Diaper Rash Flashback

Peanut -

Now that The Pickle is over nine months old, he is being introduced to the wonderful world of solid foods.  Cheerios.  Macaroni and cheese.  Steamed, chopped vegetables.  Goldfish crackers.  Ah....Goldfish crackers - your favorite!  (Unlike you - so far - The Pickle doesn't shove handfuls of Goldfish into his mouth without chewing and swallowing.)

The introduction of solid food brings new spices, tastes, acidity and fierce diaper rashes.  Your brother has been blessed with skin that can handle fragrances and heavy ingredients which is very different from the hyper-sensitive skin you inherited from me.  So far, The Pickle really hasn't dealt with a persistent diaper rash so it was a memory, a fear, Momma and Dadda didn't have to face until this past week.  And, Whoa Nelly, did we ever have to face it.

You see, Peanut, when you passed away you were in your second week of a persistent, nagging diaper rash.  The school nurse counseled that is was a yeast-based rash, and we were combatting it accordingly.  But it never totally cleared up.  That rash, and its potential link to a yeast infection, has haunted Momma and, in particular Dadda, ever since.  Was that rash a symptom of something worse?  If we had been able to get it under control would you still be alive?  Did the rash compromise your system and allow something worse to attack you?

So, last week your little brother showed signs of a diaper rash that kept getting worse.  By Friday it was out of control.  Suddenly, we were reliving January of 2011 all over again.  In a panic we called our doctor, took pictures of the rash, and received an odd but effective piece of advice.  Stop the diaper rash creams and ointments.  Stop the powder.  No more "baby wipes" regardless of how scent free they claim to be.  Simply put him in a bath with a tablespoon of bleach twice per day, allow to air dry and frost his tiny butt with zinc oxide.

Ta da!  Within a day the rash faded.  By the end of the weekend it was gone and healed.  On Sunday afternoon Momma looked at Dadda, sighed and said, "Oh, the things I wish we had known two years ago..."  He looked down and nodded in agreement.

Would this have made a difference for you?  I guess we will never know.  My logical brain tells me to let go of this line of thought.  My heart says something different.

The Momma-guilt is deep tonight. I hope you can feel how often I think about you.  And how very much I love you.  To the moon - and back!

- Momma

Oh, For The Love Of Vanna!

Peanut -

What is it with my boys and this strange fascination with Vanna White?  (Hey Vanna! April 27, 2011)  I mean, I know she's sparkly.  And has brilliant white teeth.  And lights up large letters with a mere brush of her hand.  I get all that.  But still...Vanna trumps Momma on a nightly basis.  First you and now The Pickle!

Tonight, after giving The Pickle a dinner of pasta primavera, strawberry & beet SUPER PUFFS!!! and a bottle, I left him in the play area to explore and wander while I washed the dishes.  In a quiet, still moment I glanced across the room to find a confusing vision of the past and present, Peanut and Pickle, merged into one.  The Pickle was standing in front of the television transfixed by Vanna and her shiny blue dress, both hands gripping the gate while he bounced up and down full of grins and giggles.  He finally plopped down on the floor only to start clapping his hands for Vanna...just like you.

If it's possible, Momma's heart shattered and healed all at once.  Tears and laughter.  A smile and a sob. The sound of my breath catching must have alarmed The Pickle.  As his little blonde head whipped around Momma remembered and recovered, "Heeeeeeeey Vanna!  Whassup girl?!" And, The Pickle broke into a beautiful smile.

Oh Peanut...there you are...right there...in the sunshine of his smile.  In the beauty of that moment.  In the Momma love in my heart.

Joy and grief, side by side.

With each day that passes, I understand that sentiment more deeply.  I know it intimately.  I embrace it.

So, beginning tomorrow night and every night after Momma will exclaim at the top of her lungs - HEY VANNA!  And I will laugh.  And cry.  Why?  Because I love you.  How much????  To the mooooooon - and back!

-Momma

 

The Comfort Circle

Peanut -

Last Friday Momma had lunch with a special group of women who share a single, simple bond with our family.  They have experienced profound loss...death of a child/spouse/sibling.  In a normal world, we probably wouldn't have ever met.  Our social circles don't necessarily intersect.  But now.  Now these women are, in many ways, family.  Friends who understand Momma's heart.  Friends who require no words, apologies, or explanation.

It is so hard to describe this bond to others.  To lifelong friends who continue to stand by our sides, desperately wanting to support and provide love.  To family members who are also navigating their grief while wanting to be strong for Momma and Dadda.  To other friends and co-workers who, after 19+ months, believe we must be "over" this tragedy.

Momma equates this new group of soul-mates to other types of groups.  Actually, one group in particular - knitting circles.  In these groups individuals congregate based on a common bond - knitting.    The conversations that take place over knitting...well, that's where the magic happens.  As knitting needles create new patterns, colors, designs the discussions take a parallel path.

It's similar when Momma connects with The Comfort Circle.  The connections may take place over e-mail, telephone, Facebook, lunch, a glass of wine.  It doesn't matter.  The level of comfort, the sigh of relief, the removal of the mask, is always similar and liberating.  We find each other completing sentences, finishing thoughts, laughing as we share like experiences.  Oh, what a morbid mystery we must be to other diners when we have a group meal!

Peanut, death, loss and tragedy have changed not just Momma and Dadda...they have transformed our friendships and interactions with the world.  But, rather than see this as a negative Momma chooses to see it as an amazing, positive impact.  Another ripple in your Peanut Effect.

