Congratulations

Writing is an interesting process....Sometimes you feel like writing and there's not a subject in the world that inspires you to put pen to paper (or fingers to keys).  Yesterday I was thinking, "I should write a new blog post."  But what should I write about?  Hmm... The holidays?  Work?  The tragedy at Sandy Hook?  My upcoming fertility specialist appointment?  Nothing struck me as "needing" to be written about.  A subject has to want to be written about - It has to call you, beckon you to explore it.  If it doesn't inspire you, forget it.  Since I couldn't decide on what to write about, I decided to just wait for a subject to come knocking at my door.  It would happen.  It always does....And it's rarely something I expected to write about.

My maternal grandfather is a proud Rotarian.  He always dreamed of one of his grandchildren studying abroad through the Rotary International Youth Exchange Program.  Lucky for him, two of his grandchildren partook in this amazing study abroad opportunity - my brother and myself.  I spent the most influential year of my life on the west coast of Norway during my junior year of high school, and Ian spent his sophomore year in Ireland and England.  While Ian was preparing for his year in the United Kingdom we met a lovely young lady named Sarah who was preparing to go to Italy.  Sarah was sweet and bubbly, with an infectious personality.  During her year in Italy she fell in love with a native Italian and eventually married him.  It was such a fairytale story.

I hadn't seen Sarah in many years, but I had heard that her first child, a baby girl, was stillborn.  I remember feeling very sad for her, but totally naive to her grief.  Little did I know that I would walk in her shoes one day.

After years and years and years I saw Sarah today.  She and her husband own a lovely little shop in downtown Bedford, PA, where they sell authentic Italian pastas and goods and host elegant Italian meals.  She looked beautiful - bright and vivacious - just as I remembered her.  She looked like life filled her and fulfilled her.  I told her about Jonah and she shared with me about her own loss, now six years ago.  She told me that she felt like she was "chosen" to be Sophia's mom and that she felt incredibly blessed to have had the time she had with her.  She said she felt like her experience shaped her into who she is and that she wouldn't have traded it.  Even with tears in her eyes, she spoke with such joy and pride for her first child....grateful for her existence and continued presence. As she spoke I thought about all the sadness that surrounds death.  So much sadness looms around Jonah's passing that it's hard to celebrate the joy of his birth, of his life.  While I feel the same pride in my baby as Sarah does, it's hard to look past the fact that he is not here and that my heart is so empty...  But just as I was absorbing Sarah's uplifting spirit regarding her precious daughter she said the most incredible thing to me.  She said, "Congratulations," and gave me a big hug. Congratulations on having a baby, on becoming a mom.  Sarah's words of congratulations completely caught me off guard - like an unfamiliar phrase in a learned language.  It took me a second to register its meaning. But my puzzlement quickly turned to gratefulness...That five syllable word swelled my heart and caused tears to run down my face.  The emotional response I had was overwhelming.    Congratulations...Such a foreign word to us...We have been surrounded by so many I'm sorry's and other sad condolences.  Since Jonah died I have not had a single person congratulate me on the birth of my son.  How quickly people forget to celebrate the joy of a child entering this world, even if he only stayed a short while.    Sarah's simple word warmed my heart and filled me with such pride and joy for my sweet Jonah.  We should celebrate his entrance into this world, his sweet existence.  This simple word was so unexpected, yet so welcomed. 

I can relate to Sarah's joy of having her daughter in her life - even if she couldn't stay.  I ache for Jonah every day, but I do not regret his short life.  The two days with Jonah were our most precious two days, and the 25 weeks leading up to that were shear joy for us.  Jonah has shaped us into who we are - proud parents of such a sweet, eternal soul.  Jonah led me down the path to donate his milk - to literally save babies' lives.  He has touched so many and our story continues to inspire people around the world.  His impact on the lives of others is greater than we can even imagine, and his impact on us will be forever etched in our hearts.  I am so grateful for Jonah Henry.  So proud to be his mom, and so thankful for the acknowledgement of his existence, of his presence in this world.

Sarah, you touched my heart today in a way no one has.  Your words of congratulations filled my heart with such pride for bringing my baby boy into this world.  From one grieving mom to another - I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  You entered my life today right when I needed you.

And just like that another blog post is created....Sometimes you just have to let the inspiration come to you when the moment is right.  I knew that moment would come along and help me fill my screen with words.  I just didn't know that one little word congratulations would spark such an emotional response.  

Jonah Henry....Waving at me the first time I saw him

          

It's the most wondeful time of the year?

I have been on sort of an artificial "high"....Buzzing on the excitement of Jonah's Milk, of making the front page of the Pittsburgh Post Gazette,  of being thanked by so many people for our contribution to babies - of making a difference in this world.  This high had me fooled into thinking that life was getting "lighter" - that the days weren't going to weigh me down with bone crushing grief anymore....I was finally feeling almost like myself after such a long time of feeling so isolated and overwhelmed by the loss of Jonah.  But grief has a funny way of blending into my life in such a way that I nearly forget it's there.  And then when I least expect it, it smacks me in the face - like suddenly walking into a sliding glass door that I didn't even know was closed.

