Tuesday, April 26, 2011

The road less traveled by...

We celebrated Easter this weekend. 

Something felt like it was missing.

The sky was a brilliant blue, and the warmth of the sun was gratefully received as we trekked through the mountains playing Frisbee golf with four little boys...who aren't so little any more.   The Frisbee's were found in morning Easter Baskets with smiles of joy.  Four little baskets...and a fifth one...for our buttercup. 

I am the mother of five living sons.  I am the mother of twins...who are not.  I am the mother of a daughter...who I hope upon hope will be.  Four baskets...and a fifth.  The fifth contained a little white duck-platypus with a pink bow...a platy-puck.  Just like the purple and yellow one we bought two years ago...before.  Before.  It sat next to a tiny chocolate bunny.  The same kind as the white chocolate one we bought two years ago....before.  Before.    The basket was small.  Feminine.  It had a label..."To Princess Buttercup" 

I got out my memory box this morning.  I've been doing that a lot lately.  Tiny little hands and little feet captured in clay....perfect.  The same size as my daughter must be right now.   I read the little label from the Easter basket given...before.  Before.  "To our Sweet Baby Boy"  The white chocolate bunny looks exactly the same.  Amazing how long candy can last.  Preserved. 

Four baskets for my sons.  My eldest son was not expected.  His bi polar mania has stolen him again.  He isn't speaking to us.  Alienation. 

Manic energy and paranoia tells him that we are against him.  It tells him he is alone. That we are not to be trusted with his heart.  It warns him against the family that has loved him from the beginning and will love him till the end.  A missing Easter basket reminded me...that he was gone too.  Just like Simon and Alexander.  By choice. 

We trekked through the mountains, in awe of a bald eagle and an abundance of blue birds, hawks, and robins.  We felt the glow of sweat on our brows as we munched the innards of carefully painted eggs that once boasted the artistic endeavors of a family determined to live life to the fullest.  Bunnies, flowers, butterflies, dots, spirals, wavy lines...and even a lion.  The most beautiful eggs I've ever seen on an Easter day.   The colored shells littered the path behind us...to turn into the earthy soil of the wooded trail.  An egg I was holding was purple.  A beautiful purple.  With three yellow buttercups painted by the attentive hand of a sensitive boy-child...who remembers.  I put it back in my pocket.  I couldn't break it open.

This morning, I went to look for that egg, to take a picture of it.  But it was gone.  Someone must have eaten it.  I could see the fragments in the garbage.  Purple and yellow egg shells in little pieces.  Gone.  Like my twins.  Next to the purple and yellow were also fragments of a bright red egg...bright red...like the heated passion of bi-polar anger.  I dug up the fragments...separating them from freshly ground coffee remains and a crust of bread.  I carried them outside, and buried them in my garden.  Under the leaves of some buttercups that were emerging.  I sat there awhile, and while I sat, I felt the tears in my eyes as a butterfly landed on the spot of color those tiny buttercups offered. 

This road...the road of walking forward amist different forms of loss....

It is marked by tears and a love as bright as the colors of a rainbow...or an Easter egg. 

Friday, April 22, 2011

2 years ago...

Earth Day.  

This was the day.  The day you were born.  The day I died.  For the first time.  This was the day.

Your daddy thanked me today for giving you both to him.   He asked me to remember what a gift you are to us all.

I cried because I have so much pain about giving him dead babies.

I cried because I wish you were here with all my heart.  Two two year olds....two two year olds. 

I cried because I love our little buttercup rainbow baby whom I feel you protecting. 

And I'm afraid. Afraid I will lose her too.

Two years ago...

You were born.  And taken away. 

I never wanted to let you go. 

I still don't.

Happy birthday my sweet babies. 

Mommy misses you.

Oh how I miss you. I miss simply the dream of who you both might have been.  I miss you.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Mental Blooper and the Resulting Panic!

As many of you know, I am a completely anxious wreck. Not only am I doppler crazy and constantly worried that my baby girl is dead, I'm also hyper-vigilant. This morning, I was really tired after a ridiculous night of waking up crying out "HELP!" for no reason what so ever and then going upstairs around 3 A.M. to use the doppler (again) to just check on her heart beat...which I couldn't find for 15 minutes (PANIC) scared.gif...and then falling asleep with the doppler ON while listening to her so long that the battery wore out only to wake up to find a thin CRUSTY goo on my belly where the gel had solidified....I went to the bathroom to take a shower, and of course...to pee.

