Avery and Lily

I know I spend a lot of time talking about myself and Zoe and you may be wondering about how Avery and Lily are doing through all of this. I don't know exactly how they feel about Zoe's death or how their brains are processing her absence. I do know that they know who she is. We have photos of Zoe all over the house and our big beautiful canvas photo (courtesy of Stefanie Baldwin) of Zoe up in the playroom. We say good morning and good night to Zoe every single day. Lily always gives her a great big, open mouth sloppy kiss while Avery prefers to "pat" her.

When I'm alone with them I will sometimes just talk about Zoe. I'll remind them of the times they all played in the playroom together and stole eachother's paci's, or I'll remind them of our one public outing (that wasn't a doctors office or a hospital) as a family to the Christmas Tree Farm, or of their first Halloween together and how cute they were in their Disney princess costumes. I'll go on and on to try to ingrain in their memories these small snipets of time that they had with Zoe. I know they won't remember these times, but maybe, just maybe if they hear it often enough as they grow up we will have created memories for them to draw on when they start to wonder about their sister.

They always look at me while I talk and remain very still and quiet (not a common occurance these days). Lily and Avery have both pointed to the sky or the ceiling when I'm talking and uttered a little "uh?" To which I answer "Yes, your angel sister Zoe is in Heaven. She's watching over you." I don't know if doing this is harmful, I don't believe that it is. I believe we have to talk about Zoe, constantly, to keep her spirit alive. Just because she isn't here in the flesh does not make her any less a part of this family. I want her spirit to fill this house and fill our hearts. I want to feel her presence everywhere I go. I hope I'll get there soon...right now I still feel a lot of emptiness. It washes over me in waves, sometimes it's just a ripple and other times it's like a rip-tide that pulls at my heart and takes my breath away. And it's very unpredictable. I'll have a stretch of good days and then all of a sudden while doing the most mundane of tasks, I will be brought to my knees with sadness and longing.

I reached a very dark place not long ago...Richard was very worried and our grief counselors were as well. We had a very intense session that day, I was exhausted afterwards...but it helped. And I have had a good couple of days. We had a nice weekend - Richard and I actually got to be grown ups for 24 straight hours as we spent the night in Atlanta to see Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band. We then spent the rest of the weekend with the girls, just the four of us. It was nice...almost normal.

As for that dark place...I saw a psychiatrist this week who spent an hour asking me lots and lots of questions about myself, my experience before, during and after my pregnancy, and about my family mental health history. She assured me that I am not crazy, although I often feel like I am, and she said my meds need to be adjusted. So she's weaning me off Zoloft and putting me on something else that she thinks will work better. I hope it does. She also told me to lay off the wine...did you know that a glass of wine is only 5oz! I thought I was doing okay with my "glass" of wine with dinner, but then I realized I was having more than just one glass, because my wine glasses hold more than 5oz. She said I could have half a glass...but 2.5 oz? What's the point? I guess that is the point...there isn't supposed to be a "point" right? So I haven't had any since Monday night.

She also wants me to get individual counseling in addition to the grief work that Richard and I are doing together. She also reinforced, or tried to at least, that the girls' premature birth, NICU stay, and Zoe's death are not my fault. Logically I believe her, I believe Richard, I believe everyone that tells me this...but there is still that shred of myself that says "I am their mother, I grew them inside of me, I am SUPPOSED to protect them from all harm, evil, and sickness." I know it's not logical, I know this. I know you can't do anything to get preeclampsia and I know preeclampsia takes it's toll on your body. When you develop preeclampsia, you either have the babies or everyone (including mom) dies, there is no other choice, there is no other alternative, there is no therapy to prolong the pregnancy. We bought five more days than they thought we'd have the day I was admitted...I just wish it could have been longer. I will always wish it could have been longer.

I will always wish the girls did not have to be thrust into a world of bright lights, needles, tubes, poking, proding, all this trauma they experienced so early on, when they should have been nestled in comfort in the perfect world that is a mother's womb. I know these lights and needles and tubes saved their lives, I know these medicines and therapies were necessary...but I will always wish they could have been welcomed into the world by first being brought to my arms, my kiss, my touch. I suppose I'm still grieving for that "normal" pregnancy and childbirth experience as well. I think there is a lot that has been left undealt with, because we have just been trying to exist, make it through another day, and stay together, be a family.

Richard has been so incredible, I can't say enough and I know I have a lot to say that hasn't been said. But he has been the rock through all of this. Were it not for his recent insistance I think I would still be in that dark place I found myself a couple of weeks ago. I'm getting the help I need, the help I should have gotten over a year ago. As my psychiatrist says I have Depression that is compounded by Grief. This is not something to take lightly, I know this. And for the first time in a long time I do feel like the fog is lifting, not much, just a little...like I can now see my hand in front of my face. I can see just a little of what Richard has been seeing and living with for the last 18 months and I know it's not what I want. I don't want Avery and Lily to grow up with a Mommy who is sad, lethargic, doesn't care, can't get out of bed, doesn't want to eat....I have a responsibility to show them how to work through the hardest challenges in life with grace. It is so obvious to me how early your kids start learning from you, how acutely in tune they are to your every movement and expression. I can not and will not allow myself to let them down any longer. Avery and Lily deserve better than that. Zoe deserves better than that. With God's will, this vast community of support (you all) He has graced me with, and the unconditional love of Richard, Avery, Lily, and my extended family I will make it. Day by day, baby step by baby step.