Easton's Half Birthday

That's right, people. We celebrate Half Birthdays around here in our family.  It's sweet and simple. Kids get to wear their birthday crowns, I make them a Half Birthday cake, which is of course, half of a cake. We sing Happy Half Birthday To You. Easton even got two and a half candles.  There are no gifts, no guests, just us. It's a fun little tradition we started.

Easton, you are so big.  You zoom around fearlessly on your Skuut bike. You climb up onto the couch and changing table only to jump off like crazy. You chase the chickens, hang from monkey bars, and are enamored with all things construction related.  Out of the blue, no matter what people are talking about, you will happily inform them that excavators pick up dirt.  You gasp in amazement when you see bulldozers and backhoes on the road.

You are getting the hang of counting, and get all the way to 12 by yourself.  Then you skip to 18, get to 21 or so, and then go back down to 16.  You "read" stories, and love to do puzzles.  Lately, you are really into our United States puzzle where all the pieces are shaped like the states.   You are the master of sound effects (I am pretty sure you get this from your Daddy).  And whenever you sing songs or talk for your stuffed animals or finger puppets, you use this totally adorable super high pitched voice.

You have finally gotten the timing down for your Interrupting Cow Knock Knock joke. And last night, you told us one that you thought was hilarious.

Easton: Knock, knock
Mommy: Who's there?
Easton: Boo
Mommy: Boo who?
Easton: .... BANANA!!!! (then you laugh hysterically)

You say things like "baby tight" and "baby fast" to mean not too tight or not too fast. When you ask if you can do something you say "Mommy, dat fine?" And, you are asking lately how many things work. Instead, you say, "What it do's?" Daddy and I are kind of sad about this, but you finally learned how to say Gabiyalla, thanks in part to many lessons from your big sister. We can't help it, we still like to hear you say Yah-Yah, or even sweeter - My Yah Yah.  Like, I want my Yah Yah when you wake up from a nap and realize she isn't home.

Easton Michael, you have the greatest, softest heart.  You give us all giant hugs and you know just when we need them.  When you notice Mommy crying, you look tenderly into my eyes and wipe them away.  Sometimes in the middle of Family Circle Time, you just want to cuddle with your sister.  You met your cousin Isaac the other day and were so gentle and careful holding him. You couldn't believe how tiny he was. It's the same when you hold baby chicks.  You are the sweetest cuddle bug, and just want to be in your mommy or daddy's arms sometimes.

You melt our hearts. Thank you for being a constant ray of sunshine, for bringing us laughter and tender sweet moments when we need them most.  We love you, you big two and a half year old!

Mother's Day

Mother's Day was a quiet day spent with my sweet little family.  Gabriela asked her Daddy to take her to the store so she could buy me flowers. She and Easton each picked out a bunch.  I was in the shower when they came home, but that didn't stop Easton from presenting me with his bouquet of flowers for Mommy.

Everyone gave me handmade cards, which I think are the best.  There's no better way to express yourself. Gabriela made hers all by herself, and Easton dictated his.  There was some counting involved. He said he loved me. And when Lane asked him to say something to let Mommy know how much he loved her, he responded with, "I'm sorry I pushed you".  The kids' cards made me cry sweet happy tears of laughter. Lane's card made me cry tears of gratefulness for the awesome man that I married, and the beautiful children we have together, the life we have created for ourselves.

They worked hard in the kitchen to make me a giant fancy breakfast. Gabriela banished me to the bed until the surprise breakfast was ready. And I was not complaining.  But then she realized that Daddy talked to me about what he was going to make and was crushed that her surprise, was in fact not a surprise. Daddy saved the day by including some on the fly surprise elements of our breakfast including chocolate covered strawberries.  Obviously, this solved the problem.

Later I asked Lane to take a Mother's Day picture of me with Gabriela and Easton.

Our dear friends Heather and Serkan came to spend the evening with us.  They brought all the fixings for some late afternoon picnic snacking and the kids played together while we talked and cried together.  Heather and Serkan are some of our best friends. They aren't nervous about bringing up Simone. They expect us to talk about her and the feelings we are trying to navigate through. I know it isn't easy for anyone, but it had to be especially hard for Heather, who was 36 or 37 weeks pregnant that week.  They don't shy away from helping us carry this burden.  We are so grateful for them.

