful, random, nothing and everything like we thought it would be. {I have 73 more adjectives for you but I kind of figured I might be testing your patience already.}
We brought two babies home. Two babies who were born just a bit before we expected, but who needed no medical support whatsoever. Two babies who were so healthy we jumped the hospital after just two and a half days. Two babies who look everything and nothing like we expected. Two babies who LIVED.
Who LIVE.
We said goodbye to the Daddy after the most amazing two weeks. I don't know how to put into words what it is like watching someone you love rise up and be everything you ever imagined they could be. Watching them fill a role too big for anyone, and somehow doing it better than fiction. Watching them love in a way that brings tears in an instant. He is remarkable, and now he is busy being remarkable somewhere else. Being someone else. But we know he has the heart of a Daddy, and I can easily say those were the best two weeks of my life. At one point I looked over at him, our giant bed divided by a bouncy seat and a co-sleeper, filled by slumbering bundled infants and we both looked over at Joel's picture and while the tears poured down my face I simply said, "I'm just SO HAPPY." Our family was all there and it was wonderful.
And Beth came. And she did things like this:
and this:
Yes, Van is blonde. Very.
And yes, Maggie is dark. Very.
It's awesome.
Oh and this:
Oh. My. Heart.
If you are or can be near Northwest Indiana go hire her . Because duh.
And now we are adjusting to life past the first two weeks. When our little ones shifted and changed and had a rough week (Oh, week THREE, you are on my list!) and now are maybe pulling past and finding a new normal once again. Life without the Daddy but with blessed loving support from family and hopefully when good nights follow the bad. It's twice as hard to get a good night when you have two babies, they take turns with the tough times which is simultaneously great and awful. When Van sleeps for 5 hours, Maggie has awful gas pain. When she dozes for a steady four, he can't stop spitting up. And yes, I am exclusively breastfeeding both of them. Just like every other mom I know, there is a story there too, and of course the challenges were nothing like what I thought and it has been a thousand times harder than I expected but my babies are worth every painful and difficult moment.
I truly hope we are emerging from the newborn fog and I can return to this space. I have SO MUCH to say and it is physically painful to stifle. Plus I want to share a gozillion pictures so you can all tell me how cute our kids are. Right? RIGHT??? And I think the world needs to know that Van is laid back and easy going, and he always lets an arm hang off of whatever, and that I call Maggie small and mighty with her bright, bright eyes and inquisitive nature. You need to know that she has a left dimple and that Van is cold if the temperature falls below eighty. True story.
I hope. I hope. I hope. Surprisingly one of the most difficult things for me has been the fact that the chaos has reigned for so long. I did not expect to be consumed for this long and I have mentally struggled to cope with just surviving day in and day out for nearly a month. I stole these few moments today, and I have faith there are more to follow. But for now, I know that one little bum needs a clean diaper and I bet the other is shortly to follow. Duty calls. (Get it? DUTY? Hee.)
Oh,and they often get hiccups at the same time. Like right now.
So much love to you all,
SJ
I can't believe you're still here.
A MONTH.
WHERE did it go?
Well, around here it has been beautiful, chaotic, sleep deprived, stunning, scary, elated, sad, overwhelming, blissful, random, nothing and everything like we thought it would be. {I have 73 more adjectives for you but I kind of figured I might be testing your patience already.}
We brought two babies home. Two babies who were born just a bit before we expected, but who needed no medical support whatsoever. Two babies who were so healthy we jumped the hospital after just two and a half days. Two babies who look everything and nothing like we expected. Two babies who LIVED.
Who LIVE.
We said goodbye to the Daddy after the most amazing two weeks. I don't know how to put into words what it is like watching someone you love rise up and be everything you ever imagined they could be. Watching them fill a role too big for anyone, and somehow doing it better than fiction. Watching them love in a way that brings tears in an instant. He is remarkable, and now he is busy being remarkable somewhere else. Being someone else. But we know he has the heart of a Daddy, and I can easily say those were the best two weeks of my life. At one point I looked over at him, our giant bed divided by a bouncy seat and a co-sleeper, filled by slumbering bundled infants and we both looked over at Joel's picture and while the tears poured down my face I simply said, "I'm just SO HAPPY." Our family was all there and it was wonderful.