Shady Mr. Grief flooded my heart this Thanksgiving.  My first cousins had a beautiful, healthy, perfect baby girl this summer - not long after Jonah was born.  My first cousin's wife, Crissy, and I were pregnant at the same time - we commiserated on the phone about the woes of early pregnancy.  Our two babies - a boy and a girl were going to grow up together.  Before we knew what we were having, we coincidentally picked the same name for our baby.  (although neither of us ended up using it)  This was so exciting!  Sadly, their baby girl will never get to meet our baby boy.  I knew they would be at our family Thanksgiving celebration, and despite the loss of Jonah, I was greatly looking forward to meeting beautiful baby Briella.  I was sure I'd be able to put my grief on a shelf and be happy for my dear cousins. (And I am so, so happy for them!)  But let me tell you - holding this gorgeous, healthy, amazing six month old baby made my heart ache in a way that it hadn't in a while.  She cooed at me and smiled and I wished with my heart of hearts that it was six month old Jonah cooing and smiling at me.  I'm sure he would have had the cutest smile.  I cuddled her and sang to her the song I sang to Jonah when I held him, and then I handed her off to another relative and disappeared into my childhood bedroom to cry.  My heart felt like it was breaking into tiny bits.  This is an all too familiar feeling, but it had at least left me for a short time.  When you're happy you forget how much grief hurts.

What healed my heart a bit was to see Briella's mama look through the scrapbook I made of Jonah.  She quietly looked at every page and I watched her from a distance - giving her the space she needed to absorb our tragedy in the light of the joy of her own newborn.  After Jonah's birth and passing I poured myself into scrapbooking every aspect and detail surrounding my pregnancy, his birth, his life, and his death.  It holds emotions of intense love and sadness, and I consider it one of my most valuable possessions.  I love sharing it with others - to share our journey, to share our Jonah.  Yes, it is sad, but it is also beautiful - it is our baby.  Every parent relishes sharing photos of their greatest accomplishments - their children.  All of my friends with kids are constantly posting pics of their kiddos on Facebook - showcasing life changing milestones and even mundane everyday moments.  I am no different - I want to share Jonah with the world, even if he was only here for a short time.  The fact that my cousin took the time to look at each page of Jonah's album made me feel like a proud mama.  But not everyone wants to see pictures of my baby.  For some people it is just "too sad."  At Thanksgiving my own grandma declined my offer to look at Jonah's album, saying "it's just too hard."  For those of you with kids (or even without) - can you imagine offering a loved one to see a picture of your child and them not wanting to see him/her?  Think about how hurt you would feel.  When my own grandma wouldn't even look at Jonah's pictures it just about broke my heart.  This was her great grandchild - a precious, beautiful, perfect baby boy.  Yes he was tiny; yes he was sick.  But he was my baby. I gave birth to him.  And he was alive.  I heard his sweet cry.  I watched him move his arms and legs about.  I loved him with all the love my heart could give and even more.  I cannot help it he lost the battle for his life.  That doesn't make me love him any less.  That doesn't make him not exist.  And the fact that my grandma wouldn't even look at him - Words cannot describe my pain.  Even my dear cousin, who had just had her own baby could look at Jonah with bittersweet joy.  Thank you Crissy for letting Jonah into your heart - It really means so much to me.  As for my grandma, maybe she'll be ready to look at him some day.

As you can see, as I welcomed in the Thanksgiving celebration, I also welcomed grief back in. I always figured the holidays might be tough, but I didn't imagine it would be this hard.  The days following Thanksgiving left my heart aching.  I forgot how bad grief can feel.  To top it off, my grandfather's first words to me at Thanksgiving were, "So, are you pregnant yet?"  Seriously.  Not, "How are you doing?  How are you feeling?"  I guess he hasn't read my blog.  :)  Regarding this question, we met with the high risk OB several weeks back.  He agreed with my fertility specialist that waiting a year wasn't a bad idea, but that we could do a few things in the mean time to calculate our fertility.  So, for the past few weeks I've been taking ovulation tests.  I said to the doc - of course I'm ovulating - I've had a period every month since I stopped pumping.  He explained that with my history of PCOS, I could be having "an-ovulatory" cycles, where I don't ovulate at all.  How is this even possible??  Apparently it is. :( Also, he wanted to see results of genetic testing that Deva and I both had done on ourselves (even though the genetic testing on Jonah was negative).  Good news - both of our tests came back free and clear of genetic defects.  What a relief.  So, that leaves us testing ovulation for a few more weeks and then we'll go back to the high risk OB to make further plans.  If I'm ovulating normally we will be given the green light for trying it the "old fashion way." If I'm not, then we'll be headed back to Dr. Rowan, the fertility specialist to start down that path again.  Let's all hope and pray that the ol' ovaries are doing what they should be and that our next baby will come to be without the intervention of fertility drugs and treatments!

As I wait for the magic green light to start the process of getting pregnant again, I continue to deal with the emotional roller coaster of the holiday season.  On Saturday I went to a candle light Christmas service at the cemetery where Jonah is buried and just about had a pubic breakdown when I put an ornament on their tree with Jonah's name on it.  Fortunately, Hanukkah is half way through and I'm not feeling quite as bad as I was then or on Thanksgiving.  I guess it's to be expected that the holidays would be a tough time....I just thought my recent "high" would carry me through the "most wonderful time of the year."

***Post Script: 12/16/12 
Last night my mom read this post and provided me with some insight as to why my grandma might have not wanted to see pictures of Jonah.  When she was young her only brother drowned in the ocean while trying to save someone.  It was a horrific experience and it changed her life and her family's lives forever. Maybe she sheltered herself from sharing our grief because the death of baby Jonah brought back memories of losing her brother.  I'm sure after absorbing such sadness in her life, she might not have been able to absorb another family tragedy.  I cannot imagine the pain of losing a brother.  But I do know the pain of losing a son, and it's a pain like no other.  I apologize if I seemed insensitive towards my own grandma.  The grief of losing my child can sometimes make me lose sight of the suffering others may be experiencing.  My grief is no greater or lesser than any other person's grief, and I should not judge someone's reason for sheltering themselves from the sadness associated with our baby's death.    

My mom and I with baby Briella - Thanksgiving 2012