Mara Archives - Page 3 of 8 - slightly cosmopolitan

2010 Year In Review

December 31, 2010 By heidi 3 Comments

*~*~the summary~*~*

:: it started with surgery that kicked my butt

:: then a pregnancy that came out of nowhere

:: and a little boy who fell in love with the olympics and canada

:: an unthinkable anxiety became pervasive in my mind

:: until I lost Mara on Mother’s Day

:: we grieved

:: we’re grieving

:: but we’re picking up the pieces

:: and learning that

:: life

:: is

:: good

:: I like being me

:: even though it sucked sometimes

:: and I like taking prozac because it helps me be me

:: it’s bittersweet to leave 2010 behind and start 2011

:: but the good outpaced the bad in 2010

:: and I’m trusting the same of 2011

*~*~the review~*~*

1. What did you do in 2010 that you’d never done before?
:: took my son to Florida
:: accepted help at a deeper level
:: learned to take pictures in manual mode
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
:: I didn’t make any resolutions; my focus for the year was to revel, and I definitely feel I took my reveling to a new level. I’ll pick a new word for 2011.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
:: lots of people around me gave birth. Tons!

4. Did anyone close to you die?
:: my baby

5. What countries did you visit?
:: just this one!

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?
:: financial stability
:: a new baby
:: energy

7. What dates from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
:: May 9, because that was the day Mara died

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
:: surviving; it sounds sort of pitiful, but I’m very, very proud of it. It was very, very hard.
9. What was your biggest failure?
:: I can’t think of a giant failure. Maybe there have been some, but I can’t think of any.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
:: sort of, I guess

11. What was the best thing you bought?
:: a trip to Florida and family photos while we were there; hands down one of the best decisions we’ve ever made

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
:: Gabe’s! He started school this fall and is proving to be an amazing little guy!

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
:: I saw some pretty appalling online behavior, but thankfully nothing horrific in “real” life

14. Where did most of your money go?
:: medical bills, mortgage, and food. Did I say medical bills?

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
:: being pregnant

16. What song will always remind you of 2010?
:: Feels Like Home, by Chantal Kreviazuk

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder?
b) thinner or fatter?
c) richer or poorer?
a) happier, quite shockingly. When I’m sadder I’m much sadder, but mostly I’m happier.
b) a bit fatter, unfortunately. I picked up about 6 pounds this fall – not a giant deal, but more than what I weighed last New Year’s.
c) mildly richer since I started working a little bit

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
:: the bedtime routine with Gabe

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
:: generally being impatient. It feels reasonable in the moment, but afterward I always regret it.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
:: with my wonderful family, and it was perfect – just not long enough!

21. Did you fall in love in 2010?
:: yes, again and again

22. What was your favorite TV program?
:: the office

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
:: no, I don’t think I hate anyone. I don’t even think I strongly dislike anyone.

24. What was the best book you read?
:: Jesus Calling or A Perfectly Kept House Is The Sign of a Misspent Life

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
:: not really a new discovery, but there are some things by Lily Allen I fell in love with

26. What did you want and get?
:: to go to Florida

27. What did you want and not get?
:: to bring my new baby home

28. What was your favorite film of this year?
:: did I even go to the movies this year??

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
:: honestly, that was almost 12 months ago. I have no clue!

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
:: less sickness. The nose surgery was rough, the anxiety was beyond rough, the miscarriage was completely horrific, and the random sinus and strep yuckinesses were more than annoying

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?
:: fashion concept?? I buy what looks fun and what I can afford. My favorite fashion “thing” is ruffles. Love me some ruffles!

32. What kept you sane?
:: the love and support of my family and friends

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
:: Bethenny Frankel

34. What political issue stirred you the most?
:: healthcare reform

35. Who did you miss?
:: Mara, my extended family, my grandmothers

36. Who was the best new person you met?
:: the most fascinating person I met this year was Kelle Hampton. I met lots of lovely people, though, so it’s hard to pick a “best.”

