How Could I?

Not recognize Eli's birthday in a sea of dates  months and months ago?  I am currently the leader of my daughters' school PTO which is an exhausting volunteer commitment but one that I undertook voluntarily so I've really given it my all.  So much so, that it only occurred to me a few weeks ago that this month's meeting date falls on Eli's birthday.

I panicked.  I mean seriously.  I had marked these dates on the calendar in August.  Last month I typed it onto the February agenda.  How could I not have put two and two together during all of those months and all of the times I looked at that date?  To that I am speechless.  It's not like I forgot his birthday was coming up.  Of course when I finally added it up it was too late to move the meeting date which only increased my panic since it's a fairly important meeting that I wanted to attend.

But, I do very little on my son's birthdays.  Those are my special days to fill with memories and as much peace as I can garner.  I bake, frost cupcakes, buy balloons, make a special meal and then pack it all up, four kids included, and we take it out to the grave site where we eat, blow bubbles, remember and make wishes as the balloons float away.  That's it.  That is all those days are about to me.  I will not be attending this months' meeting, I'm making it work and that will have to be okay.  I just still can't believe that day didn't scream to me louder than all the other thoughts bouncing around in my head.

I'm Falling with Fall

Fall has always been my favorite season. I live in a region where it is winter or winter-like for a majority of the year. Spring has always renewed my spirit after many long months of short, dark, colorless days. Especially this year. Eli died before the earth came back to life and when it did so a little bit of me came back to life. Fall, I'm afraid, is almost having the opposite effect. Each day shrinks in light and warmth. The earth is slowly beginning a slumber which will last for many long months. Color is leaving our world and so far there is little autumn splendor to ease the transition. With each chilly breeze it seems that a chill of sadness creeps into my bones. Some days I am so cold I can barely get warm and yet it is still only September and we are even experiencing above average temps for the season. I am glad that Eli was born on the cusp of spring so that each year when I celebrate his birthday I can await the awakening of nature and watch the earth come alive just in time for Wyatt's birthday which is appropriately just on the cusp of summer. Spring has always represented hope and rebirth and I often find it ripe with little miracles of nature. Fall is threatening to take my hope and allow its speedy friend Winter to hold it ransom.

Darkness

Days are getting shorter and I don't need a calendar to figure this out. September is knocking on the door but I am stumbling in darkness. Literally. I already miss the dog days of summer when getting up at or before 6 am to exercise meant opening my eyes to find a trail of sunlight creeping down the hallway towards my bedroom. Now I climb out of bed not knowing what time of night or morning it is and whether I should even be awake. Most of the time I am intuitive enough to realize that if my husband is not beside me in bed that I should be awake or awake soon (I gave up alarm clocks when I gave up my career, intrusive little buggers they are!).

Morning is silence and darkness. It is not clouds or the threat of rain. It is the sun just not being up yet plain and simple. An immovable force like so many I have faced in the last year. There is no amount of pleading, bargaining or praying which will raise that sun one minute before its intended time to rise. I'm still looking for a bright side to this one.

The Little One and I

School starts tomorrow. Our oldest will go off to second grade and our middle daughter will have her first day of school at kindergarten. Then it will just be me and my three year old, who holds a strong belief that she is a puppy (which seriously is the cutest thing when she decides to wag her tail). My head is looking forward to the peace of those hours during the day. It has been a tumultuous summer having all three very energetic little girls home and me at their beck and call. This summer we celebrated four birthdays, Wyatt's, our oldest and mine in June and the little one just turned three a few weeks ago. We attended a parade and fireworks for the Fourth of July. We blew countless bubbles, walked endless miles, our oldest ditched her training wheels, the youngest learned to ride bike and scooter, we decorated our concrete with sidewalk chalk frequently and all three girls took swimming lessons for the first time. There have been days much cooler than normal which stunted my garden and has left me hopeful for next year already, days when it was already dripping wet at 6am and far far too much water this summer. I have been a constant referee and find discipline a formidable challenge.

Tomorrow that will change. My head is ready for this, it needs the silence, the time for reflection and possibly even the extra space to grieve. That perhaps moving that one extra child out of the house for a few hours each day will allow me space to grieve the one child whose absence will be especially stark for a while now. "It wasn't supposed to be this way" my heart says. I had been so excited at the timing of Eli's pregnancy. We would have had a beautiful summer together, all of us bonding and enjoying the new little life who would change before our eyes every day and also change us. Then I would send the older two off to school and it would be me and my youngest two, keeping the status quo.

But that's not reality and over these last few months I have come to accept that. Instead of living under the sadness of what should be I will do my best to enjoy what I have, which is a beautiful little girl who is so easy and so deserving of this time alone. We are going to have a great year together. Perhaps next year will be different.

Three Months Ago

Three months ago I was expecting to bring our fourth child home this spring. We had purchased a new car seat, left up the baby crib and gotten our daughters all excited about the impending sibling's arrival. We made jokes about having four kids and how our lives would change with the addition of another. Secretly, I hoped for a little boy to break up the estrogen-fest in our household and I dreamed of his three big sisters doting all over him. I contemplated how I would get our oldest to the bus every morning with three others in tow. We debated whether to find out the baby's gender, I wanted a surprise and my husband preferred to know. The sticky part was if we did happen to have a boy, with three girls, most of our clothes were of the pink and very girlie variety. It never, and I really mean never, occurred to me that we would not bring this baby home.

In just three months, truthfully, probably in about three minutes, I've completely adjusted to the reality that I will not bring this child home. There is no longer a crib set up in our house, after completing our youngest's potty training we have now packed away diapering supplies. I have eradicated all that is baby in our household and I'm thirty-one weeks pregnant. As I pack these things away anxiety eats at me. Not only am I waiting another five weeks to meet this little one, but I am waiting five weeks to find out my reproductive fate. I can only imagine how this sounds to others, that I am concerned about having another baby when I have yet to hatch this one. But in my heart I know my family is not yet complete and I do not anticipate that this baby's birth will change that feeling. However, with five c-sections this very well may be the last and then I will be forced to purge the house of all that is baby following the loss of my last child. I have never been in that position. After having Wyatt we knew we could have another and in my heart I knew that we would. This place is a very scary one, so many unknowns and finalities lingering in the air.