Showing posts with label Jack. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jack. Show all posts
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Scabs
The Jackson Malia Fund's golf tournament is rapidly approaching. Please, check out his site if you're at all interested in our raffle - we have some great prizes this year. And we really need to sell some tickets!! LOL
I love having this charity because it keeps Jack 'alive' for me in a way. Especially this time of year when I find myself really having to spend some time working on it, I get to talk about Jack so much, think about him. See his picture. Remember him. Remember those three months. And I love it.
And I hate it.
It feels a little bit like it pulls the scab off the wound. It takes it all a little further out of my subconscious, more into my every day, every moment thoughts. It makes the ache stronger, the tears come quicker. It makes me daydream the 'what ifs?'
It makes me remember, and takes me back there.
I love having this charity, and I love what it does. But I miss Jack. I wish he wasn't a fund, or a charity, or a golf tournament, or a raffle.
I wish he was a happy, giggly, crazy two year old boy.
I just miss my Jack.
I love having this charity because it keeps Jack 'alive' for me in a way. Especially this time of year when I find myself really having to spend some time working on it, I get to talk about Jack so much, think about him. See his picture. Remember him. Remember those three months. And I love it.
And I hate it.
It feels a little bit like it pulls the scab off the wound. It takes it all a little further out of my subconscious, more into my every day, every moment thoughts. It makes the ache stronger, the tears come quicker. It makes me daydream the 'what ifs?'
It makes me remember, and takes me back there.
I love having this charity, and I love what it does. But I miss Jack. I wish he wasn't a fund, or a charity, or a golf tournament, or a raffle.
I wish he was a happy, giggly, crazy two year old boy.
I just miss my Jack.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Goodbye, again
I know I've written before about all the things I just knew I would never, never do once I had kids. Things like, oh say use a leash or bribe them with cookies or let them walk around with runny noses.
Top of my list was the fact that I was never, ever going to drive a minivan. I mean there was absolutely zero chance. Zero.
Until I found out I was pregnant with triplets (many many 'nevers' go out the window upon hearing that news.... chief among them the "I'm never having triplets!" one). And we realized that we needed a car that could hold three car seats. And that is a very limited type of automobile.
And so, almost exactly two years ago, we went and bought a minivan. Not just ANY minivan, mind you, but a USED KIA MINIVAN. That's right..... try to control your jealousy.
Somehow early on, the minivan earned the nickname Mr. Poop. I honestly can't even remember why though it did come from my husband. Yes, good Old Mr. Poop, my minivan.
Now we have decided to sell Mr. Poop. My mom just bought a new car and we are taking her old one (an Infiniti SUV, so a definite upgrade). The van is out in the driveway with a big "For Sale" sign in the window.
And I can't believe how terribly sad I am about it.
I remember very clearly the day we bought the van - I was about four months pregnant and the whole idea of triplets seemed so surreal, so hard to comprehend. Driving off the lot in the mini van certainly helped make it much more real. We were so happy that day, happy with our purchase, and excited at the thought that in a few short months we would be filling it up with three sweet babies.
Driving it while I was pregnant I would look in the rear view mirror and try and picture the babies that would someday be strapped in back there. One would have to go way in the back in the third row, and everyone would always say "Don't stick Jack back there!! Don't make him sit in the back because he's the boy!" And I would say I won't, I promise. They can all take turns. And then I thought, maybe he'll like it in the back... a little time alone, away from his sisters. A little peace and quiet.
Of course Mr. Poop never did get to carry three car seats, and that third row was never even really used. But it's still been a good car. It took my girls home from the hospital when they were so so tiny, being swallowed up by their car seats. It's gotten us safely around for almost two years. And it's been the very last 'triplet' thing we still had.
I can't tell you how many times I've looked in that rear view mirror since Jack died and tried to picture him there, sitting in his car seat, yes way in the back. Behind his sisters, another little blue eyed, fair haired baby. When the van goes, that vision, even if only in my mind, goes with it.
Goodbye Mr. Poop, thank you for two good years. Thank you for keeping my babies safe inside. All three of my babies.
And goodbye again Jack. I hate that over and over, we keep having to say goodbye.
Top of my list was the fact that I was never, ever going to drive a minivan. I mean there was absolutely zero chance. Zero.
Until I found out I was pregnant with triplets (many many 'nevers' go out the window upon hearing that news.... chief among them the "I'm never having triplets!" one). And we realized that we needed a car that could hold three car seats. And that is a very limited type of automobile.
And so, almost exactly two years ago, we went and bought a minivan. Not just ANY minivan, mind you, but a USED KIA MINIVAN. That's right..... try to control your jealousy.
Somehow early on, the minivan earned the nickname Mr. Poop. I honestly can't even remember why though it did come from my husband. Yes, good Old Mr. Poop, my minivan.
Now we have decided to sell Mr. Poop. My mom just bought a new car and we are taking her old one (an Infiniti SUV, so a definite upgrade). The van is out in the driveway with a big "For Sale" sign in the window.
And I can't believe how terribly sad I am about it.
I remember very clearly the day we bought the van - I was about four months pregnant and the whole idea of triplets seemed so surreal, so hard to comprehend. Driving off the lot in the mini van certainly helped make it much more real. We were so happy that day, happy with our purchase, and excited at the thought that in a few short months we would be filling it up with three sweet babies.
Driving it while I was pregnant I would look in the rear view mirror and try and picture the babies that would someday be strapped in back there. One would have to go way in the back in the third row, and everyone would always say "Don't stick Jack back there!! Don't make him sit in the back because he's the boy!" And I would say I won't, I promise. They can all take turns. And then I thought, maybe he'll like it in the back... a little time alone, away from his sisters. A little peace and quiet.
Of course Mr. Poop never did get to carry three car seats, and that third row was never even really used. But it's still been a good car. It took my girls home from the hospital when they were so so tiny, being swallowed up by their car seats. It's gotten us safely around for almost two years. And it's been the very last 'triplet' thing we still had.
I can't tell you how many times I've looked in that rear view mirror since Jack died and tried to picture him there, sitting in his car seat, yes way in the back. Behind his sisters, another little blue eyed, fair haired baby. When the van goes, that vision, even if only in my mind, goes with it.
Goodbye Mr. Poop, thank you for two good years. Thank you for keeping my babies safe inside. All three of my babies.
And goodbye again Jack. I hate that over and over, we keep having to say goodbye.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Unfailing Strength
God and I have not been getting along too well lately. I’m not sure if God is actually AWARE of our spat, maybe it’s all one sided anger at this point but I have been angry. I’ve been angry, on and off, for well over a year now. God could chime in with an “I’m sorry” or “You’re right, Megan…” once in awhile but no… I never hear from him.
I’ve felt overwhelmed by tragic stories lately. Stories like the one I wrote about the other day, the beautiful little twin girls with the awful disease. Stories like sweet Tuesday, who lost a brave battle with cancer at just a little over 2 years old (and who along with her twin sister shares a birthday with my babies, October 11th). Even stories like that of Caylee Anthony and Baby Grace. I read them and can’t let go of them. Can’t stop wondering WHY. Why?
Where was God, where was he when these little girls needed him? Why would he let these things happen?
Where was he when we needed him? When Jack needed him?
And I feel really, really angry.
Of course, then I hear about children who do get better. Read blogs where the baby is born so so sick, and actually improves! Goes home! Thrives! And I am so happy for that baby, for her family.
And I feel really really angry.
Because, why that baby? Why that family? Why not my Jack? Or Tuesday or Spencer or all the other 'lost' babies and children? Were their prayers better than ours? Did they deserve it more than we did? Did we not pray enough, believe enough? Love Jack enough? What? What is the answer?
I read these blogs praising Jesus, the ‘healer’, of COURSE he would save our baby, how could he or how could God ignore all these prayers, all these people who love our baby?
You know what…. It seems to me like he can.
Here is what I tell myself. Here is how I have to try and look at it, for my own sanity.
My baby was just much sicker than the baby who got better. That’s all it comes down to.
What is going to happen, will happen. God is not up there, picking and choosing who will get well and who won’t. Saying, hmmm, that’s some mighty good prayin’ going on over there, I think I’ll cure that kid. But not that other one, forget it – his mom keeps screwing up the rosary.
I think of God like your parents. They want to fix everything but they can’t. So when something happens that’s awful, they are there for you, they help you through. God is the one who helps keep you going. He is there when you think you are all alone. He is the one giving you the strength you didn't know you had.
Jack wasn't 'cured' but his suffering ended. And he was sent here for a reason. And we are all still going. We still love him and love each other and know that we will all be together again. And I guess, God has helped get us here. Because some days have really been a struggle.
When I left for college (a long, long LOOOONG time ago) my grandmother gave me a little prayer she had typed up on a piece of paper. I carried it around forever until I pretty much had it memorized. It sums up God to me.
"Be at Peace," by Saint Francis de Sales
Do not look forward in fear to the changes in life;
rather, look to them with full hope that as they arise,
God will lead you safely through all things;
and when you cannot stand it, God will carry you in His Arms.
Do not fear what may happen tomorrow;
the same understanding Father Who cares for you today
will take care of you tomorrow and every day.
He will either shield you from suffering or will give you the unfailing strength to bear it.
Be at peace then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.
I’ve felt overwhelmed by tragic stories lately. Stories like the one I wrote about the other day, the beautiful little twin girls with the awful disease. Stories like sweet Tuesday, who lost a brave battle with cancer at just a little over 2 years old (and who along with her twin sister shares a birthday with my babies, October 11th). Even stories like that of Caylee Anthony and Baby Grace. I read them and can’t let go of them. Can’t stop wondering WHY. Why?
Where was God, where was he when these little girls needed him? Why would he let these things happen?
Where was he when we needed him? When Jack needed him?
And I feel really, really angry.
Of course, then I hear about children who do get better. Read blogs where the baby is born so so sick, and actually improves! Goes home! Thrives! And I am so happy for that baby, for her family.
And I feel really really angry.
Because, why that baby? Why that family? Why not my Jack? Or Tuesday or Spencer or all the other 'lost' babies and children? Were their prayers better than ours? Did they deserve it more than we did? Did we not pray enough, believe enough? Love Jack enough? What? What is the answer?
I read these blogs praising Jesus, the ‘healer’, of COURSE he would save our baby, how could he or how could God ignore all these prayers, all these people who love our baby?
You know what…. It seems to me like he can.
Here is what I tell myself. Here is how I have to try and look at it, for my own sanity.
My baby was just much sicker than the baby who got better. That’s all it comes down to.
What is going to happen, will happen. God is not up there, picking and choosing who will get well and who won’t. Saying, hmmm, that’s some mighty good prayin’ going on over there, I think I’ll cure that kid. But not that other one, forget it – his mom keeps screwing up the rosary.
