Sunday, May 1, 2022

TIME


It is May first and it has been a very long time since I have made a visit here to this blog.  In these times there are just too many emails and passwords and losing things in this big information universe but today I found it, not sure how or why but there must be a reason. 

Last month it was 15 years.  I can't wrap my mind around it, the time has flown by but at the same time I feel like it has been a million years.  Some memories are blurry or have been packed away in files in my mind, there for safekeeping but to painful to replay.  When I do I feel like I will break into too many pieces and I will be lost forever.

I miss you, its been about 788400 minutes since I last got to see you and hold your hand, lay next to you and listen to you breath.   I still count.

When you left and it hurt too much, more than I thought I could bear someone said, "it will be a blink of an eye..." I think a few people said that.  It seems an odd thing to say and it didn't comfort me as much as I wished it could have, when you are grieving no words do, and if they come close they fade away. 

Those words are proving to be true, time has never gone by so fast, days feel like minutes, a year like weeks, and 15 of those years,  I can't even explain where they have gone.

Your brother is 22 now.  He has a job mostly to get him out of the house and with people again.  We have been in a pandemic for two years, some of that time locked down, it was surreal Stevie.  I may have done better with it just because I am use to being isolated but it took a terrible toll on your brothers, this family, and we were the lucky ones.

Your sister quit her job for couple months to come home, so we could all be together.  We shopped carefully, cooked, tried to make the best of it, tried to let it unite us, make it a time to learn and do things that we just never thought to do before.

I took the baby out of school, homeschooled him, what a disaster, I thought it would be for a couple months maximum but it just kept going and going and I never got better at it and he never took to online school.  He just went back last week, he has been out since March of 2020.  He is now home after five days because he got sick at school, we are waiting for his covid test to come back so he can return.  It is the last month of school, second and third grade just didn't happen for him, he is going to have to catch up.

Kids are terrible, they have been sitting in front of screens for a couple years and a lot of them are having a hard time being in class. 

I don't know when this thing is going to end.

I had to stop working so I could homeschool.  That was awful, it was something I loved so much and was doing well at.  I had a following, collectors, and I was making money of my own, it felt so good.  Sacrifices had to be made and that was one of them.  It has left me pretty depressed a lot of the time.

While all that was going on there were the biggest wild fires all over but especially here in California, I have never experienced anything like it.  We woke up one morning and the sky was deep orange and grey, the sun couldn't penetrate the smoke and debris.  It was apocalyptic, frightening.  It stayed like that too long, the air thick with smoke, ash on our cars, we had to wear dust masks to breath on some days. 

Oh, there is more...drought.   Mt. Shasta doesn't have all the snow it usually does, the lake is half empty, some lakes are dry, lawns are brown in many cities, there were brown here for a while, my guess is they will be again.  Little rain and rising temps (climate change) some wells have run dry, the reservoirs are not where they need to be. 

There was food hoarding, empty shelves, fear, politics... 

It might have been for the best I couldn't get into this blog.  It has not been a good five or six years for the world.

Now there is a war Russia trying to take Ukraine, they thought they could go in and snatch it up, blow up a few things, scare people and take what they wanted.  Never underestimate humans and a good leader.  The world is showing up, the US is pouring money into the fight.  Who knows what will happen, this could go on a very long time or if Putin can't handle the loss it might be the last war ever...  

The immediate worries are this war and what that may mean if it goes terribly wrong, China continuing its shut down because of Covid, this means supply chain issues, food prices getting higher, gas almost 6 dollars a gallon, the pandemic lingering and primaries coming up, the fear that the new Republican Party is going to find a way to keep people from voting fairly and if they lose again finding a loophole to force their way back into the presidency with a religious far right agenda.  We are also heading into an inflationary period.

It all sounds like a nightmare, one bad thing after another, and it has been quite scary.   

Good things...There were some good things.

I have a really awesome garden, learning to grow food.  We don't eat out much or at all so we have saved that money.  The extra money I made helped pay down our debt.  The boys and I had a couple nice trips.   I started running, never thought I could (long story for another post). 

I appreciate things I didn't before.   I value friends and family more than ever.  I have been trying to take better care of my heart and mind. 

Oh and I bought myself a crazy little vintage camper at the beginning of the shut down.  I felt like I needed to.  It was a good deal, it needed TLC but it is a solid little lady.  I spent a month fixing it up, I. kept the 1970's vibe, fresh coats of paint, personalized it, scrubbed and cleaned it, put in a new floor and I love it.  It is a spare room, a hide out, a play house, a get away if we ever need.   It does all the things it is suppose to and I love it.  

Your sister has found a nice apartment, had a bad break up, finished community college and applied to a four year to finish a degree in animation.  She is working hard.  I am proud of her, you would be too. 

