Forever 21...

Tomorrow is the first birthday that Samantha won't celebrate. It is also the first concrete marker of her absence since her funeral. I have been throwing away reminders from The Atlantic for a while now because there is no reason to renew the subscription Craig and I have given her in the past. I've recognized that I can ignore the nagging sensation that I'm forgetting something. I don't, in fact, have to talk Samantha or her mom to sort out what she'd like for her 22nd birthday, because she will never turn 22.

Birthdays are naturally a time for reflecting on the past, even without a loss. I remember that I actually missed Samantha's birth all those years ago. When I got the call that Janine was in labor and heading to the hospital, I was on the way to a movie. All I knew about labor what that it went on for hours and hours, so I assumed I had nothing but time. Not true, by the time I was heading there Sam was already born. When I did see her, she was a cute little thing with very strong lungs and over the next few months brought lots of evidence of her personal strength and determination. She was not going to be a pushover.

I was there for her 2nd birthday, the first time she really got the idea of presents. She took the first one handed to her and opened it with joy, immediately trying to open it and play. The look of confusion on her face as Janine took it away and handed her another gift to open instead was classic, as was the enormous grin as she realized that she was getting another toy. She opened it and then was further amazed when another was given to her. She immediately starting tearing through all the gifts, recognizing that this was truly a wonderful day. Just thinking about it makes me smile.

There are lots of other memories, the year she got a tutu, crown and wand and spent ages dancing around Meme's house. Clothes she loved, books we read and discussed and always the smile she had on her face when opening them. When I was pregnant with AJ, his due date was Oct 15th and Samantha was very clear that this was not an acceptable birthday for him. If he had to be born in October (which in itself was something of an affront to her), it needed to be 10 days away from hers. So, he needed to be born by October 8th or not come until the 28th. Luckily, he was born on the 8th so a crisis was avoided. Samantha generally did get her way.

All the happy memories help and hurt, which is pretty normal for a situation like this. There are still periods of time where I just can't accept that she's really gone, also normal. The next few months will be full of times when avoiding that reality will be impossible. Her birthday, obviously, but also coming is Thanksgiving, the last time our entire family was together. We finally took that group picture we've been talking about for years so we have a record of her last family holiday. The first Christmas without her is also coming. While we will still find joy in the holidays and our time together, there will also be a sense of loss and a knowledge that something is missing. The challenge, of course, is to remember Samantha at these times without making that loss the center of the events, particularly for the other children. A challenge we all acknowledge and I think won't have a problem meeting.

We may never get to see Samantha at 22 or 32 or 42 and get answers to questions like whether she would eventually have had kids of her own, but we did get 21 years with her and that is a lot of wonderful memories. Samantha will always be part of our family and those memories will keep her alive over the years to come.

How easily we forget...

I have, over the past few months, been slowly trying to de-clutter our house. For a good portion of the last 8 years, we would often find ourselves with something that we couldn't quite figure out where to put or we didn't have time to handle at that moment. Inevitably, we shoved it in a drawer or a basket or on a shelf to deal with later. This has been my chance to sort it all out, throwing away what we didn't need and finding a home for all we wanted to keep.

A week or so ago, I found a stack of pictures from a trip I took with CJ when he was only 3 months old, visiting a pregnant friend at her mom's in Montana for a week-long baby boot camp. One in particular made me stop cold. It was a shot of me and CJ sitting on her couch. There was nothing particularly special about the shot, I was looking at him and he at me and we were both smiling, but it shocked me because I looked happy and content and thrilled to have this little guy next to me.

It shocked me because I suddenly realized that I never think of myself as being happy when CJ was a baby. I know I must have been, obviously, but to me his first year has become a time of continuous crying and sleep deprivation. My strongest memory from that time? The night when Craig woke up and came into CJ's room at 3 am to find me yelling at him in his crib that he HAD to sleep because I couldn't take it anymore. Craig calmly took me by the shoulders, led me out of the room and put me back in bed and then handled CJ himself. Definitely not my strongest mom moment, but a pretty accurate picture of where I was at the time.

During one of CJ's occupational therapy sessions last year, I was speaking with the director of his program and talked about this time. Another mom overheard and chimed in with her story, almost identical to mine. She actually said that she felt like she was suffering from PTSD by the time she made it through her son's first year. The director said that it was completely typical behavior for infants like CJ and her son, the crying and inability to sleep consistently are an early symptom of their disability. It was amazing how relieved this made me feel, even after all these years, knowing that I wasn't alone in my experience and that it wasn't something I was doing wrong that made him so different from his brothers.

