I've Been Waiting

(sorry there's a glitch and I can't get this to read in paragraph form) I haven’t posted my past few 'posts' which have been many in since last May. They came across angry. Very angry. Only I’m not an angry person and no matter how often I reread and tried to write in a non-furious tone, I had writers’ block. I wanted to elaborate exactly what Michael and I feel over losing our daughter, losing (and gaining) friends, growing our family and just carrying on. I posted it and removed it a half-dozen times. Last fall, I wrote a letter that was read aloud at the Kula For Karma annual gala which honored Dr. Michael Harris, Sylvie’s oncologist and one of the most incredible persons we have and will ever know. It's also an organization I identify with because my own yoga practice really grounded me and blossomed-- in yoga speak that would be "opening to grace" and "organic energy"-- right before Sylvie became ill and during her treatment when I'd sneak off into the Family Locker Room and unroll my yoga mat. We were supposed to attend the affair and I bought a sexy light blue low cut backless velvet dress to wear, in all my pregnant glory although I was not going to personally read the letter because I will not permit myself to be in situations that make me cry and feel badly about myself. My therapist calls that good judgement. Plus, it was joyous event and really, who wants to see a crying pregnant woman up at the podium? The October date was postponed after Hurricane Sandy and wouldn't you know it, the new date was November 29 which marks three year date of losing Sylvie (and Michael’s birthday of course). The Universe was saying, “Audra, Michael, you should not attend.” Truth be told, we had also already booked a trip to Mexico. And naturally, both of the boys came down with horrible colds Thanksgiving (nothing like a good old walk down memory lane of Sylvie's run of the mill cold three years prior) so we had to bump our trip anyway. March 5, 2013: The moment Ellery was being delivered, I turned my head to Michael and said, “We’ve waited a lifetime for this!” I was overcome with a pure joy in my heart greater than you can ever imagine. It literally drowned out sound. It was like the vast universe opened and presented us with a baby girl. I had spent three months deliberating over my Baby Quattro Playlist that in hindsight, I’m not exactly which song was playing. I vividly remember Patty Griffin’s “Oh Heavenly Day” playing when Spencer & Ryan were delivered. In the early hours and during my panic attack when it was just me, the anesthesiologist and delivery room nurse hanging out in the c-section surgery/delivery room I thought to myself, “Self, ‘Long December’ by Counting Crows and ‘Heart of Gold’ by Neil Young may be incredible songs but they are not making me feel calm right now!” While deliberating over the time taken for the spinal block to take effect, time taken for Dr. Dicker and Michael to talk about Momofuku’s fried chicken and Pete Luger’s steak, time taken for Dr. Dicker to reassure me that he had stuck me with a sharp object to which I didn’t scream unto which he said, “LET’S HAVE A BABY!” I have since concluded that when Ellery and I met for the very first time, either “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac or “I’ve Been Waiting” by Matthew Sweet was playing. BABY QUATTRO PLAYLIST La Cienega Just Smiled/ Ryan Adams Fade Into You/ Mazzy Star A Long December/ Counting Crows Tiny Dancer/ Ben Folds Heart of Gold/ Neil Young The Long Way Around/ Dixie Chicks She Goes On/ Crowded House Landslide/ Fleetwood Mac I’ve Been Waiting/ Matthew Sweet Under The Milky Way/ Kill Hannah This Woman’s Work/ Kate Bush You Are My Sunshine/ Elizabeth Mitchell Born Into a Light/ Ryan Adams & the Cardinals Soul Meets Body/ Death Cab For Cutie Viva la Vida/ Coldplay She Don’t Care About Time/ The Byrds Heavenly Day/ Patty Griffin Life is Beautiful/ Ryan Adams & the Cardinals Lullaby/ Shawn Mullins Every night we sing "Trouble," the Inara George version of her dad/Little Feat's song. I don't know why I love it SO much. And the Dixie Chicks "Lullaby" which I also love except it's five minutes long. I got an iPhone in January. I often take photographs of Sylvie’s headstone when I visit the cemetery. I made sure the nice guys at the AT&T store could transfer and save my images from my Blackberry. Unfortunately all the ‘notes’ were forever lost. I couldn’t explain to them why I was apoplectic over this. My Sylvie alphabet. The list of things we selected for Sylvie to take with her, our own Cleopatra. I'm glad I take those pictures because we had planted a little tree next to Sylvie's headstone which many of our friends and Sylvie's friends had decorated with "Sylvie" things. The cemetery clearly received a complaint so