mirror world

On the cabin deck in an adirondack chair with this view: a clear, amber-brown lake rich with life and tannin, wind in the poplars, a jewel sky and our artisan’s canoe, its maker so legendary that some have argued it should be in a museum (how we fortunate saps came to adopt it is another story). Most honourably, in this its second incarnation, it took us through everglades past friendly turtles and blooming lilies and beaver dams to the gnarly old twin-trunk maple that now stands watch over the resting place of our son.

Looking down into the glass-flat water at the forest’s reflection I saw the mirror world where Liam lives, the place I’ll always see in puddle and ocean alike. Wondering if he’s looking into it from where he is, looking for the flip-side, waiting for us.

 

I didn’t think I could watch, but I did. Full of morbid, panicked despair that this grey-white dust is all that remains of him. Then calm, resigned as his specks swirl around us, the same faint seeing as when you have to look away to see distant stars in a thick, black sky. We left the urn there, a marker, watched as bubbles glugged to the surface, swallowed by the creek.

The vessel of his soul, given a home more significant to us than to him. I am already everywhere, he whispers to me. But if you want to come here, do. I’ll be here too.

 

++++++++++

Eating my last hospital breakfast in the crapeteria. Have never been so nostalgic for imitation scrambled eggs, chewy, pre-cooked bacon and swampwater tea.

I think I’ve got it all handled but then contemplate walking that hallway for the last time, saying goodbye to our nurse-mothers and the scrubbing sinks and the godforsaken beige.

We were supposed to leave here with two babies. And now, only…

My heart knows to never talk that way, not ever, for what it implies to Ben. But my mouth runs ahead, immature.

This weekend our cabin’s housekeeper noticed the pumping paraphernalia and asked if we had a baby, and I said yes, but he’s in the NICU, he was early.

Oh my, you sweet dear. And I say he’s great, and we hope he may come home early this week, but…

Ohthankgoodness she cries with gusto, flapping her palms to her bosom. Thank goodness it all worked out for you.

I hesitate and smile, and Justin sees, and before we know it she’s off down the forest road, peppering the air with cheery congratulations more and more loudly through the car window as she drives away.

Justin grasps my hand and says I know, I totally know. I’ve had the same conversation. I don’t know what to say either.

Do you heap this tragedy on unnecessary strangers? Is it denying Liam to gloss him over, pretend he didn’t exist to spare others the discomfort of our loss?

No, and yes. Not much help, those answers.

++++++++++

<looks over shoulder sneakily>

Psst. Guess what?

We may make our escape from the NICU today, to home. My knuckles are black and blue from knocking wood, but that’s what they tell us.

A pre-emptive note to passerby: pay no heed to the exceptionally large and heavy suitcase accompanying our departure. The one from whence comes the muffled screams. Mind your own beeswax. Nothing to see here.

Want to make yourself useful? Get the nurse-in-charge to count to a hundred before doing a staff headcount. That should give us enough time to get clear of the building.

Already an ancient joke but one I can’t quit out of sheer nervous energy.

Comments

[Isabel]

I cannot read your writing without being changed in some way: braver, bolder, more honest.May you and Ben be home soon.

[erin]

i'm excited for you to be home, with your ben and your evan in your arms...and with your liam, always in your heart.my thoughts are with your family.

[Aliina]

we are knocking on wood for you too. home sweet home is calling you!

[Allyson]

Beautiful.

[PDX Mama]

Beautiful setting.

I wouldn't know what to say either. I hope this means you are truly leaving the NICU!!! A very big day for all of you. I remember knocking on wood also - you start to not trust what they say.

[LawyerMama]

How would anyone know what to say.

A beautiful post. Congrats on getting Ben home soon. Just use some duct tape on the nurse's mouth before you stuff him/her in the suitcase.

[Catherine]

You have a beautiful way with words.

I hope you are reading these comments from the comfort of your own home. I know you'll be great...without kidnapped help even.

