Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Grieving hangover

So why does it seem to feel worse today than Sunday? Why is it that I seem to feel more ache, more burnout, and more empty two days after Andrew's birth/death day than on the actual day? Maybe because on his actual day I, and my family made a conscious effort to honor and remember him. Maybe because I should have taken yesterday off from work like I originally planned to do and pamper myself with holiday preparations and lounging in my bathrobe, much like I was doing after my precious Andrew left my body four long years ago.

How is it that life, the present version that is, seems to consistently impact honoring my past? Why did the first ice storm of the year have to occur on the friday prior to my preplanned pampering monday? Why did the schools have to close and the daycare lose power leaving me to spend my blessed pampering vacation day caring for children in a house with no power and stressing over the cold and ability to entertain ourselves?

I guess this is the ultimate reality of parenting. Adjusting to the moment, working with less than ideal circumstances and making the best of various difficult situations. Overcoming obstacles and smiling while doing it.

Don't get me wrong, I love my living children to pieces and really do cherish every blessed moment with them. But, they get my energy all of the time. My poor and blessed Andrew gets such a minor percentage of that attention. The least life could have done is allow me the opportunity to take my one genuinely dedicated day out of the year and LEAVE IT ALONE!

Maybe it's life presenting me with one more big opportunity to "get it". The opportunity to look at the situation and realize that my Andrew and my own mental health are more important than the myriad of expectations others place upon me. Take Monday anyway.... who cares what anyone else thinks. You don't get these times back to "do over", I've learned this....if nothing else. Or have I?????

I yearn for that opportunity to lounge in my robe and sip a warm steamy cup of coffee and just savor a little reading or the silence in my own home that seems so very absent most of the time. Just a silent moment to really listen to myself, and my Andrew, my little baby boy.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Light a candle
















We light a candle for you tonight
my Andrew, my sweet darling dear.
I wish I could hold you and bring you to me
and keep you right with me so near.

It's been four very long and tiring years,
It's been such a long and hard journey.
I've cried and I've loved, I've looked up above,
For your beating heart I'm still yearning.

Your sister, your dad, your brother and I
We remembered you during this day,
We picked out an ornament, made you a dinner,
and prayed for you in our own ways.

Be certain of this, you are terribly missed.
We'd give anything to have you here.
On this special day, we pause and we say
precious boy thank you for your fourth year.



You are so very loved.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Missing him

Hubbie is away this week. My heart aches for him to be here next to me at night. This is the loneliest time of the day. The kids are asleep and I should be too, only I can't seem to. So, I read here and think about how I would like to be making more of a difference in the lives of other people who have had this same tragic loss. Somehow bringing something "good" from such a "bad" experience seems like the only real justification to it all. It just seems like it would be a tribute to Andrew and give even more worth to his brief life.

Why does this life include so much pain? Why is it that such tragic and heart wrenching things can happen in this life when a person is doing their best and genuinely being a decent human being. I mean, I don't hurt others intentionally. I work my job every day, I am honest and fair, I genuinely try to be a decent member of society. What did I ever do to deserve the shit of losing a son?

I had a very interesting conversation with a woman at work today. She is now single and living after two brain surgeries to remove a brain tumor. She lost the sight in one eye permanently and is now disabled and no longer working. She made the comment that her tumor had been a "blessing". It "gave her back her life". She indicated that her health issues resulted in her leaving a bad marriage and moving on to rekindle relationships with friends and family who actually loved her and had her best interests at hear. She now spends her days volunteering, supporting a wonderful "ex" mother in-law, and attending college via a senior citizen's program. She will likely be renting from my organization very soon. She's loving life. In many ways I envy her.

At what point do I learn to "love life" again and say that Andrew's loss was a "blessing". I say probably never. Although I do not walk in the same darkness that enveloped me for so long after Andrew's death, I still feel the aftermath of his loss. I would however love to be able to move forward and say that Andrew's brief life inspired me to do something wonderful. I'm just no so sure what that is yet. Nor do I have the courage to pursue it, as of yet.

I want so much to continue writing the next portion of "our story" describing our experience of Andrew's loss after the initial appointment where we were told that he had died. I just feel as thought it's going to take quite some time and be overwhelming to relive it again, so close to his birth/death date. Maybe on Sunday, his anniversary I'll have the motivation and courage to work on this piece. We'll see.

For now, I miss my husband. I need his warm back to rest my head on and his wonderful ability to listen to my blather.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Missing pictures

Why is it that when I look back at the pictures lovingly stored in our Kodak picture software I find almost no pictures of my pregnancy with Andrew? My daughter, my husband, my extended family, my home, my yard, my prior pets. All of them snapped and depicted in volumes. When I try to recapture the blissful nine months I spent carrying my Andrew I find nothing. I find two poorly taken shots of me looking away from the camera or asleep, caught without my knowledge. It is very disappointing.

Does this speak to my state of mind during my pregnancy? Frankly I have never been a terribly sentimental scrapbooking type. I have the desire, but lack the follow through. I do however love to snap pics at any opportune moment. Much more so now than ever before.

