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.

Come and gone

Another Walk to Remember has come and gone and this is the first time I have been able to sit and write a word or two. It was a blustery day filled with less people than I expected. In greeting my fellow journeyers and others I learned Anna would not be there. Like an arrow through my heart the pain shot - how could I speak without Anna?
Anna was my lifeline and while in reality I would have had to get through my grief eventually, I know my journey would have been different without her. She provided the unconditional support. She was there morning, noon and night through my grief and subsequent pregnancies. I owe so much to her for returning me to some semblance of a life.
And now she would not be at the event, our Walk to Remember, and I was crushed.

***

On the heels of the Walk was the anniversary of Baby Z. I don't really know when I lost him, but 10/23/00 is the day I mark since it is the day of the D&C to remove what might have been from me. I was so busy I didn't even get to light a candle. But I was busy with the blessings that he paved the way for.

Pet Insurance

Exactly 20 years ago today I became a cat-mom. A black domestic short haired cat with white paws adopted me from the North Shore Animal League. I named her Sushi. It was the first time I had every experienced the proverbial love-at-first-site.

Sushi and I would go on to adopt two other cats: Baby, a gray domestic short hair and DaisyMay, a marmalade beauty -or what my English friends call, a ginger cat.

Today I am cat-less. Baby left this earth exactly 10 days before Alison was born. She was 11 and her death wrought havoc on my world already saturated with the loss of my son Solomon.

Sushi would die 10 days before my 39th birthday. Her death hit me like a ton of bricks. Sushi had been with me since college. She lived through my first marriage and divorce, my pursuing my Masters degree, the building of my career, my remarriage and the loss of Solomon. She and I had a deal: she would live until I turned 40. She tried. As she was dying in my arms she licked my fingers as if to say goodbye. She was 18 years and 4 months old.

On October 12, 2006 my DaisyMay passed. And while there is no "10 day" coincidence in her death, she died 19 days prior to her 16th birthday. My sweetheart of a cat who was finally comfortable with all the love my son Adam could heap on her.

Exactly 24 hours later, upon fetching my mail from its box, I received what I could only a slap in the face: a brochure from the ASPCA asking me to sign up for pet insurance. I sat and stared and thought of the irony of receiving this while in the midst of my grief...and thought of the times I'd received baby advertisements after losing Solomon. The feelings were so much the same: anger, sadness and defeat. I couldn't understand why, and still cannot.

In six years time I have mourned the loss of my son Solomon, another miscarriage and the deaths of my cats. I have also celebrated the birth of my children. I'm hoping the next six years are more even-keeled.

Tonight I lit my candles in honor of Solomon, his brother Baby Z and my cats...all in the name of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness day. My cats made me a mother, my children make me a parent. I love them all.

Kindergarten Here I Come

While Alison had her first day of Kindergarten two days ago, she goes a full day today. At about the four-hour mark, I started to miss her. We've never been apart this long on a typical day.

For her first day we made a Kindergarten Here I Come banner, that she displayed and was photographed with. I matched my excitement level to hers, not wanting mine to diminish hers. But today, it's another story.

I ate lunch with my son, I played with my son, I ran errands with my son. And while everyone who knows me knows how much Adam and I adore each other, I'm used to my little girl's presence. I've checked in her room twice, to make sure she's not taking a nap. I've stood at my door, looking out for the bus...the bus that is scheduled to come in over an hour.

The first two days of school, the half days, pshaw, they were nothing. She arrived home in time for lunch and that was that. Were they to ease Alison into a school routine, or were they to wean me and the other mothers from the daily presence of our children?

Today, the whole day, the day that begins all the other seven-hour days for the next thirteen years. I emailed my husband at work how sad I am, how unexpectedly sad I feel. I didn't "lose" Alison, the way I lost Solomon. I know right where she is. And it is not with me.

I wonder how I would have felt if this were Solomon going to school. Would I have had a closeness with him the way I do with Alison and Adam? It will remain a silent wonder.

The Big 5!!!!!

I cannot believe it... today is Alison's 5th birthday. I recall exactly at this time five years ago I was packing my belongings and crying. Alison's birth would be the culmination of a 17 month journey from the loss of Solomon. Her birth day I thought would never arrive.

As Eric and I drove to the hospital I was crying, complaining that this would be just another trip to the hospital for nothing. I cried through my labor, waiting. And when I heard the cry of Alison for the first time, tears rolled from my eyes, horizontally across my cheeks, into my ears.

All the waiting for my moment of joy. Her cry was the sweetest sound I had ever heard.

Today she is 5, how is that possible? She is growing up fast and starts Kindergarten and Daisy Scouts in a few weeks.

My praying and perseverance paid off in the wonder of her.

Honored

On Monday August 7, 2006 I was honored along with other women as a Fortune 52 Woman. Beverly Fortune of the Long Island Press, interviewed me in March and the story ran in June. I held my breath for weeks, waiting to see what the story would look like. Once it ran I was thrilled. But it was a strange kind of thrilled-ness, and that is how I felt Monday night. As I stood off center of the podium with the other distinguished woman, I felt torn. Here I was being recognized, and that felt good, great even. But the reason I was recognized was because I had delivered my son Solomon still, had a subsequent miscarriage and two additional "spals" pregnancies resulting in the births of my children. The cherry on top was publishing the book. So the honor was bittersweet, and one that I wish I had never recieved, or at least not in this way. Still I hope my exposure helps other women, so that's gotta balance the scale a little.

*That* Day

Today is *That* Day - as I think of it. That day I was supposed to be having my first child. That day that my husband believes is that "guess date the doctor gives you so you can set up your office pool." It's now 6 years later on *that day* and I can recall my feelings of sadness. Waking up in a hotel room in Washington DC, my consolation prize; crying from my guts and hoping a baby would be brought to me along with room service. It never materialized of course and Eric and I spent a hot sticky day touring the Lincoln Memorial and other wonderful sites.

And now 6 years later, I sit and reflect while Alison is in day camp and Adam is tearing up the backroom. An email from my uncle let me know that a new baby was born today. So the date has now taken on a positive for me. *That* date is now *this* date, belonging to Amanda Lilly, whom I wish a lifetime of love, happiness and peace.

Baby Steps

My stepson has a family heritage project to do, and he, his mother, my husband and myself hope to get a good grade on it. The project has many pieces, and trying to figure out what's appropriate in a divorce/stepfamily situation has proven easier than it would appear.

One of the pieces to be constructed is a poster of the family tree. The sheet we are using as a guideline stops at my stepson, in which case it does not include myself or the children I have with my husband who are my stepson's half-siblings. No big deal really. But my stepson's mother, who is doing the poster, not only has generously include myself and my children, she sent me an email asking how to acknowledge Solomon. I was both shocked and touched.

At the time of my loss I was convinced she did not understand. And to be honest, I don't know for sure that at the time she did. But today is a new day and she 'gets' it. As I'm not comfortable sharing Solomon's picture, we agreed to use a charm that depicts a little boy, similar to the one I was given by my husband for my first mothers day. When I say first, I do mean first: immediately after we lost Solomon. I was a mother, a childless one, but still a mother.

So a photo of a charm depicting my little boy will be mounted on the poster along with pictures of myself, daughter and son. I'm thrilled.