March 13, Pi day's eve, as I was told by a friend this evening. Two years ago on this very night, I was sitting in my bed, just as I am now, writing on my iPad. I was thinking and reflecting and finding just the right words to use in my goodbye letter to Miri. And here it is two years later, and I'm still sitting here, thinking and reflecting and realizing just how far I've come. Two years ago, I was anxious about spreading her ashes. I cried a lot that evening in anticipation of how that final goodbye would go. I had no idea how liberating it was going to be and how that Pi Day would be the first day where I felt unchained from my sorrows. One year ago, I was still sad about all those milestones I missed during her first year, I still cried a bit, but I was proud of myself for how much emotional healing I had done. I was pregnant and still anxious, and I wasn't quite ready for Pi Day. This year, there are no more tears. I'm not fooling myself--there's still a small lump in my throat--I do wish she was here and that I could celebrate her birthday. I was thinking about it a lot tonight. If Miri was alive, I wouldn't be typing now. I would be blowing up balloons. I would be hanging streamers. I would be wrapping presents. I would be scrambling around the house trying to locate that rogue roll of Scotch tape that I know we have but has gone missing just at the wrong time. And as I'm searching, I would be having a conversation with my husband (who by the way, would tell me that I was crazy for going all out with the balloons and streamers) about how the decorations ARE important and I don't care if she won't have any memories of going to bed in a normal room but waking up to a fully decorated birthday surprise. I would explain to him that it would be fun for her and it would set the tone for her special day. But I'm doing none of that tonight. She's not alive.
My life has gone down a different path. And that's okay. Even though I feel like I can see just what could have been as if it were, I'm not lamenting the fact that that isn't my life. I am truly happy with where my life has ended up. I love Annalie. I love that I got the chance to meet her and raise her. I love that my kids are 4 years apart, not two and a half. I love that our loss brought my husband and I closer together. I love the new friendships I have made. I love the wisdom I have gained. I love the perspective on life that I now have.
And this year, I set my alarm to go off slightly early so I can make it to the store and buy some pies for my math class tomorrow. I'm going to celebrate Pi day with a nod to the birthday that almost was.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Friday, January 10, 2014
Two Year Update
Those 18 months of my life were such an emotional roller coaster. I did a lot of crying (both from sadness and happiness). I can gladly say that I'm back to a more even-tempered state now. My life isn't consumed with difficult thoughts or anxiety anymore. I'm happy...deep down to the bottom of my heart. Today makes two years and it feels like a good time for an update...Some people might think that this second anniversary would be hard, maybe not as difficult as the first, but still not an easy day. I braced myself for it by flying to Denver again so I wouldn't be "alone" (again, my parents are in Hawaii and my husband is working), but really, I don't think it would have even mattered this year. I am fine. I am happy. And, as I always tell my husband, the day someone dies is not as important of a day to commemorate as some of the other days in their lives.
I still think about Miri every day. Literally every day. But I'm not mourning her anymore. It doesn't make me feel sad when I think about her. I'm not wishing for all the experiences that I am missing by her not being here. It's just a loving thought in passing. Sometimes I see a friend's child whose birthday is within days of what Miri's would have been and I wonder what she would be like at that same age, I smile, and then the moment is over. Sometimes it is when a friend makes it through her 31st week of pregnancy, and I breathe a small sigh of relief for her. Mostly, though, my thoughts come when I see Annalie doing something that I don't know if I would have truly appreciated had it not been for losing Miri. When I think about her in these moments, it's all about how grateful I am that she taught me so much, because I know that I am truly appreciating Annalie with each new milestone that she reaches and I am taking nothing for granted with her. And sometimes the thought is just, "Hmmm...I haven't thought about Miri today." Which then of course means I just thought about her. Since Annalie was born, there was one day in October where she wasn't even a fleeting thought in my head. I realized it the next day, and it actually didn't bother me at all. It means that I am healing. Life moves forward, not backwards, and I've got plenty of things to look forward to. I'm sure there will be more of those days as the years pass, and that's as it should be.
