Unfamiliar

I came across an old post today at an old blog friend’s place. The first commenter was me, 4 days before Baby Man was born. I blogged a lot then, and was probably the first commenter on most posts as I was often refreshing pages, looking for comfort, camaraderie and distraction. Although it was a beautiful post, my comment was anything but significant. And yet, looking at it today, I was struck by a deep sense of…nothing.

I’ve been ridiculously tearful and on edge for the past 24 hours. Partly out of annoyance at my students, too many of whom wrote final papers consisting of filler and crap. Partly because my period arrived this morning. Partly because we’re awaiting a very stressful piece of professional news tomorrow. And maybe, maybe because we’re entering the period of anniversaries.

Honestly the first year of anniversaries was fairly dull in terms of pain, confusing because it intersected with Baby Man’s arrival and all of that exhaustion. Rough to commemorate because JJ was out of town and I was alone with a newborn. Natan’s birth/death comes at a bad time for remembering. Ha. I suppose it would always suck to have your birthday come just three days after the New Year, two weeks after Christmas, and threeish weeks after your younger siblings. Add to that two parents who seem to be perpetually on the job market and your birthday comes in the middle of the annual conference where they have to go salivate and beg at the feet of search committees at schools they never heard of before sending out their letters. I’m sure our potential colleagues, however, likely also had at least that part in common with us at some point. I doubt many of them were also thinking…oh…January 3rd.  Hmm. What was going on on January 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th just 3 short years ago?

But back to the present. What was going on on December 10th, 2006? I have no idea. I had no idea then this time of year would be any different than any other. Obviously I didn’t expect any kind of birth/death/dooms day anniversaries.

Is my grumpiness really about Natan? Or when I’m sad about other things, do I like to think it’s because of not having him because that seems like a more sensible reason? And is that because I don’t really feel his “presence” otherwise?

Yes.

a morbid topic deserving of its own post

A few weeks ago I was an “expert” on a panel of other experts about an historical topic. (My expertise came about when an official expert dropped out last minute.)

At a certain point, someone mentioned that President Abraham Lincoln had sat with the body of his dead son, Willie, for quite a long time after he passed away in the White House. Then someone else mentioned other “creepy” habits among bereaved parents and family members from the past. Without a second thought, I looked dead on into the faces of those who’d called it “creepy,” and said, “I don’t think it’s strange behavior at all. I think it’s a natural part of grieving to struggle with leaving your child’s body behind in a cold grave. In fact, it wasn’t unheard of in the 19th century for people who were having a hard time accepting a loved one’s passing to have them dug up for one last look. ‘Creepy’ isn’t really a helpful word for understanding what was going on.” And so….from there I kept my historian’s monologue and dialogue going, but in my mind I went elsewhere.

I have spent considerable time wondering and worrying about the natural processes of decay. It’s hellishly hard to come to terms with the reality that a little body you had hoped to nurture and see grow is now in the ground. I wouldn’t act on it, for religious and socially ordained reasons, but it’s not inconceivable to me that if given the chance somehow, I would have wanted to see what happened to Natan’s body after he was buried. I’m glad he was just put in a traditional pine box but now that I’ve been hearing about green burial options, I worry that we could have chosen a better environmental option.

As soon as we decided to get pregnant, I began thinking and worrying about the best choices for the environment and nurturing his little body.  But I only checked into diaper services and make-your-own baby food kits. Environmentally friendly infant-size caskets weren’t one of my registry options.

Pumpkin pie and wine

That’s what I’m looking forward to for the next few days. 

Thanks to all for the kind thoughts on my last post, and I am sorry for vanishing. Not surprisingly, the bouts of illness have sent me into a frenzy of periods of no (productive, professional) activity followed by bouts of crazy activity. I still don’t know what’s going on, but really, so long as I am very strict about eating in very small amounts, of very low fat bland foods, I am okay. I really have no answers about what’s going on–all ultrasounds and super nuclear tests and cultures come up clear. I will keep searching I suppose when I have a chance to do more than function. My sister is suggesting a simple chiropractic adjustment. I’m willing to try it. We shall see. This makes me seem like things aren’t good. Things are fine.

tummy ache and tired

Oh man. I am so tired and feeling so badly. I thought I was doing better, and then my parents came with all kinds of crap food and I ate some, like a moron. Now I feel so utterly horrible. Exhausted, my throat aches, my chest aches, my stomach throbs, even my eyes are burning. All this from some “peanut brittle popcorn,” and squash ravioli. My last test showed nothing of significance, just once again a slight “shadow” on my gallbladder that no one would notice if I weren’t complaining of issues. I suppose I will call the doctor with this new experience and see what he has to say. Hopefully the’ll give me a referral somewhere where I’m likely to get some answers.

Here’s a question for me. How come, even when I tell my mother I can’t eat this kind of stuff, does she continually press it on me? “Oh just a little bit won’t hurt you.” News flash: Yes it will. But the even bigger question is, why the hell can’t I just not eat it? And then why while I’m miserable does she have to suggest that everyone has such problems and it’s all about aging?

