Perfect Moment Monday - A Pregnant Pause (UPDATED)

WELCOME ICLW-ERS! THERE IS MUCH GOING ON HERE AT BHB IN THE LAST WEEK AFTER, WHAT NOW SEEMS A STRANGE CONCERN I HAD ABOUT LACK OF WRITING TIME. IF YOU ARE NEW ON THE GRIEVING JOURNEY YOU MIGHT FIND AN ODD KIND OF COMFORT IN MY "BACK-TO-THE-BEGINNING SERIES". PART ONE IS RECENT, MY FIRST TIME BACK TO THE JOURNAL I WROTE DIRECTLY AFTER EMMA DIED. WHAT FOLLOWS HERE IS PRESENT DAY MUSINGS...

UPDATE- TUESDAY, JULY 21ST: ELIJAH ARRIVED AT 11PM LAST NIGHT AND A CUTE COMEDIAN STORY, AS WELL AS PICS OF THE BABE ARE AT THE OTHER BLOG. THANKS FOR ALL YOUR COMMENTS AND WELL WISHES. MOMMA AND BABY ARE FINE, TIRED - BUT FINE.
***
Emma wasn't just my firstborn. She was the first grandchild on both sides.

One year, one month later my nephew was born.

I was ambivalent about the birth. I was jealous. I was simultaneously happy, incandesced, angry, excited, nervous and anxious to meet him.

It just so happened I was spending the night at my friend's house because our evening class had run late. The phone rang, "Hey babe" Jer said, "Just thought you'd want to know that she had the baby and...it's a boy." I had hoped, no - prayed and begged for that. Somehow it will make it less painful...I told myself.


It didn't.

After hanging up the phone I was engulfed in a tidal wave of tears. The wracking, full-body-reaction kind of sobbing that makes a puppet out of you. My puppeteer, a rocking chair, seemingly moving of its own accord: back and forth, back and forth, back and forth; if only to remind me that I still exisited. Through it all my friend said all the right words, stroking my hand, allowing my emotions.


Not one's typical reaction to the miracle of birth.

It could have been that his birth was so close to her first birthday.

It might have been that I, even though I wasn't exactly 'trying' on account of my general state of puddle-on-the-floor-mushiness I'd existed in for the last year, wished it were me giving birth; suffering through painful contractions with the end in sight -- a live baby.

It could have been the flashbacks it brought on, the new wave on intense longing for my baby girl, or the fact that this baby was fawned over while mine was invisible, and consequently -- rarely spoken of.

I suppose it was all of the above. Whatever the emotional cocktail, the result was I spent little time with my nephew in his younger years. I wonder if, without intending to, I resented him for re-taking the 'top spot'.

After that, my sister and law and I took turns, annually having a baby so that the school system has reason to raise their eyebrows each year and say, "Another from the Tyrrell-clan starting this year?"

Today*, my second nephew is making his way into the world.

The four cousins slept together last night, a perfectly content ladder of children ages 7,6,5 and 4. By days end, the last of the T-clan will have pushed his way into our family.


Today I am excited, anxious, jump every time the phone rings, in love with idea of another, grateful to have these kids in my home, and filled with an indescribable kind of peace every time our family's second-first born looks into my eyes and calls me, "Aunt Cara".


He remembers nothing of my ambivalence. He only knows I love him and his sister, and - of course - the little boy we hope to meet before the sun sets.


A perfect moment to be sure. Click back for all the rest.

*- And, on his actual due-date. How rare is that?

Coming Home

I pulled into the driveway, placed the car in park and turned off the engine. The kids immediately escaped the confines of their five hour moving-jail, bolting for the house door screaming "Daaaaadddddyyyy".

I sat. The quiet grew as I allowed a slow scan of my surroundings. The grass was greener, the chickens bigger, the yard tidier and the view -- more beautiful than I remembered it being for years. Nothing had really changed, but everything had. Gratitude for the life that I live, have lived, for the last nine years seemed nearly tangible without the myriad of 'responsibilites' vying for position, diminishing the value of our walls, our roof, our land, our little brook running through the back field, our garden, and -of course - our focus on family.

This vacation was so many things. I'm sure the physical details will show themselves both here and at the Bear / Comedian site, supported - no doubt - by adorable pictures and well spun tales. But the true result of this unplugged vacation* was a new grasp on perspective, and - if I'm being honest, a not-so-sudden realization of the not-so-mild addiction my computer represented in my life.

