My Year in Review

Some say that when it comes to raising a family, the days are long but the years are short. I am not sure I agree with that sentiment. Everything seems short to me. The days and the years. And they all go by so very fast.

2018 was a whirlwind of activity. Gary and I celebrated our tenth year together. Miranda started kindergarten. I began a new job. I learned to live yet another year without my first daughter

One year ago on this very day, I was working as a freelance writer and having a lot of anxiety about my upcoming surgery. I was five days away from a reduction mammoplasty (which I told virtually no one about) and was freaking out.

Fast forward to today, and I am so proud of my decision. I am no longer suffering from back pain and shoulder grooves and the endless frustration of nothing fitting me right!

One year ago on this very day, I was upset about the weight that I had gained back and was having a lot of negative feelings about my relationship with food.

Fast forward to today, and I am excited to say that I joined Weight Watchers over the summer and am down almost 40 pounds and I am re-learning how to make smart choices and not be on a diet, but rather a lifestyle change. That may mean Chinese buffet for dinner tonight, but then it may also mean lots of water and salads in the days that follow! 

I am exercising again - a few days a week. When I want to run, I run. When I want to just walk, that's what I do. No pressure to do more than feels right for me.

Another year of being a mom to Miranda has been mostly joy (but a little bit of pain). Her fifth year of life brought questions about Judaism and adoption and jaguars and weather patterns. You can guess which ones we were able to answer. She is so inquisitive and so sassy and so much a part of both Gary and me that she takes my breath away. 

At the nail salon the other day, the technician asked if she looked like her daddy since she does not really look like me. She replied that she thinks she looks like both of us, but people get confused since she has straight hair and I have curly hair. Bless her heart.

Allie had curly hair. A whole mess of it. I have no way of knowing if it would still be curly now; mine went through phases when I was growing up. I sure wish I got to see even one of her phases or stages.

We added two kittens to our household this year, and it's hard to remember a time without them! They are silly and playful and make everything extra exciting. We are super happy they came into our lives.

From snows days to dance recitals to gymnastics class, we tried to experience it all this year. And we did!

My job at Laurel House has changed us all, for the better. I have started to teach Miranda about the joys of volunteering, and I have come to appreciate what it's like to work outside the home again. I have made solid relationships and learned so much. I know now more than ever that your home is supposed to be a safe place - a sanctuary, almost - and I will do everything I can to make sure anyone who wants that safe haven gets it. No matter what.

My job also put me in the direct path of someone who lost a child this year. Her agony is so familiar to me. It's like a dress I used to wear. Some days I feel like I have nothing to offer her, but other days, I feel like I am at that job just to help her navigate the choppy waters of grief. I am not sure which one of us helps which more. 

All in all, it's been a good year. There were more smiles than tears. Lots of happy memories at the beach and on dry land as well.

A few short weeks after the new year rolls in, I will turn 45 years old. Which is middle age. I could not wait for 18...21...30...heck, even 40! But 45 is stumping me a bit. I am curious as to how I will deal with that.

So that's it. 2018 in review. Some of it I would do again. Some of it I would take a pass.

In that respect, I guess it's not so different from any other year, huh?

Merry everything and happy new year!!

Giving Thanks

I can't turn on my computer, phone, or tv without seeing a list of things that people are thankful for this time of year. 

I have many many things to be thankful for, and not just because Thanksgiving is later this week. But hey, if people want the list now, then now they shall get it.

I am thankful for my family and friends. Duh. Of course I am thankful for them. But if I want people to read my words, I need to find a way to make my list different from the rest. So here goes.

I am thankful for my sense of humor that allows me to get through the darkest of days. I am also thankful that Miranda recently said I was the funniest person she knows. Even funnier than her uncles. That is a major win.

I am thankful for the Weight Watchers app which has taught me (AGAIN) how to eat properly and take care of myself with correct nutrition and has assisted me with becoming the person I want to be.

I am thankful for the people that listen to my stories and want to hear about both of my daughters.

