Takes one to know one?

Today I went to look into an author who has captured the heart of my C.T. with her book "Hello Shoes". It's a sweet story of a boy who has a favorite pair of shoes -- sandle shoes with buckles on the sides. The shoes are needed for an outing with grandpa and they are nowhere to be found. Grandfather and grandson go in search of the shoes all around the house. Ultimately, boy and shoes are reunited and the story culminates when the boy declares he will fasten them himself (something he has never done before).

Though the book gives absolutely no reference to it, I just had this feeling that the author had lost a child. I found her book listing on amazon and then her autobiography on answers.com (I think). And sure enough - she has a deceased son.

This is not the first time I have instinctively known that someone is carrying the loss of a child..., but it is the first time I have known it without actually laying eyes on -- or connecting eyes with -- the person.

Strange,... no?

Honest Scrap

Well, gosh, thank you Shanti Mama for the Honest Scrap Award:)!

1. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs you find brilliant in content or design.

I am pretty sure the blogs I follow have already been awarded this Honest Scrap award, so I won't re-award them! You know who you are -- all of you brilliant and your stories beautiful.

2. Show the 7 winners’ names and links on your blog, and leave a comment informing them that they have won the Honest Scrap award.

See 1. above

3. List at least 10 honest things about yourself. Here goes, off the top of my head, and in no particular order...

1. Phil Collins is my favorite music artist of all time. I really "get" him and his songs just speak to me.

2. My biggest regret in life (and I have quite a few, mostly associated with the time I spent with B.W. before and after his birth) is not bringing our own camera to the hospital when B.W. was born. We were heartbroken and out of sorts (obviously an understatement), trying to pack a bag. The hospital had reassured us that they would take pictures for us -- which they did, we saw the pictures. Unfortunately, those precious photos were lost forever before they were printed or uploaded. The hospital camera was even sent to an professional lab to retrieve the deleted photos. They were somehow corrupted. We have NO pictures of our firstborn. It was devastating. It IS devastating. I mourn the loss of those photos everyday - literally everyday I think about them. We attempt to piece together his image in our brains, quite often actually, but we can't seem to describe his chin to each other. I hate that.

3. I loathe lazy people, but I've learned to adapt to them. (Certainly can't avoid them in this life!)

4. I often wish I had pursued dance as a career, and 2 things prevented me from actually doing it: 1) my parents urging that it would be too difficult and would not pay the bills and 2) my genuine fear of failure. In all reality though, I wouldn't have my boys in this scenario and I wouldn't trade them for anything.

5. I majored in actuarial science in college. What can I say - I love math. I know, what a geek!

6. I need a new hobby or activity. A new "thing" that's just about me. Help, anyone? Just kidding... I think I actually need to figure this one out on my own.

7. I worry about everything - losing another child, money, work, abused children, starvation in third world countries, the economy - you name it. I know many women wrestle with worry, but I often feel extraordinarily plagued by it.

8. Losing my son has taught me many lessons. One is that I faced the reality of having authentic vs. casual (and often superficial) relationships. Though I continue to have both types of relationships, I have chosen to weed out many of the casuals and am well aware of my two buckets. Honestly it was much easier when I didn't fully recognize the difference.

9. I am terrified to speak in front of groups, which is no doubt linked to my fear of failure (see 4. above)

10. I have known my husband for more than half of my life. We dated in high school, had a stint apart in college and were married a year after graduation. I couldn't have chosen a better partner for life.

Something positive... please

B has been hurting. Pretty badly. His job, one that is tied explicitly to the financial markets, has been bringing him down for months now. Each day he puts on his suit and faces the demise of the system he is supposed to champion. It wears on him to give client after client bad news -- there has literally been nothing positive to come of his work days in six months. Clients can be extremely unfriendly (okay, it's definitely worse than that) in this environment of fear. He is anxiety ridden, sometimes plagued with mini panic attacks. And there is no real end in sight.

My father has been out of work for 11 months. My mom has MS -- for 20 years now. She is confined to a wheelchair and suffers a great deal. The COBRA insurance, medical expenses and drug costs are outrageous for anyone, especially a family whose single earner is not working. And there is no real end in sight.

My brother-in-law is still technically employed though they haven't "worked" him in several months. My sister and he have been trying to support their family with his side jobs and on the small amount I pay her to watch C.T. while I'm at work. And there is no real end in sight.

As B and I lay in bed talking last night, worry filling our hearts and eyes unable to relax, B begins to recount B.W.'s birth and the precious time we had with him. We close our eyes and talk about his perfect fingers and toes, the sweet little taste buds on his tongue, his broad chest, the bit of dark hair on his soft head. And for a few minutes, our anxiety is replaced by tearful and beautiful memories of our firstborn. This happens often for us. We get down -- more and more about everyday things -- and we remind ourselves that the most beautiful and gushing love we have ever experienced is inseparably tied to our son's death. (C.T.'s birth being equally beautiful and gushing, with a completely different outcome.)

My boys remind me that beauty and hope and love can be found in all sorts of situations, circumstances and outcomes - from the good to the utterly devastating. I don't feel this way every day. In fact, I might feel differently tomorrow. But I've come a long way...

Sleepy

I am so tired. I started this blog to try and unload a bit, but I'm not finding adequate time to do it effectively. Work has been too busy, it feels like I never make a real dent in my (home) to-do list and I scarcely find time for the good cry I am needing re: B.W. Aren't the holidays over? Shouldn't this ease up a little bit?

Perhaps I need to be okay with the to-do list going undone occasionally. But, who will "do" it? And when will they do it? B helps a lot, but most of this stuff requires that I'm involved... this is, if I am to be satisfied with the result.

Perhaps I need not devote every waking, non-working minute to C.T. He will be in shock - and really, I can only keep him busy playing/"reading" alone for 5-10 minutes. Probably my own doing, yes. But he is just 1 year old.

OK. Done complaining. I know most (okay ALL) busy moms are in about the same boat. Potentially minus the dead child factor, which so often cripples those of us who live this life.

One more complaint... B signed us up at the Y in early January because I said I wanted to find time to "be active" once a week. I have yet to get my photo ID taken, which tells you I have NOT been there to exercise yet! I guess this speaks more to my inability to get it together than it is a valid complaint.

Ahhhhhhh.