I could seriously whine all day and night about the issues I’ve had struggling with my mom’s insistence that we deny all problems always. But I don’t think it would help.

Ouch; or, the Hard Way to Lose That Last 7 Pounds

So those of you blessed with knowing my whiny self might know that I’ve had a hell of a time getting back down to my pre-Natan pregnancy weight. In fact, I sometimes felt like I was holding on to that last 7 pounds as part of my grief. I’m sure that sounds extreme, many many women hold onto some weight post-pregnancy, but for some reason I felt particularly anxious over it. I’d ask myself, “Is that Natan’s 7 pounds, or Baby Man’s 7 pounds?” Which is a silly question, and one that only enters my mind at random moments, and then is pushed out again as I’m aware of its absurdity.

I also thought about that weight, wondering if I should lose it as part of my preparations for a next pregnancy, or rather as an acknowledgment that my childbearing days are over.

Well, those questions are moot for the moment. Although of course it could easily return, but then what kind of weight is it?

They are moot right now because I’ve lost 14 pounds! in the past three weeks. I have no idea why. Only that if I eat something more substantial than carrrots, apples, blueberries, potatoes or plain toast, it passes through me in the most unpleasant manner.

The pain started about 6 weeks ago, actually, but it was sharp only at moments, and the doctor blamed it on a burst ovarian cyst. Now we’re thinking maybe gall bladder, and I’ve had a battery of tests to determine that. I don’t fit the profile for a bad gall bladder in any way, but the symptoms sound like it.

An awful lot of drama for a not so special problem, but it irks me. And is making it hard to function and work on a normal basis.

Tis that time of year again

Countdown. D – less than three months to the three year anniversary of Natan’s death.

Who is Natan? I don’t know. He’s my son. He’s buried up north. I didn’t visit his grave on the second anniversary because we had to be half a country away for interviews, and I won’t visit his grave on the third anniversary because we’ll have to be half a continent away again for the same reason. How do I feel about that? Honestly I don’t know. I don’t know if it matters. Maybe it’s all that matters. I don’t know.

I’m completely useless at this, this prolonged death and grief thing. Is Natan still dead? Am I just a self-absorbed, under-developed human being myself for still thinking about it? I’m not berating myself, I just wonder, what does it matter? Is this such a great place to be anyway? I was so certain when he died that he had a neshama, a soul. These days, to be completely honest, I’m not sure any of us do. In those moments when I was closer to death, I was much more certain about life.

In the days and months after, I was more certain, for example, that I’d rather Natan had lived, no matter his condition and health. I don’t know anymore and I might deserve to be told to fuck off for that. In terms of mundane lived experience, however, my life is a whole hell of a lot easier with my full-term son than it would have been with my micro-preemie.

I’d by lying if I said it never occurs to me that I’m better off with Baby Man. Seriously rail at me if you disagree and that’s disrespectful of life. I don’t care. I don’t know. It makes me crazy, at times, that I think it, but I’ve never said I’m perfect.

Don’t tell me it’s “normal,” because I don’t need comfort. I think I’m coming to peace with it, and am able to be honest.

My pregnancy with Baby Man was the luckiest period of my life–I had no reason to expect I would go to my due date. And (right now, maybe it will change) I can’t really summon the energy to wish anything had been different. But it’s not like I can do anything about it, so do my wishes even matter?

Sap and Sorrow

Sap (scroll down for sorrow)

Baby Man is the best thing ever. Yesterday morning I got up with him, which admittedly JJ has been doing for the most part for awhile now. As I approached his door he was babbling, “Daddy daddy daddy.”  I called out, “Morning Baby Man!” and he said, “Oh! Nice!” and was jumping up and down calling, “Mommy! Mommy” as I walked in.  When I picked him up, he kissed me and said, “Nice Mommy.” Best. Thing. Ever.

——

Sorrow

I don’t know if I ever really truly confessed here what I a bitch I am. Do you know that after Natan died I did indeed have tinges of wondering, “Why me? Why not any of the other pregnant women I know, especially those who already have living children?”  I know of no worse feeling in the world than lying alone in a dark room, knowing your child is dead, and wishing it had been someone else’s, anyone else’s, and knowing that that’s an evil thought.  It wasn’t a real wish, however, it was a flailing, a desperately jealous desire to not feel so isolated, alone and hurt. I hardly felt human.

My sister, who has had enough pain in her life otherwise, had a daughter two months before Natan died. She lived three hundred miles away and I couldn’t go see her right after she was born, when I was still pregnant. But I couldn’t stand that daughter the first time I met her, when she was 4 months old. I love her now, and don’t think of her as a shadow baby, but as herself, a crazy little girl. But unlike with my sister’s other two kids–where my love for them was intense and immediate–it took awhile for me to warm up to her.  I was so pissed that I was still the childless aunt. And I didn’t even have to be that for long.