There is so much to tell you.  Sometimes when I run I talk to you.  I put in an earbud and pretend I am on a call, in a way I am.  I cry a lot when do.  I feel like I need to apologize for being such a shit mom, selfish sometimes, hard on you sometimes, I let you down too many times.  I think if I would have done one thing different you would still be here.  I should have chosen a different doctor and said no to radiation.  That was in my power and I failed and I can't take it back.  

You should still be here. 

If I live to the average life expectancy of a female on this planet I have about twenty years left to live, assuming I don't get cancer, I am not in a plane or car crash or I don't get a bad case of COVID.   That isn't much time left.  E will only be 29, I may not see my grandchildren or watch my kids get married.   I can't think about that, I shouldn't but I do, about 3am I wake up sweaty and afraid that there is nothing after this, just nothing and there will be no you waiting for me at the end of some beautiful tunnel.  There will be no heaven, no homecoming, just nothing, and nothing. 

All this love I have for my kids, all our memories, even the sad ones all gone, meaning nothing. 

Fuck that is brutal and too hard to feel, it is torture. 

I try to focus on how big the tomatoes will be this summer, swimming, taking E to soccer, Aly graduating, your brother putting his new album out there in the world and it making magic happen.   I focus on losing this damn 27 pounds, running a 5k, traveling to someplace beautiful with your sister and brothers and find you there on a warm breeze. 

All this time and I still wish for you to wake me up and sit with me, tell me all about your heaven, tell me it will be ok. 

I miss you so very much, I miss everything you were, the you I never got to know, the you that I can't reach where ever you are. 

I only hope you can feel all the love I carry inside of me for you.  I don't forget, I keep you wrapped around me like a soft sweater.   You are in my heart, I have all the memories inside me.   Don't be too far away.

I love you,

mom


Monday, May 27, 2019

I didn't forget



When you left your body it was hard to leave the house, for nine days I felt you here in a painfully quiet way, it was like picking up the phone and knowing someone is there but not being able to hear them, you don't want to hang up and lose the connection in case you can't get it back again.

I had to drop people back off at the airport, buy food, drop Noah off at school.  I was stuck in time but the rest of the world refused to stop.  When I did leave home I said, "c'mon Stevie lets go".

I went to the cemetery every Thursday, I mostly napped on a blanket over you grave site.  I needed to be as close to your body as I could.  I hated that you were there, that this is what happened but I needed to find you, be close to you, everything hurt so much.

Then I went on the 19th of every month, I called it cemetery day.  I changed the flowers, I talked to you I would close my eyes and visualize you walking toward me wearing something pretty, bare feet, hair long again, a big smile.  I would be afraid to open my eyes and not see you or see you...I was just afraid.  I didn't want to stay here without you but I didn't want Noah and Aly to have anymore pain and loss.  I couldn't find a way through the grief, didn't know how I would survive, assumed my heart would just stop eventually, begged it to, it hurt too much.

Then I went on birthdays and holidays and anniversary day (April 19).  The connection to that place was less and less.  I didn't feel you there, it was just the place your body stayed, a body I imagined was slowly being taken back by the earth. 

I watched a movie, a story based on Wuthering heights and how Heathcliff digs up Catherines grave just to hold her bones.  It was meant to be a disturbing scene, showing how undone he is.  To me it was tender and I understood it.  He needed to touch her.  His heart hurt so much, he ached for her any part of her, to connect to keep her real.  Then he lay down next to her bones...I sobbed.

I wouldn't do that but I understood it.

I have your hair, before we cut it when chemo started, before it would fall out.  It is all I have of you, of your body.  I have your clothes but they don't smell like you anymore, they don't feel real.  Your hair, the color of it, the softness.  If I am having a day when some gate in me I keep locked opens up without warning and I am flooded with memories and loss, and the reality that eleven years have gone by since I have held your hand, heard your voice...I sit with your hair and feel all of it, I don't break but I am always worried I will so I struggle to close the gate again.

I still go to the cemetery on your birthday, your death anniversary, or sometimes if I am driving by that exit I will drive up that big hill, park, and sit with your body, be under that big sky with you, look at that lonely little house in the distance on that big hill and imagine winning the lottery.

If I won I would drive up that hill, offer who ever lived there all the money so I could live in that house.  I would buy a big telescope one of those romantic ones made out of brass, and I would look out and make sure you were ok. 

This blog saved me.

A lot of things did.

Writing here and in my journal kept me whole, all my pieced together, helped me grieve and say what was in my heart without worry that is would be too sad or too real for anyone else.

It helped me keep time, and let me escape a little.

It was my connection to you, still is.

I don't write here much, I still journal everyday but something is fading.

Time doesn't heal, it gives you distance, it helps you find ways to cope so you can shut that gate, keep everything safe inside so outside you can live, because you don't have a choice, you must.

There has been so much pain, but so much happiness.

I wouldn't call myself a happy person, my life has been hard, it has required me to replace happiness with strength so I could survive, but I do find happiness.

You brothers, your sister, art, writing, Hawaii.  That is my happiness.

