Six

Stevie,

The sky is barely turning from night to morning but there seem to be a thousand birds chatting away in all the trees in our neighborhood, they woke me up, they know that today is the 19th, at least that is what it feels like.

I am remembering without effort your last day here with us in your body.  I usually slip easily into that memory, it is strong and vivid and it feels like pulling out stitches, this wound never heals, this broken place can not be repaired, it never will be but today I won't go there even though I have permission to, I won't, I can't.

There has to be a  new way to connect to you on this day, I need to find a way to celebrate instead of grieve,  I have to learn to honor you and I can not do that drowning in tears.  It's not fair to you that what hold close is the loss of you and not the beauty of the time you got to be here, all the smiles, and belly laughs, the tender late night talks, the sound of you moving through this house and your voice over the phone, your hand in mine as we drove to the next place.

You were and still are my person, my companion in this life.  I  believe we all get one true love and I was raised to believe the person who would capture my heart, save me, teach me, complete me would be a man, that romantic love was what I needed to be whole.  It isn't never was, it was you.  The love a mother feels for her child is the deepest place she will ever go, it is the highest mountain she will ever climb, it is the hardest work she will ever do, it is the easiest love she will ever experience.

When you and your sister and brothers were born something happened I can not explain it's like I fell open, parts of me were exposed, I was vulnerable, I could hide nothing.  I had to navigate differently in this world, feel things in a very different way.  All of you helped me grow, taught me life lessons that I could not have learned any other way.

When you were born I knew, I always knew...there was something different.  You were me, I was you but we our own worlds too.  You were aways so far ahead of me, you needed me, but I needed you more.  You were brave in all the places I was most afraid  You were always smarter and stronger, stubborn, and damn it you were always right and sometimes I hated that.  The thing I loved most was that you chose me, and let me love you and to this day I don't know why, you deserved so much more.

I loved waking up knowing you were in this world, I loved arguing with you, I loved sitting next to you and I loved it when you wanted me to go away at that concert in Berkeley.  I gave you space but I watched you from the balcony always protecting you but filled with pride as you swayed to the music, danced and fell in love with boys who played the piano like rock stars.

You filled my life with moments I want back, I want to live them over and over...

Where are you now Stevie?  I will make my way to the cemetery to be close to your body but where are you now?

Do you miss us like we miss you?  I pray that you are so happy, so busy, (maybe even living again in a new body) that you don't have time to miss us, we are a fuzzy memory.  I am selfish and sometimes I want to believe that you never left that you are here with us waiting and guiding us, and we will all go to heaven together.  Last year I thought maybe I could bring you home...

How can it be six years sweet girl?  I don't know how we got here, how we survived.  I am living in a world that doesn't know you.  You have a little brother who will never finger paint with you or play Guess Who.  You will never see the new kitchen, we have new Christmas decorations, and you never got to see Tangerine.  New cousins have been born, I have new friends you never got a chance to hate.  Ben brought back the Postal Service for a concert, Andrew got married after his cancer got it's ass kicked.  Our town looks different, new places to eat you would have loved.

People ask me how many kids I have...I say four ( I don't count Claire which feels wrong but she was never a child here on earth, only in my body and heart) then I have to try and explain that you are no longer here without making it sad, without seeming like I am trying to get sympathy, your death is not my calling card, being your mother is, and I am so grateful and proud.  I say I have a 27 year old my youngest daughter would be 25, my son is 13 and my baby boy is 7 months old.  I don't like to think of you as 25, in my heart you are 19, always 19.

Stevie I wish you were here, I wish you were in this bed, in this room, sleeping in until 10, I wish you had plans for the day that did not include me, that you were busy with your friends, school, work, a life you had created for yourself.  I would get a few minutes with you as you made coffee, cut up some fruit,  I would love to listen to you and your brother talk about music, you and your sister fight over who gets the shower first, watch you kiss Elliott (he would love your face).  I want to live in a world with you in it.

Today I will fight the memory of your last moments here and instead I will imagine that you are visiting from heaven and I will talk to you, share all the love I have for you, make you a part of this day in a good and positive way.

