Monday, September 28, 2009

Fine thanks, and you?

"Hey, have you heard from J? She is doing very well...."

I was back in Ann Arbor this weekend, visiting old friends and colleagues. While I was visiting my friend T's lab, I was chatting with a fellow we all worked with a few years ago, including my friend I talked about here and here.

I glanced over at my friend T, who stared sadly at me. He knew the answer to that question.

"No, I haven't heard from J since Ronan died. She kinda fell off the face of the earth and never called me or e-mailed me again," I said.

"Oh," the fellow said softly. You could tell he was surprised. (As was I)

"Well, what can you do?" I said and shrugged, trying to cut the awkwardness.

"What can you do?" T repeated.

We didn't talk about what J could have done. Things like call, e-mail, call again. E-mail again. Things that T did. It seems like a moot point, no? I get that she was uncomfortable with my grief. I forgive her. I would tell her if she ever picked up the goddamn phone again.

I have been on this path for almost 2 years. I know a lot of you who read are not part of DBL (and believe me when I say, I am grateful you are not). I know a lot of you know me in in real life, and have been following this journey with me for a while, and it may seems like I am a friggin' broken record sometimes. Wah-wah-my baby died. I should get the hell over it. Wah. Poor me.

But, for all the times that I feel I should apologize, I read the words I feel from another blogger, or three, and think, it's too late to apologize.

I welcome you to read my exact thoughts written by another DBL mamma, for a fresh perspective.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Give it to me....

I need good news.

I want to hear what happened GOOD to you today (yesterday, last week). You found $20 in your old jeans. You saw a child helping an old woman across the street. Something. Too much negative thoughts and happenings are going on in blogland. I need reassurance that in the midst of all this insanity, my besties are still feeling and seeing some positive things....



Sunday, September 20, 2009

Great Expectations

He was born a month before Ronan's due date. A surprise baby, welcomed home by his two older brothers. She was wishing for her girl, but when the ultrasound showed another tiny penis in black and white, she shrugged and said "hey, at least I know what to expect".

I never thought I would see this boy, as he is my BFF's nephew. The last time I saw BFF's brother (and family) was in 1999, before I left for Ann Arbor, and there was only 1 in the brood. When I managed to get the courage to finally meet BFF in April 2008 (and ignore his new wife's 5-month preggo belly), I asked did his brother and sister in-law have their baby. He said yes. He mumbled the name to me, but I ignored it and focused on dipping a french fry in ketchup.

Of course they had their baby. Of course he was healthy. Of course their family is complete.

This past June, when the girl was 5 months old, we walked into BFF's house for his son's birthday party, and lo and behold, the prodigal brother was there with all his children in tow, including the new son, who was now 15 months.

I avoided this kid like the plague. I hardly looked at him, didn't touch him, didn't ask about him. When he was near me, I found reason to get up and tend to Radha. The kid may as well been a pit viper. It was all very immature, but hell, sue me.

Yesterday, at yet another birthday party at BFF's house (this time for his step-daughter), the brother and family were there (much to my surprise since this was not a blood relative's party). I was sitting on the living room floor with Radha, playing with building block and shadow baby J wandered over to me and handed me his sippy cup.

I instinctively grabbed the cup and the boy sat down next to me and stared at me, sizing me up.

In that moment I had to come to terms with the cruelty of time. I feel like Miss Havisham on most days, but this boy, reminded me that life is continuing on. Two years will be here before I know it, then three, then five, then ten. I wondered when I will not feel such devastation. Will it always be there? Most days it is like a small hum, an undercurrent that something is amiss. But then there are days when I wake up drowning and it is takes so much to overcome it. This is truly the crappiness of this world. You never truly get a reprieve. Your child is never not dead.

The boy smiled at me, seemingly reading my thoughts. Someone once told me that children know your true heart. I handed him back his cup. He stood up, touching my hand, and I didn't flinch but instead reveled in the stickiness of it.

It was a start....

Friday, September 18, 2009

Kissing Cousins

He is blonde and on the cusp of turning 3. He loves Hot Wheels, Reese's Peanut Butter Cup cereal, and has more energy than a nuclear reactor.

He stops during his daily run of the perimeter of our living and dining area and kneels in front of Radha, who is sitting in her bouncy seat after a meal of oatmeal and fruit.

"Hi Row-ah" he says, and kisses her cheek. She closes her eyes slowly and smiles shyly at him.

He pats her head, kisses her again, and continues on his run.

A surrogate big brother.

A million images of what could have, should have, would have been flutter like butterflies behind my eyes--if only.

If only.....

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Shadow Babies

We all have them.

The babies that came along just before or just after the death of our children. The babies that survived and continue to remind us what can never be...

Well, my shadow baby had his first haircut this past weekend.....

Every time. It hurts every. time.

Thursday, September 3, 2009


I want to ask a question:

Do you have siblings?

Is your sister your BFF?

Is your brother a complete ass and you haven't talked to him in years?

Please share your stories. I am interested in the dynamic that I never experienced (being an only child).

Thanks for sharing!!!

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

How and Why?

The path is slippery, cold and uncertain.

I wish none of us were on it.

And I wish that there were guarantees that no more tragedy awaited us at the end of it.

I wish. I wish. I wish.