I have been asked numerous times when I'm going to write about Lillian's birth story, and I'm writing this post to tell everyone, once and for all, I'm just not going to write about that. I know it's weird for a blog about infant loss to not speak about how the loss happened, but trust me when I say that I have my reasons. I know I don't owe a single person any explanation as to why I'm not going to do that, but I do want everyone to understand where I'm coming from. Hopefully this post will shed some light on why I'm choosing not to write about that portion of our story.
First, I want it understood where I've been emotionally since July 30th, as this is all part of my reasoning. When I got home from the hospital, I got into my pajamas, and I crawled into my bed. I slept for an entire day. The following month (August), I barely left my bedroom. People came over to bring us food and flowers and company, and I would drag myself to the living room, curl up on the couch, and sit there and answer questions about how I was feeling, or sometimes I would just stare into space while everyone around me talked to each other. It was hard for me to make eye contact with people, (not sure why), I tried to engage in conversation, I forced myself to but I wasn't really there. I was absolutely going through the motions. I was just a husk of myself, especially in the days leading up to and right after Aug. 9th, (the day we buried our baby).
The moment people left, I went right back to my bedroom, and I laid in my bed and I would stare at my ceiling, I'd sleep for hours and hours and hours, I'd wake up, I'd sob for hours and hours and hours and would pray for the daylight to go away. There was something protective about night time for me, and I felt most comfortable when I could feel the buzz of life begin to quiet down. I knew most people were in their beds sleeping, not thinking or worrying about me and my family, not wondering "oh my god what happened", not wondering how I would bounce back from this or if I ever would, not having conversations or speculating about my daughter. I could feel that energy. It's a hard thing to navigate through. Night time, I would wake up after sleeping all day, and I'd go sit in the living room with my mom and we'd stay up until sunrise watching movie after movie after movie. I was very thankful for those moments with my mother and my husband. Jason went back to work a lot sooner than I did, so he wasn't always able to stay up with us, but when he did, I felt better...never whole...but better because these were my people. These were the only people I felt comfortable totally falling apart in front of, and I did just that, many times. However, it was when the sun would rise that I would start to get a panicky feeling, and that buzz of life happening would creep up, louder and louder, and I'd go back to my bed, and hide.
There were times I would fall asleep, and in my partially sleeping and partially waking state, my hands would automatically go to my belly to check for Lily and when my hands didn't find a bump anymore, I would wake up startled and have to remind myself what happened. This went on for the first two months after the hospital. Probably one of the most awful things in this aftermath. I would fall asleep and I would forget what happened while I was asleep; so then those first few waking up minutes, were the most brutal few minutes ever because I would be flooded with "oh yeah, that really did happen." Then, my sleeping, sobbing, movie watching cycle would start all over again.
One day, I was laying in my bed, and I was laying on my left side, facing the rest of my bedroom, looking at the 8x11, folded card that my coworkers got and signed for me and Jason (they had a star named after Lillian). Her full name is on the front in huge script-writing, "Lillian Angeline Kerrigan-Leyh", it's hanging on my wall above my desk by a little clip magnet thing. The wall it's on was the wall that her bassinet was set up against before I went to the hospital to have her. The bassinet was long placed into storage before I even got home from the hospital. My family and friends removed all baby things and stored them for me. While I was in the hospital, they asked me if I wanted the stuff gone when I got home of if I wanted to see it to take care of things myself when I got home, my answer was that both options were equally as painful, and to make the choice for me.
I would stare at her name on that card on the wall, a name that I FREAKING love, and I would cry because it's quite literally one of the most perfect names I've ever been smart enough to come up with...and I'd cry because she couldn't use it and then the tears would turn to full on rage and I'd bury my face in my blankets and scream until my throat was raw. The cycles of sobbing and anger and numbness would leave me queasy. So, on this day, I was staring at her name on that card, and I focused on the curves of the letters, I counted the letters in her name (27), I fantasized about if she had grown up to be in the professional world, would she use Lily or Lillian? Probably Lillian. Or, rather, I'd have advised her to use Lillian for professional purposes. I imagined telling her why we gave her my last name and her dad's last name, and I imagined telling her that her parents are very progressive people and that it was a sign of the times. I smiled when I imagined her rolling her pretty (likely blue) eyes at my reasoning for that. I smiled. Omg, I smiled. Wait, why am I not sobbing? OH!! I'm smiling because I'm imagining her life. I'm thinking about living. I'm not focusing on her death. That was the day, (September 3rd), that I got out of bed and took a shower. I realized that by focusing in on my depression and my despair and my anger and my darkness - that kept me closer to Lillian's death, and that choosing to live life for the two of us, was keeping me closer to her life. So that was the day I showered. That was the day I ate something normal. That was the day that I made a choice.