Your dad and I still live in the same house but we shouldn't.  That part of my life is over but I can't start over because I never leave.  I am stuck here, I call it sacrifice but it is fear.  I am afraid that I will hurt everyone more if I change this, take away what is left.  This house, your room, the illusion of a normal family.  Instead there is resentment and arguments.  I do my best to grow to take care of myself, to create memories for your siblings but its...not real, not like it should be.  I just don't know what to do, how to change it.

This is the first year I didn't write to you when I usually do...

I am not letting go, I did not forget, I just didn't.

It is 3am.  Birds woke me up.  I have never heard spring birds making so much noise at this hour.  I couldn't sleep.  Then I felt this pull, to come here and tell you that I am still here, my heart is still full of you, I won't let this gate open, I don't want to cry and hurt I just want to talk to you and tell you how much I miss you and how so much has changed but really nothing has changed.

I am working again, making art, making babies, not sure how this happened but it did and I like it.  I am building a little business around an accidental hobby and it is nice.  I am on the arts commission for the city and I love it, not sure how that happened.

My studio is a little factory, it is my happy place.  I would love a real studio but the garage is beg and I have made it sweet and practical, there is room to work and escape, I am grateful for it.

We are tearing down the garden shed and making a new studio for your brother.  I am using the money you left.  I would love that to be my studio but he needs it more than me.  He works hard, he makes such beautiful music.  He spends so much time out there creating, he needs a place that makes sense.  When he grows up and flies away from here I will move in...maybe.

Your little brother is done with kindergarten this week, time is going by so fast.  He is so beautiful.  I thought I would do everything right with him, be the perfect mom, but I continue to make all the same mistakes.  I let him eat cheeseburgers, he plays minecraft, he sleeps in my bed right next to me like all of you did and I know most people think kids need to be in their own bed, door closed, lights out but I have never understood that.  I love falling asleep talking about the day, planning tomorrow, telling stories, laughing, singing.  I love listening to him breath, being here if he is sick or has a bad dream.  I feel like I am keeping him safe.   One day he will be shaving and tall and have his own apartment.  I will be old a long for a visit or a phone call...today I have a skinny little six year old who just loves to cuddle, who wakes up in the morning happy to see me, happy to start the day and I don't want to waste a second of it.

Your sister moved, shares a cool house with room mates.  She hikes and bikes and works hard.  She is a beautiful person.  We don't always get a long but we love each other and we both keep this family a family.  She is funny, smart, talented.  She has the same job she always has. I can't believe she will be 34 this year. 

Time is an odd thing, it speeds up in strange places and slows down when you least want it to.

I am getting older Stevie.  I have not come to terms with that.  I don't look in the mirror often, that person is a stranger to me.  Inside I am 35, just myself but in the mirror I am 53, I have wrinkles and grey hair I have to color.  My eyelids are heavy, my body and hands look like they belong to someone else.  I lost a lot of weight last year but it is trying to return.  I am told that at this age it is natural for a woman's body to fill out into its soft granny curves.  As estrogen leaves your body reacts by holding on to fat in all the places you least want it to.  I don't care much about how I look, I just want to stay healthy, I want to live a long time.

I know I have said that I needed this life to be done so I could be with you but I now feel this urgency to get things done, to be something other than what I have been, to do something more, to be my real self.  I feel like I have been sleep walking and just woke up, all this time has passed and I don't want anymore to pass without being really awake.

I wasted so many years feeling...not like me.

I don't know what is after all this but if you are there on the other side I imagine you happy and not in a big hurry to see me.  Maybe you don't even remember me.  Maybe there is no memory not like here.  That would be hell for me but a blessing for a lot of people. 

Oh let there be a "heaven" and when this is over you are who I want to see first, however you can find me, I will know you, I will not forget, not if I live a million years.

I won't forget.

Tuesday, December 25, 2018

CHRISTMAS

The rain is coming down I can hear it loud on the metal roof of the sunroom.  Every one is in bed, the only light is coming from the Christmas tree and the garland around the fireplace.  This years tree is all coral pinks, I have so many of your ornaments on the tree this year; mermaids, a kitty, glass angels...it is a pretty tree.

We have a dog now, a giant puppy, his name is Theo, he is a golden-doodle.  I am not dog people Stevie but Elliott needed a buddy, he loves animals so much and it was the right choice for him, the two of them are the best of friends, loud, messy, always wrestling best friends.  He is a great dog, smart, affectionate always smiling ( I didn't know dogs could smile).

Elliott lost his two front teeth and he is adorable, his new teeth are starting to come down, they are big, he will have a beautiful smile, he is so damn handsome.

Noah cut off his rock-star hair, it was his idea, he wanted to but I don't think he realized how much of his identity was wrapped up in that look he created for himself on television.  He is going to grow it long and curly, I think he will be even more beautiful.  He wrote a new album, it is gorgeous, I hope a million people get to hear it and fall in love with it.

