One Year Later

Mom has the pukes, so I am home with Layla today.  She’s been down for her afternoon nap almost an hour, so I’d bet money (if I wasn’t fresh out) that I won’t get very far with this before I hear little noises through the monitor.  Today has been a little chaotic, but it has reminded me of how lucky I am to have a mama that relishes keeping our baby girl.  When she called at 6:30AM, I was relieved it was just a stomach bug and nothing more serious.  Skip and I discussed options, but decided I would just keep her, and we’d venture to school after her morning nap. 

My new-to-me car is in the shop, so I am driving my OLD-TO-ME Altima while it’s being fixed.  I’d only had my new-to-me car seven weeks before burying its front bumper in a ditch leaving church, but I’d already gotten used to the perks of a newer car, like headrests to hold my Kindle for Layla and a CD player that will play Laurie Berkner.  The ride to school is 20 minutes, so during her nap, I braved the cold and Jerry-rigged the Kindle to the seat with an assortment of bungee cords Skip got for Christmas-Thanks Rich!  She traveled well and smiled pretty for my school peeps and I got very little done before it was time to meet Drew for lunch.  Again, she smiled pretty and attracted many compliments from the patrons of the restaurant.  Oh and she emptied half her squeeze pouch in Drew’s lap (good thing she owns a clothing store!) before we headed home. 

After we got home, I checked with mom who, unfortunately, did not think she’d be able to keep Layla tomorrow.  I texted a few people and initially everyone who responded was unavailable.  Christi was available but also recovering from Strep Throat, so she was an option but a slightly less appealing one.  Skip was just about to cancel his meeting and keep Layla himself when my very first daughter, Alanna, texted back that she could keep her.  Alanna was the first student I claimed for my own and she’s great with kids!  Problem solved!  I can start second semester tomorrow without worrying about Layla. 

As we were playing in Layla’s room before her nap, I opened Timehop and could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped my mind amidst the weirdness of today.  One year ago today, I got in my car and waved goodbye to my first baby girl.  It feels impossible that it was a year ago. When I let myself remember all that went into her leaving, my chest tightens and my eyes well up like it was yesterday.  I try not to “go there” too often because I’ve worked so hard to forgive her mother and form a relationship with her, and thinking about all the hurt she caused us makes that tough.  I try not to feel like only a means to an end for her even still as I work to stay in Amoura’s life. 

Just this week, through a series of emails, I learned that both Amoura and her baby sister were in Charlotte with her sister’s father and that her mama had no way of getting them back to her in Winston.  Apparently, they’d been there for two weeks and he didn’t have gas money and she doesn’t drive, so they were kind of at an impasse.  She’d let the girls go with him because she had no one to watch them while she worked (he doesn’t work-shocker).  What I thought was going to be a fun couple of days with all of them at our house exchanging Christmas presents and catching up turned into Skip and I leaving Layla with mom after dinner Monday night and driving to the other side of Charlotte and straight to Winston to drop the girls off.  I felt totally used and unappreciated but what else could I do?  The mom in me just could not ignore her request to help her get her children back to her.  The ma-ma to Amoura in me could not pass up a chance to hug that sweet child even if it was just while getting her in and out of a car seat. 

I saw a picture on Face.book the other day that was a spin on the typical Foster care to Adoption pictures.  It was a birth mom getting her daughter back after 252 days.  The blog explained that the mom got her life together and the foster mom and birth mom forged a friendship.  The foster mom was so proud of the birth mom and that made it easier to let the sweet baby girl go back to the woman who gave birth to her.  When I got finished reading it, I wasn’t inspired, I was just sad and jealous and angry that our story did not turn out that way. 

The truth is, Amoura’s mom is in no better shape now than she was when she dropped off her 8 month old at our house almost two years ago.  Yes, she has a (part time) job.  But she still has the same childcare issues she needed us to help with then.  She doesn’t have a steady cell phone, she doesn’t appear to be any closer to getting her license, not to mention her GED, and she and the girls live in a two bedroom apartment they share with her friend and her boyfriend and their (monster of a) three year old.  I know the girls are clothed and fed and there’s a roof over their heads, but its just so vastly different from the life I want for Amoura that I try not to think about it too often.  It leaves me feeling so weepy and helpless and angry that it’s just best if I pretend like things are different. 