I think of God like your parents. They want to fix everything but they can’t. So when something happens that’s awful, they are there for you, they help you through. God is the one who helps keep you going. He is there when you think you are all alone. He is the one giving you the strength you didn't know you had.
Jack wasn't 'cured' but his suffering ended. And he was sent here for a reason. And we are all still going. We still love him and love each other and know that we will all be together again. And I guess, God has helped get us here. Because some days have really been a struggle.
When I left for college (a long, long LOOOONG time ago) my grandmother gave me a little prayer she had typed up on a piece of paper. I carried it around forever until I pretty much had it memorized. It sums up God to me.
"Be at Peace," by Saint Francis de Sales
Do not look forward in fear to the changes in life;
rather, look to them with full hope that as they arise,
God will lead you safely through all things;
and when you cannot stand it, God will carry you in His Arms.
Do not fear what may happen tomorrow;
the same understanding Father Who cares for you today
will take care of you tomorrow and every day.
He will either shield you from suffering or will give you the unfailing strength to bear it.
Be at peace then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.
That is it. What will happen, will happen. Try not to worry about it. You will get through it.... you will have the UNFAILING STRENGTH TO BEAR IT. You will. Whether you believe it is from God or Buddha or Tom Cruise even..... Maybe it is just from inside you, but you will have the strength to survive.
So enjoy today, love life. Keep going. Be at peace.
I know, easier said than done. But keep trying. I am. Still. I guess forever.
Our Wagie Ride for little Tuesday….
So enjoy today, love life. Keep going. Be at peace.
I know, easier said than done. But keep trying. I am. Still. I guess forever.
Our Wagie Ride for little Tuesday….
Friday, January 2, 2009
One Year
Words fail me today.
Thank you to everyone for all the notes and emails telling us you're thinking of Jack, and our family. They mean so much to all of us.
All we can really do today is remember our sweet boy also.
Jack, you are missed sweet boy, every single moment.
You are loved loved loved, forever and ever.
The hole you left behind seems to grow larger with each passing day.
You were here such a short time, and we treasure every moment we spent with you.
You were so beautiful and so brave.
You taught us so much, about courage, about strength, and especially about love.
You showed us how precious life is. How important it is to love fiercely.
So many people remember you, our tiny baby boy.
So many people miss you, some who never even met you.
We know you are with us, always. Watching out for your sisters.
You are a part of them.
We see you in their smiles, hear you in their laughter,
know you are nearby when their eyes light up and their already silly grins grow even bigger.
You were a gift to us, Jack.
Some day we will see you again, see that beautiful face and those sweet little boy hands,
and we will hold you and love you and never let you go.
We love you so much Jack.
Mommy, Daddy, Charlotte, Katie and all of your family who loves you forever
Thank you to everyone for all the notes and emails telling us you're thinking of Jack, and our family. They mean so much to all of us.
All we can really do today is remember our sweet boy also.
Jackson Philip Malia
October 11, 2007 - January 2, 2008
Jack, you are missed sweet boy, every single moment.
You are loved loved loved, forever and ever.
The hole you left behind seems to grow larger with each passing day.
You were here such a short time, and we treasure every moment we spent with you.
You were so beautiful and so brave.
You taught us so much, about courage, about strength, and especially about love.
You showed us how precious life is. How important it is to love fiercely.
So many people remember you, our tiny baby boy.
So many people miss you, some who never even met you.
We know you are with us, always. Watching out for your sisters.
You are a part of them.
We see you in their smiles, hear you in their laughter,
know you are nearby when their eyes light up and their already silly grins grow even bigger.
You were a gift to us, Jack.
Some day we will see you again, see that beautiful face and those sweet little boy hands,
and we will hold you and love you and never let you go.
We love you so much Jack.
Mommy, Daddy, Charlotte, Katie and all of your family who loves you forever
Monday, December 29, 2008
A 100% True Christmas Story
Another Christmas, come and gone. It was not the best, or the easiest holiday but it was still nice. The girls were happy and that's what really matters. We had our family over our house on Christmas Eve (and in turn infected half of them with the TYPHOID, unfortunately...)
and then on Christmas PJ had to work at the firehouse, so the girls and I went to my mom's.
After Christmas dinner at my mom's I took the girls to the firehouse to visit Daddy. On the way home they were both conked out in their car seats, so tired from a long day. I decided even though it was dark I should at least drive through the cemetery and visit Jack. I don't often go to the cemetery. I don't like it. I don't feel Jack is there, I don't like to think about his little body being buried in that ground, but i felt like i owed it to him to go on Christmas.
I felt such huge, huge sadness, thinking about my little boy, and where he is now... thinking about last Christmas, holding him in my arms, having him still here. I was stopped at the light to turn left onto the street where the cemetery is, crying, sobbing, missing my baby, dreading the cemetery....
When everything in the car started going off. All at once. My cellphone started ringing. A toy steering wheel I know I had turned off earlier started making noises..."Vroom! vroom!! We're here! Fill 'er up!" The navigational system that wasn't even on the windshield, was laying on the floor, kept saying "Lost satellite reception...." It scared the hell out of me. And then I said, okay Jack. You're here. I know, you're here. Thank you.
I turned down the street towards the cemetery, and it is a nice little cemetery, no gates to keep you out, no huge mausoleums, and i could see it up ahead, all lit up with little candles and luminaries people had left on their loved ones graves. And just before I reached it, the navigational system went off again. I don't know why. I had no destination set, it wasn't supposed to be sending me anywhere. But it told me to turn left at the next street...
The name of that street is Jackson Place. When we picked out his plot, we saw the street sign right across the way and couldn't believe it... we knew at that moment, it was the right spot.
"Turn left at Jackson Place, then turn left...."
So I did. I didn't go to the grave, though I could see it. I turned left, and headed home, with all three of my babies in the car.
and then on Christmas PJ had to work at the firehouse, so the girls and I went to my mom's.
After Christmas dinner at my mom's I took the girls to the firehouse to visit Daddy. On the way home they were both conked out in their car seats, so tired from a long day. I decided even though it was dark I should at least drive through the cemetery and visit Jack. I don't often go to the cemetery. I don't like it. I don't feel Jack is there, I don't like to think about his little body being buried in that ground, but i felt like i owed it to him to go on Christmas.
I felt such huge, huge sadness, thinking about my little boy, and where he is now... thinking about last Christmas, holding him in my arms, having him still here. I was stopped at the light to turn left onto the street where the cemetery is, crying, sobbing, missing my baby, dreading the cemetery....
When everything in the car started going off. All at once. My cellphone started ringing. A toy steering wheel I know I had turned off earlier started making noises..."Vroom! vroom!! We're here! Fill 'er up!" The navigational system that wasn't even on the windshield, was laying on the floor, kept saying "Lost satellite reception...." It scared the hell out of me. And then I said, okay Jack. You're here. I know, you're here. Thank you.
I turned down the street towards the cemetery, and it is a nice little cemetery, no gates to keep you out, no huge mausoleums, and i could see it up ahead, all lit up with little candles and luminaries people had left on their loved ones graves. And just before I reached it, the navigational system went off again. I don't know why. I had no destination set, it wasn't supposed to be sending me anywhere. But it told me to turn left at the next street...
The name of that street is Jackson Place. When we picked out his plot, we saw the street sign right across the way and couldn't believe it... we knew at that moment, it was the right spot.
"Turn left at Jackson Place, then turn left...."
So I did. I didn't go to the grave, though I could see it. I turned left, and headed home, with all three of my babies in the car.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Thinking of you
There are days when all I want is someone to say his name.
Not my husband, or my mom, or the people I know are thinking about him, missing him like I am missing him.
I want someone else, someone I don't expect, to bring him up. Days, weeks can go by where no one mentions him. No one. I know, as time goes on, it will be easier and easier to let him slip away.
It's not like he'll come up in conversation. "That Jack, he loved the Giants!" or "Jack always put the star on top of the tree....."or "Jack would have ordered the chocolate cake, he couldn't pass up chocolate, remember?"
No. We don't have those kinds of memories. We don't know who Jack would have been. What he would have loved. But he was still here.
Jack had the chubbiest little boy hands.
Jack had his mommy's nose.
Jack loved to be held.
Jack would grab on to your finger and hold on for hours.
Jack would fight to stay awake if he knew you were there.
Jack got to ride in a helicopter.
Jack had two sisters.
Jack was here.
I miss the world with Jack in it.
I know it takes courage to say his name to me. Say "I was thinking of Jack today...." Say "I know you must miss Jack." His name is like magic. Saying it brings him back into the world, even if for just a little while.
Of all the cards the girls received for their birthday, only one mentioned Jack. I didn't expect anyone to mention him, I'm not upset that people didn't. But the one that did, my sister-in-law's parents, meant so much to me. I love them for having the courage to mention Jack. They had written across the bottom, under the "Happy Birthday Katie and Charlotte!",
"We are thinking of Jack today too."
Thank you. Thank you for thinking of Jack today. Thank you for telling me when you do. Know if you are thinking of him, I am thinking of him. I am always thinking of him.
Not my husband, or my mom, or the people I know are thinking about him, missing him like I am missing him.
I want someone else, someone I don't expect, to bring him up. Days, weeks can go by where no one mentions him. No one. I know, as time goes on, it will be easier and easier to let him slip away.
It's not like he'll come up in conversation. "That Jack, he loved the Giants!" or "Jack always put the star on top of the tree....."or "Jack would have ordered the chocolate cake, he couldn't pass up chocolate, remember?"
No. We don't have those kinds of memories. We don't know who Jack would have been. What he would have loved. But he was still here.
Jack had the chubbiest little boy hands.
Jack had his mommy's nose.
Jack loved to be held.
Jack would grab on to your finger and hold on for hours.
Jack would fight to stay awake if he knew you were there.
Jack got to ride in a helicopter.
Jack had two sisters.
Jack was here.
I miss the world with Jack in it.
I know it takes courage to say his name to me. Say "I was thinking of Jack today...." Say "I know you must miss Jack." His name is like magic. Saying it brings him back into the world, even if for just a little while.
Of all the cards the girls received for their birthday, only one mentioned Jack. I didn't expect anyone to mention him, I'm not upset that people didn't. But the one that did, my sister-in-law's parents, meant so much to me. I love them for having the courage to mention Jack. They had written across the bottom, under the "Happy Birthday Katie and Charlotte!",
"We are thinking of Jack today too."
Thank you. Thank you for thinking of Jack today. Thank you for telling me when you do. Know if you are thinking of him, I am thinking of him. I am always thinking of him.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Wish
We were so ready for you (as ready as anyone can be who's having three babies).