Baby girl my sweet little bunny, my friend, my daughter, my teacher, my heart, thank you, thank you for being in my life, for choosing me, for giving to me all you did, for sharing with me all your secrets, for loving me so well, for letting me love you and forgiving me when I did things wrong, for liking me anyway.

Thank you for 19 of the best years of my life...

Wait for us in heaven, be happy baby, be happy.

We are Ok Stevie, we are Ok.

I love you so very much,  "I Love you the whole world"

-mama

April

I am sitting on Stevie's bed which is the place Elliott and I share now, we have turned it into our little nursing nest.  This room still smells like Stevie but little by little it is changing.  There is a mobile of brightly colored baby dragons hanging from the ceiling, a wall shelf with red gnome, a firetruck and a little hand stitched monkey sitting next to a well worn teddy bear that we bought for Stevie who passed it to Noah who gave it to Elliott.  There are baby boy clothes hanging in the closet from little green hangers, two baskets filled with cardboard books, and a small crib in the corner filled with colorful toys and soft blankets.

This life of mine is morphing, all the familiar things are blending with new experiences that remind me of everything that came before.   I am paint mixing, tides moving in and out, time passing, a loop of memory that plays around and around.  I am seasons, cycles, time that is passing.

I am awake at two in the morning with a song playing in my head, a song I can not name but it belongs to Stevie.  I am remembering those last days because the sky is the same blue, the trees are full of leaves, the air smells the same as it did that April she left.

I have not been to the cemetery since, well it had to have been right before Elliott was born.  This is the longest I have gone and I feel it, it hurts, it feels like a broken promise.  The baby hates the car unless I am in the back with him, where he can see me, still he will only ride in that big car seat for a short amount of time.  That is my excuse.  The reality is that I am busy with a new baby, all of Noah's activities, life...

I ache to go and bring her new flowers, sit and talk, lay down on that thick grass under the sun and fall asleep in a forever sleeping place.  I am also afraid of it, afraid of falling down a rabbit hole where are that pain and memory is.  I love my girl and I wrap her around me like a blanket everyday of my life but I am so afraid of falling into a sad place I won't be able to get up from, my tough places have been softened by baby kisses wiggly toes.

April is hard, spring has all these beginnings, she went to sleep when everything was waking up, all her favorite things.

I am feeling sorry for myself this morning, sitting in the dark wondering what I could have done to save her, wishing I would have done a million things differently, said more, given more, been smarter, braver...wishing I could have been more for her.  I don't need to go to the cemetery, that rabbit hole has found me at two in the morning.

Noah and I were eating lunch outside yesterday and we both agreed that we wished there was a God, wished even more that there was a heaven.  We both didn't want to believe in a biblical God, someone that was too much like us, like a dad or a president.  We wished for a God that was more like stars and magic and love.

Since I am indulging myself in dark thoughts and self pity, since I am allowing myself to grieve I will say out loud that when Stevie left I needed to leave too.  I wished for my life to be over, I needed to be with her, I didn't want her to be alone and I couldn't imagine being her without her.  I feel differently now, not because I miss her less but because I feel needed here more.  I want to watch Noah grow up, I want to be a part of his life, I want to raise Elliott savor every milestone.  I want to be witness to Aly's life as it takes her by surprise and she falls in love and explores the world.  Now I fear how fast my life is moving, I fear that all this will end and there will be nothing, no Stevie, no heaven, just nothing and I find myself awake when I should be asleep checking on Noah, making sure the door is locked laying here listening to Elliott breath.

I count the years I should have left, wonder if my heart is strong enough, if my brain will stay wet and alive, conduct electricity like it should, if my cells are programed well and will keep reproducing at the rate they should for as long if not longer than the women before me.  Elliott needs a mama, and I am an older mama, 47 is not old but I will be 77 when he is 30 and 87 when he is 40 and I don't want to be falling apart I want to take care of my grandchildren on weekends, make sunday dinner, have Christmas morning at my house.

I miss Stevie and if I could believe with all the parts of me that believe and disbelieve things that she was waiting for me in heaven then I could sleep, and not worry.  If I could restore the faith I had when I was a kid in a God that had his hand on me, then I could breath deep and trust.  

