New Year's Eve

Here's James in one of my favorite cell phone pics of him, a candid James in the bath shot, from near New Years last year (how I wish the photos on my phone were time-stamped).



I never liked New Year's Eve. The fireworks, the lack of purpose, the hollow resolutions always fell flat to me. Always advertised as the biggest party of the year, I long felt I'd been sold a bill of false goods. I spent too many New Year's Eves at home and sick, recovering from one operation or another, nursing jello and resentment for my able-bodied peers. When I grew older, I became more annoyed because now it seemed I'd missed out on the foundational precepts of the holiday. The ball, the kissing at midnight, the countdowns. These all rang hollow to me, celebrations without context.

What after all, is there to celebrate? The year changes, there's nothing novel to it at all, it's not even exact- otherwise we wouldn't need leap years. One more trip around the sun, one of several billion before and several billion to come. Yet lately days have taken on arbitrary meaning to me, the 16ths and the 29ths of the month suffering under the weight of all that has come before. Time passes faster now, sometimes I feel as though I went to sleep one day and woke up six months later. The time we had with James feels so full, and all that came after so brief in comparison, abbreviated by what its relative lack of importance.

Looking back on some of the entries from our time in the hospital and then at home before we lost James, it really wasn't that long at all. Less than four weeks passed between the time when we found out James was sick and when we held his funeral, but that time was filled with so much. So many doctors, plans, and news. So much research into new types of cancer, evolving diagnoses and treatment protocols. Spurts of adrenaline- we have to do this now- interspersed with immense grief. And then, after all of that compressed into one little ball, nothing. It seems like a flash between then and now. Time itself seems split into two segments, there is Before and there is After, with the timeline delineated by a quick stab of trauma.

Perhaps that's why I'm excited to leave this year behind. I'm eager to see 12 on the end of the date instead of 11, because there are so many horrible dates that end in 11 and none in 12, so many days I'd like to leave behind, though I know I never will. Last year we took James to a New Year's Eve party and left early, as James himself quickly decided that he would have little patience for for fireworks and champagne. And Master James had complete decision making authority over all matters relating to the schedule. We made it home shortly before the New Year and it passed with barely a notice, fireworks cracking in the distance, the dogs alarmed. James slept through it all, and so we slipped into 2011 with no suspicions. This year, I intend to welcome 2012 gladly, eager for a better year. Suffice to say, if the Mayans were right about the apocalypse I am going to be very annoyed. I don't have the patience for any more life-altering disasters this year. So I'm eager to say good bye to 2011 and 2012. I just wish that we had James to share it with.

Happy New Year to you all. Thank you for all of your support and your prayers this year, we needed every one of them.

Should have

So I know it's been a while since I've posted on here.  It just didn't feel....right.

I was flipping through channels on tv the other day, and caught part of an interview that Jennifer Lopez was giving.  She was speaking about a health scare that her daughter, Emme, had a few years ago.  Apparently one morning Emme woke up with a bump on her head.  J Lo started panicking and said, "If she's not going to be ok, I'm not going to be ok."

Well James is not ok.  And therefore, I'm not ok.  Nothing is ever ok. 

Everything I say or do seems like a substitute for what I "Should be" doing.  Like James "should be" 14 months old now.  I "should be" wrapping Christmas presents and decorating for my baby's first Christmas that he will actually participate in.  I "should be" baby proofing and taking trips to the park.  I "should be" dressing James in the Christmas outfit I bought him last spring on clearance that is now just hanging in his closet with the rest of the fall and winter clothes I had stocked up on. 

I'm not sure when the "should be's" stop.  Do they ever?  Is there ever a time where this alternate universe becomes reality?  Or will life always be measured by what should have, could have been?

I can keep it together most of the time.  I have the whole "pretending to be fine" thing down pretty well I think.  I can smile and laugh.  I can tickle other people's children and kiss their sweet cheeks.  I can push away the thoughts and memories that come bubbling up so that I don't become a crying mess in front of anyone. 

I don't let myself go through the pictures and videos from these dates last year.  I can't go there.  When I start to do that, I get really angry.  I get mad that last year I tried to be the perfect wife, mother, daughter in law, trying to appease everyone.  In the end, I ended up exhausted and and didn't even get to hold my child during Christmas eve service or while opening presents.  And nothing was ever good enough anyway.

The best thing I can saw that has happened the last month or so is that it's over. I survived.  I don't mean to be really depressing, and to be honest, this is a notch above the depressing that is usually lingering in my mind. 

A few months ago I was watching the Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood.  There's a part in the movie where Sidda's (Sandra Bullock)  fiancee is talking to Vivi.  He says to her that Sidda is always "Waiting for the bottom to drop out".  And Vivi replies to him "You know why she thinks that, don't ya, honey? Because it did. It always did." 


