..

This is complete and utter bullshit.

Today I refuse to try and be happy.  Today I will lay in my dark bedroom, close my eyes and let myself remember everything.

I will remember his button nose.  I will remember his tiny arms and the blue-green veins that traced along his fingers.  I will remember watching his dad hold him.  I will remember him alive.  I will remember kissing him while he could still feel my touch.  I will remember him in death.  I will remember everything we lost when we lost our boy.

There is no consoling, no "things will get better with time." They will not.  Not really.  I may learn to live my life but there will always be a gaping bleeding hole inside.  I will be eighty years old and I will still grieve my son.

I want to find solace with other women who have lost their babies too.  But mostly I find women using terms like "angel baby" and how God will see them through this and all along this was part of His plan...  and I cannot relate.  I don't have any notion in my mind that George is an angel in Heaven and I don't believe God, if there even is one, had any hand to play in this disaster.  Praying to a god who allowed my son to die is not going to heal my heart and it most certainly won't bring him back from the dead. 

I used to believe.  In another life.  A life long before George was even a light on the horizon . 

I often wonder, while jumping from blog to blog if dead babies mostly only happen to Christians.  It seems this way.  Perhaps before their own dead babies at least a few of them were like me: agnostic at most.  But maybe tragedy of this magnitude makes people hold on to anything that makes them feel less despair.  I can understand and I certainly don't begrudge anyone of their faith, but I can't relate.  Right now I want so much to relate to another person who carries this around with them with the same sense of finality that I do.  I only feel more alone and isolated with every blog, every message board, every book I find. 

Leif believes.  He believes we will see our son again one day.  I am happy that he does.  It makes me happy that he has hope.  He has hope enough for both of us and for now that has to be enough.

.me.

If I don't bring up the subject of him it is not because his name is not on the tip of my tongue or running through my mind.  Always, he is always there.

If I seem to be happy and jovial it is only because I want to make you feel comfortable. You see I fear that if you were to see the real me you would feel nervous, uncomfortable…frightened.  For you would see the lost woman who lives deep in the woods, barefoot with leaves in her unkempt hair and a tattered dress that hangs in rags over bony prominences.  You would see the mother of a dead baby who holds the remains of her infant close to her chest as if her warmth might somehow warm his cold skin.  As if the pounding of her heart might restart his still one.  She walks aimlessly through shadows of the tall trees, catching occasional glimpses of other faces.  She has forgotten where she is and only vaguely remembers a different place: one that was filled with sunlight and rolling hills of wildflowers. 

So when you ask me how I am and I give you the answer you want to hear, understand that it is an act of compassion on my part.  But if you are not afraid to see, to really see, tell me you miss him too.  Tell me you miss the boy he would have become.  Tell me you remember his name.

Hold him for a moment.  Feels his weight in your arms.  Remember him and by doing so help me to remember myself.

.my hopeful living room.

I made this through a website called olioboard. I would love to redo our current living room to look like this but at the moment, considering we aren't sure how long we are going to be in this apartment, it just doesn't make sense.  Oh well.  Dreaming is fun too.

Danish Modern lounge chairs from Danish Modern Teak Classics.
Kilim rug from Overstock.
Sofa from Room and Board.
Side tables from West Elm.
Lamps from Crate and Barrel.
Curtains from Ikea.
Pillows from CB2, Crate and Barrel, and Chiasso.
Coffee tables from CB2.

.yogurty yogurt.

Today I made yogurt.  If you have never tasted homemade yogurt you are seriously missing out.  It is so easy to make and tastes worlds better than any type of yogurt you can buy.

Basically the recipe goes like this.

1. Get a gallon of milk, any kind you want except for nonfat because we've found that it doesn't work as well.
2. Heat it up until it reaches a near boil or about 180 degrees.
3. Take the milk off the heat and let it cool until it reaches 120 degrees.
4. Add about two tablespoons of store-bought yogurt.  It doesn't really matter what kind you use as long as it has live cultures.
5. Let is sit for at least four hours.  It is important to keep it warm so either wrap it in a couple of towels to retain the heat or leave it in an oven that is turned off (this is what we do)
6. At this point the yogurt is done.  You can leave it like this if you like a thinner type of yogurt or you can filter out the whey using cheese cloth to make a thicker greek-like consistency

For a more detailed recipe you can go to this blog.  

From here.

.for the birds.

A pair of sparrows have made a nest on our porch.  When our front door is open we can see them on the telephone lines outside, flying back and forth from their nest.  I've never been much of a "birder" but lately I've been loving watching all of our feathered friends that live around our apartment.  So I got this bird house/feeder from Anthropologie yesterday.  I'm hoping that it attracts some of the other birds that I know are in the neighborhood even though it means cleaning up bird droppings (yuck).

.recuperation.

It started out as a cold.  Three weeks later it is mild pneumonia, or "walking pneumonia," as people like to call it.  This is what happens when you are coughing up green chunky phlegm for weeks before going to see your health care provider.  Also what happens when you don't take care of yourself is that you show up at a doctor's appointment for a cough and end up getting a pulse ox and an EKG because your heart rate is too fast (oh that feels too familiar...).

You know it is most likely because you are anemic since you never took iron replacement (even though you knew better) despite the blood loss from the c-section and subsequent six weeks of bleeding that followed.  So you get your blood drawn, a prescription for an antibiotic, and a follow up appointment for two weeks.

Last weekend my therapist strongly encouraged me to take this week off from studying. Yesterday gave me a reason to not feel guilty for following her advice.  Because taking time off simply for the reason that I have not had enough time to adequately take care of my physical and emotional health since George died isn't enough to ease my guilt about not being productive.

.an open letter to the next great drummer.

Dear Neighbor-Person Learning How to Play the Drums,

It is great that you have found an activity that you so obviously enjoying doing.  I can say that with confidence even though we have never met because for the last two weeks I have heard you banging...I mean, jamming, every day from the hours of 2:00pm to 6:00pm.  If you are really having a good time then you will keep going until closer to 7:00pm.  I can tell you must be getting really good because you play the same riffs over and over and over again so I know you are getting lots of practice.

At first I thought you were playing outside, because how else could you be coming in so loud and clear in my living room? But now I think you are playing inside and that you leave your doors and windows wide open so you can share your love of percussion with the neighborhood.  This is very thoughtful of you.  If you didn't make me listen to your...umm...music, I would have to just sit here in silence while studying for a very, very important exam.  I think you must have gotten the idea from our other neighbor-person who likes to repeatedly play scales for hours on his clarinet nearly every day as well.  It is nice to live in a neighborhood where music is so greatly admired.

So thank you, neighbor-person who is learning to play the drums.  I really, really appreciate your passion for music.

Sincerely,

Your biggest fan.

P.S.  Just minutes ago I heard a new addition to our music-loving neighborhood.  You have a singer to go along with your drums now!!!  This is very exciting news.