It will be six years and still these moments when I can't accept that this has really happened, it's like I keep waiting for her to come home.  Last night I was nursing Elliott in the big chair in the living room.  Steve was working on taxes and making beer, Noah was in his room listening to Bruno Mars new CD, Aly was at work.   The lights were all on in the house, it was warm and cozy and I was flooded with nursing hormones touching Elliott's new hair when I heard a click and the front door gently opened.  Then I heard the whole house creak a little like it does some winter mornings.  My first thought was "Stevie is home"  I smiled.  Then I felt so very sad.  

Grief is tricky, you never know when it will swallow you.  You live with it everyday, it is a part of you,  but sometimes it is bigger than you are and you can't stuff it back into your pocket, you have to let it do what it does until it is ready to curl back up and be manageable again.

Next week I will go to the store and buy flowers, the fake ones, I will try to find something simple and sweet, I will include yellow tulips even though I feel like I need to bring something pink.  We will load up the car Steve, Noah, Elliott and I ( Aly refuses to go) with pic-nic stuff from Whole Foods, bring a blanket, some toys for the baby and take the long drive to Oakmont.  My heart will beat hard as we climb the hill that leads to the road the winds and winds to the place where Stevie's body is.  We will sit and talk and cry and I will tell Stevie about Elliott, he will play in the grass, he won't know where we are, he won't understand this place, he is a baby he is spring.

I will remark like I always do how pretty it is there, peaceful, the view breathtaking.  I will tidy up, replace old flowers with new, trace "Stevie-Christine McMoyler" with my finger.  I will tell her I am sorry it took so long to come back, I will tell her about the baby and the new fence, and the garden beds.  I will tell her the daffodils came up and only a few red tulips.  I will tell her that I found a whole tin full of satsuma soap she left and that I almost passed out when I opened it, that it reminded me of her and that last day.  I will tell her how much I love her and I will beg her to find a way to come home and tell me she is OK.  I will say I need more than the front door opening, it could have been the wind.  

I need to find a way to go back to sleep, it is going to be a busy day.  I have lunches to pack, a house to clean, a studio to move back home, and a baby boy who needs my every moment.   I need to find some peace before my house is awake, I want my boys to wake up to the smell of something sweet baking in the oven, old school music playing on the iPod, my smiling face and mushy kisses.

I am grateful for my life, even the parts that hurt.  I am sitting in this bed, in this room and it all seems so  tragic and beautiful.  It is all a circle really.

Train

I am awake, not sure why...it's four in the morning and there is no reason to be up but I can't sleep.  I went to see Wayne Dyer many years ago and I remember him saying that if spirit wakes you then you must listen and rise.  Here I am the house is dark and quiet everyone I love is fast asleep, dreaming...but  I am listening to what ever has me wide awake at this hour.

Elliott is next to me in Stevie's bed he is such a chub, what a beautiful baby, it still feels unreal, he is like a present every morning.  I still can't believe I am here in this moment with him, it was such a long journey.  I love learning about him, watching him become himself, find his hands, discover his voice, play with his toes.  He is silly, warm, sweet.  He's still so new but I feel like I have loved him forever.

Yesterday was Steve's birthday and we celebrated by going to the park across the street to play tennis and have a pic-nic brunch.  I still believe he chose this house because of the tennis courts!  He wishes we all loved the game as much as he does but we all gave it our best shot and were good sports as we lamely smashed the ball over the fence, into the net, and sometimes just missed it completely.  When we finished humiliating ourselves we ate big bagels from Noah's, smoked salmon, fruit, orange juice and cupcakes. After we ate Steve and Noah went back to the court and hit more balls while Elliott nursed and fell asleep on my lap while I sat under a big tree on a blanket,  Aly had to leave early to go to work but I was glad she joined us, it meant a lot to Steve to have us all together.

I felt so relaxed sitting there with Elliott both our bellies full, the sun warm, surrounded by long grass and dandelions, the sound of kids on the playground.  I felt connected to something bigger and it made me feel tiny but in the right place, like every moment of my life had led to this one, I seemed like I had been sitting there forever waiting to show up.  It's hard to explain and I feel it again as I sit here writing in the dark.

