July 12, 2011

I miss Max.  I really, really miss him.  I miss everything about him—his smiles; his goofy laugh (the kind of laugh that people would have remembered him by as he got older); his big, beautiful eyes that searched every face he saw; the way he would turn his head to find me when he heard my voice; his soft, dark hair that curled when it was wet (that really surprised me since neither Scott nor I have any curl whatsoever); his long, lean legs that flailed and kicked in appreciation when I changed his diaper; even his little cry that sounded forced and sometimes made his bottom lip tremble.  I could go on and on about the things that I miss about Max.  Simply said, I just miss him.  And I know that other people miss Max too.  A lot of other people.  I still can’t believe sometimes how popular he was for a five-week old.  It was impossible for people to visit us and not smile when they met Max.  I am absolutely convinced that he would have brought joy to every person he ever met had he lived beyond 37 days.  He was just that type of dude.

I know I keep writing about my friends and family, but I can’t help it.  They are amazing.  I don’t mean to single anyone out, but I’ve been thinking a lot about a few people specifically.  I wish I could write about every single person who has helped me since Max died, but I’m pretty sure I would exceed my size limit for this website.  I know that “size limit” is not the technical term for it, but I’m not about to go searching for the right one.  I know a certain student teacher who would think that term is just plain “appropriation.”  My teacher friends know who I’m talking about…

One of the people I’ve been thinking a lot about is my best friend, Nicole.  I’ve always known that Nicole is amazing.  And I’ve always admired her for the person she just naturally is.  She is selfless, considerate, generous, funny, loyal, and honest (sometimes to a fault maybe).  In a word, Nicole is my perfect friend.  We joke that we are the same person, and we kind of are.  I wouldn’t like my job nearly as much as I do if I weren’t surrounded by my awesome co-workers, Nicole included.  Not many people get to work with their best friend; I am so lucky for that.  Nicole was very involved with my pregnancy.  Truth be told, she knew I was pregnant before Scott did.  Scott was in court when I called him, so I called Nicole.  I had to tell someone!  Nicole knew what I was going to say before I even told her.  That might be a testament to how linked we are.  She was so excited to hear about every doctor appointment I had, and she cried when she felt Max move for the first time.  She felt him move a lot, and I’m so thankful that she did.  Nicole was at the hospital when Max was born.  When she held him for the first time, she cried.  I remember watching her hold Max; she treated him with such care and love.  Her eyes were full of tears, but her whole face was smiling.  I also remember Nicole telling me how excited she was to watch Max grow into a man.  She was looking forward to being a huge part of his life, and she would have been.  Nicole spent many days at our house after we brought Max home.  She held him with that same tenderness, caressed his hair, and talked to him in a soothing voice.  Max was showered with affection from his Aunt Nicole, and I’ll forever treasure those memories of Nicole and Max. 

I think a lot about Nicole now because she is about to embark on her own journey into married life and maybe even parenthood.  I worry that the loss of Max, along with the sudden and tragic loss of her cousin and close friend in January, will dissuade her from having children.  I worry because Max died on Nicole’s birthday, and because I know that Nicole is grieving not only for her own loss of Max, but also for mine.  It must be hard for friends like Nicole to deal with a loss like this.  Her grief is compounded because it is not only for Max, but for me as well.  I’ve talked with Nicole about my worries, and she assures me that the tragedies of this year will not affect her decision.  I know that’s a bunch of bologna (bull-og-na; pronunciation courtesy of aforementioned student teacher).  All I can say is that I hope Nicole has children.  I want her to experience that overwhelming joy and love and purpose that children bring to their parents’ lives, and I want a child to be lucky enough to call her “mommy.”  I also want a chance to repay her for all of the happiness and love that she gave to Max and me.  Who knows, maybe we’ll be pregnant at the same time…

Another person who I think about a lot is my mom.  My mom is an amazing person.  She is actually a lot like Nicole.  She is selfless, funny, affectionate, and compassionate.  She is one of the strongest women I know, although she tries to disagree with me on that point.  So, I guess she’s very modest also.  My mom is a hospice nurse, and I have absolutely no doubt that she is the best hospice nurse in the universe.  She deals with death every day.  She provides comfort and relief to her patients and their families, and she is damn good at her job.  None of that matters when it’s your grandson, though.  My mom loves her grandchildren, and she loves her children too.  She was so happy that Scott and I decided to add Max to our family, and she was also at the hospital with us when Max was born.  She held my hand through the whole process.  There were times during my labor when I called for my “mommy” because I knew that she could help me in ways that only a mom can.  And yes, I still call my mom “mommy.”  My mom spent a lot of time with Max.  She was over nearly every weekend after he was born, and she was his first and only babysitter for an afternoon.  When Scott and I returned from running errands and eating lunch, my mom was beaming.  She had a great afternoon with Ethan and Max.  She got to see Max smile and listen to him laugh.  I remember her saying to me, “I thought you were crazy when you told me Max was smiling and laughing, but you aren’t.  He is smiling, and he is laughing.  He is happy.” 

I’m so glad that my mom got to experience the joy that Max brought us.  And I’m so sorry that she has to experience the loss along with us.  I really believe that grandparents’ feel pain doubly when they lose a grandchild.  They are mourning the loss of their grandchild, but they are also grieving for the loss that their own child has endured.  Every parent’s worst fear is something painful happening to his/her own child, whether it’s physical injury, emotional pain, or even death.  So, imagine what a parent feels when his/her own child loses a child.  I know that my mom worries for me, but I worry for her too because I know that Max’s death has left a heavy burden on her.  She’s sad, and I’m sad for her.  People often forget about grandparents in situations like this.  They focus on the parents of the baby who has died, but there are so many more people who need some of that love and support too.  Max had an entire family full of people who loved him and who miss him dearly.  And Scott and I have parents who love us and who worry about us every second of every day.  So—mommy, daddy, Jim, Betty, Justin, Cheryl, and Stephanie—I think about you guys all the time too, and I’m so sorry for the pain that you are all experiencing too.