I didn't bring you your flowers they are still in my car.  I hate seeing them there because I feel like you think I forgot about you and I didn't.  You were in my dreams last night, you were getting ready to go somewhere, you were in high school, I was helping you with make up and you were having some struggles.  You spoke to me telepathically and said, "see this is how it would be, it would be so hard" and I said, "I don't care, I love you, you are perfect, it isn't hard, it was never hard".  When I realized I was dreaming I woke up.

This has been a good year, it wasn't always easy and I had to walk across fire a little but I know how blessed I am and good things happened inside me and all around me.  I felt you with me, I always do.

I have to put presents out, play Santa and every year you are not here it feels so wrong...your stocking isn't hanging there, there is an N, an E and an A but no S and there should be.  I hate it and some big awful space opens up inside me and swallows me. 

I am sitting here inside out, missing you.

I will be ok, that is what I do, I pretend I am ok and I live and thrive, and work, and stay busy and when it's quiet I sit here and think, and cry, and miss you.

I have not forgotten, I did not move on without you, I take you with me, you are always with me.

I get older Stevie and there are more years behind me than in front of me now and it frightens me.  I don't want to be old and invisible, I don't want to fall apart and get sick, I don't want to be all alone with memories and dusty furniture.  The silver lining is that I am that much closer to being where you are and I imagine us sitting on a beach or on a hill top covered in red poppies and we are laughing and sharing stories, our earthly bodies gone replaced by what ever "skin" we had before.

Until then I am here wrapping presents, paying bills, building a business, making art, cooking dinner, replacing tiny teeth with little gifts and coins.

I need you to find me tonight I need to know you are ok, that is all I want for Christmas, is for you to come to me just the way you are and say to me in that whispery voice of yours "Hey mom it's ok, I am here and I am happy, I am ok, I will see you later".

The rain is slowing down, it is getting late, I am so very tired and your sister who is 33 will be the first one up in the morning, she still loves Christmas and she gives the best presents.

I love you sweet pea, more than all the starts in the sky.

Mom




Sunday, September 23, 2018

It's September...

Hey sweet girl, its a sunny and warm Sunday afternoon.  Your dad is putting up sheetrock for a wall, Noah is relaxing on the trampoline, trying to get a little sun.  You little brother is playing with his dog Theo and your sister is on her way over to pick up her bike.

We went to the Sonoma coast for Elliotts birthday.  He asked for the forest and the beach and I found Gerstle campground at Salt Point.  It was breath taking, you would have loved all of it and few times I felt you there in the morning mist, looking out over the cliffs, walking the trails through the trees.

We all got along ok.  Dad and I will never really get along, I understand that, just wish I could be the bigger person.  We did our best for Elliott and he seemed pretty happy to do legos at the pic-nic table, hike, be filthy, sleep under the stars, pee outside.  He is a lonely kid, I feel bad, he has older siblings, old parents, and no one his age around here to play with. 

He is getting so big, so beautiful, and so smart. 

Aly is starting work in Oakland soon, she is excited, it will be a longer commute but she likes the idea of this new art department.  Your brother is writing music and blowing my mind.  I am making babies again.  I didn't think I would after I got back from LA with Noah but I told myself, "Just finish up with what you have and move on to the next thing when you are done".  Here I am a couple months later and I have invested in even more supplies and I am marketing to the film industry.  I have had a couple babies in movies and it feels pretty cool.   It isn't what I thought I would be doing with my life but it makes sense in some weird way and it isn't all I plan to do, but I love it, I am good at it and the money is good so I will continue and wee where it goes.

I am suppose to drive out to the cemetery today to bring you fruit and new flowers.  I picked fall dusty corals...peony, hydrangea, ivory pussy willow and some greens, its a really pretty combination.  I have no idea if you would like it or not.  I can't even imagine what you would be like now, would you be stressed out about being in your "thirties" would you be off on adventures, would you be a homebody and sitting on the sofa knitting and watching something cool on TV...

I went to the store to buy the flowers, I go there often for emergency art supplies and it never bothers me really, I just go in, get what I need and leave but today I had a flashback to the day I went there to get ribbon for the book marks I made for your funeral.  They were simple, a little photo of you and the words "Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in" lyrics from a Postal Service song you loved.  I remember feeling so sick and sad and hating that day, hating that you were not with me, that I would never see you again, that you had died and I couldn't do anything but buy ribbon.  I broke down at the cash register, the woman didn't know what to say or do so she didn't say or do anything.

I sat in the car and sobbed...fast forward to today and it all came back, it was like a tidal wave.  I was not warned, I had no idea, one minute I was looking for the right shade of coral ribbon, the next I was sitting on the floor tears streaming down my cheeks trying to remind myself to breath and telling myself to get the hell out of the there.  I held it together, got in the car and just ugly cried until I couldn't anymore. 

I needed it, I needed to feel it, feel you, remember but damn it hurt.  Thank God(ess) my mind knows how to activate "survival mode" because if I felt that intensity of pain everyday I would die. 

