Carly

Please go here to watch a short video about my amazing friend Carly. If the world were filled with more Carlys, it would be a much more beautiful place.

Pools, Lakes and Rivers

In the beginning, my heart was drowning in a deep pool of sadness and grief. There were no steps, no way out other than to hoist my heart up and throw myself onto the side. But I didn’t have the strength for this, so I continued to drown. The constant tears kept the pool filled and depleted me of any energy necessary to escape.

The next shape of my grief was more like a lake, with graduated, sloping exits. Like the pool, the tears kept it filled, but when there were tear-free days, it was easier to muster up a little bit of strength for my heart to climb out from time to time.

The current state of my grief seems to be more river-like. Many small rivers running deeply through my heart, that swell when the tears come quickly, but recede a bit when things feel okay. When there’s a downpour, they rise and crest and flood the rest of my system. There’s a river for thinking what Cayden would be doing if he were home with us right now. There’s a river that’s often overflowing, of Cayden’s last day with us. And many more. They’re not as all consuming, the rivers, as the pool and the lake, and I’m fascinated and surprised by this shift. The idea of rivers seems more manageable to me, I think I’m less likely to drown in rivers that ebb and flow and have branches and rocks and things to grab hold of, than in a deep pool with no easy way out.

As different as they are, these three have something in common, though--the people. The people who threw a buoy, held out a branch, and mostly those who jumped right in to either hold us up when we couldn’t even tread water, those who swam with us. People who didn’t care about getting wet and cold and uncomfortable, and helped us from slipping underwater, from drowning. You are, and continue to be, our lifesavers, in every sense of the word.

three months from goodbye

It's raining here in San Francisco. Makes me feel like Mother Earth is a kindred spirit, missing Cayden today as much as I am.

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!