Your crib was ready, waiting in the corner opposite your sisters (we knew you'd need some space from them!)
It was all made up with your pretty blue and white bedding, and the blanket with your name embroidered on it. There was a little blue stuffed dog in one corner, and a soft brown bear in the other.
Your drawers were filled with little boy clothes, a t-shirt that said "I LOVE MOMMY". There was already a firehouse toybox waiting for you, picked out by your Dad, filled with fire engines and everything a little boy could want.
There was a stroller made for three. A minivan ready for three little car seats. Three boppies all printed with three peas in a pod. Three high chairs in the garage, two purple and one blue bumbo waiting, just for you.
There were socks and hats and bibs and everything made just for a little boy, with puppies and baseballs and cars and every other boy thing you could imagine on them.
And there was SO MUCH LOVE for you, and Katie and Charlotte. Before you were even here there was so much love, this little house could barely hold it all, it was bursting at the seams.
And now, all the things we had are almost all gone. The clothes and toys have been given away. The stroller sent off with another nice family, the third high chair returned to the store.
The few things you wore, the blankets you slept on while you were in the hospital are here, packed away. Your crib is in the attic, lovingly put there by your Dad one sad Sunday, piece by piece. Your soft blue blanket sleeps with your mom every night, she holds it close and hopes to dream of you. Your sisters chew on your little stuffed dog and bear. Your grandmother is stitching your pretty blue and white bedding into pretty blue and white quilts for your sisters. And your blanket with your name embroidered on it went with you, wrapped around you when we said goodbye.
The love is still here though Jack, and that is the one thing I wish the most I could have given you... more and more and more love. We had a whole lifetime of love for you, we gave you as much as we possibly could but it goes on and on. I wish you could have felt the sun on your face, just once, touched the snow, swam in the ocean. Kissed your mom, hugged your sisters, laughed with your dad. Breathed in fresh cool air, all on your own.
I wish, even for just one night, you could have slept in that bed, in this house with all the love, along side your tiny sisters, in the room next to your mom and dad.
Your crib was ready, waiting in the corner opposite your sisters (we knew you'd need some space from them!)
It was all made up with your pretty blue and white bedding, and the blanket with your name embroidered on it. There was a little blue stuffed dog in one corner, and a soft brown bear in the other.
Your drawers were filled with little boy clothes, a t-shirt that said "I LOVE MOMMY". There was already a firehouse toybox waiting for you, picked out by your Dad, filled with fire engines and everything a little boy could want.
There was a stroller made for three. A minivan ready for three little car seats. Three boppies all printed with three peas in a pod. Three high chairs in the garage, two purple and one blue bumbo waiting, just for you.
There were socks and hats and bibs and everything made just for a little boy, with puppies and baseballs and cars and every other boy thing you could imagine on them.
And there was SO MUCH LOVE for you, and Katie and Charlotte. Before you were even here there was so much love, this little house could barely hold it all, it was bursting at the seams.
And now, all the things we had are almost all gone. The clothes and toys have been given away. The stroller sent off with another nice family, the third high chair returned to the store.
The few things you wore, the blankets you slept on while you were in the hospital are here, packed away. Your crib is in the attic, lovingly put there by your Dad one sad Sunday, piece by piece. Your soft blue blanket sleeps with your mom every night, she holds it close and hopes to dream of you. Your sisters chew on your little stuffed dog and bear. Your grandmother is stitching your pretty blue and white bedding into pretty blue and white quilts for your sisters. And your blanket with your name embroidered on it went with you, wrapped around you when we said goodbye.
The love is still here though Jack, and that is the one thing I wish the most I could have given you... more and more and more love. We had a whole lifetime of love for you, we gave you as much as we possibly could but it goes on and on. I wish you could have felt the sun on your face, just once, touched the snow, swam in the ocean. Kissed your mom, hugged your sisters, laughed with your dad. Breathed in fresh cool air, all on your own.
I wish, even for just one night, you could have slept in that bed, in this house with all the love, along side your tiny sisters, in the room next to your mom and dad.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
And I will be with you again.
Yesterday was such a nice day, we had our first Music Together class, then our first trip of the summer to our town pool. Both girls loved the water and were happy as clams.
And all I could think about, all day, was Jack. Six months ago today Jack died. Six months ago yesterday was the absolute worst day of my entire life, and I hope it holds that title forever. I hope I never have a worse day than that one. I still don't want to write about it, the last few days. My Jack, he suffered. I was there alone with him for two days, and I held him while he had attack after attack, not being able to breathe, turning blue. I won't ever forget that. When I feel like I can't stand it anymore that he is gone, I try and think of those moments, and how much he suffered, and how glad I should be that he isn't suffering anymore. Sometimes it helps, other times... I still selfishly want him here.
Six months ago today was the saddest day of my life, but it was peaceful, and I am still so grateful Jack didn't die on New Years Day, that awful day before.
When I thought about what to try and say here, it all felt so disjointed. I feel 100 different things every day about Jack. I still cry every day. I miss him in new ways every day. I am not angry, I am not depressed. I am sad for my baby, I am sad for his sisters, for his daddy, for his grandparents, but most of all I am sad for him.
Everything we do lately, I think how Jack is missing. I think how he should be there, how much better everything would be with him there, whether it's a trip to the pool or the baby's christening day. Katie and Charlotte are so amazing and beautiful and I love them more than anything in the world but there will always, always be someone missing. And it's a really huge hole he's left behind.
Today the girls had their first trip to the zoo, and it was a lovely day. I thought about Jack all day - I bought the girls stuffed monkeys at the zoo gift shop, and a little ball with a monkey's picture on it for Jack. We brought it over to him after we left the zoo, and of course on the way to the cemetery his song came on the radio... of course. Just to let us know he was there.
Hope you like the ball Jack. We miss you.
And all I could think about, all day, was Jack. Six months ago today Jack died. Six months ago yesterday was the absolute worst day of my entire life, and I hope it holds that title forever. I hope I never have a worse day than that one. I still don't want to write about it, the last few days. My Jack, he suffered. I was there alone with him for two days, and I held him while he had attack after attack, not being able to breathe, turning blue. I won't ever forget that. When I feel like I can't stand it anymore that he is gone, I try and think of those moments, and how much he suffered, and how glad I should be that he isn't suffering anymore. Sometimes it helps, other times... I still selfishly want him here.
Six months ago today was the saddest day of my life, but it was peaceful, and I am still so grateful Jack didn't die on New Years Day, that awful day before.
When I thought about what to try and say here, it all felt so disjointed. I feel 100 different things every day about Jack. I still cry every day. I miss him in new ways every day. I am not angry, I am not depressed. I am sad for my baby, I am sad for his sisters, for his daddy, for his grandparents, but most of all I am sad for him.
Everything we do lately, I think how Jack is missing. I think how he should be there, how much better everything would be with him there, whether it's a trip to the pool or the baby's christening day. Katie and Charlotte are so amazing and beautiful and I love them more than anything in the world but there will always, always be someone missing. And it's a really huge hole he's left behind.
Today the girls had their first trip to the zoo, and it was a lovely day. I thought about Jack all day - I bought the girls stuffed monkeys at the zoo gift shop, and a little ball with a monkey's picture on it for Jack. We brought it over to him after we left the zoo, and of course on the way to the cemetery his song came on the radio... of course. Just to let us know he was there.Hope you like the ball Jack. We miss you.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Rewrite
Right after Jack died, I thought, we will have another baby. We were meant to have three, we were ready for three.... we will have one more. PJ and I never officially said to each other since then no, we don't really want to do that anymore but I think it's sort of unspoken that we've changed our minds. Because, foremost among a multitude of reasons, we don't want 'another' - we want Jack. We don't want three, we want our triplets.
I kept thinking that what I really wanted was to be pregnant again, I long for that time, feel such intense nostalgia for all of it, even the swollen ankles and sleepless nights. I haven't been able to go through my summer clothes because all of them from last year are maternity, and just seeing them brings me right back to being pregnant with my babies, having Jack with me all the time. I thought, I want to be pregnant like a normal person, I want one baby, a normal birth, a baby who comes home with me.... but no, really I don't. I want my triplet pregnancy again. I want to do it one more time, my pregnancy with Jack and Charlotte and Katie, except different, better.
I can't let go of the thought that I WILL get another chance, as crazy as it sounds. I can't accept that Jack is really gone. My heart says oh I know, he's gone... for now. It's not forever! It can't be, that's impossible! There will be another chance, there's always a second chance, a do over, a happy ending.
Not to make light of this but I honestly feel like part of why I can't accept the idea of forever is television. My whole life I have loved and watched too much television, taken it all to heart and cared far too much about the people on it. And on television, nothing is forever. Bobby steps out of the shower. Willow brings Buffy back from the dead (and Angel too for that matter). Dylan's dad isn't really blown up on that boat, he's in the witness protection program! Even contestants voted off reality shows are brought back, given another chance.... there's always another chance, a loophole, a way out.
I daydream about it, how it will go. It's October 12th, 2007, the day after the babies are born, and I wake up from my drug induced stupor. I scream, are the babies okay? Is Jack okay? And yes, of course, they're small but fine. Ventilator? No one's on a ventilator! Jack breathes like a champ! What a terrible, awful dream. That crazy anesthesia! I say, I should have know it was a dream when Obama became the Democratic presidential nominee! And we all laugh.
And they wheel me down to the NICU, and I hold all three of my beautiful little babies, and Jack's sweet perfect face has no tube, no nothing on it, and I hear him cry, and breathe breathe breathe. The happy music plays, and we fade to black.
Scenes from next week.... the triplets come home! Hijinks ensue!! Special guest stars George Clooney as Megan's OBGYN and Justin Timberlake as the babies male nanny, Manny.
No, not really, of course. I just want the healthy babies part. I want my Jack. I want my do over, my second chance. I want my rewrite. I want my happy ending.
I kept thinking that what I really wanted was to be pregnant again, I long for that time, feel such intense nostalgia for all of it, even the swollen ankles and sleepless nights. I haven't been able to go through my summer clothes because all of them from last year are maternity, and just seeing them brings me right back to being pregnant with my babies, having Jack with me all the time. I thought, I want to be pregnant like a normal person, I want one baby, a normal birth, a baby who comes home with me.... but no, really I don't. I want my triplet pregnancy again. I want to do it one more time, my pregnancy with Jack and Charlotte and Katie, except different, better.
I can't let go of the thought that I WILL get another chance, as crazy as it sounds. I can't accept that Jack is really gone. My heart says oh I know, he's gone... for now. It's not forever! It can't be, that's impossible! There will be another chance, there's always a second chance, a do over, a happy ending.