I just miss you, I miss all of it, even the awful stuff.  I know that sounds bad but I do.  I would give anything to have one more day...  What if heaven could send you home for 24 hours, healthy, whole, and you.  We would all know we only had 24 hours.  We would take you were ever you wanted to go, do what ever you asked to do and I would ask you so many questions, keep them short so your answers could be long an detailed.    I would smell your hair, kiss your lips and cheeks, hold your soft hands, rub your feet, listen to your music with you. 

That all I need.  I want a million more of those days but if I could just have one it would change everything.  We all need that with you, to know you are ok, to let you know how loved your are.

What I get instead is the quiet, in that I try to feel your energy, will all my love out into everything and hope it finds you and rains down on like your like soft petals and warm kisses.

I wish I was baking you a cake, I wish I was wrapping some jokey present, I wish, I wish, I wish...

All I can do is love you like this, miss you on your birthday, and try to live my best life and hold onto hope that one day I will close my eyes only to open them and find myself where you are and it will all make perfect sense.

Happy birthday my love, we love you so very much.

Stay close my little bunny,
mama



Friday, April 27, 2018

Stevie,

I am late with this post, to make up for it I have been busy posting things here on the blog today.  I wrote a poem, not a very good one but my heart was all in.  I found a draft I wrote maybe a month ago and decided not to be afraid and pushed the "publish" button before I changed my mind.

The boys and I went to the cemetery on the 19th.  I brought yellow tulips and red Iceland poppies.  Dad went earlier in the day and brought fruit.  Elliott picked out a little cactus in a white ceramic cup, it made me smile, he never met you but he feels like he knows you and the cactus was perfect.

It was a pretty day, the grass was green the view of Mt.Diablo was breathtaking.  There is a big hill in the distance that you can see just beyond the big oak tree, it has a little house tucked away in it, it looks like heaven, I told myself, one day I want to live there.  I would buy a telescope, one of those big brass ones you might find in a light house.  Everyday I would make sure your body was safe, I would watch the deer graze around you, know when it was time to swap out faded flowers...

It's spring again and the one pink tulip that keeps arriving every spring since you died showed up with four siblings; You, Aly, Noah, Claire, Elliott.   I find meaning in odd things.  I built a brick pizza oven all by myself, if you were here I think you would love it, actually would have been your idea before mine.  The gardens are doing their thing, I'm not planting too much this year just keeping it simple, tomatoes, basil, all the herbs, tomatillo, a couple peppers. 

I miss you most in the spring.

I am making art again, pulled out the clay and dusted off the kiln, I have a lot of projects that distract me and a lot of distractions that keep me from projects.  It's just busy, school is almost out, your brother is graduating and Elliott will start Kindergarten in the fall...how did this happen?

If you walked in the door right now we would lay on the grass under this warm sun, I would make you all your favorite things to eat, we would take off our shoes and never put them back on, we would drain the bank account and go to Spain and Italy and France, and Thailand (because you would want to).  We would just bring a backpack and a jacket.  We would live on fruit and art, pizza, pasta, chocolate crepes, books, sleep on beaches and in parks and in hotels made out of stone and wood. 

Noah could sing for money, I would wash our clothes in hotel sinks and dry them on balconies.  We would stay up late look at the stars, laugh, cry, and sleep when we just couldn't keep our eyes open anymore.

I wish you could tell me what heaven is like...

We miss you so much sweet girl, so very much.

This is going to be a magical year, I know it.  Stay close.

I love you

mama


Eleven

eleven in the morning
eleven
eleven
eleven years
since I kissed those lips
since I heard your voice
since I smelled your hair
since I held your hand
eleven
the song I use to sing
to wake you up
it was awful
it worked
eleven
I sing it sometimes
to see if I can wake you up now
bring you home
or maybe just so you can hear it
where ever you are
and know I am still here
eleven years later
in the same room
the moon coming in through the window
the pink tulips in the garden
the cherry tree gone
died when you left
eleven
I can't even imagine
how the time has gone by
how I have lived without you
how I can't seem to find you
eleven in the morning
eleven
eleven
when I kissed you good bye
for the very last time
when your last breath left
those beautiful lips
when touched your head
bald and soft
when I let go of your hand
still warm, still mine
eleven

Dark

I have been keeping this blog since September of 2007, the year my daughter died.  I started writing right before her birthday, the first one without her here.  I was doing my best to find ways to breath and live, to love and be present for my son and daughter who were hurting and were afraid I was going to disappear.  I was swimming underwater looking for the place I could come up for air.

There were a lot of reasons for writing, for me its like meditation, a prayer, a secret friend.  Writing here also feels like keeping record, making sure it all stays real and she isn't forgotten, none of this is..   I may have also secretly thought that someone else would find this blog by accident, someone who needed it.

I have written mostly about missing my daughter, about how the earth keeps turning, the sun comes up and goes down and what we do in between.  I don't write it all, I can't but I offer a glimpse I think.

I have written about my broken heart, written little letters to Stevie, updates about life...

