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.    

Decisions, Decisions

This is a big week around our house.  Skip will be turning 34 on Tuesday and much more excitedly, Baby A will be a year old on the same day!  I’ve had a blast (and several minor panic attacks) over planning her birthday party.  I never realized there were so many decisions to be made!  Should we do a two-for-one and celebrate Skip’s birthday at the same time and location?  Should we have the party at our house or at the park?  How many is too many people to invite?  Who should take her one-year-old pictures? (This is a very tricky decision because of Skip’s relationships with so many great photographers.) On what day and at what time should the party be and what should we serve to eat?  There is/was so much to consider, but I had a lot of fun with it.

I pinned an adorable invitation and had Skip begin to recreate it for me in Photoshop.  When he casually mentioned the cost of printing and mailing the number of invites I was planning to send out, I scraped that idea and decided on Evites and a Face.book event.  Skip got prices from several of his photographer friends and although their work is amazing and I am sure worth their fees, we opted to have Skip take them instead.  I am so unsure of how Baby A will act during her first photoshoot, especially if the photographer is male, and I know how easy it is for Da-Da to get her to smile. Plus, he’s got a fancy-schmancy camera and doesn’t charge a sitting fee!  I priced a shelter at the Village Park and tickets to the Splash Pad and Train ride, and although it is really a super deal, it wasn’t free, so we’re having the party at home.  I won’t have to lug everything in and out of the park, and I’ll be forced to give my house a good cleaning before school starts back.

I hate to sound cheap (although if you know me, you know that I SO TOTALLY AM), but I never realized how expensive parties could be!  And I know she’s a baby and won’t remember this party or the next few to come, but I will.  And, if we get to keep her forever (you’re praying for that with me, right?) I never ever want her to look at things we (will hopefully) do for her little sister and wonder why it wasn’t done for her in a similar fashion.  I’ve also realized why other baby loss mamas have shared about the emotional toll that planning birthday parties after loss can be.  It’s been super fun, but some parts have just been sad.  Do you have any idea how many cute birthday party themes there are out there for little boys?  About a zillion.  And this is the time of year that I should be planning my first little boy birthday party.  I am so thankful and blessed to have one to plan at all, but it’s just not the one I should be planning, and that sucks. 

Choosing gifts and sweet baby girl wrapping paper has not sucked and has gotten me over the sadness humps when the come.  I shopped Craigslist and found a Cozy Coupe (the toddler smart car looking thing) for a steal.  Then, I found a Little Tykes climber with slide on Craigslist for another great deal.  I ordered her some books with African American children in them and her first Bible on Amazon.  My other gift ideas- a crawling tunnel, a monogrammed suitcase, and shoes- I farmed out to mama.  I’ve been really looking forward to giving them to her.  When we picked her up from her weekend visitation (that I survived like a champ!) we also ended up picking up a brand-new pink and white Cozy Coupe.  It was half assembled and part of that was done incorrectly but it was a nice present-nicer than anything I assumed she’d get.  Her (biological) father had apparently gotten it for her but they couldn’t get it put together properly.  Just as I suspected, she LOVES it and she and Skip spent the evening driving it around.  Skip only knows one speed, so she had to hang on tight, but she loved it.  I plan to try to re-sell the one I purchased from Craigslist after the party, so I’m not even bummed they ripped off my present idea. 

So anyway, we’re partying at home and my fabulous friend, Kimberly, is crafting an adorable smash cake and making cupcakes.  I’m also gonna serve hot ham and cheese sandwiches, fruit, and the goldfish’s cost effective first cousin-Aldi brand “penguins.” Skip’s parents are coming up from Atlanta and Nana Lou has made her an adorable onesie/dress that says “I’m one” and Christi let me borrow Paisley’s birthday outfit complete with a tu-tu.  I actually planned the party colors around the tu-tu, so like the diva she is, she’ll have a wardrobe change mid party!  I was worried no one would come, but now I think it’s just gonna be great!  And, if the birthday girl will either nap early or troop through a morning without a nap, it’ll be even better!

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!

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.   

Mother's Day Recap

I’ve tried several times to write about Mother’s Day, but nothing has seemed to do it justice.  The weekend followed an incredibly stressful week.  I started the week with a nasty old that I promptly shared with the baby and the husband.  We attended a memorial service for Baby Kinsley on Tuesday, and Wednesday began our tumultuous planning for Baby A’s first weekend away from home.  Plus, my blogger friend/idol Brooke wrote a fabulous blog (check it out here) about Mother’s Day and everything I wrote seemed to pale in comparison of the eloquence with which she wrote.

So here’s a re-cap.  I came home Friday to find a lovely basket on the table and a very sweet card from Skip.  At first, I thought my date challenged husband thought that Mother’s Day was actually Friday. No, really.  Then, I read the card and realized that he was just early because he anticipated a busy weekend filming multiple weddings.  Let me tell you, the man could write for Hallmark.  I am still carrying around a card he gave me about a month after we lost Levi in my purse and I am thinking about doing the same with this one.  Anyway, the basket was full of fancy skin care products including self-tanner since I’ve sworn off the tanning bed and awesome bronzer that takes the paste off my face.  Rumor has it he had contemplated hiring a cleaning lady, but the makeup was just as nice…almost.  The present just validated the fact that Mother’s Day is a very difficult holiday for me (and many others for many reasons) but it is my holiday, too.