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010.
:: you are stronger than you know

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
:: I have unanswered prayers
I have trouble I wish wasn’t there
And I have asked a thousand ways
That You would take my pain away
That You would take my pain away

I am trying to understand
How to walk this weary land
Make straight the paths that crookedly lie
Oh Lord, before these feet of mine
Oh Lord, before these feet of mine

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave Your hands

*~*~completion ritual~*~*

1. What do you want to acknowledge yourself for in 2010?

strength. strength I never knew I had and strength I never wanted to find. but strength I’m so glad to know I have. I want to go somewhere with it.

2. What is there to grieve in 2010?

my baby. everything else was a blip on the radar. in a sense, this is good because it has put things in perspective. in another sense, it’s just sad.

3. What else do you need to say about 2010 to declare it complete?

2010 was. it was good. it was hard. it was important. and it will be, even after 2011 is.

I declare 2010 complete!

As I stand up, I declare 2011 my year of M | A | G | I | C!

The word I had originally chosen for 2011 several months ago was alchemy, which is much the same idea. Although I still like it, I was looking for something simple and something I could take in multiple directions. So “magic” it is! I want to create more magic in my life – from the little, mundane things like completing my daily chores, to making family dinner a more positive, magical experience, to finding the sparkle in every moment, to creating a spirit-filled home for my family, to inviting more radiance into my life, and to having some big, beautiful experiences that will shine as bright spots in my lifetime of memories. I like that magic is a little bit earthy and mystical; I’m not quite sure how this is going to unfold. 2011’s magic will show me, step by step as I connect to each moment.

3 CommentsFiled Under: Family Stuff, Figuring Myself Out, Gabe, Mara, Motherhood, Tahd, The Littles of Life

Happy Birthday, Sweet Mara Girl

November 17, 2010 By heidi 14 Comments

sweet girl,

i wish i could see you today, shining in all your beautiful perfection. i wish the doctor was placing your wriggling, wet body on my chest. i wish i was hearing you squeaky cries. i wish i knew what color your eyes were, how curly your hair would be, what your favorite doll would be, how youd like to go to sleep at night. i wish i knew your favorite story and heard you sing you favorite song and had the chance to do the endless things mothers do with their daughters. i wish i knew you – more of you than the tiny fraction of you i know right now.

i rest sweetly only in the knowledge that you are waiting for us in heaven, cradled in the strong arms if jesus and surrounded by the love of great grandparents who are lucky to see and know you first. but i hope you know how loved you are here on earth. if heaven can possibly be any more loving, i hope you feel an extra dose of our love today, in spite of the time and dimension that separate us.

people say children change you, and they do. but you have changed me in a very special, organic way. i am deeply grateful to you for taking me on this journey. i didn’t want this journey, but im thankful for the person i have become as a result of you. as the days and months cement the permanence of your absence in my heart, i hope they also cement these changes and shifts in perspective i have experienced because of your presence.

i love you – today and always. i can’t wait to see your sweet face!

love,

mom

**if you have grieved the loss of a child – a miscarried, stillborn, or gone-to-soon child – i would be honored to have you acknowledge that child in the comments so i can remember him or her, too. there is tremendous comfort in knowing we’re not alone. there is tremendous comfort in knowing our babies have precious company in heaven. whether you are grieving the loss of your own child or are grieving the loss of a child you loved as your own, i would love to read the story and remember your sweet child.

**sorry for the capitalization problems. some sort of technological glitch.

14 CommentsFiled Under: Mara

On Decorating

November 16, 2010 By heidi 2 Comments

I’ve said it before. The body remembers.

I didn’t realize it until this afternoon while I was knee-deep in the process of spontaneously painting my kitchen. I’ve spent the last month of my life decorating, redecorating, organizing, reorganizing, and checking out of the library every decorating book known to man.

I’m nesting.