What if all this has happened before and we just live it over and over, we are in a life loop.  I am not sure what that would mean or why it would make any sense but what if this is all a memory, what if after we live our lives instead of heaven we just live in a memory loop?  What if we are simply stories, like books that sit on shelves that can be read over and over?  How cool and scary is that?

I am excited to see how this story continues to unfold.  I don't feel like I am almost 50 (in two years) or I don't feel what I thought I would feel at this age.  I don't think about wrinkle cream, sensible shoes or warm places I might want to retire.  I feel like I always have like I am just waiting to do the next thing, I don't relate to people my age, maybe I have arrested development, I am stuck at 30 is that possible?  Is it wrong?  Do we have to embrace aging?  Do we have to accept some kind of physical and mental decline? Is it selfish not too?  Is this a mid-life crisis?  I don't need a young boyfriend or a cool car, I don't need to find myself or have a face-lift, I simply don't want to believe that I have to slow down and start collecting aches and pains if I don't have them.

If I look in the mirror I still see myself, but a photo will shock me, I hate photos.

There was a wishing moon last night, and I wished to make contact with Stevie.  I was hoping she would find me at this silly hour, sit on my bed and we would talk.  I miss her so much.  

I closed the store.  It was the right thing to do.  I was never going to earn a living there, it was an art project, it was a place to heal and grow, it was an experience and it was time to let it go.  I am at peace with it but I had to go through a grieving process.  I am grateful that I will be home with Elliott, my studio will be here so I can still make art, write, play.  I don't feel like I failed although I am stuck with debt I will have to find a way to repay.  I found I am not a business woman but I am great at a lot of other things.

I want to write and illustrate another book, I want to make bowls made from clay, and I think I may be able to do that here while Elliott naps.  I am ready.

Noah is growing up so fast he is almost 6 feet tall at thirteen, how is that possible?   He is still so beautiful even with puberty face.  He is all long arms and legs, skinny, big smile that melts my heart and a deep voice I can't get use to.  He is made out of music, the way he moves, the way he expresses himself, his energy.  He is so frustrated that he has to learn to sing all over again, and again, each week his voice seems to change and it takes him to a new place only to be interrupted by evidence of more change.  He doesn't give up, he loves to sing, to play the guitar, to write songs.  I am so proud of him, I love him as a son I like him as a person.

Stevie's daffodils have just faded and the few tulips that are left are just getting ready to bloom.  We will need to put the new garden beds in soon.  We paid John to put up a deer/garden fence around the pool to keep Elliott safe, it is pretty, if a fence can be pretty, it feels good to know it is there and it will also keep the dogs from digging up everything we plant.  We have made so many changes to this house and the yard I can't even remember what it use to look like.  It is so funny that we had planned to live here a year and it has been 18 years, how did that happen, it went by so fast.  I never thought I would live in one place for so long, never thought it would be here.

Aly has decided on culinary school, not sure it 's a match, but I think it may be healing for her in many ways, it 's a connection to Stevie.  She is still struggling with independence, we don't help with that, we let her stay, we make it easy to stay, because we love her, because we all need to hold onto each other.  I want to see her out in the world, she needs to experience a life on her own but here we are.  She will find her way when she is ready.

It is now 5:46 and I am finally feeling a little tired, maybe I will meditate.  It was nice to write, even if it was only a train of thought.  Maybe we need to jump on that train at 4am just to see where it goes, just to take a look at where we are, what we have, what we miss, and what we might want to do next.

Thank you spirit for waking me.

Sure

I guess you have to define "Mother"  what that means, what it means to you.

I had a biological mother, one who conceived me by accident, who gave birth to me without understanding what that would mean, who took care of me as a baby like a child does with a doll.  She adored me, I was hers, something no one could take away, I redefined her as a person, I made her a mother by being her child.

More children came and once we were no longer dolls we became bargaining tools.  She had all her children in her twenties and that was when she began to unravel.  According to my grandparents she was always the "different" kid, she just needed more.  She isn't unlike me or my daughters in many ways;  stubborn,  we need to feel like we belong but we want to belong as our individual selves, we think outside the box, we challenge mainstream thinking, we are opinionated, we are fragile in ways no one can see.  This Mother of mine was all these things but there was always something else, she was manipulative, she always looked at the world in her own way, and could never see it through the eyes of the people around her.  It was almost like she believed she was the only one that really existed and the rest of us just an illusion, part of a game she was playing.  She continued to unravel until we couldn't see her anymore.

