Thursday, July 23, 2015
Our Macie is five months old today. He is SO cute. He loves rolling over and pushing onto his knees like he is going to start crawling. He is cutting his first tooth on the bottom left and likes to try and stick his whole fist in his mouth to teeth on. He has the best smile and infectious laugh. He's so perfect! We adore him! He is also the favorite of both older siblings and he loves the attention!
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
I've been feeling on edge and sort of sick to my stomach the last few days. My brain keeps looping over and over all of the stuff I need to do and take care of - at work, at home, with the kids, with myself. I'm overwhelmed with things to do and in the back of my mind is this nagging feeling that something is just off - way off. And something is.....it always will be.
I wish I could say we did something special on Sunday. Released some butterflies or balloons or sat in contemplative meditation - acknowledging our gratitude that he is/was our son and will always be. I wish I could say that we planted the tree we bought in his honor for our new house and that we came back inside and shared memories of our sweet boy.
Mostly it was a day like any other days around here. We juggled swim lessons, naps, playtime, potty training and meals. It was hot and humid and the kids and I holed up in our family room with the air conditioning reading books and playing with toys, while Ted sweat his face off in the backyard building a masterpiece playground with a fort, slide and swingset (it's awesome).
By the time everyone was down to sleep, we were too tired for any of the meaningful stuff. We just drank some wine and ate some dinner and called it a day. But Max was with us throughout. Ted listened to his Maxie playlist while he worked outside, and I talked about Max with the kids (even though they don't understand) and showed them photos. There was a serious and somber tone all day (still is) between the two of us and with our families. His absence was felt all day in a slightly more intense way than it is felt always (and it is felt always).
Tonight we plan to light our candle, plant our tree and say our prayers for Max. As time goes on, this is what it looks like. No less heartbreaking than it was before but less startling somehow - more a part of everything we do.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Maxie - I had so many dreams for the two of us, for our little family, for you, my son. Small things we looked forward to - like seeing you crawl, then walk, then run; taking you to the park to play; trips to Disneyland, the pony rides, days at the beach, vacations everywhere.
Though our time with you was not long, every moment is remembered. You were sweet and easy and you stared into our eyes and through to our souls. Your smile was everything. I'd sell my soul to kiss those cheeks, squeeze those thighs, make you laugh just once more.
I've cried SO MANY TEARS. Sometimes I'd like to turn off all of the noise, get into bed and cry and cry until we meet again. The unfairness of it all often makes me want to scream.
What has kept me going are those friends who've cared enough to listen, the happiness we've found with your brothers and sister, your sweet loving daddy, and my faith that you and I will be together again.
I know we will Max.
Until then, know how much I love you, how I would never trade our nine and a half months together for a lifetime with any other kid, and how we think and talk about you every day.
We love you to the moon and beyond. Forever.
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
"At least you didn't have time to really get to know him", is what they said when my nine and a half month old son died.
"Who said it?", you ask. More than I care to remember. A few less than told me, "at least you can have more children", but a few more than those who said "time heals all wounds".
"At least you didn't have time to really know him" is in my mind constantly as I stare at my four and a half month old son. I love him as deeply as his older siblings and I know him just as well.
We spend hours every day just staring at each other and smiling. He gets a thousand kisses a day. I love just nuzzling into his neck and smelling his baby smell. I love giving him baths and cuddling him close when I nurse him. I am head over heels in love....even though he is ONLY four and a half months old.
The truth is that I am scared to death of losing him...and Myla...and Mo. There are certain times and environments where I feel like they are so vulnerable and I am so scared that I really believe that if I am not 100% focused, they may not make it. I am worried all of the time. I never think we are safe now. I never feel out of the woods. I look at this beautiful baby and I can't help but worry that I might only have five months left with him. Sometimes it's more than I can stand.
I love this baby with every ounce of myself - and I KNOW him that much as well. He's only four and a half months and he is already my whole world. I know you know Max was my whole world too (even if you said "at least...")
Saturday, July 4, 2015
We think our boys all look alike. Mostly because they do. We don't only see Mo in Mace. We see Maxie there too. Perhaps it makes you uncomfortable to hear that or you think it better for me to not look for Max in the other two, but I find it comforting. I didn't think I'd ever see his beautiful face again. It nearly broke me. But occasionally, when I'm really lucky, I see glimpses.
Our three guys! I love them so much.
Thursday, July 2, 2015
One year ago today, the most beautiful, loving, funny, crazy, wild, smart, strong, and perfect little girl came home with us. It was something that had felt, up until the hours before she got to our house, a complete impossibility. Over this past year, we have gone from cautiously attached to madly in love. Her smile and personality lights up every room, she makes everyone around her laugh, she is the most independent/completely attached little person I've ever met. She is perfect in every way and I just can't believe she's ours! We are the luckiest parents to call this special person our daughter. Love you Myla!!!
As an added bonus - I'm loving all of the free dental exams:
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Macie is just about the cutest four month old I've ever seen! He has the sweetest disposition and is always smiling. He looks exactly like Mo did at the same age, which is pretty trippy but we also see a lot of Max in him - especially in certain expressions. He is a great nurser, not a great bottle taker and is just about to start rolling over. Mo and Myla are always all over him and so are we. We all love this little dude!
Friday, June 5, 2015
With a little help from nannies, grandparents and Ted, we took a photo a day of Mo from January 2014 - January 2015. It got a little tedious and sometimes the best I could do was a dinner or bathtime photo but it was SO WORTH IT!!
Saturday, May 30, 2015
I've been talking and listening to some other bereaved parents about how there are things - normal, everyday, things - that happen with our living children that have taken on more meaning to us as bereaved parents. Things like play dates, music classes, trips to the playground. Things we did or imagined doing with our children that didn't live. When I take my kids to the park or simply play with them, I'm often thinking about how I never got to do these things with Max - and the normal, everyday things feel therefore more special. I appreciate them more.
Then there are the special things. The things I fantasized about doing with Max: when I was pregnant with him, when he was a baby, after he died. Birthday parties, vacations, trips to Disneyland. They are dripping with intensity and joy for me. They are life affirming - exponentially increasing the gratitude I feel for their lives and my own: feelings that during the especially dark period of my life, when I felt no gratitude for my own life, I really couldn't have imagined ever feeling again.
Every birthday my living children celebrate feels like a gift. Every special outing like the best day of my life. I look forward to them the way I looked forward to things when I was a kid. And when plans get spoiled, it probably feels much more disappointing to me than it would to a non-bereaved parent.
For a while before we moved here, things felt very heavy for me again. I was having a really hard time seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I felt thrown back into the darkness for many, many reasons.
These were the moments that kept me going: