Milestones!

Well~today is a huge day in our household. First, it started with Laura taking three wobbly steps then collapsing in my arms, full in a fit of laughter. She was so proud of herself and full of giggles as she did it again. Her face lit up in complete bliss. I just love to watch kids do new things-they get such a kick out of themselves and think they are so great. I do too.

Then, the mailman delivered a package to our door. That the mail truck drove up our driveway in and of itself is enough to bring Joey complete joy, but the fact that the package was for him made it all the more exciting. Although I knew what was inside (I did order it, after-all) I wondered what he would think. Would he really be happy about the contents? Would he care at all? Would there be dissapointment that the package didn't contain a toy, but rather, it had sheets and a comforter inside?

There was only one way to find out and that was to open it. I saw the confusion on his face when he saw what was inside, but then we took the comforter out of the bag and laid it on the floor and he beamed and exclaimed, "Hey-Mom, there's a digger right there. And a dump truck. And a steam roller. And a backhoe. And a...(okay, you get the point)"

While the bedding was in the wash, he helped me move his new big boy bed from the guest room into his room. Then, instead of quiet time today, he helped me make his new bed. I left his crib set up because I expected am adjustment period and thought it might be easier for him if we did a slow transition-perhaps a few days or a week of naps in the bed but nights in the crib, then a few nights in the bed before we take the crib out.

At bedtime, he wanted me to lay in bed with him and read him stories. I thought maybe he was scared to be alone in his new bed, so I asked him: "Are you nervous, honey?" "No Mom, but it's really cozy in my bed so I want to share it with you"

Who would have thought?

Then, before I left he said, "Mom, I think we should take my crib out tomarow. I don't need it anymore"

So much for transition.

No less then 10 minutes after I put him down, R came home from a late meeting. He went upstairs to say goodnight to Joey before he fell asleep and to check out his new bed but wouldn't you know it-Joey was already sound asleep.

Seems he's adjusted pretty well.

I think I had a harder time with this change than he did! Now if I could only get him to go on the potty....

Rainbow Baby

The expression "Rainbow Baby" refers to a baby born (who lives) after (a) child/ren dies/die. I've seen it used a lot on various support sites by loss moms but personally, I've never liked the term and I never use it in reference to either of my living children.

About a year-year and half after Hannah, Ryan and Abby were born, I was reading through my local, small town newspaper when an obit caught my eye. It was for a baby who died shortly after her birth. Although I don't know the Mom, I went to school with the Dad for years. I was deeply saddened for this family and for the pain I knew they now feel.

A year ago, I saw in the birth announcements of the very same paper that this couple had gone on to have another child-another girl. I was very happy for them because I know that having a another child doesn't replace the baby who died, but it can soften the pain significantly.

Today, I read in the paper that their baby girl died on June 20 of a rare form of pediatric brain cancer. She was one year old. There was a big article and it ended with "Olivia Rose is predeceased by her sister, Elizabeth Hope..." I feel sick with sadness for this family. Babies aren't supposed to die and certainly this isn't supposed to happen to a "Rainbow Baby". But it does.

Perhaps that's why I dislike the expression...

Is It Because 5 Years Is Right Around The Corner?

Recently, I bought new bedding, a lamp, sheets, throw pillows and a valance for Joey's room. His room is currently very "baby" and when he goes into his big boy bed (which should have already happened but hasn't) I'm going to redo everything.

The new theme is of trucks and cars and he's going to LOVE it. I tend to be one of those people who does the whole "Kit and Kaboodle" when I decorate (especially the kids' rooms), so I'll paint the drawer pulls navy (or maybe I'll paint the furniture navy and the drawer pulls red) and it will be "fun" and bright and cheery. And, did I mention that he's going to love having trucks as a theme?

So, why can't I bring myself to start pulling down the border? Why can't I take off the wall hangings that I painted while I was on bed rest? Why can't I stop thinking that this is the final "let go" of physical reminders from when I was pregnant with Hannah, Ryan and Abby?

Why is this so hard?

How Old Are They?

Every year, a theme park in my state hosts a Deaf Awareness Day and the entire park is accessible via interpreters. I did this job for years because it's a fun gig and very social. The last time I did it was in 2002 because the following year, I was newly pregnant with Hannah, Ryan and Abby and although there were no complications at the time, I didn't think it was a good idea to be in the heat and on my feet, even for part of the day.

When the coordinator called me this year to see if I was interested in interpreting again, I said yes right away. I was excited because it would be nice to have a day with people who know me not as a Mom, but as a professional.

An hour before the park opened, we (the interpreters) started "working". We had a 15 minute informal meeting with the Interpreter Coordinators to discuss the logistics for the day, then we had 45 minutes to socialize, have coffee and breakfast. It was wonderful for me: there were plenty of hugs, a few tears and a lot of laughs as I caught up with some old friends. But, before I knew it, the doors were getting ready to open and we all scattered to our assigned locations. The day flew by and working again was exhausting and exilerating for me at the same time.