And Beth came. And she did things like this:
and this:
Yes, Van is blonde. Very.
And yes, Maggie is dark. Very.
It's awesome.
Oh and this:
Oh. My. Heart.
If you are or can be near Northwest Indiana go hire her . Because duh.
And now we are adjusting to life past the first two weeks. When our little ones shifted and changed and had a rough week (Oh, week THREE, you are on my list!) and now are maybe pulling past and finding a new normal once again. Life without the Daddy but with blessed loving support from family and hopefully when good nights follow the bad. It's twice as hard to get a good night when you have two babies, they take turns with the tough times which is simultaneously great and awful. When Van sleeps for 5 hours, Maggie has awful gas pain. When she dozes for a steady four, he can't stop spitting up. And yes, I am exclusively breastfeeding both of them. Just like every other mom I know, there is a story there too, and of course the challenges were nothing like what I thought and it has been a thousand times harder than I expected but my babies are worth every painful and difficult moment.
I truly hope we are emerging from the newborn fog and I can return to this space. I have SO MUCH to say and it is physically painful to stifle. Plus I want to share a gozillion pictures so you can all tell me how cute our kids are. Right? RIGHT??? And I think the world needs to know that Van is laid back and easy going, and he always lets an arm hang off of whatever, and that I call Maggie small and mighty with her bright, bright eyes and inquisitive nature. You need to know that she has a left dimple and that Van is cold if the temperature falls below eighty. True story.
I hope. I hope. I hope. Surprisingly one of the most difficult things for me has been the fact that the chaos has reigned for so long. I did not expect to be consumed for this long and I have mentally struggled to cope with just surviving day in and day out for nearly a month. I stole these few moments today, and I have faith there are more to follow. But for now, I know that one little bum needs a clean diaper and I bet the other is shortly to follow. Duty calls. (Get it? DUTY? Hee.)
Oh,and they often get hiccups at the same time. Like right now.
So much love to you all,
SJ
To Hold a Rainbow
They're here. We can't believe it, but they are here.
Joel"s brother and sister are really here.
It feels like if we look at them too hard, they'll disappear. But we keep doing it anyway.
Van Maggie
Gideon Van Margaret ... << MORE >>
Joel"s brother and sister are really here.
It feels like if we look at them too hard, they'll disappear. But we keep doing it anyway.
Van Maggie
Gideon Van Margaret ... << MORE >>
Quoting Inigo
Let me 'splain.
No. there is too much. Let me sum up.
We are mere days away from a full term, complication-free twin pregnancy. This is staggering and humbling on a multitude of levels, and our gratitude is truly boundless. I can tell you that I have done everything in my power to make this happen, but I know the truth of it is that we have been truly blessed. I cannot and will not take the credit for this, I know too many moms who worked too hard to get here, and circumstances beyond their control prevailed. So I will state with certainty that these circumstances were most certainly beyond our control and we have been richly blessed. We praise God daily, and loudly.
My absence in this space has been far more painful to me than I had imagined. The words come in fleeting moments and encounters and beg to be written but time, oh how precious has time become. On one hand we counted the moments left in the hourglass to some safe state for these two little lives and every day felt like an eternity as their lungs matured and their bodies gained strength. But on the other the minutes are fleeting, for as they become stronger I become weaker and less capable, my atrophy is nearly palatable.
This pregnancy has been difficult, while free of serious troubles for any of the three of us, no one would say easy. Emotionally the phases have rolled over me and tossed me about and tonight I sit peacefully awaiting Joel's siblings. It feels like we are all here, all ready, and we all know it won't be easy. But there is peace, stunning peace and suddenly the price of the journey seems small in comparison to this moment, this realization, this beautiful place where our family all fits in a ready stance, eager to move forward. Physically I am taxed in a way that has never been a part of my life before. I have driven my body to its limits repeatedly, running long distances, throwing hundreds of bales of hay, riding until burning muscles gave way to complete fatigue. But this is not that. This is utter exhaustion after tasks that barely make a to do list they are so trivial. This is chronic pain, managed by therapists and doctors and slow, hard work. This is complete weakness and surrender, acknowledgement that I simply cannot do what my mind tells me I must. So if only two hours can be had at a desk, they must be dedicated to the work that has placed the roof over our heads, and so the words linger and meander around my mind, hoping to be written another day.