I know I was busy, busier than I should have been during my pregnancy. I know I took a lot for granted. I know that I will never do this again. I know that I'd give anything for a nice shot of my smiling face, carrying Andrew and looking as happy as I felt during that pregnancy. Why can't I seem to find this? Will I? Is there some family member or even stranger out there who has such a photo? I've never pursued it. Never had the courage to ask I guess. I've only bathed in guilt, consuming me and telling me I did something wrong and likely did not deserve any memorable pregnancy pictures.

I think I do, deserve a picture.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Christmas lights






Our tree is lighting the living room behind me as I touch the keyboard. We did it, we put up the tree. A week ahead of the old schedule. A week before we celebrate, mourn, remember, and visit with Andrew. His first, second, and third Christmas ornaments are hung with care and are soon to be joined by number four. I think a Tonka truck of sort this year.

With the help of my trusty assistant, my eight year old daughter and my very nimble fingered 20 month old son we have adorned this tree with all the necessary lights, characters, handmade bells, candy canes and all the glitz that any child loves.

Andrew would have been right in the middle this year. Figuratively and literally. I wish so that he could have helped, but as I have mentioned before, he speaks to me.... if I just listen. His little gift to me today was, "slow down mommy". "Don't worry so much about making things 'look' just right. Watch and enjoy us. Think of me. Take a minute to realize how lucky you are to have this family. I am still with you even if you can't see me today, I'm here. Thank you for loving me." I thanked him back and took a moment to be thankful for all three of my beautiful children.

Midway through our tree lighting festivities I found myself on the road. I ran out of white lights. I just had to have a few more sets. I quickly drove to the local store to grab just afew.... five packs later (did I mention I am a bit obsessive sometimes?) I was on my way home to finish up with my helpers. While driving home I thought to myself how wonderful it is to have a sense that I am not alone. No longer alone. This place of wonder, this "blog" environment has given me a chance to know that there are others out there who are just like me. Who were hit in the head with a ton of bricks one day, when it was least expected. Out of the blue something was taken from me, and us, before we ever even had the chance to put up a fight. Something was taken that we nurtured for months with literally blood, sweat, and tears. It was so very unfair.

I've been a part of a group for parents who have lost a child. One other parent lost a child shortly after birth but most parents had lost a child after at least three years of life. The experience in the group has been very supportive and helpful however, reading the writing of other moms who've lost a child at or just prior to birth has been even more supportive. It's like reading things that I've had in my head. It's absolutely amazing. I'm not alone. I'm not a "freak" and I'm not a "bad person" and I'm not "guilty" of anything except being one of a very unfortunate group of women who find themselves being heart broken for a very long period of time. Fortunately at some point we find our heart again and move forward. Slowly one piece at a time, we pick up parts of our life and put them back together making once again something called... life.

So, we did it. We put up and lit the tree. And even better, I am lighting up my life.

Thank you to all and sincerely, keep sharing.

Friday, December 5, 2008

Hubbie was ill today. Scared the life out of me last night when he did not feel "right" but couldn't figure out why or what was going on. "I can't lose you too...." kept running through my head. Turns out to be an odd version of the flu.... I'm relieved... him... not so much as he is still feeling terrible.

Interesting twist was that he was our childcare source for the day. I was scheduled to work, as I do 5 annoying and full days every week, and daycare is closed for the week.

I packed up my youngest, now twenty months old, and packed him into the office. Surprise!

Taking sick days to assist one's family members seems to somehow be a sign of weakness in today's work a day world. Definately difficult when you're a mom. I have no desire to rock the boat in terms of being gainfully employed so until I find some other means of supporting myself... I'll play along and be the "good trooper". Despite my detest for this patriarchal crap.

Oddly enough my little guy behaved beautifully and made it through an entire day of work with me. Well, productivity was certainly not at an all time high but hey- the bases were covered.

On my commute home I had a strange sense of relief. Having my youngest along with me all day today at my work setting was somehow therapy, especially this time of year. Four years ago I was wrapped up in my newly received promotion at work. Pregnant and ready to have my wonderful baby and still working long hours only to have the rug snapped out from under me when I found out he had died. Now so many of my associations with that time in my life are relived this time of year as many of the tasks I do at work repeat themselves annually.

Having my second son with me for the day in that setting somehow interjected that as I honor and remember Andrew, life begins where death has had the upper hand. Loving again, both my second son and my first.............. brings life.

My hubbie is better, thank goodness. And I listened to Andrew "telling" me today that everything is ok. It's ok to love him and keep moving forward. It hurts and that's ok, and sometimes I feel ok, and that's ok too.

I miss you Andrew. Love to you this cool winter evening when I wish I was putting you in some soft jammies and tucking you in with a kiss goodnight.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Marriage and the christmas tree

We sit in the living room, the day is drawing to an end. Christmas in New York and the lighting of the Rockefeller Christmas tree loom in our future. It feels good, my oldest and me, waiting with anticipation for a fun filled hour together. I am able to feel some warmth toward the holiday and its traditions. It feels good. So does my daughter's presence.

