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Since my birthday, I’ve had a tougher time. I know it’s because with every day, I see the passing shadow of last year as my IVF approached full-swing at the beginning of August. It marks a year of filled with so much – I don’t even have the right word for it – stuff. Like, there’s been years of my life that have passed without a notice. Status quo years where life was predictable, sometimes pleasant, sometimes not…but just rolling hills in a landscape.
As this new parallel year approaches, I find myself reeling again as if I was back on that treacherous road of mountainous peaks and black holes. I find myself feeling as if I am barely hanging on to the steering wheel at times, like I might plunge straight down the side of a cliff if I let go for just one second. If you asked me how I feel, I couldn’t tell you.
“I don’t know. How do I feel?” I would ask back.
Today Sam was dancing around the house in maniacal form after a busy time at music camp. He dance his head smack into the corner of a door. Tiredness weakened his own ability to cope, and thus the tears and moans flowed freely. Despite my mommykisses and shushing, he continued to pour all energy into the growing goose-egg on his forehead.
Total, primal abandon.
Like a wolf howling at the moon.
And though I finally managed to get him to take some deep breaths and ‘move on buddy’. I noted the tired relief in his face, the limpness of his body, now drunk on tears. And I was envious of that post-meltdown moment and frightened all at once…to think of that letting go.
Maybe I need my own head to be doorsmacked.
Or something, anyway.
Not a whole lot to post today…just a simple weekend. Trying to keep up with my dust bunnies and dirty laundry. They’re winning. Abby rolled from her belly to her back the other day. I cannot use the term ‘newborn’ any longer to describe her. Makes me sad, though I remind myself it’s more fun once you really start to see their personalities emerging. Sam got upset at me today for ‘being nice to Abby and not to him’. And so it begins…sibling rivalry.
I reminded him that, though I have more expectations of him, he gets to do big boy stuff like play bowling on the Wii. He reminded me that he’s been waiting to go bowling FOR REAL since I got pregnant with Abby.
We agreed that she is definitely an inconvenience…but that she’s also worth it. Maybe I agreed with this more than he did today. I guess it’s to be expected.
Thought I would dig up one of my favorite poems, fitting for a day such as this…
It’s Hot!
By Shel Silverstein
It’s hot!
I can’t get cool,
I’ve drunk a quart of lemonade,
I think I’ll take my shoes off
And sit around in the shade.
It’s hot!
My back is sticky,
The sweat rolls down my chin.
I think I’ll take my clothes off
And sit around in my skin.
It’s hot!
I’ve tried with ‘lectric fans,
And pools and ice cream cones.
I think I’ll take my skin off
And sit around in my bones.
It’s still hot!
Last Saturday, I turned 35. The tears that glazed over my eyes surprised even me as I off-handedly mentioned that last year I spent my birthday at Disney World. Now THAT was a birthday to remember. I was awarded an obnoxious badge announcing my ‘special day’ and was greeted by cheery birthday wishes from most every Disney employee I passed. I’ve never been so indulged.
It was also the same week I started my Lupron shots for my first (and only) IVF cycle…started them at a bathroom in the Magic Kingdom, actually. I was so full of tenuous hope, pulled tight across my heart like stretched canvas. Terrified, excited, hopeful, hopeless. And so unaware of my future loss.
I’m so glad, really, that I didn’t know about losing Will. I look at the pictures of myself from that trip and marvel at my smile, a smile that had never known what it’s like to have a doctor tell you that your baby has no heartbeat. Hands that never held a baby’s broken body. Lips that never had to tell that awful, awful news to friends and family.
This past birthday, the kids played with left-over 4th of July sparklers in the mosquito-heavy yard. My niece handed me the final flickering of a sparkler, “Here, Titi (her name for me). Make a wish.”
To indulge her (as she’s only 12 and a sensitive soul), I closed my eyes tightly and pursed my lips as if I was thinking up some wonderful treat. I blew out that sparkler with might and smiled and with satisfaction.
It is only you and I who know that I thought of nothing during that wish-session. Nothing. Because wishing things that can’t come true is a hollow sort of pain. I wished nothing, because I would give so much, so much, to see just the briefest glimpse of who Will could’ve been if he’d lived…and I know I can’t.