And these twins, this Red and this Green who I am so sad to have missed sharing with you lately as they continue to tell me who they are and will be and who never make their Momma wonder, with a simple placement of my hand they come and push against my palm and tell me they are well. They never hesitate to reassure my worried mind, never still too long, creating even more gratitude in a mother's heart so broken and already so healed. I still wonder how well they know their brother, if he is the one who told them to be kind and responsive, and if somehow he coached his brother into the same stubborn postition, yet destined for a different birth. Having done all in my power to convince them to be born like most babies do, I easily tell you that the plan of my Lord is far better than mine, and while the reasons may be hidden from me forever, I gladly speculate that we needed this. We needed different and Joel's birth will always be his own, and these two as well. We'll give them all the time they desire, and when they are ready it will be a surgeon's skilled hand that brings them into the world and quickly to the chest of their mother, right where they belong. I feel no loss in this, simply anticipation at the sight of the faces I dream of daily, and the deep longing to hear my child cry for the very first time.
And you - you are still very much on my mind. You who say the name of my firstborn son in places of joy and worship and generosity. You who fill my inbox with loving concern as I go absent, too focused on gestation for much else, but loved and cherished nonetheless. You who drive the thoughts in my mind to share the pictures of a spendid rainbow cake made for the baby who sends the rainbows, or of this belly that defies gravity and proportion. You who make me miss this space, and realize how profoundly good people can be - you matter so much as well in my longing to write and share and participate. You who made Joel's birthday such a stunning tribute, I am grateful for every single one of you. I smile and I pine for those coveted moments when this is our regular space once again. Someday, I say, surely someday soon.
Soon. Very soon there will be three where now there is one and I promise the good news will be shared as it is known. I'm just so glad to be sharing it with you.
No. there is too much. Let me sum up.
We are mere days away from a full term, complication-free twin pregnancy. This is staggering and humbling on a multitude of levels, and our gratitude is truly boundless. I can tell you that I have done everything in my power to make this happen, but I know the truth of it is that we have been truly blessed. I cannot and will not take the credit for this, I know too many moms who worked too hard to get here, and circumstances beyond their control prevailed. So I will state with certainty that these circumstances were most certainly beyond our control and we have been richly blessed. We praise God daily, and loudly.
My absence in this space has been far more painful to me than I had imagined. The words come in fleeting moments and encounters and beg to be written but time, oh how precious has time become. On one hand we counted the moments left in the hourglass to some safe state for these two little lives and every day felt like an eternity as their lungs matured and their bodies gained strength. But on the other the minutes are fleeting, for as they become stronger I become weaker and less capable, my atrophy is nearly palatable.
This pregnancy has been difficult, while free of serious troubles for any of the three of us, no one would say easy. Emotionally the phases have rolled over me and tossed me about and tonight I sit peacefully awaiting Joel's siblings. It feels like we are all here, all ready, and we all know it won't be easy. But there is peace, stunning peace and suddenly the price of the journey seems small in comparison to this moment, this realization, this beautiful place where our family all fits in a ready stance, eager to move forward. Physically I am taxed in a way that has never been a part of my life before. I have driven my body to its limits repeatedly, running long distances, throwing hundreds of bales of hay, riding until burning muscles gave way to complete fatigue. But this is not that. This is utter exhaustion after tasks that barely make a to do list they are so trivial. This is chronic pain, managed by therapists and doctors and slow, hard work. This is complete weakness and surrender, acknowledgement that I simply cannot do what my mind tells me I must. So if only two hours can be had at a desk, they must be dedicated to the work that has placed the roof over our heads, and so the words linger and meander around my mind, hoping to be written another day.
