Back to the Grind, Eventually

Even though I haven't been to work since January 4th, every Sunday I get the same sinking feeling in my stomach. Tomorrow is Monday - a workday. One day soon, this feeling will be warranted. I have to go back to work eventually.
For Brad, that day is tomorrow; for me, it's supposed to be Thursday. Though we have the same benefits, his HR lady is not on the same page as mine. Brad should still get three days of bereavement leave for Spyder's death, but she doesn't seem to understand that. So, tomorrow he starts back, having to leave our baby girl for the longest period of time yet.

I think his going back to work is harder on me than my imminent return.

It's not that he dislikes his job; he enjoys it. But, I have never seen him as happy as he is when he holds Poppy. And she looks so peaceful in his arms. It is a sight that I needed to see after we both suffered so much from losing Spyder. I can't stand the idea that he now has to be away from Poppy, even for a short period of time. I know it has to happen, and I know everything will be fine, but it still makes me sad.

Poppy and Daddy

Poppy is so comfy with Brad.

As for me, I will go back to the grind soon, too. My job is good, despite the drama and petty personnel games to which no office is immune, but I am not ready to be away from the little one either. I think my problem is two-fold. First, I feel an impenetrable guilt for not being a stay-at-home mom like my sisters-in-law and own mother and second, returning to work is a concrete "next chapter in life" point.

As far as being a working mom, it comes down to not having much of a choice. We have a house to pay for and a finished basement to pay off, not to mention we now have someone to put through college in 18 years! Brad and I both had moms who stayed home with us, and we have good relationships with them and the rest of our families. Will Poppy feel as connected to me as I did to my mom? Will she develop and learn as well as Brad and I did? Will we be able to teach her to love the things we love? My mind can be put partially to rest because in my Baby 411 book I found an article cited from Huston and Aronson in a 2005 edition of Child Development finding that the quality of time a parent spends with his or her child is more influential on the child's development than the quantity of time spent. Phew! Now that I've found the answer I wanted, I will stop researching the subject . . .

The bigger, more selfish issue is that I am not ready to turn the page in our crazy story. I am still learning how to be a mom, only having had Poppy home for two weeks now. I am also still deeply mourning the loss of our son. Going to work is acknowledging that I have to get my life back to normal, to start a new routine by which we'll live for the next 18 years. I don't want to do that yet. I don't want a new normal. I want to be alone with Brad and our baby. I want to sit and mourn and learn and heal.

One thing I do know for sure. When I go back to the office, the things that used to get under my skin won't bother me as much anymore. I won't sweat the drama or the inequity. I have been to Hell and back. Nothing my bosses or coworkers say or do to me will ever compare to the past two months of my life.



Bad Days

Today is another bad day. Usually, I wake up fine, jumping out of bed to get a bottle ready for Poppy. But, once I make it to the shower, the emotions show themselves. I think it's because I am finally alone and not worrying about another task. I just start crying for Spyder.

For some reason, today I can't cheer back up. I try to comfort myself by cuddling Poppy, but on days like this I feel like she doesn't want me. She seems so much happier with Brad. Maybe that is because he isn't depressed.

I'm not worried that I have post-partum depression. I am functional and can recognize my bad days. I just have a lot of bad days.

The Best Birthday Ever

Today is my birthday. I got the greatest gift of all this year- my baby girl is home with me.

We brought Poppy home from the NICU last Saturday. I admit that I was truly terrified as the patient service assistant wheeled her out of the secured area, down the elevator, and to the front door of the hospital. It felt like four weeks of nurses and doctors, anxiety and smiles, setbacks and progress had passed in the blink of an eye.  All that waiting was worth it.

Brad and I loaded our tiny baby into the car and headed away from the hospital for the last time.

Poppy cuddles with her Grammi at our house!

At the NICU, Poppy was on a pretty strict schedule, and we are supposed to try to maintain that. So, on Saturday night, we got to give her a bath all on our own. For the first time, I felt like I was taking care of my own baby.

Yes, it's Rubbermaid - but it's straight from the hospital . . .

Of course, Poppy's homecoming was bittersweet. We should have brought home two babies. Everything we had prepared should have been doubled, and we should be twice as tired. But, Spyder is never coming home. It is very, very clear to me now. It is the "three of us" from here on out. But we will always find ways to celebrate him!

My first Pandora charm. Thank you, Brad!

Yes, I Would

A few weeks ago, before my babies' births, I wrote about wondering if I would do this all again if I knew how it would turn out. I wasn't sure that I would.

