January 9

 

Today was Aaron’s first day back at school since Mara died. I was excited for him to get back in his routine and back with his friends, but I knew I would miss having him around. Everyone at Aaron’s was so wonderfully warm and supportive and I knew that he would be watched over carefully. He got right into talking and catching up about Christmas with his friends as if he had just seen them the day before. I was worried about what I would say if any of the students in his class asked me about the baby, because they had seen me pregnant every day and there were lots of kids who rubbed and hugged my belly on a daily basis and asked about the baby. I wanted to make sure that if their teacher had a way of explaining it to them that I had a chance to hear that and support it in case any of the kids asked me, but none of them did. I walked back home, grateful for the cold air on my face, but sharply feeling one of many coming aches as I thought about how I had been planning to make those walks back forth to Minnieland with a baby in a front pack. Instead of heading home to a day of baby bliss, I was walking home alone. I thought about that walk off and on all day and how I wished so hard to be making that walk with Mara…harder than I had ever wished for anything. I imagined that I would have lots of those days ahead, as we would keep realizing all the ways we were missing her. Now as I write this post eight months later, that was exactly what happened.

My parents talked to me about how sad they were to be leaving the next day and how hard it is to live so far away, especially during a difficult time like this. I read a little about Grandparent Grief, it's called "double grief" because you are grieving for your grandchild but also for the pain your child is experiencing that you have no power to ease.

I wrote one of many long journal entries on January 8, and like many from those days, it was addressed to Mara like a letter. I reflected on all the people who couldn’t wait to meet her and welcome her into their hearts, and the fact that now all of those people were grieving in different ways. Some people wanted to use her name and talk about her in a loving way, and some people didn’t want to talk about her at all. But even so, she was already loved by so many people, and I felt that the love others were ready to give to her was being transferred to us to help us through this horrible time.

January 8, and a note

Before continuing, I want to make a note about the blog. I started this as a fun and easy way to share some of our daily happenings with far-away friends and family, and I also got into P365 photos and scrapping. Daily ANYTHING is hard to keep up with…and even though watching us it may seem like our daily lives haven’t changed much, life has been completely altered. I started keeping an online journal so I could keep record of my grieving, and I’m so glad I did. At the same, I took far fewer pictures than any time since Aaron was born. Part of this is related to just feeling quiet and thoughtful and somewhat withdrawn, and part of it is related to how nice it feels to set down the camera sometimes and just experience something. In the past, I have made posts to reckon for every day of the year, noting the days when I had no photos. That has started to feel a bit silly to me, so I’m just going to post pictures for the days that I have them. You will see lots of huge gaps. But I would rather post what I have than stop this completely, and now that I’ve gotten over the hurdle of yesterday’s post, I’m excited to move forward with it.

*Much content from the months January-June is drawn from the journal I kept during that time and so truly reflects how I was feeling at those times.

 

I noticed today and yesterday how Aaron seems to have grown up so much in the past week or so. Maybe just a trick of the eyes or a trick of the heart, more likely, but it seems awfully noticeable to me. Just when babyhood is something I want the most, Aaron seems to be getting further away from it.

I sent out an email to the family today telling them about our morning in the mountains, and offering to send pictures to those who wanted to see them. I heard back from from everybody very quickly and I sent pictures out to everybody. It means so so much to me that my family is so willing to accept Mara as a part of their lives even though she’s not here. Auntie Kathy even said she was going to print the pictures of Mara and scrap them and I was so so happy to hear that. I think it will be a while before I can scrap the pictures of Mara herself, but I hope to be able to soon.

Elsewhere in the household, Ashley did a lot of moving to her new place today, with the help of everyone in the house. I am also looking forward to Aaron going back to school tomorrow. Taking him will be hard, and I know I will miss him sorely in my fragile state, but I know it's the next step that we all need.

