Kittymomma's Adventures

Longtime readers of this blog are familiar with Team Lucy, the Heart Walk team I created in memory of my daughter Lucy. Team Lucy has also raised funds for Children’s Cardiomyopathy Foundation and we work to raise awareness of pediatric cardiomyopathy and pediatric heart diseases and defects in general. (We were very busy during Heart Month in February!) Here is a link to the Team Lucy Facebook page for more information:

http://www.facebook.com/GoTeamLucy

Right now, we are back to our identity as a Heart Walk Team and we need your help. Our first fundraiser has been underway for almost a month. We are selling gorgeous jewelry from Origami Owl. A portion of every purchase goes to Team Lucy for the 2014 Austin Heart Walk.

The story behind Origami Owl is inspiring. The founder and owner Bella founded the company at the age of 16. She wanted to raise money for a car and she did it!

http://www.origamiowl.com/story.ashx

The fundraiser is a huge success so far! We have raised $224 for Team Lucy. But kids with cardiomyopathy desperately need every bit of help they can get. So, please, check out our fundraiser, get yourself or someone you love something gorgeous, and support Team Lucy! If you can’t purchase, sharing the campaign on Facebook and Twitter is a huge help. Several sales have been made that way. One person even joined the company after my friend Mary shared the campaign on her Facebook page! Team Lucy got a bonus for that. J Here is the URL for purchasing and sharing, as well as a link to a previous post of mine about why kids with cardiomyopathy so desperately need awareness and research funds:

Origami Owl fundraiser link to share and/or purchase: http://www.charmedsuite.origamiowl.com/parties/TeamLucy362001/collections.ashx

Link to previous post about pediatric cardiomyopathy and Team Lucy:

https://kittymomma.com/2013/08/25/team-lucy-wants-you/

And here are some photos of the lovely Living Lockets (Origami Owl’s signature piece) already purchased by supporters of Team Lucy (including yours truly):

My sister-in-law Laure’s locket

My friend Lisa’s locket

My friend Lorna’s locket filled with her own beach souvenirs from Belize.

My locket filled with symbols of my husband, me, and my kids.

Even though this fundraiser ends on 6/30, the Austin Heart Walk will not happen until October 18. You can donate and/or sign up to walk with us any time:

http://social.heart.org/2P0xzuH

Thank you all so much for reading and for your support of Team Lucy. We appreciate so much everything that has been done in memory of our beautiful daughter and to help children still struggling with this disease.

Go Team Lucy!

For more information about pediatric cardiomyopathy, please visit: http://www.childrenscardiomyopathy.org/

Chris and I sat in the living area of our hotel suite at Lost Pines, reading while the kids slept in the bedroom. Moments later, a wail from Lucy emanated from the bedroom.

With a sigh, I tore myself away from my phone and went to investigate. I cautiously opened the door, hoping that Max still slept. He possessed an amazing ability to sleep through his sister’s nighttime cries.

Quite a sight – and a smell – assaulted my senses upon opening the door. Lucy lay in the Pack n Play crying. Max stood leaning on the bed right next to the Pack n Play, clearly awake. It was also abundantly clear that there was a huge poop in his snug-fitting Old Navy pajama pants.

Poor Lucy. I would cry if my brother was standing next to my sleeping area with a huge poop in his pants, too.

All I could do was laugh. Chris asked, “What? What is it?”

“Max pooped his pants. He either woke Lucy up or the smell did it.”

We took a deep breath (not too deep) and headed in to the room to take care of the situation. I picked up Lucy and walked around with her, talking soothingly to calm her. Chris took Max into the bathroom, stripped him down, and tried to figure out how to clean up such a mess in the middle of the night in a hotel room.

And then the toilet became clogged when we tried to flush the mess.

I honestly can’t remember how we handled that part. I don’t think we tried to get a janitor or maintenance person in the middle of the night. I think we managed to get the toilet to flush somehow. Chris then placed Max in the tub, got him to lie on his back, and basically hosed him off in the tub, while Max laughed hysterically. There was no help for it. Everyone except Lucy laughed. I walked around with her, laughing and talking to her about her crazy brother, promising her she would get to sleep again soon.