Friday night, Amoura and I took mom out for a Mother’s Day (weekend) dinner.  It was a meager gift comparatively, but we had a really nice time.  Between the sickness and the craziness of the week, I didn’t even make time to get a card, but she didn’t care.  We spent most of Saturday together, too.  It feels so good to know that someone is always on my side.  Whether I am wrong or unreasonable or tooting my own horn, my mama agrees with me like it’s the gospel.  She worries with me over Baby A and is a bigger help than I could’ve hoped for with her, too.  We love her.  Hope this makes up for not getting that card!

Then Sunday came.  Church felt only slightly awkward.  It’s amazing the things I notice and the words that trigger heart palpitations now that never have before.  I could tell when our pastor was about to go into the Mother’s Day segment (the 67 or so children that filled the stage were a dead give away).  Our pastor eloquently spoke about all the various situations the females present could be experiencing, and therefore, all the women were asked to stand and given a commemorative pen by one of the little ones on stage.  Last year, I was pregnant with Levi and the word “stillbirth” was not in my vernacular, so I cannot remember what the schpill was like.  I just remember being giddy and un-jaded. But, this time didn't wholly suck.

The rest of the day was a blur of lunch with Skip’s family and anticipation of Baby A’s return.  My motherly instincts told me the pick up would not go smoothly and it didn’t.  When she didn’t come back on time, I spent about an hour thinking that, like the other little boy that made me a mama, I might never see her again.  But then the phone rang and the pick up time was changed, and I could breathe a little easier.  We took her home and gave her a bath and lots of extra snuggles before putting her to bed. 

And then Mother’s Day was over and I was never so happy to be going back to school on a Monday.   Just like when I went back after Levi, I needed to be somewhere that I was in control, where I have a say. It was a great Monday and just before it ended, a guidance counselor who I don’t know really well or have much reason to work with closely, walked into my room with a beautiful calla lily and a bright orange decorative watering can. Oh, and a Mother’s Day card.  She apologized for being late and told me to plant a little garden for “my Levi.”  Her words were music to my ears.  I so seldom have someone bring him up to me let alone call him by name, it was all I could do to hold back the tears.  The fact that 8 months later, she thought of me on Mother’s Day and went out of her way to acknowledge it for me left me speechless. 

All in all, I survived Mother’s Day.  I spent a lot of time missing the two babies who’ve made me a mama.  Thankfully, one of is now asleep upstairs, and I’d like to think that the other is running around heaven playing with his cousin, Kinsley.

Levi's Lily

Five Weeks Later

We’ve had Baby A five weeks today.  I’ve learned so much about parenthood in the last month.  I find myself wondering all the time if some of the things I’ve picked up on quickly because I have mom genes (not mom jeans-lol) and was already a mother before we got her or because necessity is a quick teacher.  I can say that I have learned the meaning of “it takes a village to raise a child.”  And I just love my villagers! 

What I have to remember and say to myself over and over again is that this is temporary.  In one sense, it’s a marvelous arrangement.  She’s in such a fun stage and we’re getting to watch her learn to walk, teach her to touch her nose on command, and hear the new words she’s learning to say (namely “da-da” and “na-na”).  But then, we won’t have to pay for braces or buy her first car, or float a loan to send her to college.  So why does it disappoint me to think about not being the one to do those things for her?

It’s funny the amount of people who want to know, “can you keep her?”  I am quick to answer “no” as much as a reminder for myself than anything.  We knew going into this that she would only be ours for a time.  We agreed to the very thing that stopped us from pursuing foster care- knowingly falling in love with a baby that will one day not live in our home.  It will be hard to give her back when the time comes, but it would’ve been harder to have said no to a situation that can’t be called anything else but a calling.  So, we hope and we pray and we are working towards a relationship with her mother that will always allow us to be in her life. 

Tomorrow will be her first overnight visitation with her mother since we’ve had her.  If I said I was looking forward to it, I’d be lying.  My reaction to this weekend arrangement has given me a tiny glimpse of how difficult it will be to one day give her back for good.  What I think (and pray) will be the difference is that her mom will be ready to take her back.  She’ll have a steady, dependable job.  She will have secured childcare and a stable, permanent roof to put over her head.  She’s not there yet.  The weekend arrangement is a bit precarious and the plans were not well, planned out originally and that caused me some serious anxiety.  Throw in the fact that this Sunday is Mother’s Day and this weekend has been a source of dread for me since earlier this week when I was told this would happen.  Skip and I are always saying that our motto has become, “we do hard stuff,” and this weekend will be no different.  We knew going into this that it was not going to be easy and it hasn’t been.  It has, however, been worth it. It has given us an experience that we’ve longed for, for so long.  We are parents, and we’re not half bad at it. 

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.