-not sure that I have written about the dark-side, not really.

Not as honestly as I should have.

When this death thing happens and mother loses her daughter, something breaks, its a fracture in your soul.  It can't be repaired, you don't try because there is something sacred in that broken place, it has to be seen, felt, remembered, honored.  You might be able to use string and tape to hold the rest of you and your life together if you are lucky but this tear in you is a part of you forever.

I am still me,  not the same me, that person left with my daughter.  I sent that me off to be a ghost in the place Stevie is now.  The me that is here is a different kind of ghost.  There are dishes to be washed, piles of laundry to be folded, kids to take to school, bills to pay, put a stamp on, and take to the post office.  Meals need to be planned, shopped for, and cooked, gardens need to be planted, cars to be repaired, dentist appointments to keep...I have purchased three vacuum cleaners, a washer and dryer, two refrigerators and a two stoves.    I just got a new car,  put in new kitchen cabinets, opened and closed a business, had a child, laid a bamboo floor, built a porch, I buried two parents, a grandmother, an uncle and a best friend.  I have been to three therapist, visited Paris and Italy, cried on a beach in Hawaii where I lived when I was two.  I gained 50 pounds, lost 40 pounds, and I contemplated killing myself several times.

Life does go on after loss but not always.

It took three therapists to convince me I was strong, exceptionally strong, and one man to convince me I wasn't.

It took a little boy with big blue eyes and a heart bigger than the universe to save me, and baby with dimples in his shoulders to convince me I deserved saving.

There have been a lot of tears, and I don't mean the kind that roll down your cheeks when you watch a sad movie I mean the kind of tears that dry up before you are done crying because there are just no more tears left, but still it hurts.

When Stevie left I had all her medications including oral chemo in a zip lock bag in her closet.  That bag was my escape hatch.  My plan was to make sure she was honored and buried properly, make sure Noah and Aly had what they needed, make sure the bills were paid we were not in debt, the house was clean, things repaired that needed repairing.  I would wait to be alone, lay in Stevie's bed, take the pills and go to sleep, hopefully wake up where she was.

That is really hard to read and it was even harder to write.

I didn't want her to be alone.  I didn't want to be here without her.  It was that simple.

Everyday I was distracted by something that had to get done before I left.

Every night Noah snuggled up in Stevie's bed with me and held my hand and told me beautiful stories, told me he loved me.  He was afraid I was slipping away and he was holding on to me, he never let go, he waited for me to feel love again, to trust it, and he wasn't letting go until it happened.

There would be so many days that I just couldn't imagine living through.  I felt very alone.  My relationship with my husband had long since crumbled and he was grieving in his way, I was grieving in mine.  We both stayed distracted but there was fall out and ugly nights fighting.  I needed something he could not give me, a reason to believe that things were going to get better and be ok, someone to keep me safe, someone to walk through this hell next to me.   Instead he said hurtful things and made me feel like a failure for not putting my energy into him, for not melting into him and making him the center of my life, for not being needy in the right way, not making sure his needs were met,  and not trying repairing our relationship so he could heal.  I couldn't I didn't feel anything anymore except sad and alone I guess.

A year after Stevie left I woke up feeling something that I hadn't felt in a long time, a calling.  I am not religious, and it wasn't God, it was a child.  I had this "feeling" with all of my kids, I knew it was time for my child to come home.  It isn't something that's easy to describe.  Some people call it "brooding" ( I was already an older mom when I had Noah)  most women my age were beginning to go through menopause, counting down the days until kids are off to college, but I heard a call  It wasn't practical, it was odd timing but it was strong and could not be ignored.

I focussed a lot of my energy on the prospect of having a baby, I thought about it,  worried about it, tried to talk myself out of it, but it was bigger and stronger than me.  Part of me thought I could bring Stevie back...Like I said I am not a religious person but I had always had a strong personal relationship with my God, for me that "God" was always so much bigger than any organized religion would let it be.  After Stevie died I was really angry at a God who would let a child suffer and die like that and I questioned everything I ever believed.  Some mornings I woke up with clarity and some nights I went to bed feeling very lost and alone.  Now I felt like I was being asked to do something that was going to push me hard again, force me to show up strong, I was afraid but I was also filled with hope and love.

It was even more difficult than I thought it would be.  I was blessed (or cursed) with some crazy genetics that had me ovulating regularly and in possession of decent supply of eggs that should have been dwindled away.  The doctors I went to explained that statistically a natural pregnancy shouldn't happen and woudn't without medical and technical intervention, they recommended IVF, not something my insurance would pay for or that we had the resources for.

Steve was sure I had lost my mind but when he found out the odds of it working (terrible, something like a 2% chance)  he relaxed, played the good-guy and showed up in a nice way which surprised me. He thought that this could be a way for him and I to find a way to re-connect.  He would look like the awesome husband willing to give his wife what she needed but the odds of it actually happening meant there be no baby so it was a win-win.  He would reveal this to me later and it would actually cause more damage to an already very fragile situation. 