January 7-Mara’s morning in the mountains

**this happened in January, I wrote the post in April during Spring Break, and now I’m finally posting it in August. It took a long time to want to sit down and write about it, and after I did I was completely drained and felt like I had to stay away from it for a while. Yesterday was our eighth wedding anniversary, it’s a special week, I’m feeling good. I’m ready.**

We got up the morning of the 7th and showered and got ready. I brought two dresses to choose from with plenty of things to layer under and over them. Chris was a little surprised to see that I had brought dresses. When I was packing, I knew that we would be taking a lot of pictures, and this was the closest thing that my daughter was going to have to a funeral or a service…and I wanted it to be special in every way. So I wore a purple dress, and did my hair, and put on jewelry.
The night before, I told Chris that I was very afraid about opening the box that held Mara’s ashes. I didn’t know what they would look like, or if there would be recognizable pieces of bone in with the ashes. Would some be stuck to the underside lid of the box because of static? If so, would some of them drift out on their own? How did the box even open? Were they sloshing around in the box? What if I opened it wrong and some of them spilled? I was afraid that we would get up there in the windy mountains, and I would open that box for the first time and be completely freaked out by what the ashes looked like. I didn’t want to cause something bad to happen to the ashes out of shock or revulsion and then not be able to do what we had planned. I had sat up in that small dark hotel room while Chris slept and kept looking over at that box, and I doubted myself and our decision. Did I really want to let those ashes go? It was her body, and we had have so little of her, and maybe we shouldn’t let it go. Maybe I just couldn’t. I know I have said this before, but…my baby’s body was in a box. It’s incomprehensible. Chris said that he would open the box and look inside at the ashes and tell me what they were like so I wouldn’t be shocked. He did that this morning. Of course he did. He can always do the hardest things with so much calm and strength. It turned out that inside the box, the ashes were in a plastic bag that also contained a certification of identity that we and the funeral home had signed.
We went downstairs for breakfast. It wasn’t any good, but we didn’t have any appetite anyway. We drove from Luray to the Thornton Gap entrance to Skyline Drive. Our plan was to head south and check out some of the overlooks I had researched. We stopped at Mary's Rock Tunnel Overlook, Hazel Mountain Overlook, and then Pinnacles Overlook. We loved Pinnacles, because it had everything we were looking for. There were two more overlooks to the south we wanted to check just in case, Jewell Hollow and Hemlock Springs. They were pretty, but we really loved Pinnacles, so we turned around and headed back north to just south of mile marker 35, to the Pinnacles Overlook. We saw lots of deer on the way and enjoyed the beauty of the mountains so much during our drive.
We wanted a spot that had plenty of space for us to walk down from the other side of the barrier wall and away from the road, as per regulations, and then a steep slope down to a sweeping view. Pinnacles Overlook had all of that, with an incredible view. It also had just the wind we needed to carry Mara’s ashes up and out over the beautiful valley so that she could be a part of the sky.