The biggest thing that matters to me, is Lillian's life. Lillian only got 4 hours and 29 actual minutes of life outside of my belly, but to me, her mommy and her life source for the last 10 months that's what I cling to...and now, well...I had to make a decision and maybe it's because I'm in all of the therapy that I was able to get to this so specifically and solidly...whatever it is, I'm not questioning it very much because it's working.
You see, I don't get any of the firsts. I don't get first steps, or first tooth, or first words or first crush, or first prom, or..any of the things you prepare for through the life of your child. I had to accept that I now had to mother her in a very different way. My mothering of my daughter meant that I now had to live life for the both of us and if (by chance) there truly is something else after we die, and my baby girl can somehow look between the worlds and see me? Well, I'd rather die myself than to have her see me broken and sad and angry. I'd want her to look at her mommy between the worlds and see her laughing and putting one foot in front of the other, and living life and participating in its beauty. I'd want her to see me living life for the both of us, loving her father, caring for her family here on earth, saying her beautiful name every chance I can, never being afraid to talk about her and our family; and be a part of the buzz of life again.
So because Lillian's birthday was the same as the day she died, we have a choice. We can either celebrate that my gorgeous, perfect girl was here, by living life in her name, in her honor, for Lily; we can choose to show her happiness over grief when she checks in on us from between the worlds, or we can choose the darkness. Frankly, I want more for my daughter, so I will always choose the light and the fact of the matter is that she was here, she was born, I grew a damn good baby you guys! That's what gets me out of bed in the morning...HER! I don't need to talk about how she passed away, what I need to talk about is how she was here! She was here. I need to talk about how she affected us, (because I know it's not just me). This baby affected way way more people than just the woman typing out these words. It boggles my mind actually. To me, that is how we walk in the light with my Lillian Angeline Kerrigan-Leyh, and to me, that is her birth story.
I cried a lot in the beginning of my pregnancy. I didn't cry because I was sad that I was pregnant, (quite the contrary), I cried because I went through some major realizations about myself.
I realized that while yes, I was very successful in my career and in my pursuit of higher education, (and very proud of those things), I realized I was using both as a way to hide. I cried for the young girl I was in my 20's and the young woman I was in my 30's that believed so deeply that since it didn't appear as though she would be getting her happily ever after, she'd better come up with a back up plan. I decided that my happily ever after didn't "have" to include marriage or children. I didn't dare think about either or dream about either, (the way that the stereotype tells you we all do). For some of us, the "fairytale" is just so unbelievable that we abandon it in pursuit of other endeavors; and we create hiding places in those endeavors. I am not, by any means, saying that everyone does this, I am saying that it does happen sometimes, and I am saying that I absolutely created some comfy hiding places for myself.
Here I was newly pregnant, 41 years old, newly married, a new job that I loved...what in the hell did I do to land this jackpot, and why now?? After being one of the oldest in my friend's group, the oldest of three kids, the oldest girl in my extended family, and watching countless friends marry before me, (I had a been a bridesmaid 15 times before my own wedding), watching countless friends and family have children, I made myself "be okay" with the fact that while I didn't have those other things, (those things that I didn't dare wish for or dream about), that I had my job, I had my education, I was solid. However, in the deepest darkest places of myself, I admitted (softly) that I wanted more. It was a whisper at first and then after meeting Jason it was my first step toward admitting it to another person, from my mouth...out loud.