I am thankful that Miranda is enjoying kindergarten and has such a passion for learning. I am also so glad that her teacher just invited me to come in during Hanukkah to teach her class about the holiday and hand out dreidels.

I am thankful that we joined a synagogue this year and that Miranda sees it as a safe place where she can learn and sing and be free. 

I am thankful for the way my husband looks at me.

I am thankful that I found a job this year that is way more than a "job". WAY more.

I am thankful for each and every butterfly that I see that reminds me of Allie.

I am thankful for our two new kitty cats which have brought such joy and light into our home. (I am not as thankful for vet bills and kitty litter).

I am thankful for people sharing their stories and lives with me. What an honor.

I am thankful that I am so loved.

Take a few moments this week to think about what matters most to you. Then give thanks. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

First snow!

Visiting Allie's Creek

Am Yisrael Chai

Translated into English, "Am Yisrael Chai" means "The people of Israel live." The expression has been on a loop in my head since Saturday's massacre in Pittsburgh.

I have been to Israel the same amount of times that I have been to Pittsburgh. Once. And both were in college. That was over twenty years ago.

It was roughly that time in my life when I stopped being a member of a synagogue. I remember finding a local synagogue in West Chester for the High Holidays and every once and a while, I remember coming home and attending services with my mom. The synagogue always represented a safe place for me. A familiar place. A place of comfort.

As I got older and was busy finding my way in this world, my religion felt secondary to me. I still believed and had faith, and I still followed the traditions and rituals that I grew up with. It pretty much ended there, though.

When Gary and I got married, it was important to me that a rabbi perform the ceremony. We were fortunate enough to find a wonderful one. When Miranda was converted to Judaism, we were able to reach out to the synagogue I attended growing up, and they took care of all the details for us. Same for her baby naming. We were not members, but we were a part of the community, and they welcomed us in whatever capacity we desired. 

Two months ago, I joined the synagogue for the first time as an adult. My whole family joined, and we enrolled Miranda in Hebrew School. She has been attending classes every Sunday, and she loves it. She comes home chanting Hebrew songs and telling me all about the Torah. She loves to learn, and to her, Hebrew school is no different than her elementary school. Aside from the fact that it's on the weekend.

Last Saturday, when a gunman entered that shul in Pittsburg and angrily took eleven lives and wounded at least six others, he destroyed the solitude of what a synagogue means to so many people. He took our calm and our innocence. But he did not take our faith.

So many people that I have spoken to in the last 48 hours or so feel stronger than ever that we must come together and stop the madness. We must band together and show up and believe that something like this will never be allowed to happen again. The people of Israel live.

Yesterday, we went to Hebrew school. We hugged each other a little bit more. There were tears in many of our eyes. We were aware of the increased police presence in the parking lot and in the building itself. But we showed up. And we will continue to show up. 

I am proud to be Jewish. I am proud to be raising my daughter in the only religion and faith that I have ever known. I am glad to be a member of a synagogue again, and I feel privileged that I have a safe place to go. To believe. To pray.

The Jews that I know are not quitters. That's not about to start now.

The people of Israel live. The people of this land live. And as long as we live, we will remember. 

Party of Four

To the untrained eye, we look like a family of three. A mom, a dad, and beautiful little girl. To see us out and about, one would never know that we are always missing one.

This past weekend, we had formal family pictures taken. This was the third time ever since Gary and I have been together. The first was when we first brought Miranda home from the hospital. She was a few weeks old, and I remember that she peed all over the photographer. We had our "Allie" bear with us, and the pictures came out beautifully.

The next session was shortly after the courts officially declared Miranda "ours." We did not include Allie in that session as it was really just about her younger sister.

The last session was on Saturday. We all gathered at a local park, and my mom and brothers and their families were there as well. The rain had stopped a few hours prior, and the sun was peeking out just enough from behind the clouds. We have a family friend who is a photographer, and he and his terrific wife gifted my mom this session for her birthday a few years ago. It took us a while, but we all finally made it to picture day.

I was adamant that I wanted Allie in the picture somehow. This was a snapshot of my side of the family, and I wanted both of my girls in it.