Many of my friends sent me sweet messages and texts on Mother's Day, letting me know they were thinking of me.  Really, we have the greatest support network, for which I am eternally grateful.

Lane got me a bracelet with a stitched up broken heart and an S charm for Simone.  It's to remind me that there is beauty in brokenness, and that we will heal from this, eventually, and somehow come out stronger - as individuals, a couple, as parents, and a family.

Also, at the beginning of the week, my beautiful necklace arrived in the mail from Tim and Kristie. Kristie so generously offered to purchase me a necklace with Simone's name on it. I found one that could have all three of my beautiful children's names engraved. I treasure it and wear it every day.

That evening, Heather left notes for us with some very thoughtful gifts.  Her note to Lane and me was so heartfelt, honest, and giving of herself, I burst into tears again this Mother's Day.

All in all, it was a day that could have been very depressing if I let it. But I am surrounded by so much love. Love from my husband, my children, my family and my friends. I could feel it so clearly, and it made this day memorable, happy, and reminded me of what a gift it is to be the mother of my children.

Things I've been thinking about

We seem to be having more good days than bad ones around here. I think we have our kids to thank for that one.  I don't think it diminishes our loss any, having other kids around, but I really think it's helping us get back in the swing of every day life more quickly since we have kiddos to feed, care for, play with, and be strong for.

Lane has been home with us for three weeks now, and will go back to work on Monday. I am nervous about how we will all feel when this happens.  I really thought that I would have more patience with our kids, knowing how fragile life is and how much more we appreciate and are grateful for our beautiful healthy children.  But sometimes this grieving business takes so much energy that I hardly have any left. Then I feel even worse for not being as patient as I think I should be. The other night, G was being sassy, not listening to me, and just testing my patience until there was none left. I got upset with her and sent her to her room to get her jammies on for the night. A minute later I was back and she was sobbing. She looked at me and said, "Mommy, I just love you so much and you do so much nice things for me and it makes me really sad when you are mad" talk about breaking my heart. I hugged her and we cried. It was a good chance to explain that everyone is extra sensitive, I always love her, and while I need to be more patient, she needs to work on being a better listener and that will help us have better days together. 

Getting back to every day life is going to be hard. For so long, we have been graced with the company of our amazing close friends, family, and midwives who are willing and comforting listeners, ask questions, and expect us to talk about Simone. It will be hard to transition from this to being around people who aren't sure what to say, so they say nothing at all, or people who don't even know that our world has been completely turned upside down.

The more I am out and about, the more I am encountering people who ask when I'm having our baby, or make comments about me being pregnant. Last time, Gabriela was with us at the nail salon and I told the woman we had already had our baby. Usually I leave it at that - they can wonder what happened, why the baby isn't with us, but Gabriela (and I'm proud of her for it), simply told the lady that our baby had died. I wish it was that easy for me to say.  Of course, the woman felt terrible. Now I know it is never, ever safe to ask a stranger if they are having a baby.  

Today a woman asked me how many kids I have. Now a seemingly basic, small talk question is gut wrenching. I don't know what to say. I don't want to leave out Simone. She is my baby, but telling the truth seems more like I am burdening the other person with the heavy weight that I carry, when they just are trying to chitchat. 

I feel like this innocence I once had is shattered now. Every time I see pregnant women, I think how happy they must feel that they must have no idea that just because you are pregnant, just because you have a normal, easy pregnancy, doesn't mean you are bringing your baby home.  I suppose I'm lucky. This lasted nearly 36 years for me.  My poor Gabriela learned this hard lesson as a kindergartner.  When my sister had her son three days after Simone was born, I told Gabriela her Auntie had a baby.  Her immediate response, "Oh! Did her baby live?" because in our reality, they don't all live.

The other night at bedtime, Gabriela asked me what color Simone's eyes were. It crushed me that I didn't know.  I peeked at her little eyes once during the short time we had her in our arms. I didn't want to try again because her skin was so fragile and delicate, I didn't want to do anything to damage it further.  I wonder if, hiding in those chubby little cheeks she might have had some dimples, just like her big brother and sister.  It's painfully devastating and impossible to truly understand why she is not here with us, but to think that we won't be able to watch her grow and change and even get to know her is just plain cruel. Gabriela gets it. She is upset she won't be able to watch her sister grow and that they won't ever be able to play together. She says things like Simone wasn't supposed to die. She will always be her sister, and she can't believe that it happened, but it did. Oh sweet girl, we all feel this way. 