So as the weeks ticked by, and my belly began to grow, I often thought about the person I was before Jason and Lillian. I thought about how much I appreciated that pre-Jason and Lillian me. I thought about how proud I was of that me, but I also silently knew it was time to give her a warm hug and tell her she did well, and that it was time to let go and to move on. I knew change was coming and all of it was a good thing but it was very important to me to honor that pre-Jason & Lillian me because I didn't want to live with a longing for what once was once my daughter was in my arms (because she deserved much better than that) so I wanted to be careful of that and give it the honor it deserved. I had to get to work.
When we began telling people we were having a baby I heard a lot of the "just wait until..." (you can fill in that blank with "you'll never sleep again", "everything changes", "you'll never pee again by yourself", "say goodbye to regular bathing" and my favorite: "your life is over.") Your life is over. Wow. Well, what none of them knew was that I was always one step ahead of them. I was already to work on some things. People really don't think about some of the things they say to you when you start telling people you're pregnant for the first time. I often felt like saying "look who you're talking to", but I never did because that just seemed way too cocky and I'd rather not have that conversation with bunches of people who seemed to always know better than me...lots of people seemed to need to say these things to me, so I tried to have grace for them; and I tried to see their words for what they were, their own personal panic. I knew it wasn't mine. So, all of them were fine in my eyes. I wanted to hug them all and tell them they were probably right and that it would get better and that they were all doing an amazing job, (and to maybe go take a shower...alone). I just listed instead. I had some bigger fish of my own to fry.
I heard "your life is over" more than I can explain. So, fine then, let me think about that. My life is over. Then let's say goodbye to that life (that will be over) so that I don't resent my tiny baby once she's here. Let's pay homage to that life in a graceful, careful and appreciative way so that I don't sob constantly thinking that everything that I once knew is gone and life sucks and I'm terribly mean to my husband everyday. I wanted to be very conscious of all of this. My thought was that if we're going to do this, let's do it right. We've got 10 months to prepare.
I thanked that pre-Jason & Lillian me for digging in my heels and living a full, good life on my own. I reminded myself how important that was to me, and how important that would eventually be for my daughter. Lillian deserved a totally new version of me anyway; a fresh Leslie, v.2, and I was very careful to get myself fully prepared to give that to her. I did a great job of giving myself the world, and now I was ready to accept this partnership with Jason so that we could do that for our daughter. I shocked myself really, I was more than ready for it, I realized I was craving it.
So, I cried. I cried deep, cleansing, purposeful tears and it felt amazing. I cried because I gave in to the vulnerability of admitting all of these things to myself. I cried that I was being blessed with a child. I cried that I was going to be able to give this gift to my husband. I cried that I would get to show this very beautiful world to my child and then I cried because I'd get to see it through her eyes.
I cried with a happiness that was so deep and so profound and I realized...all of this, every bit, every tear was all because I was becoming a mother.
To be perfectly honest with you, in my adult life, my priorities were focused in other areas for such a long time, I never took the time to really sit and think about being a mom. I'm sure I thought about having children a little bit, but in my 20s and my 30s I spent much of my time and energy cultivating my education and my career; and when I pictured my future, it was always working or creating something and never once was it a person.
To say I waited to do the marriage and family thing is an understatement. I didn't just wait, I took my SWEET time to do both...but when it happened, it all happened quickly and all at one time.
I met Jason when I was 37, and he was a cool NINE years younger than me. (Insert "cougar" joke here that we've heard a billion times). If you think for a second that when I met him I "knew" I'd marry him, you would be wrong. I met him, thought "he's about seven minutes old, I have ZERO time for that..." and I went about my business. What I didn't know was that this guy was tenacious; (that's my polite way of saying "pain in the ass"), because he did not leave me alone. I tried to brush him off multiple times, I even tried being rude to him so he'd leave me alone...nothing worked. What was it with this dude??
We met while I was producing one of my many burlesque shows then, and he was my "lighting guy"..."Jason The Lighting Guy" was how I put his number in my phone. One night after a particularly long rehearsal, he walked right up to me and demanded that I go drink whiskey with him at the front bar of Excalibur nightclub in Chicago, IL. (where we were performing). I mean, I wasn't going to turn down whiskey...so I happily agreed.
Long story short, we began dating. I broke up with him during Christmas. He still kept pestering me. Funny, recently we were talking about this and he said to me "Yeah, you broke up with me but I just really wanted to be your friend if I couldn't date you. You were fun and cool and I don't know, I just liked you." He's never told me that before. What a sweetheart, and here I was being as bitchy as I could be toward him.
