Monday, April 2, 2012

Catching Up

As the title of my blog suggests, I am currently enjoying a double nap time. And, you just know that now I've typed it, someone will wake up. Which explains a bit of the hiatus I've taken. You see, the boys have a bit of an aversion to sleep. So when they actually do sleep? I need to get things done. Which means this here writing hole gets neglected.

I sit here in disbelief that it's springtime again. Maybe it's because our winter was so unbelievably, weirdly mild. Usually by the beginning of April I start getting a little overly cabin-feverish, but really we've been out and about for weeks. (Oh, and next winter? We are so effed.) But mostly I can't believe it's been two years since I found out I was pregnant with O, still freshly grieving Calla's death. It seems like it was yesterday, and last century, too. I watch the leaves peek out from the tree branches and smell the air and feel the half-brittleness of the wind and can remember, vividly, being emotionally obliterated and scared shitless. Sometimes just the sight of a daffodil sends shivers down my spine.

I am so grateful for that little sleeping soul upstairs, and for the one asleep over there on the couch. I am still in disbelief that Calla died, but sometimes even more so that E and O are alive.

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I have a friend who this winter, had two babies, twin boys, very very early. And without going into the nitty gritty, one of the babies died recently. And I just sobbed for a week. When she let everyone know, all I could do was fall to the ground and weep. Which made me feel like I was overreacting--like it was more about me. But shit, you know? How can you not, right? I am devastated for her, and can't think of a thing to do, even though I've lived through a brand of this hell myself.

E watched me cry, and wondered. So it got us talking about where exactly my friend's baby is, why it is so sad. I told him he was in the stars, like Calla. And now, at lunch almost every day, E asks where they baby is, and why he is in the stars, and tells me he misses him. And Calla. And I tell him I do too. And then I wonder if three-and-a-half-almost-four is too young for these things, but then I think, I am too young for these things, too.

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Life right now is nearly how I'd imagined it would be before Calla died. Chasing around two little ones, having fun but getting irritated when I haven't had enough to eat or sleep. But I catch myself, hear that almost Pollyannaish voice in my head saying, "Yes, but they're here. Be happy for that."

I have a difficult time when I find myself getting annoyed, or, heavens forbid, yelling. Yep. I sometimes yell. I do not enjoy every second of every day. And this sometimes makes me feel like a failure. As though I've learned nothing. As though I'm taking my relative good fortune for granted. What kind of mother with a dead kid gets annoyed with the children she has?

Being happy all the time, I've come to finally accept, is not possible. It is okay to be annoyed that I'm reheating my coffee for the third time; that despite bribing using all the positive reinforcement known to man my child still routinely wakes me at 5AM (no, not the baby) and I get grumpy--these things are not happy things. The fact that these boys are here, alive, breathing, hearts beating--for this I am so eternally grateful.

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So during the time it took me to write this--not long, obvs--O woke up screaming. But with a little finagling and another go-round with the sleep sheep he's back to sleep. Which means, since I've put that in writing, he'll be up again in about four minutes. I'll try not to be away for so long.

11 comments:

  1. So this had me laughing...which may not be the intent but...well I yell at my precious alive child who I am so grateful for...shit should'nt we be forever patient because of their aliveness. UGH. Spring is rough for you...you have written about it multiple times...I am not looking forward to the Summer. For one Summer in this shit hole of Clovis is HOT (obviously Im not from here) second...my daughter died in June...I haven't yet experienced the season of her death for the second time...Just one more reason to hate the summer.

    As far as E talking about the baby who died and Calla? well I hope that talking about and being sad in front of my son will help him be a more empathetic individual. Is there ever a good time to talk about these things? Maybe when they are current and relavant like now.

    Sending love to you, my friend....And so incredibly thankful for the two non-sleeping boys you have.

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    1. I agree re: empathy. I like that E is talking about it--I hope it is sinking in somehow that these things are sad, and it's okay to be sad and to show it. Especially for my boys--they need to know feelings are perfectly wonderful to have. But oh, at such a cost, right? Oy.