And these twins, this Red and this Green who I am so sad to have missed sharing with you lately as they continue to tell me who they are and will be and who never make their Momma wonder, with a simple placement of my hand they come and push against my palm and tell me they are well. They never hesitate to reassure my worried mind, never still too long, creating even more gratitude in a mother's heart so broken and already so healed. I still wonder how well they know their brother, if he is the one who told them to be kind and responsive, and if somehow he coached his brother into the same stubborn postition, yet destined for a different birth. Having done all in my power to convince them to be born like most babies do, I easily tell you that the plan of my Lord is far better than mine, and while the reasons may be hidden from me forever, I gladly speculate that we needed this. We needed different and Joel's birth will always be his own, and these two as well. We'll give them all the time they desire, and when they are ready it will be a surgeon's skilled hand that brings them into the world and quickly to the chest of their mother, right where they belong. I feel no loss in this, simply anticipation at the sight of the faces I dream of daily, and the deep longing to hear my child cry for the very first time.
And you - you are still very much on my mind. You who say the name of my firstborn son in places of joy and worship and generosity. You who fill my inbox with loving concern as I go absent, too focused on gestation for much else, but loved and cherished nonetheless. You who drive the thoughts in my mind to share the pictures of a spendid rainbow cake made for the baby who sends the rainbows, or of this belly that defies gravity and proportion. You who make me miss this space, and realize how profoundly good people can be - you matter so much as well in my longing to write and share and participate. You who made Joel's birthday such a stunning tribute, I am grateful for every single one of you. I smile and I pine for those coveted moments when this is our regular space once again. Someday, I say, surely someday soon.
Soon. Very soon there will be three where now there is one and I promise the good news will be shared as it is known. I'm just so glad to be sharing it with you.
Recluse
It's never what you expect.
It is why we can't explain our grief to you, or wrap it neatly in a box or a chart or graph, and why the best grief books only make sense to those who suffer deep loss.
Surrounded by those who love me, utterly swamped by those who came here and made something so amazing, and worn down by those who are coming after, I spent Joel's birthday in awe, in grief, in celebration.
And the days that came after, his days, followed in a daze ... << MORE >>
It is why we can't explain our grief to you, or wrap it neatly in a box or a chart or graph, and why the best grief books only make sense to those who suffer deep loss.
Surrounded by those who love me, utterly swamped by those who came here and made something so amazing, and worn down by those who are coming after, I spent Joel's birthday in awe, in grief, in celebration.
And the days that came after, his days, followed in a daze ... << MORE >>
One
One year ago, this one face, made us three.
And made me a Momma.
His Momma.
It has been a bigger responsibility than I ever could have imagined, little man.
And I wouldn't change a single thing about who you are.
Happy Birthday Joel James!
*For every comment on this post I will donate $1 to Friends of Maddie up to $100 as Joel's birthday present. Please chime in, I'd love an excuse to max this donation and for the heavens to roar with birthday wishes for a baby boy so dearly loved and missed.*
And made me a Momma.
His Momma.
It has been a bigger responsibility than I ever could have imagined, little man.
And I wouldn't change a single thing about who you are.
Happy Birthday Joel James!
*For every comment on this post I will donate $1 to Friends of Maddie up to $100 as Joel's birthday present. Please chime in, I'd love an excuse to max this donation and for the heavens to roar with birthday wishes for a baby boy so dearly loved and missed.*
Third and Goal
These pictures were taken yesterday, on Joel's due date. (The first one)
So Monkey decided to make a cameo, he finds the belly to be a delightful hangout spot. It looks rather comfy, no?
Well, comfy unless you grew to this proportion in just 27 weeks and a couple days.
I had a routine check with Dr. Incredible and I'm measuring at about where a singleton would be at 35 weeks; I'd say that looks about right. I'm pretty close to as big as I ever got with Joel, so from here on out we're in new territory for my body. And for as much as I feel the difference between letting your body grow at a natural rate and amping up the speed, and I certainly notice the fact I am processing double the normal blood volume, I have to say I'm pretty impressed with how the old bod is keeping up. I'm 35, and not ashamed. In fact, I'm rather proud considering how fit I've become over the last 15 years and how good I feel most of the time. We are doing chock full of awesome considering the proximity of my pregnancies, my age, multiples and that we are now in the third trimester so hey - go me!
The babies were once again both breech. They've spent nearly this entire pregnancy in that position and I am becoming concerned about the lack of time and space left for them to shift. Those of you who have known me a while have seen me when I have a goal and a plan - I am kicking it in high gear to give them the chance to turn. Between the entire medical team and my spouse there are a few theories floating around why I keep growing breech babies, and I think they all have some validity, so I am fighting them tooth and nail. I didn't realize how important it was to me until I began to face down the reality that they may not turn.