Just as my day was winding down, a Deaf woman I worked with for many years but hadn't seen in a long time approached me and gave me a huge hug. She commented that it had been years since we'd seen each other but that she's thought of me often and wondered how I was doing. With a huge smile she signed, "I'm so impressed you're here with how busy you must be. How old are the triplets now?"

At that given moment, I would have done just about anything to be somewhere else. It wasn't that she mentioned Hannah, Ryan and Abby, or even that she didn't know they died. It was that she was so excited to see me and she was so happy for me and now I had to tell her what happened.

"Oh, I guess you never heard that unfortunately, they were born prematurely and all three of them died shortly after their births" and then, without missing a beat, I went into what I call "making them feel better mode" I rushed over the fact that they died and moved right into my current life: "it was very difficult but the greatest gifts they have given me are my 3 year old son, Joey and my 1 year old, Laura, who are the light of my life...and you, how are you doing?"

I did everything I could to make it easier for both of us, but it was clearly uncomfortable and it made me realize why I never went back to full time work after they died. Had I been able to walk into an office and see everyone the first week I was back, I may have done it. But as a freelance interpreter, I worked with so many different people every day that even now, 5 years later, people remember that I was pregnant with triplets but don't know that they died.

And still, almost 5 years later, running into people who ask such an innocent question with such excitement can still knock the wind out of my sails...

Remembering...

Today, I picked up the worn, beaten down journal that documents my first year after Hannah, Ryan and Abby died. As I held the book in my hands, I thought about all the pain it contains. I opened it and as I read, the words on the pages became familiar to me but there is so much that I have forgotten.

The uncertainty...

1/25/04
...This is so hard...Today, R was holding me and he told me that he wants only for me to be happy again. Then he asked me if being with just him was enough to make me happy. What a difficult question to answer...to have him as my life partner, to share the joys and sorrows of life together, yes, that makes me happy. I can't imagine my life without him and the thought of losing him terrifies me now. But is it enough for me to be "just he and I"? I no longer feel complete being just he and I. The desire to have more children, children we can raise together, is so strong in me now that I don't know if being just he and I will be enough to make me completely happy anymore. Is it enough to make him completely happy? I don't know the answer to that, either....

The longing...

1/29/04
...I tucked Chloe [my niece] into bed tonight and when I held her little body next to mine, my eyes filled with tears...I could hardly let go of her-to feel a child snuggled into my arms--to know the love of that child--for one brief moment, I let myself imagine that she was my own child and it broke my heart to let go of her and feel that emptiness fill up inside me again. Will I ever hold my own child close to my breast and kiss him/her good-night? If I am so fortunate, will the love that child brings to my life alleviate this emptiness that I feel?...

The physical aspects...

3/3/04
Could there be a crueler pain then the death of ones children? I do not think so...the grief has infiltrated every fiber of my being. I feel so out of sorts and so raw again. [I had learned recently that my sister-in-law was pregnant] My heart is so empty and my arms ache for my babies. I want to be excited for Ed and Kate but my own babies deaths are overshadowing my abilities to share in their joy. I feel angry and hurt and it's so confusing. I am so tired. So very tired. I want to lay my head down and sleep for days. My eyes feel so heavy and my head has a dull ache to it, always. The skin on my face is tight from my tears and my eyes are so red and swollen from crying. I can not get it together right now to face even the smallest tasks. I am just so tired...so very tired...

It's hard to explain what I felt, reading these entries. It's almost as if I were reading a book that I couldn't put down. But in some ways I was detached from the grief, as if it wasn't my own. As if it was just a story that I was reading that moved me deeply.

As the 5 year anniversary approaches, I have found myself thinking more and more about those early days of my grief and all they encompassed. I don't want to re-live it, I don't want to go back and be in the dark depths of those early days again, but I have this peculiar need to remember it. All of it.

FREEDOM!

Laura had deformational plagiocephaly. That's very fancy medical terminology for abnormal head shape. The back left side of her head was flat and in turn, the front left side bulged out, causing all her facial features to be out of symmetry. All this happened because she had torticollis (another fancy medical term that means chronic stiff neck) so she favored her right side because turning her head that way wasn't painful for her.

We had an evaluation with a cranio-facial specialist for a corrective helmet to help restore her natural head shape. We were told that without the helmet, her head may restore itself to a more normal shape but it may not. With the helmet, it won't ever be perfect but her features will re-allign and her flat spot would only be noticeable by people who knew it was there. However, in order for the helmet to work, she would have to wear it for 23 out of 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, taking it off only for a bath and so we could clean it. Even with daily cleaning, the helmet would eventually start to smell funky. And, insurance rarely covers them.

Despite our nervousness about how Laura would adjust, but we decided to do it and at 7 months of age, she went into her helmet. Although we had a few really rough nights of sleep at first, she eventually adjusted to it. We went weekly to have head measurements and helmet adjustments and Joey became very well versed in explaining to anyone who asked (and some who didn't) that his sister "...wears a helmet to fix her head shape because it is flat but won't be when she's done with the helmet".