Still, I realized last week that I haven't put it behind me because I haven't managed to rebalance my thoughts of that time. As challenging as he could be, CJ was a sweet and adorable little guy who had lots of wonderful moments and I'm doing him and myself an injustice by not focusing on our happy times together as well as the struggles. I've never sat down and put together an album of his first year as I did with his big brother. I'm thinking this is the time to do that and revisit ALL the memories of that year.

What exactly is doing nothing?

It was definitely the most inane conversation I've ever had that did not involve a 2 yo, perhaps because I was taking on that role myself.

Craig: "Are you heading to bed?"
Me: "I suppose, but how am I supposed to be tired? I didn't do anything today."
Craig: "Of course you did, I've been sitting here watching you do things all day long"
Me: "No I haven't, not really."
Craig: "Yes, you did." (Proceeds to list things I did yesterday.)
Me: "Well, right, but those don't count. That's not really doing anything."
Craig: Wisely walks away shaking his head.

So perhaps I was pushing it this morning when I mentioned that if we left the dining room the same color we would only need to paint the one wall near CJ's seat instead of the whole thing. Craig did agree with me on that point. When I went on to suggest that I could easily paint that one little wall, however, his response was pretty clearly against the idea. (Side note: I never realized how many different synonyms there were for the word crazy.)

The problem, of course, is that I feel fine, which is great. My trip to the hospital a couple of weeks ago gave them a chance to get a look at my heart, with no new signs of trouble, and adjust my meds. I am now back on something for my spasms (they took me off at the beginning of the pregnancy) and it is working beautifully. I'm back where I was weeks ago and so happy about it and about the rapidly improving odds of this pregnancy having a wonderful finish.

But, honestly, it is easier to sit around endlessly when you don't feel well than when you do. When I went to the OBs this week, I assumed they'd release me from purgatory given my big smile and glowing reports, but there was no change. I do still need to take care of my heart and now they actually have to add additional baby concerns into the mix. The new meds (channel blockers) are themselves completely safe for the baby, but my blood pressure just doesn't like all the meds and was at 84/54 at last check in. They need to make sure the little guy is getting all the blood he needs to grow and thrive and this is more likely if I'm sitting still than jumping up and, say, painting walls.

So Craig is right that I find myself becoming a master of rationalization. Cleaning doesn't count as doing something as long as I do it in small increments and don't do things like carry vacuum cleaners up and down stairs. Cooking is okay as long as the kitchen isn't a sauna. Going one place a day is all right as long as it is really important and I make up for it by not doing anything else the rest of the day, and so on. Thus far, I'm still feeling good, helped largely by the fact that the boys are at my mom's so there is no other chaos or stress here. Still, as long as baby seems okay, we might have found a good working definition of doing nothing that balances my sanity and health.

And, I'm going to take good advice given by a couple of people and start a baby project that does entail a lot of sitting. Maybe a hand-crocheted baby blanket will keep me occupied and sane.

Most important is realizing that we only have 15 weeks left in a pregnancy that didn't always seem like it would make it this far. Only 15 weeks until I get to meet my newest little guy and see what incredible new combination of genes Craig and I have managed to create this time. Can't wait!

Facebook as therapy?

I have thought about writing about Samantha many times, but haven't been able to bring myself to do it yet. Mainly because every time I try, I cry instead. (See, I just had to take a three minute break.) One day I will write about her and what she meant to us all, but not yet.

Instead, this is about something I have found fascinating over the last few weeks. Samantha, like all 21 year olds, had a facebook page and very kindly allowed her old, un-hip relatives to be her friends. In the days right after the accident, there was the expected outpouring of grief on her page, as family and friends posted their reactions to her loss. I visited her page that week and was moved reading what everyone else had written. It was nice to know that she had been so loved and I felt comforted.

What surprised me was when I returned to her page a month later. Facebook had suggested I write on her wall and I found myself wanting to connect to her in some way as we reached the one month anniversary of her death. I wrote her a message and it was oddly soothing. It felt like visiting her grave and talking to her, as if part of her essence was there among her lists of favorite music, goofy tattoos and random thoughts. As I finished, I suddenly realized that I was not alone in visiting her there. Several friends and family members had done the same, prompted either by habit or a similar note from Facebook. Again, it was comforting to read about other memories of Sam and know I was not alone in still missing her.