Not to make light of this but I honestly feel like part of why I can't accept the idea of forever is television. My whole life I have loved and watched too much television, taken it all to heart and cared far too much about the people on it. And on television, nothing is forever. Bobby steps out of the shower. Willow brings Buffy back from the dead (and Angel too for that matter). Dylan's dad isn't really blown up on that boat, he's in the witness protection program! Even contestants voted off reality shows are brought back, given another chance.... there's always another chance, a loophole, a way out.
I daydream about it, how it will go. It's October 12th, 2007, the day after the babies are born, and I wake up from my drug induced stupor. I scream, are the babies okay? Is Jack okay? And yes, of course, they're small but fine. Ventilator? No one's on a ventilator! Jack breathes like a champ! What a terrible, awful dream. That crazy anesthesia! I say, I should have know it was a dream when Obama became the Democratic presidential nominee! And we all laugh.
And they wheel me down to the NICU, and I hold all three of my beautiful little babies, and Jack's sweet perfect face has no tube, no nothing on it, and I hear him cry, and breathe breathe breathe. The happy music plays, and we fade to black.
Scenes from next week.... the triplets come home! Hijinks ensue!! Special guest stars George Clooney as Megan's OBGYN and Justin Timberlake as the babies male nanny, Manny.
No, not really, of course. I just want the healthy babies part. I want my Jack. I want my do over, my second chance. I want my rewrite. I want my happy ending.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Trio
My two girls are so crazy about each other. This morning, I realized just how much. Katie slept later than Charlotte so they were off schedule... when Katie was napping, Charlotte was awake. And Charlotte whined and fussed the entire time Katie was asleep, she didn't want to play, didn't want a bottle, breakfast, me - nothing. When Katie woke up from her nap I put them in their high chairs, side by side, and Charlotte stared at her, smiling, laughing. They reached out and grabbed each other's hand and giggled. It was a glimpse of my future, the two of them closer with each other than even with me, and that's okay. It made me laugh and cry at the same time.
Because, there should be three high chairs, and three babies holding hands and loving each other more than anything in the world. I kept thinking, do you miss Jack, babies? Do you look for him too? Do you wonder where he is, when he is coming home...... do you remember him, remember when you were all together? I hope you do, in some small way, remember that time you were all together.
Yesterday it was 5 months since Jack died, and we had an appointment with Katie's cardiologist, two things that kept me up all the night before, tossing and turning, worrying and remembering. While I was getting dressed before Katie's appointment, I felt someone touch me on the back - I thought it was PJ but when I turned around no one was there. Maybe it was Jack saying, I'm coming with you. I'm always with Katie and Charlotte, always.
Katie's appointment went fine, nothing new really - everything looks the same. Problems are still there but her heart isn't looking stressed. The surgeon is supposed to call me Friday so we can talk about when to schedule her surgery this summer. The longer we go, the more I dread it. My sweet Katie - it is so easy to forget there is something wrong with her, my chubby happy girl.
Every month, I find a different way I miss Jack. Lately, it is for the girls. I can't stop thinking of what they've lost. I feel the hole that's left for them. I think of how different the dynamics of our family would be, how different it would be if they had a brother with them to turn to, take sides, be a boy in between two crazy girls.
The hotel we stayed at in Philly when Jack was at CHoP had a big college bookstore attached to it. One night right around Christmas, PJ and I walked over and bought some books to read to Jack. One of them is called "Just Like Heaven", and it is the sweetest book. I don't know how I even found it, I'd never heard of it before (though I always liked Mutts), but there it was.... I read it to Jack only a few times, as it was very hard to get through.
Now I try to read it to the girls almost every day, though honestly I've yet to get through it with them without bursting into tears. Tucked into the back of the book I have some pictures of Jack. After we read it, I show the pictures to them and say, this is Jack, your brother. He's in heaven, just like in the book. I hope Mr. McDonnell doesn't mind me putting the book here... I will take it down in a few days. But for today, it means so much to me, I have to share it.
Just Like Heaven by Patrick McDonnell
One day, Mooch sat under his favorite tree
and took a nap (as cats often do).
While he slept, a deep fog slowly crept in
and covered everything.
Mooch awoke.
He looked left and saw nothing.
He looked right and saw nothing.
Up, down, all around.... nothing.
Mooch wondered where he was.
Heaven....? he thought.
I must be in heaven!
Mooch wasn't sure what to do.
So he just sat still.
But after a while, he became curious
and set out to explore.
He felt cool dew on his little cat feet.
He smelled a sweet perfume
and heard music in the air.
Wow, thought Mooch. What a great place.
He walked past the playground filled with children's laughter.
He walked past the town filled with friendly neighbors.
He paused at his own house filled with the people he loved.
So this is heaven, thought Mooch.
Then Mooch came upon a big dog chained in a yard.
The big dog growled (as unloved dogs often do)
and let out a BIG BARK.
In the past Mooch would have gone all fuzzy with fear and run away.
But here and now, Mooch wondered,
What would you do in heaven?
So he opened his arms and said....
"HUG TIME!"
And they did.
Wow, thought Mooch. What a great place.
Mooch continued exploring
until he ended back at his favorite tree
and took another nap (as cats often do).
Slowly the fog lifted
and the sun shone through.
Mooch awoke
to find his best friend Earl sleeping under their favorite tree.
Wow, thought Mooch. What a great place.
Just like heaven.
Because, there should be three high chairs, and three babies holding hands and loving each other more than anything in the world. I kept thinking, do you miss Jack, babies? Do you look for him too? Do you wonder where he is, when he is coming home...... do you remember him, remember when you were all together? I hope you do, in some small way, remember that time you were all together.
Yesterday it was 5 months since Jack died, and we had an appointment with Katie's cardiologist, two things that kept me up all the night before, tossing and turning, worrying and remembering. While I was getting dressed before Katie's appointment, I felt someone touch me on the back - I thought it was PJ but when I turned around no one was there. Maybe it was Jack saying, I'm coming with you. I'm always with Katie and Charlotte, always.
Katie's appointment went fine, nothing new really - everything looks the same. Problems are still there but her heart isn't looking stressed. The surgeon is supposed to call me Friday so we can talk about when to schedule her surgery this summer. The longer we go, the more I dread it. My sweet Katie - it is so easy to forget there is something wrong with her, my chubby happy girl.
Every month, I find a different way I miss Jack. Lately, it is for the girls. I can't stop thinking of what they've lost. I feel the hole that's left for them. I think of how different the dynamics of our family would be, how different it would be if they had a brother with them to turn to, take sides, be a boy in between two crazy girls.
The hotel we stayed at in Philly when Jack was at CHoP had a big college bookstore attached to it. One night right around Christmas, PJ and I walked over and bought some books to read to Jack. One of them is called "Just Like Heaven", and it is the sweetest book. I don't know how I even found it, I'd never heard of it before (though I always liked Mutts), but there it was.... I read it to Jack only a few times, as it was very hard to get through.
Now I try to read it to the girls almost every day, though honestly I've yet to get through it with them without bursting into tears. Tucked into the back of the book I have some pictures of Jack. After we read it, I show the pictures to them and say, this is Jack, your brother. He's in heaven, just like in the book. I hope Mr. McDonnell doesn't mind me putting the book here... I will take it down in a few days. But for today, it means so much to me, I have to share it.
Just Like Heaven by Patrick McDonnell
One day, Mooch sat under his favorite tree
and took a nap (as cats often do).
While he slept, a deep fog slowly crept in
and covered everything.
Mooch awoke.
He looked left and saw nothing.
He looked right and saw nothing.
Up, down, all around.... nothing.
Mooch wondered where he was.
Heaven....? he thought.
I must be in heaven!
Mooch wasn't sure what to do.
So he just sat still.
But after a while, he became curious
and set out to explore.
He felt cool dew on his little cat feet.
He smelled a sweet perfume
and heard music in the air.
Wow, thought Mooch. What a great place.
He walked past the playground filled with children's laughter.
He walked past the town filled with friendly neighbors.
He paused at his own house filled with the people he loved.
So this is heaven, thought Mooch.
Then Mooch came upon a big dog chained in a yard.
The big dog growled (as unloved dogs often do)
and let out a BIG BARK.
In the past Mooch would have gone all fuzzy with fear and run away.
But here and now, Mooch wondered,
What would you do in heaven?
So he opened his arms and said....
"HUG TIME!"
And they did.
Wow, thought Mooch. What a great place.
Mooch continued exploring
until he ended back at his favorite tree
and took another nap (as cats often do).
Slowly the fog lifted
and the sun shone through.
Mooch awoke
to find his best friend Earl sleeping under their favorite tree.
Wow, thought Mooch. What a great place.
Just like heaven.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
And my heart is hurting
I hope everyone had a nice day, whatever the day meant to you. I never before realized how difficult Mother's Day is for so many people, so many women. To have healthy, happy children AND a happy healthy relationship with your own mother seems to be almost impossible.
I have both. And yet, I don't. I don't have my Jack.
I was honestly blindsided by how hard this day was, this whole weekend really. I didn't dread it. I thought, my first real Mother's Day. With my girls. It will be nice.
It wasn't.
This has been the hardest few days for me since Jack died. I cried, a lot. I feel raw and open and tired. Every single cell in me misses him. Every piece of me hurts. I started crying early this morning in a way I don't think I ever have, and thought I might not be able to stop, though eventually I did.
I don't know exactly why all of a sudden it is so hard again. I think for the first time I really feel like, I am a mom. I am Jack's mother. And I am not with him, I can't take care of him, I couldn't ever really take care of him, from the moment he was born. And no one in my real life, not even my husband who I know loves and misses Jack just as much as i do, can really understand that. What it feels like.
Every second of the last few days I have thought about Jack. He has been with me, I know. It started Friday morning.
Friday was a rainy, grey, terrible day. The phone rang pretty early in the morning and it was a very nice woman from some kind of Child Services office who wanted to follow up on how my triplets were. She said, let's start with Baby Boy C, I don't even have his name. Could you tell me his name and how he's doing?
Sure. His name is Jack, Jackson actually. And he died.
But I still cannot get that sentence out without crying, which I did, and the poor woman on the phone immediately started crying also, and we ended up talking and crying for awhile. She apologized over and over, and she told me if I need help with anything to call her. She told me about a program where the State will pay for Jack's medical bills if they total 10% of our income. I told her the only way that will happen is if we end up having to pay for his helicopter flight which we got a bill for months ago, but I thought it was all straightened out.
After I hung up, the girls went down for their morning nap and I stood in the shower and cried. I thought of our song, on this rainy day...
when the rain is falling down,
and my heart is hurting,
you will always be around,
this I know for certain.
I said Jack, please, let me know you're around, send me a sign, something, anything, please.