We knew the Allie bear would not look right. I wore a bracelet with a butterfly charm. I thought maybe that was enough.

Gary, on the other hand, went right to our front yard and pulled out the large blue butterfly that we have hanging out there year round. 

We carried that butterfly though the park, and we proudly placed it where it needed to be in the pictures as a symbol of our first born. It calmed me to have her there. 

I will never know if Allie would have been all smiles at the photo shoot or if she would have have been nervous or anxious or not all smiles. I will never get to dress her in an outfit that matches ours, and I will never get to look at the proofs and think about how much she looks like Gary or me. All I have is a butterfly from the Ocean City boardwalk that resides in our front yard. I am not sure that's enough. And yet it has to be.

Miranda came home from school a few weeks ago with an assignment to fill in the members of her family for a family tree. I agonized over what to do. Do I add Allie and have Miranda explain why there is a sister on the form, but not one in the second grade? Do I add Allie with a note that she has wings? Do I add Allie and then ask for a parent-teacher conference?

In the end, I decided not to add Allie. That does not mean she is not a part of our family. It simply means that when Miranda is old enough to understand and explain her sister, she will. I did not feel it was fair to put that burden on her now, at five years old.

There is so much about parenting after loss that we are still learning. There is so much about living after loss that is still new to us, and we are seven years removed from it.  Does time make it better? No. Does time make it easier? No. Does time give me perspective and distance enough to step back and see what is best for my family and me? Sometimes.

We are and will always be a Party of Four. Even if we are the only ones who know it. 

And so, here we are. We are thrilled with how the pictures came out. I am so pleased that we are all represented. 

In the end, it all worked out.

 

The Inevitable Meltdown

It had all been going so well. Miranda acclimated to all the new changes of this year like a CHAMP! New school? Check. Bus routine? Check? New gymnastics class? Check. Kindergarten enrichment classes at her daycare? Check. 

It's been a whirlwind few weeks of activities, and changes and my daughter has blown me away with her adaptability and resiliency. We attended an Ice Cream Social at her school on Friday night, and before I knew what was happening, she was in line to do the limbo with a bunch of kids she did not know. She was laughing and sweating and having a great time.

Yesterday was her first day of Hebrew school. It's different than when I was growing up. We were all in the sanctuary singing songs and Gary leaned over to ask Miranda a question. With her eyes shut and her hands in the air, she shushed him because she was busy feeling the music. At one point, I thought she might ditch the zookeeper idea and consider rabbinical college!

Today we woke up, had breakfast, talked a bit about our weekend, and when it was time, we walked outside to the bus stop. We chatted with the neighbor kids and commented on the cooler temps. All was good.

Slowly the bus pulled up. One of the girls in Miranda's class rushed ahead to be first in line. Miranda had already told this girl that she wanted to be the first on the bus. The other girl, also five, either did not hear her or did not care. As soon as she jumped in front of Miranda, my daughter burst into tears.

So there I am, standing in my gym clothes and a ponytail, THIS close to being able to go for a walk, when my kid COMPLETELY BREAKS DOWN. Giant tears start streaming down her face. The other kids get on the bus. Miranda throws herself into my arms and will not get on the bus. She is crying and whining, and the cars are getting impatient waiting, and the kids are staring and wondering what is going on.  I am fiercely trying to bargain and beg with a temperamental kindergartner to just sit on the darn bus and go to school, and I will make sure that the next time she takes the bus, she will be first in line.

I finally boarded the bus myself and got her into a seat. I heard the bus driver yell, "Run mom!" and I leaped off the bus, waved to the yellow blur as it pulled away, popped in my earbuds and went for a walk. I was sad and angry and frustrated and most of all, I felt like a failure.

Did I let my daughter down? Have I not given her the skills to deal with what happens when she does not get her way? Have a failed her? 

One mile in, I started to calm down. "She's 5", I kept repeating in my head. She has had dozens of changes in the past month. She is doing great, all things considered. This behavior was just a blip. I hope.

She will be home in an hour.  I just found this picture on my phone. I do not know how my camera got turned on in the struggle. Sigh.