Today is a harder day. Full of other people's babies, heartfelt notes, and Simone's death certificate arrived in the mail. She doesn't even get a birth certificate, because they are certificates of live birth. How can there be a record of her death without one of her birth? 

I am discovering that my new normal life includes not having any idea when I will be struck by a wave of grief. There is no way to anticipate how I will feel, but everyday I cry at least a little and think how different our lives might be if our Simone had only lived. 

Family Fun

We have been trying to add more cheer to our daily lives lately. We all need more smiles and fun and time together as a family. So, naturally, we went out for ice cream cones after the dentist on Monday. What? You aren't supposed to do that? Let me tell you, nobody complained. 

Tuesday, Auntie Liss arranged for special girl time with Gabriela for a painting craft project. They worked on it until it was time for Gabriela to leave for her play date. That evening, we had family game night together. 

We have brought back Family Circle Time starting this week. Gabriela has been asking for it for a while and it helps us all start out the day in a happy loving manner by singing songs, dancing and saying rhymes together. 

We went to the Children's Discovery Museum in Sausalito on Wednesday and got back in time for our midwife visit. Our midwife brought her kids so Gabriela could visit with them. And then they had special time with Auntie Cynthia and Uncle Dan while Lane and I went to our meeting. 

Thursday was a hard day for me, but while I napped with Easton, Lane and Gabriela played games and did craft projects together. 

Friday was park day. Lane and the kids planted some tomatoes in our little garden bed. Uncle Noal and Auntie Elizabeth came to visit and brought us dinner. 

We went to a birthday party on Saturday. Slowly but surely, we are starting to return to our regular activities. I am looking forward to having my energy, strength, and mobility back after I fully recover from carrying and delivering my 10 lb baby. I am looking forward to taking Gabriela and Easton out and about on summer adventures. Because, yeah. We called it quits on homeschool for the year. I told our teacher I was not worried about Gabriela and where she is in school. It's more important for her to be with her family right now. 

So this is real

On Wednesday we received the call that Simone's  ashes were ready and waiting for us. 

The four of us got into the car and drove all of 0.1 miles to the funeral home. I intended to just go inside alone, but Gabriela really wanted to come with me, so our whole family went inside. Gabriela asked what happened the last time we were here, and then to see her sister's ashes. So we opened up the tiny, pink, heart shaped box to show her. 

We got back into our car and all I could do was cry. This was not how we were supposed to bring our newborn baby Simone home. Not at all. I remember holding my baby and this was what was left of her? And suddenly, these almost two weeks seemed so much more real and raw. Sometimes I honestly have trouble with the fact that I really was pregnant when I don't have a baby at my side. As much as I wish it wasn't, this is my reality. Our dear daughter didn't live. We don't get to see her grow, develop and learn, smile, or laugh with us. I regret not taking more time to document my pregnancy on this blog because really, we don't have much more to remember of her short life. She was so active all the time. Would she have known Gabriela's voice? After all that belly singing, how could she not? 

When we got home, Gabriela asked me to take down all the sympathy cards and read them aloud to her. I couldn't do it without crying today. I think it's good for her to know that this is sad and it's okay to give yourself permission to feel these feelings. 

On Wednesday, Gabriela came up to me and kissed my cheek. "I'm sorry your baby died," she said out of nowhere and hugged me. And, just as quickly as she came, she pranced away to play.

Later that afternoon, while one of our dear midwives was visiting us, Easton woke up from his nap. I wasn't even crying at the time, but he told her completely unprompted, "mommy sad she died. I give her great big hugs." I think he understands more than we realize. 

I can't even imagine how dark and hopeless we might feel if we weren't surrounded by these beautiful, spunky, and truly perfect children of ours. We are so thankful for our Gabriela and Easton and the strength they continue to give us as we honor, love, and grieve the memory of their baby sister, Simone. 

A week gone by, and then some.

It has been a little over one week since we said goodbye to our precious baby girl. It is absolutely unreal how completely upside down our lives have been turned in such a short time. 

