24 Hours In Hell

I am grateful to be writing the post I am about to write.

More grateful than you can possibly know.

Here is why.

Bubba has a rash. 

Nothing too impressive. 

Here, check it out for yourself.

We went to the doctor's yesterday to have it looked at. It isn't the first time he has had a rash, he tends to be more prone to baby acne, cradle cap, contact rashes etc, so I wanted to talk about what else I might need to eliminate from my diet.

While there, I noticed a tiny red dot. 

Also, not very impressive.

It looked like a pin prick.

I pointed it out to the doctor.

He pressed on it and it did not blanch.

He pressed on the rash on Bubba's belly.

A few of those also did not blanch.

The doctor told me we had to have blood drawn,

a complete blood count and another test I didn't recognize the abbreviations for,

to rule out some things.

One of the things they needed to rule out... Leukemia.

Yes, you read that right. 

Leukemia.

Even typing that vile word makes me want to vomit. 

I saw stars.

Felt the room spin.

"But Peyton's type of cancer doesn't run in families."

The doctor told me he wasn't concerned.
I tried to believe him.

He said to head over to Quest because they are good at getting blood from little babies.

He said if they couldn't get it there, we would have to go to the children's hospital.

THAT children's hospital.

The one where Peyton lived.

The one where Peyton died.

The one I can't even think of driving past without feeling a part of me die.

The doctor gave us a lab slip and told us not to worry.

Yeah... right.

We headed to Quest.

"You have to take him." I told Hubs. "I can't do it." I started to cry.

It wasn't seeing him get a needle I couldn't handle.

I fly solo on the trips to have them vaccinated.

I couldn't be there to see him have THAT test done.

I was a mess.

I felt suddenly weak.

I thought I might drop him if I took him in.

The whole visit took maybe 15 minutes.

When they came out, Bubba had a single tear in his eye.

"He was laughing right up till the point they stuck him." Hubs told me.

I scooped Bubba up into my arms.

I begged him to be okay.

I cried.

And cried.

And cried.

There was no call last night with results.

I didn't know how to feel about that.

This morning I woke worried.

I called at 8.

At 8:30.

At 9:20.

"_____Pediatrics, this is Anne"

"I'm calling for my son's test results."

"His name"

"______ ______"

"Please hold a moment."

That 'moment' took nearly five minutes.

A myriad of thoughts ran through my mind.

Why was it taking so long?

Were they getting a doctor on the line?

I waited anxiously, repeating "He's fine. He's fine. He's fine. He's fine." with each second that ticked by.

My knees were shaking.

My hand holding the phone was shaking.

I heard a voice at the other end of the line.

"Hello, is this _____'s mom."

"Yes."
"This is Sherry, the nurse practitioner."

"Hi Sherry." My voice cracked. "Do you have ____'s results?"

"Yes I do. They are all normal."

Heavy sigh of relief. "Oh Thank God."

From there we discussed what else might have caused the red dot and the rash. 

None of which were serious.

There are no words for the relief I am feeling today.

Last night I saw images of another life. 

Of a different outcome.

I could see myself there, because I have been there.

It scared the hell out of me.

It made me want to curl into the fetal position on the floor and die.

Today I feel yet another new lease on life.

My son is healthy.

BOTH of my children are healthy, thank God.

And I am so, so grateful.

I am not a perfect mother

"All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know." 

-Ernest Hemingway     

Okay... here we go.

I am not a perfect mother.

There. 

I said it.

That is my one true sentence.

I was not a perfect mother to Peyton.

Another true sentence.

I loved her - yes.

I wanted her to live - yes.

I miss her every day - yes.

But I wasn't perfect. 

I was scared - a lot.

I cried in front of her - a lot.

I felt robbed, even when she was with us, by the machines, and the procedures, and the cancer, and the projected outcome.

I was weak in my Faith during Peyton's life.

I still am.

I spent more time in the chapel yelling at Him for afflicting her, than I did believing He would cure her, and I will never know if that affected her outcome.

There were times I should have spoken up about flaws in her care.

I know that now.

At the time I didn't feel qualified to say anything.

Motherly enough to say anything.

What could I possibly have known more than the nurses?

I wasn't even allowed to give her a bath.

Peyton was never surrounded by pure joy.

Forced smiles - yes.