I send a note of love to Heaven on behalf of the women who have touched Momma's heart, surrounded us, and shared in our journey.  Sarah, Amy, Nancy, Jill, Shawn, Laura, Jules, Katie, Laurie, Ann...and so many others.  I hate that we know each other.  I love that we know each other.

Peanut, it is in these connections that I feel your presence the most.  I still feel you, every moment of every day.  And, oh, how I love and miss you.  To the moon - and back.

-  Momma

"Are You OK?"

Peanut -

Momma has heard the above question too many times to count over the last two weeks.  It is a question that is based in good intention, but makes me absolutely nuts.

Am I OK?

No.  I am not.  My son is dead.  And I'm still here.  My brain is forever scarred with images from the worst day ever.  My heart is forever confused by losing the beautiful gift of you.

Am I OK?

No.  I will never be "OK" or "The Old Me" again.  There will always be a shadow, a sadness in my eyes...a sign of Momma's unfinished earthly love for her Peanut.

Am I OK?

No.  I still cry most days.  Yet, I have rediscovered happiness and laughter and hope in this life.  A smile is always ready and waiting on my lips, thanks mostly to The Pickle.  But, there are still painful days, exhausting weeks.

Am I OK?

No.  Because "OK" doesn't measure up anymore.  I owe you more than that.  I am not simply surviving.  Since your death, it is Momma's mission to make this life better, one interaction at a time.  To continue your Peanut Effect.

Am I OK?

No.  No matter if it's two months, two years or two decades after that awful day in January of 2011, I am not OK.  I am a bereaved parent.  I am a Momma who outlived her amazing son, and no parent should ever have to face that reality.  Parents do not, should not, outlive their legacy.  Their heart.  Their love.

A better question, perhaps?  "How are you?"

Thank you for asking.  I am taking it one day, one moment, at a time.  There are wonderful days, full of love and remembrance.  But, some days are dark and almost unbearable.  Yet, I am slowly rediscovering my love of laughter.  The sound of my voice singing full blast in the car.  Dancing without a care in the world.  Yes, I will always live with the fear and knowledge that it can all be ripped away in a second which simply makes me embrace it more completely in the here and now.

Peanut, I don't mean to sound bitter or angry.  Momma is tired.  Feeling alone in this new period of dark grief.  My heart knows it will ebb and flow and ebb and flow.  The trick is to keep facing each day with my chin up.

I am missing you so very much.  I miss your toothy smile, warm breath, and curly blonde locks.  Your expressive hands and monkey toes.  Your funny penguin walk and deliberate, hand-smacking crawl.  In short, Momma misses you.  I love you, Peanut.  How much?  To the mooooooooon - and back!

- Momma

Pertussis

Peanut -

Momma thought we made it through this week without too many wounds and emotional scarring. That first day of school was tough...walking in and smelling the same scents, tracing footsteps from 2 years ago, passing the door to your classroom...it was jarring.  But, also comforting.  It felt good to get back into the old routine.  I thought, "Hey!  We've got this!"  Until yesterday.  Dadda brought your brother home from school with a note tucked into his diaper bag.  Pertussis alert.  Whooping cough.  The older sibling of a child in The Pickle's class has a confirmed, diagnosed case of WHOOPING COUGH.  Seriously?

After 9 months of no runny noses, no coughs, no sickness, I am now faced with a little Pickle who has a runny nose and tiny, persistent cough.  Regardless of his immunization status we now have to start him on a regimen of antibiotics to guard him against pertussis.  Momma stayed up most of the night watching The Pickle sleep, making sure his chest was rising and falling with breath.  The Angel Care Monitor was fully armed and alarmed twice, sending Momma's heart into overdrive. In the midst of these events all I can think is, "What am I doing?"

What kind of Momma loses her Peanut, is fortunate enough to be blessed with The Pickle, but still goes back to work?  Forcing her miracle child into daycare, a place full of sickness, germs, and - apparently - pertussis?  What kind of lifestyle is so important that we need Momma to keep plugging away at this job?  Am I simply asking the universe to rob us of another son?  Have I not learned my lesson?

Peanut, in the months after your death the truly important things in life became crystal clear.  The drama and politics of work faded into the background.  Material possessions lost their value.  Gossip and petty arguments no longer had a place in Momma's world.  But slowly, ever so quietly, these have burrowed and snuck back into my frame of reference.  The swirl of life, events, schedules, meetings, sunrises and sunsets took over.  Momma hadn't even noticed it until yesterday...until the pertussis alert.

Why does it take heart-stopping events, unspeakable losses, and once-in-a-lifetime moments to make us (me) stop and breathe?  To reassess?  Reprioritize?  Shouldn't this be the way we strive to live?  Our aspirational best?  Why is it so easy to get caught up in the muck?

Peanut, you are Momma's North Star.  You are my reminder, "Be better, Momma."  Today I focus that energy on The Pickle, his health, and the love of our family.  The things that matter.  And I commit to release and walk away from the noise, the swirl, the drama, the politics.  Today, I will crawl on the floor with your brother, take him to a pumpkin patch to play in the fall leaves, shower him with hugs and kisses, and watch him like a hawk as he naps.

Today I will make sure you, my Peanut, feel my love, my heart, my grief and appreciation all the way up in heaven.  I love you, sweet 'Nut.  How much?  To the mooooooooon - and back.

- Momma

A very unhappy Peanut, sitting in a pumpkin patch in October 2009.