We talked a lot about the pictures we wanted to take of our special time in mountains with Mara. I was so grateful that Chris felt the same way I did about taking pictures. I had some distinct and gorgeous images in my mind of Chris and I with our arms outstretched with the wind carrying Mara’s ashes up and away, and I wanted very much to capture those so we could keep them. I knew that setting up the camera and tripod and releasing Mara’s ashes a little at a time so we could take pictures would seem awkward and staged, but we have learned through our experiences that you have GOT to take the pictures when you can. No matter how strange or creepy or morbid it seems then, it must be done. Even if we didn’t want to look at them for years, or ever, we would at least have them. But if you don’t take them, you will never have them. Chris and I were of the same mind as we prepared for the specific photographs we wanted. We took our time.
First, it was my turn to lift some of Mara’s ashes up into the air. Chris held onto me as we opened the container. We had opened the bag while we were still in the car so the wind would not swirl the ashes around before we were ready. Once we opened the container outside, the ashes began to swirl immediately. We both started to cry. Chris stood back at the camera and when it was time, I could barely make myself lift my arms. It was the hardest, most painful thing I have ever had to make myself do. The first time I did it, the wind shifted and blew some of the ashes back towards me, as I had been scared of, and I just couldn’t make myself continue. I lowered my arms and my head and Chris came over to stand with me. We stood together for a few minutes and waited for the wind to change. This is when we took the pictures of us standing together looking out over the valley. When I looked at the pictures Chris took of my first try, I could see that I hadn’t lifted my arms high enough, so the ashes couldn’t come out of the container to be carried by the wind. I tried it again, and although it was still hard, I reached high above my head and saw the wind carry the ashes up and away. I felt immediately relieved.
When it was Chris’ turn, he was able to do what I had not, send Mara’s ashes flying far up into the sky, weightless and part of the wind. It actually took my breath away to see the ashes in the air being carried away, and I got amazing photos of Chris during that brave, painful, beautiful scene that was over in an instant. Chris stood there for a minute alone and then came back to where I was. We quickly packed up the camera and tripod in the car and then went back to sit together and look out over the valley for a long while. Other cars pulled up, people got out and took pictures, and we just stayed and looked and held onto each other. We let the rest of her ashes go when we were alone again. We talked about how beautiful the place was, and that even in cold January. After all the ashes were gone and we sat and sat, we both noticed that the wind got warmer. The sun was shining on us, the wind was warm, and we felt like Mara was with us and like we had done the right thing. We talked to Mara, we talked to each other, and after a while, we walked around a bit to take some pictures of the sign marking the overlook. Then we got back in the car to keep driving north out of the park and back towards home.
As we drove, Chris talked a lot of about how much he wanted to come back to the mountains often with our family to do fun things and visit Pinnacles. We planned on getting an annual pass and coming back all throughout the year so we could see what Pinnacles looks like through all the different seasonal changes. We know it will be gorgeous throughout the year and it will be wonderful to see it grow and change every year. We would also love to start bringing Aaron for some camping and hiking. Someday, we will show this spot to Aaron and talk to him about how Mara got lifted up into the sky, just like he said it did the morning after she died. We talked about how we loved that the place we chose is a beautiful, living place, not a mournful, dead place. With every minute that passed and every mile we drove, we felt more and more peaceful about our decision. Nothing can ever make this easier, be we want to have happy lives and remember all the happiness that Mara brought us while we were together. We felt more settles as we drove back home and resolved to always remind ourselves of what that felt like when we had difficult times and to deeply invest in time spent with Aaron. I told Chris it was the best I had felt since Christmas Day. We enjoyed our drive home, chatting only off and on, and shortly after we got home I looked at the pictures we took. They are just incredible and we will always treasure them. Here is one precious photo that we want to share.



That evening after we got home, we prepared Dad’s birthday dinner, which was mostly Thanksgiving-ish, and enjoyed a great dinner and some birthday cake.

January 6-Driving to the mountains

Friday. Of Chris’ first week back at work. I had been really looking forward to him but have also been very anxious and full of sadness as this is the day we head up to the mountains to let Mara’s ashes go. Chris left school a little bit early so we could head out to to Shenandoah as early as possible. I did work around the house all day and did some packing and a lot of research about different locations that we might want to use. I felt sad all day knowing that in a way, this was going to be another goodbye. I also knew it was going to be hard for me to be away from Aaron during such a sad time.

During the drive out to Front Royal, the sun was in our eyes and it was a chilly and clear afternoon. We listened to music in the car and I cried several times.

We tried to go in the Front Royal entrance to the National Park, but it was closing too soon for us to make it to the next exit on Skyline Drive. So we took highway 340 down along the western edge of the mountains to Luray and found a Best Western where we stayed that night. I felt very very low and sad and just had no spirit in me at all. Chris tried to keep me smiling. We had a really delicious dinner at a nice little restaurant in a historic building in the very slow and sleepy town of Luray. We were very quiet through our dinner and while going back to our hotel room. We were planning to look at the map of Skyline Drive and talk about some of the overlook turnoffs and just rest together and give each other strength and support. But Chris was so exhausted from a trying week back at school and he fell asleep while I was learning how to use my new camera remote and looking at maps. He woke up to look at the maps with me a bit, we decided the route we were going to use in the morning, and then he was snoozing again.

I couldn’t fall asleep because I was feeling so emotional, so I stayed up until about 11 alternation between crying and reading Love, Mom, a book about a couple who had a stillborn baby girl. I finally got to sleep around 11, but I couldn’t sleep soundly. I tossed and turned all night, and kept waking up and seeing light out the hotel room window, afraid that I had overslept. We wanted to get an early start because we wanted to see a beautiful morning sun.