And you will find your own way to answer the questions. Give it some time. You don't have to have all the answers today.

[Little Monkies]

We lost my brother when he was 15 and for years I struggled with whether or not to include him in the "how many siblings" questions. Once there were four, now there are three. A gaping hole, our only boy, a gift that I got when I was an only child at 4.5 yrs. old.

I do include him and for moment I feel bad about the awkwardness that it causes with whomever I am speaking. But I think that a piece of me has to demonstrate his life as much as it permits. It grows easier with time, the discomfort for others is easier when I can say "I lost my brother when I was 19--nearly 20 years ago". It gets easier with time.

[slouching mom]

"I am already everywhere, he whispers to me. But if you want to come here, do. I’ll be here too."

This took my breath away. And yes, he is everywhere.

I hope you're at home now.

Lori (at Losses and Gains) wrote a beautiful post about how tough it is to answer questions like these:

http://lossesandgains.blogspot.com/2007/06/walking-and-thinking-is-dangerous.html

[Bon]

i think they are always no and yes, those answers to the questions of who to deny, who to spare, how to negotiate the ridiculous terrain of people's bubble worlds and people's good intentions. but you are right, Liam is everywhere...it does him no harm even if some eyes remain blind to his presence. it is your heart and Justin's that will have to bear the burden of picking your way through the answers...but Liam? he is sheltered in that heart.

you chose a beautiful place to rest the vessel of a beautiful little soul.

now, grab Ben and get the hell home, will you?

[binkytown]

Wishing you a peaceful journey home.

[san]

I have no words for how much this entry touched my heart. I send love, wishes for peace and a great big hug.

[Niksmom]

I've been a shameless lurker for a few weeks now (courtesy of Jennifer over at Pinwheels). You really are an amazing woman, Kate, to go through what you are and still have the grace and presence to share it with virtual strangers. I have kept you, Liam, Ben, Evan, and Justin in my prayers since I "met" you. Your posts evoke such bittersweet memories of our seven months in the NICU with our son, Nik.

The joyful terror of going home and wondering how we will ever begin to cope without our nurse-mothers and the familiar smells and sounds. Yet, you will and you will all thrive after a short while. An even greater testament to Liam's legacy for he will be present in more and wonderful ways as you watch Ben grow.

Time will pass, grief will soften but never fade, and you will appreciate each small milestone along the way.

God Bless your family. I wish you peace.

[Rory]

Beautiful words. I have to stop reading at work though, it makes the tears hard to explain.

I have been in those bowels of the same hospital, knocking on wood, waiting to be released, trying not to look back over my shoulder on the way to the elevator when word finally came that we could leave. The giddy/dread-filled feeling of he's finally ours to take home/which nurse is coming with us?I hope you get to bring Ben home today.

[Alison (in OH)]

I'm knocking wood, too, and giggling at the image of a nurse smooshed into a suitcase.

I hope you are home in time for an afternoon nap!

[Eve]

I hope you are safely home in your homeful of sweet boys right now.

Liam's little piece of heaven on earth just takes my breath away -

Love and warm hugs to you and Justin,

xo

ps- I hope your new, startled, confused housemate acclimates herself quickly to her new home, teehee.

[bine]

i’m glad you're going home, with some prospect of normality (as if that could ever be) out of that beehive.liam's resting place sounds so beautiful and peaceful.do we have to heap our tragedies on strangers? i often wondered after i lost my mother. i think it always happens like in your case - either they really want to know, they ask, they search your face, and they wait until they feel you have finished your story. if they don't hear you out, if they just want to hear everything is fine, i don't think it's denying liam not to tell the whole story. it's just sparing them facts that would leave them uncomfortable and at loss for words.i hope you enjoy your home with your family. and good luck with that nurse!

[JuliaKB]

That's the way I feel about my son-- he is everywhere, and yet there are days when I need to make it to the cemetery, just need to.

You picked a beautiful place, and a beautiful way to get there.

