Is the Plane Moving Mommy?

“Is it Mom? IS IT?  Are we going yet?  Is. The. Plane. GOING???”

This is an all too familiar version of the same relentless “Are we there yet” banter which accompanies every trip with kids, without fail.  This time we were all going to Maui.

Translation:  we were going to be on this very crammed aircraft for a really long time.

“Look out the window,”  I say.  “Can you see everything moving past?”

Noo,” my five-year old son says, “I caaannn’t”.  (Insert pained and impatient overtone).  “It is just clouds out there.  And they are not moving at all.”

“It’s ok buddy, we are moving.  I promise.” I tell him.

Trust  me.”

Five minutes later and at constant five-minute intervals for the duration of that flight, my little guy would ask,

“Are we almost there Mommy?  Are we there yet? WHEN will we be there Mom, WHEN?  This is taking so so long!”

“Be patient Oli.  I know being patient is hard.” I would say.

I should have just put that response on voice recorder and played it to him on repeat.  That way I might have been able to read a page of my book or shut my eyes for a while.  Retrospective genius is so unhelpful.

This conversation is familiar to me, and not just because I have it with all of my kids every time we take a trip.  It is the talking track which has looped endlessly in my own head everyday for the last few months.  I am having the conversation with the Big Guy Upstairs.  It goes something like this:

“Hey!  Excuse me? Sorry to interrupt but, am I getting anywhere close?  I mean am I getting anywhere closer to where it is I want to be?  Is this even the direction I am supposed to go?  Can you please give me some clue as to what that ‘right place’ looks like anyway?  At this point, I am pretty sure I wouldn’t recognize it if I saw it.”

I have these uncertainties because this plane or train or bus that I am a passenger on, seems like it is at a virtual standstill……kind of like the train my then soon-to-be-husband and I once rode from Jaipur to Varanasi, India.  This train moved, but there was as much sideways momentum as there was movement forward.

Lately I feel like this.  I have experienced tons of change.  Much of it has not been predictable and most of it seems meant just to shake me up, not move me in the general direction toward “Better.”  You are just journeying down this road of life, naively believing that everything is mostly always, pretty great. Then WHAMMO!  You get crosschecked, hard, right into the boards, and nothing is ever the same again.

Ever.  Even when it all looks the same, it is not.

So many things that I thought were’ done deals’, have fallen apart well after the point falling apart should have been possible. Samuel dying at 40 weeks and 3 days inside my womb was the first event in this series of the unexpected.  Clearly none of these other changes have had the devastating impact that did.

Compared to losing my baby, frankly, all other challenges pale.  My work situation, plans for graduate school, childcare; all of these facets of my life have abruptly changed over these past few months.  And each of these things have affected the others like an ironic game of dominos, jarring me into a sort of stunned standstill, and rendering me incapable of making decisions or trusting any I have already made.

These events are truly just bumps on the road of life.  But none-the-less, even a series of small bumps over time can create a sort of mental-emotional whiplash.  The cumulative effects are noticeable.  One begins to wonder what the hell is going on when every plan seems to get turned on its side over and over again.

It is not at all devastating, but all of this change of plans stuff is certainly surprising, annoying and somewhat confusing.  Will any path will lead anywhere you expect it to?  The over-uttered adage, “Everything happens for a reason,” becomes terribly trite and annoying at a point.

Maybe the message is this;

“Just sit back and let Me move this train you are on.  Know that even though it doesn’t feel like the train is going anywhere at all, it is actually going so fast that you can’t feel it move.  Look out the window….do you see Me?  I am the clouds you are watching go by.  I am right here with you.  I promise.  Trust Me.”

I guess all of this change, this sideways momentum, is just there to remind me that movement is happening.  There is no doubt about that.  The plane is really moving after all.

Now I will just have to learn to sit back and be patient.  Maybe Oliver and I can learn together.

The “Why Have More Babies” Debate

This was the debate my hubby and I were having last night over a glass of wine.  Perhaps you can guess which side of the debate each of us were on?  I do, he doesn’t.  It is that simple.  And therefore it is so complicated.  It seems we cannot effectively have the conversation about another child without seriously reflecting on what it all means that our son died, what we have taken from this experience so far, and where we go from here.  We were “done” having children at four, and felt very pushed at the idea of five. Given our last pregnancy was a surprise and was a serious miracle at that, it seemed out of our hands and meant to be.  We were thrilled!  Our worlds both changed first because he lived, and then entirely because he died.  These changes have been uniquely profound for me, as the mother in the equation. Not that I believe my husband has not been changed.  He has, but our experience of this event has impacted us differently.