January 5

Tonight we got out of the house and did something fun. It was actually really nice. George was in town and wanted to have dinner, but he didn’t have enough time between the end of his meeting and his flight from Dulles, so we decided to go up to Tysons to have dinner with him, then take a walk around the mall and do a little bit of shopping. Just some time out, doing something that required not just a shower, but some nice clothing and even a bit of makeup. We had a lovely dinner, and George took this picture of me and Aaron with his phone. I was like…hey, that looks like me, feeling happy. I was relieved to see it, really. Aaron tried to keep his eyes open, but George’s phone flash was so bright he couldn’t hang. That’s the monkey hat Aaron got from his uncle George.

After dinner we drove across the way to the mall and I saw that I had a couple of new emails from people expressing their love and support. I read them to Chris as we were driving, and those emails, coupled with our pleasant night out, gave me a much-needed bolster. Just another time when I felt okay, maybe even good, and what I needed was more evidence that those days would be happening more often. We walked around the mall, bought Aaron some shirts in the Disney Store, and bought a new comforter and duvet cover for our room.

Another note about this photo…another example of the small ways your heart breaks every day. In November, I jumped on the Instagram train and put it on my phone. I bought it to take pictures of Mara. I wanted to have it ready for my baby’s arrival, and I imagined all the pictures I would take of her while we were home together. You can’t imagine how many photos I had staged in my mind that I would blissfully post with updates of every tiny baby movement and sound. After she was gone, I just kept seeing that icon on my phone. And it kept staring at me. And I remembered that I took an Instagram photo of Aaron just a couple of days before she died, and that I hadn’t opened it since. And I thought about all the pictures I wouldn’t be taking with it. And I just didn’t want to open it. But, I didn’t delete it, because that would go against my “don’t do anything dramatic out of grief that you will regret later”philosophy. And this picture is the first time I used Instagram after that. Such a stupid, small, thing. An app.

It used to be that seeing a picture of me and Aaron would give me a happy feeling of satisfaction and a parental glow. On this night, the picture was an anchor to reality. I didn’t get the same feeling of happiness from the picture that I would have before Mara died, and that scared me. It still scares me. But I keep looking at it. And even though it means something different than it meant before, it still means everything.

January 4

Here is Aaron playing with a Christmas gift…Do-A-Dot Art from the Raceks. I have NO idea what else went on. At least I got a picture.

January 3

Today was the day the Rothes went home to California, and the day Chris went back to work. Yikes that was a rough day. I was dreading Chris going back to work. First of all, he’s my rock, no better way to say it. As I have described before, I have been leaning heavily on him during my grieving. Not sure he’s really leaning on anybody as he’s not much of a leaner, but I do my very best to make sure he knows he can lean on me if he wants to. Also, I kinda had this sense that going back to work=moving on, and I didn’t want him to be on a different moving on path than me, more importantly, I didn’t want to feel like he was going to be “okay” sooner than I was while I continued to struggle. I absolutely knew for certain that I had no desire to go back at that point, but I knew I would miss him during the day, and I was starting to miss our friends and the good things about being at work.

So, because he had left for work around 6, as we usually do, he was not present for the Rothe goodbye, which was pretty much heartwrenching. Cameron didn’t want to leave and was very upset. It was especially sad when he said he wanted to say goodbye to Uncle Chris, who wasn’t home. Cameron said he didn’t want to fly back to California, he wanted to stay in Virginia, and all I can say is if you have ever heard Cameron’s tiny lilting voice and the way he draws out the last word in each sentence, you can imagine how sad this sounded coming from him while he was crying. Aaron also became very upset and didn’t want them to go. He cried and cried and cried and sat on the stairs and looked at me and said, “I’m very sad, Mommy.” My mom and dad took them to the airport, and after they all got in the car and drove away, Aaron and I stood in the garage waving, and Aaron just looked up at me with heartbreak all over his face. It was FREEZING, (as a matter of fact there were a few snow flurries that morning, the only snow during the whole winter break, which Kelly aptly categorized as a RIP-OFF) so we didn’t linger in the garage. We came upstairs, just the two of us home now, and got on the couch together and cried and held on to each other. Aaron was just so sad that his little buddy and Auntie and Uncle were leaving, and me, well, I was crying for all sorts of things. That’s just the way it is these days.

The only picture I took today was of these gorgeous flowers that I recently got from the lady who is substitute teaching for me during my absence. She is fantastic in every way, and she picked out PERFECT flowers. I loved the purple and orange together, and they lasted a really long time. I loved looking at them on my desk every day.