moving along...not moving on...

We've started packing to move to our new apartment. Back to Westfield. Beautiful, lively Westfield. THE place for young families. The town I lived in my bachelorette apartment for 7 years, kissing frog after frog after frog...but loving every minute of it. Then the town where we had our first great apartment, newly engaged. And then still the town we had our first child in. Noah's only home. We moved out of Westfield  as soon as we found another apartment- 8 weeks after Noah died. I still have trouble driving past the park. The Trader Joe's. The macaroni and cheese place. The "everything". But this happy and happily imperfect apartment fell at our feet and it just felt right. We're moving back to where I roamed the streets with my son. Where he made friends with everyone who passed his stroller. We he reached out his hand to every doggie we passed. And to every prettty little girl...The town where he once yelled up at the big clock attached to the side of a downtown building ..."COCK!" . He hadn't mastered the letter "L" yet.
So I was going through bookshelves and found spiral notebooks. I flip through the pages mostly finding random "to do" lists...but I just found something that threw me back in time. It was a formula schedule for a babysitter. Most likely Cousin Kayla since we really didn't leave him with anyone else. On the bottom of the page it says:

STUFF HE LIKES:
-TV
-eating his fist
-eating fabric
-the fan in his bedroom
-laying in his jungle
-staring at girls

It may me smile. It made me cry. I'm enbracing the fact that its easier to find a treasure like this than it would've been 6 months ago. But I guess it depends on the day-maybe even on the moment.

I used to love to sit at Barnes and Noble and read magazines...for hours. For a long time after Noah died, it all seemed so trivial. Not just the magazines-just everything. Last year for the annivesary of Noah's death ( all the parents in our club mark their days) we went to a place called Adamstown PA. It's subtitle is "The Antique Capitol of the World". I usually love all that but this was torturous. Surrounded by stuff...just stuff. I didn't care about stuff anymore. I hated stuff. Why was stuff still here and Noah wasn't? It's getting easier a bit. I'm making peace with the stuff that is here vs. my son who is not. The whole process seems to be in the stage called "meeting in the middle". My inner sad and my outer happy...I want my inner and outer to meet up for a cup of coffee, a cookie...maybe even share a turkey sandwich.

rechartered territory?

It hit me last night that I may get to be a mommy again. Someone's mother. A child may look at me and breathe a sigh of relief...know I'll provide a snack...know I'll read them a book...know I'll cuddle on the couch...know I'll sing that song that makes them giggle. I just remembered how Hal would do "this little piggy" with Noah over and over and over again. Noah would practically stick his foot in Hal's face as his way of saying "again?". I loved seeing them together.  I loved our Sunday's together. We'd start planning our Sunday activity on Wednesday! We loved being just the three of us so much. I'd pack his diaper bag with sooo many extra outfits and snacks and books and toys. I'd lay out his clothes... the outfits that made me laugh. He had a pair of blue and yellow striped pajama pants that I would put on him during the day. They were happy looking and matched his always happy face. He loved to try to put his own socks and shoes on. He knew how to bring me a diaper from his room. It was so exciting to see him start to understand words. I miss him. I miss being his mommy. And I miss being anyone's mommy. It has to happen again...

bubbling forth

So the literal translation of the hebrew word for 'prophet' means to "bubble forth". To spill over with water, cleansing, baptising, spreading truth and refreshing. Noah loved the bathtub. Sometimes 3 times a day we'd end up in the tub. "Do you want to go bubbles?" I'd ask. He'd turn like a soldier on one foot and run for the bathroom almost grunting "bubblebubblesbubbles!!!!!". He was fascinated by the water. He'd try to make it stop coming out-stopping and starting the faucet. I'd just watch, facinated by him, making sure he didn't turn it all the way to the left for HOT water.

Noah has left me "bubbling forth" like a prophet. I share what I feel and what truths I learn along the way. Sharing the dark thoughts with the revelations...

Pizza and tunafish...

Today is two years since my mother died. So in her memory, I splurged on what we called supper when we were little. Pizza always came with tunafish, preferably with iceberg lettuce leaves on the side. It was my job to make the tunafish while my father went to pick up the pizza from TwoTony's.

DAY OFF vs. OFF DAY

I have a really hard time on my days off, home alone. That's when I really feel him missing. Holding him in front of the over-the-stove mounted microwave, counting down the seconds together while his milk gets warmed. He'd get so excited when it went down into single digits, eyes wide and smiling while he learned numbers. He was getting so heavy.
I had my routine down, flipping on the Keurig, taking the knives and forks quietly out of the dishwasher while Noah was still distracted by Sesame Street. When he heard any clinking sounds, he'd come running in and he'd be in charge of taking all the spoons out. "Good job!" I'd say after every spoon. I loved that look of accomplishment on his face. I wanted hime to grow up as proud of himself as we were of him.
I pushed myself to write this little entry today...it's been too long. Thank you Marybeth.

Is it the progesterone or just me?

I am feeling very overwhelmed today. Overwhelmed with the possibility that we will never have another baby. That we will never be able to afford the costs of ivf, donor eggs, shared donor eggs, adoption...Scared that when we do finally have a child again, it will make us miss Noah even more. The fertility treatments are wreaking havic on my body physically and emotionally. I can't believe I've lasted as long as I have in this process. I have to stop googling "progesterone side effects", "lower abdominal pain, left side, 3 days post transfer",
I feel like there is a "special purpose" I'm supposed to be concentrating on ( not like Steve Martin in The Jerk and his special purpose) Our first big step in making good  come from tragedy is something called Noah's Ordinance. This all came about without us even knowing. And everytime I say that I realize it comes out like an excuse or a plea to my family "don't be mad at me for bringing any negative attention on you all". The NJ
 Child Fatality and Near Fatality Review Board meets once a month and reviews all events in NJ. They decide what could have been done to have prevented the accident. A new ordinance was passed regarding that the pool itself must be fenced in with entry only through one locking gate. We found out about this by chance...
We were at themple for Friday night services, as we try to go every week. We sat down in the sanctuary and realized in the program that there was a baby namimg that night. We'd been having a particularly hard day and decided this would be emotional torture that we just didn't need. On the way out we said goodbye to our Cantor (who lives in Springfield). She mentioned that she was planning on building a pool and when she went to get her permit, they informed her of the law change. The "case" that changed the law was only referred to as "the death of N.L.". We decided to come forward and have everyone know who N.L.was and to hopefully help prevent this from happening to another family. Believe me, I have a sense of embarassment, shame, whatever, that I let this happen to my baby. Of course no one ever thought this would happen. Of course I watched my child like a hawk. That is the part I want to scream!!! That people still say I was irresponsible. It's a hurt you can't imagine. Sometimes I think God gave us this cross to bear (even though we're Jewish) because there is a deeper purpose, etc. Other days, I don't believe any God would've cut short the life of such a child. When people would ask how Noah was, my answer was always "he's ridiculous" "he's amazing" 'he's beyond words". I was never going to be one of those mothers who complained about their kids.