This will be a short one today, since I already went to the doctor this morning (Everything looks great.) and endured another fasting glucose test. I’m wiped. Thank goodness that was the last fasting test.

The pregnancy is definitely more difficult these days. During the last week or so, my patience has been at a low ebb. Also, there are items on my to-do list that have resided there several months and I am ready to check them off!! I want to have the nursery done soon, as well as Max’s birthday party, so I can get into the final baby preparations. (At least there is a definite date for Max’s party.)

These days, I catch myself being oversensitive and nitpicky with Max. I remember this happening during the pregnancy with Lucy and during the postpartum time. I swore to myself that I would be more patient this time and I have been so far. But the last few weeks have seen me picking at him before I even know the words are coming out of my mouth. I’m not considering and choosing to be crabby or impatient. It’s just happening.

I know this is normal and I am probably not giving myself enough credit for the times I am patient and loving. However, Max has been cranky this week, too. I think he might be getting nervous about the new baby. He also might be feeding off of my mood. I honestly can’t tell most of the time if I am cranky because he is being difficult or he is being difficult, because I am cranky and impatient.

I feel like I did not handle him well after Lucy was born and I want so badly to be more patient and make more time for him this time. I treasure our bond and the fact that we have become so much closer the past year. My increasing cantankerousness has me worried for the postpartum time. I have to remember that I am a very conscientious person who learns from her mistakes and that the postpartum time with Lucy was generally a vast improvement over the postpartum time with Max. (Lots of physical pain with her, but the mental and emotional stress were much, much less than after Max’s birth.)

I just love my little boy so much and I never want to make him feel like he’s an annoyance. The fact is, though, he’s human and sometimes he is an annoyance. Also, I’m human and I’m going through what many consider the toughest part of pregnancy right now. Maybe my family is just having a hard time right now and we have to weather it just like every other hard time.

I just don’t want to spend the next six months snapping at him. I want to help him grow up and take responsibility for himself and his place in this family, but I don’t want to make him feel like he is screwing up constantly. We all want this baby girl so much. I want this to be the happy time our family deserves. I don’t expect it to be stress-free, but I don’t want the stress to overly diminish the joy.

Nesting has set in with a vengeance. That means attacking all of the “clutter piles” that have taken up permanent residence in our home over the past few years.

I attacked one consisting of two baby gates and plastic bags of assorted clothes a few weekends ago. The contents of one of the bags blindsided me.

In it were clothes Lucy and I wore during her last hospital stay. They resided in this bag in my bedroom for over a year. We came home from that marathon hospital stay in Dallas and simply dropped all of the hospital paraphernalia in that corner of the room. I forgot I even owned these clothes.

The contents consisted of a pair of dark blue jeans (mine), a shimmery green top (mine), Lucy’s little purple hospital gown, stained dark pink and white socks from Old Navy, her reindeer pajama bottoms, and her panda guitar pajama bottoms.

Once I opened the bag and realized what was in it, I just stared, softly saying, “Oh, my gosh” or something like that.

Once Chris realized what was in the bag, a silence fell over us. A somewhat awkward, pained silence. It passed fairly quickly, thanks to some comments on my part. You just don’t expect this sort of occurrence a year later. I couldn’t believe they had been lying in that bag a few feet away from our bed this whole time.

When I spoke to my aunt Martha after Lucy’s death, she suggested I get some of her clothes, or something that had her scent, and put it in a pillowcase. I tried to follow her advice, but nothing seemed to smell like Lucy. I went through the laundry and checked her stuffed animals. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what Lucy’s scent was. I wondered if I was a bad mom for not knowing. I remembered what she looked like, sounded like, and felt like in my arms, but I could not conjure a scent.

I gave up on that quest, but remembered it while looking at these lost clothes on my lap a year later. I brought each article to my nose and carefully sniffed. They actually did exude a scent, but I wasn’t sure if it was Lucy’s. It wasn’t an altogether good scent, but it triggered an indefinable reaction in me. I felt something of the feelings I felt in the hospital, I think. I couldn’t tell if the scent was the hospital or Lucy or both. I thought I vaguely smelled formula.