*Sidebar: I KNOW the number one priority is healthy babies. I KNOW we can have a surgical birth and all three be just fine. I WILL accept this if I must.
Because of Joel's birth there is something in me that desperately needs to birth these babies naturally. If I have to let it go, I will, but I am not one to go down without a fight and right now I still have choices. I am going to give these two every opportunity to get their little noggins where they belong before I accept that reality. A singleton would have a lot more time, the Peppers are going to run out of room to make the maneuver much sooner. Remember those abs I mentioned? They are part of what is working against us. With a nearly full term belly you can still trace the lines of my oblique muscles down my sides. A tight stomach is not a breech baby's friend; I can't do anything about that but encourage them to move as soon as possible before they have no choice.
I have researched this like, well, like a lawyer. Which means from every angle, looking at studies and medical research and every attempted methodology. I've been seeing a chiropractor for a while now and will continue. The working theory is that I've had some imbalances in my physiology for a very long time that likely contributed to Joel's position, and are continuing to do the same to the Peppers. We are trying to work them out, but adding physical therapy to the mix to push muscles long locked in unhealthy patterns into a better place to allow my pelvis to work the way it should. I am also aggressively employing methods at home having to do with contorting myself into various positions multiple times per day and encouraging the babies to move with ice, music and light. Sound crazy? Walk in my shoes a day, this is the least of my crazy.
I really, really need this to work. The thought of giving it up has been sending me into a tailspin. Am I looking for a do-over? Probably something like that, but I need it in a way that I'm having a hard time articulating, so will you pray for the Peppers to turn? I know it sounds silly, and in the big picture this is not the most important thing but it is really, really important to me.
I know I don't write about my faith as much as I used to. It isn't that I have less, it's that somehow it feels assumed to me lately. In case you're wondering, I've placed in all in God's hands. It's where these babies have and will spend their entire lives, whatever that may be, and I know it is where I am safe. He controls the outcome of every endeavor, and I know that my role is limited. I'm just doing my part, and waiting to see what wonders the God of the universe has in store for us all.
So Monkey decided to make a cameo, he finds the belly to be a delightful hangout spot. It looks rather comfy, no?
Well, comfy unless you grew to this proportion in just 27 weeks and a couple days.
I had a routine check with Dr. Incredible and I'm measuring at about where a singleton would be at 35 weeks; I'd say that looks about right. I'm pretty close to as big as I ever got with Joel, so from here on out we're in new territory for my body. And for as much as I feel the difference between letting your body grow at a natural rate and amping up the speed, and I certainly notice the fact I am processing double the normal blood volume, I have to say I'm pretty impressed with how the old bod is keeping up. I'm 35, and not ashamed. In fact, I'm rather proud considering how fit I've become over the last 15 years and how good I feel most of the time. We are doing chock full of awesome considering the proximity of my pregnancies, my age, multiples and that we are now in the third trimester so hey - go me!
The babies were once again both breech. They've spent nearly this entire pregnancy in that position and I am becoming concerned about the lack of time and space left for them to shift. Those of you who have known me a while have seen me when I have a goal and a plan - I am kicking it in high gear to give them the chance to turn. Between the entire medical team and my spouse there are a few theories floating around why I keep growing breech babies, and I think they all have some validity, so I am fighting them tooth and nail. I didn't realize how important it was to me until I began to face down the reality that they may not turn.
*Sidebar: I KNOW the number one priority is healthy babies. I KNOW we can have a surgical birth and all three be just fine. I WILL accept this if I must.
Because of Joel's birth there is something in me that desperately needs to birth these babies naturally. If I have to let it go, I will, but I am not one to go down without a fight and right now I still have choices. I am going to give these two every opportunity to get their little noggins where they belong before I accept that reality. A singleton would have a lot more time, the Peppers are going to run out of room to make the maneuver much sooner. Remember those abs I mentioned? They are part of what is working against us. With a nearly full term belly you can still trace the lines of my oblique muscles down my sides. A tight stomach is not a breech baby's friend; I can't do anything about that but encourage them to move as soon as possible before they have no choice.
