Ralph

I saw Ralph last Saturday at Mike and Marie's holiday party. I haven't seen him in two years, not since the last time Eric and I were able to be at M&Ms holiday party. Ralph is a friend of my husband, they used to work for the same company, and Ralph lives a mere seven minutes from our house (not that we ever see him!)

What distinguishes Ralph to me is that he knew me during my happiest time and through my saddest, a span of only three years. When I met Ralph, we hit it off right away - he was a good buddy of Eric's and through lots of fun times, parties and outings, we had a blast. We're even the same sign, Capricorn, but don't ask me what that might have to do with anything.

After Solomon, I was a different person. And somehow Ralph gave me laughs two and three. It sounds funny to write it like that but that's how it was.

At Atlantis in the Bahamas, I spent a miserable week. This was Eric's company trip and he worked really hard to earn it. I was devastated as I'd planned to be pregnant, nearly 8 months so and here I was, nothing. One night we were at one of the club with Ralph, Mike, Marie and some others. All of a sudden, Ralph starts rapping to a Madonna song, I forget which one. The hilarity of the situation is hard to capture. Ralph was a 40-ish, short, Italian, divorced-with-no-children, guy from Queens. He did not fit any mold of any rapper anywhere on the planet. The joy I felt at laughing in relief could be measured on the Richter scale. That was laugh #2.

Of course I was pregnant for the third time in January 2001, dreading what would happen in the future. Eric convinced me we should go away for a ski weekend, in which I wouldn't ski, go snow-mobiling, drink or sit in the hot tub. So I read a book, White Oleander by Janet Fitch, and an issue of "O" - the magazine Oprah Winfrey puts out. Ralph, Mike and Marie and assorted brothers, brothers-in-laws and friends of Mike and Ralph's were also at the cabin. I forgot which meal it was, we were all gathered around. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. All of a sudden, Ralph starts to sink. Now mind you he is already sitting in a chair at the dinner table and seems to be moving south involuntarily. Turns out, the chair rail started to deteriorate right before everyones eyes. We were all a ball of hysterics, even me. When Ralph finally emerged from the floor, you could tell he thought this was just the funniest thing.

We spoke about Ralph's chair incident on Saturday, and I've been meaning to post since then. When I think back to the dark time, it's hard to remember that there were glimpses of light. And Ralph is someone whom I lease expected to be the light-giver.

October 10 Reunion Group

I attended a Reunion Group this week and saw Patty, Janine T, Bill and Diana and Rosemary and her husband. We were the reunion-ers. In the loss group were several couples, one couple in particular who were there for a repeat. Their second pregnancy ended in loss recently. I remmebered them immediately from the first time I spoke at their group. Talk about UNFAIRNESS.

I sat and listened to the loss group members relay their experiences, and went through my part with my usual shaking and nerous voice. It is still painful to talk about, even at 7+ years. I wonder what the next 7 will be like.

The Walk to Remember

October 6th was The Walk to Remember. As strange as this may sound, it was truly wonderful to be there and not be a speaker. It's not that I don't want to talk, anyone who knows me knows I have a hard time shutting up. It was more of a relief to have the role of just a mourner among all the others. And there were others....so may newbies. That's what incites my anger now, that more and more women and men and families are experience pregnancy loss.

I was angry with myself for such a long time for taking Solomon from me and did let go of the anger eventually. It took years but I eventually forgave myself too. But the naive part of me still wants no more pregnancies to have unhappy outcomes. I know my thoughts are unreasonable, I just can't help them.

Solomon's Paper

I received in the mail Solomon scrapbook paper - I went on the Scrap It Simple website and ordered white cardstock, blue ink, scatter design, of his name. It will be for the memorial book Winthrop University Hospital is compiling. I originally wanted to do Solomon's page identical to his quilt square. But too many computer crashes and too many lost files has lost the document into cyberspace. So I am using the name paper and created a solid blue heart with white lettering indicating his date, March 8, 2000.

Alison is 6 today!

Alison is 6 today. It hardly seems like she should be this up in years already. I am thankful for every second I have spent with her. She is my joy!