I felt so strange having unwashed Lucy clothes a year after I thought her things had all gone through the wash for the last time. I put them in the hamper, then thought better of that and retrieved them for my closet. I needed more time with that scent. I needed to find out what other feelings or memories it could trigger in me.

I previously planned to wash them, but now I am not sure when or if I will. These clothes might have more stories to tell me. Part of me will always hope for more to Lucy’s story.

Serene, eternal smile

Tiny white teeth peeking through

A Band-Aid barely visible in the crook of her elbow

The only outward sign of her recent hospital stay

Ladybugs dance with hearts across her white pinafore

The hall light reveals the smudges on the glass that obscure her perfect little mouth.

Smudges from a mother’s kisses

It’s been 13 months today, since I last saw that smile.

Dear Max,

I am writing your annual letter to you early this year, since your baby sister is due two days after your birthday.

Two weeks ago, you finished preschool. You will be 5 at the end of July. I can’t believe we are almost 5 years into this parenting gig. The last 5 years have been the most amazing of my life.

However, both good and difficult times have the potential to amaze a person. Our family has endured much during the last school year. Even though Lucy’s death and the loss of Baby Bean occurred before it began, the repercussions of both were still fresh. Baby Bean’s loss was less than a month before you started preschool.

During the last week of school, you brought home a portfolio containing all of your schoolwork from this year. At the beginning of the year, you produced an indecipherable scribble when asked to write your name. Now you can see a clear “MAX”. At first, you could count to 11, now you can count to 29.

During the early days, you didn’t want to go and would cling to me at drop-off. Now, you still give me a hearty, tight, hug, but then release me willingly and go to join your teachers and friends.

We enjoyed a wonderful week of vacation before you started your summer program. I planned just a couple of activities, not enough to be overwhelming. I knew that you and I both needed our home time together. You are a homebody at heart, just like me.

The summer program got off to a bit of a rough start. They instituted a behavior chart program since last summer. You didn’t earn a whole sticker the first day, because you didn’t listen very well. You were so upset, but on the second day, one of your teachers told me you were her best listener during art class. You finally told me at the grocery store after school that you “earned a whole sticker like you always dreamed of”.

I am so proud of you for trying and succeeding. You have yet to go through an independent phase. We haven’t heard “I do it myself” from you very often, but when you decide you want something you really go for it. Whenever you play the letter-writing game on your Leappad, you become so frustrated when you don’t stay in the lines and earn your three stars. You cry and get so upset, but you always keep trying through the tears. You cry and cry and try and try. Sometimes you ask for help, which I am glad to see. I’m glad you know how to do that. And I do hope you learn how to give yourself time and take a break when you need it. I hope you will learn to harness your determination and make it work for you, instead of running yourself into the ground with it.

At this time in my life, the anniversary of Lucy’s death seems to be the fulcrum on which my year turns. In the year since our family changed forever on that day, I have enjoyed so many precious times with you. I feel more bonded to you than ever. I did my best to help you through your confusion and grief and, despite your young age, you helped me through mine. Sometimes I wished I could collapse into a ball and do nothing, but I couldn’t because you needed me. Although that was hard at times, I am so grateful to you. You have given me a reason to get up every morning since your birth almost 5 years ago and that was crucial this past year.

Max, you have been my almost constant companion for the past 5 years. As an introvert, that has worn on me a bit at times, because I just can’t be around anyone all the time, no matter how much I love them. I need alone time to recharge. But you have been pure joy, the firstborn I needed. You are a wonderful, loving, smart, sweet boy.

When I found out you were a boy, Grandma told me that “boys sure love their mamas”. That wasn’t the first time she relayed that information to me. I basically understood what she meant, but wondered what was so special about it. After all, she and I have always been close. I didn’t get a chance to compare with Lucy very much, so I don’t know if this is solely a product of your age or if Grandma is right. But you have shown me so much love during the past year. I can tell that you would choose to be with me over anything else just because I am your mom. I don’t think I have ever felt such love and pure-hearted devotion from anyone. I am the center of your world. This love is such an honor and so much to live up to. I know it won’t last in such a pure form. You will become an adult and my very human flaws and foibles will become more visible to you. Your feelings for me will become more complex.