I have had days where I have it together, playing outside with the kids, I even cooked breakfast for everyone one morning. Then I have days when I can't stop the tears from falling, I am just so utterly broken. Sunday was one of those days. I just cuddled up with the blanket my mom crocheted for Simone, the one we wrapped her up in. It's so hard waking up every morning without the slightest idea of how hard it might be to get through the day. 

On Friday, Lane took Gabriela and Easton to park day. It was the first time I was alone. I missed him terribly, but took some time to pour my heart out in some thank you notes. 

Yesterday was the first time I left the house, other than going to the funeral home. I felt so strange and anxious traveling on the freeway, knowing the last time I had done so was a quiet, nervous ride to the hospital. We took the kids to their dentist appointment, where the sweet, well-meaning hygienist said I looked like I was due any day. Completely caught off-guard, I mumbled that I already had the baby and walked away. She apologized to me later and hugged me, but she had no idea. What do I tell people? The truth? That our baby died and we had to leave her at the hospital. I don't want to burden strangers with our reality. 

I have been sleeping better, though the other night I dreamed about Simone. She was still in my belly, active as ever, I could even see her little footprint under my belly, and I just knew the doctors were all wrong. My baby was alive. 

And while I feel so deeply the loss of my sweet baby in so much of my body, some how my breasts have no idea and are trying desperately to make milk for Simone. I never thought I would be trying to stop milk production. I nursed our other two kids for nearly two years each. This has been physically and emotionally painful. Like some cruel joke. It's been about a week though, and things seem to be improving. 

We have had to explain to Gabriela how Simone's body is being turned into ashes       She doesn't want me to give back the cloth diapers friends have so generously lent us, and she has put her head to my belly asking, "hey, uterus! Grow me a new baby sister!"

Easton asked, "why you take baby sister's car seat away?" and has mastered his new job as comforter and hug giver extraordinaire. 

Through this all, Lane, my sweet husband, has been truly amazing. He has been taking care of me, the kids, and the house. I know he is hurting just as much as I am. He has been so comforting, making me feel safe and loved and assuring me that we will get through this together. We have a hard road ahead of us, full of sadness and healing. I know it won't ever stop hurting, but eventually the pain won't be as intense. 

Our family and friends have been so supportive. Someone has visited us every day since we came home from the hospital. Yesterday was our first day on our own. We have been fed, our kids are being cared for and entertained, and people have been here to just hug and cry to and listen. It feels so strange to say this, but we are so fortunate. There is so much love surrounding us. 

Today my kids' books on grieving arrived. One in particular is truly perfect; I am looking forward to reading and talking it through with Gabriela. She asks everyday why Simone died and angrily announces that she didn't want her to. Nobody did, baby. Sometimes we hear Gabriela making up songs in the other room with lyrics like, "she was so special, even though we had to say goodbye and we cried, sometimes your sister doesn't live" so I know she is processing what has happened to her as well. 

Tomorrow we have a home visit from our midwife and we are also going to a SAND meeting (Support After Neonatal Death). I hope they can offer us the support we need, and figured it can't hurt to try. 

Each day we continue to receive touching cards from friends and family. The sweet offers, gifts, thoughts and love all show how Simone has somehow touched so many people in her short time here. 

We miss you every day, sweet Simone, and wish you were here in our arms instead. 

Some Progress

Just tonight, I was shocked to come into our living room and find Gabriela trying to read all our sympathy cards to herself. She brought some to me that were written in cursive and asked me to read them to her. I never would have been able to read such heartfelt touching words aloud without breaking down if I were reading them to anyone else, but I needed to be strong for my baby girl and I did it. 

She put each card away as she finished and then she brought over Simone's tiny hand and footprint molds. Gabriela asked me to tell her how we made the prints and I told her every detail I could remember. We examined the prints, the lines in Simone's hands, her tiny toes, we remembered her long fingernails. 

And then Gabriela brought me the box from the hospital. It has all the photos the hospital took inside. Gabriela looked carefully at each one. She held the hat that Nana crocheted for Simone. She asked me to tell her the story of how we got the wisps of Simone's long baby hair, she asked who made the crib card with Simone's footprints and how. 