As is my usual paranoid routine, I sleepily glanced at the toilet paper...just to make sure.

And it was bright pink. jaw2.gif

I FREAKED out! Totally freeked. Jumped up from the toilet, and gasped at the bright fushia water. Oh god...I LOST it. Totally started sobbing. mecry.gif

And then....I remembered. And I felt like a total idiot. idea.gif

I made BORSCHT for dinner last night.

For those of you who don't know...borscht is a soup made primarily of BEETS, which will turn your pee and otherwise "refuse material" to all manner of pink and red! duh.gif

So...nothing wrong. Except that I'm completely batty. hide.gif

Oh...and my husband and I will be eating Borscht all week, because my kids thought it looked like a blood bath and refused to eat it, once one of them SAID it looked like blood, it was all over for the rest of them. It was amazingly good. For any of you who would like the recipe:

Butterfly Borscht:

3 large beets, chopped coarsely. (by hand or food processor...do not over process...you want small chunks.)
3 large carrots and leftover beet greens, pureed in 1 cup water.
1 large yellow onion, sauteed in olive oil till golden brown and slightly crispy brown on edges. (caramelize)
4-5 cups vegetable broth
sea salt and pepper to taste
4- 6 tablespoon balsamic vinegar (depending on personal preference)
1 small red cabbage, finely sliced into strips. (reserve)

Add beets, pureed greens and carrots, caramelized onions, veggi broth and sea salt/pepper to large pot and bring to a mild boil. Reduce immediately to a simmer. Cook while stirring occasionally for 15 minutes. Use a potato masher to correct any larger beet chunks a food processor might had missed. Don't over mash. Add the reserved shredded cabbage and balsamic vinegar and continue cooking till cabbage is soft, about 15 minutes. Add another cup of broth or water as desired for consistency. Serve with a dollop of organic sour cream and a sprinkle of green onion and a crusty loaf.


Just be forewarned. There will be evidence for DAYS...so don't freak out like I did. Sheepish.gif

Monday, April 11, 2011



It's April again.  Soon, I'll be confronting the two year anniversary since my world was turned upside down...never to be the same. 

My baby girl is nestled within.  Hopefully safe.  Hopefully alive.  I never really know.  I can barely feel her on rare and wonderful occasions.  Anterior placenta....it shields her movements.  A perfectly awful joke to a mom who is already anxious.  An Anterior placenta.  I can only know she is o.k. with a doppler.  A completely paradoxical joke for a mom who has always been hesitant to use ultrasound during pregnancy.  I can't know she is o.k. without it.  I can't really feel her and I can't hear her without technology. 

I really wish that wasn't the case.

I woke up this morning grabbing my belly, and wondered if it was too soft.  Wondered if maybe she was dead.  I didn't voice my feelings to my husband.  But...he was blue anyway.  Just randomly blue.  We've all had the flu, so, he's still getting over it.  We all are.  But unlike the rest of us sickies, he still had to trek off to work.  He missed 4 days already...4 days of lost pay.  Half of one of his paychecks.  He had to go. 

I reminded him that it was April.  I saw the tears well in his eyes for a moment.  And he nodded.

It's been two years.  People have been greeting our pregnancy with joy.  Some, because they know how much we want this baby.  Some, because they know they were completely unsupportive LAST time, and they feel like jerks.  Some...because we are finally having a girl.  Some....because of all three reasons.  And some...because they have also lost babies.  And they understand.  They get it. 

The latter group...they also know that it's not so simple as being pregnant.  They know it's not so simple as even having a healthy baby.  The loss...it ripples into life.  It becomes part of the landscape. 

I think I foolishly thought that being pregnant again would simply be joyful.

I AM joyful.  But...I'm also, unexpectedly, terrified.

I'm terrified of loss.  I'm terrified.

When I see my husband's tears, I beg the universe to spare him from more loss. 
When I watch my children tentatively glance at my blossoming belly, I remember how joyfully they embraced it the last time..when we were to have twins.....and I pray that they will never know loss again.
When I feel a sudden doubt, or fear...or, lets be honest...a total engulfment of terror...I know that we can't take it again.  That I can't take it again.

I need my little girl to be healthy.  To be whole.  To be....alive.

It is April.  The month that began our season of loss.  For it wasn't just a day.  It was a season.  An entire season of death. 

I can't wait for the end of summer. 

I wish I had a fast forward button.