I returned again tonight, prompted this time by a graduation photo a friend of hers had tagged and posted. I was less surprised to see there were more posts, but noted another change in that some of them now referenced other posts on the page. Samantha's Facebook page has become a place where those who miss her can connect not just to her, but to each other, lessening the feeling of isolation that grief can bring.

I'm sure all this will pass as our grief becomes less immediate and Samantha's page will come to a natural end. For now, however, it is nice to know that I am not alone in being unable to imagine a world without her beautiful smile.

High Risk vs. High Hopes

I vividly remember one summer at my grandmother's searching for something to do and coming across an Erma Bombeck book. I actually enjoyed reading about the life of a housewife and thought she was pretty funny. One part I remember vividly was a conversation she had with her husband about cleaning out their attic. He noted that they would have lots of space if they parted with their crib and other baby gear, given that their children were teenagers. She vetoed him, reminding him that the quickest way to get pregnant is to clear your house of all you would need should you have another baby. Alas, I neglected to take the lesson to heart because on March 27th we emptied our house of the last of our infant and toddler supplies and, on April 6th, we found out I was pregnant with our fourth child. Let this be a warning to you all.

Craig actually took the news well, his primary concern being that the baby never felt unwanted or less loved because it was "an accident." (Which I consider further proof that I made an inspired choice in husbands.) I had been told not to get pregnant so I approached my doctors with some concern. They weren't thrilled but did agree that it was not, in fact, the end of the world. They simply wanted me to take extra precautions and warned me that I would need to have some extra doctors on board and would be seeing everyone more often than in previous pregnancies. I also have no choice in hospital for delivery since the only one in the area that has both a maternity ward and critical care cardiac unit is WHC. I'm a little bummed about this since I didn't have a great experience there with TR. Still, it seems like a small price to pay for a healthy mom and baby.

I do, however, have a lot of doctors, which is somewhat amusing. My regular OB is great. I've seen her twice and she's pretty laid-back, we do have to talk about heart stuff but she deals with it and always emphasizes that her expectation is that I will have a normal pregnancy and delivery and she'll keep thinking that until something occurs to make it otherwise. In addition to my regular cardiologist, I now have one who has a little sub-speciality in pregnancy and heart disease. He is, as he told me, "really excited about this pregnancy. I'm going to have think of things I've never thought about before." I'm assuming this is meant to be reassuring and it is somewhat since I really believe he is spending spare time working up different protocols "just in case." I'm also going to see a Maternal Fetal Medicine specialist, a combination of a high-risk OB and perinatologist. So far they are my least favorite since they seem to spend a lot of time focused on what could go wrong (plus they told me I can't have any caffeine at all, not even chocolate). I get that it's their job, but it is kind of a downer.

There is something of an element of mystery surrounding this pregnancy since no one is really sure what to expect. Only 150 documented cases of SCAD (Spontaneous Coronary Artery Dissection, in my case postpartum) have occured since 1931 and, since only about 45 people survived, there is not a lot of data out there. We're also pretty sure that no one else has been dumb enough to get pregnant again so I'm probably a first. Anyway, since they don't know they are all preparing for everything and that means seeing me all the time (every two weeks now and by the end it will be 2-3 times a week). We'd be in pretty bad shape if it weren't for Bonnie, who has volunteered to watch the boys this summer when I have appointments (yay, Bonnie!!). She and dad are also heading down to Florida early this year so they can come back and be here at the end of the pregnancy to provide whatever support I need. There is no consensus on whether or not I will actually make it to my December 8th due date, but we are operating on the assumption that I will.

Actually, we are working on our positive thinking skills in general. I haven't had any problems to date and there is no reason to think I will in the future. We know what the main risks are for me and for the baby and how they will know when there is a problem. We also know what they'll do at different stages of the pregnancy should the need arise. I refuse, however, to spend my time worrying about it and 80% of the time I'm able to ignore it all. I may be high-risk, but every pregnancy should be centered around high hopes.

Besides, I have bigger problems, like replacing all that baby gear we gave away. Oh, and did I mention I'm having another boy? Yeah, go ahead and laugh, everyone else has.

Planning for the future...

There has been a lot of discussion about the future in our house lately, both the near and distant future.