It’s harder to pretend now that I‘ve been to their apartment.  Amoura cried and cried when we got close to the apartment and she realized where she was going.  I don’t think she’s being neglected or abused or anything like that. I think she thought she was going to our house and she likes being away from their rundown apartment and the chaos that undoubtedly fills it. It’s hard to not wonder who will keep the girls when their mama goes back to work on Friday.  The plan is for her friend to keep them, but she works long hours and has the (monster of a) three year old.  It’s taken everything in me (and the understanding that Skip might kill me) not to ask for her back.  Supposedly, once she works enough hours she can get daycare vouchers and the girls can go to daycare.  The thought of Amoura going to daycare 10 hours a day used to frighten me; now, it would help me sleep at night.

I started writing this afternoon just to honor the day and show appreciation for those who are so willing to help us when we need it with childcare and so faithful to still ask about Amoura.  I’ve been hesitant to share too much about her because, well, it’s just sad.  But, I know many of you who prayed for us last year while as we said “see ya later” will pray for her now.  Pray for her living conditions, pray that daycare vouchers come through soon, pray that we would be willing to help in whatever way God intends on using us (and I know He’s not done using us in this!) and that Skip and I would be on the same page.  Pray for people in her area to come into their lives and speak truth and be a constant support for them. 

I wrote in a co-worker's shower card today that it takes a village, and no one knows that better than us.  Thank you for being our village and praying for us and our girls.    

Hello Summer

As I sit here administering an exam on one of the last days of school, I am filled with memories of one year ago.

I remember so vividly this time last year.  My goal was to make sub plans for two units during exam week.  I was only marginally successful, but I didn’t care, I was pregnant!  I had to come back in August, endure four weeks max of school and spend the rest of the semester at home with a new baby.  I had maternity bathing suits and pool tags in hand.  Mom had just retired and we had lots of fun little trips planned. Our little boy had a name and would soon have the coolest nursery I’ve ever seen (thanks to my amazing in laws).  It was the best time in my life, a truly magical summer.  Skip was working from home and we ate breakfast together every morning and went to doctor appointments and spent a week in Palm Beach.  In all my summer pictures, I was tan and round, and oh so happy.  I had showers on the calendar and gift cards to spend.  I was going to be a mama.

And then I wasn’t.  Or at least, not in the way I had planned.  And this year has taught me so much about who I am.  About who my husband is.  About who my real friends are.  About what I can survive and even thrive in spite of.  And I wouldn’t change the experience of last summer or my first pregnancy for anything. In spite of knowing that Levi would not ever see that nursery, I would do it all again.  It’s a part of me. It’s the most painful part of me, but those memories are mine alone.  

So as I’m watching these seniors take their last exams and so full of excitement for the days to come, I’ve realized I want this summer to match last summer.  I not only have a baby to look forward to, I have an almost 10 month old I adore who is about to experience her first summer and in true Erdman fashion at that!  My blogger friend/idol Brooke wrote recently about her joy and grief over planning a 2^nd birthday party for her rainbow baby. This quote has stayed with me since reading it and it describes perfectly the way I feel about facing embracing this summer, “Grief and joy are not a two sided coin, I don’t choose one or the other.  I carry them both with me always.”   Isn’t she good? 

So, I’m glad I don’t have to choose.  I know that there will be many things that happen this summer that will remind me of the way things should have been.  Baby A is a wonderful blessing, but sometimes she reminds me of the little boy who should be crawling around and insisting on watching daddy grilling on the porch.  I love being pregnant, but when I can’t enjoy a cocktail at a cookout or buy much of anything at Drew’s new boutique, I remember that this summer should be different.  Just last week, I got out my maternity clothes and had a good cry.  I was not ready to see all the things that I wore when I was carrying Levi.  I think that’ll get better, but there are a few outfits I love that I know I won’t be able to wear without being overcome by sadness.  So grief and joy will be a part of this summer.  And I’m mostly okay with that.  I’ve gotten pretty good at letting joy prevail, and I have a lot to look forward to. We’re taking Baby A to the beach with my family in a few weeks, and as of June 13^th, I will be “unemployed” for almost 10 weeks.  Skip is sill working from home, so I’ll get to see more of him.  We find out the gender of this little rainbow baby on June 23^rd.  I know this summer will be different.  Everything has been different since losing Levi.  But, I am okay with different.  Hello summer!