I am sharing all of these details because it's real life. We are not all kitty cats and rainbows. 

Nobody is.

The Wheels on the Bus

The first time Miranda rode on a school bus was several years ago. We went to Longwood Gardens with some friends, and we had to park at an auxiliary lot and take a bus to the actual venue. Miranda and her friend Sammy shared a seat, as the anxious parents stared in disbelief. No car seats, no seat belts, no fear. They loved the bus more than anything that day.

The next time Miranda rode a bus was last summer. Her camp had weekly field trips in which buses were needed. Often, Gary and I heard more about the bus and who she sat with, then the actual field trip.

Fast forward this past summer, when she had field trips and swim lessons, so she was on the bus twice a week. 

The day before school started this year, all of the parents and students in Kindergarten got to experience a trial bus ride. Miranda has pretty much become a bus expert.

Today, Miranda took the bus to kindergarten for the first time. She will only ride it on the days she is not in daycare, and today was one of those days.

She barely made it into her seat before I started to cry.

Gary must have expected that I was going to lose it as he stayed home this morning to help me put her on this bus.

It's one thing to know she is going to take the bus to school. It's quite another to let your baby climb those steps, pick a seat, wave goodbye, and then just be gone.

When I was pregnant with Allie, I would see the big yellow bus drive by, and I would get so excited that she would one day be on that bus. When Allie died, the same bus would taunt me from the street, driving right by our house as there was no child to be picked up or dropped off.

Today that changed.

Today it all came rushing back.

Today I am sad. And happy. And relieved. And grateful. And pretty much every other emotion, too.

It's hard to be a parent. It's especially hard to be a parent after loss. You get smacked in the face with old memories and hopes as you are literally in the middle of making new ones.

I am so proud of Miranda. I am also so proud of me. I let her get on that bus. I encouraged her, even. I think what makes me a good mom is putting Miranda's needs first, even at the expense of my own needs sometimes.

The key is to also make sure my needs are met. I went for a long walk after the bus pulled away. I logged on and did some work. Now I am writing. And at 12:02, I will be standing on that curb, jumping up and down, waiting to see my baby as she gets off the bus. Then we have the rest of the day to play.

Sounds like a pretty good day if you ask me.

Waiting for the bus

Away she goes!

Wishes For Everyone

Miranda, like any five-year-old, makes wishes all the time. She whispers her dreams when we throw a penny into a fountain or when she blows on a dandelion freshly plucked from the grass.

Up until recently, her wishes have been for a "real live unicorn" and "a pet jaguar." In the last few weeks, her wishes have changed.

Now my daughter wishes for Allie to come back to life. She thinks if Allie was here with us, she would like Miranda the best. She's probably right.

Lately, she also wishes for all the people that have died to come back to life and to never again die.

At five, she is just as comfortable talking about death as she is life.

Honestly, she talks about her sister more than we do. Today she wanted to go to her creek to bring her a fresh flower. The other day she asked me what grade she would be in this year if she were here. She also asks me often when we are celebrating her birthday.

I wish I had two daughters starting school next week. Not just one.

I wish I had two daughters sitting in the tub right now. Not just one.

By definition, a wish is to feel or express a strong desire or hope for something that is not easily attainable; want something that cannot or probably will not happen.

Well you can guess what I think about that!

And yet, it's ok to wish. It's good to dream. I think it's healthy to want something that's unattainable. It's a good lesson. I just wish that lesson was not at the expense of my first child.

A rainbow baby was born to a friend of mine a few short days ago. I was miles away when I heard the news, and yet I broke down in tears. Happy tears. Tears of relief. To have a rainbow baby is so so sweet. I am thrilled my friend will be able to experience that joy.

I am going to take this opportunity to wish for a few things that I think can come true. An easy transition to kindergarten for Miranda and her friends next week. A happy and joyous start to the school year for all the kids. More rainbow babies for the moms and dads that so desperately want them.  Blessed memories of the babies that wear wings. 