Not an hour later the doorbell rang, and it was a certified letter. Containing a bill for over $9,000 for Jack's helicopter ride to CHoP.
I said Jack, if this is your idea of a joke, you're not funny.
But as I thought about it I realized the bill wasn't Jack's sign... the phone call was. That kind woman who called an hour before and told me, if you need help, I am here. That was Jack. And the phone call came before the certified letter, so I knew already, the minute I opened it, don't panic. It will be okay.
I read something so beautiful on another blog, a brilliant blog by a woman who writes in a way I can only dream about. After her son died, a twin, she wrote that now his soul was back with her. And everything she did, she did with him, everything she saw, she saw for him, everywhere she went, she took him with her. That is exactly how I feel. Jack is back in me, back where he started. And he's in his Dad too, and his sisters maybe most of all. Everything the girls do, every first they have, Jack has with them. Every time I kiss them, hug them, comfort them, I do it for Jack too. That is the closest I can get to him. That is the best thing I can do for him. Live life, see everything, feel everything. Be happy. And love my girls.
The loving my girls part is easy. Happy 7 months my babies, all three of my babies. I love being your mom.
I have both. And yet, I don't. I don't have my Jack.
I was honestly blindsided by how hard this day was, this whole weekend really. I didn't dread it. I thought, my first real Mother's Day. With my girls. It will be nice.
It wasn't.
This has been the hardest few days for me since Jack died. I cried, a lot. I feel raw and open and tired. Every single cell in me misses him. Every piece of me hurts. I started crying early this morning in a way I don't think I ever have, and thought I might not be able to stop, though eventually I did.
I don't know exactly why all of a sudden it is so hard again. I think for the first time I really feel like, I am a mom. I am Jack's mother. And I am not with him, I can't take care of him, I couldn't ever really take care of him, from the moment he was born. And no one in my real life, not even my husband who I know loves and misses Jack just as much as i do, can really understand that. What it feels like.
Every second of the last few days I have thought about Jack. He has been with me, I know. It started Friday morning.
Friday was a rainy, grey, terrible day. The phone rang pretty early in the morning and it was a very nice woman from some kind of Child Services office who wanted to follow up on how my triplets were. She said, let's start with Baby Boy C, I don't even have his name. Could you tell me his name and how he's doing?
Sure. His name is Jack, Jackson actually. And he died.
But I still cannot get that sentence out without crying, which I did, and the poor woman on the phone immediately started crying also, and we ended up talking and crying for awhile. She apologized over and over, and she told me if I need help with anything to call her. She told me about a program where the State will pay for Jack's medical bills if they total 10% of our income. I told her the only way that will happen is if we end up having to pay for his helicopter flight which we got a bill for months ago, but I thought it was all straightened out.
After I hung up, the girls went down for their morning nap and I stood in the shower and cried. I thought of our song, on this rainy day...
when the rain is falling down,
and my heart is hurting,
you will always be around,
this I know for certain.
I said Jack, please, let me know you're around, send me a sign, something, anything, please.
Not an hour later the doorbell rang, and it was a certified letter. Containing a bill for over $9,000 for Jack's helicopter ride to CHoP.
I said Jack, if this is your idea of a joke, you're not funny.
But as I thought about it I realized the bill wasn't Jack's sign... the phone call was. That kind woman who called an hour before and told me, if you need help, I am here. That was Jack. And the phone call came before the certified letter, so I knew already, the minute I opened it, don't panic. It will be okay.
I read something so beautiful on another blog, a brilliant blog by a woman who writes in a way I can only dream about. After her son died, a twin, she wrote that now his soul was back with her. And everything she did, she did with him, everything she saw, she saw for him, everywhere she went, she took him with her. That is exactly how I feel. Jack is back in me, back where he started. And he's in his Dad too, and his sisters maybe most of all. Everything the girls do, every first they have, Jack has with them. Every time I kiss them, hug them, comfort them, I do it for Jack too. That is the closest I can get to him. That is the best thing I can do for him. Live life, see everything, feel everything. Be happy. And love my girls.
The loving my girls part is easy. Happy 7 months my babies, all three of my babies. I love being your mom.
Friday, May 2, 2008
How My Mind Works
(I'm riding in the car with both babies and they're sound asleep in their carseats.)
I really really want a coffee.
But I can only get coffee from a drive-thru... not taking these girls out of the car.
Where is there a drive-thru?
There's a McDonalds not too far.
Forget the coffee, I'll try their new Sweet Tea.
I love anything with the word sweet in it. Sweet potato. Sweet roll. Sweet Tarts.
Can't just get iced tea though. I'll get an apple pie too.
I haven't had a McDonald's apple pie in forever.
No, I had one at CHoP.
We ate a lot of Mickey D's at CHoP.
We ate a lot of McDonald's at St. Barnabas too.
We ate McDonald's the day the helicopter came to take Jack to CHoP. We brought the food up to the little family lounge in the NICU and ate it and watched out the window, waiting to see the helicopter fly in.
When they finally arrived, the team of doctors and nurses rushed around getting Jack ready, I was signing forms, PJ had to run downstairs and get copies of Jack's xrays.
As they were about to load Jack into his little carrier, one of the pilots made everyone stop what they were doing. He said "STOP!! Let mom kiss him goodbye."
And they all watched me as I walked over and kissed him and held his hand and said I'd see him in Philly. I told him he was going to ride in a helicopter to a wonderful hospital where they would make him all better.
Why didn't they make him all better?
Why can't I kiss him goodbye, just one more time.
How did I start thinking about this. Now I can't stop crying.
I really want a coffee.
I really want that day back, even just to say goodbye to Jack one more time.
All roads, they lead me back to Jack.
You're gone four months today Jack.
As cliched as this is, it's true.... I miss you more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow.
Every day, you feel further and further away from me.
And every day I miss you more.
I really really want a coffee.
But I can only get coffee from a drive-thru... not taking these girls out of the car.
Where is there a drive-thru?
There's a McDonalds not too far.
Forget the coffee, I'll try their new Sweet Tea.
I love anything with the word sweet in it. Sweet potato. Sweet roll. Sweet Tarts.
Can't just get iced tea though. I'll get an apple pie too.
I haven't had a McDonald's apple pie in forever.
No, I had one at CHoP.
We ate a lot of Mickey D's at CHoP.
We ate a lot of McDonald's at St. Barnabas too.
We ate McDonald's the day the helicopter came to take Jack to CHoP. We brought the food up to the little family lounge in the NICU and ate it and watched out the window, waiting to see the helicopter fly in.
When they finally arrived, the team of doctors and nurses rushed around getting Jack ready, I was signing forms, PJ had to run downstairs and get copies of Jack's xrays.
As they were about to load Jack into his little carrier, one of the pilots made everyone stop what they were doing. He said "STOP!! Let mom kiss him goodbye."
And they all watched me as I walked over and kissed him and held his hand and said I'd see him in Philly. I told him he was going to ride in a helicopter to a wonderful hospital where they would make him all better.
Why didn't they make him all better?
Why can't I kiss him goodbye, just one more time.
How did I start thinking about this. Now I can't stop crying.
I really want a coffee.
I really want that day back, even just to say goodbye to Jack one more time.
All roads, they lead me back to Jack.
You're gone four months today Jack.
As cliched as this is, it's true.... I miss you more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow.
Every day, you feel further and further away from me.
And every day I miss you more.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Good night
Sometimes it just hits you from out of the blue....
Sunday morning I was trying to send my sister-in-law a picture I had taken on my cellphone of Katie enjoying her sweet potatoes, but my cell kept giving me a message that my picture inbox was full, or something along those lines.
So I went through my inbox, starting way at the beginning, trying to weed out some pictures. At first they were all silly photos PJ had sent me from the firehouse, or pictures I had sent him of our poor cat, from back when he was still the baby of our household. And then, suddenly, it was all pictures of Jack, picture after picture, tons of them.
Many of them I remembered, had downloaded and looked at over and over, but some I had forgotten about. When any of us would go to Philly, we would send whoever was left at home pictures of Jack from our phone. I thought I had every photo of Jack completely memorized, I had looked at them all so much.... finding ones I had forgotten even existed was like finding a treasure, a gift, and yet it felt like it cracked my heart right open all at the same time. All day Sunday, and even today, I couldn't stop thinking about them. I felt so sad, I really just wanted to crawl into bed and hold Jack's soft blue blanket I sleep with at night, and cry. And cry and cry and cry.
Two of them in particular I don't think I'd seen since the day they were sent to me.... my aunt had gone down to Philly and spent two days with Jack, just sitting with him and talking to him, something for which I am eternally grateful. I don't remember the exact date, it was late December I think.... I know it was towards the end, when we all knew Jack was not doing well, even if none of us wanted to say what we knew was coming.
Under the one of him sleeping, she had written "Good night mom and dad".
Good night, my sweet Jack.
I miss you.
Sunday morning I was trying to send my sister-in-law a picture I had taken on my cellphone of Katie enjoying her sweet potatoes, but my cell kept giving me a message that my picture inbox was full, or something along those lines.
So I went through my inbox, starting way at the beginning, trying to weed out some pictures. At first they were all silly photos PJ had sent me from the firehouse, or pictures I had sent him of our poor cat, from back when he was still the baby of our household. And then, suddenly, it was all pictures of Jack, picture after picture, tons of them.
Many of them I remembered, had downloaded and looked at over and over, but some I had forgotten about. When any of us would go to Philly, we would send whoever was left at home pictures of Jack from our phone. I thought I had every photo of Jack completely memorized, I had looked at them all so much.... finding ones I had forgotten even existed was like finding a treasure, a gift, and yet it felt like it cracked my heart right open all at the same time. All day Sunday, and even today, I couldn't stop thinking about them. I felt so sad, I really just wanted to crawl into bed and hold Jack's soft blue blanket I sleep with at night, and cry. And cry and cry and cry.
Two of them in particular I don't think I'd seen since the day they were sent to me.... my aunt had gone down to Philly and spent two days with Jack, just sitting with him and talking to him, something for which I am eternally grateful. I don't remember the exact date, it was late December I think.... I know it was towards the end, when we all knew Jack was not doing well, even if none of us wanted to say what we knew was coming.
Under the one of him sleeping, she had written "Good night mom and dad".
Good night, my sweet Jack.
I miss you.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Tears
We went to the memorial service yesterday. I still am unsure if I'm glad I went or not. I guess I am still processing how I feel about it.
Sometimes I think I am different from everyone else. I feel like, I don't grieve like 'normal' people. I do not like to be made to cry, I never have. I hate tear jerker movies, Beaches and Terms of Endearment and all those kinds of films, I feel manipulated by them. That's the best way I can explain how I felt yesterday.