I would be using a cryo-sperm donor because my husband had a vasectomy (something he chose to do against my wishes when Noah was 6 weeks old) so that further decreased my odds a lot.  Choosing a sperm donor from a catalog is surreal. I wasn't looking for a designer baby but I did want a donor that did not have a family history of Cancer or any serious genetic diseases.  I tried to choose a donor that physically might be a match so my kids would look related but  physical appearance wasn't high on my priority list.  Every month I went in, collected my sample and had a doctor introduce it into my uterus.  There is a long process that is hit and miss leading up to this appointment that involves charts and tests and injections.    My husband went for my first IUI and he does get points for that no matter what his motives were.  That day felt like some kind of creepy dream, it felt wrong on so many levels.   I spent a year in tears, every month a negative result but I  was just more determined with the next cycle,  I wasn't giving up.

I learned about embryo donation.  It felt like the heavens opening up, I just had to find a clinic and a doctor that could help me, and I did, it wasn't easy.  This is where my husband got angry and bailed.

I  took a break, decided to find a really good therapist to convince me I was acting irrationally, to point out all the things I wasn't seeing or that I was ignoring, to tell me I had some kind of post loss mental illness, to give me medication.    What I discovered was that I was going through something very common for women after the loss of a child, it was a biological need, I was taking care of my heart and mind in a very natural way.

I moved forward on my own, when I felt sure, when I understood that hope is as healing if not more healing that anything else.  My heart wanted to believe that good things could still happen, that I could open a window for Stevie if she wanted to try this all again, that I wasn't crazy because I needed to love like that again. After months of  insurance craziness, injections, scans, long drives, a waiting list, tears and frustration...

 I became pregnant.

 I threw away the zip lock bag of chemo and medications after I hit my second trimester.

Halfway through my pregnancy we discovered through an ultrasound that my little girl did not have kidneys and she was dying.  She had no amniotic fluid so she was being crushed by the weight of my body.  I chose to deliver her early.  After 12 hours of hard labor (in the same hospital where Stevie died) with a fever of 105 caused by a rare reaction to the drug they used to induced me, with  my body packed in ice, I delivered her.

I spent all day and night in labor and delivery alone.  I needed to do this by myself.  I didn't want to put anyone else through more pain.  My husband could not be available for me the way I needed so I had to take care of myself.

I felt that broken place inside me open a little more it went deeper and farther now.  I felt like I would be swallowed up and I was.

When I held little Claire in my hands all I could see was her beauty, she was perfection to me and I felt like this had to happen, she needed a mama to love her for 19 weeks, I needed to learn something and we both showed up for each other.   I also felt like I understood, really understood that things happen for reasons that I will never understand, can never explain and that I was part of a thing already set in motion, God wasn't punishing anyone, and that I was not a the child of God I was God, and  I was Stevie and Claire, and sunlight and an ocean.  I was a tiny star in a vast universe, I was a blood cell, I was a thought, a dream, the electrical impulse that sends pain or pleasure from one part of a body to the next, the energy in every lightning bolt, I was a grain of sand, a planet, I was everything, I was so small you couldn't see me with a microscope and too big too see at the same time.   A fever of 105 will do this to you.  I won't ever forget it.

I was split wide open with loss but also with understanding.

I kissed her little feet and her head the size of a lemon, inhaled her and thanked her, told her I loved her.  Then the most unexpected thing happened.  I knew I wasn't done, that I had to endure this to get to the next place and my child was coming, I just had to do this first.  I wasn't afraid.

Someone told me after I came home from the hospital that the universe was telling me "No" and I had to listen.  My reply was,  "The universe is simply asking me how badly I want this, miracles take participation and I am all in".

At the same mortuary where Stevie's body was taken to from the Hospital in April,  I sat in a parking lot once again, a tiny box of ashes in my hands.  My husband explained that  I didn't lose a child, I lost a pregnancy and all though that was loss, it wasn't the same thing.  He told me if I tried again he would leave me.

Back to therapy.

I made the decision to try again.  It wasn't a secret plan, I hid nothing, I just did it alone.  I knew that he would leave and I was fine with that.  I think he thought the threat would frighten me, it always had in the past but not this time.  My marriage may be over but I made a promise to this child and I intended to keep it.

Same embryos and on Claire's original due date I was in the hospital, draped, bladder full, tests done, waiting as the embryologist asked me my full name and birth date.  The nurse scanned my abdomen, the reproductive endocrinologist gently saying kind things to me as he placed the embryo's into my uterus.

I was given five embryos from an anonymous donor.  The first two resulted in Claire.  After consulting with a genetic councilor we determined that what had happened was a fluke or genetic and they couldn't tell me which.  The fact that none of the other babies born from these embryos died this way gave hope it was a fluke and most likely would not happen again but there was no guarantee.

