Big Brother

We took Micah to see his big brother on Saturday. Of course he fell asleep on the car ride there and we let him stay sleeping in the car.

Both D and I felt it was time...we needed to go see Ezra. We haven't been back since the unveiling of his gravestone on his 1st birthday. Although neither of us feel Ezra most present at the cemetery, we've both wanted to go...but between a problem pregnancy and the ice and snow, we just haven't made it. Now that we've gained our footing as parents to a living child, we knew it was time.

We were both so surprised to see how many of the stones and shells that many of you sent or brought for the unveiling were still present on the stone. We brought 3 stones (1 for each of us) that we had collected in our journeys and left them for our boy. I was struck by the calm that came over me as we arrived. On past visits to the cemetery, I've revisited the pure shock of having buried a child each time we arrived. This time felt different. It's not that I accept that Ezra is dead in the sense of having reconciled with the Universe. But the fact that he's gone has integrated into my being, it has become part of my identity. I felt peace in seeing Ezra's name on that stone, since it is one of the few places his name will always be remembered. I guess this is what they call in thera-speak, "the new normal".

Afterwards over lunch at a nearby diner, D and I just stared at each other in wonder - how did we get here? 10 years ago, we knew each other but neither of us had noticed a romantic spark. Now. here we sit, married and parents to one little boy who lives only in our hearts, and one who lives in our hearts and our arms. I may have found acceptance, but I'll never understand.

Spring has Sprung...

Last year, around the same time I was planting my Sunflowers, I planted something else...a hydrangea bush for Ezra. Our garden is small, and I can't say I'm the most of skilled of gardeners, but I truly delight in planting things and watching them grow. Gardening is one of the things I dreamed about doing with Ezra when he was old enough to help, just as I had 'helped' my Dad in his gardens as a kid. Now gardening is just one of the many things in life he never got to do.

During my pregnancy with Micah, I didn't allow myself to dream of the things I'd do with him, not much anyway. I didn't fully believe he'd make it here alive, not until I heard his cry. But those dreams for what I would have done with Ezra are of course dreams for Micah too.

Now that the weather is getting warmer, Micah and I have been spending as much time as possible outside. Today I took him out back to see how his brother's bush has sprouted. I can't wait until he can help me take care of it too.

A Homecoming...of sorts

Yesterday was my 6 week postpartum appointment. Never mind that Micah is now 8 1/2 weeks old -- the blizzards of 2010 have postponed my last two scheduled appointments. In fact a blizzard was predicted yesterday too - luckily all we got was flurries.


Given that I practically lived at my OB's office the last five weeks of my pregnancy, what with the thrice-weekly NSTs and doctors' appointments, its not surprising people were excited to see Micah. Everyone, from the receptionist, to the nurses and medical assistants, and of course the wonderful Dr. J, oohed and ahhed as Micah slept in his stroller, utterly oblivious to all the attention. It felt good to have the miracle that is his healthy live existence acknowledged, by people who know first hand just how tenuous the journey was that hearkened his arrival.


Such a contrast to my 6 week postpartum appointment after giving birth to Ezra. Purposely arriving first thing in the morning so as to avoid sitting in a room full of pregnant women, I was greeted by a receptionist:
So you're here to followup on your procedure?
Um no...this is my 6 week appointment. I gave birth to a son. He died.
I call that a procedure.


Needless to say, said receptionist no longer works at that office. Stunned, I returned to my seat next to David. Another woman arrived for her appointment, a three year old son in tow. He was very active, having brought two small toy trucks with him, which he delighted in 'driving' all over the floor and chairs. I remember sitting watching him, alternatively smiling at his adorable antics, and tears welling up in my eyes at the thoughts that Ezra would never reach this age, never play with trucks, never make someone else smile at his pure adorable being. It never occurred to me to ask to be taken back to a room on my own...I just smiled and cried in silence until my name was called.

***


There was a certain sense of...dare I say it...closure, in seeing Dr. J with my nearly 2 month old son. Not closure in the sense of my grief journey of course...that I know will last a lifetime. But closure in the sense that I somehow have brought a living breathing child into this world, as Dr. J promised me I would one day quite some time ago.


Dr. J is very special to my husband and I. Dr. J was not my OB during my pregnancy with Ezra. I went to the same practice, but saw a different doctor, one who was perfectly competent, but not someone with whom I developed any sort of connection. Toward the end of pregnancy, the practice likes you to rotate through other doctors, so you can meet everyone in advance of your delivery. So my 32 week appointment when I was pregnant with Ezra was with Dr. J. The appointment where my protein levels were slightly elevated....which led to Dr. J ordering me to do a 24 hour catch...which led to Dr. J sending me to the hospital for monitoring...monitoring which revealed a perfectly healthy baby despite slightly elevated blood pressure and protein. Which led Dr. J to make the decision to send me home. And most likely Ezra died on the way home.


One might think I'd hate Dr. J.


But I don't. Medically he made the right decision to send me home -- there was just nothing to indicate that Ezra was in distress or was about to be in distress. And even if I had been in the hospital when the abruption happened, it was so acute and complete, that it's unlikely as could be that Ezra would have survived. Modern medicine has its limits - we learned that the hard way.