This Years' Walk

I've already received email and snail mail announcements for this years' Walk to Remember sponsored by Winthrop University Hospital. I spoke with Patti, and we really both have mixed feelings about participating.

Yes, the boulder of grief has been chipped away from my heart and I don't actively mourn Solomon anymore. But on the other hand, I know what comfort I got in the early months from those who had also "been there" and I always feel the need to "give back." At least I don't have to decide today.

August 1

Always a tough day for me. It is Rebecca's birthday. At the time I was supposed to celebrating the joy of having my first child while my best friend enjoyed the birth of hers.

Solomon and Rebecca were due within days of each other. I was so raw when Jon called to say she had been born and that mother and baby were doing well. Not the mother and baby I knew, not me, not Solomon. I couldn't get out of bed and hoped to be forgiven for being such a rotten friend.

The day my husband forbids me to mention

Today is the day my husband forbids me to mention. Maybe not forbids, but he has let me know in no uncertain terms, not to bring it up.

Today is the day that my first child was supposed to be born. Based on my recording keeping and the calculated dates of ovulation, conception and sonogram-dating, every date came to the conclusion July 28th was the BIG DAY. Eric feels there's no point recalling this day, since we don't recall the due date's of Alison and Adam. I of course argue his point. We do mention Alison's due date because it was my mother's birthday and there's not much to say about Adam's since it was pretty much on his birthday. His date's were always off but I firmly believe he was due March 29 but I couldn't have a scheduled C on Saturday so Friday March 28th it was.

When July 28, 2000 came, I was in a hotel in Washington DC, fantasizing Room Service would deliver a baby to me, sobbing in Eric's arms, and listening to the very last broadcast of Regis and KathyLee - a program I had never watched. It was a horrible day for me and thinking back I can remember the rawness I felt, as if someone stripped by skin and I was just a bunch of bones with a broken heart.

Today in 2007, I'm not much happier. Oh there have been joyous times, and there will continue to be. But I am still deeply saddened by my grandmother's death on July 4th and I'm feeling a lot of that rawness today. At least I have my children, who've been extremely tolerant of their moody mommy.

A photo in heaven

It's hard to know what is the "right" thing to do, especially where death is concerned. I arrived at the Funeral home Thursday July 5 with photos of my children and my grandmother. I guess I should say my living chidren. I did not know what to do regarding Solomon.

My grandmother was at my side through my ordeal losing Solomon, and would hold my hand for months to come whenever we were together. She never spoke of him, taking the lead from me.

I called my husband and asked him to bring a photo of Solomon for my grandmother's coffin. I did not have the photo displayed with the other photos of her great-grandchildren - it would have been too much for me to explain to those who came to comfort us. His picture was in an envelope with instructions to place it with my grandmother when the casket was sealed. And that's what happened.

This just SUCKS

About 7:30 this morning my telephone rang. It was my mother. I knew the news could not be good, but I didn't think it would be as bad as it was. My grandmother had died this morning. I dropped the phone and fell silent.

When Eric finished talking to my mom, he held me as I shook and cried. "Why would my mother say such a mean thing?" I asked, not to him directly.

This was one of the days I was always dreading.

Goldie, my grandmother, was one of the lights of my life. To know her was to love her. Always with a smile and a positive attitude, she was very honest and forgiving, two traits I have always tried to have. She always turned away to other people's flaws and saw the best side of them.

She loved unconditionally, no matter who, no matter what.

When I was losing Solomon, one of the things I wanted the most was her. And she obliged by sitting quietly in the corner of my hospital room. She said nothing, she just let me rant.

When I gave birth to Alison, she was there with my mother. Her first great-grandchild had been born, and a great-granddaughter no less. And when Adam was born, she was right there too. Reveling in the love we felt for the new "little man" in our family. We gave her the honor of Sandek at his bris.

Goldie was a golden light who never wanted anything more than to be surrounded by those she loved most in the world. My life is now darker and will remain so, regardless of the joys that lie ahead.

I miss you grandma.