For the most part, I’m better. Having a successful pregnancy and a living baby made it better.

That doesn’t mean though that it’s okay that Natan died, that it happened for a reason, or that it made me stronger.  My time in the hospital, his death, the aftermath and the subsequent pregnancy changed me. Deeply.

I didn’t realize how much while I was still living in the same city where it all happened. I still had all the same friends for the most part, who treated me the same, but with some additional kindness and patience. I know I got bitchy and sullen at times, but they understood.

It’s different now in this new place, where almost no one knows what happened. Absolutely no one in my department knows.  Only two new friends from blog land who happen to live here know (obviously). I have crankiness to me, an edge that I didn’t notice when I was among old friends.  It seemed temporary, as did my darker moods.  But now those moods are part of me because I’m meeting new people who only know of me post-loss.  I can’t make less than cheerful or optimistic comments about pregnancy and motherhood without seeming unpleasant. 

I have a cynicism about academia, about the mission of my field that comes across as if I lack confidence.  My belief that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing sometimes looks like it comes from lack of experience, rather than my actual feeling that we’re all full of it and most of us are too confident in the significance of humanity.

An older colleague told me (in an unrelated context) that teaching is a performance, and he’s right. He advised me to think of myself as going on stage when I go into a classroom. I know that. I’ve always done that. The problem is, before Natan died, I knew my character.  Now I don’t. And far beyond simply the question of teaching, I often feel like my whole life is a performance where I’m not quite sure of my role, and where the director has left the building.

the survey I won’t be filling out on f*book

Seriously, why would someone I know knows about Natan want to send this to me? Does she expect me to lie? Or was my pregnancy with Natan not real? Anyway, here’s what I would answer if I were going to complete this damn survey. It’s bitter.

1) How old were you when your first child was born? 29 years old

2) What month and year was your youngest child born? December 2007

3. How did you feel when you first found out you were pregnant? Super duper excited!

4. Who did you tell first? My husband, my sister, my brother-in-law, my mom, my advisor

5. How many pounds did you gain during your first pregnancy? 15 pounds

6. What did you crave while you were pregnant? Ginger ale

7. Did you find out the gender of your first child? Why or why not? Yes. Because I was hospitalized for pre-term labor, and I thought, well, if chances are this child is going to die, I might as well know as much about him as I can for as long as I can before he does.

8. Did you have any complications during your pregnancy?Yes. The baby died, and I almost did, or did for a moment, depending upon whom you ask.

9. How much did your first child weigh? oh, somewhere around 2 pounds

10. Was your first child early, late, or on time? Rather early.

11. What is the most difficult challenge or health issue that any of your children have faced? Strangulation leading to death

12. What’s your favorite part of being a mom? My living son’s interest in the world around him

13. Do you think it’s easier to be a mom or a dad? I’m glad I’m a mom, not a dad

14. What is the best piece of advice you could give to someone who is about to have their first child? Tell other people to piss off, unless they’re offering to buy you dinner or help clean your house.

15. Did you always think you’d have kids? Yes

16. What’s been the biggest surprise about motherhood? That you still feel like a mom when your baby is dead

17. Are there things you miss about life before kids? Not knowing about number 16

18. How many children do you have? 2

19. Do you plan to have any more children? I’m not “planning” anything in terms of this question

20. Who’s the mom that you admire most? My sister.

Sorry I went to Boise

I got an email from a student the other day, apologizing and asking for forgiveness for his late assignment. Entire message, subject line: “Sorry I went to Boise,” text: “please fogive me.” [sic].

I like it here.

Apparently it’s one year today since the financial collapse. That means one year ago yesterday I overnight mailed my first job application for a position that would be canceled. The first of oh, 2/3 of what I applied for to officially disappear. As my commemorative activity yesterday I looked at a few of the websites of other schools where I applied, two where I interviewed, that did not contact me telling me the position had been canceled. Quite a few had no new faculty listed at all.

I’m applying again. A few nice-looking prospects, but of course we have no idea if things will be any better for schools this year, and there are many fewer postings than this time this year. Hopefully that doesn’t mean fewer jobs, but just that the ones listed actually exist.

What the heck?

This afternoon I was talking with the wife of a colleague. We’re both new here, and they happen to have a son a week older than Baby Man. They also happen to be pregnant with another baby, due in the winter.

So we’re talking about our kids and pregnancy, and I forget how, but it comes up that Baby Man was a big baby. And it comes up that a friend of theirs had an even bigger baby. And that that friend managed to have the baby without drugs. I joke that I thought I’d do that, but oh well. She says, “I wanted to too, but had to have a c-section. Sometimes it doesn’t go as planned, I suppose.” I say, “Yeah,” and she looks kind of sad and touches her belly.

Have I told you how unbelievably strange it is to live somewhere where no one else knows about Natan?

Yet that certainly didn’t seem like the right moment to share.