I have loved more than I knew possible. I have endured the physical pains that inaugurate you into motherhood. And I have suffered the greatest sadness.

Now that I have lived through pain, joy, and uncertainty, I know my answer really is Yes.

Yes, Spyder is gone from this world. Our families suffered from his death. Poppy has spent more than three weeks now in the NICU; we don't know when she'll actually come home. I am still physically recovering from a tough delivery and waiting on the medical bills to start rolling in. But, I would never trade that hour I had with my son for anything, and every time I look in Poppy's eyes, I know this was all worth it.

Poppy Jean brings joy when I need it most.

Moving Forward

There comes a day when you finally begin to move forward from a great loss. I haven't yet reached that day.

It was three weeks yesterday since the twins were born. For three weeks, Poppy has been a pampered Grant Medical Center NICU resident. For three weeks, I have missed the feeling of holding my little son. For three weeks, I've wondered when things will get better.

Yesterday a representative from my doctor's office called to do a postpartum survey. She asked about the babies' names, whether I'm breastfeeding, and if I've suffered from any depression. I answered, "Well, my son died and my daughter's in the NICU, so I can't really tell. But, I still get out of bed in the morning, so I guess I'm doing as well as I can." I got the response I'm becoming accustomed to: silence followed by "Oh, I'm so sorry."

I still cry everyday. I think about Poppy growing up without her brother, and I can't help but wonder how she will feel about being the "surviving twin." For now, I can vividly remember the warmth of Spyder's body as I held him close to my heart, but I am terrified that someday I will forget how that felt. I stare at his picture and wish I would know what he would look like when he grew up. There are so many ways in which I am sad.

But, sometimes, my tears are happy ones. Poppy is healthy and happy and developing beautifully and safely even if she isn't at home. Her nurses and doctors take excellent care of her. I can hold her close to me whenever I want (or whenever Brad will surrender her!). And I will know what Spyder would have looked like - there is so much of him in his sister. He will live through her and her story.

Often, we can see Spyder's face in Poppy's.

Maybe there isn't a day when you suddenly decide you can move forward with your life. Maybe it is a process - a long, dichotomous process filled with peaks and valleys on which you someday look back and see how far you've come.

Prepping for Poppy

While I was in the hospital, one of the things that bothered me most was that I could not get the house ready for little Poppy. We had her room painted - a happy shade of green - and we bought her crib and dresser, but that was it. Everything was still in boxes.

Thankfully, Brad and I have great families. Brad's parents came down to clean and prepare our house while my parents came and kept me company. His brother and sister-in-law, Kris and Melanie, came down for a weekend and worked wonders on our home. They assembled the crib and dresser, washed all of Poppy's clothes, and helped put the finishing touches on her room. The only thing missing is her!

Poppy's room awaits her arrival!

Now we are likely days from Poppy's homecoming, and we've realized we still aren't ready! We've been spending so much time at the hospital, that we haven't bought all the essentials for her. We still need a baby monitor, mirrors for the car, and most importantly bottles and nipples. Our plan is for one of us to make the dreaded trek to Babies 'R' Us tomorrow while the other hangs with the 'Popster.' We'll finish out our shopping at Target for her Neosure supplement and preemie diapers.

Of course, we thought we had more time to prepare... but Poppy had different plans.

My Letter to Spyder

Spyder's funeral was the most awful thing I've ever endured. No matter the child's age, no parent should ever have to mourn the loss of a son or daughter. The Reverend read this letter that I wrote to Spyder:

My Dear Son,

I will never be happier than the day you were born. For one short hour, our family was complete. You and your sister are the most precious things that your daddy and I have ever had.

I will never be sadder than I am now, saying goodbye to you.

But, you have an important job to do, Mr. Spyder. We need you to watch over your sister. You did such a good job of taking care of her before you were born that I know you’re up for the task. She will be lonely without you. She’ll know that she’s missing you. When she gets scared or feels alone, please stay close to her.  Be her hero.

As for your daddy and me, we miss you so much already. If it were possible, I would have kept you safe inside of me forever, but I couldn’t.  I had to let you go. I wish I had a lifetime to show you my love, but I had only an hour. I hope you felt it. I will live my life to honor you.

Be listening for me – I will never stop talking to you. I will never stop thinking of you, and I will never stop loving you.  You are my hero, little Spyder.

Until I can hold you in my arms again, be strong and be at peace.

Love always and forever,

Mommy