But it’s almost midnight and my kitchen smells of the strange, appealing odor of new paint and my decorating books are stacked up beside me and I have plans for step two in my decorating project – which, I might add, I’m doing for free because I’m the sort who buys random gallons of paint and stashes them in my basement until I decide what to do with them. Comfort Gray came in handy today!

It’s just that I couldn’t stand looking at the kitchen anymore. It was orange. I love orange. But I had loved this orange for five years and it had begun to feel heavy and old and stained and representative of the person who I was then. Which is not, quite certainly, the person I am now.

You know what I love? The gray. It’s cool and fresh and totally different from the energy of the warm, rusty orange. That was intense. This is calm. That was specific. This is amiable. That smelled of five years of food that baked into the walls. This smells new. I told Tahd that the smell of new paint is just as good as the smell of new babies. He laughed and agreed, but I think he was lying. 😉

I’ve been struggling a lot with what place to give Mara in our family. I’m the only person who’s had a miscarriage I know who has integrated the baby into her family as much as I have. And I’ve been feeling self-conscious about that. In my head, I think, I had a miscarriage. Not a stillbirth. Not a baby who died from SIDS. Just a miscarriage. People have them every day. I shouldn’t make this any more special to me than others make it to themselves.

But it was different, too. Most people don’t miscarry at 13 weeks after everything looks fine. No, perfect. I lost Mara just after I had fully let go and embraced the pregnancy as a “sure thing.” I had just started gaining a sense of sanity over my anxiety. I heard her heart beating every day. We were good. It happened fast, too. Of the few people who miscarry around 13 weeks, most actually lost the baby several weeks earlier. I didn’t. I know within 24 hours of her last heartbeat that she was gone. And it was Mother’s Day. Nobody miscarries on Mother’s Day. That’s just crazy.

It occurred to me today, though, that the biggest reason we’ve integrated her into our lives is because of Gabe. At about 11 weeks – when everybody said we were good to go – we told him. We got him a book about having a sibling. We started using the word “brother.” He thought of her as his baby, and he kissed my belly tenderly and his eyes sparkled with excitement. When she left, thinking about taking that identity and joy away from him was too much for me. So we integrated her as a part of our family – a member of our little group who didn’t stay long, but stayed long enough to change us.

This struggle would undoubtedly be different if we hadn’t told him. I would have grieved privately. It would have been hard. He would have been protected from the heartache he has experienced. But that’s not the way it turned out, so I’ve decided to make my peace with the fact that it’s okay for me to think of us – and talk about us – as a family of four. I wish our “family of four” experience would be different, but to deny there is a fourth presence in our family is to deny everything I know for sure – like that Tahd loves flashlights, that Gabe loves recess, and that my body remembers.

So for now I’m nesting – not in the way I hoped to be nesting, but in a way that feels good anyway. And I look around at the changes I’m making with a smile on my face. This is not the reality I hoped for, but I like how I feel when I make my surroundings reflect the transitions my spirit is experiencing.

Comfort Gray. I like it and all it represents. Especially the “comfort” part.

2 CommentsFiled Under: Mara, Miscarriage

Ten

November 7, 2010 By heidi 8 Comments

Today is November 7.

Mara was due on November 17.

In ten days.

I’ve entered an alternative universe where time is standing still and I’m terrified about what comes next. I just need to get through the next ten days, but if I get through the next ten days they’ll be over and I’ll feel like I’m separated from my baby by even more than a lifetime. That thought? Makes me panic a little bit and gasp for air. If I was a man I’d be loosening my tie, trying to catch my breath. It reminds me of Monday morning, May 10. I had just gotten out of the shower so we could be on our way to surgery. Tahd and I were colossal disasters, and in the midst of getting ready he stopped me and hugged me. I remember clamoring to get loose because I genuinely thought I couldn’t breathe anymore. Grief and panic constricted my chest and I worried I’d never catch a full breath again. I don’t like that feeling. It’s not good.