At some point we dollies had to raise ourselves, we had to learn to see the world outside of our rooms and experience with her.  We had to become our own mothers and live in a world separate from her to survive.  Does this still make her our mother?

I gave birth to my own daughters and I had to learn how to parent by reading books, making mistakes and adopting mothers along the way so I could learn by watching them.  I parented most days by promising myself I would not make the same mistakes my parents did.  I always felt like I was wearing a skin coat made out of my biology and I had to find a way to shed it by doing things the right way.  It was difficult and I was young but I managed it wasn't always pretty.  I have had to invent my own style of parenting, it took me years to become a Mother, to me it was a title to be earned.

Later Noah would come, after years of waiting  I got the green light from Steve, things were falling into place for him and I managed to squeeze in a little and said, "what about me, my dreams?"  He never thought kids were something you waited for and dreamed about, built your future around.  They were an experience you got through if you had to, in some ways they were inevitable but you had to keep it simple, one or two, move through it, move on.  He loves his children but they are part of his life, not all of it.

After Noah was born Stevie would get cancer, everything would change.  Steve and I fell apart.  I became a different kind of mother, I had learned how to pull children from the mouths of alligators, lift cars off trapped babies, but here we were and I could not cure cancer, a brain tumor was bigger than me and I couldn't save her, I failed, did that still make me her mother?

My entire being fractured the moment I kissed her lips for the last time.  I broke into so many pieces, I unraveled.  I didn't come apart like my mother, I came apart so that I could come back together stronger.  I had to learn to take that pain and loss and turn it into something else.  I had no idea it was happening, I didn't know what to do or where I would end up.

I tore out our kitchen, I wrote a book, I threw away the art that I thought represented me, and I created a business.  I could only get through the day if I felt productive.  No matter how busy I stayed I still woke up with a big hole in my life, I had to open my eyes every day and remember Stevie was gone, it hurt to breath.

One morning I woke up and I knew that I needed to be a mother again.  I didn't need to have a baby to distract myself, I had enough distractions.  I didn't need to have a baby to forget  or replace Stevie, that would never happen.  I needed to do this because I am a mother.  I am a lot of things but that is what I am most, what I love and value most, it is what completes me.

Even though I was sure this is what I needed to do I battled with it.  My rational brain made a long list of why this was not the most rational thing to do; my marriage was hanging by thread, I was 43 years old, my husband had a vasectomy and did not want any more children, he was even older than me.  We did not have the resources for a traditional adoption, or IVF, we lived in a small house, there was recession happening and we didn't know if Steve would have a job in a week or a month.  I had a business and a little boy who needed more of me, and I was still grieving but...

There are things in my life I am sure of, it does not happen often but when it does, it does.  This was one of those times.  I knew I would not give up, I knew this would happen, I knew it would be process and I knew my heart would surely be broken in that process.

When I am sure, there is nothing I can do or anyone can say to stop this thing from happening.  It is a force bigger than me.  I was tired and I didn't know where I would get the strength in me to move through another journey this big, but I woke up every morning knowing I was on that path anyway.  There is a metephorical light that shines in me, ahead of me, and all around me.  This light helps me move through my doubts, it helps me find a way over hurdles and sometimes mountains.  I can never see it until much later, when I am looking back.

It would take four years and the loss of a baby to bring Elliott home.  It would have to be a super hero, I would endure pain, I would fight for this with all I had, risk my marriage, my home, my health for this. Here I am where I knew I would be, feeling what I knew I would feel, looking back I can not believe I got from there to here, I knew I would but I just can't believe I didn't give up.  I feel like someone else now.

I still wake up and say good morning to Stevie, the depth of that loss has not changed, I have.

I am an older mom, it isn't the best thing but it's something I can do, will do, and will do well.