A little later, I noticed Gabriela reading our booklet from the hospital called When Hello Means Goodbye. I asked her if she wanted help and we looked at it together. We read the story of another mama who experienced stillbirth. She talked about wanting to walk away from her pain and sadness and we talked about how Gabriela and I had a lot of the same feelings she did, how this woman went through the same experience as her mommy and daddy. 

Gabriela asked me who cried at the hospital, mentioned that she never saw so many grown ups cry, and that Daddy is the saddest. It was a good opportunity to explain that letting ourselves feel this sadness is normal and will help us all to feel better over time. We told her how much we love her and that she is safe and nobody did anything to make this happen. 

Gabriela finally gave herself permission to be sad. And Easton, knowing his new job, came right up to his big sister to hug and  kiss her. She was angry that he didn't realize he would never know his baby sister. We will tell him all about it when he gets older, I said. 

She held him in her arms and, in a sweet big sister voice, asked if he knew what happened. She told him calmly and tenderly that baby sister died. Being two years old, Easton asked why. And she explained there was a problem with the umbilical cord, and then told him what that was. 

Lane and I told her it's okay not to feel sad all the time, and shared moments where we have felt happy in the last week. Of course, they all involved seeing our kids laughing, and being together as a family. 

That night, Gabriela cuddled with me and I felt like she gave me permission to come back into her world. This and seeing her open herself up to experiencing her grief gave me so much relief. It is the best and most hopeful I have felt since Simone's death. We are all  taking baby steps forward. 

These last few days

What's been extra hard these past few days is watching Gabriela try to navigate through her feelings about her baby sister's death.  Before Simone was born, all Gabriela talked about was her sister's arrival. She picked out clothes for Simone, wrote about her in her journal, drew pictures of her, read stories to my belly, sang to Simone every day so she would recognize her big sister's voice after she was born.  Every night when we got ready for bed, Gabriela asked if her sister would be born, and begged us to wake her so she could be there for the birth.  She was supposed to cut the umbilical cord, and was very proud to have agreed to this job. This loss is just so impossible for Lane and me to understand as adults, I can't begin to imagine how it must feel for Gabriela.

She doesn't want to talk about it.  Or, she will just say she's mad that Simone died.  She doesn't want to hear us talk about it, either.  It's so hard because I don't want to overdo it, smother her in Simone-ness, but I don't want to pretend this didn't happen to our family either. It must be heartbreaking and scary to see her parents so upset. We rarely ever cry and are usually very happy people.  Her whole world just turned completely upside down.  Poor baby girl.

Gabriela asked if she could accompany us to the funeral home the other day. I told her it would not be fun, and would be very sad.  She just asked if she would be able to see her baby sister again if she went. When I told her she wouldn't, she immediately said she wasn't interested anymore.  She asks why Simone died a lot, even has said it's Simone's fault.  I notice a difference in the way that she talks to me, and can't help but feel like she blames me and is angry with me for her baby sister's death and this tears me apart. Lane and I don't feel angry about what happened, at least not right now, but Gabriela certainly does.  I know this is normal, but it's still difficult to watch.

I know it's just the beginning, and have gotten some books, both for her directly, and also for us to help her through this.  I have felt ready to talk to her about a lot of things in life, but handling the death of her baby sister is something I never, ever have given any consideration to and now suddenly, it has to be my main concern.

It has been helpful to distract her with visits from cousins, playdates with friends, and fun family time. Just as much as we do, she needs to be surrounded by people who love her. During those times, she is so smiley and full of laughter that we all need to see. 
Easton, on the other hand, doesn't really understand what happened.  We have talked to him a little about how his Baby Sister isn't in mommy's tummy anymore, and how we are sad that she isn't here with us.  He says sweet things like, "Why tears are dropping down, Mommy?" "Baby sister came out. I saw pictures" And, he is incredibly aware of when we are feeling especially upset.  Easton immediately throws down his toys, or whatever he is busy with to give us these gigantic tight hugs and kisses.  It is just what we need.

This is going to be a long road for all of us, a balancing act between finding out what we need and what our children need, how to help them understand and cope, when we aren't quite sure how to do it for ourselves.  Thank goodness for the wonderful family and friends surrounding us.  We feel all your love and it is a great comfort to us.