And so I hate wishes for now, at least my own anyway.
…but I still like Disney World, and I guess that means I’ve not
completely soured on magic and whimsy.
Every night, Sam sings a series of songs(all chosen by him) for his bedtime routine. It started out with “ABCs” and “Twinkle Twinkle” but now also includes “Jesus Loves Me” and “Jingle Bells” (yes, every night). I put Sam to bed tonight as I’m staying without Mark at my sister’s house right now. On our slightly amelodic version of “Jesus Loves Me”, Sam proudly belted out a phrase that cracked me up…
Jesus loves me this I know,
For the bible tells me so.
Little to ones to him belong.
Because Jesus’ butt is strong.
(no disrespect to Jesus by the way. I’m sure ALL of his body parts were equally strong)
Tomorrow is my 35th birthday. Spare me the candles and pass me the hair dye.
Hoo-rah.
Pictures pages, pictures pages
time to get your picture pages.
Time to get a pen or a pencil.
You can play with picture pages.
Fill your day with picture pages,
’til Bill Cosby does another
picture page with you.
Do you guys remember this? Or am I hopelessly old? Anyway, this post really doesn’t have a single thing to do with Picture Pages except that I wrote ‘Picture Page’ as the title, and my brain immediately transported there.
Who ever actually had the picture page booklet anyway?
So, we went to Abby’s first fireworks on the 4th last weekend. Abby slept through the display, and Sam asked when they were going to be over about 10 minutes in. Typical.
One of the fireworks landed on Abby’s head…
(get it? it’s just the bow, you sillies)
I also attempted to take a decent picture of Sam and Abby together and only came up with this one (Sam is slightly out of focus) before Abby started screaming. Ah, sibling love.
(please note that I practiced restraint, here, in the bow department)
Off to visit my sista for a week. Will steal some time on her ‘puter when I get a chance!
Conversation while I was on the, ahem, porcelain throne yesterday…
SAM: (butts head in through doorway) Mommy! Were’s my (insert some random thing that he felt he needed at that EXACT moment)?
ME: Sam, you’re getting old enough to learn that Mommy needs some private time when she’s in the bathroom.
SAM: Mommy (said with much indignation), I need your private time, too.
Sigh.
Eggggggg-zactly.
But don’t get me wrong…
it’s a blissful inconvenience to have no privacy…ever.
Blissful, I tell you.
* * * *
I think I’m finally mastering the ‘short post’.
It’s only taken me a year and half.
Yes, I am a slow learner.
Seriously…
I would pay TOP-dollar if I could get milk,
bread and diapers at a drive-through.
So, I’m sure you’ve noticed that I changed the blog header/name (again). Just seemed like time to encompass the blog name to more than just Will’s loss. Hope that doesn’t sound like ‘moving on’. I hate that term, by the way. I tell my son to ‘move on’ when a chunk of his ice cream melts off and hits the sidewalk. No, it’s more like ‘breathing again’ than ’moving on’. Or maybe we could call it ‘living again where once I merely existed’.
Either way, it felt time to change the name. So, ’Impersonating Normal’ was my top choice. It was actually the name I picked out to use after I became pregnant with the twins but before Will died. At that time, it was meant as pure sarcasm at my overall dorkiness. But, now I’ve come to like the duality of the title, that is also describes this bittersweet journey. Normal will never be the normal it once was.
It amazes me how often the world reminds me of Will. I saw two lovely little fraternal twin sisters at Sam’s story time at the library. My breath got caught (much to my surprise) at the grocery the other day as I turned toward the florist section where I picked out two vases of roses for my twins’ service. While watching a child’s magic show this week, I sat among a sea of children. “William,” called a mother directly next to me. A handsome child around 10 years old, with golden curls and freckles, wound his way through little hands and feet to sit just two chairs down from me. “I have a William,” I wanted to say to the mother…but, who wants to hear about a dead baby at a magic show?
‘Impersonating Normal’ is what the baby-lost do.
Well, I suppose it’s what we all do. Right?
Ugh, didn’t mean to get all existential on everyone. (twiddles thumbs) So, anyhoo…who’s up for a lame magic show and ice cream?