Maybe some wishes can come true after all. But so help me if I wake up to a real live unicorn in my house tomorrow!!

Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee

I chose this quote from Muhammad Ali for two reasons. One - we love all things butterfly in this house. Two - it's a quote about competition and my topic today is competition.

You see, my living daughter is in competition with my dead one.

Ouch, huh?

Miranda is jealous that we have a picture of Allie's feet hanging up near our fireplace. The feet make an image of a heart, and it's the only photo of Allie that we have displayed. And yet Miranda feels threatened by it.

Miranda is jealous that we see butterflies and think of her sister. She wants to be the butterfly. She has even told me on more than one occasion that she wished we named her Butterfly, instead of Miranda. Um, no.

Is it that we talk to much about the daughter we lost? To be honest, I do not think we do. Is it that Miranda is envious that someone came before her? I could see that as she got older, but not at five. I do not care how precocious she is!

Where does this sense of envy come from? And why does she feel that there is a competition?

Last night at dinner, Miranda glanced over at the picture of Allie's feet and asked why we did not have a picture of her feet framed. I explained that we only had a limited time with Allie and that image was one of our favorites. I went on to say that we are lucky enough to have enough time with Miranda that we can take all the photos we want. We do not need to have an image of her feet. We have her face beaming back at us from pretty much every wall in this house.

She paused and then asked me why M gave her away? WHAT THE WHAT? I guess the adoption talk did resonate. Why, though, was it only talking about Allie's death that she questioned where she came from? I calmly explained that M did not give her away. She picked Gary and me to be her parents because she knew we could provide the kind of life for her that she deserved. A family with a mommy and a daddy. Her own room. The chance to go to preschool and meet friends and get a head-start on learning. Cousins. Extended family. Vacations. And so much more. That seemed to satisfy her for now.

I love that Miranda is so thirsty for knowledge, both in the classroom and out. I wonder, though, how much what happened before she was even born is going to shape her? And why is she in a competition with someone who clearly cannot compete back?

Both of my girls are so special to me. My heart is bursting with love for each one. Different love, of course. Allie's love is that of a proud parent who feels a surge when she gets the opportunity to talk about her. Miranda's love is that of an actively parenting adult who gets to see her daughter interact with new kittens, get her tiny ears pierced, and prepare for kindergarten. (And that was all just last week!).

I do not want to sell either of them short, and I want to make sure I am doing right by them both. In a way, I want them both to float and neither to ever sting.

Time will surely help me figure out how to keep explaining life to the one while remembering and honoring the other one in death.

What a tangled path I walk on every day. It's a wonder I don't trip more.

The Healing Cycle

I have been doing a lot of self-reflection lately. It could be because Miranda's starting kindergarten next month or it could be something that has nothing to do with her whatsoever. 

Usually, I do my best thinking with words. My writing is a therapy session, and for a long time, I needed a lot of therapy. 

It's been almost a month since I have blogged and I think that might be a record for me. 

I am not proud of that record, but I am pleased that I need less and less therapy if that makes sense?

I have a new "sister-in-loss" if you will. A friend who is now walking in my shoes and is brave enough to reach out to me and share some of her feelings. Many of our talks have spiraled me back to the Spring and Summer of 2011, and it's scary and daunting, but it needs to be done. The only reason I was able to heal was that I also found my tribe when I needed them most.

Going back seven years, I am reminded of how damn sad I was all the time. Every time we passed a pet store, I used to ask Gary if we could adopt a new kitten. His answer was always the same. No. But why? Zoe, the cat we had, would not have been a fan of a new roommate. And a kitten would not take the place of a baby. I so desperately wanted to take care of a living being, but a cat was not the answer. Not then.

Fast forward to now. Zoe has been chasing mice in heaven for over two years (ok, fine...she's been sleeping and ignoring the mice). My heart is healed, as much as it can be.  Miranda is five years old and able to help out. And I found a kitty that looks like just like a superhero. So it's finally time.

T'Challa (the one that looks like Black Panther) and his litter mate, Luke Cage (Miranda named this one), will hopefully soon be ours to take care of every day. To snuggle and love and cherish and play with and bring new life into our house. Not because we need it, but because we want it. That is a big difference.