Mother's Day

On my first Mother's Day as a mother, May 2000, I did not have a child. That is, I did not have a living child. Solomon was born and had died a few weeks prior. On this particular day I found myself in the Bahamas, at the luxury resort Atlantis. The scenery was lush and vivid but everything seemed veiled to me. My husband was great, guiding me through the motions of the day, making sure I ate, rested, and took in some of the beach. I felt so out of place. Even though there were no children on our trip, it was a business trip for Eric, I still was disfigured from the pregnancy and birth and felt as if I wanted to die.

Today, 7 years later, is different. The world is awash in color, and I could take in the smell of Alison's hair and notice the red ruddiness of Adam's scraped news.

Happy Mother's Day Solomon.

A Long Island Love Story

A few weeks ago I submitted an email to Long Island Love Stories, a segment of the Channel 12 news here on Long Island. I told how Eric and I reconnected after our divorces, had a wonderful wedding and honeymoon, found ourselves pregnant (ok, only I was the pregnant one) and then suffered a tsunami of our own when we lost Solomon. We were interviewed on Friday March 23, 2007 in our home. This was not the first time I was interviewed about pregnancy loss but it was the first time for me on camera, and it was the first time my husband spoke.

As I've mentioned before, there is something comforting to me to hear my husband speak Solomon's name, and watching the interview it is no different. I felt so estranged from Eric for such a long time, and with the publishing of the book and additional steps I feel as if things are back on the right track for us.

7-Year Itch

Today is 7 years since I lost Solomon. I cannot believe it. I woke up this morning and hugged Adam as tightly as I could. I gave Alison extra kisses goodbye at the bus stop.

I have the 7-year itch. I will always have a dormant longing for Solomon. I long to know so much. Would his eyes have been blue like my daughter's or brown like my son's? Would the weight of his body as he was nursing felt skinny like Adam or bulky like Alison? Would he have walked late, talked early, liked peas or apples. Things I will never know in this lifetime.

Today is the only day each year I allow myself to ask "why?" Why did this happen to me? I don't wallow anymore...the "why" is more of a curiousity in my life, a question that will never be answered. And even if it was, what difference would it make? Solomon is the emptiness in my heart that will always be there.

The Mention of his Name

My husband mentioned Solomon's name last night, quite to my surprise. We were at friend's for dinner with the kids. I don't know what we were talking about. And then he mentioned something about how I would behave at the OB's office after we lost Solomon. It sounded so odd, the name coming out of Eric's mouth. And it was very unusual, at least to me, that he would bring him up at all. No, lightning didn't strike. It was just a moment in time when my husband felt comfortable enough to bring Solomon up.

Ash Wednesday

Today is Ash Wednesday. Not a holiday for me. I meant to post yesterday on Mardi Gras. That's not a holiday for me either.

What I note about both days is that in 2000, Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday were March 7 and 8. I delivered Solomon on March 8.

On Mardi Gras, I started the day fantasizing that the doctors were wrong, my dates were wrong and that all the wrongs would make one big right, and I wouldn't be losing my baby. On Ash Wednesday the biggest wrong, me, occurred.

Whenever I see a person with ashes on their forehead, two things come to mind. First is my friend Terry, who always left work at lunchtime, went to the closest Church and returned to the office ashened. The second is losing Solomon. The nurse attending to me had gone on this errand, and sure enough I delivered my baby without her. In the end, it doesn't really matter, she would not have been able to save my child. When she returned and learned I was done, she apologized and helped to clean me up. Those are my Ash Wednesday memories.

The Photo

A few weeks ago I was sent a photo of my paternal great-grandparents, Gus and Isabel. The photo was taken in Black and White, and the copy I received has that sepia tone to it. In the middle of the couple is the woman who is my great-great grandmother, Carmella. Until I received the photo, Carmella was a mystery woman. I had heard her name through the years from my grandmother and mom. My grandmother met her a few times when she was dating my grandfather, Al, the son of Gus and Isabel.

Carmella is someone I will never know, regardless of how many photos I receive, stories I hear or Internet searches on Ancestry.com I do. She is very similar to me the way Solomon is at this point in time. I won't know him either, at least not in the way I know my children Alison and Adam. It seems so strange that there are all these relatives I've never met, but logical at the same time. And I wonder if Solomon has met them where he is.