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  2. This had me laughing too.... over the reheated coffee and also the Blo winter next year. I have be watching in awe threw facebook at the mild winter and all i keep thinking is man, i bet this summer you guys are gonna be slammed with rain... we shall see.
    I feel you on the daffodils though. i was out in the yard today and all the blooms remind me of how disgustingly blissful, innocent and happy i was this time last year taking pictures of all the flowers and thinking of the baby that was on the way. I see them differently now, i can't help it.

    I think the earlier the little ones are talking about and trying to understand death the better. It's impossible to understand these things, might as well start as early as possible and sometimes the blunt thoughts of a child can be so comforting. I think about that from time to time about my possible future living babies. will they grieve their brother gone before them? Or will it not even phase them and they will just think that i am a sad crazy strict mom obsessed with them staying alive? who knows.

    I am so sorry that your friend knows what this life means. I would have cried too.

    Glad that you can sneak in a little post even if it's a short nap. xoxo

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    1. Oh crap, I know--we are so screwed. As soon as the first Buffalonian put on her flip flop in March I started beseeching the summer gods to ignore her ;) Hahaha--I hear you.

      And as for the future babies, it will just be their life, right? Their normal, I guess. As crapola as that is. xo

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  3. From one yeller to another, I hear you, and I understand you. We're all just doin' the best we can. And I'm so sorry to hear about your friends. And yeah, the daffodils. Get me every time.
    xo

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    1. It makes me smile though that we get daffodils at completely opposite side of the year--damn spring flowers ;)

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  4. I have missed your posts, MB, because they make me laugh, tear up, point and nod and feel less alone in this crazy sahm parenting world. I agree that we just can't achieve a place of always being Mrs. Cleaver. Even as I am screaming, I am grateful for the kids. It doesn't mean that when they pour out a smoothie on the floor because they want juice I am not going to lose my shizzle. (Thank you, Thor!) I don't know what I am saying because I too have been up since five. So, just a hollah, sistah. Agreeing, nodding, relating. And also I would have cried and banged on the floor too. It is so unfair. So very.

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    1. We should hang out with our non-sleeping kids and drink coffee together. And let them run wild and not care about the upended salt shakers and thrown sneakers ;)

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  5. Hmm double nap time. Sweet bliss.

    I think I know what you mean, I'm still in shock that she died but perhaps I am even more shocked that my other two are alive. It all seems so very unlikely. My head is still trying to catch up with their presence as it spent so long processing the absence of the first one.

    I'm so very sorry to read of the loss of your friend's little son, for obvious reasons her family's story tugs at my heart in an awful, awful way. I hope her other little boy continues to thrive.

    I do struggle a lot with horrible (understatement) guilt when I yell or snap or feel as though I am not appreciating every second as I should. I frequently tell Jessica off then end up flinging myself into the next room to cry. It upsets me FAR more than it upsets her. Because it is all so very close. Death is so close and to be alive is such a strange, amazing chance. But I don't think human beings can be designed to live in full appreciation of how lucky we are, we need to get annoyed and snappish and want our coffee only heated up once. And those things are not necessarily incompatible with being grateful with every single fibre of our beings.

    Going off to cry tears of gratitude for my fellow grateful yellers xo

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    1. Her other boy is doing really well, and for that I am again grateful. But I feel like I know better now what you and others who have lost one twin have gone through. It is all so heartbreakingly awful.

      And yes, those moments of double sleep were just wonderful :)

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  6. Well, I am seriously late to this post.

    You sound so reasonable, sane, even-tempered, measured when you write - yes, even when you describe (occasional) yelling. I feel so *not* those things, most of the time. It helps me to know that the internal struggles are the same & you aren't a Stepford. :)

    The other day I was bugging myself about cleaning. Then I remembered what you wrote once - about how it will be there later, anyway. I ditched the dusting. I am still glad.

    Thanks for being real and being Mary Beth and - this sounds weird - for falling to the ground and sobbing for a week when your friend's baby died. If there were more people, more friends, in this world who cared like that, maybe I'd be less eager to be rid of the whole mess.

    xo Cathy in Missouri

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