Lots of little people

I am not sure the last time Kali and I have had such a low key day. Kali was clearly not herself, laying around pretty much all day and taking a nap before noon! She is sleeping again and upon checking her now her sweaty forehead confirms that her fever has broken, thanks to the acetaminophen which she very reluctantly took.

We have yet to determine for sure if she has yet another virus coursing through her little body or if she happens to be one of the few kids who has an unfortunate and miserable reaction to the chicken pox vaccine that she received yesterday. Regardless, my worry meter starts creeping up pretty quickly when her eyes get droopy, she doesn't want to do anything but sit around and cuddle with me, and her fever tops 103.

It would probably be a good idea to focus on sleeping, not knowing what the night will bring, but this low key day has also involved more sitting around for me. It involved rocking Kali almost through an entire CD and journaling myself to tears while she napped this morning. Both events were much needed.










On the tail end of a week with lots of little people time, I find myself thinking about Nora a lot. I've included a few pictures here of the special visitors which graced our home. I love seeing how each one is developing and learning new things and already showing off their budding and unique personalities. It's fun to watch Kali enjoying them as well, and being a big helper picking out the next diaper needed or getting a doll when useful for some quick comforting.

Last evening we had our semi-regular meal with our Fruit Farm Lane neighbors. The meal was a close reenactment to our Christmas day meal last year; the food that is. I haven't had Kristin's split pea soup since then and it took me back, both of our families adjusting in different ways to the new little lives that had joined us that Fall. Nora's absence was felt last night. Phoebe wore a little sweater that one of my college roommates made for Nora last year. Holding Phoebe was sweet and sad.

Back to today: When Kali fell asleep laying against me on the futon this morning I was trying to get some work done from home in hopes that I can actually take most of our staff holiday days off in the coming week or two. I wasn't expecting her to allow sleep to overtake her (not realizing how "off" she was clearly feeling) and all of a sudden I realized that here I had a golden opportunity to do something that I can't do when I need to be caring for Kali and I was frantically trying to get work done. It didn't help that my network connection was horrible and so each task was taking three times as long as normal. I felt that familiar rise of anxiety in me.

I logged off and grabbed my journal, that hadn't been cracked for almost 2 months now. I rambled through various topics and sources of tension before circling around to this unpredictable grief journey I find myself on. When life gets busy, that part of my life seems to be the quickest to get pushed aside or put off for a more convenient time. I can quickly find myself spiraling emotionally about all sorts of things. The quiet today had to seep into me. I was pretty loud in it initially and wondered if I'd ever find a way to quiet myself. Five pages or so into writing I found myself addressing Nora.

"Nora. Nora. Nora. You continue to be a mystery to me. You were nurtured in my womb. You were my daughter, our daughter, Kali's sister. You came and you went. You disrupted, you exposed, you purified, you baffled, you amazed us. Sometimes I'm so grateful for the quiet of my house - absent of oxygen machines that kept you breathing. But the quite makes me crazy too because in that quiet your absence is so real and then I miss you. When Kali is buzzing around full of energy and my "to do" list grows as the activities and commitments build, I feel like my grief and my memories of you are crowded out and pushed aside. I feel cold. I wonder if I'll ever cry again. I long for tears that will make me feel alive and remind me that you are not. It seems that when the quiet comes so do the tears, reminding me that it hasn't been long since we loved you, touched you, cared for you. And then I'm grateful and some of the anxiety lifts and I feel lighter again."

Kali woke up then and so the writing ceased but the remainder of the day I felt like I traveled back and forth between this season in life and the previous ones. I held Kali close, but wondered when, if ever, I'd get good at holding on to my loved ones firmly and passionately yet loosely. I remember when Kali was a toddler and we got our first chicks, it was nearly impossible to explain to her how she needed to hold onto the chick so that it was secure and would not get out of her hands but to not squeeze it. Somehow we learn to do that with things we can see and touch. I find it a whole lot harder to do on an intangible level. I'm practicing...