postscript

It's 10:00 on Christmas Eve night. The candlelight service at church was difficult right at the end; we did the traditional holding the little candles with the plastic base to "Silent Night." This is one of my favorite few minutes of the whole year, looking out into the dark church and realizing how many people are there. Tonight the church was packed, more than overflowing, we ran out of candles and bulletins. So that was a positive development, but this year after the last (sung) verse of the song, a violinist did a solo of an additional verse. ... I was holding David and for the first time in the service, he was being still and quiet and cuddly; I think he was impressed by the scene, as well. I began crying, the music was so lovely. Matt was right beside me and we held hands tightly; I was glad for the darkness so I could wipe away tears. ... I have not been overwhelmed by sadness today, but I have cried a little, and my overall mood has definitely been down. I was afraid the whole holiday season would be like this, and I've been pleasantly surprised that Simon's enthusiasm has carried me through, until today. Today I haven't felt like doing much, and of course there is still plenty to do, mostly to get ready to go out of town tomorrow after lunch, to spend the rest of the week visiting family. ... Now that the day is here I don't want it to end; it feels as though once this day has passed, that's officially the end. I've thought about this date every day since I found out I was pregnant; it never occurred to me to think about what it means, for me, when the day is over. Obviously, logically nothing changes at the stroke of midnight - there is still sadness and crying and grieving. But my instinct is, I don't want the day to be over, not yet. I'm interested to see how I'll feel tomorrow - we may actually have to peel Simon off the ceiling, so I'll be pretty busy during the morning, but then we have a 2.5-hour car ride so I'll have plenty of time to think and over-think.

Important (to Joanna, anyway)

I’ve started a few different Christmas-themed entries but haven’t been able to finish any – family busyness continues, and most stuff seemed kind of stupid and pointless after last week’s school shooting in Connecticut. I’ll talk more about that at the end, if I can, but I’ll start with the easy topic of the fam.

Incomplete – Please Come Back

Those of you who are regular followers know today holds a lot of conflicting emotions for me. Simon has dragged us all along on his joyous countdown to Christmas, and I am truly excited about both the secular and religious aspects of the holiday. But today (12/24) was also my due date, before my miscarriage this summer.

I’ve talked about all this a lot – on this site, to friends and family, to a therapist, in a journal. I’m doing a lot better but this day is hard, as I anticipated it would be. I wrote in the above entry, that my brain is not allowing me to think too much about the details of the Newtown school shooting, and I think it is doing the same thing here. I can talk about the loss superficially, and I’ve processed many different aspects of it, but over the past few weeks, I can’t get very far in terms of imagining what life would be like, “if only.” The thoughts about what should have been are still too painful – the last couple of months I should have been huge and uncomfortable and exhausted because I’ve been making all these preparations for not only one, but two babies to arrive. And as of today, I should be holding them in my arms.

You see what I mean, right? Today is sort of awful. I suppose I’m thinking that if I can get this official mourning out of the way early on, I can spend the rest of the day baking cookies and saying for the 138^th time, “No, Simon, you may not open one early.” This is actually the most I’ve thought about it in quite awhile, and it’s hitting hard.

Matt gets me a new Christmas CD every year, and I’ve built up quite a collection. This year’s is a “various artists” compilation titled Maybe This Christmas Tree, and yesterday I listened to it for the first time. The song “Bittersweet Eve” by Belasana really stood out for me, although it’s about New Year’s Eve, not Christmas Eve. Other than that tiny detail, it’s just about perfect:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BH44RBQ6MSQ

(first verse & chorus)

And your eyes are like a waterfall tonight

I could dive right in

But I'd soon drown and die

I'm not gonna make it

I'm not gonna last

The current’s too strong

And The river’s too fast

So I'm letting go

All right?