The countdown to summer has begun, with only 2 months left. The boys do a date check at least once a week ("how much longer to summer?"). Yesterday, CJ said "two months? I want it to be 2 weeks! No, I want it to be 2 days!!" They are also completely clear on what they will be doing this summer. Ask them and they respond in chorus "going to the pool!" AJ is going to golf camp one week but that was all he was interested in and nobody else wanted anything at all. They are anticipating days of swimming, running on the grounds, playing with friends and eating lots of ice cream. To them, life just doesn't get much better. I remember summers like that, waking up with only a vague plan for your day and letting it unfold before you. That truly is the magic of childhood.

A parallel discussion took place a week ago. Driving to CJ's occupational therapist, he and AJ planned out their lives as adults. AJ is going to be a famous golfer and rich. He's going to live in a mansion that he shares with his brothers, although he was clear that everyone would have their own rooms. CJ will take care of the house when AJ is away at golf tournaments. There will be a 25ft television in the living room and also a TV in every bedroom. CJ suggested rooms for the wives but it was then determined that they would not be married, they'd just hang out together with their friends. Craig and I, however, will have a room waiting for us whenever we want to visit and there will be a limo and driver to pick us up and drive around as well as lots of security and maids to take care of everything. TR was on board immediately when they shared the plan with him later on. And why not? It was, in essence, the grown-up version of their summer plans. They'll be together and wake up every day ready for a new adventure.

Having three boys is a constant challenge to our hearing and our patience. There is very little quiet time and a lot of wrestling, but there are also moments that remind you that the source of both is a special bond that they share and that will be there long after they have left our house.

How I Spent My Summer (and Fall and Winter)

Almost a year to the day after I told my school I would not be returning in the Fall, I pulled out my resume and started polishing it so I can send it out and hopefully land a job for this September. While part of me looks forward to being back in a school, an equal part of me wishes I could hold on to this year for longer.

I would be lying if I said there weren't individual days when I wanted to crawl out of my skin after the boys were particularly challenging, because there have been. They are far outweighed, however, by the incredible feeling of satisfaction I have experienced all year at being able to be present for my boys' lives in a way that wasn't easily possible when I was working. I've been there every afternoon for pick-up and also whenever there was a problem, when kids are sick or there is a flood or snowstorm that closes school for the week. Things that would have been crises in a world where I needed to be at work became almost stress-free.

Even better, to me, are all the times where I didn't really need to be there but could be. Field trips, of course, but also the 30 minutes I spent listening to the boys talk about their class science fair projects. Seeing how well they explained everything to the judges was amazing and seeing the looks on their faces when they saw me come in the exhibition hall even better. Would they have missed me if I didn't show up at 10:30 am on a Friday? Almost definitely not. Were they completely thrilled I was there and so proud as they showed me a part of their lives I would not have seen otherwise? Without a doubt.

I have also loved having a chance to spend time with TR before he joins the ranks of the school-bound. We have spent much of it doing nothing in particular and loving it, coloring is a big favorite and reading books definitely rates. There is something of a rhythm to our lives. We have great conversations about what he did at pre-school that morning during lunch on M, W and F (amazing to me since, in contrast, my 7 yo apparently does absolutely nothing all day, every day). We've hit some playgroups on Tuesdays and the library on Thursday. He comes to Stokes with me when I have committee meetings and plays with other little brothers while the grown-ups talk. He is three, with all that entails, but is also sweet and adorable and so excited to be with me that it makes me catch my breath at times. He's my last little one and having the chance to enjoy him in this way is a gift.

Another gift has been the time to step back and really focus on CJ and what he needs to be successful at home and school. We had a plan at the beginning of the year and, as with all plans, have had to adjust it many times over the last 6 months. My being home made all those adjustments almost easy and we have been thrilled to see the work begin to pay off. He is writing and coloring up a storm, a huge achievement for my guy who couldn't stand to hold a pencil or crayon, and making progress in other ways as well. We have a long way to go but have made a great start.

I've also been able to focus more on my health and have made great progress there. There are still bad days or weeks, a given with a chronic illness, but they are now shorter and farther apart. I've learned what to do to manage them better and Craig has had less stress trying to be all things to everyone when they occur.

Unfortunately, we don't have a printing press in the basement so back to work I go next year. And I'm not actually that unhappy about going back. It will be nice once again to be doing the job I enjoy. I am, I admit, hoping that the perfect part-time job will appear, one that gives me the funds we need and also the flexibility to keep some parts of this great year going. We'll see what happens, but I'm not holding my breathe.

Most important, to me, is knowing that the decision I made a year ago was in fact the best one I could have made for myself and my family. Whatever comes next, we are all better prepared to handle it because we've had this time and for that I am truly thankful.