Ten Things I Will Miss Doing With Her

Seeing her for the first time when the doctor places her on my belly
Learning to nurse her
Snuggling with her while we sleep
Introducing her to her big brother
Holding her endlessly
Watching her learn to smile
Waking up with her in the quiet hours of the night
Picking out her clothes
Feeling her fingers curl around mine
Smelling her sweet baby scent

Ten Things I’m Saying to Myself in the Meantime

It’s not my fault and I did the best I could
There may still be other babies
Even if there aren’t, my life is very blessed
It’s okay to hurt and cry
It’s okay to be happy and laugh and experience joy
This is not the way it was supposed to be, but the way it is will be okay
I can choose hope while still embracing the sadness
Mara was real and her life was important
I will see her again someday
Possibilities are endless

And in other notes, I just found out it will be ten days before our bank account situation gets rectified. Tahd asked me to log onto our bank account and look for a transaction. He needed to finish out an expense report for work and thought he put a work charge on our personal account. Tahd rarely asks me about bank information, but I logged on and looked for the information he needed. In the process, I noticed our account balance was impressively low. I hadn’t expected much, but I did expect more than was there. Further inspection indicated that someone had been purchasing a LOT of clothes from a British clothing retailer. The bank was very helpful, and kindly explained that in ten days we should have this whole disaster all taken care of.

Ten days.

How ironic.

(And I have to note I started writing this “10 Day” post before I knew about the bank issues. Too weird.)

8 CommentsFiled Under: Mara

October 15

October 16, 2010 By heidi 3 Comments

I think one of the few comforting things about being a parent – beside the snuggles and the even rhythm of the late-night-sleepy-breathing – is the knowledge that I’ve done this first. I used to be anxious about going upstairs or downstairs alone, just like Gabe is. I learned my AWANA verses, just like Gabe does. I went on a first date just like Gabe will. My heart has been broken, just like I hope Gabe’s won’t be but it probably will be anyway. I’ve done this – all the things that he’ll do. And it’s okay. There’ve been stellar decisions and there’ve been not-so-stellar decisions, but I still have a beautiful life. He’s not going to be exactly like me, but we share a commonality of experience such that I’m learning there really is nothing new under the sun.

Except.

Mara died first. My child died before me. In addition to the fact that children shouldn’t die before parents, it troubles me that I have a child who has experienced an element of life that is still only a secret to me. If she had to go, I wish I could have helped her through it. I wish I could have told her – authoritatively – that it would be okay. I wonder if it was painful for her to die, and I wish I could have been a more active source of comfort to her than simply being her physical vessel. Her brief, enigmatic life is made more mysterious to me by the fact that I have only a fleeting knowledge of how it ended and why it ended and what happened next.

I suspect all parents must reach this juncture sometime – the point at which they are unable to help their child through something because the child’s experiences in a particular area exceed the experiences of the parent. As I’ve gotten older, there have been a few times when my parents have turned to me for my perspective on an issue they’ve faced. There’s no chance I’m smarter than them or have more experience than they have, but it feels empowering when they value my life experiences and assessments, and it’s humbling to know that they value those things enough to try to learn from me. I wonder if – when I reach this point with Gabe – it will feel as awkward to me as it feels related to Mara. The fact that Mara can teach me to die seems so foreign and wrong.

Today was October 15th, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, and although this day feels more like a “Hallmark holiday” to me than an authentic acknowledgement of loss, I’ve still tried to be conscious of the loss I feel in my heart. I’ve decided that the best way to acknowledge loss is to envelop myself in the richness of life, but I can’t help but long to know more about her – who she was, who she would have been, and who she was in death.

The more I write the more morbid it sounds, but it really doesn’t sound morbid in my head. It’s just a point of incredible strangeness that perplexes me sometimes.

I heard this song tonight while I was on my way home, and although it deals with this issue from a different perspective, it captures the heart of my mind’s wanderings. Really, what do I know? Not much. Not much at all.