In some ways it worked out better. There were opportunities that may have not been available had I not been available because I would have been busy with motherhood. Growth. Chance to rekindle my relationship with my career. With myself. Made a few new friends. Stregthened my bonds with my husband. Reevaluated some familial relationships. Let some things go. Let some people go.
Kyle.
Sometimes no matter how hard you work on a certain path – the choice isn’t really your own. An entirely different path is determined for you. Fight it and struggle or embrace the road and make it your own.
I’m sure I sound cliche – but – in times like this – I realize that life is so much bigger than me!

I’m kind of lumpy. Meaning, flesh and bone and other bodily things have shifted around – been rearranged - but overall I look and feel pretty good. Wearing size 4 pants again is nice.

The lights are back on upstairs. I see colors properly. Genuinely smile. Laugh. Enjoy. Am able to reflect but not feel overwhelmed in sadness or grief.

Today.

And I think – pretty regularly, Let’s have another.

Baby.

Baby Boy Bunsey is getting SOOOOOOOOOO BIG. He’ll be a year soon. Less than 2 months away.  

It would be wonderful to do it again.

Maybe my postpartum depression won’t be so awful the next time and I can enjoy it a little more fully.

Maybe I won’t be totally wacko during pregnancy next time.

It is, after all, so amazingly wonderful and awesome and overwhelmingly beautiful and fantastic.

He is wonderful.

I can do it again.

My body can do it again.

Can my darling husband?

That was random.

Maybe it was around the weekend that I lost my Fiona necklace in the harbor. Doug, Kyle and I were swimming one evening – as I adjusted the hammered silver medallion, the little silver loop that held it on the chain broke open and the whole piece came off. I tried to grab it as it glimmered its way down to the harbor floor beneath. But no. Not fast enough. I didn’t dive or try to look below the water’s surface to find it. I didn’t panic. I don’t know if I even really tried all that hard to catch it. When I we came out of the lake onto the dock, I unhooked the chain and cast it into the water.

Something inside of me changed again. Maybe I was practicing some more “Letting Go.” Maybe I figured it was time to stop clinging onto it.  

Doug just put Kyle to bed tonight. Baby cried for about 10 minutes on his way to Sleepytown. I washed vegetables in the kitchen and prepared our lunches. I’m grateful my husband is the conductor of the Sleepytown Train. It reminds me of when I used to put Kyle to bed – he’d fall asleep nursing in my arms as I rocked him in our glider. I’d hold him for a half hour or so after he was asleep, cuddling him on my chest, feeling his breath, listening to his sounds, smelling him, caressing his back and head. Kissing his cheeks. Very gently running my index finger along his soft, tiny little lips. He was so incredible. 

I cried every single night for several weeks as I held my sleeping baby. Maybe months. As I’d carry him to his room, I’d hold him a little closer. Kissing him one last time, before whispering to him, “I love you. Please don’t die tonight. I love you.” I’d delicately place him in his crib. Holding the railing, looking, wishing I’d held him just a few minutes longer.

Postpartum Depression was rough on me. It, like my grief, had several shades and hues and different manifestations – mixed in with the lingering grief and anger - sometimes I still wonder how I got out of bed every day and functioned at all!

It was so hard. I really, actually, honestly thought I would feel like that forever. I just sort of resigned myself to that as my new normal.

It is better now. Maybe my hormones have settled. Maybe I’ve ”Let Go” some more. Maybe just watching baby grow and change and thrive over the past 10 months helps.

Honestly, I let him eat food off the floor now. There was a time that just the thought of letting other people come into our house and share our air would send me into a germaphobia panic attack.

We’ve come a long way baby!

Baptism class
Passing the school levy
Kyle rolls both ways and is super cute about it!
Baby laughs
Baby kisses
Scooting backwards
Beautiful weather
Baby birds in the nest outside my window

• Doug & Kyle
• Friends
• Lactation Mary
• Clean towels
• Beautiful weather
• Garden box w/ fresh herbs
• NPR, PBS, Discovery Channel
• Closets to store all my stuff
• High speed Internet
• Health, sleep, food, coffee, Kashi bars
• Kitties
• Backyard birds
• Digital camera
• Lavender lotion
• Neosporin

I’m ready.