Elliott is not a genetic child, meaning the cells that I needed to have a baby were donated to me.  I had to be gifted a blue print but I provided the building materials and the site.  He and I did all the hard work together.  He is a child of mine, there is no doubt about that.

I am not his mother because I gave birth to him, because he belongs to me, I am his mother because I belong to him, I have made a  promise.  All my children have been a gift to me, they belong to themselves but I get to travel with them, I get the honor of welcoming them and guiding them.  I am the kind of person who thinks this is the hardest job, but the best job a person could have.  I don't need much else to make my life seem important.

We will teach each other, it won't always be easy, there will be so many mistakes but hopefully no regrets.  We are a family.

I still want a big family, if I were a little younger I would do this again.  My dream as a child was to have six children, it seemed like a good number when I was seven and writing the story of my life.  In this story I was a Pediatrician, astronaught, and a mom to six kids.  I had a husband named Jack who had a job in a big office.  We lived in a house the same color as my grandmothers, pink, mission stucco, red tulips planted by the windows.

My house had a big back yard with a tire swing and apple trees.  I imagined the inside of my house would always smell like Thanksgiving.  It would be bright, big rooms, lots of toys, and fluffy beds that everyone could jump on.  My kitchen table would mostly be a fort for tea parties, and I would always have a jar full of homemade cookies.  I would never spank my kids and they would all know how to sing like in the sound of music.

I pictured myself as pretty, blonde, long hair, pink painted fingernails and frosty lipstick.  I would drive a baby blue car with white leather seats, I would smell like peppermint and flowers   I would have soft nightgowns and a big soft bed that all my kids would cuddle with me in, we would read stories, eat cookies and wouldn't care if there were crumbs in the sheets.

I am 47.  I have lost a daughter, a baby, and today I have three beautiful children who share my days with me.   I became an artist, I live in a green house, I bake cookies, we have grieved and celebrated inside these walls.  Some days I am not sure how long I will remain married.  My bed always had a baby in it, big or small,  we jump on furniture, tell stories and I have never spanked my kids.

I have a couple apple tree's, my wild auburn hair is turning grey, never found much use for lipstick and  I drive a red car.  I never got to ride in a rocket ship but I get to watch the stars from our hot tub on summer nights.  There are many things I am, many I am not but always I am a mom.

A thousand words...

Because I have a chubby baby on my lap who is not going to let me write because he wants to nurse, laugh, and cuddle, I decided a picture may be worth a thousand words...

Noah and Aly having Gelato in Italy.

                                   
Noah and I in the car, I just told him that I wouldn't give up.

                             
Noah and friends in High school musical he was the lead heart throb...

                               Noah performing at the firehouse.

                                                 Aly, Noah, and Steve in Italy.

                                                                  Noah and Elliott...

                                          Newborn smiles...

                       Breast milk begins to fatten up the mouse.

                                                             After the bath with Noah.

                                                                  Mouse and Mama...

                                                  So we meet... Tears and a sigh of relief...

                                                             Noah and his besties.

                                                                            Cheeks!

                                                               Christmas tree day!

                                                     
 Noah as the White Rabbit in Alice!

                                                                             A nap...

          Still trying to decide what color his eyes will be.

                                                                Elliott and his Papa.

                                                    Mr. Mouse

                                                           Noahs birthday drums.

                                                                My star for Claire.

                                               Noah backstage, he was the heart throb again in 13.

                                                    Little brother.

The scientist

I'm going back to the start...

For weeks "The Scientist" by Cold Play keeps playing in my mind and heart when I wake up.  It happens to me, I wake up with a song everyday.  It isn't a Cinderella-kinda-wake-up moment.  I don't wake up sunshiney birds helping me make the bed, a little tune I can't help but hum.  I wake up with a song and it stays until I find it, play it, and really listen.  There are times when it makes no sense to me at all and sometimes it brings me to my knees.

The Scientist brought me to my knees and it is haunting me still.  Many years ago I bought the album (CD who says album anymore?)  Stevie and I listened to it on a little red portable CD player I put in her room.  She was sick, music made her feel better when she couldn't read, drink coffee, or eat fruit.    On this particular day music was all I had to offer and I thought she would enjoy the album.  She thought it was funny that I did, Cold Play not being on my playlist.