Reality Check

I have never been so happy to see the sun set.  This morning started like any other Monday, except that it’s the next-to-last Monday before school’s out for summer (I sang those last words as I typed them.  I hope you sang them as you read.).  I checked my phone during first block because Skip often has questions in the morning while he’s dressing Baby A for the day.  Just last week he sent her with mom in a sun hat AND a bow, so, you know, he needs guidance.  He’d sent me this adorable video of her babbling this morning whilst still in her jammies.  As I was watching, the head of Rise Up called me.  I couldn’t answer in the middle of class, so I sent it to voice mail and went back to teaching.  A few minutes later I checked to see if she’d left a message and found a text from her, “please call me ASAP, it’s urgent.”  I excused myself to the hall and called right away.

Aimee informed me that Baby A’s mom was being asked to leave the house where she’s been staying and that she would be coming to get Baby A by this evening.  I lost my mind.  I cried the ugly cry.  I’ve been back at work for 7 months and have managed not to ugly cry and 30 seconds into this phone call, I was balling. And begging and pleading with someone who has very little control to please leave this precious baby where she’s being well loved and taken care of.  Aimee had not gotten ahold of Emily, so I started calling her over and over all the while crying my eyes out and most definitely not doing my job.  Megan declared that I must go home and tell my mom and not cry in front of my classes, so as she’s had some practice doing, she began making plans to get my classes covered.  I was headed home by 9am to spend what I was afraid was going to be my last day with this little girl that I am so in love with.

I called Mom on the way and assured her that I was physically okay and so was my baby, but that Baby A was being taken tonight.  I talked to Aimee again who just wanted to prepare me for the worst.  She’s taken in a child in a similar situation and it did not end well, so she just wanted to prepare me.  About half way home, Emily called and I filled her in on what I knew. After a few more phone calls, she had the whole story and was trying through tears to reassure me that she did not think that Baby A’s mom would want to take her back tonight.  After Aimee basically guaranteed me that she would want her back tonight, I had a hard time trusting her.  Whether she came and got the baby tonight or not, I knew that the dynamic of the situation would be changing and I was still really scared.  Skip came by on his way to shoot to tell Baby A bye just incase she was gone before he got home from work.  Thankfully she was outside with mom and I didn’t have to witness this.  When mom told me about it, I fell all to pieces again.

Then we waited.  And prayed.  And cried.  Baby A played and slept, and remarkably mom and I slept when she did.  Emily met with Baby A’s mom and although plans are very, very tentative for her future living arrangements, she did not want to come get our girl tonight.  I haven’t gotten much more than a text or two as they are still trying to figure some things out.  Skip and I realize that we are probably going to have to step up and take more of a leadership role in her mom’s life if we hope to 1) keep Baby A and 2) ever feel comfortable about sending her back to her mom.  More than anything, today was a wake up call.  As much as I have tried not to get overly attached and as much as I have known that she will go back to her mom one day, I realized today exactly how hard it will be when that day comes.  It will be easier if her mom is in a good place to take her back and if she has a home and a plan for child care and all the ideals are in place.  But it will still be hard.  There will always be a part of me that feels like another one of my babies should be with me but is not.  And I knew all of this before we accepted this challenge.  I knew it would be hard and I know (because we have survived everything else) that we will survive it, too.  It’s just so easy in the midst of bath time and putting her in cute bathing suits and laughing at her funny faces that she’s ever going anywhere.  Today was a very big reality check that one day, hopefully not until her mom is in a much better place, that she will be leaving us.

**I feel the need to add a disclaimer that Baby A’s mom is not involved in alcohol or drug abuse of any kind.  The house where she was staying (for good reason) has very strict rules and she violated a rule.  They have a very low/zero tolerance policy and a waiting list that doesn’t allow for second chances.  Nothing that she did makes us fear her ability to be a good parent.  Not receiving the additional help from the housing program could delay her progress.  Please join us in praying her success as she continues to try to better herself.

One Year Ago

Today has been one of those days that I just wanted to write.  School was “normal” today if high school is ever really normal.  I picked Baby A up right after school and she was happy and playful and we enjoyed an afternoon of laughing and singing and drooling (her, not me)!  But all throughout the day, I’ve had this little cloud of sadness following me around.  I’ll forget why it’s there and then remember and the cloud gets bigger and sadder. 

One year ago today, my friend Amber delivered a sleeping daughter they call “Baby Girl.”  One year ago she was not my friend and I had no idea how much I would need her four short months later.  I am so sad that one year ago today her life changed forever and so grateful that it did because of the blessing she’s been to me.  She’s the first one who told me I would be okay who I actually believed.  She’s the one who told me that books on grief would help me, but the Word of God would heal me.  She looked “together” and “normal” four month after her world came crashing down just like mine did.  If she could be okay, maybe I could be, too. 