These kittens were rescued and need a forever home. I think that home is ours.

I have also been thinking about me. I have not been putting myself first lately. In the work that I do, we talk a lot about self-care. I really need to be in a good place before I can be of any good to someone else. And I am not. 

I can't remember the last time I laced up my sneakers or chose something healthy on a menu. What happened to me?

Life. Life happens. For me, it's easier to be "lazy' than smart. And it stinks because it's such hard work for me to be good to myself. By writing it down, I am hoping this action makes me more accountable. For my family, our new kitties, and for me!

I think we are all worth it.

The Trials and Tribulations of Being a Mom

Being a mom is HARD. It's more difficult than anything else I have ever done. It's being "on" 24/7. It's making sure someone else's needs are met before yours. It's walking around with chipped nail polish because you do not have the time or energy to find the nail polish remover. It's pretending your roots don't show because you do not have time to go to the salon. It's smiling when you want to cry, singing when you want to yell, and eating when you are standing up because if you show weakness and sit down, you will instantly just have to get up again.

However, for each sleepless night, each molar that took longer to come in than it should have taken, each projectile vomit incident, each visit to urgent care, each fight over hair brushing or teeth brushing, I silently exhale and know deep down that being a mom is who I was meant to be.

Yesterday, I was a flotation device in the pool. My main purpose was to keep Miranda buoyant. For hours, we just played and splashed and laughed in the cool waters. Every time I asked for a break or to get out, my stubborn charge pouted and refused to leave. Eventually, it clicked to me that one day (maybe soon!) she will not want me to be the one in the pool with her. So I stopped complaining and just enjoyed being with her.

When we finally did take a break, it was to use the restroom. For the first time ever, she walked in by herself and did not need me. I hovered in the foyer area in case she called for me, but she didn't. In some ways, she needs me less and less. When she came out of the stall, her suit was all twisted, and part of her tush was hanging out. In some ways, she needs me more.

I will never know what it would have been like to parent Allie the way I parent Miranda. I do not know what kind of child Allie would have been and that keeps me up some nights. I was supposed to be her mom every bit as much as I was supposed to be Miranda's mom and it guts me that I was robbed of that chance. 

I refuse to spend my life in a cloud of anger. That's not fair to anyone, including me. 

Going back to work has been such a gift for me. It has given me something to do and be, aside from Allie and Miranda's mom. Working has made me step outside of myself and my comfort zone and forced me to think about how I can help others. I am so grateful for the opportunity. And it shows. If you ask Miranda what I do when I go to work, she says, "You help people, mama." I guess I do. And they help me, too.

At 44, I still need my mom. So I know, in a way, Miranda will always need me. I look forward to a day when she lets me have some time and space back, but I also dread it. See? Being a mom is hard.

I am so lucky to have it so hard.

Adoption In My Heart

Today was the Adoptions From The Heart Annual Picnic. We love this event. It is close to our house, it is early enough in the summer that it's not too hot, and it is a wonderful place for Miranda to see other kids like her. Adopted kids.

We have never shied away from using the word adoption in our house. We have read books, colored pictures, and even "adopted" a toy puppy for Hanukkah one year. We have explained how adoption works and how families are formed by love first, and genetics second. She has never questioned anything we have told her about how families come to be, and I thought we were handling it very well.

Until Miranda asked me recently what it was like being in my belly.

Uh oh.

Then she put a ball up her dress and said, "Look! I am a mommy now, too!"

Yikes.

Then, the icing on the cake at lunch on Friday.  Miranda looked at me with a mouth of grilled cheese and asked, "Mommy, did I hurt you when I came out?"

Crap.

Gary and I decided it was time to have "the talk". We had been talking about it for months now. We knew the day of the AFTH picnic would be as good a time as any.

We sat Miranda on the couch and took a seat on either side of her. We began by telling her how much we loved her. Then we reminded her that we were going to a picnic today that celebrates adoption. We asked her if she remembered what adoption meant. She shook her head no. So we said it is a word that means families are formed in lots of ways. 