A month before transfer I panicked and asked for different embryos, but the night before I felt sick about it.  I promised those little cell clusters that I would give them a chance if they wanted it, told them I would love them and give them a warm place to grow.  I know, I know, it sounds crazy but they were my embryos, my responsibility.

On transfer day I asked about the embryos I was getting.  The nurse told me " the same the same embryos, yours"   It seems the note that was suppose to go on my chart never got there so no new embryos were found for me.  I smiled, it felt right, my journey was with these little guys.

I took myself to lunch after the procedure, then went to work, then home and waited, pregnancy tests all came back negative day after day.  I tried to cancel my clinic blood draw, I didn't want them to to tell me I wasn't pregnant, it would hurt more.  They told me they couldn't withdraw the progesterone until they documented a negative pregnancy test so I drove out to the hospital on a winter day, through the tunnel, through the neighborhood with the beautiful craftsmen houses I loved, to Stevie's favorite city.  I had given up, not in an awful way, I had just accepted that I did the best I could do and that at some point I had to be done.  That day was my done day, I knew I would be ok.  I gave it all I had, worked hard, showed up, pushed, fought, cried, begged, prayed, used up all my resources.

That afternoon about 3-4 o'clock I went to the restroom, my last pregnancy test was on the counter.  I used it thinking "this is the last time I will ever have to do this".  I was just about to toss it in the trash when I though I noticed the faintest shade of pink, the kind of pink they might call blush, the kind of pink that you almost imagine... then the phone rang.  I had an HCG of 8.  I was technically pregnant but that number should have been a whole lot higher.

The nurses at this point knew me well.  They hurt for me when I lost Claire and I told them this was my last try.  They knew about Stevie and they were rooting for me.  The nurse who gave me the number 8 said, "its 8, don't give up, not yet it's still early".

Every two day I made the long drive  for another blood test, I watched the numbers double and triple. At six weeks a scan showed a very tiny pregnancy, I wasn't out of the woods yet but there was a heartbeat.  Every week that little heart got stronger and my baby got bigger and I knew I was right where I needed to be.

My pregnancy should have been beautiful and it was because I was happy but at home things were hard.  My husband was angry, he went out of his way to let me know this daily.  He called me selfish, he told me my friends were not really supportive that they felt pity, he told me I should be embarrassed.  He kept my pregnancy a secret from everyone he knew including his family.  I wouldn't let him crush me but it did create way too much stress, more than I needed.  I did my best to find ways to be away from him and alone so I could sing and talk to my baby like I did with my older kids.

Some days I asked the universe why it all had to be so hard, why it couldn't be just a little easier, and on other days I asked the universe what I did to deserve such amazing children, why it chose me to trust with such extraordinary humans and I said thank you a million times.

Half way through my pregnancy I took myself to the perinatologist.  Noah ordered a brother, I simply hoped for two kidneys, even one kidney...I got a little boy with two beautiful kidneys.  Noah got a blue cupcake.

On the 19th of September after the sky turned pink, in the same hospital I lost Stevie and Claire, a month before my due date,  I gave birth to my baby.

Steve was there to support the kids but not for me, he slept through my labor that went on all night.  A failed epidural meant a painful delivery and cement leg.  My little guy was early, small, healthy, but needed to go to the nursery for four hours.  I was a fall risk so I couldn't go.  Steve was the only one who could go because legally he was the babies "father".

Ironically he bonded with that little guy and has loved him deeply since.

Was that happily ever after?  No.

The dark and twisty still finds me.  I am brought to my knees while doing dishes.  I have to pull my car over to the side of the road to sob and scream.  I go for walks early in the morning unable to breathe as the sky changes color.  There are days I still can't make sense of any of it.  Everyday I miss her and I live in that abyss that was created when she left.

But I live in layers.  I have My sons who make me so incredibly happy, I have Aly who had become not just my daughter but my friend and we have become a lot more close.   I have friends who never felt sorry for me more than they felt in awe of my strength and bravery and its a struggle to allow myself to believe that sometimes.

My husband never left, he was never going to leave but he is the kind of man who needs a wife that would be afraid he would, he is the kind of person who needs to feel that kind of power over another person and I found a way to not be that person anymore.

I don't love him.  I care about him as the father of my children and we have a long history together but that is all.  There are days he gets it but most days he pretends that things are the same as they always were and sometimes they feel that way and I don't like it.

We share this house but we don't share a life together, not really, and we never really have.  I am lonely and missing having a "person" to be a grown old with, to talk and share and be happy with, someone I can trust, someone I can lean on and tell secrets to.  I ache to be with someone that I feel an equal, loving and romantic connection with.

That tear in my soul is still there, but I have filled it with gold like a kintsugi bowl.  That rip in me is treasured because it means I loved that much, was loved that much, nothing else can rip you open like that.

Time goes by like it will and I just live the day, do the best I can, honor pain, welcome joy, and love my kids.  Eleven years its hard to believe, hard to wrap myself around.  But here I am and it isn't as dark as it was eleven years ago.