Today, our measurements showed less than a 1/8" differential between her left and right forehead, which is considered completely normal. The flat spot has rounded out nicely and is hardly noticeable, her facial features are back in alignment and although her ears are still "off", it's not noticeable. Today we were told she no longer needs to wear the helmet. Y E A H ! She is free!

I just want to add that the one negative to her newfound freedom is that when she had her helmet on, she would bounce off of furniture or clunk her head without consequence because the helmet acted as a buffer. She's hit her head more than once doing things she's done 1000 times with the helmet but now it hurts! I'm fairly confident it will be a quick learning curve and she'll be bouncing off things again in no time (or perhaps learning to avoid them!)

Just as Guilty

R and I are friends with our neighbors. They have a son who is one year older than our son and the boys play together well. R and I have always liked both the husband and wife and they are in the process of adopting a daughter who will be 2 months younger than Laura. It's always been a really easy relationship and we've looked forward to their daughter coming home so Laura will have a (female) playmate on our court.

Our parenting styles are very different and there have been times when I've felt the Mom has been harsher then she needs to be with her son, but basically I have always seen them as loving, caring parents.

Except today, I witnessed something that made me feel very uncomfortable. Their son was disobeying his mom and she lost her cool. She started yelling at him and then she picked up a ball from the yard and threw it at him, somewhat hard, hitting him in the head. He started crying and she grabbed his arm, pulling him into a time out. Joey stood there, eyes wide, looking back and forth from Mom to son and then finally, to me. I managed to smile at my son, then I walked over to him, hugged him and started kicking a ball with him, as if nothing had happened. The only comment she made was something like "kids can make you crazy sometimes..." I didn't know what to say and so in turn, I didn't say anything. It was getting on in the day and Laura was getting tired, so we packed up and left.

When we got home, I felt the need to talk to Joey about what happened. I was honest with my son and I told him that L wasn't behaving well and his mom got angry, but Mrs. S didn't behave well, either, because it's not appropriate to hit someone no matter how frustrated or angry you feel. He accepted this and we moved on, but I know my son and I know it had an impact on him.

And, I know that there was something very critical that I left out of our discussion and that was my behavior-or lack thereof. While I feel that talking to Joey was important, the truth is, I should have done something while the situation was happening and I didn't. In many ways, I'm just as wrong as the mom. I want to teach my children to stick up for what they feel is right and yet I didn't do that myself. What kind of message did I send to Joey (and L) by doing nothing? It's not that I didn't feel it was my place to say something, because the behavior was so inappropriate that it deserved, no it needed, to be addressed. And yet, I didn't do anything. And so, by my lack of action, the message I sent to my son that it's okay to allow things like this to happen, even though they are grossly wrong.

I'm not sure what I could have/should have said, but I know that I shouldn't have sat, silent, and let it go. The truth is, it would have been very difficult to say something and so I took the cowards way and said nothing. And that makes me just as guilty.
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Last night, after the kids were in bed, R and I talked about what happened. He agreed that saying something would be very difficult but that something should have been said. Since we live next door to them we will continue to have a relationship with them and so therefore, it's possible something like this may happen again. We talked about how this would be a defining moment in our friendship with them but we both agree that something needs to be said even if it means an awkward relationship from that point on. The question that still looms, that we're not sure how to answer, is what do I say to show that I won't condone this kind of behavior? We're both still thinking about the best way to handle it.

I hope I don't get into that situation again, but if I do, I hope I have the where-with-all to know what to say and the strength to say it.

Moments of Quiet Thoughts

Hannah, Ryan and Abby would have been 5 years old this October. They would have just missed the cut off for kindergarten in my state so they wouldn't be going this Fall, but still, they would be five.

Today, I had a rare situation where I was driving alone, which means I didn't have the chatter of Joey and the babble of Laura in the background. I chose not to turn the radio on and was just enjoying the silence. At times like this, I often find my mind goes straight to Hannah, Ryan and Abby. It's amazing to me that here I am, almost 5 years later, and there still hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about them.

Early on, people kept telling me that day would come and that the one day would eventually turn into 2, and then a week, etc. I didn't know what to think about that idea, 5 years ago. Part of me thought that would mean I had recovered from my grief and was living life again and part of me wanted to tell these people to "kiss off" because none of them had lost (a) child/ren so they had no idea how I would feel or think "one day".

It's interesting to discover that I do still think about them daily and I'm living my life and enjoying it again. I don't know why I thought thinking about them every day would somehow mean I was still constantly laden with grief. Perhaps it was because in those early days I could only think about them with grief and sadness and that's no longer true. It's difficult to explain what my thoughts and feelings are now because many times I'm not sure myself, but whatever the emotions are, they are not always heavy and sad. I'm so glad about that.

Anyway, when I have those rare times of being alone, my mind almost always wanders to them in some way. It makes me wonder, sometimes, what other (non-loss) moms think about when they are alone. But more importantly, it makes me cherish even more, my own moments of quiet thoughts.