Archive for October, 2009


More Musings…

October 30, 2009

My son is 4.5 years old. Last night he said, “I think No-wah is still a baby”. I said, who’s Noah. No he said, No-rah (he slurs his r’s sometimes). I looked at him and said “yes, she is a baby angel.” My daughter, who is 6 just laughed, and said “you can’t have a baby angel”. Can you? Are there baby angels?  I know there are baby souls out there but I don’t think they sit on a white cloud in diapers. I found a note my daugher wrote to Norah the other day. She had placed in the highest location in the house that she could reach. By standing on our bed, she could reach the top of the window. I suppose she was trying to get it as close to Norah as possible.


The other day I mentioned Norah’s middle name in a post. After I posted it, I realize that I spelled it wrong. What kind of Mom does that?  I can’t spell my daughter’s middle name. It is Clare NOT Claire. Uggghh. I suck.


The Present

October 25, 2009

Well my faithful 3 readers, I’m sorry to have been so silent. As the time that Norah passed approaches, I am becoming more introspective. I have been focusing on the event, the funeral, and the burial, remembering each moment. My grief for my daughter is intertwined with the grief of losing my mother 5 months later. I have also been remembering that event, the funeral, and the burial. Thankfully, the shock carried me through both times but by looking back, I can see that I was acting mechanical. I did what was expected of me at each point. Only now can I feel the emotion of these deaths and that emotion stays with me. I dream of my Mom, of Norah, of my failures, of my regrets. I brood and think. My life continues to move forward but part of me is still there with Norah and it always will be. In the coming weeks, I can only see myself moving more inward. I want to apologize in advance. I have a hard time articulating what this is like but know that I’m here.


Pregnancy and Infant Loss and Awareness Day

October 15, 2009

Oh my sweet Norah, it has been almost two years. My heart still aches for you. I feel you near only to reach for you and realize, once again, that your physical body is not here. I remember you every day. Not an hour goes by when I don’t think of you. I remember you with love, peacefulness, and a sense of regret. I regret that you are not in our lives sharing every day with your family. I wish that I could have willed you to live. I wish that I would known that something was wrong and got you here safely. I wish….

Your death has taught me that love runs very deep and is not bound to this earth. Your death taught me to be the most compassionate person I can possible be. Your death has taught me the depth of grief and sadness. I would give up these teachings and return to my shallow self if only I had you here.

So, today I remember you Norah Claire. I remember you everyday but my heart is with you today. I will light a candle at 7 p.m. today for you and all your baby friends whose parents are also missing them.

Love, Mom



October 8, 2009

I’m going to have a brain dump on here right now. On September 28 and 29, I drove back and forth to Louisiana — 7 hours each way for a conference. I had to prepare the talk and give it the next morning. I spent a grand total of 2 hours at the conference and had to drive back to be home to put the kids to bed. It seemed like such a waste but I needed to fulfill my committment.

After I finished that trip, I immediate worked on the next essential task. My tenure and promotion package was due October 1, so all non-essential thoughts and writings and activities were delayed until I got the package in. After I submitted it, I spent a week trying to dig out from the workload that I created and I’m still doing it. I hope I get tenure but I will still live if I do not. I haven’t given it that much thought — it is a necessary hoop that I have to jump through in academia. I pulled an all nighter, an honest to goodness all nighter the night before it was due. I felt like a college kid again, although my body did not respond well. I did sleep an hour from 5:30 am -6:30 am and then got up to take my daughter to school. I was OK the day after but the day after that, I was totally useless but unable to nap to make up the sleep. I think I’ve recovered, a week later.


For those of you who are baby lost mom’s I’m going to talk about pregnancy right now so you may want to stop reading.

I got an u/s on Tuesday to try and pinpoint a due date. The OB insists on using my LMP which would make it May 5 but I know that I didn’t get pregnant on that regular cycle. If I use a more responsible ovulation date, I get May 10. The u/s gave a date of May 10 but my OB won’t change the May 5th date. There was a heartbeat and maybe really tiny arms and legs but mostly, baby still looked like a bean. 

I am really going to have to work on acceptance at some point. I know it is hard to read this if you have struggled with infertility or have lost a baby but I am still struggling with the gift we have been given. It is not the logistics of a new car or more baby years but more the fact that I am so tired now, every night I fall asleep totally exhausted after speaking maybe 20 minutes to my husband. I get overwhelmed trying to imagine another baby in the house. I know that I have my older kids, and they are a huge help watching and entertaining my littlest one right now. But no one can help me with a baby. My husband does the best he can but the care of a baby falls to me. I think it is the full one year committment that has me overwhelmed. I have field work that needs to be completed, students that need to get work done, and I’m exhausted. Those things won’t happen. I will only be surviving day to day again. With my littlest one being 10 months now, she is only waking twice a night and I can see the end to the babyhood madness. But, now I won’t get a break, I’ll go into another one (hopefully because as we all know, carrying a baby full term doesn’t necessarily mean you get to bring it home). And I desperately want to bring this one home too but I’m tired thinking about it. I’m hoping this is first trimester exhaustion but I have a feeling it is going to stay around another 1.5 years. I have absolutely no right to complain, I had a full term baby after Norah and she is alive and healthy and awesome. Now, I am trying to accept our new gift and challenge. I think this is going to be a gradual process.


On another baby note, I look pregnant. I’m wearing sweatshirts and baggy clothes to try and cover it but when I carry my little one around, which is all the time, my shirt pulls and I have bump. My belly button already sticks out at 9 weeks. I’m not certain how long I can *hide* the bump. I am so dreading the comments “Another one?” “Don’t you know how this happens” “What are you thinking” and my colleagues will roll their eyes and think of the work that they have to take on. But, you know, I’ve had 3 kids while here and I have not taken any time off. NONE. I have had a few professor cover possible 2 weeks of classes after Norah died. So, they can just SUCK IT!  I work as hard as I possibly can and I hate the double standard. I do the same amount of work at this university as a professor who goes home to a stay at home wife and pats his kids on the head. I am the Mom and that means that the extra special cuddles and care come from me, the reading, the conversations — I won’t ignore my kids. I know, a slight tangent, but I’m a little ruffled about academia right now, must be the tenure decision.


I’ve babbled on enough. Norah’s death month is next month and I’m already starting to focus on that. I’m going to try to make the 10 hour journey to where she is buried at Thanksgiving. Plans are not set yet.