I have researched this like, well, like a lawyer. Which means from every angle, looking at studies and medical research and every attempted methodology. I've been seeing a chiropractor for a while now and will continue. The working theory is that I've had some imbalances in my physiology for a very long time that likely contributed to Joel's position, and are continuing to do the same to the Peppers. We are trying to work them out, but adding physical therapy to the mix to push muscles long locked in unhealthy patterns into a better place to allow my pelvis to work the way it should. I am also aggressively employing methods at home having to do with contorting myself into various positions multiple times per day and encouraging the babies to move with ice, music and light. Sound crazy? Walk in my shoes a day, this is the least of my crazy.
I really, really need this to work. The thought of giving it up has been sending me into a tailspin. Am I looking for a do-over? Probably something like that, but I need it in a way that I'm having a hard time articulating, so will you pray for the Peppers to turn? I know it sounds silly, and in the big picture this is not the most important thing but it is really, really important to me.
I know I don't write about my faith as much as I used to. It isn't that I have less, it's that somehow it feels assumed to me lately. In case you're wondering, I've placed in all in God's hands. It's where these babies have and will spend their entire lives, whatever that may be, and I know it is where I am safe. He controls the outcome of every endeavor, and I know that my role is limited. I'm just doing my part, and waiting to see what wonders the God of the universe has in store for us all.
The Waning Days of Sprout
So it's June.
All of a sudden I have so much to say, and yet less time than ever to say it. Some of it might need to be said, some is probably better left unsaid, but every single day is mired in deep, deep memories of this day, and this day, and this day last year.
May 15 - graduate law school, rotund but sassy. Tell Sprout we made it, you can be born anytime you want.
May 26 - finally find the time for some maternity photos with Jilly.
June 1 - grin knowing we will have a June baby for sure, this is it!
June 3 - Sprout's due date
June 4 - Sprout's other due date (they can never really make up their mind about these things, can they?)
...and then the blurry days of inevitability and the slow motion of impatient waiting, followed by shock and grief.
Joel's first birthday is June 9. My mom and my sister will come, and we will make him a special cake. We'll eat it too, because cake is eaten in my house. 1:45am is early, I'm still pretty sure I will be awake. I still can't tell his birth story, I realized the other day it is because it is ugly and horrifying and I have no desire to have those things affiliated with my son. I remember enough, and honestly the less, the better. My counselor is working me through the vivid memories that won't heal, and I've decided that this is one situation where remembering the good and forgetting the bad is alright. I don't need the rest and neither does Joel.
The NICU stories are slowly and tearfully making their way to the page. I may try to tell some of them here but I'm still not sure. I thought for sure by now, a year later, I'd have so many things chronicled, memorialized, tidily in place. But our home with the unhung photos and this blog with the untold stories are proof that the chaos of grief is not my slave. It will come, and for today that is enough.
If you would have bought Joel a gift for his birthday, or if you are just so moved, will you instead spend those funds supporting a NICU family through Friends of Maddie ? Don't feel obligated, I just want somewhere for that goodwill to go, and I know every single day babies around the country enter the NICU with loving and confused families in tow. I will be donating per comment on Joel's birthday post, so please stop by and wish him happy birthday so I have an excuse to support struggling families.
Thank you. Thank you for being here, for loving me, and loving Joel. Every day right now is harder than the last but I am perpetually supported by this online community and of course my friends and family. You are such a big part of what has made the last 358 days survivable.
Thank you.
All of a sudden I have so much to say, and yet less time than ever to say it. Some of it might need to be said, some is probably better left unsaid, but every single day is mired in deep, deep memories of this day, and this day, and this day last year.
May 15 - graduate law school, rotund but sassy. Tell Sprout we made it, you can be born anytime you want.
May 26 - finally find the time for some maternity photos with Jilly.
June 1 - grin knowing we will have a June baby for sure, this is it!
June 3 - Sprout's due date
June 4 - Sprout's other due date (they can never really make up their mind about these things, can they?)
...and then the blurry days of inevitability and the slow motion of impatient waiting, followed by shock and grief.
