My Journal of Heartache...and Hope

Our son Max was born on May 4, 2011. Life was busy, happy, and perfect for 37 days. Then, it wasn't.
A look back at our life before Max, with Max, and what comes after...

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

August 11, 2011--Pieces of Max


            I returned to work yesterday.  Oh boy.  It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, but in a lot of ways it was hard.  I had a few breakdowns, but I think I did pretty well over all.  My coworkers handled me well too.  I dreaded walking in to the annual “Welcome Back” breakfast, but my coworkers were sitting right there waiting to welcome me.  Nicole even came to the front door to meet me and give me a big hug.  I needed that.  I think it gave me the courage and reassurance that I needed to walk into a room full of over a hundred people who may or may not have known that my baby boy died this summer.  I made it through our morning meetings with the help of my friends.  Nicole and Pam insisted that we go down to Nicole’s room after breakfast, and I don’t tell those women no under any circumstances.  Nicole had brought two blue balloons for me.  See, yesterday was also the two month “anniversary” of Max’s death.  Talk about bad timing for my first day of work.  We let off one blue balloon on July 10th, so we let off two blue balloons yesterday.  Pam also gave me a new charm to add to my growing “Max” necklace.  It was a little blue baby shoe with Max’s name engraved on the bottom.  I absolutely loved both gifts.  I also got a pretty little box full of goodies from another friend.  One of the goodies is a patterned notepad, and she had attached a note that said, “For your lists…”  It might sound silly, but I don’t know how the day would have gone if Laura, Nicole, and Pam hadn’t started it by giving me some incredibly thoughtful, meaningful gifts.  There was kindness, reassurance, and love in all of those gifts.  They gave me confidence and made me believe that I could get through the day.  They let me know that I’m not alone or forgotten; I have wonderful friends who also won’t let Max be forgotten.  I love them for that.
            I did have a little meltdown a little bit later, but it was good in a way.  We have a few new teachers in our department this year, and one of them pulled me aside after our department meeting.  She explained to me that she knew all about Max and that she has been reading this website.  She told me how sorry she was and how helpful the website had been to her in trying to understand what I’m going through.  She was so genuine and articulate.  I really admire people like her, and I am in awe of the courage that she mustered up to approach a complete stranger and pour her heart out in such an eloquent way.  I also appreciate her helping me avoid an awkward moment.  I wasn’t sure if she knew about Max or not, and I wasn’t sure how or if to approach it.  She also happens to be pregnant, so I might have just avoided telling her all together.  I remember how troubled I was when I heard about my new friend, Brie, having a stillborn little girl when I was pregnant, so I really might have just tried to spare her from that.  In the end, I’m glad that she knows.  And I’m so thankful that she talked to me about it, even if it made me cry.  They were good tears.  What I mean is that they were the kind of tears that feel good to get out, the kind that make you feel a sense of relief when they come.
            By the time I finally made it up to my room, I had survived almost three hours at work.  But to be fair, I was sobbing when I got to my door.  It was right after my new conversation with my new, pregnant coworker, and I just couldn’t stop the tears.   My long-term sub from last year was actually in my room getting books organized and cleaning up a little.  She sent me an email earlier in the week asking if she could come help me.  I don’t know how it does, but it still amazes me that people can be so selfless and thoughtful.  I chatted with her for a bit, and then I sat down at my desk.  One of my friends, Donna, had gone into my room earlier in the week and left me a card and a huge bag full of red Starburst candies.  Whenever I walk by her desk, I steal a red Starburst from her candy bowl, so she and another coworker, Linda, had spent days opening new packages of Starburst and picking out all of the red ones.  I was amazed and touched.  Do you see how incredible my friends are?  The card was absolutely perfect.  It talked about all of the positive things that I’m doing and planning on doing in Max’s memory.  It was nice to hear someone affirm to me that I’m doing good things in the wake of such a horrible event in my life.
            After I popped a few red Starbursts, I started looking through my drawers.  Man, I was not ready for what was inside.  List after list of things to do to get Max insured, paperwork to turn in for maternity leave, classes to enroll in at the hospital, things I had ordered from Babies R Us.  