In a brief sentence or two, we told her that after Allie died, we couldn’t get another baby in my belly. So we found M who already had one, but was unable to do everything she wanted for her baby. So she picked us to be Miranda’s parents. We all met before Miranda was born and decided that mommy and daddy would be the ones to be the parents of this little baby. We brought her home from the hospital, and she’s been ours ever since. 

That was pretty much it. I said something about how M will always be in her life, and if she has any questions, she can ask her or she can ask us. And it did not have to be today - it can be whenever she thinks of them.

Exhale. 

Miranda simply smiled. Gary asked if we could all get hugs. Miranda happily complied. And that was that.

The foundation has been set. At the picnic, we made sure to point out that many of the children there were adopted. She seemed more interested in the ice cream truck, to be honest.

I think we are over one hurdle, but I am not sure what obstacles are still going to be in our way.

I hope that as long as we are open and honest with each other, we will be able to face anything.

I love being Miranda's mom. I know how lucky I am that I get to be the one she turns to, day in and day out. I know Gary loves being a dad - her dad - more than he ever thought possible. Here's to hoping that our love is enough to answer her questions and settle any fears. After all, love is all you need, right?

The Grief Bomb

For years after Allie died, I was worried about each and every pregnant person that I knew. Or read about. Or heard a story about. If I saw a pregnant woman walking down the street, I would walk the other way. If I had to talk to a pregnant woman, I would make eye contact only. I would never dare to look at her swollen belly.

When my sister-in-law was pregnant with my niece (and later my nephew), I changed my behavior slightly. I did this for her sake as well as mine. We both had to be comfortable around each other, and there are things you do for a family that you simply cannot do for others.

While I still do not attend baby showers or buy presents for babies until there are here, I have relaxed a little bit and not freaked out when I hear someone is pregnant. My cousin had the most adorable little boy last month so my mom, Miranda, and I took an almost 6-hour road trip (round trip) just to welcome him to the family, smell his delicious head, and feed him a bottle. It was more than worth it.

I let my guard down. I forgot to be scared. I felt almost normal.

And then a baby died.

There was a baby that was growing safe and sound in his mommy and was due in late June. I talked to his mom about his upcoming arrival. Not a lot, but more than I ever had before.

That mommy is having a funeral for her son this weekend. 

I do not know all the details. It's not my business to know. What I do know is that he was alive one day and then gone the next.

People were afraid to tell me. People were afraid for me to know.

It was like someone set off a grief bomb.

I took a minute to feel sorry for myself. "Why does this keep happening?" "Is there any way it's my fault?"

Then I realized it was not about me. It's not about the me that I used to be.

What I am now, since surviving the most horrendous tragedy ever, is a bit of a subject matter expert. Once I let the tears escape my eyes, I dried them off and got to business. I gathered information on grief counseling and support groups and a list of "do's and don'ts." I took the sadness from my past and used it to help make someone else's days less sad. 

I took on grief from the other side.

I do not believe that everything happens for a reason. I do not believe that baby is in a better place. I do believe in the power of love and compassion to get us through.

To Anthony - I am sorry we never got to meet. It's cruel. It's unfair. You were very much wanted and are very much loved. I remember you. I will make sure you are not forgotten, even by the people on the periphery of your life. That is my promise to you. 

Please say hi to my girl if you see her. I suspect you will. 

Leaving My Mark

For as long as I can remember, I have always had this fear of not being remembered. I do not know how or why it was so important to me, but I never wanted to be forgotten. Who does?

Yesterday, my mom and I took Miranda to the local high school to see their spring musical, Fiddler on the Roof. While that high school will not be the one that my daughter attends, it was the one that I went to many many years ago. 

Miranda was excited to see where her mommy and uncles used to go to school. It's much bigger than her school (after all, it has a pool and a planetarium), but she was not too overwhelmed. She liked walking the hallowed halls and looking at the lockers and was very worried about where the students ate their snacks. Then we walked her into the back of the auditorium where my name was displayed on a plaque stating that I was the "Best Actress" for my senior year. There it was. In wood and bronze. Proof that I was to be remembered.