The physical and emotional connection I had with my baby was so immediate and tangible.  Nothing about Samuel was theoretical.  He was real time for me.  Every kick and turn and twitch I felt in my own body and heart all at the same time, and his health and safety was mine alone to ensure.  Or so I thought.  The loss of him did not protect me from all of the post partum experiences a mother of a new baby has.  I just didn’t get to have him to share them with.  My body had no outlet for the hormonal changes I was enduring.  It has been the single most painful thing I have ever gone through in my life.  And because of that, the lessons I am learning from this experience have been life altering.

When I reflect back on the loss of our little one, I can tell you that I had a sneaking suspicion, a funny sense, something that didn’t feel right, throughout my pregnancy.  Only in retrospect does it all fit together and I now recognize that this unsettled feeling foreshadowed that Samuel was not going to be with us in the end.  None of my gut feelings really served to change the outcome or prevent what happened to our baby, because his death wasn’t predictable or preventable.  This is the medically validated truth.  I am at peace with this fact now most of the time. Yet I am told by an experienced obstetrician that 99% of the mothers in his practice who have had still born babies subsequent to other live births, say that they too just didn’t feel right. They had a funny feeling, but they just didn’t know what it was.  Something felt distinctly different. Only later can we know what to attribute that feeling to.  

Because of this experience, I have resolved to reconnect with my gut feeling in a very intimate way.  I am purposely tuning into this intuition every day and giving it more airtime when I am trying to make decisions, big or small.  It is like Samuel is telling me “Mommy, listen to your heart.  Trust your instincts about every single thing.  Know that your mind cannot make sense of all of what you feel in a place that is deeper than your thoughts can reach.  Be in synch with your intuition and faith and follow it where it takes you.  Even if it doesn’t make sense.”  I imagine this is his voice speaking, because this is the most life changing and profound lesson my baby boy gave to me.  This was his gift.

So now my gut feeling is strongly telling me to go forth and make a baby!  The trouble is, my husband has to agree with my gut feeling’s advice.  That’s the tough part.  For him another child doesn’t “make sense.”  My gut feeling doesn’t care.  But as a responsible adult, I know that I must put a gag order on Mr Gut Feeling for a moment, and try to assess the idea of another baby from a pragmatic standpoint.  Husband is worried that I want a baby to replace the one we lost.  This seems a reasonable and even necessary thing to suggest, I am sure.  It must even seem like  a responsible question to ask.  But it makes me want to shout, “If it were only that simple, it would be done already!”  I swear with my right hand on the Bible, I am fully aware that replacing Samuel is not possible.  We are not talking about say, the dead cactus in the living room.  You pop it out of a pot, toss it, and in goes the new cactus.

Nope, this is not the same thing.  

However, losing a baby for whom you have prepared and made space, does leave a void in your life.  That space is his alone and it will always be there.  Protecting that space is your job as your child’s parent.  You say his name, show his picture, honour his memory and talk about him freely.  In doing so, the space continues to exist and remains only his forever.  But losing your baby also opens up the idea that there is room.  Maybe even room you didn’t think you had before, and now you know you do.  You hold the space in your life for a while and try to imagine different things that might fit there.  For me, the space is there for a new baby.  Nothing else fits like that does.  And nothing about that is pragmatic.  That is my loud mouthed gut feeling weighing in. I try to ignore it for a moment, so that I can think logically.  I ask myself, “If Samuel was here today, would we try to have another child?”  The answer is no.  “Did we ever plan for five?”  No.  “Would having another baby facilitate more life balance?”  Unequivocally no.  “Would having five be financially beneficial?”  Duh?  HELL no.  You don’t have kids because they make sense financially, ever.  “Can we afford one more?”  Probably, unless something went totally wrong, but the tally sheet is still in favour of the status quo. So why in the world are we even having this discussion?

Because it is a deep and unrelenting desire.    I feel it past the tips of my toes down to the depth of my soul.   And from there I feel peaceful and things feel right.  It is that simple.  There are practical disadvantages to having another baby in the short term for sure. But I also feel more willing and able to problem solve some inconveniences.  In our case these concerns are not remotely insurmountable.

So that is it.  I want another baby.  He is not convinced.  Now what? It is now just hubby and me and the bottle of wine.  We still aren’t on the same page.  Let’s hope we can both find some way to come together in a way that respects both of our hearts’ desires.

Wish us luck.