And yes, that last sentence is intentionally in the past tense, not because I think that I can just snap my fingers and erradicate the fact that my blog leads me more than I lead it; but because I am consciously choosing to reverse that fact.

I missed you more than I can say, but I also embraced the unpluggedness of my time. I experienced a familiar rush as I logged on to my google reader, but vow to manage my time better. By that I do not mean that I will do less. I will still participate in Show and Tell, Perfect Moment Mondays, update the Weekly Children's Wisdom Quote, maintain the Share Southern Vermont website, update the Angel Wall twice monthly, and post as the mood and inspiration strikes about my sweet angel daughter, but like the well trained teacher that I am, I will plan for these events allowing myself more time here, in my physical world, tuning-in to my children and being the most attentive parent I can be.

The shift was imminent, not only because it is summer and school is out, but because these are the formative years for my girls. The self-motivated and self-regulated tools they learn now will serve them for the rest of their life, or not.

Case in point...

Comedian (in a serious moment): "Momma, I can't wait to be a grown up."
Me: "Hmmm...what do you see when you look at grown ups?"
Comedian: "Big people who do lots of homework** and say 'wait a minute' a lot"

Vacation: (n) A break from the routines of normal daily life complete with a lack of expectation that allows only good and fun things to happen resulting in a return to perpective of what is important.

Summer: (n) see above definition









* turns out it was tough love not forced celebacy!
** she calls working on the computer 'homework'

The Deception of Appearances

WELCOME ILCW'ERS - BE SURE TO CLICK THE LINK IF YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT A GREAT WAY TO HONOR / BOOST THE EGO OF THE MEN IN YOUR LIFE WHO ARE GRIEVING THE LOSS OF THEIR CHILD...

Ok, I'm feeling a little guilty for taunting with the totally rockin' and sure to be a finalist pic of my Knocked Down Hunk from my show and tell post...

So, here's a pic - and NO - it's not my entry!

But it is a clear indicator that appearances can be deceiving. I am an only child, and have long since let go of the, 'if I had a brother or a sister would they have looked anything like me...' line of thinking.

And, as the mother to Bear and Comedian their visual dissimarities seem to somewhat answer the question...somewhat...although I still beat around the mushy rain-logged tennis ball of 'would Emma have looked like one of them...' every once and a while.

But here you have my hubby (left) and his only sibling who not even I would pick out of a five man line-up.

And it makes me think...alot...about creation and life and family and would we have picked them if they hadn't also popped out of our mother's womb, and how chosen friends can become family, and what is the defining balance of Nature vs. Nurture *in our lives...and a host of other wild cosmic questions.

But - those musings are a post for another day. For today...an apologetic offering - so you know who to look for in the KDH contest...of course!!!

*This book a great read - and, for me anyway - invaluable to understanding my children...

Show And Tell - An Angel Tree

Christmas arrived three months after Emma died. I still hadn't resurfaced into the world. As many parents of angel children do - I emotionally boycotted the holiday. It was empty, devoid of cheer. I saw no reason to acknowledge the lifetime rituals and traditions ingrained in me. Just glancing at a storefront trampeled my heart with "Baby's First Christmas" onsies. I went inward.


Annually, my affection for Christmas crept back. As we welcomed another child, and then another - it seemed we were committed to celebrating - for who can deny a small child the delights of a first Christmas?


(random side note: Bear's first Christmas she suffered with a fever of 104.5 and threw up all over the floor of our neighbor's house. We came home -immediately)


However, I had one requirement. The holiday must include Emma, just like every other part of my life. My everyday had been permanantely altered by her absence, so this special day must be equally touched by her presence - her spirit.


We began buying Emma an ornament, every year. Some have her name on them - some have the year, but all have angels. Bear and The Comedian come home from school bearing bright primary colored home-made ornaments. I love them and will proudly display all the products of their brilliant little minds for as long as they bless our home.


But, I love the idea of my angel tree. Someday, when Bear is an architect who dabbles in fashion design on the side and The Comedian is hosting her own talk show, making people laugh every day, they will each take a box with them labeled: ornaments.


