Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

-Robert Frost

I officially hate this blog.

Warning: this is a long rambling vent where at the end I think I decide to stop writing this blog.

I hate that I haven't been able to post as often as I'd like. Finding the time to blog while being a working mom of a living child is tough, but worse is the feeling that I have lots to say about the unique experience of being a mother of a subsequent baby but am too conflicted to find the words to fully express how I am feeling, or even if I could, I couldn't post them here because half the people who visit this blog only come by to see the cute baby pics I usually post when I'm feeling too stifled to speak my mind. Sometimes I wish I had chosen to remain anonymous when I started this so I wouldn't feel the need to self-censor. I have a lot to say and it's not all pretty and I'm not sorry. I am very capable of separating the love and joy I feel over my little girl from the sadness, anger, confusion, resentment, isolation, and loneliness I feel about my son's death and the impact it has had on my identity and interpersonal interactions, yet it's too easy for those outside the babyloss inner circle to interpret that to mean that I am not as far along as I "should" be in the grief process, that I need therapy, that I need to believe in a higher power, that I'm overly hostile or confrontational, that I don't love my daughter enough, that I'm not trying hard enough to move on, that I'm dwelling on the past, etc. If it's not already clear, any of those conclusions couldn't be further from the truth. Research and experience will tell you that all of this is normal and that it is absolutely possible to be a functional human being, hold down a job, be a loving mother and wife, feel what I feel, and not be certifiable. Most people just don't want to know, and I don't know if I blame them. I'm not going anywhere, and I fully intend to stay in touch with all the friends I have made in the blogosphere (thank you for everything!), but my heart isn't in this anymore. Perhaps at some point I will start a pink and fuzzy new blog fit for public consumption and another for those who inhabit the dark side. In the meantime, you can find some of my friends and me at http://babylossdirectory.blogspot.com/.

"Ya ya"

Natalie is 8 months old today. My, how the time flies. She continues to be an adorably social and charming baby, and I must begrudgingly admit that she has been uttering "dada" on a regular basis. (I'm not jealous or anything, but she doesn't really know what she's saying, right?)

This morning, I was struck by what has become another favorite vocalization: "ya ya." Nearly 2 years ago, I posted about a dream I'd had about Julian. In my dream, he was around the same age Natalie is now, and he was clearly saying "ya ya." Given that I've spent next to no time around babies until now, it's interesting to me that my subconscious conjured up an image of Julian that was fairly developmentally accurate. If I let my mind wander over to the supernatural side for a moment, I can almost let myself believe that Natalie was delivering a message from her big brother.

Important new joint project

Please take a moment to check out the new Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infant Loss Blog Directory, a collaborative effort by some of us in Blogland. Thanks so much to delphi for getting this going. Please send in any relevant resources you think may be useful to others who have experienced the tragic loss of a child.

Happy Day

A Place to Turn When a Newborn is Fated to Die

Please read this important article in today's New York Times.

There's a library in my closet!

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I've been busy deciding not to do the PhD and a bunch of other related stuff (long story, but I'd pretty much rather hang out with the sweet, charming, well-dressed, funny, and emotionally intelligent Natalie than, well... draw your own conclusions).

Natalie's doing great. She's eating solids twice a day, sitting up on her own, and developing her own unique sense of humor. We are planning our first trip together to visit the UK relatives, so please send any travel tips you can think of! In the meantime, I'll try to catch up with all my friends in Blogland.

(Thanks to Wondertime magazine for the fun decorating idea!)

Happy Valentine's Day!

We're still here!

I have this horrible fear that if I go too long between posts, you will all abandon me and I will have no one left to talk to. I'm sorry I've been out of touch lately. I'm still working part time and at home with Natalie part time. This is the best of both worlds, but the reality is that I am trying to fit full time work and full time mothering into two part time schedules, with very little time left for much else. So why, you might ask, would I be applying to a PhD program at this time? Don't ask. Anyway, not that I am complaining, because I love my little Muffaletta!

To chime in on the Dear Abby thing, that woman ("Abby") needs to be fired for incompetence. She's certainly no grief counselor or HR specialist, and apparently she's not much of a humanitarian either, and is sorely lacking in tact and grace. There's not much else I can say that hasn't already been said by all you industrious bloggers, but I just wanted to show that I was still paying attention.

All is well in our world at the moment. To summarize, 1. Natalie's still somewhere around the 50th percentile, a little on the petite side, but super strong and on the verge of sitting up on her own. She may, in fact, go straight to walking and skip the crawling stage, which is hopefully a sign of ambition and genius and nothing to be worried about. 2. We started solids a few weeks ago, which is going...okay. Maybe she'll take after Robert's side of the family and learn to bypass the buffet. The verdict so far is rice cereal: so-so; sweet potato: lovin' it; banana: not so much. 3. After months of being down on the Doctors Sears for my own failings as an attachment parent, it turns out we are co-sleeping by default (it's the only way the princess will sleep through the night). Is there such a thing as a baby who can't be Ferberized? As my SIL, Rosemary, says, "They're very cunning, these babies."

Nearly 6 months old!