I cry for Jack. Every.single.day. And every day, it's something different that makes me cry. It's the corner of the nursery where his crib used to be. It's the sight of a little boy marching in the St. Patrick's day parade. It's a picture of my two babies with this small, empty spot in between. It's Alica Keyes on the radio. It's PJ telling me how he had wanted to give Jack the nickname "Flapjack." It's a card in Target that says "To A Sweet Boy on his First Easter." It's a million things, it can be anything, it can be nothing.
I don't need help crying for my baby. I don't need to hear "Yesterday" played, I don't need to hear poems about empty arms and broken hearts. I don't need to pick at a wound that already hurts, for me it just makes it hurt more....
But that is me. The service was done very nicely, and it seems that for everyone else, it helped, and they are all glad they went. I did like seeing Jack's picture, huge, up on the screen, so sweet, with his name underneath, and his date of birth, and date of death. I want everyone to see him, the world to see him. He deserves that.
It was heartbreaking to see the other 56 children's faces up there too, one after the other. Each one took your breath away, knowing that child is gone, that family is hurting like we are hurting. Some families sobbed so loudly as their child's picture was shown, it was the saddest sound I've ever heard. It felt like, it was more picking at my wound.
I didn't sleep well last night, and all this morning I could not stop crying. Could not stop thinking about Jack, about CHoP, about things I had forgotten that going back had made me remember. But it wasn't all bad, really. I am glad to remember, I am glad to think of Jack.
And I am glad I went back to CHoP, if not to the service itself. It felt like we'd never left, and yet it felt totally different. It's not 'ours' anymore. The first few days Jack was there, we were so lost... we didn't know where anything was, where we were going, what we were doing. By that last day, we felt like regulars. We knew what was good to eat in the cafeteria, what was the best way to Jack's part of the NICU, who were the nicest girls at the front desk, where to get free cookies and crackers, where to do Jack's laundry, where to get our parking validated..... Going back, we weren't the lost new people, and we weren't the regulars, we were the veterans. Everything has gone on without us, and that's okay. That's how it should be.
Jack is not at CHoP anymore, and going back helped me accept that. He is not in that little bed by the window. He is not laying cold in that little bassinet, like the last time I saw him. He's not in Philly at all. He's here, with me. Every time Katie and Charlotte stare at what seems like nothing, the corner of the nursery where Jack's crib was, the lamp that's not even turned on, every time they smile when no one is even playing with them, every time they laugh for no reason, I know it's because they see Jack. He's home.
Like the butterfly who lights beside us
like a sunbeam -
for a brief moment
its glory and beauty
belong to our world -
but then it flies on again.
And though we wish it could have stayed
we are so thankful to have seen it.
-- from the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia Memorial Service, April 6, 2008
Sometimes I think I am different from everyone else. I feel like, I don't grieve like 'normal' people. I do not like to be made to cry, I never have. I hate tear jerker movies, Beaches and Terms of Endearment and all those kinds of films, I feel manipulated by them. That's the best way I can explain how I felt yesterday.
I cry for Jack. Every.single.day. And every day, it's something different that makes me cry. It's the corner of the nursery where his crib used to be. It's the sight of a little boy marching in the St. Patrick's day parade. It's a picture of my two babies with this small, empty spot in between. It's Alica Keyes on the radio. It's PJ telling me how he had wanted to give Jack the nickname "Flapjack." It's a card in Target that says "To A Sweet Boy on his First Easter." It's a million things, it can be anything, it can be nothing.
I don't need help crying for my baby. I don't need to hear "Yesterday" played, I don't need to hear poems about empty arms and broken hearts. I don't need to pick at a wound that already hurts, for me it just makes it hurt more....
But that is me. The service was done very nicely, and it seems that for everyone else, it helped, and they are all glad they went. I did like seeing Jack's picture, huge, up on the screen, so sweet, with his name underneath, and his date of birth, and date of death. I want everyone to see him, the world to see him. He deserves that.
It was heartbreaking to see the other 56 children's faces up there too, one after the other. Each one took your breath away, knowing that child is gone, that family is hurting like we are hurting. Some families sobbed so loudly as their child's picture was shown, it was the saddest sound I've ever heard. It felt like, it was more picking at my wound.
I didn't sleep well last night, and all this morning I could not stop crying. Could not stop thinking about Jack, about CHoP, about things I had forgotten that going back had made me remember. But it wasn't all bad, really. I am glad to remember, I am glad to think of Jack.
And I am glad I went back to CHoP, if not to the service itself. It felt like we'd never left, and yet it felt totally different. It's not 'ours' anymore. The first few days Jack was there, we were so lost... we didn't know where anything was, where we were going, what we were doing. By that last day, we felt like regulars. We knew what was good to eat in the cafeteria, what was the best way to Jack's part of the NICU, who were the nicest girls at the front desk, where to get free cookies and crackers, where to do Jack's laundry, where to get our parking validated..... Going back, we weren't the lost new people, and we weren't the regulars, we were the veterans. Everything has gone on without us, and that's okay. That's how it should be.
Jack is not at CHoP anymore, and going back helped me accept that. He is not in that little bed by the window. He is not laying cold in that little bassinet, like the last time I saw him. He's not in Philly at all. He's here, with me. Every time Katie and Charlotte stare at what seems like nothing, the corner of the nursery where Jack's crib was, the lamp that's not even turned on, every time they smile when no one is even playing with them, every time they laugh for no reason, I know it's because they see Jack. He's home.
Like the butterfly who lights beside us
like a sunbeam -
for a brief moment
its glory and beauty
belong to our world -
but then it flies on again.
And though we wish it could have stayed
we are so thankful to have seen it.
-- from the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia Memorial Service, April 6, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Three Months Gone
Jack's been gone three months. It hit me the other night, that he's been gone longer than he was here. He lived 82 days. Only 82 days. Not even 12 weeks. Just short of 3 months. The girls are twice as old as he was when he died.
I felt for so long like no one could ever understand what was happening to us, what we went through... and now, almost every day, I stumble upon a blog who's story is so similar to ours it breaks my heart. Babies lost, one of a set of twins or triplets. Lost after fighting for weeks, after being on vents, after having hope and then losing hope. Babies who's siblings survive and grow healthy. Women who rage against God at the same time desperately feeling they need him, need hope, need to hold on to the dream of there being some meaning to the short life of their child.
I find so many women who say what I feel, what I think, but so much more eloquently than I am able to. I don't know why I'm always surprised that this has happened to someone else. I lived in such a bubble my whole life, that bad things RARELY ever happened to anyone. Now I know. It happens every day. Life is unfair, every single day.
Sunday we are supposed to go to a memorial service at CHoP for children who died there in the last few months. When the letter originally came in the mail, I was excited, sent Jack's picture in for the slideshow, told everyone in the family we should go. Now that it's almost here - I am dreading it. I think of going and start to cry. The thought of that long drive down the Turnpike, pulling into the parking garage, riding on the elevator with the stars on the ceiling, walking past the gift shop and the McDonalds, the same path we traveled over and over..... but with no Jack at the end. I don't know if I can bear it. Everyone else wants to go, PJ, my mom. I know Jack would understand if I can't go. I am going to try, I can't stand the thought of not being there if the rest of my family is. But I dread it. I don't want to be there if Jack isn't there. Some days, I feel like I don't want to be anywhere if Jack isn't there.
---------------------
I need to do a "Gin In My Apron Pocket" update. I should do a self check of how my self esteem, self improving and general mental health is doing...
I did get that pedicure. Eyebrows have been tweezed. My hands are still terrible but I ordered an adorable ring from Mom-O-Matic that I'm sure will help them look a bit better. I still am eating WAY too much candy and cake and way too little real food, but I figure if my worst vice right now is a Tastykake, I'm doing okay.
As for the blaming myself over Jack, I'm working on it. I think now I wish we had an autopsy done, I would love some answers, some concrete final closure answer on what was wrong, and why, a piece of paper that in a way says, Megan - not your fault (or if it is, it is... I want to know) ..... when Jack died we couldn't even think about having an autopsy done on his poor little body.
I was looking at pictures from my Nestie baby shower the other day to see if I could find any I wanted to post with my last entry. It's a big step for me to even be able to look at pictures of myself pregnant. It's hard to even think about that time some days. But I looked through them for quite awhile, and it was nice to remember such an exciting, happy day.
And while I did have a lot of feelings of sadness at how much I wish I could go back to that day, at my little name tag that says "Mom of Triplets", at how excited we ALL were, I also could look at them and feel a little bit of the joy. And one of the overwhelming feelings I had looking at them was....
I miss my pregnancy boobs. I really do. They were great. Such a shallow thought. Definitely a step in the right direction. If, along with all the other emotions, every picture makes me think, wow, I really want a boob job - I must be feeling a little like my old self again.
(My apologies to all my family members reading this who I know want to neither discuss nor see photos of my boobs. Hi Dad!! Here's some cute pictures of the girls from yesterday after our trip to the mall with our friend Melissa to make up for it.)
I felt for so long like no one could ever understand what was happening to us, what we went through... and now, almost every day, I stumble upon a blog who's story is so similar to ours it breaks my heart. Babies lost, one of a set of twins or triplets. Lost after fighting for weeks, after being on vents, after having hope and then losing hope. Babies who's siblings survive and grow healthy. Women who rage against God at the same time desperately feeling they need him, need hope, need to hold on to the dream of there being some meaning to the short life of their child.
I find so many women who say what I feel, what I think, but so much more eloquently than I am able to. I don't know why I'm always surprised that this has happened to someone else. I lived in such a bubble my whole life, that bad things RARELY ever happened to anyone. Now I know. It happens every day. Life is unfair, every single day.
Sunday we are supposed to go to a memorial service at CHoP for children who died there in the last few months. When the letter originally came in the mail, I was excited, sent Jack's picture in for the slideshow, told everyone in the family we should go. Now that it's almost here - I am dreading it. I think of going and start to cry. The thought of that long drive down the Turnpike, pulling into the parking garage, riding on the elevator with the stars on the ceiling, walking past the gift shop and the McDonalds, the same path we traveled over and over..... but with no Jack at the end. I don't know if I can bear it. Everyone else wants to go, PJ, my mom. I know Jack would understand if I can't go. I am going to try, I can't stand the thought of not being there if the rest of my family is. But I dread it. I don't want to be there if Jack isn't there. Some days, I feel like I don't want to be anywhere if Jack isn't there.
---------------------
I need to do a "Gin In My Apron Pocket" update. I should do a self check of how my self esteem, self improving and general mental health is doing...