I will be left with a box too. Emma's Ornaments it will say. It will hold 25 years of angels, each unique, a representation of how her memory integrates into our family as time passes. I will have an Angel Tree.

Our collection - so far. Some are gifts. Some I chose. But, my favorite, by far, is the green angel below this text. J picked it out last year.

What are you showing and telling this week?

2 Days And Counting - "The Burning Bush"

After Emma was stillborn a slew of gifts arrived our way. There were cards, flowers, plants, and even some cash. We were grateful for all of it and used the money to pick the most beautiful baby headstone we could find.

The burning bush given to my parents, however, was the gift that became our focus. It was a living thing to gather around, to plant, to care for, to watch grow, and any other number of metaphors you could easily put in the same sentence when refering to your baby. Now, understand I am not a real "flower" person. In fact, my mother finally stopped giving me plants for gifts because withing weeks, they were withering. But, this burning bush was something different for me. It represented so many esoteric feelings and tangible moments for me. It was my first earthly link to Emma.

The first bush was planted at my parents house. J. and I didn't own a house yet and that was the home I had lived in for the entirity of my childhood. On a breezy day in mid Sept, 2000 Grandma, Grandpa, Nana, Papa, J. and I gathered to plant Emma's burning bush. In a grand ceremony kind of way, that none of us really though about..but just unfolded, we each took a turn digging into the ground, tossing in some fertalizer, then - when the bush was settled, the rotation began again for placing the dirt back into the earth and watering. After, we shared a family meal and attempted to enjoy each other's company.

In order to really understand the magnitude of this easy, holiday like scene, it is key to know our families' dynamics. (these are just the facts now...no judgement here!) I am the product of two city raised post graduates who moved to the country, but couldn't really be called "country folk". After a few years their only child was born, and although not overly spoiled, was definately doted upon with a strong focus.

J. is the oldest son in a farming family. Chores, responsibities, farm odors, hard long hours, and a weekly majority of meat & potatoes was the lifestyle from his early days. We make a great pair, but our parents, and rightfully so, sometimes struggle to see the world through the other's eyes. There are often questioning eyebrows or befuddled faces when the topics of slaughtering or seminars are brought up.

So now you see how unique our experience that day was, sitting around the table, discussing (to be honest I don't even remember what) but it was a calm, easy, low-tide discussion. There were no raised eyebrows or befuddled expressions. Emma was with us. She was our reason for gathering. She performed one of her countless miracles that day and harmoniously brought together the families of a Romeo and Juliet like relationship.

There are currently three burning bushes planted for Emma Grace. J. and I bought a house about a year after her passing, and my parents gave us one for the front yard. I was so touched by the stone work my husband did, creating an "endless circle" of flat stones around the bush to keep her safe and show our neverending love. Two years ago, my parents moved to a new house and didn't want to run the risk of transplanting the original bush, so they erected another. What a masterful show for a tiny soul. Well done Emma.

Every year on her birthday I take a picture of our bush, I measure it and record its height like you would with your child, and I cry tears of joy, appreciation, sadness, meloncholy, and inspiration as every leaf turns flaming red in the fall as if to say, "I am here. I know this when you focus on me the most and when your hurt the most. So, see my red leaves and know - I am here, mommy".

This year, the most amazing thing happened. Two weeks ago, on Bear's first day of Kindergarten, as we walked by the bush and I turned, like I always do, to say hello, I noticed a flash of color. "No Way!" I told myself. "Fall isn't here yet and the weather had been unseasonably warm. Your bush can't be turning yet!" But as I walked closer, silent tears slid down my cheeks. One, single, solitary leaf was red.

"Mommy" Bear yelled "Let's go to Kindergarten" as The Comedian was pulling on my pant leg. I wiped my tears away and called them over to the bush. "Look" I said, "Just one leaf is red on your sister's bush". Then Bear, in her 'matter-of-fact', all-knowing, odd topics don't bother her, kind of voice said, "Yeah. Emma came to wish me good luck". Of course she did, I thought. Of course.

Bear's world-colliding abilities are a post for another day, but I will tell you that the leaf is no longer red. It has gone back to green, like it's hundreds of brothers and sisters. They will all turn red, soon, but she was here for just a day, just like Bear said.

God bless each and every one of you hurting, grieving mothers who are looking for your miracles. Keep an open mind and a wide-open heart and your baby will find you.

A similar soul,

Cara