One day, my friend Binzi said "Les, just give him a small chance...he really likes you." (She really rallied behind the "Jason" cause). I finally listened. I got over myself and my "I'm too old for him" mentality, and well, the rest is history....and I'll be damned...he's my husband today.
We are a perfect balance for each other. He hangs in there with me when I'm all over the place, he can calm me down when I need it and don't realize it, he's the most compassionate person I've ever met but you'd never guess that initially with him...(he guards that pretty carefully, if you just meet him you'd swear he was a curmudgeonly old man...he's so not). He actually listens to my advice and respects my opinion. He's a sweetheart to my family and loves my brothers, (very important to me). I teach him how to be gracious and patient with life, and he teaches me to not be so worried all the time. He's wonderful and he's caring and I just love him. So...I married him. Lucky me.
About 8 weeks after we got married, I was out to dinner with a friend of mine, and was feeling a weird kind of ill. The waiter brought our food, set it down in front of me and I immediately felt totally nauseous. After that dinner, I was sitting in my car to drive home and I hadn't begun to drive away yet, because I was assessing how I was feeling. I knew what food poisoning nausea felt like, I knew was stomach flu nausea felt like, and I knew what hangover nausea felt like...this was a totally different kind of nausea. Great. I probably had stomach cancer or an ulcer or some rare disorder. Ugh. Still I knew what I had to do before I jumped on the "do I have cancer" train.
Exactly at the moment of me identifying what type of weird stomach feeling I was having, Jason texted my phone (he knew I had somewhat been feeling strange that day and wanted to check on me). "How are you feeling", was his text. I wrote back: "I'm on my way home, but I'm stopping at Walgreen's first for a pregnancy test. Be home soon." His reply: "Okay then!!"
(Mind you, at this point, we had been married just about six weeks. We were still very much newlyweds, existing in that floaty space of happiness and bliss).
I walked in the door with wide eyes, and a stern mouth and he just laughed at me when he saw me. I beelined it for the bathroom.
You know how when you take a pregnancy test, you have an agonizing three minutes to wait before you can actually see the result? Well, the moment I took mine, the result did not take three minutes, it was immediate, the tiny digital screen said "pregnant" and the second tiny digital letters under that said "3+ weeks", (I had no clue pregnancy tests told you how long you were pregnant!! Technology is so cool).
I ripped open the bathroom door, with the test in my hand, and..."Jason?" I looked around the corner into our living room. Where's my husband?? "Hello?" No answer. I realized our dog was gone too, ah...he took the dog out. Awesome timing J.
I'm standing in my kitchen, my cat Max was sitting on one of our bar stools looking at me, and so I told our cat, "we're pregnant Maxie!!!" He wasn't as excited as I wanted him to be. He just lazily cat-blinked at me and turned away.
Finally, Jason came into the front door, the first thing he sees is me standing in the kitchen with my pregnancy test in my hand, and I blurt out "we are 100%, very pregnant...and it says 3+ weeks!!! Omg!! I'm in grad school Jason!!! I just started a new job!!! I'm FORTY-ONE!!!! Omg, we're pregnant!!"
You know what he did? He smiled the biggest smile I had ever seen on his face, and walked over to me and just gathered me into his arms and said "this is so awesome!" I leaned back to look at him and said "why aren't you freaking out??" He said "because it's really cool Les, we're gonna be awesome parents!!"
Are we?? Aren't we supposed to freak out about this? I also feel excited. I think I'm in shock.
There's this thing that happens to you when as an adult woman you find out you're pregnant for the first time, when after spending most of your adult life trying not to get pregnant and then you are, you feel unsure of how to feel. It is definitely a shift in mindset. A truly great one actually. One that I did not expect to fill me up with happiness in quite the way that it did.
All of a sudden I was giddy with delight, my head was spinning, I was nervous, I was freaked out but smiling from ear to ear, my weird ill feeling was finally explained, thank god I didn't have stomach cancer or an ulcer or some crazy disorder. Nope. What I had was a little, tiny baby.
I did what any woman in my position would do..."Hi mom, are you sitting down?"