Annalie just turned 6 months old. She's happy, healthy, and an amazing baby. I couldn't ask for more...I feel like I won the kid lottery with both my girls. Now that it's been 6 months, I can say with certainty that I'm not taking anything child-related for granted. I'm not giving in to that second-child syndrome so many mothers fall into where I've "been there, seen that, done it before" with Whitney, so it's not quite as special the second time through. And that's a gift that Miri gave not only to me, but to Annalie as well. I am thoroughly enjoying watching her grow and learn. I have taken pictures and movies every time she does something new and sometimes for no reason other than I want to remember what our everyday life is like. I must admit that I'm not 100% cured of the second-child syndrome...she is getting short-changed on the baby book. I was diligent keeping up with it for Whitney's first year, but Annalie hasn't had one entry yet after her first month. It's not due to a lack of enthusiasm about her or her milestones. It's more that I've been documenting her life via texts and Facebook posts instead. She's definitely getting plenty of attention. Sometimes I worry that it's too much and I'm ignoring Whitney more than I should. Striking a balance of attention has been one of the biggest challenges I've faced so far. I'm doing the best I can, as every mother tries to do. I just hope it's good enough for both girls.
We held Annalie's Simchat Bat (a naming ceremony which welcomes her into the Jewish community) at our house this past December. We chose the Hebrew name Aviela Mira in honor of my great-uncle (the late husband of my aunt in Hawaii) whose Hebrew name was Aaron Yisrael, and after Miri. We had planned on naming Miri after my uncle, but never had the chance. I knew from the moment I found out I was pregnant that I wanted to honor Miri's short life in this way. I did think about picking someone other than my uncle to name Annalie after, but there wasn't anyone else I felt as strongly about, and it just seemed appropriate to keep their namesakes intertwined. Being able to do this was yet another level of closure for me, and it feels good knowing that Miri's spirit will be with Annalie, even if it is just in Jewish folklore.
Also, since my original blog posts, I have come to grips with some of the questions I didn't know how to answer previously, such as "How many kids do you have?" I have two children. If the conversation goes any further, I'll explain that I had a third (in between the two), but she didn't make it. It's not as important to go into details as it was a year ago. I am happy to talk about her--actually, I like sharing my experiences--but most people don't really want the whole story. I've decided that I'm not dishonoring Miri by not mentioning her. She's there in my heart, and she always will be. The question is typically phrased in the present tense. And presently, I have two living children.
Now that another year has passed and my life has moved on with Annalie, I actually feel quite removed from the loss. It seems like it happened so long ago. A lot of the details are growing fuzzy, making it feel more like a really bad dream. Some parts I had forgotten about completely until I reread what I had written before posting it. The pain and mental/emotional anguish has subsided, and really what is left over are the life lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. I definitely wouldn't want to go through losing Miri again--that was the hardest thing I've ever experienced--but I've gained so much from having lost her. I look at things differently. Annalie has a much better mother than Miri would have had. It's not that I wouldn't have loved Miri or delighted in her milestones, but I now realize how wonderful and precious and fragile life really is. I know that it can all go in a blink of an eye, and I am so lucky to get to experience all the blessings that both my girls will give me, and if it wasn't for Miri, I don't know that I would truly in my heart understand this. Her death caused me to feel such utter sorrow and grief, but without those, I wouldn't have had such an amazing delight in Annalie's life. Recently, I was talking to a friend about this very thing. I told her to cherish each pregnancy and all the feelings you have...all the kicks, pains, aches...enjoy your daughter or son and realize that every little thing this child does is just as exciting as your first. Every milestone is a blessing. For you, it's not the first time for anything, but it just might be the last time for everything. And really, the same goes for once that child is born too. And this wisdom, to me, is priceless.
I still think about Miri every day. Literally every day. But I'm not mourning her anymore. It doesn't make me feel sad when I think about her. I'm not wishing for all the experiences that I am missing by her not being here. It's just a loving thought in passing. Sometimes I see a friend's child whose birthday is within days of what Miri's would have been and I wonder what she would be like at that same age, I smile, and then the moment is over. Sometimes it is when a friend makes it through her 31st week of pregnancy, and I breathe a small sigh of relief for her. Mostly, though, my thoughts come when I see Annalie doing something that I don't know if I would have truly appreciated had it not been for losing Miri. When I think about her in these moments, it's all about how grateful I am that she taught me so much, because I know that I am truly appreciating Annalie with each new milestone that she reaches and I am taking nothing for granted with her. And sometimes the thought is just, "Hmmm...I haven't thought about Miri today." Which then of course means I just thought about her. Since Annalie was born, there was one day in October where she wasn't even a fleeting thought in my head. I realized it the next day, and it actually didn't bother me at all. It means that I am healing. Life moves forward, not backwards, and I've got plenty of things to look forward to. I'm sure there will be more of those days as the years pass, and that's as it should be.