Feigned laughter - yes.

Intense love - yes. yes. yes.

But the true, pure, out and out joy that all children deserve - no.

I wasn't strong enough to overlook what was happening and simply rejoice in her life, and that is something I will always regret.

For these reasons, and more, I know I was not a perfect mother to Peyton.

But that doesn't tell the whole story.

There were things I did right.

Things I know that I even did well.

Like comfort her.

And make her feel safe.

Peyton knew I loved her.

I held her a lot,

and told her so at every opportunity.

I sang to her the songs from my childhood.

And did skin to skin time in the hopes that it would improve her blood counts.

I traced every inch of her. 

Relished in each feature.

Breathed her in.

I talked to her about life outside the walls of the hospital. 

And did my best to make the right decisions.

But some of them were wrong. 

They must have been.

Had all the right decisions been made, Peyton would have survived. 

Wouldn't she?

When I think of all the papers I signed and the procedures I put her through hoping to save her life, and now knowing that it was for nothing, I feel the heavy boot of regret settle on my throat.

I still love Peyton today with the same intensity that I did when she was here.

I miss her like mad and imagine what our life could have been, what it should have been, with her in it.

I was not a perfect mother to Peyton.

I know this much is true.

But I tried my best.

So, are you ready for one more true sentence?

I am not a perfect mother to my snowflakes.

There are things that I do well -I know that. 

There are lessons I learned from loving and mothering Peyton that make me a better mother today than I probably would have been on my own.

Everything I do, and every decision I make, has been colored by my experiences with her.

Because of Peyton's life, I know to love better.
More fully.
More honestly.

I know to never let an opportunity to tell my children that I love them pass me by.

I know not to waste time, or take moments for granted.

I know how blessed, how truly, truly blessed I am to have them.

I know how important family is.

I know that they are the most important thing in my world.
That their happiness and safety are my top priorities.

That if I never succeed in anything else, this is something that I have to get right.

But...
I am not a perfect mother.

I get frustrated, really frustrated, at times.
And don't always have the answers.

I tend to overthink the small things, and I definitely worry too much.

I allow the hard lessons learned through child loss to cloud my judgement,or scare me away from certain people, places or experiences, because of some perceived risk that I see in them.

When I make the same rookie mistakes that any sleep deprived mother could make, I don't know how to give myself a break or how to let go of the "what ifs."

I made one such rookie mistake last week.

I was exhausted.
And distracted.
And I goofed.

I got home after running errands, and opened the car door to find my son looking up at me with trusting eyes in a car seat that had not been properly buckled.

I couldn't believe I could do something so stupid!

He could have been hurt.
Really hurt.
He wasn't.
But he could have been.

Noticing my mistake, I scooped my little Bubba up into my arms and started to cry.

I have already lost a child due to something outside of my control.
The thought of not doing everything within my control to keep my twins safe was just too much.

I am not allowed to make these kinds of mistakes.
I should know better.

Bubba, who has never seen me cry, just smiled and cooed and smacked at the wetness on my cheeks with his teething-soaked hands, no worse for the wear, despite my error.

He had forgiven me, but I couldn't forgive myself.

What if?
What if?
What if?!

In that moment, I felt undeserving because I am not a perfect mother.

Not that anyone has accused me of being one, of course.
I am just being honest.

I am not a perfect mother.

But I am a mother who sings silly songs to make her little ones smile.

I am a mother who tells her children how happy they make me.

I am a mother who gets down to their level to play with them.

I cuddle them to help them feel secure in this new world,

and smother them with kisses and hugs.

I am a mother who celebrates each new milestone,

and is constantly rooting them on.

I am their biggest fan and my world revolves around them, as it should.

I am not a perfect mother, this is true, but I always try to do what is best for them, even if what's best for them feels like a struggle every-single-step-of-the-way, like exclusively breastfeeding them has been.

I am not a perfect mother, and that's okay.

I love my children.
ALL of my children.
Fully and unconditionally.

I am not a perfect mother, and yet, somehow, despite any missteps and mix ups along the way, I know that they don't need me to be.

My love will be enough.

6th Friday Rainbow Baby Blog Rodeo

Has your Rainbow hit a milestone this week?

Starred in a cute video?

Done something adorable? Funny? Downright embarrassing?

If you answered "yes" to any of the above questions, 

than you have come to the right place!