we had to remove it. Michael went ballistic. The letter upset me more than the act of removing the tree. Technically we own the real estate but who knew cemeteries have rules like condo boards!? I am NOT sorry some other family has the misfortune of burying their loved one adjacent to a CHILD. That is the harsh reality of life. Children die, too. Having another baby, a baby girl, is is as close to full circle as Michael and my life can ever be. Sylvie, Spencer, Ryan & Ellery. I feel fortunate that we were young enough to have three amazing children after enduring the disastrous tragedy of losing Sylvie. It makes us better and worse parents at the same time. Michael and I are yin and yang. I balance his craziness whenever he freaks out over Spencer and Ryan being sick, falling, or getting a mosquito bite which means that I’m the one that calls Dr. Rosen at 11 pm usually on a holiday and in turn, Michael comforts me when he sees me crying for no reason. A month before my due date, our prized Lucky dog was diagnosed with the most rare and fatal cancer a dog could get. What are the chances… same chemo drugs as little girls... I told our vet and also the veterinary oncologist that Lucky MUST be waiting at home for me, tail wagging, when I brought a baby girl home from the hospital on March 9th. Lucky has literally grieved with us, this I know to be true. You, me, Lucky-- our souls all come from the same place. You and me-- we're lucky that we're human beings. Lucky, well, she's just a dog but the same inside. I just read the Yoga Sutras so forgive my yogi speak! Dr. Al-Saroff, the oncologist, cried. But Lucky rallied! She defied the odds and despite a 25% success rate and a success rate that never exceeds beyond 100 days, Lucky is at my feet right now. And when she’s not at my feet, she’s guarding Ellery. Two days after Lucky was diagnosed and out of nowhere, which sounds strange when you’re talking about a twenty year old cat, OJ became ill and had to be put to sleep. OJ and Lucky have shared so many of our life experiences that it’s hard to imagine not having them here. Funny story, kind of: I told my mom that we had OJ cremated. She wondered what my niece, one of OJ’s BIGGEST fans, would think. She suggested telling her that OJ’s ashes are with Sylvie and I was like, “NO WAY! What if Megan goes to school and says, ‘My aunt and uncle burned their cat!’ “ Reluctantly, she agreed. My due date was the day before my 41st birthday and if I had the time to count the exact number of days pregnant, I would swear the Fates were trying for me to have a baby on my birthday. Just like they decided Sylvie should leave us on Michael’s. For the first day or so, Ellery looked exactly like Spencer. She’s since settled in to looking EXACTLY like Sylvie. I mean, EXACTLY. You can call me crazy and I would not disagree but I can’t help but think that Ellery is a very special present from Sylvie and the Universe. When I look down at her little head nestled against my chest, I can't help but think that she is a bandage covering a hole in my heart. Spencer & Ryan know they have a big sister. They carry her framed pictures around the house. I have a mental block that has prevented me from displaying any other photographs other than hers. I keep telling myself that once Spencer & Ryan are 2.8 years old, the same age as Sylvie when she ‘became’ sick, all of a sudden I’ll be able to move forward a little. I have a neat stack of birthday newspapers, hospital bracelets, baby announcements, and holiday cards for all of our children ready to go into scrapbooks. I even found the red leather journal which I wrote letters to Sylvie when she was a baby. I had left it in Blue Car for years and it since moved to my night table only I never opened it. Michael has notebooks like that all over the house. Sometimes I peek inside. I only recently read that he liked listening to Sylvie and I talk at bedtime, from outside the room, about the days’ warm fuzzies and dim gloomies. I plan on incorporating that into Spencer & Ryan’s bedtime when they stop beating the crap out of each other before crashing into one another’s bed before falling asleep. I was ordering window treatments for Ellery’s bedroom in Vermont and the designer had to reassure me that when she was older, she’ll love them, since I don’t know what it’s like to have a non-toddler daughter. I had to reassure myself that Ellery would be a young woman with these freakin’ window treatments and that we’ll have the joy of watching her (and Spencer & Ryan) grow up. Not all children get cancer, get better and then die before their fourth birthdays. It makes me nervous just typing that because I know what it’s like to defy the odds. Ellery’s middle name is Mae. As in the month Sylvie was born. May 12 to be exact. Mother’s Day.