Andrew's day draws near. Our tree is usually adorned two weeks before the holiday. Hubbie's opinion....this is the maximum lifespan of a live tree once cut. Annoyingly enough he is usually right on these things. Why do I feel the need to argue? Because I am me.

The struggle comes in the timing. Decorating the tree is the last pre-loss holiday memory I have. Sunday night, December 12, 2004 two days before we knew Andrew had passed. Every year since decorating the tree is akin to pulling rocks bound with rope up a steep hill. Draining. A chore at best.

This year the lightbulb went on, silly wandering mom......... change the date. Brilliant! Wow, however did I think of this life changing concept?

Change I say, it takes courage to make change. Especially when it involves offering up kindness to myself at a time of year when my self feels as though it should be flogged and beaten. My failure instincts take steroids and demonstrate their toned and sculpted abs. Ah, but let the beatings stop and the sympathy and compassion begin. I have conquered a small country.... I have stepped on the moon....I have crossed the ocean... Ok, I've made my point.... I changed the date of the Christmas tree!

December 7th it now is and with joy and merriment we will decorate the tree. Saving the weekend of 14th for Andrew alone. We will have tree in place and celebrate the fact that this year he would be staring at the lights, wondering what Santa would bring, hoping for the newest and brightest of the Lego sets or maybe an addition to his Thomas the Tank Engine set or maybe a new game for his Leapster pad. Who knows, the point is this day will be about moving forward and recognizing what's happening now and not just living in the past stuck with an old experience, stuck in the sadness that rightfully so has consumed me for quite some time but needs to lighten up and give life and bring Andrew with me and us along for the journey.

Blessed be change. Something old and something new, something borrowed and something blue....... wait that's not Christmas, it's a wedding. Well, it seems to fit, the marriage of the past and the present......... we've got the old and new and certainly Andrew can represents the blue but what about the borrowed?

Borrowed, I think I'll consider my courage borrowed...... from so many moms who write and share and give way to the path that is the marriage of the present and the past. Thank you for the loan, the gift of courage, it's life changing.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

The Beginning of Our Story

It all began with a pregnancy test that I took and landed on my husband's keyboard while he was chatting on-line with his best bud. He looked at me and smiled. And we were on the road again, to cravings, nausea, midnight requests for bizarre foods, and aching hips from sleeping far too long on one side all night. We were thrilled.

Me working lots of long hours at a job that was fun but yet waning in it's excitement and him trying to establish himself in the world of computers as a professional. And our little girl, who was three turning four in just a few short months and cute as a button with the chubbiest cheeks anyone could ever see.

Over those exciting months I had a promotion at work, we secured our day care slot with everything timed out to work perfectly after his arrival. We had the pre-requisite ultrasounds and prenatal care. I had the ever important adorable maternity clothing that makes one feel attractive even though they are slowly developing the need for their own zip code.

We moved into the 2004 holiday season and my stomach was large and prepared to bring forth my family's first male grandchild. It was so exciting. We chose a name, Andrew. My husband's favorite name. As he said "I never new a guy named Andrew who wasn't a 'stand up guy'. That's what I want my son to be." So, Andrew it was. With my father's first name as his middle name, William. Andrew William, what a lovely ring to the name. My daughter nicknamed him "baby Willey". My mother scoffed at the name "Willey". Which made it ever so much more appealing. My father was still alive back then, struggling with dialysis and multiple health issues. But yet, still there and available to talk with or visit as needed. I miss him.

We had an ultrasound at the hospital, the normal developmental one that is done somewhere around 26 weeks. The specialist who normally read the results was deployed in Iraq, we had a stand in physician. He was concerned about the size of a canal in Andrew's brain. We went for a second ultrasound later on, the original physician was back from Iraq. He basically said, "you're fine" and implied the other physician was reactionary. We left, assured that our baby was healthy, normal and ready to come bouncing out when early January arrived.

I would like to include more detail around the months preceding Andrew's death, however, my memory is foggy. The most clear and vivid memory I have is of December 14, 2004, the day I went to see the obstetrician and found out his precious little heart was not beating. From this point on, my memory is vivid and detail oriented as they were the worst days in my life. It was like falling into a black hole, in the ground and looking up wondering if I would ever again see the light of day.

Monday, December 1, 2008

Ugh

It seems that it's starting again. This time of year, when it would be so nice to be able to bathe myself and my husband in the process of remembering Andrew and honoring him.... instead we are in the throws of either holiday chaos or occupational demands. Hubbie is headed out of town for the entire week next week. Long days and lonely nights at a time when I need him next to me, warm and alive and supportive and well, just there.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder? I guess I can try and look at this as an opportunity for growth and appreciation for him when he is here. But it still sucks.

Genuinely I normally do not "whine" however, this space seems like one where I will indulge myself and participate in a bit of whining and self pity, if for only a brief moment. Apologies to those who may find this offensive or bothersome but hey, it's my blog.... right?

Do others find it difficult to have their partner or significant other away around the birth/death date of your little one? I guess this is likely a rhetorical question however, it'd be nice to know and have some feedback.

Thanks for reading and responding if you are so inclined.

Goodnight Andrew.