Welcome to the Friday Rainbow Baby Blog Rodeo, a place to celebrate the amazing children who have come into our lives after loss, and to strengthen our bond as a community of Rainbow parents.

Every Friday we can gather here to share our little ones' triumphs, brag like the proud parents that we are, and yes ... even own up to our epic fails in parenting (all in good fun of course) via links to our own blogs with posts about any and everything Rainbow from the week.

Feel free to grab the button from the sidebar and help spread the word. Let's bring this Rainbow parenting community together.

I will go first...

Shhhhh! Babies Sleeping.

Yay! You may remember me mentioning a few weeks back about some of the momma struggles I was facing. Well it appears (crossing fingers as I type this) that the days of overly tired fusspots are over. Bubba and Squeaks are sleeping well, and we are ALL so much happier for it!

I wish I had a picture to share of this, but the idea of "possibly" waking them up to take a picture of them sleeping is just a little too risky for me.

We have had a heck of a time with the babies refusing to nap and refusing to sleep unless they were on the boob. I took some of the advice offered here, went and spoke to my pediatrician, and armed with a plan, went to work on getting them sleep trained during Wednesday's nap. 

All in all, things have been a success.

Sleep Log Thus Far:

Wednesday Nap - put the babies down. Squeaks fell right asleep. Bubba fussed a bit. I comforted him after timed intervals and it worked! 17 minutes into it he was asleep, and they both napped for 2.5 hours! They woke happy, and refreshed, and smiling.

Wednesday Evening - Same routine as at nap time. Bubba fell asleep after 6 minutes. Squeaks woke up and fussed. I patted her belly and she fussed another 5 minutes. I patted again, and noticed she was dirty. I changed her diaper, nursed her (not to sleep but just a little longer) and put her down and she went right out! They slept from 9PM-4AM when they woke for their next feed.

Thursday Naps: They took two 2 hour naps, no fussing.

Thursday Evening: Not even 5 minutes in Bubba was asleep, and after less than 10 minutes, Little Miss Squeaks was sleeping too! 

I have to tell you. I was really, really scared to try to sleep train them, and I know we still have a ways to go before we have this down pat, but while it was something I never would have imagined myself doing, seeing how well it has gone and how much happier they seem to be and how much more ready to play they are because of it, I am so grateful to have given it a try. 

So... that is what Bubba and Squeaks

have been up to this week...

What have your rainbows been doing?

Wanna know how you can participate?


It's easy!


Just write a post on your own blog about what your Rainbow(s) has been up to this week, and then add the link to that post in the Linky widget below. 


Thanks for riding along on the rodeo!

Snake Oil Salesman

I called a psychic last week.

Yes... I know.

I was out taking a little "mental health drive" with the babies in the back, and just praying, praying, praying! that they might take a nap (which of course, they didn't) when I flipped to a midday talk show hosted by a woman that I can best describe as "flighty." She is super syrupy sweet, usually offers self evident self help tips, and I am pretty sure that I am about 40 years younger than her listening demographic, but what can I say? She had a psychic on and I got sucked in.

The callers before me asked questions like, "will my arthritis flair up again" (not kidding here) and I listened along, because really there was nothing else on the radio, and then all of the sudden the psychic told a caller about a spirit living in her house. The caller seemed to really believe what he was saying about this spirit and the messages the woman had received from her, and I can't help it... if there is even the remotest possibility of hearing Peyton in any way on the other end of the line, I am going to pick up the phone.

So I did.

I asked him two questions. The first was if I was going in the right direction with my writing. I wanted him to say something like, "I see a published manuscript in your future," but he didn't. He said, "if it feels right to write, then write,"
and I thought,
Really? I needed to call a psychic to tell me this crap? Of course you should write, if it feels right. How is that telling me the future? Ugh. 


I moved on to question #2, and taking a deep breath asked something to the affect of, "when I sense my daughter is with me, is that really her?"

Psychic: "You feel her often, don't you?"

Me: "Yes."

Psychic: "Maybe in the wind, or like a hand on your shoulder?"

A More Gullible Me: "Yes. Yes."


Now we were getting somewhere!


Psychic: "That's her."

Me: "It is?"

Psychic: "Yes, and she wants me to tell you something."

Me: "Really?"

