What Dreams May Come

I have only ever once seen Allie in my dreams.  It was not too long after she died and I do not remember much of it except that she was a toddler and in a high chair and I could not get to her.  I can't remember if I was trying to feed her or pick her up, but I know I was just so taken aback that we were in the same room together, in a kitchen that I can still picture but know I have never been to in reality.  It was unsettling, but also kind of nice to know that when I was asleep, my daughter was somehow still in my brain and in my heart.

Last night I had a different kind of dream.  For the second night in 11 weeks, Miranda gave us 10 hours of sweet blissful sleep. It was probably the first chance I have even had to dream!

I was in a laboratory of sorts and there were cases (like soda machines) of jars and containers.  I knew it was a lab but yet it had a personal feel.  The room was painted in browns and creams and it felt very comfortable.  I stood there and looked up and saw this sign about one of the cases: Al-Leigh.  I have never spelled Allie's name like that and yet I knew it was her case.  I also knew that whomever was in charge did not know us that well or else they would not have made that mistake.

The rest of the dream is a blur.  In it, I was told by someone (no idea how) that they knew what had happened to Allie.  And that because of this knowledge, it would not happen again.  Her death would not be in vain.  I remember feeling a calm - not a sadness in her absence, but a calm that no other mother or father would have to know what that absence really feels like.  

When I woke up, I knew right away that it was a dream.  I glanced over the baby monitor and saw that Miranda was still sleeping.  Having her own dreams, perhaps.

The pain of Allie's death is still with me and it always will be.  But it is no longer the current that flows along side of my every day.  It seems, though, that it may be the current that flows beneath the surface, even when I cannot feel it.

In the past month, Gary and I have freely and happily celebrated Mother's and Father's Day.   We had been celebrating since 2011 as there was no denying that we were parents, but this year, we were able to really feel good about celebrating.  I guess though, and the end of the day, my mind still wants to know why.  Even with Miranda in our lives, even with the chaos and frenzy and joy and light that parenting her bring, my mind still clings to the past.  To what was.  Not what is. 

The dream has haunted me all day.  As I fed Miranda.  As we went to visit a family friend who has known me since I went to her nursery school when I was 3 years old.  As I had lunch with Miranda and my mom.  As I did laundry.  As I prepared dinner.  (Ok, heated up leftovers from yesterday!).  What sticks with me now, at the end of the day, is how sad I am that the dream was not a reality.  We will most likely never know why babies are born still.  We will most likely never understand the randomness of it.  My hope is, though, that someday we can prevent stillbirth.  That's a dream I would not mind having.  I will not give up hope that my new dream can indeed come true.

I still believe more than ever that Allie was the daughter I was meant to carry and that Miranda is the daughter I was meant to raise...and yet every once in a while, in the darkness and the still of the night, I guess I wonder what it would be like if I had them both here.  I guess I need to just search in my heart and know that in many ways, I actually do.

Miranda "Hope" being cuddled by Ann, the same loving woman that used to hold me as a little girl.

Family

I went to work on Wednesday.  Well, not to the office but to an off-site meeting that was held very close to our house.  They are making some changes to my department and both Gary and I thought it would be a good idea for me to go.  He took a vacation day to stay home with Miranda and I spent the day with my colleagues.  In the end, I was glad I went.

There were some new faces at our meeting so one of the first things we did was to go around the room and introduce ourselves.  There were little piles of cards around where we were sitting that we were to choose to read from.  Each card had a question and we were to answer our question after our introductions.

I started with my name and what I do for the company.  I explained that I have worked there for 7 years next month.  I have had a few different roles but that the one I am in now is by far the best fit for me.  There were a few more details and then I got to my question.  

"What is your favorite part about Thanksgiving dinner?"

I felt like the easy answer was apple pie or stuffing but I am not one to take the easy way out!  So I said family.

Family to me is everything.  This year, my daughter will be at Thanksgiving with us.  My mom will be there beaming with pride. My youngest brother and his wife, who have been literally traveling all over the globe, will be back in the states with us.  My other brother and his family will be there.  Heck, we eat and his wife's mother's house!  Our family tree has a of of branches and we all love it that way. 

I explained all of this and then said how extra lucky I am to have the family I have.  I met Gary when I was 34.  I had exhausted all of the online dating sites and was pretty sure that I was never going to find Mr. Right.  I pondered having a child on my own and thought it might be too hard and the risks were too high so I have pretty much assumed that motherhood was not in my cards. 