Knocking on wood for you. And I hope that suitcase has wheels.

[anna]

So hoping you are on your way back home with Ben...

And there is no denying Liam, even if the bosomy housekeepers of the world don't know about him. He's there, and here, and where he needs to be most, in you and Justin and his brothers.

[Elaine]

Drinking up every word.

Hoping you are home today with Ben.

[angie]

So glad you are going to leave NICU soon! It will be nice to be home and have your own familiar surroundings. You described a beautiful place for Liam's resting place...it sounds so peaceful and tranquil. Still in my thoughts and prayers!

[Nancy]

"the gnarly old twin-trunk maple that now stands watch over the resting place of our son"

Such beauty.

XX crossing fingers XX that you will be able to bring Ben home today.

Sending good wishes for all your tomorrows.

[sarah]

As per usual, you have taken my breath away with your words.Such a beautiful place for all of you.

Congratulations on (knock wood) having Ben home. We practically sprinted out of the NICU with Jack...

[MammaLoves]

Kate I am constantly astounded by the grace and beauty you've found in all of this.

So glad to see a bit of humor popping in too.

Will be thinking of you coming home today. All digits crossed.

[Ally]

Home. What a beautiful word. I hope you are there even as I type this.

[imstell]

We busted my little boy out of the NICU one night early also. We offered the bribe of a new surfboard to the Dr in charge, which he laughingly declined, if he would let him go home with us that night.

If I could choose my very own resting place it would be one just so. I'm sure little Liam will rest safely and peacefully there until you are all reunite as a family once again. Also, I'm glad you were brave enough to look.

[andrea]

I am at a loss for words. You have again taken my breath away with your writing.

Hope that you are well on your way home with little Ben, even if you did have to sneak him out.

[ticblog]

Lurker here, too. Thanks for exposing your emotional skivvies - your courage is a gift that keeps on giving.

Happy homecoming with Ben.

[laughing mommy]

Always, when I read your writing... no matter how happy or sad the subject, there is a point where tears spring to my eyes. Your words are so beautiful, so touching.

Thank you for sharing the beautiful photos of the resting place of your sweet boy Liam.

Peace and calm and hope to you. Prayers too.

Congratulations on getting to maybe take Ben home today... how wonderful!

[HMFT]

The maple is all the better for having Liam in its home. Welcoming him, in body and spirit.

Beautiful. Heart shattering.

Again, I send to you all the MamaMojo I have, mamacita. And to Justin. What a rollercoaster.

Trust yourself. You will know the answers eventually.

I hope ya'll are tucked into your home right now. And the nurse? How is she? Glad to be free of her confines?

[Melissa]

Happy discharge day sweet Ben.

[canape]

So many times I have gone back to Bon's words to comfort myself and remind me: "Real moms sometimes have children you can't see."

And this truth, is one that I can keep with me, so that when people ask me if this is my first child, I can say "yes," and let them move on.

The news of Ben's impending homecoming is absolutely fantastic.

[franny]

There is nothing to say except thank you for your words once again. Wishing you and your family the best of best wishes.

[margaret]

That's great that Ben is coming home. I love the picture - it looks like such a serene place for Liam to be resting in.

[Joanna]

Sheer beauty in the scene you describe. I sit here, fixed to the computer, re-reading your story about Liam. There is heaviness in my heart for you having to go through it, but there is lightness and distant laughter, too. I couldn't imagine a more fitting place for your son and his soul to plant root. I am awed by your experiences, Kate.* As for bringing Mr. Ben home, you go girl. I am thrilled that this week is it. Can't wait to see photos of him and his older brother together - please remember that those two boys will always be in the good hands of their brother, Liam. He's not in physical presence, but he's always there. You are right about that. Hugs continuously -

[Jenn]

A perfect place for a perfect little soul. I hope when you visit, you will always find peace and serenity, as precious your Liam has.

Wonderful news to hear you can bring sweet Ben home. I'm sure you look forward to the chaos and familiarity of it all.