Amber and her husband released balloons and butterflies at their Baby Girl’s gravesite today.  They took her older daughters to lunch and to pick out a birthday cake for their sister.  Her hope was to make the day “sweet and special” for her daughters.  I can’t imagine how difficult today has been for them.  It makes me so glad that Amber and I serve a risen Savior that knows our pain and gives us hope.   

Lightening Strikes Twice

When something like the death of a child happens to you, you can’t believe that it’s you.  That the sadness and the story and the tears are for you.  That people are cooking your dinner and offering to clean your house because your baby died.   The first time I heard Skip tell our story, it sounded like the saddest thing I’d ever heard and then I realized that it was not just a story.  It was our life and it was the saddest thing I’d ever heard. 

Three weeks ago, the unthinkable happened.  Another baby in our family died.  Kinsley was Holly and CJ’s second child.  Their little girl was born on Saturday, April 5^th with a diaphragmatic hernia.  She died less than 24 hours after she was born.  Almost 7 months to the day after Levi died, their baby died, too.  My fearless husband drove to the hospital as soon as we heard and stayed with them until they said goodbye to their baby girl.  I stayed at home with Baby A and prayed and cried for our friends whose pain I knew too well.  CJ and Skip have always been pretty close.  They played baseball together in high school and have always enjoyed each others’ company.  They now have a bond that few men share.  They have babies that beat them heaven.

We went to visit Holly and CJ together a week after her death.  The scene looked oh so familiar.  CJ fussing over Holly, Holly trying to be brave.  To talk without crying.   To articulate emotions that no one can justly put into words.  We talked about funeral home visits and the decision to have a service (or not) and the possibility of trying again.  We wondered together about some of our more unusual thoughts being “normal” as if anything related to a child dying is normal.  I’ve always liked Holly a lot, but I felt connected to her in a way that I’ve never felt before.  She’s a member of the club now, the saddest club ever, but the club all the same.  She knows my pain and I know hers.

I went again this week alone and spent some more time with Holly.  I don’t think I went as much for her as I went for me.  I needed to see her.  I wanted her to feel connected to someone else who’s been down this road, and if I’m honest, I wanted to feel connected to this road again.  It felt good to talk about Levi so much and to try to offer some kind of comfort.  I was so blessed by the blogger moms that I began to follow the days and weeks after we lost Levi and the ones who reached out to me personally to offer hope.  I want so badly to pay it forward and be that for Holly. 

I just cannot get over the irony, the cruelty of fate in this all.  What are the odds of two babies in one family dying period, but within 7 months of each other?  I was astounded by the “coincidence” (which sounds like a pleasant, positive word, but I don’t know another to use) of having a stillborn baby 36 years after my mom endured the same.  Then I decided that all those years ago when my mom lost my brother, that the Lord in His infinite wisdom knew that one day I would need her strength.  One day, I would need a real life example of the survival that would be possible for me, too.  And I can’t help but wonder if on September 7^th, 2013,  He knew that on April 5th, 2014 Holly would need a real life example, too. I hope that I am not setting too lofty a goal to aspire to be that for her. 

More than Getting By

There’s a song lyric I’ve come to love and quote often, “I get by with a little help from my friends.”  In the last seven or so months, this has become such a true statement, a motto of sorts, for me.  When we lost Levi (as I’ve said over and over again) I was so blessed by those close, old friends and a few new ones who were not afraid to get down in the mire and be sad not just for us, but with us, too.  For example, Jenilee has remembered the 7^th of the month every month since September.  I’ve gotten so many Face.book messages from former students, girls I know only from one meeting at a wedding or church event, and people who don’t even know me but know our story.  Messages with scripture, promises of prayer and even fasting for our family to grow again.  I’ve sat at my desk after school and cried with Megan five month later because we were (am) still so sad. 

So, when we got Baby A, I was not surprised by the outpouring of support.  The same friend who came the week after Levi died with a teddy bear weighing 6lbs 2oz, brought and installed a car seat for Baby A the same night we got her.  Friends who brought us meals and bought me bras while I was in the hospital showed up with onesies and Bumbo seats and baby food galore.  I was so thrilled by their kindness and so glad to be a source of joy for others.  You know I hated feeling pitied and like I made the whole world sad by just being in it after we lost Levi.  It feels good to be the reason people are happy and cooing over an adorable baby girl.