I did get that pedicure. Eyebrows have been tweezed. My hands are still terrible but I ordered an adorable ring from Mom-O-Matic that I'm sure will help them look a bit better. I still am eating WAY too much candy and cake and way too little real food, but I figure if my worst vice right now is a Tastykake, I'm doing okay.
As for the blaming myself over Jack, I'm working on it. I think now I wish we had an autopsy done, I would love some answers, some concrete final closure answer on what was wrong, and why, a piece of paper that in a way says, Megan - not your fault (or if it is, it is... I want to know) ..... when Jack died we couldn't even think about having an autopsy done on his poor little body.
I was looking at pictures from my Nestie baby shower the other day to see if I could find any I wanted to post with my last entry. It's a big step for me to even be able to look at pictures of myself pregnant. It's hard to even think about that time some days. But I looked through them for quite awhile, and it was nice to remember such an exciting, happy day.
And while I did have a lot of feelings of sadness at how much I wish I could go back to that day, at my little name tag that says "Mom of Triplets", at how excited we ALL were, I also could look at them and feel a little bit of the joy. And one of the overwhelming feelings I had looking at them was....
I miss my pregnancy boobs. I really do. They were great. Such a shallow thought. Definitely a step in the right direction. If, along with all the other emotions, every picture makes me think, wow, I really want a boob job - I must be feeling a little like my old self again.
(My apologies to all my family members reading this who I know want to neither discuss nor see photos of my boobs. Hi Dad!! Here's some cute pictures of the girls from yesterday after our trip to the mall with our friend Melissa to make up for it.)
Charlotte is such a character. The pose... the look on her face... I have a feeling, when she starts talking we're in trouble. I can't wait.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Stay Forever
No, I didn't win any money. OF COURSE. Seriously, you will never meet anyone who has worse luck than I do. But we still had a very good time, it was nice to get away, and I did get some great stuff at the outlets. I missed my girls though.
I was so happy to get home and see them, and it felt so good to be back with my babies, but all that night I couldn't stop thinking of Jack. I miss Jack. I miss him more than I missed the girls for one measly night.... what do I do about that?? How do I make that better? WHEN do I get to hold my Jack again??
I've been trying to start a separate site for Jack and his Fund, now that there is finally some action going on with it, plans are slowly being made, ideas being formed. I WILL get to it, soon, I just haven't found the time. Maybe if I give up sleeping and/or showering I could find a few spare moments, but I'm selfish and just not ready to take that step yet. ;)
There are a couple things I've been wanting to write about for awhile and thought I would post on Jack's site, but since I haven't gotten it really up and running, I will write it here before I forget, because they're really important to me.
First there is the story of the Stroller. Many people already know part of this story. Last summer the NJ Nesties threw me the most amazing baby shower, and a ton of them chipped in and bought us the Peg Perego Triplette Stroller. It was one of a multitude of incredibly generous things these women have done for my family, and I was so so touched by it, and THRILLED with this beautiful stroller. PJ put it together almost immediately, and we kept it in our living room for months so nothing would happen to it.
After Jack died, I am serious when I say the stroller was one of the things that I really worried about. It had been such a beautiful, generous gift and now, what would we do with it?? The thought of it going to waste broke my heart, but we could never return it, we had no packaging, nothing, and Target is notoriously terrible for accepting returns. My aunt called Target and was lucky enough to get a really kind woman named Buffy on the phone who, after hearing our story, told my aunt they would take the stroller back and send us a Target gift card for the full amount. I couldn't believe it.
But then I worried, how would we package and mail this gigantic stroller? The next day I got an email from Buffy saying Target wanted to make this as easy on us as possible. We did NOT have to return the stroller, and they would still send us a $1,000+ gift card (which they did... and we have been using to buy many many boxes of diapers, bottles of Neosure and cute Carter's outfits). They said to donate the stroller to charity. Incredible!
Then the dilemma became, who to give this stroller to? It's harder to find the right recipient than you'd think. I wanted someone who would use it, needed it, didn't just want to sell it. My mom found a couple through a friend who had an 18 month old boy, and now were expecting twin boys. He was also a firefighter in a local town, and they could definitely use the stroller. It was so perfect. They came a few weekends ago and picked up the stroller, and while it was hard to see it go, it made me so happy that they would use it, and they seemed like a really nice family. So lucky to be having three healthy boys.
And one of their twins is going to be named Jack. So a little Jack will get to ride in that stroller after all.
Second story - a very nice woman named Jennifer and her son Evan, who read my blog, were really touched when I wrote about the gifts Jack received at CHoP on Christmas from a local charity. Evan, who is obviously one amazing kid, decided he wanted to do something like that for kids at his local hospital. They organized a Toy Drive and recently dropped off a TON of new toys at Winthrop Hospital for all the children there, including a big beautiful doll house and fire station for the playroom, all in memory of my Jack. Look at all these toys (and handsome Evan dropping them off at the hospital):
I tried to tell Jennifer and Evan how much this meant to us, but words aren't really adequate. The thought that this little boy did all this means so much to me, that he did it in Jack's memory. He is one of the many many people that are keeping my Jack alive. Thank you Jennifer and Evan, and everyone who helped you and contributed to your toy drive. Those gifts that were given to Jack on Christmas meant so much to us, I will never forget the feeling of walking in Christmas night and seeing those little wrapped gifts sitting by his crib, waiting for him, letting us know he hadn't spent Christmas alone. I know you've done the same for so many other families... you've let them know, they're not alone.
And finally, Kimberly, the mom of gorgeous triplet girls, sent me an email asking if her family could do their annual March of Dimes walk this year in memory of Jack and in honor of Katie and Charlotte. Did she really need to ask? Of course!! I am so honored she would want to do this for my family. Thank you Kimberly, and your whole family. PJ and I are really touched you are doing this.
So those are my stories of "Jack" - the closest I can get to updates about Jack, I guess. Thank God for these people though, who like I said, help to keep my Jack alive for me. Like our song says, where he can stay forever... and he will. We won't let him go.
I was so happy to get home and see them, and it felt so good to be back with my babies, but all that night I couldn't stop thinking of Jack. I miss Jack. I miss him more than I missed the girls for one measly night.... what do I do about that?? How do I make that better? WHEN do I get to hold my Jack again??
I've been trying to start a separate site for Jack and his Fund, now that there is finally some action going on with it, plans are slowly being made, ideas being formed. I WILL get to it, soon, I just haven't found the time. Maybe if I give up sleeping and/or showering I could find a few spare moments, but I'm selfish and just not ready to take that step yet. ;)
There are a couple things I've been wanting to write about for awhile and thought I would post on Jack's site, but since I haven't gotten it really up and running, I will write it here before I forget, because they're really important to me.
First there is the story of the Stroller. Many people already know part of this story. Last summer the NJ Nesties threw me the most amazing baby shower, and a ton of them chipped in and bought us the Peg Perego Triplette Stroller. It was one of a multitude of incredibly generous things these women have done for my family, and I was so so touched by it, and THRILLED with this beautiful stroller. PJ put it together almost immediately, and we kept it in our living room for months so nothing would happen to it.
After Jack died, I am serious when I say the stroller was one of the things that I really worried about. It had been such a beautiful, generous gift and now, what would we do with it?? The thought of it going to waste broke my heart, but we could never return it, we had no packaging, nothing, and Target is notoriously terrible for accepting returns. My aunt called Target and was lucky enough to get a really kind woman named Buffy on the phone who, after hearing our story, told my aunt they would take the stroller back and send us a Target gift card for the full amount. I couldn't believe it.
But then I worried, how would we package and mail this gigantic stroller? The next day I got an email from Buffy saying Target wanted to make this as easy on us as possible. We did NOT have to return the stroller, and they would still send us a $1,000+ gift card (which they did... and we have been using to buy many many boxes of diapers, bottles of Neosure and cute Carter's outfits). They said to donate the stroller to charity. Incredible!
Then the dilemma became, who to give this stroller to? It's harder to find the right recipient than you'd think. I wanted someone who would use it, needed it, didn't just want to sell it. My mom found a couple through a friend who had an 18 month old boy, and now were expecting twin boys. He was also a firefighter in a local town, and they could definitely use the stroller. It was so perfect. They came a few weekends ago and picked up the stroller, and while it was hard to see it go, it made me so happy that they would use it, and they seemed like a really nice family. So lucky to be having three healthy boys.
And one of their twins is going to be named Jack. So a little Jack will get to ride in that stroller after all.
Second story - a very nice woman named Jennifer and her son Evan, who read my blog, were really touched when I wrote about the gifts Jack received at CHoP on Christmas from a local charity. Evan, who is obviously one amazing kid, decided he wanted to do something like that for kids at his local hospital. They organized a Toy Drive and recently dropped off a TON of new toys at Winthrop Hospital for all the children there, including a big beautiful doll house and fire station for the playroom, all in memory of my Jack. Look at all these toys (and handsome Evan dropping them off at the hospital):
I tried to tell Jennifer and Evan how much this meant to us, but words aren't really adequate. The thought that this little boy did all this means so much to me, that he did it in Jack's memory. He is one of the many many people that are keeping my Jack alive. Thank you Jennifer and Evan, and everyone who helped you and contributed to your toy drive. Those gifts that were given to Jack on Christmas meant so much to us, I will never forget the feeling of walking in Christmas night and seeing those little wrapped gifts sitting by his crib, waiting for him, letting us know he hadn't spent Christmas alone. I know you've done the same for so many other families... you've let them know, they're not alone.
And finally, Kimberly, the mom of gorgeous triplet girls, sent me an email asking if her family could do their annual March of Dimes walk this year in memory of Jack and in honor of Katie and Charlotte. Did she really need to ask? Of course!! I am so honored she would want to do this for my family. Thank you Kimberly, and your whole family. PJ and I are really touched you are doing this.
So those are my stories of "Jack" - the closest I can get to updates about Jack, I guess. Thank God for these people though, who like I said, help to keep my Jack alive for me. Like our song says, where he can stay forever... and he will. We won't let him go.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Get Your Irish Up
We took the girls to their first parade today, and of course it was FREEZING. I dressed them in cute little Irish outfits that no one got to see under their snowsuits and fuzzy hats...... But we still had a good time.
Miss Charlotte and the pipers (and Mom):
Miss Katie and the pipers (and Daddy and Grandma):
Miss Charlotte and the pipers (and Mom):
Miss Katie and the pipers (and Daddy and Grandma):
After the parade my parents were nice enough to take the girls for awhile so we could enjoy some good old Irish fun. I stayed out with friends, and even had a few cocktails (Bailey's on the rocks, yum). It was really nice to get out, but the thing that surprised me the most was how much I missed the girls after only a few hours. Walking in my front door and seeing Charlotte in her jumpy look up at me and give me a big grin was the best part of my day.