Psychic: "She wants me to tell you about the frogs."

Me: "Frogs?"

Psychic: "Yes, or maybe it's Kermit the Frog. She says you would know. That it is an inside joke."

A Less Gullible Me: "An inside joke, huh?"

Psychic: "Yeah, from when she was a little girl."

Me: "Right. Okay then," *rolls eyes* "thanks."

Click!

What was the point of going any further?

I didn't have the heart to tell the guy that my daughter never was a "little girl."

She never got to that stage.

My daughter never saw a frog, let alone knew what one was, and she certainly didn't know who Kermit was.

This guy was full of bupkis.

Maybe he assumed I was the same age as the other women calling in?
Maybe he assumed my daughter died as an adult (it's an easy assumption to make) and was just throwing things out there to see what stuck?
Frogs...
Kermit the Frog...
That would have stuck for so many others, but not for me.

Butterflies - Yes.
Pinwheels - Yes.
Flickering Lights - Yes.
Frogs - No.

Oh well.

There's always next time.

Maybe the next Snake Oil Salesman will tell a more convincing tale.

***
As you may know, I am the Editor of the online literary magazine, Exhale. This week we put out our Summer issue, with the theme Time as our Enemy. Time as our friend. 

Piecing together the submissions for this issue took me on a real journey emotionally. About a year after Peyton died I wrote the poem, Father Time, and as soon as we had decided on the theme, I knew I wanted to include the piece.

I was surprised by the sucker punch I felt in re-reading it.
In re-reading the sense of hopelessness in my words:


That maybe in some future space,
a genuine smile will claim this face,
as in my arms I hold a child,
whose future has not been defiled.
By Disease. Infection. Despair.
A child whose shot at life is fair.

But then it hit me.

I did that.
I created two beautiful, perfect, healthy babies.

I didn't know that was possible when I wrote the poem... but I do now.

I remember how it felt writing that poem.
I remember every emotion that I felt pouring it out onto the page.

Going back to it was like revisiting a dark, early chapter in my grief and infertility.

It was a reminder that we really can't ever count ourselves out.

There is always the possibility that things can improve.

I invite you all to check out the current issue of Exhale. In addition to poetry, essays, and fiction, we have a wonderful book review by Kathy Benson, and a great interview with infertility activist Keiko Zoll.

5th Friday Rainbow Baby Blog Rodeo - Join The Fun

Has your Rainbow hit a milestone this week?

Starred in a cute video?

Done something adorable? Funny? Downright embarrassing?

If you answered "yes" to any of the above questions, 

than you have come to the right place!

Welcome to the Friday Rainbow Baby Blog Rodeo, a place to celebrate the amazing children who have come into our lives after loss, and to strengthen our bond as a community of Rainbow parents.

Every Friday we can gather here to share our little ones' triumphs, brag like the proud parents that we are, and yes ... even own up to our epic fails in parenting (all in good fun of course) via links to our own blogs with posts about any and everything Rainbow from the week.

Feel free to grab the button from the sidebar and help spread the word. Let's bring this Rainbow parenting community together.

I will go first...

New Nicknames

I've been giving this a lot of thought, and for many reasons (not the least of which is just that it is boring always referring to the babies as H & K) I have decided that from now on I will refer to my little snowflakes on this blog by the nicknames Bubba and Squeaks.

Bubba has had his nickname since birth. To be honest, I am not sure that he knows he has any other name. To me, the boy just looks like a Bubba. 

Strong.

Barrel chested.

Big hands and feet.

I sort of imagine that he is going to grow up to look like this guy...

Squeaks, on the other hand, just recently earned this nickname, as she has been working really hard to find her voice. Whether four in the morning, or four in the afternoon, Squeaks...well...squeaks! 

Just watch the video and see for yourself. 

(Please excuse my voice on the video. Yuck! Am I the only one that hates to hear her own voice on video?)

Notice that I have to hide the camera to catch any of this squeaking action, because as soon as I am spotted, Squeaks stops. 

Silly girl!

That is what Bubba and Squeaks

have been up to this week...

So, tell me, what have your rainbows been doing?

Wanna know how you can participate?


It's easy!


Just write a post on your own blog about what your Rainbow(s) has been up to this week, and then add the link to that post in the Linky widget below. 


Thanks for riding along on the rodeo!