A funny thing happened...

A bunch of us were leaving a monthly support group last night, which happens to be held in a hospital. Some moms, particularly those who gave birth and/or lost their babies in that hospital do not feel comfortable going into the building alone, if at all. Many of us still feel uncomfortable at the sight of babies and pregnant women, and the maternal-fetal medicine unit is a few floors down from where our meetings are held.

On our own, the feelings we each get when faced with a very pregnant woman or a newborn baby usually involve dread, sadness, fear, panic, anger, jealousy, agitation, isolation, and a whole host of other emotions. Well, last night, after just discussing this very thing in our group, we all got on the elevator to leave, the elevator stopped a few floors down, and a whole gang of big pregos got on. I say "gang" because it did feel a little bit like the socs vs. the greasers. Somehow, together we were able to laugh. I guess it wasn't funny ha-ha, but funny surreal.

One is silver, the other is...old

I made an observation to my friends on SPALS recently about how the relationships I have with friends I have met or become closer to since Julian was born seem more open and honest. One of the responses I got really struck me. A woman said, "They don't know the old you, so they aren't waiting for her to come back."

I find that some family members and old friends have an expectation that I am going to get better or get over my son so that they can relate to me again. This has been a real frustration for me. I would like to think that I would be a little more sensitive and mindful, even if I had not had this experience. What some people fail to realize is, having my son has changed me forever, for better and for worse. This is who I am now, this is my reality, this is my new "normal."

If I could dream you awake...

I had a dream about my little boy last night. Immediately after he died, I had dreams that were more like anxiety-induced nightmares in which my mind replayed scenes from his birth and death over and over again, trying to make sense of the reality that he was gone.

Last night's dream was different. He was not a newborn, but a 7 month old baby, as he would be now. In my dream, he still had cardiomyopathy, but he didn't die, and he was home with us growing big and strong. I kept taking photos of him in his crib, which was probably influenced by something I had been reading about vintage memorial photography in my waking life. When I picked him up, I felt like I could really smell and feel him. He kept saying "ya-ya."

The dream didn't upset me at first, but as the day has gone by, I guess it has made me a little sad. Some people would believe that this was his way of telling me that he's okay now, although his spirit has taken a different form. I'm not sure what to believe. I just miss him. No matter what anyone says, I do feel that I continue to have a relationship with him on some level. I guess I'm just trying to figure out what that is.

Tattoos for Julian

Robert and I got tattooed during our recent visit to my hometown during the Ann Arbor Art Fair. The experience was emotional and painful, yet pleasurable and healing at the same time. Artwork and tattoos were crafted by the lovely and amazing Jeff Zuck.


Daddy's tattoo


Mommy's tattoo

July 4th Fireworks

View of 4th of July fireworks from our apartment.