Saturday, September 22, 2012

Catching Up

I know, I know... I'm one of those BLMs who has a rainbow and stops writing consistently...

It's not really that I'm so busy with Grace, as that I am just busy in general- all stuff baby and new house have combined to be a pretty active life for me. I'm trying to immerse myself in baby-activities through our local municipality so I can meet other moms like me (except... they're decidedly not).

I participate in baby sing-song classes which is adorable and a lot of fun.... For about 25 minutes Grace coos, giggles and smiles until she suddenly finds herself absolutely starving and also very tired- demanding to both nurse and pass out simultaneously. She does this every class, without fail.

How can you deny this sweet little face when she wants milk? 
I also participate in a mom and baby fitness class and OMG I am no where near anything resembling fit. Throughout the hour class I was required to perform approximately 45 push ups and 30 sit-ups along with other physical activities. It was so hard yo! I'm so out of shape after having two babies back to back whilst performing no exercise, which is totally my own fault, but still. This time Grace's crying and insistence on being nursed to sleep came to my benefit so I could take a breather for a few minutes... ha.This was on Tuesday and I'm still whining about my sore arms. ha.

In all honesty, if you were to ask what I do on a day-to-day basis, I would be hard pressed to actually come up with things to list. I'm just tired. I'm just busy. I'm just tired.

Grace remains a wonderful baby. She sleeps through the night (passing out around 8:30, waking up around 5:30 to nurse, then falling asleep again until 8 or so). I really need to be putting myself to bed around the same time because I am continuing to be fatigued in the morning and I think it's time I start to get myself together.

This girl's favourite activity is standing. She loves it so much.
Grace is a thumb sucker- she will occasionally take a soother, but she prefers her own thumb (actually my boob, but will settle for her thumb). She's actually rocking in her swing, sucking her thumb, passed out as I type. I love this little girl. :)

But man do I miss her big brother. I have found myself in tears on several occasions this month. I just hate that he's not here, too. I miss his little face, I miss his poor latch... I miss his adorable little bum and I hate so much I don't get him back. Ever.

Ever.


In early September Scott and I attended a Celebration of Life for organ donors in Ontario. We knew it was going to be an emotional event for us, and we actually weren't sure we were going to attend. In the end, we decided that Jack would want us to go, and so we did. We went for him, to hear his name, to honour his gift.

It was a beautiful event in Toronto and it was an absolute tear fest for us. We were among approximately 40 other donor families there to celebrate our loved ones. There were speeches from an organ donor's mother, from a heart recipient now living life to the fullest... There was a portion in the ceremony where the names of the deceased were called and the families invited to the front to collect a medal in their loved one's honour. 

Proof of Life.
We collected the medal and as we did so we were asked who Jack was to us, and how old he was. When we told the Rabbi Jack is our son, and he was eleven days old, he look shocked and said he didn't realize someone so young could donate... Later a slideshow was presented and we saw our boys sweet little face and Scott and I sobbed harder than we have in a long while. The family next to us looked over at us in recognition and I could see the pity in their eyes in acknowledging our sweet boy.

I wish I could smooch this little face. To breathe him in. To kiss his lips.
Seriously, I hate that this is it, that there really aren't any more ceremonies or memories to be made. I know I've said this repeatedly and absolutely nothing has changed about it. I just miss him.

At the risk of sounding like a complete psychopath, I often hold Grace and cry and tell her how much I love her and how much I love her brother. That her brother would love her. And how much I wish she could meet him. And my heart stings with the knowledge they'll never meet on this side of heaven. I hold her to my chest and I cry miserable tears of sorrow and I hate that I do that to her, but the aching for her brother is not at all satiated by her being in my arms.

I read about other BLMs who feel like they've been healed in receiving their rainbows, and I can not relate. He was here and now he's not and that is heart wrenching. Neither time, nor subsequent babies nor any circumstances can change that. I miss him and all he should and could have been.

And here is where I sign off for now because I'm crying again and my gal is waking. She sees enough tears in her momma's eyes and I think I need to work on that a little...

