Systems

So the other day we were driving to some activity and we ended up behind a bucket loader scooping snow into a dump truck. Megan asked me what they were doing and I explained that they have to physically remove the snow piles so that there is room to plow the next storm. "Where do they put the dump truck full of snow?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," I responded. "I know they used to dump it in the river, but they don't do that anymore."

"Why not?" she asked, "The snow would melt, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would melt, but all the sand, salt and other junk on the road would also end up in the river and that would really mess up the river's ecosystem."

"Yeah, that would mess up the river's system...just like when Daddy tries to put the diapers away and he really messes with that system. I understand."


I'm not making this up!

(In case people don't know, we use cloth diapers. Here is the system--the Fuzzi Bunz in our stash are both old style and new style. The old style sizes are much smaller than the new style of the same size (for example, a new style small is much larger than an old style small). SO--to accommodate different insert requirements, we use the new style smalls AND the old style mediums with one insert during the day. At night, we use the new style mediums with double inserts. The new style and old style can be differentiated by the shape of the front flaps and the daytime and night time inserts are clearly different as well. The one-size FBs have their own inserts and need to be treated separately. See?? It really isn't that hard! Of course FBs are now made in China so we will no longer be buying them. Sigh.)

Good Friends

So today some friends of ours came over with their wonderful and energetic twin 5-year-old girls. Needless to say, our girls were THRILLED and the house was quite loud for the day. Evan wasn't sure what to make of it, but when the girls all went sledding with Chris and Doug, he got time to hang out with Julia and try to take her glasses. What more could a guy ask for?

Doug and Julia are fantastic people. When Chris was first visiting U.Maine as a PhD possibility, he was introduced to Julia who was already a student here. After a few minutes, they realized they knew each other from a summer at field camp back in college. When we moved here, a friendship was forged--sledding parties, backyard cook outs, hikes...you name it. When Doug and Julia finished up their work at U.Maine, we were all excited when they were offered a job at UM Farmington. Although 2 hours away, at least still in Maine and we could visit often. When their twin girls were born, Julia took a year off and she and I worked out a schedule where I would drive to see her every other week and she drove to see me every other week. This way we saw each other twice a month, but only drove the distance once. It worked out very well.

Now, as schedules have changed, we don't see them very often. Their girls are in a pre-K program, they are both working and teaching, my kids are older and busy as well. It doesn't seem to work out like it did when kids were young and more packable! But we often think about them and we know we will have to find the time to get together. Sometimes on the way back from a camping trip we stop at their house and usually they come here around the first of the year. This summer, due to the weather, we didn't go camping as much as we normally do. And this holiday season, due to the weather, they weren't able to come spend the night, either.

But they did come today and the girls whooped it up! All this information is background for what came next. Doug and Julia have never lost a child. They have never suffered a pregnancy loss of any kind. When Sophie died, Julia was always there to lend an ear--I didn't lean on her very much given the distance between us, but she was there. I guess I just never thought of her in that way--given that she had never had a loss, I didn't want to seem like I was rubbing my loss in her face. I didn't want to waste any of the precious time we had together talking about something that would make her uncomfortable. But know what? It never made her uncomfortable. Sad, yes. But never uncomfortable. She knew of family members that had miscarriages and other losses and she saw what it could do to a person. She wanted to make sure I was comfortable talking to her about it. Sometimes I did and sometimes I didn't. Either way was fine.

Today we were exchanging gifts and she had put a card in the bag--I didn't know what it was given that we had already gotten a Christmas card from them. Inside the card it said, "As you come to the close of a season of family and celebration, please know that your loss isn't forgotten. We are thinking of all of you."

I nearly cried right then and there--but I knew if the tears came, it was going to be hard to stop them. I was so, so, so touched--deep deep down--that these wonderful people, who we don't see that often and who have so little personal experience with loss, would take the time to remember.

Take the time to remember. That is all any of us want. We don't want you to understand, we don't want you to feel our sadness, we don't want you to throw a ticker-tape parade in our child's name. We want you to take the time to remember. It took Julia 30 seconds to write that...30 seconds to stop and think about the fact that we are missing someone. And that 30 seconds has made my whole month easier. Thank you, Julia, from the bottom of my heart.