But here's the thing about Dr. J. After we had returned to the hospital, after we were informed our baby passed away, after the hysterical screaming and tears, after the epidural, and after the process of induction had begun...Dr. J came back to the hospital. He wasn't on call anymore, he hadn't been my treating OB, he could have been home with his own precious children. And instead, he came back. To sit with us, to grieve with us, to make sure that we knew that he was devastated too.


Most doctors would have run away, fearful of unintentionally acknowledging any regret or fault, in light of possible malpractice litigation. He didn't have to come back. But he did.


And ever since then, David and I knew he was our doctor. That if we ever journeyed this path of bringing a child into the world again, it would be Dr. J that would provide the care. That he would fight to ensure a healthy arrival.


And fight he did.

Still Here

I haven't had much to say in this space since our Sunflower, Micah, arrived. For the last five and a half weeks, my grief has pretty much been put on the shelf. This time has been about snuggles and breastfeeding, sleep and lack thereof. Being a mama, both to Ezra and to Micah, is most definitely the hardest job I've ever had...and these weeks have been some of the most amazing and challenging I've ever lived. Micah continues to bring us more joy than we knew was possible in our lives after losing Ezra. The grief does still appear from time to time as I know it always will. And so while there may be silence here for a bit, I'm still blog reading and nodding right along with you.

Here's some updated pics.

2 weeks old

Micah is 2 weeks old today. Most moments I still need to pinch myself to believe its real...that we are the parents to a real live healthy baby boy.He's here. He's real. He snuggles, and cries, and pees, and poops...and fills us with so much joy I didn't know was even possible. I no longer can imagine living life without him, although at least once a day a fear creeps in that somehow we could lose him still...joy or not, the catastrophic thinking that I have battled since losing Ezra is not gone entirely.

While pregnant with Sunflower I never could envision this part...even up to the day we went to the hospital to be induced, I didn't fully believe that we'd be leaving with a real live baby. Even while nesting and preparing for his arrival, it didn't truly feel real. Afterall, I've never had this happy ending before.

Sunflower's arrival was challenging to say the least. I spent nearly 30 hours in labor. I had an epidural that didn't fully work, and after feeling intense pitocin-induced contractions through it, had to be repeated. But the scary part was that twice, Sunflower's heart began to deccelerate. The first time they were able to stabilize things. The second time is what led to the decision to do a c-section...with labor not progressing the way it needed to, and a waning heart rate, getting Sunflower out safely seemed like the priority. I wish I hadn't had to have a c-section--the recovery has been terribly difficult--but I don't regret the decision at all. The alternative is way too terrifying.

These last two weeks have been so intense and so very wonderful. It hasn't all been easy...because our Sunflower was a little early, we had some feeding difficulties that made breastfeeding hard to establish. But Micah and I have worked hard at it, and while we are still a work in progress, I no longer need to pump to supplement feeds and Micah is growing and gaining from nursing full feeds. As of yesterday, he is now 6lbs 15oz. Breastfeeding is definitely a learned skill, and perhaps the hardest skill I've ever learned. But Micah is absolutely worth it.

I've heard other babylost mamas say that they never truly recognized how much they lost until their rainbow babies arrived. I guess that's true - there's no way I could have imagined the depths of joy that Micah has brought into our lives. But this time has not been about Ezra...its absolutely been about Micah. Its not that I miss my Ezra any less - losing him still makes me feel like the unluckiest woman in the world. But having my Sunflower, my baby Micah here, makes me feel like the luckiest woman alive. I am so amazingly grateful he's here

12 days

Micah is 12 days old today. The days since his birth have been such a whirlwind of joy and snuggles, breastfeeding woes and sleep deprivation that I'm not yet able to write a coherent post. On Wednesday (his 8th day of life) we celebrated Micah's bris or Jewish circumcision ceremony. The following is the explanation we wrote and read about Micah Amir's name:

Micah Amir is named for his older brother Ezra Malik, born sleeping August 30, 2008, and his paternal grandfather Albert, who passed away June 28, 2009. Micah will grow up knowing of his mighty older brother who got away -- Ezra paved the way for Micah in our hearts and in his mama's womb. Micah will also learn of his grandfather, who, although he did not live to see Micah's birth, took such joy in knowing we had a Sunflower on the way.

Micah, in Hebrew, means 'who resembles G-d?' or 'resembling G-d'. We believe Micah chose this name for himself to remind us that although he may physically resemble his older brother, he reflects a power so much larger in the universe, the power of our love, the power which has guided us on our difficult journey as parents. Micah does not replace Ezra - he is his own special and unique self.

Amir, in Hebrew and Arabic, means 'prince'. We believe Micah chose this name for himself to reflect his dual ethnicities and the value his parents place on the influences of many cultures. We love that his middle name has the same meaning in two languages. Bridging two worlds, we expect our Micah Amir to be a leader, a prince.

Here are some additional photos of our little guy:

Pics of Sunflower

We came home from the hospital yesterday -- too tired to post yet, but here's some pics of our Sunflower, Micah Amir