Pennsburg again...without Nora

From Jason’s parents’ place in Pennsburg, Pennsylvania (PA)

Some moments I feel so raw. One moment I’ll feel able to enter into a conversation and the next I need to get away, and the sooner the better. It seems innocent for a conversation to go from raisins in baked goods, to cinnamon raisin bagels, to sundried tomato bagels, and then the question is posed: What food is so good that you should make sure to have it before you die? I didn’t hear much more before leaving the room except for “blueberries.”

Blueberries. There aren’t many fruits that I actually thought about Nora getting to enjoy but blueberries were one of the few. On our few walks that we did get to enjoy outside, we had walked in the blueberry patch next door at Samuel and Margaret’s. And days after we returned home from UVA without Nora, the first berries were turning from pink to blue. I agree. Everyone should get to taste a blueberry before they die. It’s not fair that not everyone gets to enjoy that sweet, tangy, seedy and smooth flavor. It drives me crazy some moments to think that Nora did not and will not.

This week has felt so bittersweet for me. We’ve done so many fun things together, the three of us. Kali has enjoyed water in many forms: the bay, driving over and under and beside large bodies of water on our road trip, splashing in puddles, the pool here at Mom and Dad’s, and a rainstorm that left water on pine trees that rained on her after it officially stopped raining. And we now find ourselves surrounded by supportive and loving members of Jason’s family. Cards, pictures and reminders of Nora are around and the conversation occasionally comes back to her brief physical presence with us. That feels good and right. And it feels good and right for the time to not always be focused on Nora. However, it seems that my process includes the need to think about Nora when she comes to mind, to grieve her absence when the waves of emotions come at me, and the timing of the waves and thoughts do not always neatly fit into all the other activity going on around me.

I knew I would feel very sappy driving up Mom and Dad’s driveway Thursday afternoon. It had been the Christmas before last since we were here, since we missed this past Christmas due to Nora’s inability to travel. Going to Cape Charles without Nora was hard but it was not a place I had ever dreamed we would to take her. Pennsburg is different. She was supposed to be here with us: enjoying being held and doted on by family, enjoying her first dip in the pool, the baby swing, seeing the chickens and the garden, going for a walk down to the pond and watching her big sister pull in a fish all by herself, and experiencing a place that holds many special family memories.

Sometimes I wonder if we should have risked traveling with her. Will I come to regret that we didn’t create any memories with Nora in places that I will visit many times in the coming years? If I had known we only had 7 months with her, would I have lived differently? Would I have risked more and sheltered her less from germs, the cold, the stress of travel? Would she have tolerated it if we had tried? And even if we had successfully made trips to our families’ homes in Pennsylvania and the “Mountain House” in West Virginia, would it really have made this time any less painful? Likely the answer is no, but of course I can’t help but wonder.

One of the best things for me being here is to see Kali once again enjoying the company of two of her cousins, Joshua and Sabrina. One of the harder things for me is watching Joshua and Sabrina together, as well as watching Jason and his siblings interact. Sometimes I feel like it is kind of crazy for me to reassure Kali that she is still Nora’s big sister. What kind of comfort is that? Does it just rub it in that Nora is no longer present with her for her to hold, dance for, kiss on the head, play with and pick outfits out for?

So that takes me once again to a question that Jason and I find ourselves coming to every now and then, pondering and commenting on for a few minutes until I get overwhelmed by it and then retreating from until the next time. Will we try to have another baby?

Before Nora was born I found that an easy question to answer. Absolutely not! There was no way under the sun that I would put myself through the same ordeal again: bed rest and a high risk pregnancy full of unknowns. And then after Nora was born and still in the NICU I was quite sure that the best route for future birth control was the most permanent and irreversible option possible. Jason wasn’t ready to slam, lock and dead bolt the door quite yet (and I’m grateful to him for that!). Clearly it wasn’t the time to make any big and permanent decisions.

It felt like it was only days after Nora died that I first started getting the question from others. Of course it wasn’t that it hadn’t crossed my mind, but I almost felt guilty for even entertaining the thought. Something about it felt like I was dishonoring or discounting Nora’s life to so quickly be thinking of trying to “replace” her with another baby, and hopefully a healthy one. While intellectually I knew that I could never replace our second child, something still didn’t sit right with me to be processing that possibility or have other persons asking me to respond to it.