I got to spend yesterday with two of my most treasured friends, Ashley and Jenilee.  I spent three of some of the best years of my life with these girls in college as roommates.  I learned so much about life from/with these girls as we became adults together, and I learn something new from them every time we get together.  When my dream of being a (practicing) parent got put on hold last year, one of the things that made me SO sad was feeling “out of the loop” with these girls.  I couldn’t plan a “Boone girls” weekend because I felt so different from these mamas who have a hard time (naturally) going too long without talking about their babies.  Yesterday, with Baby A in tow, I got my first taste of parent talk, and it was amazing! Jenilee gave me sleep training advice (more on Baby A’s sleeping later) and Ashley gave me some baby food making tips.  It was a glorious morning just like I had envisioned months before when Ashley and I were pregnant together, and only a little bittersweet that it came to fruition a different way than I had planned. 

I just love these girls (and many others who’ve been there for us) so deeply that I find it hard to put into words and don’t feel like I am doing them justice now.   I know that being friends with someone who has been through what we’ve been through isn’t always easy, but I am so thankful for those who’ve signed up for the task anyway.  I have done more than “get by” and had more than “a little help” and I never want to take these blessings for granted.

All too Familiar

Last month I got a wonderful call from a dear friend of mine.  She was going to be adopting a baby.  I was oh so happy for her and, of course, oh so sad for me. Before I lost my baby, I honest can’t remember being jealous of anyone (except those with freakishly high metabolisms).  I was one of the last of my friends to get married, but it never really hurt when another friend announced her engagement; I could be sincerely happy for them.  I could throw bridal showers, attend bachelorette weekends, and buy pieces of their China pattern.   And then my baby died, and I became so jealous of people with breathing babies and happy, naïve pregnancies where death was no part of the equation that sometimes I don’t recognize myself. 

After my friend called, it took a few days to work up genuine enthusiasm over her awesome news.  I prayed a lot about it, asked a few of my best girl friends to pray with me, and forced myself to ask my friend all the tiny details of her adoption.  And, by God’s grace, my jealousy quickly subsided and I got invested in this coming little girl.  I started believing in happy endings again.  I was so excited; I even started working on my plans to attend the baby shower, something I’d pretty much decided I would never do again. We spent afternoons walking and talking about cloth diapers, the high price of formula, and procedures they would have to follow the days after her arrival.  I am proud to say I was there for her the way she was there for me when I was expecting a baby when she so desperately wanted to be.  That’s what she deserved and I am so glad I found it in me to be that friend for her.

Then yesterday got all too familiar.  I got a text at school to call her when I could.  I knew what had happened as soon as I read it.  A call confirmed what I suspected; the birth mom that chose them just five weeks before changed her mind.  Three weeks before they would officially become parents, their world was turned upside down.  One minute, they’re counting down to maternity leave, 2am feedings, and a newborn photo shoot; and the next minute, all those dreams are over and there is nothing left to look forward to.  And it feels like there will never be anything to look forward to ever again.  And you feel stupid for believing that your dream would come true.  You feel silly for registering for a car seat you won’t be needing and envisioning a summer vacation with a baby that isn’t going to be yours after all.  You wonder what to do with all the stuff you bought in those moments of weakness when you thought you’d be a mom.  I know all too well how she feels. 

So why don’t I know what to say?  Why do I feel duped right along with her?  If anyone is supposed to know that there are no guarantees, it’s me.  If someone should’ve been reminding her to not count her chickens before they hatch, it should’ve been me.  I feel ridiculous for believing so much in this happiness before it proved itself.  More than anything, I just feel the same sadness I felt almost 7 months ago when the same thing happened to us. 

I’ve said a lot that I think I met this friend at the perfect time in my life.  We were fixing to get married and she and her husband were newly weds.  We started trying to have babies around the same time.  She tried for a year before learning of their infertility issues.  We got pregnant right away and miscarried. 9 months after that, we got pregnant again with Levi and lost him, too.  They went through two surgeries to increase their odds of conceiving only to find out that they wouldn’t even be candidates for IVF.  They chose to pursue adoption and now this has happened.  I hate to say “misery loves company” because it sounds hateful and bitter, but there’s no denying that there is comfort in knowing that you are not the only one for whom motherhood has not come easy. And so, I will be there for her the way she was there for me.  And we will wait for the babies God does want to us raise and we will find solace in knowing that we are not alone.