Christmas Fun

I can't seem to get as many pictures up as I want--here are some of our family enjoying many of the wonderful gifts we got. In addition to the ones below, the girls got a new monkey bar set in the playroom basement--that has been a BIG hit! Now we have a swing, rings AND monkey bars! It makes the long winters here in Maine a bit easier on the mommy! Thank you to all for a wonderful holiday!

Evan got his own bowl--that's couscous he is eating, Cathy!

I'm sorry, did I say, "eating?" That's couscous he is managing to get all over the place...you can't see the dog happily licking the floor beneath.

Both girls got snowshoes (thanks, Grammy and Grampy!) and have been out in the woods much of this past week. We had a marvelous time in the snow storm!

Here is our family at a waterfall in Acadia. We just wanted to get out for the day and enjoy the view.

Maybe...

I think I fixed it...anyone who has been sending me emails saying they couldn't comment on my blog should try now--especially if your initials are AK, KV or CH. THANKS!

Happy New Year, everyone!!!

The Familiar Abyss

Here it comes again--January. I'm no longer sure of how to approach this month that brings renewed hope and vitality to those around me. I'm certainly not out to bring everyone else down, but I can't shake the feeling of dread that has happened every January for the past three years. I don't expect everyone else to understand--far from it--I am VERY clear on the fact that she was my baby, that I was the one carrying her, that I alone felt her kicks and knew her rhythms so intimately. The first anniversary of her death was horrific--I cried and cried, each minute of the day from the 19th (the day I went to the hospital) to the 22nd (the day we lost her), as I relived what I had gone through. "At this time last year I was having an ultrasound," I would think. "At this time last year I was getting the news..." "At this time last year I was holding on to a thread of hope..." and so on. It was miserable. And, of course, to add insult to injury, over her first anniversary I was not pregnant. I was, in fact, 7 weeks out from a miscarriage. Argh.

Last year, the second anniversary of her death, I did not expect it to be as bad as the first. I figured the first was clearly the worst and it could only get better, right? Wrong. Although I don't remember the details, I remember being so emotional and sad that on the night of the 19th I picked a fight with my husband (isn't that the best tactic for getting out emotional energy???) and by the time I went to bed, I was sobbing. He came in quietly, wrapped his arms around me and said, "Yes, I know what day it is. I miss her too." Argh.

So here we are again--on the cusp of this abyss that I can't seem to cross without losing my mind. I'm feeling it bubbling up inside me and I can't find a way to make it, if not go away, at least reduce its impact on my life. To make matters worse, my husband will be gone in the days leading up to her birthday, so not only do I have to not lose my mind, I have to be a patient and loving single mom of three at the same time. It won't be easy, but we'll do it one day at a time. Then Chris will return, we'll have cake and ice cream mixed with the tears we will both shed for the baby girl we never got to keep. And on the morning of the 23rd, I'm guessing, the sun will rise again. Sometimes the whole day, the whole experience, even the baby girl herself, all seem like a hoax. Did it all really happen? To me? Really? Argh.

holidays

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Is he real?

I wish I could capture Evan's face in the morning. As the soft gray-blue light begins to ooze around the shade, I look towards the middle of the bed and there he is, head on the corner of my pillow, body tucked neatly into mine. His eyes are closed and his little pink lips are puckered up. He is usually arching his neck, as though looking at something over his head, and I'm not sure how he sleeps like this. Today he was wearing his white, fuzzy pjs with the green frogs on them. They used to Erin's and then they were Megan's before they were stored away for the next one. Of course, she never wore them, so they sat in a box and waited--waited for this amazing little person to wear them as he snuggles close to my heart.

As the quiet of the morning unfolds into the chaos of the day, I take a few minutes to just look at this angelic face, so peaceful in the morning light. I watch his chest rise and fall with each amazing little breath. I have to hold myself back--the urge to pull him closer, perhaps even tuck him up inside of me, is great. (Of course, doing that would wake him up and I am realistic about not wanting to have a grouchy baby on my hands all morning.) But still, the feeling that surrounds him is so much more than love--he is a miracle, in the true sense of the word. He is the child that never would have been, but yet is because of Sophie. That tragic event that changed our lives forever led to this, this incredible little person who fits so perfectly into our family. How is that possible?? 10 months I have lived with him in my arms, 10 months I have watched this miracle unfold and still, I can't always believe he is real.

Anyone with any suggestions on how to take a picture in that gray-blue morning light without a flash, let me know. I want to capture him just as he is, and I'm not sure how to do that. How do you photograph an angel on Earth?