At other moments I start to wonder if it wouldn’t be dishonoring Nora to not give our family the chance of loving and nurturing another baby. It seems that my main reason for stating emphatically “never again” is wrapped up in one word: fear. I’m not sure I have what it takes to try again. I’m not sure I could emotionally hold up for 9 months of pregnancy again. And what if our next baby would have similar challenges? When I have had it confirmed and reconfirmed that I am someone that does better when I know what to expect and how to plan, why would I willingly embark on another journey that would be undoubtedly, even in the best of cases, full of unknowns and mystery? Why?

That is where Nora’s life stares me boldly in the face. And I have a whole new set of questions to answer. What did her life teach me about risk? About love? About what it means to live fully and to be present to the experiences life brings our way? At times during my pregnancy and at points during Nora’s life, all of it felt so pointless and painful and not worth it (for us or for her), but now I’m not so sure. I can say for sure that I am glad that Nora entered our world, even if only briefly. I can say confidently that I loved her and that I miss her and that I’d give a lot of uncertainty and unknowns to hold her and kiss her soft cheek and twirl one of her tufts of hair. her life was worth it to me. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to answer to my satisfaction whether it was worth it for her. I hope so. I hope that even though she never got a taste of blueberries, that we were able to give her many things that every person ought to experience before they die: lots of love, kisses, hugs, music, touch, holding, comfort, and affirmation.

When Kali was smaller and struggled with a new task, we would often encourage her by saying that she could do hard things too. It was cute to see her absorb that and later on come back to us when we were trying to do something and were momentarily unsuccessful and we’d hear her little voice say, “you can do hard things too.” Sometimes I feel like Nora taught me that I can do hard things, harder things than I ever thought I’d have the strength to endure. We’ve mentioned it before but we both feel like one of the main lessons from her life is that risking love is always worth it. Jason and I don’t feel anywhere close to making any kind of major life decisions right now, but when we come to more of a juncture in the road where the question comes more to the forefront, I hope that this truth is central to our process.

Often times I am almost haunted by hearing myself saying, “we could have been happy just the three of us.” In my most despairing and overwhelmed moments when caring for Nora took all of me plus some, I had such a hard time not wishing for our “pre-Nora” days when the adult-child ratio in our home was comfortably 2-1, and life felt a whole lot less complex. We won’t ever have that though. There will never be another “pre-Nora” day. And I’m not sure I wish for that anymore. She is so clearly a part of us and is intricately intertwined in our ongoing journey. This is more messy, no doubt, and some days I feel so scared about how each of us will process this loss and mostly about Kali. I know that we can be happy as a family of three living persons. I know that we will find our way into things that fulfill us, into relationships where we have persons to nurture, places where our gifts can be used and our time well spent. We enter another time of unknowns and finding our way. While I maybe feel that I’m better with predictability and more content when life feels planned out so I know just what to expect, I’m not sure that life is most fulfilling that way or that I’m as fully living. I also know that I’ve had to rely on others much more over the last year and while I am eager to start preparing most of our own meals again, I hope to retain the sense that my life is dependent upon and intertwined with my community. I want others to know that I still need them! I’m not sure I want to come across as having it all together again – an impression I never was so happy that I seemed to exude!

This reflection and my energy for writing are coming to an end. It’s been another session of writing in spurts and stops. The biggest intermission came this afternoon when Jason’s whole family (minus one sister who won’t arrive until tomorrow) went bowling – another first for Kali. Laughter found me again. Kali’s presence has been so healing for me. Her love for life is contagious. Plus, I’m not sure many could watch her bowl and not smile. Most of the other adults got through two games in the time that it took the kids (and three of us who were okay with having the help of the gutter-guard) to play one game. A good part of that delay had to be caused by the amount of time it took for Kali’s ball to get from start to finish. Thankfully we only had to call them once to rescue a ball that had stopped rolling about ¾ of the way down the lane. She tried orange balls, a pink ball and two shades of purple. She tossed a few balls but mostly put them on the ground and gave a good push. She was proud of all of her 60 points! On the way home though she admitted that between bowling and miniature golf (which we did in Cape Charles, also a first for her), she preferred miniature golf. While I can’t remember her exact words it had something to do with the fact that in miniature golf “you get talenter and talenter” because the holes get more challenging and in bowling you just do the same thing over and over again.

Now she is out enjoying the pool for about the sixth time or so since we arrived. I’m about to put french bread in the oven. It has felt good to get my hands in dough again. Love to all, Janelle