I am not ready.

Sometimes I wish I were more like a kitty. They seem to have no problems sleeping. It seems what they do best. About 10 minutes ago my deaf kitty walked on the dresser, turned on the alarm clock radio which blared NPR next to my head and my other kitty who also is directly next to the radio didn’t flinch or budge even with the addition of my grumbling and swearing. I rolled myself out and off my husband’s side of the bed, continued to grumble swears under my breath, turned on a light as not to trip over clothes, slippers, books and other things that don’t belong on the bedroom floor, waddled over to the alarm clock and slammed my fingers down on several buttons. 2 years later and I’m still unsure how the thing actually functions. I remove the deaf kitty from the nightstand, pat her bottom, waddle back to husband’s side of the bed, rearrange pillows, and attempt to gracefully enter sheets and covers – sleeping kitty turns head further into himself, moves paw over face and blissfully continues sleeping.

Self centered? Simple? Carefree?

I tend to think part of cats are Zen Meditation Masters who are capable of shutting out the noises and distractions of the world, including their own internal distractions to completely absorb themselves in rest, sleep, contemplation and peaceful silence.

I suppose this is easier done when your brain is less than the size of a walnut. How complex and distracting of thought can you really get into with a walnut brain?

Aside from my physical discomfort and at times even physical pain – my mind is a mess right now. I am so ready for this baby to get out here and be in my arms – in my sight – on my breast. I’m terrified of “inducing” him to come out on Wednesday starting at 7 a.m.

C’mon baby – let’s get going and do this on your terms. You’re ready! I’m ready! Start your progression down and out into the world today or tomorrow before doctor has her way with you. You can do it! It will be much better if you’re in charge of your grand entrance. Trust mommy.

And mommy will happily sleep again – at least for a few hours after you safely get out here – daddy will stay awake with you. And you guys can get to know each other.

Of course I’m awake. I’m 38.5 weeks pregnant and haven’t slept in a month. Does that mean I want to get out of bed for the phone at 9:00 a.m. on Saturday? I wish I were sleeping, blissfully unaware of anything other than my fanciful dreams.

Sleeping I am not.

I could tell by his voice that he needed and wanted called back right away. I untangled myself from covers and pillows, rolled my sore body out of bed, waddled to the living room, found a phone and plopped down on the chase next to a cat.

He answers and I ask, How things are going and what’s up? Right away he says, “Can we take a little pumpkin and put it on FB’s gravestone later today?”

Of course we can. Absolutely.

I ask him, Did something trigger this or what happened or … ??? and he says, “I was just thinking about carving pumpkins today and wishing she were her to see them. I’m just sad.”

Makes sense.

He’s different from me, though, and doesn’t always share emotional things freely  – a man thing -  still though, I remain  curious as to what his sad looks like – so this little opportunity in is accepted no matter what else is going on. I know my grief and how it is triggered or how it surprises me and how it feels for me, and often I tell him about it. The depth, colors and experience of this grief for him – sometimes – still – remains a mystery to me. And the only way, really, to get to know his grief is to quietly wait for him to share. It can at times be difficult for me, especially when I’m feeling very lonely in my grief and needing not to be the only one who still thinks about and feels the loss of her, but I’m getting better at allowing rather than pulling – something marriage teaches me every day.

So I asked further, Is it because we’re going to have this baby any day now and he replies, “I want them both. I’m just being greedy.”

Me too.

I tell him, We’re not often greedy so I think in this case we’re allowed to be a little greedy in wanting to have both of our children alive and well – here with us – together.

And he agrees.

I decided yesterday that each year for Christmas I’m going to buy FB a gift, however, that my gift to her would actually be a gift to someone else in the world. This year I’m starting with Heifer International. I’m thinking about sending a family a flock of chicks (eggs for protein) in FB’s name.

Heifer International Gift Catalog.