31 weeks, 2 days

The fear is palpable now, as I head into what feels like the danger zone.

Ezra died when I was 33 weeks, 5 days pregnant. The first indication we had that anything was wrong was a slightly elevated protein test at my 32 week OB appointment. This was followed by another test, which several days later resulted in my being directed to the hospital for more tests. Which all came back within the high range of normal. And so we were sent home. And Ezra likely died on the way home.

I don't question the doctors' decision to send me home. Nothing about the test results suggested I needed to stay in the hospital. Nothing suggested that Ezra wasn't safe. The light was yellow...proceed with caution. I was scheduled for an appointment to return 5 days later so they could keep an eye on things. Who knew that would end up being a post-partum appointment.

I know all too well how quickly all can go drastically wrong. So the fact that everything is healthy and good as I type, only gets me so far. What might tomorrow bring? What might the story be by next week?

Yet the other thing that feels palpable is meeting Sunflower in person. I feel like he's so close I can taste it. Less than 6-9 weeks to go. Unbelievable. Despite swearing that I would do nothing to prepare for Sunflower, I found myself spending a day off last week doing load after load of baby wash, and folding tiny onesies and footsie pajamas. The nursery is organized, all our baby things sorted. I've chosen a pediatrician, picked a mohel. What can I say? The nesting instinct has taken over.

Half the time I find myself wishing that I could just be put in a coma and woken when its all over - when there's a healthy happy son in my arms. But since that's unlikely to happen, I guess I'll be getting through this the same way I've made it this far - one day at a time.

Kai

One year ago today, Election Day, was a day of tears for me. So many of our hopes and dreams for our little Ezra Malik intertwined into the election of our nation's first black president. It took me hours to pull myself out of bed to go and vote, something that I had envisioned for months doing with a baby Ezra strapped in a sling to my body. When Obama's win was announced that night, my own tears became an unstoppable flood.

But that same day brought an unstoppable flood for another family just 100 miles away in New York City, as Danielle and Alan unexpectedly welcomed their son Kai to the world. Kai, meaning water, or 'of the sea', arrived way too soon, and thus another set of babylost parents joined our ranks. Kai's Japanese name is nod to the mizuko jizo, which in Japanese culture guards the spirits of miscarried and stillborn babies as they travel into the next life, because they are believed not to have built up enough karma to make the passage safely. Kai only ever knew the water of his mama's belly as his home.

Danielle and I met here in babylost blogland in the weeks that followed, but when we met in person a few months later, it was as if we had known each other forever. I treasure my friendship with Danielle deeply and adore her sweet husband Alan. I hate that the devastating loss of our firstborn sons is what ties us together, and yet I can't imagine traveling this journey without Kai's beautiful parents.

At Ezra's unveiling, I asked Danielle to read a beautiful poem by Zelda titled 'Everyone has a Name'. The last lines seem written for Kai:

Each of us have a name
Given by the Sea
and given by
Our death.

Today as always I am remembering sweet baby Kai, and holding his parents Danielle and Alan close in love.

Huge ~ 28 weeks, 3 days

Everything feels huge right now. My body feels huge. I am slowing down. I get exhausted more easily. I lose my balance. Always a klutz, I've become even klutzier.

But more importantly, the task at hand feels huge...bringing Sunflower safely into the world. Looking out at the mere weeks left of this pregnancy, I sometimes feel like Sisyphus pushing his boulder up the mountain...will I really be able to make it to a safe and healthy arrival for Sunflower?

Over the last couple months, I've done a pretty good job at staying as present as possible in the ever-increasing joy and excitement, in staying grounded in the firm belief that I will eventually hold Sunflower alive and well in my arms.

And yet recently, there are also firm reminders of how much is outside my control. My klutziness feels like one of those reminders - I don't feel in control of my own body and that adds to feeling overwhelmed. Sunflower is very active, and while I am positively thrilled for the constant reminders of his presence, watching my stomach twist and turn as he somersaults, kicks and stretches, also reminds me that he's his own little person, one over whom I have limited control. So much about being pregnant is a leap of faith, and sometimes my faith falters.

These final 9-12 weeks just feel big. It's the "high risk" zone for me, given my history with Ezra. Starting next week I will be going to the doctor weekly, and eventually twice weekly as of 32 weeks. The monitoring helps provide reassurance, but is also a reminder of how much can go wrong at this stage.