I remember the music made me sad, it was telling a story I didn't want to hear, it was marking time and I wanted to push it away.  I knew I  would remember that moment in time, us in her room, the red of the CD player, her head on her pillow, the sun coming in through the window, the smell of the room,  it would be a charm on my memory bracelet, one that I did not choose but was given to me and I wanted to scream for it all to stop all these frozen bits of time, I didn't want them I just wanted her and ordinary forgettable moments, teenager-mom fights, shoes on the floor, dishes undone, one more ride somewhere,  a messy bathroom with wet towels and make up left out, ordinary stuff, not this.

The tears came so I had to turn away, pretend I was stronger than I was, act like I didn't know what was happening, what road we were on.  I think "Fix You" began to play and I wanted to throw up.

So here I am five years later about to have a baby and I can't get this song out of my head so I go through my CD's which are covered with dust because now I listen to Pandora (who listens to CD's anymore)  I find the disc, put it in my car stereo and push advance until I hear the song, track 4 "The scientist"  I didn't even know that was the name of the song and that alone undid me.

I listened with all the cells in my body and I keep listening.  It means something, I need it to mean something, explain everything, tell me she is here, somewhere, with me, that it's Ok, that she is Ok.

I wake up with the song, day after day, I am missing something...

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you, tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart

Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions
Oh, let's go back to the start
Running in circles, coming up tails
Heads on a science apart

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh, take me back to the start

I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling the puzzles apart
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart

But tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
Running in circles, chasing our tails
Coming back as we are

Nobody said it was easy
Oh, it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be so hard
I'm going back to the start

Oh ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh
Ah ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh
Oh ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh
Oh ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooh

The 19th

I woke up at 12:30  on the 18th my bed wet...I thought for a moment that maybe my water broke but it was too early and I wasn't ready, my babies are never born early, and I had taxes to file at work that morning.  I put a pad on, laid a towel down under me and went back to sleep.  I was so tired, I had been working so hard to get the store ready, to get the nursery ready, to get Noah's party planned for Friday.

I woke up feeling a little embarrassed that my bladder had leaked and I needed to wash my sheets.  As I was loading up the washer I felt a small gush of fluid and I knew...  I cried, it was too early, I wasn't ready, it wasn't time, this wasn't how I planned it.  Steve seemed annoyed at my moment of weakness, and the fact that this was not a great day to go into labor, we both had so much to do.  He left for his appointments out of town and I promised to give him a call after I had seen the doctor.

I was in denial but so was the doctor, she wasn't convinced it was my amniotic fluid leaking and sent me home with litmus paper to use if I should have another "gush"  She patted me and said, "it isn't uncommon for our bladders to leak at this stage of pregnancy.  She said magic words but didn't know she had they gave me permission to go back to work, to not worry and I started to relax or go into overdrive, same thing as far as I am concerned.

I went to Costco, I ordered birthday cake, I filled our freezer, I went to work, I stocked and cleaned and did taxes then I went home and gush...litmus blue.

Steve was still out of town so Noah, Aly and I drove to the hospital where they confirmed I had ruptured and it had been more than 12 hours, and labor did not look like it was going to start on it's own or not as fast as they would have liked it to.  They admitted me and began induction.

This labor was like nothing I have ever known.

I usually start off slow;  swim, walk, eat, sleep, take long hot baths and wait until it is time to go to the hospital.  I get there, I have a baby.  I have never had an unbearable contraction, I have never labored for hours and hours getting nowhere.  I am designed to have babies, I do it well.

Pitocin is not my friend and an induced labor is very different from a natural labor, it is fast and hard and it got on top of me before I could catch my breath.  I labored through the night, everyone took turns sleeping, no one knew what to do, Steve wasn't there for me like he had been in the past, he was making a statement I guess, "I am here but I am not here for you, I didn't agree to this, I won't get caught up in it"  It hurt me but I was determined.  I was in a lot of pain and at some point I agreed to an epidural.

The epidural did not work, it seems I have an unusual anatomy and the medication provided me with a numb left side, mostly leg and bottom, it provided me with an odd kind of 'pain relief' but something was better than nothing.  They could not remedy the situation and after laboring for hours without much progress I suddenly began moving quite quickly.

