Where do we go from here?

I have a conundrum. I stared this blog partly due to peer pressure. I posted about everyday events, funny stuff and things I was interested in. Then Phineas died, and i became a blog mostly about him. Now that we have Frederick, I feel like I have moved to another chapter. I am not sure what this chapter is. Post baby death, post rainbow baby birth. I know that I should just post about what I want and it should be fine. I am hesitant. I am likely overestimating my readership, since I barely post and when I feel moved to do so, I write about my dead son, but I feel sensitive about who is reading. I am protective of my own feelings and more concerned of others as well, because I have hurt others through this blog.

So, where do I go from here?

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Here, there and everywhere...

It all starts simply enough. I am horribly behind on laundry. Seriously, I have been way behind for months. There are too many clothes. The girls clothes need sorting. What to keep, what to toss, and the storing of off season clothes now that winter will be settling in in a matter of just a couple weeks.

There are mountains of clothes waiting to be washed. Loads waiting to be folded and put away. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy a shirt. The shirt. The one I wore when he died. A grey blue half sleeve, flowy thing my husband's sister had given me. I think I wore it because it fit.

Oddly enough, I have been able to wear it since. It hasn't bothered and teased me like the outfit I chose for his funeral. They had a singular purpose and have not been touched since. I want to get rid of it, though something just makes me stop.

This time, spotting that blue top about knocked the wind out of me. In my head, the lyrics of John Lennon's song went through my head. The song that I sang so quietly to my little boy when I held him once in the NICU, "beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy..."

In that moment, I just panicked. I struggled to think of him, the way that his soft skin felt under the heating element on his bed. I worried that I was losing him. I hadn't shed a tear for him in many days.

I was getting so mixed up, my little fiery boy and his baby brother. Their existence so interconnected and weaved together through fate and circumstance. I have a baby. He is magic for us. But I have another, one who came and went so quickly I can't reconcile it to reality sometimes.

And then I wonder. And worry. Is it enough? What is right? How should I remember my boy? Am I OK? Nearly 20 months have passed and the world moves on, farther away each second. Am I lingering too long?

I have to remind myself that he's fine, that I will see him again. But I also wish him to be here. The constant struggle in my head about being his mother without him.

This is where my mind goes at the sight of a blue shirt.

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The Place Where He Lived

This is something that has been waiting in my brain for awhile. I took this picture when I was 38 weeks, 5 days pregnant with Phineas. It would be another couple weeks before he was born, barely lived, and died. It all happened so quickly. A flash, really. A couple weeks is nothing in life.

A week after this, I was whining and complaining about being pregnant. Wah, wah, wah. I feel ashamed to admit it. I was big. Phineas just felt different, always changing position which was not the most comfortable thing. I ached all over and had a bit of anxiety over the impending home birth. I just wanted him there. Pre-labor had begun and most women who are pregnant can attest to what a mind game it is, wondering when labor will well and truly start.

Lately, I have had several women in my life complaining and complaining about being pregnant. I know it may sound hypocritical, but frankly, it annoys me. I know it's just me. I have a different perspective. I don't expect people to be the happy and carefree pregnant woman I was the first go around, nor do I expect people not to ever complain. Pregnancy is hard and not always the most blissful experience.

I just want women to stop and think for a moment.

To savor what moments they can. The only time I truly believe that Phineas was alive was when I carried him. I wish that I had cherished it more. Remembered his idiosyncrasies and the way he would stretch and shift. To remember what his possible future might have held.

Life is so fleeting. It slips through your fingers and you wake up and realize your child is headed off to school. You never know what kind of time you have. Several years ago, after feeling unwell one evening, my cousin suddenly passed away. He left his wife and young children. Others in the babylost world are well versed in how things can turn from just fine to not suddenly.

This is a reminder for myself as much as anyone, to savor the moments in life with the ones you love. Cherishing your children, even before they are born. Thankfully, most babies are born healthy and robust, children grow to adulthood without much trouble. But still. Still. It should not be taken for granted.

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Just putting this right here...

I grew up on music that my sisters loved. The Eurythmics were heard quite often and I have been a fan of Annie Lennox ever since.

Only since becoming a babylost mother did I discover that Annie Lennox was one as well. In 1988, her son, Daniel, was stillborn. I have rediscovered her music and under the veil of baby loss, her music sounds so different. Themes of loss are common (she also lost both parents to cancer).

I just wanted to share, and just because I love her music anyway.

This song has long been a favorite of mine, and the lyrics really speak to me at this moment:

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