[Rose]

I'm so excited that you get to go home. Evan is going to be SO excited to have all of you with him.

I once read a heartbreaking article in BrainChild about what to answer to the question "how many children do you have." I think you've hit the nail on the head, is it fair to burden a stranger with the sadness? Or do you owe allegiance to your child? I don't think there's ever a right answer. But also, I don't think Liam would be sad no matter what answer you give. After all, you'll never forget him, and neither will any of us.

Good luck with the big escape. I hope the nurse doesn't stugle too hard...

[Leann]

Your words make this so real for the rest of us. I can even imagine having this very same conversation for someone. It would be so easy to do and never even notice the pain they're not mentioning, the loss they feel.

Good luck breaking free. Everyone will do a whole lot better when your family is home to stay.

[ashley in SC]

What a beautiful place you chose for Liam! He is everywhere...even way down here in South Carolina. I see and think of him when I play with my children.

I too hope you are at home with Ben! I would love to see Evan's face when he sees his baby brother. You don't need the nurse to help you....you are a wonderful mama.

I wish I had some advice on how to answer questions about how many children you have. A good friend of mine lost one of her twin boys due to a heart malformation. I once heard someone ask her mom how many grandchildren she had, and she quickly answered, "nine counting his brother who is in heaven." Of course, this was 2 years after the death of her grandson. Give it time, Kate. You will figure out what feels right to you and to Justin.

Much love,ashley

[ann adams]

Even now, over two months since my adult daughter died, I run into people in this small city who ask "how's Carol doing".

I stammer out something, they stammer back.

It's so hard and I don't have the answers either. I try to remember that most people are kind and respond the same way.

Your photos are lovely. I hope you're finding some peace and comfort in those surroundings.

[Amy]

I mentioned this here a few posts ago, but a father of twins, one survivor and another deceased, heaped his tragedy on me, a stranger. And it was okay, necessary, and naturally awkward. But I understood his need to talk about his daughter and think of him often.

[Aurelia]

I hope you've made your way through the nurse gauntlet and are home. Liam's place is beautiful.

[mo-wo]

Kate, I cannot imagine the pain or the release, if any, at the water. Just know I am thinking of you and I mean all of you. Take care is all that comes right now.

That and TAKE IT. Be cared for..

Safe home. Love from all of us.

[m]

Beautiful, stunning, heart-wrenching.

I don't think you can have a pat answer for that conversation. You say what you need to at that particular time. It's never easy.

And a huge WAHOO! to bringing Ben home. How excited must Evan be? I'm thrilled for you all.

[kimblahg]

congratulations on making your escape. those cases of neosure sticking out of the bag? i don't know what you are talking about.

[Melanie]

Congratulations on your escape, and finally all being home together. I'm glad you found somewhere so beautiful for Liam - I am sure he is enjoying it in his own way right now.

[cjh]

So happy to hear that you two will be home soon. It will be so nice to have your family together so the boys can get to know one another. On not mentioning Liam to the housekeeper...I haven't been through what you've been through but have my own sad stories. When I was 19 my mother died (my dad had gone 12 years before). At that age and now 10 years later, strangers expect you to have living parents. I can't tell you how many strangers (especially hairdressers) have made small talk over the years that eventually led to this topic. Sometimes I told them; sometimes I didn't. I don't think it's doing their memory a disservice. Maybe you/we were just saving strangers a little bit of added grief. As always, whatever you decide will be right for you.

[Tara-Lynn]

Thank you for sharing Liam's resting place with us. It is truly beautiful.

Sending good thoughts your way and a few bribes to the doctors so you can get the heck home with your brood of men.

Hugs....

[tulip]

Our love is with you Kate.

[D'Andrea]

stunning pictures to go with your beautiful words.

All the best with Ben's homecoming. I'm sure if you bake up some goods for that nurse she'll come willingly. Crapetria sounds dreadful.