A Funny Thing

A couple days ago, I was messing around on Facebook. Just looking at pictures and things that my friends had posted. A couple friends had posted pictures of their sons. They are both in the 4 year old range and adorable kids. I had a strange feeling of longing. A pang of sadness. A stab of anger. Why?

Usually, I have tried to avoid pictures of the babies, now toddlers, that had been born around the same time as Phineas. I know quite a few, actually, and they are mostly boys. It's getting easier, but there are still moments I wonder. But why had these pictures affected me so?

I longed for my son, for the boy he'd be becoming. Now, as his younger brother is starting to become a proper little boy, I know we are well past babyhood for both of them. I don't have the sadness I did when I was around small babies that I did for a long time. I can see them and marvel in them. There is no rage of jealousy or anger that their parents got what I didn't.

We watched a show last night where people were discussing their lives and a couple people had suffered significant losses in their lives. Of course, one of them had lost a baby boy at birth. Like that mother, our loss has caused me to examine myself more, to cherish more.

Nate and I sometimes say how enamored we are with our little Frederick, and why that is. Why is our connection so powerful, even stronger than when the girls were babies? It's not him, though, it's Phineas. We treasure all of our children much more since we have lost. Sometimes I just sit and gaze at my children, trying to soak in every bit of them, counting moments. I know there are only so many for each of us. I think this is the essence of what loss has done to us.

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A Good Day

Saturday was Phineas's birthday. I struggled to think of what to do for his day. I have seen things that other people have done and it just didn't feel like me. I asked Nate what he thought and he just said, "let's try to have a happy day". Okay.

At the last minute, Cecily was invited to her little friend Noah's birthday party. I took the girls and they played at the park and I talked a bit to Noah's mom. She told me that she used to work as a NICU nurse when I told her about Phineas. We had a good conversation. We then went to get ice cream and the kids played some more.

We went home and got ready to go to the cemetery. The girls hadn't been for quite awhile, but they remembered about cemeteries when we went to a couple when my parents visited last summer (apparently I have ancestors buried in Connecticut near Massachusetts). Cordelia made a card and wrote a note and drew some pictures for her brother. We drove over and the girls saw their brother's "rock". It was suddenly getting colder so we made a pretty quick trip.

But not without a picture of all my babies together, more or less.

Then we went and had dinner, Freddie flirted with people at the table next to us and we just enjoyed each others' company. We picked up a cake for our boy that we had at home.

All in all, a peaceful day. It was a good day.

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Our Guy

On Saturday, our little boy turned one! Frederick is just an incredible boy. He has been so easy and such a joy, and as Cordelia said, "the perfect baby for our family!" Indeed. Fred is a charmer. He is an observer and a flirt. He is quick to smile, slow to cry and adores the circle of family around him. He is crawling all over, not walking yet, which is fine by me. I know, I am gushing, I can't help it.

He has indeed helped to heal our hearts a bit. Having these wonderful kids has made me such a blessed woman and I am forever grateful.

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Counting Up Counting Down

On Saturday, Frederick will be one year old. (How did that happen?) Three Saturdays after that, it will be Phineas's should be 2nd birthday. I have been counting down to these dates for a couple months. These two March babies, their existence so intertwined.

In the early days, I remember counting the days beyond his birth, beyond his passing. One day, three days, twenty. Soon, it became weeks, I don't think I got much past ten, but every Friday would sneak up as a reminder that I had lived another week without him. And so, it goes. Months were what I counted and when I reached the horrible time that was 18 months since his birth, I stopped. Then I started to countdown to two years. Here we are now, a matter of days away and slowly, slowly, his life and death is starting to weave itself into our everyday lives. I read this piece today and pondered whether I had crossed into mourning. I think I have. Please, go read it, it's really good.

Tonight Nate switched some photos over to my computer from his and among them were the pictures we took of him. They did not paralyze me, they even made me smile a bit. My son, my son. I thought of how he might look now. How he would look similar and different to his siblings. How he'd fit in. My arms don't ache like they used to, they are usually full, but there are moments, many, when I wish I had a toddler to snuggle.

Now, I must figure out how to honor him properly on his day, to help our growing girls to know about their brother. I am working on it. Struggling some days, succeeding others. I feel heartened that I can do it, that I will be a good mother to him and all his siblings. The counting up and counting down will never stop, his time and the present growing further apart. I am holding him close, though, now and always.

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