The sun came up, everyone jumped into action gathering camera's, getting excited, even Steve couldn't help but move into his familiar position at my side, saying the words he always says, coaching me even though he didn't want to. 

I panicked when they told me I was complete, I cried, I was afraid, it was all happening too soon, he was too small, it was the 19th, oh my God it was the 19th...The day Stevie was diagnosed, the day she died, how old she was when she left.   Stevie was not here, and a baby was coming, and Steve was not happy, and Noah was waiting, and Aly was afraid, and quite possibly we could all be here at this hospital and not take a child home again.

I pushed twice and Elliott arrived easily, he emerged tiny and crying.  I heard Steve say, "he is perfect, he is perfect" and I believed him.  I heard crying lots of crying, I was crying.  Five years before we were all here at this hospital saying good-bye to Stevie, last year I was here letting Claire go and this time there is this little guy, so small, so strong, so real and the 19th became a sign to me that Stevie was close by, so close.

Elliott weighed in at 5 pounds 7 ounces and was 18 inches long, the smallest child of mine.  He was healthy and even though he was early the only thing we both had to endure was four hours in the nursery and an extra day in the hospital.  We went home on Friday, the day of Noah's birthday party.

Noah had his brother home, his mama home and a great celebration with all his friends at Rock n Jump.    The cake I ordered was beautiful, the party I planned was wonderful.

I am sitting her in a patch of sunlight on Stevie's bed, my little mouse close by napping.  He is a week old today.  He is a little yellow and we are trying to let the sun and lots of nursing get rid of his extra billirubin.  He is so beautiful, so very beautiful.  I am happy.

It is hard to believe a week has gone by, that I thought I would still be pregnant, in my 37th week, I would be finishing up at the store, I would buy a breast pump, wash the rest of his clothes, swim, walk, wait...instead he is here and he is real and my heart could just burst.

Is he Stevie?  Is he Claire?  I don't know.  I don't care.  He is Elliott, in this life that is all he has to be.  He has a long nose, the tiniest blond eyelashes, he has soft hair that is barely there brown a tiny bit of blond in the sun.  He has the lips all my kids have, full-missy-lips.  This boy has the longest feet with fingers for toes, and thin hands with spider fingers that I love to touch and kiss, so delicate, maybe he will be a surgeon.

He is small, so very small with a tiny squeak for a cry that get's stronger each day.  I call him mouse but  I know it will be a silly name for such a tall boy, I am sure he is going to be very tall.  His ears are like tiny shells, his belly-button still an outie and fine hair on his shoulders that will soon disappear, that I would have never seen if he would have been born later.

I can't wait to know what color his eyes will be, I have imagined green or brown but I just can't tell yet they are newborn grey-blue.

I know everyone wants to ask about what it feels like to give birth to a non-genetic child, is it different? and the answer is NO.  He is my child, my donors provided the blue print and I handled the rest, well Elliott and I.  He is familiar to me, he is my son, I know his smell, his patterns, his movements.  When he heard my voice he calmed, he opened his eyes and we knew each other, the only regret was that it took so long to find each other again.

I have said a prayer and I visualized all the donors hearing it in their sleep, I said "Thank you, all of you for this boy, our boy, for the gift of your shared cells so that I could parent again, to know this joy, feel this happiness, be healed by this miracle, thank you for being a part of our journey, helping us find each other, building a bridge so that we could get to the next place.  I don't know you but you are in my heart, you are my family, we are all a family."

I am in love.  I am so glad I never gave up, it's like I knew this day was coming I just had to find my way to it, and here I am, here we are.

I was afraid, I thought I wasn't ready but I was and it all happened like it should, each piece of this falling into it's perfect place.

Thank you Stevie for being here with me, for chosing the 19th, I understand it now.  You are not at that hospital, when I took Elliott home I took every memory of you and I there with me.  Happy Birthday sweet girl, I am happy, you don't have to worry about me, we did it baby, thank you for holding my hand, for keeping me strong so I could get to this day.  You are always my strength, my heart, my hope, my love.