I'm not really complaining. I'm just feeling extremely hormonal, emotional and overwhelmed. Thankfully, as of now, everything remains healthy and good with Sunflower. Here's a pic of my ever-burgeoning belly:

27 weeks, 4 days

Sunflower had another photo shoot today, otherwise known as another ultrasound. All continues to be healthy and good. He's 2 lbs 9 oz which is right on target for his gestational age. He was in the breach position today, but its early yet to worry about that since he still has plenty of room to squirm around. Phew. Guess Ezra and Sunflower's mommy can sleep well tonight. Unfortunately we had a very brusque tech today who gave us crummy photos where you can barely see anything...of course Sunflower didn't make it easy by moving around the whole time!

Ezra's Space

When I started this blog nearly a year ago, it was to create a space for all things Ezra...a space where I could voice my love for Ezra, my deep despair that he was gone, and all the other tumultuous emotions of this journey of grief. This blog is Ezra's space, a place where I can broadcast all that comes from that space in my heart which he will always inhabit.

Of course over the last 6 months, a new being, Ezra's baby brother, has begun to inhabit Ezra's space. Sunflower is by no means a replacement for Ezra. And yet he does inhabit a space that was originally intended for Ezra. Ezra was my firstborn, and so the first to ever live in my womb. Ezra taught my body how to carry a baby, and let Sunflower know when the time was right to join us.

So too, Sunflower inhabits a space in my heart that Ezra cultivated. Long before ever conceiving Sunflower, I worried that I would never be able to allow myself to love his younger sibling as much as I love Ezra. I worried that I wouldn't connect with this baby, somehow protecting myself from getting hurt as deeply should he not make it either. A wise friend pointed out that Ezra's little brother or sister did not yet know of Ezra, and that a new baby would need as much love and hope as I put into growing Ezra. Of course she was right. Almost despite myself, I have been deeply in love with Sunflower since the day I learned of his existence. And that love grows and grows with each additional day of kicks, squirms and an ever-swelling belly.

Ezra taught me how to love. The love I feel for both my sons is deeper than anything I have ever known. The love I now share with Ezra and Sunflower's daddy is deeper than anything we could have imagined prior to losing Ezra. This deep love is part of Ezra's legacy.

I sometimes step back in wonder as we make plans for Sunflower, talking about the things we'll do with him and the places we'll go. We made these kinds of plans for Ezra too, and of course none of them were ever realized. I am so filled with hope for Sunflower's future, even as I am filled with regret daily for all that Ezra will never do. Ezra taught us to dream these kinds of dreams.

And so even though many of my recent posts are about Sunflower, this remains Ezra's space. It's a space about love, hope, despair, regret and everything else in between.

Babylost Mama Retreat

I'm going on a retreat with other awesome babylost mamas I've met here in blogworld in Ocean City, NJ Nov. 20-22. Interested in joining us? Check out the details on Angie's blog.

A Conversation with my Son

I sit in Yom Kippur services, and the Rabbi shares these words of Martin Luther King Jr., "He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love."

Unlike last year at this time, when the pain of Ezra's death was too raw and new, I approached the Days of Awe this year with a certain peace, a renewed sense of possibility. Yet leading up to Yom Kippur, I have struggled with the notion of asking forgiveness. I am able to accept that I am imperfect, yet not quite able to muster the humility necessary to ask forgiveness of others. Shouldn't the Universe be asking forgiveness of me? Afterall, it was my son she wrenched away.

::

Sitting in the Yizkor (memorial) service in the waning hours of the day, we are asked to close our eyes and envision our loved one sitting with us. What does he say to us? What do we say to him?

I summon the vision of my perfect son, my Ezra Malik, his tiny hands and feet, his serene yet wry smile, his slight weight in my arms the only occasion I held him, the peaceful look on his face as we spent time with him before returning him to the earth. And these words flash through my mind:

I'm sorry.

And the tears begin to fall.

I'm sorry, my sweet son, that I did not realize what was happening as you slipped away.
I'm sorry that my womb, the one place that should have been safe, became your deathbed.
I'm sorry that your birthday, so very anticipated, was somber, and so very very silent.

But mostly, my sweet Ezra, I am sorry for the walks we never took, and the songs we never sang;
For the first steps you never stepped, and the first teeth you never grew;
For the subjects you never studied, and the books you never read;
For the passions that never stirred your heart, and the adventures you never had;
For the loves you never loved, and even the hurt you never felt.
For all this and so much more,
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.

But Mama, Ezra replies, It's ok. All I ever knew was love.

Yes my sweet Ezra, and it will never feel like enough.