Incompetence

Let's discuss how cruel it is to require a bereaved mother to call the billing department of a hospital to explain that the reason her son doesn't appear on the insurance anymore is because he died two weeks after he was born, but yes, he was on our insurance and so far everything submitted has been covered. Then let's analyze the idea of spending another 20 minutes on the phone with aforementioned billing department, arguing about whether her son is "eligible" for services already provided by a pediatric cardiologist and a pediatric neurologist during his short life. And just for kicks, let's further ponder that the insurance company may reject the claim submitted for the genetic testing currently underway in Germany, despite the fact that the cost of testing is .02 percent of all costs associated with Cayden's care. 02 percent is a big number, though, it's just that a two-week NICU stay and numerous specialists are an enormous number, so it's relative.

Talk amongst yourselves

But you know what? At least we have insurance to cover this. And the billing lady actually said, "I'm sorry" which is more than a lot of people have done. Sigh.

A Visitor?

Last Sunday, in the midst of a San Francisco heatwave, Scott and I were sitting on our roofdeck. Don't get any beautiful pictures in your mind of a fancy urban roofdeck, it's not. It's basically a roof with a few chairs and two chaises. But when it's warm, it's a perfect place to soak up some healing because the tar-like ground attracts the sun. Let me also say that we live smack in the middle of the city, with Highway 80 running right across the street, and very little green within a four block radius. So imagine my surprise when I noticed, perched on my left foot, a ladybug. I have never, ever seen a ladybug in San Francisco, much less on my dirty, city roofdeck. And so I thought, "Could it be?"

3 Months

Dear Cayden,

Happy 3 Month Birthday, sweet boy! Pinky swear we love you forever and always. We miss you little one.

Love,
Mama and Daddy

Cayden's Name in the Sand on Christian's Beach

Carly Dudley is an incredible, inspirational woman who lives in Western Australia. Her sweet baby Christian was born sleeping and in his memory, Carly writes the names of babies and children who have died in the sand of Christian's beach, and photographs the names for parents. Please read more about Carly and her family's amazing work here

We are deeply grateful to Carly for taking beautiful photos of Cayden's name in the sand. Thank you Carly, so much. You are amazing.

Really?

Dear Makers of Enfamil,

While I'd like to "Nourish the dreams I have" it's a bit difficult at the moment, since my dreams turned into nightmares on January 30 when I said goodbye to my sweet baby boy as he lay in my arms. I guess you didn't get the memo.

Sincerely,
Paige

PS-You misspelled my last name. And please take me off your evil list.

Saturday

Here's a picture for Saturday. No words today. Just sad that we're not huddled over Cayden at home, worried that he's too hot, too cold, too tired, too hungry, like parents of a new baby should be. Sigh.

We did get a variation of huddling, though, grateful for that.

9-5

So, today was my first day back at work. Not much to report. It wasn't terrible, felt pretty okay, actually. Lots of support from those closest to me, no real acknowledgement that anything had happened from everyone else. Amazing V is dealing with all of my paperwork to straighten out the past two months, so I don't have to explain the whole story, which is incredibly helpful. Today was a big milestone. I survived it, which is good enough for me.

Oh, and Scott says I need to post more pictures. So here's one of my little monkey--notice that his arm is in a rare, relaxed position, almost straight!

What She Said

Aliza did a beautiful job right here of saying exactly how I feel.

Support of Jumbo Proportions

Ms. Shrink today said something very obvious, but something I needed to hear. Basically, that people's actions, or inaction, aren't necessarily what they're feeling. Meaning that those we haven't heard from, at all, might very well be sad for us, and that I shouldn't automatically conclude that their inability to be outwardly supportive means they're not.

True. But it got me thinking about the people in our lives who have been amazingly supportive, from the second Cayden was born. This is what I'm focusing on, and it feels amazing. In 'An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination', the author talks about needing everyone in a disaster. And it's true. You need everyone around you when the worst possible thing happens.

We've had friends cry alongside us. We've received the most beautiful cards anyone could hope (not) to receive. We've had meals delivered. Our phones have rung often and always at the right times. We've had visitors from near and far, and I mean 10 hour, two connecting flights far. We've heard from junior high classmates through grad school, from family, from neighbors, from friends of relatives, from colleagues, former colleagues, new friends, and so many more. We have one amazing, incredible (insert any similar word and it fits here) friend who literally J.umped off a bus to be with us the night Cayden was born, and any night since that we've needed her. This crappy, horrible twist of fate I would wish on no one has made me realize that we are surrounded by a support system that I would wish for anyone.

Ooh Child

One morning a few weeks ago as I was cleaning to XM radio via Directv, the song "Ooh Child" came on. It was a version I hadn't heard before, and I was completely captivated. I immediately went to see who was singing it (Beth Orton, a live version is at www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQvHc2M-2g0) and proceeded to dowload it from itunes that afternoon. I listen to it quite often and most of the time, it fits me perfectly. It's a melancholy song, yet the lyrics are hopeful. It captures the hope that I want to feel, even on days I don't, and acknowledges my deep sadness at the same time. Sometimes I can't listen to the lyrics, and try only to feel the music, times when I feel like things won't get easier or brighter, and I decide it's a bunch of bullshit. But I can't bear to ignore the lyrics either, because I can't stand the thought of things not getting easier. I guess part of me is hoping that the song's optimism will rub off on me if I listen to it enough, much in the way people use positive affirmations. And maybe at some point I'll progress to the Five Stairsteps or the Hall and Oates versions of the song. But not yet, definitely not yet.