Ha.  What did I know?  My life was sitting in a cube 10 feet away.  In the one place I had not looked.

So to have a family - the one I was born into which means more than I could ever say and the one I married into - which means more than I could have ever dreamed....well that's the best part of Thanksgiving for me.  To be celebrating with the family that Gary and I are making...with Allie in our hearts and Miranda in our arms...that's the best part of any day for me!

But as is much with my life, Thanksgiving is also bittersweet.  It's the holiday I spent with my step-brothers and step-sister growing up.  We spent many hours over super buttered mashed potatoes and lots of laughter.  But those days and those relationships are in the past.  Memories of a different time. 

It's also a holiday that meant so much to my dad.  My dad who is now in a nursing home and who just met Miranda this week.  We walked into his room and I said, "Hi Dad.  Meet your new granddaughter" and he smiled his famous smile.  But the smile did not reach his eyes.  I believe in his heart that he knew who she was and who I was and why we were there, but the diabetes and dementia have taken over and the man I saw sitting there, confined to a wheelchair, was not the dad that I used to see over Thanksgiving.  That dad has been gone for some time.  Sometimes I wonder if he was ever really there at all.

So did I answer the question correctly?  I think I did.  My favorite part of Thanksgiving is all the people that have made me who I am. All the people that have celebrated with me.  All the people that have grieved with me.  All the people who have loved me.  All the people who continue to love me.  My family.

I am not sure that my card was supposed to provoke me so, but I am glad that it did. I am also glad that I have one more month before I really have to go back to work! 

To my family...and you know who you are...thank you.

Custom made onesie designed especially for Miranda from one of my BFF's

Our First Visit

Yesterday was the annual Adoptions from the Heart picnic.  We decided to make it our first visit with Miranda's birth mother, too.  We agreed to 2 visits a year and this seemed like an easy one.  This was before we knew it was going to be 95 degrees out yesterday, but I digress!

I was nervous as hell to see M again.  (Let's call her M for the sake of her privacy).  We had not seen her since the hospital (aside from our video chat last month) and I was not sure how I would feel.  We never really spent any time together...there was our first meeting and then there was the hospital stay.  So I did not know what to expect.

We arrived at the park and checked in.  As we started to walk to a shady spot to stake out as our meeting area, we happened to see M walk by.  She was with her family and we all greeted each other warmly.  Hugs came naturally and immediately their eyes were drawn to the stroller.  I saw instant joy.  

As a group, we all walked over to a nice tree covered area and put down some blankets. Gary took Miranda out of the stroller and handed her over to M.  She was all too happy to take her and hold her. She cradled her and said hello and kissed her head and tickled her toes.  She asked how she sleeps and how she eat and asked how we are adjusting.  She took pictures and enjoyed every second.  I sat down next to her and observed it all but did not interfere.  This was her visit.  I have forever.

I took Miranda to feed her and promptly gave her right back.  I tried to stay close but to not hover. Gary and I both wanted to respect their visit but also needed to make sure our daughter's needs were met.  They were.

We walked over to the picnic photographer and asked if we could have more than the 1 picture allowed per family.  We took one of both families with Miranda right in the middle.  Then we got one of Gary, Miranda and me.  I can't wait to see how they turned out.

After about 2 hours, we decided to go.  It was simply too hot to stay.  M said goodbye and shed a few tears.  I cannot imagine how hard that was for her.  We will do another video call in late Summer and then our second and last visit this Fall.  

It was hard for me and yet it felt right to let M have that time with her.  After all, it's because M hand picked us that we have the privilege of being Miranda's parents after all.

I think we will all go next year.  Miranda may be running around by then.  Playing with the other kids.  Learning how adoption builds families.  Learning how love comes in all shapes and sizes and colors.  

I did not take any pictures of the day as the memories are more for M than for us.  And we will have the professional picture for Miranda when she gets older.  But I did take this one when we got home and bathed her - she was one happy little lady!

Healing

"Is this your first surviving child?" she asked with a kind voice.
"Yes" I replied.  Then sighed.  It was a nice way to acknowledge both Miranda and Allie.