What's the point of holding on

When logic fails

I'm the captain of a ship beyond repair

I've given up slowly

Swimming upstream

I'm tired of being tired and lonely

I'm yours for the taking

Well it's bittersweet

To be incomplete

On New Years Eve

I guess honestly

There's a part of me

That just wants to go to sleep

It's a tragedy

To be incomplete

On New Years Eve

I'd have everything

I could ever need

If you'd just come back to me

Come back to me

This reminds me of an entry I read on cafemom.com, not too long after I miscarried. They have an online support network for pregnancy loss, and a young woman posted a photo of her twin boys who had recently been stillborn at 20 weeks. In the photo they looked like any other tiny sleeping babies, in the little hospital-issue knit caps and blankets. I think this was probably her first pregnancy, and judging by her profile picture she was probably in her early twenties. She said her overriding thought was, “I just want them to come back. I just want them to come back.”

I could basically understand what she meant then, but more so today, I know exactly what she means.

This entry marked the end of my going to cafemom, by the way. It’s helpful up to a point to realize other people are experiencing the same thing as you, and this marked that point. I don’t normally pity anyone, but I pitied this poor girl and her little babies – I felt so bad for her, and without discounting my own loss I felt her loss was so much worse.

Incomplete, yes.

That awful Wednesday, June 6, when the pain was so bad I finally had Matt take me to the doctor: we were sitting in some random spare office, talking with one of the nurses while we waited for the doctor. Simon was in daycare but David was with us; Matt had called his mom to come get him but she was still an hour or so away. David is always a huge hit with any group of female medical providers, and this nurse was no different. She was fawning all over him and he was making the most of it, giving her fabulous grins and making little super-cute David noises. I remember a specific instance of looking at him and thinking, “You know, this is good. Maybe this is enough. Maybe this should be enough.” Matt and I have discussed the mutual feeling that we had Simon and he was so great and wonderful, then we pushed our luck with David and he had so many problems at birth. Then he got healthy and strong and awesome, and we got greedy again, and tempted fate again, and look what happened, so maybe this should just be enough. … of course we both understand that’s not how these things work, but it was a strong feeling at the time.

So this Christmas Eve is difficult, and the sense of incompleteness is pretty raw. Probably the next several Christmas Eves will be difficult to some degree, but each one will hurt less, until it is more of a pang of sadness. At the same time, my life is pretty full and I’m reminded of just how fortunate I am to have my two happy, healthy boys, my loving husband, a warm safe house, and all the other good things in my life.

I’m so sorry, little babies. I’m sorry I never got to hold you or know you. But I will never forget you. I love you and I miss you. Today I am missing you a lot.

That took about half an hour to type, those five sentences, there was a lot of crying. 

So maybe that’s all for now.

When I was in Target last night, lots of thinking about things that come in pairs – mittens, gloves, socks.

Yeah I think that’s all for now.

Merry Christmas, everyone. I’m okay, really, just sad right now. 

Christmas and Head Injuries

Simon & Matt, Xmas Day 2010

It’s been a while since I posted anything – we’re so busy that I’ve started about five different posts but haven’t finished any of them, and by the time I go back to them it seems to be old news. Over the last 2 weeks David and I have both been sick and out of commission to varying degrees, and we’ve had plenty of extra school and church activities for the holidays.

One of the bigger pieces of news for our little family is that in early January, David will begin going to daycare full-time, at the same daycare/preschool Simon attended for three years. There are a multitude of advantages to this arrangement: I will still be at home most of the time, still available to do sick/snow days and doctor appointments and manage all David’s services, but I’ll be freed up to get more stuff done.

(more) Some Other Stuff

David at MMO

One follow-up from the last entry, about our Thanksgiving trip to Illinois: At one point Simon, David, Chloe and her mom and I were sitting together in the family room and Chloe was chattering quite a bit J about (something, I don’t remember). She recently turned two, and I heard Simon explain to her mom, “Chloe has words but David doesn’t really have any yet. He has [Simon imitation of David’s babbling].” I didn’t say anything at the time, but the next day I reminded him of this conversation and asked him if he knows why this is. He initially said he didn’t know and I could’ve told him the answer, I suppose, but I decided to give it one more try. “Well, take a guess why Chloe knows words and David doesn’t,” and my boy immediately said, “Because Chloe doesn’t have Down syndrome and David does.” We affirmed this answer, and then talked for a while about all the different ways David communicates with us even without words (pointing, shaking his head, reaching and laughing). Simon is a smart little guy, and I think kids usually understand way more about this kind of thing than adults give them credit for.