Monday, September 3, 2012

I'm irritated & Monthly pictures

This is going to be all sorts of ranty, but I've been stewing over it for the past few days.

I'm still bewildered that this is my life. I absolutely love having Gracie and having her (alive) home with me, until next May when I go back to work and then go off pregnant again shortly-there-after with any luck. I just still can't let go of the fact there should be two... A twenty month old little man and this chunky baby.

I see two year olds and I can't even begin to imagine what having (a living) one must be like, and yet I should. I imagine it's busy... Crazy... Frustrating... But most of all, I imagine it's wonderful. I'm frustrated when I see mommy bloggers who were pregnant at the same time I was with Jack who have gone on to have their second baby shortly after I had Grace... Because why do they get to be so freaking lucky and happy and perfect? I know I'm so lucky to have her in my life, and I truly, truly know this... But I just can't help but continue to wish I had them both, you know?

I hate that my mind is constantly trying to "catch up" to those with two kids... Because I've had as many births as the national average and yet only half have made it... It is just another thing which bothers me about this whole baby loss thing... That the numbers just don't work.

I hate that I will carry this with me all the rest of my life. I hate that I'm angry and that I'm not blissfully ignorant. I miss that version of life where I don't know what this is like... Somedays it just sits so heavily on my shoulders. I'll be having an absolutely wonderful day singing and playing and interacting with Grace, and then my mind will wander and I'm overcome with sadness that he isn't here too...

I'm incredibly rage-y these days towards some people. For example, I'm currently butt-hurt about someone not getting immunizations for their kid because they find it unnecessary... Wanna know what I find unnecessary? That my son died. THAT was unnecessary... Because my experience has taught me that had Jack been a little bit older, then he may have possessed some immunity against the infection which ultimately cost him his life thanks to these same needles... And that someone would make that conscious decision NOT to give their kid that benefit... That's the part that irritates me... Not because they don't inoculate... But because at the root of it all, it's as if they just don't think it's going to happen to them. Which makes me want to freak out and throw a hissy-fit like a three year old. It makes me want to cry and scream and repeatedly hit my head against a wall. It enrages me.

Fuck. In all honesty, I don't even know enough about injections to have a well-formed argument... Sure I've read things and I am a believer in science... But my response is irrational and completely out of line with someone else's decision making... It's how I feel, and I'm irritated by it. I am irritated because it absolutely should not happen to anyone, but likewise it shouldn't have happened to us... And I wish I could have the smugness and confidence to think it couldn't happen again to us either.

I sometimes feel like when I speak to this person they aren't really listening... Like she smiles and nods her head as though she's paying attention, while simultaneously thinking I should find myself a thickly padded room. Like she thinks I'm trapped in the world where babies die all the time and I need to get out of it... Like it's an anomaly rather than the norm... But the problem is that I've seen behind the curtain, and there is no unseeing these truths- babies die, no matter how hard you love them, how much you wanted them, and no matter how much you would lay your own life on the line to protect them. They just do. And it's incredibly unfair and incredibly disturbing. But they do.

I'm likely reading too much into this, but I almost worry I can't get past this stuff... That these are things that constitute a deal breaker to me. Had you asked me twenty months ago my thoughts on such things, and I would have shrugged... Now somehow I'm taking it personally... But when your daughter sleeps in her crib at the foot of the bed, and her brothers urn sits 2 feet from her... THIS is what the death of your child does to you. This is what it's done to me. THIS is why I am the way I am.


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Onto happier things... The progression of Grace since birth... You'll notice the size of her thighs keeps increasing... I've been assured this is what happens until they start crawling...That one day she will be able to use those strong little leggies to walk her around... But we'll see. ha.





Somewhere between weeks 2-3 my milk must have really come in... ha.





I can not believe it's already been four months since we welcomed her into our lives. It's truly been a blessing and I am soaking this time up with her. Already it seems like she's making the transition from sweet little baby to a spunky kid. It's crazy, and wonderful and I'm so thankful.
 
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