Saturday, December 28, 2013

"Everything's gonna be alright"

Three years ago, four days before Chiron was born, I blogged about how my iPhone was sentient.

While Broken will always be associated with that time, that pregnancy and Chiron and Aurelia, it is not "his song". All of my kids have a song that I associate with their infancy/late pregnancy. Chiron's is Lullaby by Shawn Mullins.

We are in Dallas for the holidays and the rental has actual iPod integration rather than just aux in, so I was playing them music from my phone. We had earlier discussed the girls songs, so when I heard the first chords of lullaby, I told them all that this was Chiron's song. I couldn't believe how completely I was taken back, and to two separate times:
1. Lying in the hospital between Aurelia's death and their birth
2. Standing beside him in the nicu.
The commonality between these was a desperate desire/conviction that everything would be alright when I had no way of knowing if it really would be. But I just had to believe.

I actually had tears falling down my face as I heard the repetition of "everything's gonna be alright... Rockabye."

It's something we all need to hear at times: "everything's gonna be alright... Rockabye."

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Monday, November 11, 2013

Veteran's Day - Life and Death

Who am I kidding, while I’ve talked about other things and claimed this to be a general blog, this has always been more about Aurelia than anything else. And specifically about me and my dealing with her life and death. And thus I'm here, not trying to fill in a missing year, or even reflect on any greater aspect of life, but just to reflect on where I am in my relationship with her and her life and death.

At first when I reflected on her, I really only saw the death. And I was angry.

I still see the death at times, and don’t get me wrong, I’m still angry, I expect I will always be, but I realized this morning that I’m seeing her life now more often than I’m seeing her death.

I’m seeing that she impacted people. From her name to her loss, she has changed the course of the world. Not in the great ways that we write epics about or that fill our history books, but in the simple ways that flow into the exquisite banalities of everyday life. From extra hugs given to children, to moment of frustration able to be delayed just a couple minutes more, she has impacted people. And the gift of her milk benefited babies whom I will never know, but whose lives may have been saved from NEC through the donation of “her milk”. The gift of my being able to connect to another mother experiencing this all too frequent happening. Trajan will never take the birth of a child as a certainty, and while I mourned for this a bit when I realized it, this also is a gift from Aurelia’s existence.

I received a number of texts and messages this morning from people who remembered that today is her day and hers alone. The day of their birth will always be both of theirs as the day of his NICU discharge will always be his. And for some reason one touched me differently and I realized that I had tears in my eyes, but they were not of sorrow, they were of joy. Joy that we are not the only ones who remember her.

The greatest gift I can be offered in Aurelia’s honor is not forgetting her.

I think part of seeing her life more means that when I woke up today, while I was acutely aware of the day as I have been in the past, my desire was to do something positive and celebrate her existence rather than just reflect on my hating Veteran’s Day. And I did.

I reached out to an acquaintance who experienced the stillbirth of a twin a year or so ago, to pass on the importance of not feeling unique, alone, and isolated in the experience. I sent a flower arrangement to my amazing OB who has spent over a continuous week with me in the last three years, and who has given of herself as not just a doctor, but as a person and as a friend with just a simple note of thanks. Not because it was needed, as I’m pretty sure she knows my appreciation of her, but just as a simple thing to make me smile in remembering Aurelia and the first person who ever touched her and did so with not just care in her movements, but true depth of emotion.

Aurelia Diane, you were named for the strongest woman from ancient history that I could think of (that Paul would agree to, he vetoed Hatshepsut, for which we should all be thankful) who impacted the course of history. While your ripples in the universe will not be known by name millennia from now, they are no less significant. You matter, my first baby girl.

Aurelia Diane, you have two sisters who both bear a first name beginning with an A in your memory and a powerful middle name we bestowed upon them in your honor. You have an oldest brother who remembers you always and has been the force in this universe who has most unabashedly kept your memory alive. And you have a twin who does not know you now, but will know you, and know the gift of time that you gave him.

Aurelia Diane, I promise to try to see your life more instead of your death. I promise to try to continue living the lessons you taught me and to continue to share them.

Aurelia Diane, I’m not sure I ever actually told you this in words, but I love you. 

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Still Alive!

We are still alive, but much has changed!  We actually moved to Northern Virginia at the very end of February to allow me to take a job in the DC area.  And with the move, we moved to having a nanny instead of sending the little three to daycare and she runs our whole household, so we are all happier and more productive!  Let's see, Chiron is 2.5, the girls just turned one, and in August, Trajan will be six.

The reason for actually thinking to blog today was the Washington Post gave me an option to reference a picture in a blog and that seemed like fun!  Apparently when we go to a water park it is newsworthy!

The Washington Post
Jul 16 2013

Other thought is I'm a year behind in my blog reading and I'm vaguely aware that apparently google reader doesn't exist anymore?!?!