Me and my best friend (trying to relive old times....):
St. Patrick's Day is big for us. Since I was little it's been a big deal, my mom used to take us to the parade in NYC, and PJ and I both love the parades around here (I've even marched in a few, back in the day when I was fun, before I became the library card carrying dull old lady I am now). We met on St. Patrick's day, if it weren't for Irish High Holy day, there would be no Katie, Charlotte or Jack. We were excited to bring our kids to the parades someday. But today, honestly, my heart wasn't totally in it. We both felt the absence of Jack a lot today. We miss him so much.
It's funny, I've had this song stuck in my head all day, I didn't hear it on the radio recently, I don't know where it came from. But there it is....
"I try to say goodbye and I choke
Try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try and hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near...."
It was a nice day, but a little bit sad too. Maybe that's the best we can hope for right now.
Me and my best friend (trying to relive old times....):
St. Patrick's Day is big for us. Since I was little it's been a big deal, my mom used to take us to the parade in NYC, and PJ and I both love the parades around here (I've even marched in a few, back in the day when I was fun, before I became the library card carrying dull old lady I am now). We met on St. Patrick's day, if it weren't for Irish High Holy day, there would be no Katie, Charlotte or Jack. We were excited to bring our kids to the parades someday. But today, honestly, my heart wasn't totally in it. We both felt the absence of Jack a lot today. We miss him so much.
It's funny, I've had this song stuck in my head all day, I didn't hear it on the radio recently, I don't know where it came from. But there it is....
"I try to say goodbye and I choke
Try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try and hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near...."
It was a nice day, but a little bit sad too. Maybe that's the best we can hope for right now.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Had a Bad Day
Tuesday was a bad, bad day. I seriously had a few moments where I felt like, I can't do this. Find a daycare, I'm going back to work, because this is just too hard.
People always ask me, what do you do when both babies cry, and I jokingly answer, I cry too. Tuesday, that's what I did. I didn't know what else to do, and felt so awful that I just could not calm Charlotte down and keep Katie happy at the same time, that I sat and held them and we all cried. I'd say for close to an hour.
I'm still not sure what Charlotte's problem was, she's been very cranky since Monday night (though today she was a little better). She wanted NO PART of any item on the Fun Circuit, not even the new Jumperoo, and Katie wasn't much happier.
When it got really bad, I had to step outside for a minute. I left my two sobbing girls and stood on the backstep and cried. I said, Jack, please help us. I hate to ask you for things but please, help us today. Help us get through this grey, rainy, terrible afternoon.
And soon after that, Katie fell asleep, and I was able to concentrate on getting Charlotte calmed and we were back to okay.
Monday morning I went to a Mass that was said for Jack at Seton Hall Prep. It was really nice, but it sort of started me on a few days of really really missing him again, thinking about him constantly, going over everything that happened.
My Jack, my boy, I miss him so much. I might have handled everything better on Tuesday afternoon if I hadn't already been feeling sort of down. When I stood on the step talking to him, the weight on my heart of him not being here was so heavy.
Then that night we got a UPS package and inside was the most amazing gift.
My sister in law had given a donation to an organization that rescues dogs. They had done a 'run' with that money in honor of Jack. In the UPS package was a beautiful photo album they sent us with pictures of the sweetest little puppy... and this is what was written inside....
"Dear Megan and PJ,
In honor of a recent donation made to our organization in loving memory of Jackson Malia we have named a puppy pulled for rescue Jackson. We hope you enjoy the following photos of the puppy Jackson taken shortly after his arrival.
Here is his story....
Little Jackson and two of his litter mates were pulled for rescue on January 12th 2007. Jackson and 21 other puppies were transported to 4 Paws Animal Hospital in Georgia. There they were vetted, fed, loved and prepared for transport to NJ.
Jackson and 17 others arrived in NJ on February 10th. They were greeted by about fifteen 11th Hour volunteers. These 17 lost souls started their new lives that day.
Jackson was by far the cutest. He was a 15 pound puffball and he was FEARLESS. Shortly after he was pulled from the transport van he started romping around with all the other dogs. He took to Mack immediately, Mack was a 75 pound Great Dane mix.
Jackson was adopted 3 hours after he arrived in New Jersey by (I won't post their name). They were touched and honored by the story of how Jackson got his name. They vowed never to change it stating "Jackson's name will live with us forever as will his memory."
Here he is.... "
I opened that album, looked at the pictures and just sobbed. Thank you Jack. You fill my heart up every day without even being here.
People always ask me, what do you do when both babies cry, and I jokingly answer, I cry too. Tuesday, that's what I did. I didn't know what else to do, and felt so awful that I just could not calm Charlotte down and keep Katie happy at the same time, that I sat and held them and we all cried. I'd say for close to an hour.
I'm still not sure what Charlotte's problem was, she's been very cranky since Monday night (though today she was a little better). She wanted NO PART of any item on the Fun Circuit, not even the new Jumperoo, and Katie wasn't much happier.
When it got really bad, I had to step outside for a minute. I left my two sobbing girls and stood on the backstep and cried. I said, Jack, please help us. I hate to ask you for things but please, help us today. Help us get through this grey, rainy, terrible afternoon.
And soon after that, Katie fell asleep, and I was able to concentrate on getting Charlotte calmed and we were back to okay.
Monday morning I went to a Mass that was said for Jack at Seton Hall Prep. It was really nice, but it sort of started me on a few days of really really missing him again, thinking about him constantly, going over everything that happened.
My Jack, my boy, I miss him so much. I might have handled everything better on Tuesday afternoon if I hadn't already been feeling sort of down. When I stood on the step talking to him, the weight on my heart of him not being here was so heavy.
Then that night we got a UPS package and inside was the most amazing gift.
My sister in law had given a donation to an organization that rescues dogs. They had done a 'run' with that money in honor of Jack. In the UPS package was a beautiful photo album they sent us with pictures of the sweetest little puppy... and this is what was written inside....
"Dear Megan and PJ,
In honor of a recent donation made to our organization in loving memory of Jackson Malia we have named a puppy pulled for rescue Jackson. We hope you enjoy the following photos of the puppy Jackson taken shortly after his arrival.
Here is his story....
Little Jackson and two of his litter mates were pulled for rescue on January 12th 2007. Jackson and 21 other puppies were transported to 4 Paws Animal Hospital in Georgia. There they were vetted, fed, loved and prepared for transport to NJ.
Jackson and 17 others arrived in NJ on February 10th. They were greeted by about fifteen 11th Hour volunteers. These 17 lost souls started their new lives that day.
Jackson was by far the cutest. He was a 15 pound puffball and he was FEARLESS. Shortly after he was pulled from the transport van he started romping around with all the other dogs. He took to Mack immediately, Mack was a 75 pound Great Dane mix.
Jackson was adopted 3 hours after he arrived in New Jersey by (I won't post their name). They were touched and honored by the story of how Jackson got his name. They vowed never to change it stating "Jackson's name will live with us forever as will his memory."
Here he is.... "
I opened that album, looked at the pictures and just sobbed. Thank you Jack. You fill my heart up every day without even being here.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Catch-22
We took Jack's crib down yesterday. It was really hard. On the one hand, nothing could bring me to tears faster than the sight of that empty crib. It upset me more than anything else, more than Jack's clothes or blankets or any of the other hundred things that were here waiting for him. Every night I sit in the glider in the nursery for a couple minutes with each of the girls before I put them in their crib, and every night while I sit there holding them, I'd stare at Jack's crib, all made up and waiting for my baby that was never coming home, never going to sleep in it, and every night I'd end up sobbing. So it just had to come down.
But then the thought of taking it down, of it not being there anymore, made me feel just as terrible. So many things are a Catch-22 it seems. There are no good answers, no easy fixes. It's a matter of what will make us feel not quite as awful. The crib being gone has not actually made me feel any better. I still can't walk in the nursery without seeing it, thinking of the day we put the bedding on it, his pretty blue bedding with the blanket that had his name embroidered on it, the blanket we wrapped over him in his little white coffin and is now burried with him. The absence of the actual crib hasn't changed anything, except to somehow make the tiny little nursery feel so incredibly big and empty.
The girls and I had a lot of visitors today, two of their aunts and two cousins who had not gotten to meet the girls yet. It was a nice afternoon but the babies have been pooped from all the attention, they fell asleep right after everyone left at 5ish and have pretty much been asleep ever since, except for waking briefly to eat. It worries me. I see them waking up at 3am thinking it's morning.
They need their beauty sleep too because Monday is a BIG DAY. My friend Jess's husband is an amazing photographer and he's coming to take the girls pictures. I have spent all weekend agonizing over what they should wear and still haven't made a decision. I just spent an hour steaming the wrinkles out of many baby party dresses.... they're all so cute, which ones to pick? Do I dress them alike? Different? Should I do a casual look too? Should they wear shoes? Tights? Such a dilemma.
I did buy a small tiara yesterday for them because as everyone knows I love a tiara, but I didn't think about the fact that the girls still have almost no hair. The tiara just slides right off their heads. I was thinking of maybe using tape (or my aunt suggested false eyelash glue) but that might be a bit overboard. Tempting though.
But then the thought of taking it down, of it not being there anymore, made me feel just as terrible. So many things are a Catch-22 it seems. There are no good answers, no easy fixes. It's a matter of what will make us feel not quite as awful. The crib being gone has not actually made me feel any better. I still can't walk in the nursery without seeing it, thinking of the day we put the bedding on it, his pretty blue bedding with the blanket that had his name embroidered on it, the blanket we wrapped over him in his little white coffin and is now burried with him. The absence of the actual crib hasn't changed anything, except to somehow make the tiny little nursery feel so incredibly big and empty.
The girls and I had a lot of visitors today, two of their aunts and two cousins who had not gotten to meet the girls yet. It was a nice afternoon but the babies have been pooped from all the attention, they fell asleep right after everyone left at 5ish and have pretty much been asleep ever since, except for waking briefly to eat. It worries me. I see them waking up at 3am thinking it's morning.
They need their beauty sleep too because Monday is a BIG DAY. My friend Jess's husband is an amazing photographer and he's coming to take the girls pictures. I have spent all weekend agonizing over what they should wear and still haven't made a decision. I just spent an hour steaming the wrinkles out of many baby party dresses.... they're all so cute, which ones to pick? Do I dress them alike? Different? Should I do a casual look too? Should they wear shoes? Tights? Such a dilemma.
I did buy a small tiara yesterday for them because as everyone knows I love a tiara, but I didn't think about the fact that the girls still have almost no hair. The tiara just slides right off their heads. I was thinking of maybe using tape (or my aunt suggested false eyelash glue) but that might be a bit overboard. Tempting though.
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