Today was the annual tree planting ceremony hosted by the hospital where we delivered Allie.  The first year we went, I was numb and raw.  I remember being loved and being part of a community of others who understood my pain, but not much else.  The second year we went, we had lost Allie over a year ago and were still not any further along in having a living child.  It was also Mother's Day weekend which made it extra hard for me.  I was sad and frustrated and not in the best place.  This year, Gary, Miranda and I all went together and although I felt like we climbed a mountain to get there, the fact of the matter is that we made it there.

As we pulled up, we saw that there were already a lot of families there.  I said to Gary that it looked like a good turn out this year.  He said that sadly, it did look that way.  So many families that gather to celebrate the children they had but that they do not really have.

Everyone there is so kind.  They all know the agony of losing a child.  The smiles are genuine and their tears look familiar to me.  It was nice to being able to talk to other people who unfortunately understand.

When it came time to plant the tree for this year, they passed out a program which contained several poems.  This one, by an unknown author, resonated the most with me:

"We never had the chance to play,
To laugh, to rock to wiggle.
We long to hold you, touch you now
And listen to you giggle.

I'll always be your mother.
He'll always be your dad
You'll always be our child,
The child that we had."

In so many ways, Miranda is like an elixir that melts away my pain.  But she does not make me forget the past nor do I want her to.  Today I was able to talk about her sister to her and Gary wrote Allie a note from all 3 of us that we planted in the soil of the new tree.  We are a family of 4 - even if to many, we look like a family of 3.

Overall, it was a lovely ceremony and a pleasant way to spend a few hours.  I am healing - slowly but surely.  Not forgetting.  Not moving on.  Not ignoring the past.  I am remembering.  I am loving.  I am healing.

Saturday Ramblings

When your life consists of diapers and feedings and laundry, you tend to lose track of time.  I am surprised this has happened to me since I am such a planner.  I live by my calender and always know what time it is.  Or at least I did.  Someone told me earlier this week that she was excited for a short work week next week and I had no idea why.  Oh my.  It's May!  It's Memorial Day Weekend!  I had no idea.  The last time I knew it was a holiday was Easter.  Miranda's birthday.

So here we are with an almost 8 week old in our house and everything has changed.  In such an amazing way.  Some of the changes you can see (like the Babies R Us wing in our house) and some you can't (like the depth of the love that we both feel for this itty bitty baby).  Life is different now and I suspect it always will be.  I also suspect that this is exactly what we have been waiting for.  She is what was missing from our lives.

I struggle some days with how Allie fits into our family and then I realize that it's not really a struggle at all.  She is Miranda's sister and she is the baby that we felt kick and grow.  She is the butterfly that soars through the sky and she is the light in our soul.  She is never far from our hearts and yet she is no longer the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I think of at night.  Miranda is.  I suppose some of that is time.  Some of that is healing.  Some of that is just life.

I have started to tour some local daycare centers in preparation for my going back to work.  Some of the places are new and some I toured 2 years ago.  For the ones that I already went to, I am usually asked if I have been there before.  The first time I was asked, I said that I toured there a few years ago but that my daughter was stillborn.  Oh the look that I got.  Then the questions.  I resented it immediately because although I could talk about Allie until the sun sets and then rises again, I was there to find a good place for Miranda.  I did not want to short change either daughter.  The next time I was asked, I simply said that I was on a tour a few years ago when I was pregnant but sadly that pregnancy did not work out.  Is that any better?  Was I denying one daughter to spare another?  I do not think so.  I think I was just being a mom.  

Every so often I will be out with Miranda and someone will stop me to tell me how cute she is or how beautiful she is.  People are still asking if she is my first.  It's easier just to say yes.  How do I explain that she is my second without explaining why my first is not also there with me?

A few have remarked how Miranda looks just like me.  I smile and say thank you.  At first I denied it and said something like, "I doubt it...she's adopted!" but now I do not even do that.  I think she does kind of look like me.  And somehow she does kind of look like Gary.  She is as much ours as if she came from us and why explain that it's kind of impossible?  We know and respect where Miranda came from and have nothing but gratitude and admiration for her birth mother.  The fact of the matter is, though - we are her parents now.  We really and truly are.

Stillbirth.  Adoption.  Parenting.  They are all words that swirl around in my head.  They are all a part of my life.  Just as both of my daughters are a part of my life.  Now and forever...please, pretty pretty please.

4:44

I have wanted to write for over a week now.  I wanted to detail Mother's Day and how lovely of a day it was.  I wanted to talk about Miranda and how crazy in love her dad and I are both about her.  I wanted to write about how tired I am and yet how blissfully happy I am at the same time.