So, I will cherish these last two months before Scarlett arrives, this last summer before full-time kindergarten, these sweet years when I am your first love.

I will cherish that “My Little Pony” is your current favorite show unsullied for you by the fact that Target only sells MLP underwear in the girls’ section, subtly (and wrongly) telling you it’s not for you.

I will cherish the pride I feel in your new reading skills and your excitement to meet your new baby sister.

I will cherish the growing comfort and security you seem to feel in the world, as evidenced by your happy participation in Show Day at Little Gym, where you insisted on doing all of your moves “pony-style”.

I will cherish the dreamy smiles you give me as you drift off to sleep while I sit next to you at night.

I will cherish every cuddle session on my lap, every time you “kiss [my] beautiful blue eyes”.

I love you a million Oreos, Max-moo, my little byoo. (Not sure how I came up with that, but I call you that all the time. I think it’s short for “Beautiful Boy”, one of the songs I love to sing to you.)

The next time I write to you, much will have changed, but I hope you will feel more loved by me than ever, along with enjoying love and adoration from your new baby sister. She is so lucky to have you, as are we all.

Love, Mama

Our family eats spaghetti for dinner at least once a week. Although now slightly modified to accommodate the gestational diabetes diet (I have not been diagnosed with that and probably don’t have it, but my glucose on the first test was slightly high.), we still eat it weekly.

Max, like many kids, prefers his with no sauce and meatballs. I have made homemade meatballs in the past, but mostly heat up the frozen kind. One day, I discovered we were out of frozen meatballs. For once, I thought of a great hack at the right time and simply heated and chopped up turkey breakfast sausage links.

Max LOVED it. He actually asked for more links after dinner. We couldn’t believe it.

The next week, during our weekly shopping trip, we headed down the frozen food aisle. Like most four-year-olds, Max is full of questions all the time, especially during shopping trips.

“Mom, what are we getting in this aisle?”

I responded somewhat abstractedly, “I’m looking for the frozen meatballs you like, honey.”

Max stopped and excitedly yelled, “No, homemade! HOMEMADE!!”

I realized, to my great amusement, that he wanted the chopped up, turkey breakfast sausage links. He knew we chopped up frozen breakfast sausage, but to him, that is homemade. Forget the fancy, turkey pesto meatballs I concocted from the Weelicious cookbook once upon a time. Max loves my kitchen hack meatballs. I felt an absurd sense of pride. Not only did I think of a way to save dinner at short notice with something we already possessed, but my son actually liked it, ate it, and asked for it again.

Now, we enjoy our weekly spaghetti topped with breakfast sausage. True to four-year-old form, Max does not always eat it. However, the pride I felt in the store when he asked for my “homemade” meatballs, will last me through the next few weeks of preschooler culinary arbitrariness.

CRASH!

The sound issued gleefully from my son’s mouth, echoing the sound made by Diesel 10 smashing through a carefully constructed pile of his cronies from “Thomas and Friends”.

Her Pee-Wee Herman laugh echoed through the room. It was a delightful, hiccupping, halting sound, full of joy and beauty despite the similarities to the aforementioned comedian. Max and I both looked at her with surprise and pleasure. He had made Lucy laugh! She thought it was funny when he smashed Diesel 10 through the other trains.

“Max, do it again! She likes it! You made her laugh!”

Max beamed with pride. His smile filled his face and his eyes shone as he carefully piled the trains again and pulled Diesel 10 back for launch.

All three of us sat on the living room rug together in the sunshine of that Sunday morning in May. I grinned in anticipation of the next crash and laugh. Lucy peered expectantly up at her brother from her position on her tummy.

CRASH!

Giggles from all three of us filled the room. That was the biggest crash yet, all done to impress his sister and make her laugh.

That happy playtime scene occurred on the morning of Mother’s Day 2013. As far as I know, that was the last time they played together. Lucy died mere hours later, but she spent that morning laughing as her brother crashed his trains with gusto to entertain her. I’m so glad we made time to play that morning.

A pink shirt with red boots on it, which was once a white shirt with red boots, unraveled me.