Joel's first birthday is June 9. My mom and my sister will come, and we will make him a special cake. We'll eat it too, because cake is eaten in my house. 1:45am is early, I'm still pretty sure I will be awake. I still can't tell his birth story, I realized the other day it is because it is ugly and horrifying and I have no desire to have those things affiliated with my son. I remember enough, and honestly the less, the better. My counselor is working me through the vivid memories that won't heal, and I've decided that this is one situation where remembering the good and forgetting the bad is alright. I don't need the rest and neither does Joel.
The NICU stories are slowly and tearfully making their way to the page. I may try to tell some of them here but I'm still not sure. I thought for sure by now, a year later, I'd have so many things chronicled, memorialized, tidily in place. But our home with the unhung photos and this blog with the untold stories are proof that the chaos of grief is not my slave. It will come, and for today that is enough.
If you would have bought Joel a gift for his birthday, or if you are just so moved, will you instead spend those funds supporting a NICU family through Friends of Maddie ? Don't feel obligated, I just want somewhere for that goodwill to go, and I know every single day babies around the country enter the NICU with loving and confused families in tow. I will be donating per comment on Joel's birthday post, so please stop by and wish him happy birthday so I have an excuse to support struggling families.
Thank you. Thank you for being here, for loving me, and loving Joel. Every day right now is harder than the last but I am perpetually supported by this online community and of course my friends and family. You are such a big part of what has made the last 358 days survivable.
Thank you.
Saturation
It's like walking around in a photograph with the colors dialed up too high in Photoshop, this life right now. The first baby demands my attention vehemently. His due date hovers; appointments are made for that day, a summer show premiers, and then his birthday winks at me from around the corner, duly noted with joy and dread.
And all the small reminders still lurk, like the stray blue pillowcases from the sheets that were on the bed when he was born. I was wrapped in one sheet and placed in an ambulance, it was discarded at the hospital. But the pillowcases remain, a scattered remnant of a night relived again and again. Those summer shows are coming back, the ones I watched in the waning days of slow motion and relaxation, waiting for signs, being tricked nightly as contractions would wax and then wane. A basket full of cards, relocated for painters, but carefully placed back out, isn't ready to be put away.
But these two coming after shine with equal intensity. Their movements demand acknowledgement as they grow and their space is slowly becoming restricted. This body aches and complains with the sudden changes of two where only one was meant to live, and preparations must be made. That in itself is like mixing a set of the most brightly hued paints, swirling in a bucket as I sob over the clothes he never wore, but must smile and plan for his siblings to take up the task.
There are cribs to set up, the changing table will come back down and sit in the place where it stood the day he was born. The cradle will resume a spot at the end of my bed and the thought of it there makes me ache as if I were being torn to shreds, but then Red kicks me so hard I gasp, and Green wiggles into a rib. It isn't even that I can't figure out how to love the three of them, but that loving them is so demanding right now. It is intense in every way, there are no quiet days to muse, there is always something big and bright and glowing with the intensity of the sun to spin my poor heart this way and then that. Everything is so very big, so very important, so very right. this. minute.
It's hard to steal the minutes to dedicate to one or the other. I used to do that a lot, just give Joel all of me for a sneaky half hour, sitting in the nursery, rocking in the chair where we never cuddled, crying into a blanket made for the boy I talk to all day long, sobbing apology after apology and doting on thoughts of reunion. Just missing him and doing nothing else, loving him and wanting him and losing myself in being his mother here without him. Or squealing with delight at the two munchkins who wiggle and squirm and have soccer tournaments in my torso, letting them be my sole focus, promising them more, vowing to get it right, believing they will make it and dreaming of a twosome wandering with the Daddy and me on our adventures.
Now that feels impossible. Neither will allow me a moment with the other and I'm not angry, just torn and sad and exhausted from leaping from massive emotion to massive emotion. This time of year is so clearly reminiscent of when Joel was here, it feels like it should be all his but this burgeoning belly isn't his anymore, it belongs to Red and Green. I want Joel to have all of me, I feel like he deserves it and missing him right now demands that and more. I want Red to have all of me, my second son deserves no less than my first and his rabid objections to all things cold and enthusiasm for Kool-Aid and yogurt demand it as well. And Ms. Green should have all of me too. The daughter I somehow never imagined I'd have should have a raptly devoted mother, attentive to making sure her entrance is never foreshadowed by anyone, let alone those two silly boys, no one will put my baby in a corner.