And as I sat here composing my thoughts for the first time that I have had to even sit down in front of my laptop since who knows when, I saw the clock read 4:44.

I immediately closed my eyes and started to think, "I hope that something great happens today."  And then I stopped myself and started to laugh.  Old habits die hard.  In the past, any time I saw a digital clock with all of the same numbers, I used to close my eyes and make a wish.  The same wish every time.  It might be time for me to stop making that wish for all of my dreams have already come true.

3 years ago this month, Gary and I said, "I do."  I choked back the tears as I saw the love that this man had for me and it made me dizzy.  It still does.  He still does.

2 years ago this month, Allie was due.  She never made it to May.  But we have made it to and through that month 2 times now with nothing but love and gratitude for the short period of time that we had with her.

Every day of this month, I have woken to the sounds of cooing or crying or laughing or gurgling and I almost always think (while wiping the sleep out of my eyes) that we have it all.  And I know that I am right.

What else is there to wish for? Maybe it's time I stop hogging all the wishes and leave room for some other people.

Such a happy baby

Both tired...both happy

Mother's Day Flowers

Celebrating Allie's due date at a local winery with my BFF's

Rainbows and Turtles!

Cousin Ella and Miranda

Us

Our Rainbow

"Every storm runs, runs out of rain
Just like every dark night turns into day
Every heartache will fade away
Just like every storm runs, runs out of rain"      

Gary Allan from his album, "Set You Free"

My mom came over today so that I could go for a walk.  Funny how the things that I used to just "do" now require so much planning!  Anyway, she is happy to get some one-on-one time with Miranda so it all works out well.  Which is good since she is still here which means that today I can blog!

So there I was, out and about, when this Gary Allan song shuffled into play.  Gary bought it for me a few months ago but the words really resonated with me now.  I feel like the darkness of our last 2 years is something in my past. It's a part of my present, but really much more my past.  The darkness has turned to light and the heartache has indeed faded.  Some of that is time.  Some of that is Miranda.  Some of that is life.

In all the paperwork that we filled out to bring Miranda home, we allowed for 2 visits and 4 Skype calls a year with her birth mother.  Our first video call was this past weekend.  I thought it would be 15 minutes.  It was 40.  I thought it would be easy.  It was not.  That's not to say it was hard.  It was just surreal to me - to share our baby with the person who created her.  To talk about milestones and doctor's appointments and eating and sleeping schedules.  To wish her a Happy Mother's Day for she is indeed a mother.  To be filled with such gratitude for her and for this little person that has changed our whole world.  I was glad we made the call but it emotional for all of us.  We set up our 1st visit at the adoption agency's annual picnic next month.   I am curious to see how I will feel on that day.  No matter what,  I just need to remind myself that it is in the best interest of Miranda to know where she came from and how much love has always surrounded her.

After every storm there is a rainbow of hope...Here I am

Mother's Day is this weekend and I am freaking out a bit.  Well,  not freaking out - but I am VERY aware of it.  It's not my first Mother's Day - it's my 3rd.  But it's the first one I feel like I can celebrate.  I want to scream from the rooftops - I AM A MOM!!  I never felt like I could do that before.  Not being able to parent Allie did not mean I was not her mom - but it did make it hard to celebrate.  Now all I want to do is rejoice!  For both of my girls.

A second person asked me this week if Miranda was my first child.  I said yes this time, faster than I did in the Disney Store last week.  I am not denying Allie - I am just choosing how much of my story I want to share.

I still struggle with the absolute bliss I feel now that Miranda is here.  Does that mean that the last 2 years never happened?  NO!  It just means that my storm has run out of rain.  At least that is how I feel about it today.

from http://www.october15th.com/

I ran into someone this weekend who recently lost his daughter.  She was not a baby and yet I felt I had some words that could help console.  Grief is grief and people that have had to bury their children know a whole world of grief.  In the same week that I was able to give "mom" advice to a friend, I was able to comfort a mourning father.  I have both my girls to thank for that.

So I am looking forward to Mother's Day.  I will embrace it.  I will celebrate it with my mom and next week with Gary's mom.  I will finally feel like I am a real part of the "mom" club and I will try to enjoy it.  I suspect that it might not be that hard after all.  Rainbows are hope and happiness and light.  Rainbows make anything possible!  Rainbows often come when the storm runs out of rain.