I have a lot of happy high school memories. Many of them were on that stage. I can close my eyes and still smell the costumes, the paint from the sets, the blisters on my feet and the nervousness in my stomach. I can feel the stage lights on my face and the feeling that washed over me when the audience responded to my different characters.

Some nights, before the curtain would open, I would reach up as high as I could and put my fingerprint on something that I thought might not get wiped down right away and therefore serve as proof that I was there. That became something I did whenever I would go somewhere new. I used to try to leave my invisible mark as a sign that I was there. In my old dorm rooms. In the house I lived in during my college years. In my first apartment. Before selling my first car. I never used ink or anything permanent. I just had hopes that if someone wanted to know I was there, they could somehow see my fingerprint and know.

I did not do it in the hospital after I delivered Allie. I am not sure I ever did it after she was born. I have often said that her death changed me. Not all of the change was good. Her death took away my innocence and naivete, and it was not until I was in my old high school yesterday that my old tradition came back to me.

The thing is, I have finally come to terms with the fact that I will be remembered. I have been fortunate enough to impact and be impacted by so many people. Most recently, I have chosen to go back to work in a field that directly lets me help others, thereby solidifying that I will not be forgotten.

So if you see me reaching up high and pressing my index finger upon a surface, simply smile and let me be me. 

Here's to leaving our mark!

4 Days Till 7

My Dearest Allie,

Your birthday is this weekend, and yet we have no party planned, no presents purchased, no outfits picked out. Somehow, you would be seven years old on Sunday. I cannot wrap my brain around that. 

I just witnessed your cousin Ella turn the same age. She was born two weeks before you, you know. You two were supposed to be the best of friends. Well, your sister has made sure that the strong bond of friendship is there so don't you worry about that! They are adorably close, and Miranda idolizes her.

Speaking of Miranda, I like to think that you are someplace watching over her, but I will fill you in on her activities nonetheless. She just turned five, and we had a super fun party at Chuck E. Cheese. Miranda was glowing with all the attention that she got, and there was so much love in that room. Many of our family and friends were there to celebrate her, and she loved every second.

Your little sister is heading to kindergarten in the Fall! How can that be? I was not my best when I went to register her. I was feeling your absence pretty strongly, and kind of yelled and huffed and puffed when they told me I needed forms I didn't have. Oops. I guess even at my age, I am still learning appropriate versus inappropriate behavior. 
 
We are gearing up for the "adoption" talk. Miranda commented Grammy last weekend about growing in my belly, so we know it's time to really explain what adoption is and not just use the word here and there. I do not anticipate that it will be a hard conversation. The bottom line is that after you died, we knew we still wanted to be parents, and so we found the best way to do that. It's remarkable if you think about it.

Selfishly, I wish you were here to help us tell her. But then I wonder if she would be here at all if you were still here?

Daddy is doing well. He was traveling a lot for work, but that seems to have slowed down a bit. I am glad because we work well as a trifecta and I do not like it when he is not here. Your daddy thinks I am strong, but truth be told, he is what keeps me going some days. Lots of days.

Everyone else is also good. But I suspect you know that.

My new job is not so new anymore, but Allie, it's great! It's super fulfilling, and I feel like I am making a difference. It's nice to be in the non-profit sector again. For me, if feels more about the work than the bottom line. I fit in there, and I look forward to going in three days a week. I know, crazy, huh?

Well, the weather around here has been really off for April, so I am not sure how we are going to celebrate you on Sunday. If the rain and cold stay away, we will visit your tree. Miranda wanted to go to a playground and laugh and have fun on your birthday, and I have no issue with that! Maybe we will pack a picnic lunch. We will probably also release some balloons at the end of the day so be sure to look for them.

Alright, my sweet girl. It's time for me to go. I do not talk directly to you too much anymore because it hurts my heart, even after all this time. Today, though, you were exactly what I needed.

Allie, I love you more. I always will.

Love,
Mama