I wrote a post earlier, but my magical touch with technology
came into play. Not only did I
manage to not post what I had written, but I also managed to delete nearly
everything from the home page of my website. It’s not the first time it’s happened, so I’ve been backing
everything up like crazy. Still,
it was frustrating and time consuming to fix. I decided to take my new dog for a walk with the family
instead of working on it. When I
came back, I fixed it, but I didn’t really like what I had written. I wrote it in a hurry, and I was really
searching for words instead of just letting them come to me naturally. I decided to scrap what I had and start
from scratch. I had a few
ideas—write about my most recent trip to the fire station (I only went once
this time), maybe share the events of my day (aforementioned dog was obtained
today). In the end, I went back to
an old favorite: lists. I have always loved making lists. I usually keep them in my purse and
then throw them out months or years later. I rarely use them, and most of them would make no sense to
anyone other than myself. I make
lists of things to buy at the store, books to check out at the library, events
in chronological order (I have a bad memory), conversation topics to bring up
during phone conversations, and decoration ideas. I love lists.
There’s just something cleansing about getting what’s in your head out
on to paper. Interesting then that
I’ve started this blog since that is exactly what I’m doing now—transferring
from my head to the screen. The
interwebs, if you will. Without
further adieu, my lists…
Things I See Daily That Remind Me of Max:
1. Blue Valley
Recreation Center—the week that Max died, he and I took Ethan to an Outdoor
Explorers class every day. My mom
took him the day that Max died. I
don’t think I’ll ever step foot in that building again. It represents the immediate “before”
and the sudden change to “after.”
We also took Ethan to Open Gym there. Every one gushed over how beautiful Max was and asked me a
million questions about him. I
wouldn’t be able to stand it if anyone recognized me and asked about Max.
2. Max’s
bedroom door—it stays closed, but I see if every day. It’s still exactly as Max left it. Scott threw away Max’s Diaper Genie a few weeks ago. That was hard for him. It was full of dirty diapers, and there
was a wet diaper in the trash can that he carried gently down the stairs and
into the garage. He cradled it as
if Max were still in it. How
heartbreaking. I really admire him
for doing that. We aren’t putting
pressure on ourselves to change anything just yet. I know moms who have moved hanging clothes belonging to
their dead babies to guest bedrooms when a new baby arrived. I have a feeling I’ll be following in
their footsteps. I also decided that
I don’t want to paint the walls.
Ever. Max peed on the wall
beside his changing table at least ten times. The funny thing is that I never got mad or frustrated or
annoyed when he did it. I laughed
and cleaned it every time. I’m
glad for that now.
3. The Back
Seat of My Car—the dents from Max’s car seat are still visible in my back
seat. In a way, I hope they’ll
always be there.
4. Max’s
Strollers—these are in the garage next to my car. One of them is a jogging stroller that I never even got to
use with Max. He needed to be 6
months old or able to sit up on his own in order to safely ride in it. I feel like an idiot for buying it now,
but how was I supposed to know that he wouldn’t live that long?
5. Scott’s
Hair—it’s thick, soft, and black, just like Max’s. It’s one of my favorite things about Scott, and it was one
of my favorite things about Max.
When I touch it, I can still imagine touching Max’s hair sometimes. I hope Scott never goes bald. J
6. My
Reflection in the Mirror—everything about me reminds me of Max. My body-the visible signs that I
carried Max inside me for 10 months; my face-he had my eyes, nose, mouth,
EVERYTHING; the sad look in my eyes-it’s me missing Max; even when I smile-that’s
how Max saw me most of the time.
7. Music—okay,
so I don’t technically see music, but
this is my list, so I make the rules.
There was something about music that calmed Max down. Not lullabies, real music. Specifically, rock music. There were many days and nights when
you could find Scott rocking Max with his iPhone playing classic rock or me
holding him in our bathroom singing songs from the new Foo Fighters album to
him. We took our little iHome with
us wherever we went and played what our little man desired. He would stare up at us, wide-eyed and
curious. Sometimes he would fall
asleep. The night of the Foo
Fighters concert was going to be Max’s first overnight stay with grandma and
papa. I imagined how worried we
would be to leave him for the first time.
It would have been hard, but it would have made coming home to Max that
much more rewarding. I think that
night will be hard for different reasons now.
Another list…
My Nicknames for Max:
1. Maxi-poo
2. Maxi
3. Maxi-Max
4. Max Man
5. My Little
Man
6. Baby Max
And another…
Things NOT to Say to Me (or Scott):
1. He’s in a
better place—There is no “better” place for a baby to be than with his loving,
nurturing, protective parents and big brother.
2. At least he
was only 5 weeks old—A parent’s love isn’t measured by how long her children
live. Do parents begin with no
love and then build more as their children get older? Do you love your 18-year-old more than you love your 12-year-old?
3. At least it
wasn’t Ethan—It shouldn’t have been either of my children. Or anyone else’s.
4. Things
happen for a reason—Even if they do, I’m having a hard time finding a “reason”
for Max’s death right now. Keep
this one to yourself for now.
I’m sure there are many more
offensive and insensitive things that have been said to parents who have lost
children, but I’ve been lucky. I have
been comforted, supported and uplifted by the words of friends, family, and
strangers. I’m lucky to count my
coworkers among my closest friends, especially since I return to work tomorrow. I’m feeling anxious and apprehensive,
but I also feel ready. I wouldn’t
say that I’m excited, but I’m ready.
That’s pretty darn good for me right now.
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