The List of Things Found in My Desk Pertaining to Max:
1.  Notes about maternity leave
2.  Lesson plans for my sub during maternity leave
3.  List of steps to complete to add Max to our health insurance
4.  A website for help in finding a daycare provider for Max
5.  My FMLA paperwork
6.  Receipt for an online order from Babies R Us
7.  An unopened picture frame with “BABY” at the top of it—a gift from a co-worker
8.  The decaf coffee that I drank while I was pregnant
9.  A gigantic card from some of my students

It’s funny that my blog post from the night before had been a bunch of lists.  I’ll take that as a little sign from Max.  It was hard seeing these things.  Really, really, really hard.  It made me want that life again.  The life that I still think that I should be living.  It made me want that naïveté back.  I guess I just want that life that doesn’t involve the death of my child.  It made me remember how happy I was, and how excited I was to be completing my family with our second little boy.  It made me remember how proud I was that Scott and I had chosen the most perfect name for our little boy.  I’ll probably never feel exactly that way again because even if I have something promising to look forward to, I’ll always know exactly how easily things can go wrong.  I hate the thought of never being able to enjoy unconditional happiness again.  I really hate that Max isn’t here making me feel unconditional happiness and love.  I really, really hate it.
During one of my stops in the office, I saw a student.  I’ve never had her in class, but I know her.  She is so sweet.  She is thoughtful, polite, soft-spoken.  She is just plain nice.  Oddly enough, I had just had a conversation with another person about how sweet this girl is.  She smiled and said hi, and then she asked me the question that I’ve been dreading for exactly two months:  “How’s your baby?”  She said it with a huge smile on her face, surely expecting me to smile in return and say, “He’s doing great!” and maybe even show her some pictures.  Instead, I had to walk over to her and explain that Max died in June.  I felt horrible that I had to be the one to tell her.  I hate that I made such a happy, nice, innocent girl feel so terrible.  Sure, it was awful for me, but think about how horrible it must have felt to be her in that moment.  I’m really hoping that doesn’t happen very often.  I know that it will happen, but I hope that won’t be a regular thing.
I went back up to my room that was full of reminders.  I sat down and tried to do some more work, but my heart wasn’t in it.  Neither was my brain.  Still, I pressed on.  I pulled another stack of papers out of a drawer and started organizing them.  On one of the sheets of paper, I found three quotes that I had typed up last year at the beginning of my pregnancy.  They were from The Book Thief, a book that I absolutely admire and love.  It’s also incredibly sad and heart-wrenching.  And it involves death.  Lots of it.  It is actually told from the point of view of Death.  In the book, Death actually has feelings.  He hates his job sometimes, especially when he has to take children.  I copied maybe twenty quotes from the book in different fonts, and I used them for an activity in Writer’s Workshop, a class that I teach on creative writing.  For whatever reason, I hadn’t used the three quotes that I found yesterday.  Instead, I had folded that piece of paper and placed it in my desk drawer for me to find months later, after ten months of pregnancy, the birth of a beautiful baby boy, and then his death.  When I found them yesterday, I decided to call it a day.

The Quotes I Found in My Desk:
1.  “Don’t punish yourself,” she heard her say again, but there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness, too.  That was writing.
2.  Where was Max’s comfort?  Where was someone to alleviate this robbery of his life?  Who was there to soothe him as life’s rug was snatched out from under his sleeping feet?
No one.
There was only me.
3.  I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race—that rarely do I ever simply estimate it.  I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.

            The second quote actually contained a _______ where I’ve placed Max’s name, but I decided to fill in his name.  I think my reasons are obvious.
            On a side note (it wouldn’t be a typical post without a side note, right???), I am not at all in the habit of starting books and not finishing them.  I can probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve done that.  This habit has led me to completing some pretty awful books, but I just can’t stand the idea of not finishing something.  There is one book that I started reading this summer that I won’t be completing, though.  It’s the book I was reading when Max died.  It’s called A Lesson Before Dying.  Not interested.

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