Annalie just turned 6 months old. She's happy, healthy, and an amazing baby. I couldn't ask for more...I feel like I won the kid lottery with both my girls. Now that it's been 6 months, I can say with certainty that I'm not taking anything child-related for granted. I'm not giving in to that second-child syndrome so many mothers fall into where I've "been there, seen that, done it before" with Whitney, so it's not quite as special the second time through. And that's a gift that Miri gave not only to me, but to Annalie as well. I am thoroughly enjoying watching her grow and learn. I have taken pictures and movies every time she does something new and sometimes for no reason other than I want to remember what our everyday life is like. I must admit that I'm not 100% cured of the second-child syndrome...she is getting short-changed on the baby book. I was diligent keeping up with it for Whitney's first year, but Annalie hasn't had one entry yet after her first month. It's not due to a lack of enthusiasm about her or her milestones. It's more that I've been documenting her life via texts and Facebook posts instead. She's definitely getting plenty of attention. Sometimes I worry that it's too much and I'm ignoring Whitney more than I should. Striking a balance of attention has been one of the biggest challenges I've faced so far. I'm doing the best I can, as every mother tries to do. I just hope it's good enough for both girls.
We held Annalie's Simchat Bat (a naming ceremony which welcomes her into the Jewish community) at our house this past December. We chose the Hebrew name Aviela Mira in honor of my great-uncle (the late husband of my aunt in Hawaii) whose Hebrew name was Aaron Yisrael, and after Miri. We had planned on naming Miri after my uncle, but never had the chance. I knew from the moment I found out I was pregnant that I wanted to honor Miri's short life in this way. I did think about picking someone other than my uncle to name Annalie after, but there wasn't anyone else I felt as strongly about, and it just seemed appropriate to keep their namesakes intertwined. Being able to do this was yet another level of closure for me, and it feels good knowing that Miri's spirit will be with Annalie, even if it is just in Jewish folklore.
Also, since my original blog posts, I have come to grips with some of the questions I didn't know how to answer previously, such as "How many kids do you have?" I have two children. If the conversation goes any further, I'll explain that I had a third (in between the two), but she didn't make it. It's not as important to go into details as it was a year ago. I am happy to talk about her--actually, I like sharing my experiences--but most people don't really want the whole story. I've decided that I'm not dishonoring Miri by not mentioning her. She's there in my heart, and she always will be. The question is typically phrased in the present tense. And presently, I have two living children.
Now that another year has passed and my life has moved on with Annalie, I actually feel quite removed from the loss. It seems like it happened so long ago. A lot of the details are growing fuzzy, making it feel more like a really bad dream. Some parts I had forgotten about completely until I reread what I had written before posting it. The pain and mental/emotional anguish has subsided, and really what is left over are the life lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. I definitely wouldn't want to go through losing Miri again--that was the hardest thing I've ever experienced--but I've gained so much from having lost her. I look at things differently. Annalie has a much better mother than Miri would have had. It's not that I wouldn't have loved Miri or delighted in her milestones, but I now realize how wonderful and precious and fragile life really is. I know that it can all go in a blink of an eye, and I am so lucky to get to experience all the blessings that both my girls will give me, and if it wasn't for Miri, I don't know that I would truly in my heart understand this. Her death caused me to feel such utter sorrow and grief, but without those, I wouldn't have had such an amazing delight in Annalie's life. Recently, I was talking to a friend about this very thing. I told her to cherish each pregnancy and all the feelings you have...all the kicks, pains, aches...enjoy your daughter or son and realize that every little thing this child does is just as exciting as your first. Every milestone is a blessing. For you, it's not the first time for anything, but it just might be the last time for everything. And really, the same goes for once that child is born too. And this wisdom, to me, is priceless.
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