Friday, December 18, 2015

My Christmas Baby and a(nother) Hospital Visit

One year ago today was Lydie's due date.  December 18th.  My Christmas baby.

It's just her due date, not the day she died, not even the day she would have been born.  If she had lived, it would be passing us by unnoticed today.

But when it feels like you're left with nothing, when the new normal feels like the old normal with a big fucking hole in the middle of it, these milestones and dates become so much more significant.

If it's even possible, I'm missing my girl more than usual today.



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Last night, I was feeding a fussy Josephine, who had just had her two-month vaccinations.  It had been tough to watch her get her first shots, wailing each time.  It was tough to know her fussy evening was a result of her not feeling well; it was tough to not be able to soothe my usually calm baby.

Justin and Ben were busy playing, a typical sight for an evening at our house.  And then I heard Ben's fall and his cries.  Also rather typical as Benjamin is pretty rough and tumble and usually bounces back after a hug and a kiss (and sometimes a bandaid).  And then I heard Justin's reaction and knew it wasn't typical afterall.

I rushed over to see a big gash on Ben's forehead, directly above his left eyebrow, and blood oozing everywhere.


This is similar to what happened this summer, when somehow his Aunt Laura (accidentally) nailed him in his face with a kayak on the beach at our cottage.  When I was pregnant with Bowie and terrified and this huge gash in my son's forehead played into all my fears and anxieties... and I was a complete mess.

This time I was more calm.  We all quickly piled in the car for the urgent care.  Checked in, and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Finally got called into triage and were told that yes, Ben needed stitches.  A nurse put numbing ointment and sent us back to the damn waiting room, where we waited and waited and waited.

Ben is planning to give his cee-cee to Santa.
Glad that hadn't happened yet.
Benjamin's name was finally called.  As a nurse held down his head, Justin held down his arms and torso, and I held down his legs, Ben screamed at the top of his lungs.  I cried too.  Four stitches in my boy's face was hard on this Mama's heart.

I know it's hard for any parent to see his or her child in pain.  But I think it feels even harder after losing one.

I just want to fix all their pains.  I want to fix Ben's pain, and Lydie's pain, and Josie's pain.  I don't want my kids to hurt.

During those hours of waiting, when I was feeding Josephine, Ben brought a book over to read to him.  And the first page took my breath away:

What I wouldn't give to hear my Lydia call, "Okay, Mom!"


I want to believe that Lydie is always with us.  I tell that to Ben and Josephine all the time.  But I have my doubts too.

Moments like that help convince me.

As Justin said, it wasn't Sarah or Jennifer or Elizabeth, all common girls' names.  It was Lydia.  Right there in the middle of the urgent care, with a gash in Ben's face.

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So now my badass two-year-old son has a scar on his forehead from his last set of stitches and a new set of stitches a quarter inch away.  Awesome.

This mama's heart could use a break.



3 comments:

  1. That was a sign from her for sure. I find sometimes I get one when I need it most - as you did then . Kim

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  2. What a nice wink when you needed it. xoxo

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  3. Just remember that all kids get bumps, bruises, and cuts. I know it is hard for you but that is just part of their growing up. As much as we would like, we cannot protect them from everything. The boo boos soon turn into war stories for the kids to tell.

    Donette Claar @ U.S. HealthWorks Sacramento - East

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