I ruined a shirt in my first load of baby clothes for Scarlett. (I might be able to fix it with Clorox for Colors, but I haven’t tried yet. And actually it doesn’t look so bad pink.) I’ve become so accustomed to throwing everything in together that I forgot about separating the colors from the whites in the load of new baby clothes. There was a pair of bright red socks and one of bright red pants. I even forgot about my color catchers.

Palm to forehead.

I hardly ever make mistakes with laundry, but I was just so excited to finally wash some baby clothes. My excitement made me careless.

Now the guilt and anxiety wouldn’t go away and it was a familiar and unnerving feeling. I felt like the child who couldn’t stand for her book cover to be bent, the high school student who scrutinized every interpersonal interaction, the college student who couldn’t stop checking her doors every night.

Why were these feelings back? My anxiety, OCD, and intrusive thoughts had been so well-controlled for so long with only brief flares here and there. I have worked so hard for so long. Why do I have to keep dealing with it coming back?

I wrestled with this the rest of the afternoon. I tried so hard to let it go. My husband tried to comfort me. A birthday party that afternoon distracted me for awhile. Later, after Max was in bed, I still felt terrible about it. I knew I wasn’t going to feel better until I successfully laundered more baby clothes and didn’t mess anything up.

While I sorted clothes in the girls’ room, it finally dawned on me. I don’t know why it took me so long to put this together. The anniversary. Mother’s Day was the next day and the one-year anniversary of Lucy’s death the following day. Remembering how we suffered the ultimate loss both of control and life that weekend was causing me to struggle for control a year later. My grief for Lucy and anxiety over doing better with Scarlett were combining to make me lose my mind over a shirt. Ruining a shirt in the first load of laundry for her felt like my first failure in mothering her, as silly as I know that is.

This realization helped me feel better, but the last few days have been hard, anxiety-wise. I know it will pass, as it has before, and that I know how to deal with it if it doesn’t. My mind is struggling to prove it can keep death at bay for this child by controlling every detail and also probably trying to distract me from grief over Lucy. It doesn’t help. It just makes me angry and exhausted. At least I know what my mind is up to, but that just makes it more frustrating in some ways. I hate it when I know my mind is obsessing needlessly and I can’t make it stop.

At least I know I can be okay. Hopefully, just getting through the next few days is all I need.

I’m 35 today. My post about the first anniversary of Lucy’s death pretty much covered the yearly retrospective angle. So, I will talk today about a corollary to that post – the joys and fears of having a second living child again.

I am overjoyed to welcome this baby and so excited about it. The anticipation for her arrival is overwhelming at times. I do feel some trepidation about entering the baby world again, mainly the interrupted sleep and having to work around naps. However, I am just so excited that, even though I warn myself to appreciate sleeping through the night right now, I can’t help wishing for the next 2-3 months to fly by.

This is a second chance for me. (Or is it third?) I get another chance to do this all over again and do it better this time.

The problem is that part of me is afraid I won’t do better.

That’s silly, because I do better with each child. I joke to Chris sometimes that we should have 10 kids, so I can be perfect. 😉 There is so much I feel guilty about with Lucy, though. As far as the accomplishments I listed in my last post, I worry about their place in my life once I have a baby again. I do not want to lose the progress I’ve made, but I don’t want to obsess about not writing and whether I will go back to it while I should be enjoying my newborn daughter. I know normal life will fall by the wayside at first; I’ve done this twice already. With Max and to a lesser extent Lucy, I felt like a failure, because I did not seem to be able to do all the things other mothers did, even those with young children. I seemed to have time for nothing but mothering and then grasping what time I could for myself to stay sane.

The fact is, we made this choice and, in my mind, no other choice existed. I want this baby and I want Max to have at least one living sibling. I’ve worked hard to change my habits and priorities, so that fitting writing back in to my life will come more naturally once the baby is older. Plus, we have literally done this before. This is the third newborn we will bring home, we have had more than one child already, and Max will be much older and an experienced older brother this time. I believe that I will take the newfound confidence I described in Wednesday’s post and apply it to mothering and writing. Believing in and doing it right now will help me to believe and do after the baby comes. I just know it.

This is familiar and uncharted territory all at the same time. If I can traverse the uncharted territory of mothering a child who has died, I can find my way through mothering my second living/thirdborn/fourth overall just fine.