And I guess that's how I feel most days.  The bottom has dropped out.  For some reason, in my life, it always does.  Most of you probably have a friend that just can't catch a break.  Well, I'm that friend.  Right now I apparently have a severe cornea infection that is finally clearing up.  I'm closing 2011 with a bang.  I mean, who gets a cornea infection?  At this point I'm afraid to ask what's next.  


And it's not just the eye infection- it's just been a really bad year. James's death was not the beginning or the end of it.  


I'm trying to be hopeful that 2012 will be better.   I'm not sure what better means, but I'm hoping that at the very least it's not worse.  


Thank you all for your emails and cards, and sweet packages.  I am horrible and haven't responded to a single thing lately.  I just haven't functioned well for a little bit.  I hope anyone who sent me anything understands....In my old life I would have been much more on top of things. 

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas. Though this Christmas is not what we hoped for, I am glad we had one Christmas with James. Here's a picture of him from near Christmas (a few days after) last year, playing in Mommy's lap. Every day was a James holiday, but I think he was really cute, even by James standards, in Christmas gear.

I hope today is filled with memories and laughter for all of you, that you and your families truly celebrate the season. Merry Christmas.

Thankful

Here is a picture of James from last Thanksgiving. He was thankful for his Daddy. I think Kara dressed him in that because she knew if it said Daddy I'd be more inclined to allow my son to wear a shirt prominently featuring a Turkey. She was right, though if push came to shove I think we both knew he'd be wearing whatever she put on him, no matter how bedazzled. He was very cute, though I'm sure he had no idea what all the fuss was about.

I am thankful for the eight months and seventeen days I got to spend with him. I am thankful for his hair, his smile, and his laughter. I am thankful for the way he used to tug at the buttons of my shirt, perplexed that they were too flat to my chest to pop into his mouth. I am thankful for the soft way his chin rested on my shoulder during naps, and the rhythmic feel of his chest rising and falling with each breath against mine.

I am thankful for all of those small things, snatched from time, preserved for eternity. James and I reading from my Kindle together at two weeks old. He wouldn't stop crying no matter how much I walked him, rocked him, or cuddled him. I tried reading to him from one of his books- he had a library- but I needed one hand to hold him and couldn't quite master the art of holding both the book and James in a way that allowed me to turn the pages. So I picked up my Kindle and read Michael Lewis' "The Big Short" with him, as I only need one hand to turn the pages of the Kindle. He fell asleep during a discussion of bond tranches. If only I'd known finance was the answer to begin with. A little over six months old at the Arboretum. Kara was sick so we took a Daddy and James solo trip. We laid out on a blanket together. I attempted to take pictures but failed, James looking on in bemusement as if to remind me I should know better than to try a photoshoot on my own. We moved on to food. James wasn't interested in his food, but he liked the taste of the lemonade I bought out of the vending machine, which I know perfectly well I shouldn't have let him try. I was never a great disciplinarian. If I had it to do over again I'd have bought every drink there and let him have a sip.

I am thankful for all of these things and more. We've received a lot of support since James got sick. I've been overwhelmed at the generosity and kindness of strangers, from the giraffe contest to the notes that continue to trickle in months later. I went to the Starbucks on Northwest Highway a few weeks ago. Kara and I went through the drive thru the day after James died. In the cheerful way of baristas everywhere, the clerk asked us how we were. I think I stuttered to "not great" while desperately waiting for her to hand us the cup. She cheerfully asked why and I told her our son just died. I still remember how shocked she looked, and the awkward precision with which she rushed our cups out afterwards. When I went this time, a different barista took my order, but as I went to grab the cups, there she was, rushing up behind the barista actually handling my order. She said she'd been thinking my wife and I, and she hoped we were doing better. There've been a lot of things like that I'm grateful for, people have no cause to know us or think of us who have gone out of their way to help.

I wish I could say all of that made today easy. It did not. The holidays remain difficult, littered as they are with opportunities for you to imagine what should have been, no matter what is. I miss him everyday, some days more than most. Still, I'm more thankful than not. I was blessed to be James' father. I couldn't ask for anything more.

Thank all of you for all of your support this year. Your prayers, your thoughts, and your words. Enjoy the holiday and your families, and thank you for thinking of ours.

Happy Holiday pics and thank you all!

I really hope everyone has a wonderful holiday, and gets to spend it with loved ones. I'm honored to be a part of such an amazing and supportive community. As some of you know, this has been a very hard couple of months for me with my dog passing, and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your kind words and sentiments. They are immensely helpful during this most devastating time.



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