So I wander these days, exhausted, looking backward and forward in a perpetual state of high emotion and whiplash. Pregnant and mourning, alone and surrounded, Mother to three and to none.
And all the small reminders still lurk, like the stray blue pillowcases from the sheets that were on the bed when he was born. I was wrapped in one sheet and placed in an ambulance, it was discarded at the hospital. But the pillowcases remain, a scattered remnant of a night relived again and again. Those summer shows are coming back, the ones I watched in the waning days of slow motion and relaxation, waiting for signs, being tricked nightly as contractions would wax and then wane. A basket full of cards, relocated for painters, but carefully placed back out, isn't ready to be put away.
But these two coming after shine with equal intensity. Their movements demand acknowledgement as they grow and their space is slowly becoming restricted. This body aches and complains with the sudden changes of two where only one was meant to live, and preparations must be made. That in itself is like mixing a set of the most brightly hued paints, swirling in a bucket as I sob over the clothes he never wore, but must smile and plan for his siblings to take up the task.
There are cribs to set up, the changing table will come back down and sit in the place where it stood the day he was born. The cradle will resume a spot at the end of my bed and the thought of it there makes me ache as if I were being torn to shreds, but then Red kicks me so hard I gasp, and Green wiggles into a rib. It isn't even that I can't figure out how to love the three of them, but that loving them is so demanding right now. It is intense in every way, there are no quiet days to muse, there is always something big and bright and glowing with the intensity of the sun to spin my poor heart this way and then that. Everything is so very big, so very important, so very right. this. minute.
It's hard to steal the minutes to dedicate to one or the other. I used to do that a lot, just give Joel all of me for a sneaky half hour, sitting in the nursery, rocking in the chair where we never cuddled, crying into a blanket made for the boy I talk to all day long, sobbing apology after apology and doting on thoughts of reunion. Just missing him and doing nothing else, loving him and wanting him and losing myself in being his mother here without him. Or squealing with delight at the two munchkins who wiggle and squirm and have soccer tournaments in my torso, letting them be my sole focus, promising them more, vowing to get it right, believing they will make it and dreaming of a twosome wandering with the Daddy and me on our adventures.
Now that feels impossible. Neither will allow me a moment with the other and I'm not angry, just torn and sad and exhausted from leaping from massive emotion to massive emotion. This time of year is so clearly reminiscent of when Joel was here, it feels like it should be all his but this burgeoning belly isn't his anymore, it belongs to Red and Green. I want Joel to have all of me, I feel like he deserves it and missing him right now demands that and more. I want Red to have all of me, my second son deserves no less than my first and his rabid objections to all things cold and enthusiasm for Kool-Aid and yogurt demand it as well. And Ms. Green should have all of me too. The daughter I somehow never imagined I'd have should have a raptly devoted mother, attentive to making sure her entrance is never foreshadowed by anyone, let alone those two silly boys, no one will put my baby in a corner.
So I wander these days, exhausted, looking backward and forward in a perpetual state of high emotion and whiplash. Pregnant and mourning, alone and surrounded, Mother to three and to none.
Comic
We have a new character in our cast. Her name is Dr. Doom.
:smirk:
The doctor I was forced to see last week (Dr. Incredible and Midwife Amazing were out) is one I encountered before. One who looked me in the eye after reading my chart and said, wide-eyed, "WHY would anyone have a baby at HOME?"
My fist thought was, "To avoid people like YOU, lady." But I'm polite so I said, "Actually the research supports the safety of home birth, if you take the time to read it all." ... << MORE >>
:smirk:
The doctor I was forced to see last week (Dr. Incredible and Midwife Amazing were out) is one I encountered before. One who looked me in the eye after reading my chart and said, wide-eyed, "WHY would anyone have a baby at HOME?"
My fist thought was, "To avoid people like YOU, lady." But I'm polite so I said, "Actually the research supports the safety of home birth, if you take the time to read it all." ... << MORE >>
In Limbo
I’ve been a bit frightened.
Now I’m less frightened and more frustrated.
Back up.
Joel’s pregnancy was truly idyllic. When we discovered we were pregnant a bit sooner than we’d expected we were absolutely thrilled. But we were also a little concerned. My only sister who has children becomes very ill ...
<< MORE >>