Zoë Day

If there were ever a day I wish I could wipe from the calendar, it’s this one.  This day marks the worst nightmare I’ve ever lived through.  Lennox’s death was hard, but not unexpected.  We’d accepted that his chances of surviving were so small.  Zoë, however, brought us so much hope every single day.  When we rushed into that NICU room two years ago today to see a crowd of nurses and doctors surrounding that little bed, our entire world just slammed into a brick wall.  It never goes away.  It doesn’t fade.  I can still recall perfectly every second, the sound of empty vials of drugs being dropped on the floor, the sight of the neonatologist’s eyes staring at me over his mask, the feel of someone pressing a wet towel against my neck.  I remember feeling too heavy too move and, at the same time, like I’d lost the boundaries of my body and become vapor.

Every morning, I put on my necklace with their names, and they are with me.  In my life, so different from what I thought it would be two years ago, they are with me every day, every hour.  I say their names.  I remember the feel of them in my arms.  I remember holding Zoë against my chest and feeling her tiny fingers grasping against my skin.

Thank you for remembering our Sweet Zoë with us today.

As I did for her brother, I am putting out the request for donations to the March of Dimes.  I can think of no better legacy for Sweet Zoë than working to prevent premature births and to increase the knowledge needed to care for extremely premature infants.  Any size donation is welcome; there are pre-set amounts and an option for a custom amount. Donations may be made anonymously if you prefer not to have your name listed on the web page, and the amount of your donation is not disclosed to anyone.

Bronchitis Blues

It all started the weekend before Christmas. I had a sore throat, a lot of sinus drainage, and a hacking cough. No fever, no wheezing, no aches, no pains. My nose wasn’t even stuffy. I figured, I had a cold.

By Tuesday, I was miserable and sounded EXACTLY like Harvey Fierstein. And, my general practitioner had absolutely no openings. Off to the urgent care clinic I went, because you know if I decided to tough it out with my luck, I’d end up in the emergency room on Christmas Eve or Day with pneumonia. I didn’t really get a diagnosis. I got a list of symptoms and a prescription for an antibiotic. I had some fluid in my ears, I had a “beefy, red throat” and a truly impressive cough. Take two of these each day, drink tea with honey, gargle with salt, sleep, and try cough drops.

I finished my ten days of antibiotics and still had a cough that I was sure would start attracting harbor seals before much longer. I was sick of tea with honey, I’d taken so many steamy showers and held my towel-draped head over so many bowls of steaming water, I was starting to peel. So, I headed off to see my own doctor.

Still had fluid in my ears. Before, I hadn’t noticed anything going on with my ears, but this time, I could definitely tell something wasn’t right. They didn’t hurt, but they felt….wrong. Still no sinus pressure or congestion, but the cough was starting to scare small children. This time, the diagnosis was “a touch of bronchitis.” Take this antibiotic, drink tea with honey, gargle with salt, sleep, etc. Sigh. By now, I’ve coughed so hard, I’ve pulled something in my back.

I finished THAT prescription this past Saturday. Sunday was probably the worst night to date, with a cough that JUST WOULD NOT GO AWAY. I’ve been sleeping in our guest room because it’s tiny and our hot steam humidifier can turn it into a veritable swamp (and that way Shannon gets some sleep, which is good because he’s on nurse duty/maid duty/backrub duty). First thing Monday, called the doctor…who is out of the office. Earliest appointment is yesterday afternoon. Sigh.

So, here we are. Round three. Just about one month in. No fluid in the ears this time! Got a breathing treatment in the doc’s office. And another antibiotic. This time, I have an inhaler as well in case there is asthma-like inflammation of the airways contributing to the shortness of breath and tightness in my chest. I expect to wake up each morning to see that the steam has peeled the paint from the walls, so humid has our guest bedroom become. I REALLY REALLY hope this does it. This has gotten seriously old.

I suppose I should count the small blessings. No stuffy nose, so I can still taste my food. No fever. Shannon brings me things like whole food’s ginger ale, Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and Dunkin’ Donut Munchkins as treats since I can barely walk from one room to the next, much less leave the house. A ready-made excuse for staying in my pj’s all day and watching truly horrendous television while eating popcorn with tons of parmesan cheese on it. All those cute seals hanging out in the backyard. On a good night, I can get all of the dogs in the neighborhood barking along with me.

It has to go away sooner rather than later. Right?

Thank you!

You all raised somewhere between $250 and $300 for the March of Dimes on behalf of Lennox, yesterday. I’d be more exact but, um, I forgot to write down how much had been donated to his band previously … I think it had $350 already on it.

Anyway, that’s a fantastic amount for one day on short notice! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

And we also thank you for remembering with us, for holding our Lennox in your hearts. That is as important as any donation.

The link to the bands is always in the sidebar, should you ever find yourself just sitting around wondering, “Where could I make a worthwhile donation today?” I’m just sayin’!

Lennox Day

Two years ago, we said goodbye to Lennox Maximilian Simpson, the little boy with the big name, almost before we had a chance to say hello. We think of our sweet boy every single day. It overwhelms my heart to know how many others out there will speak his name today.

I tried to think of some way to honor his memory; some way for him to continue to leave his mark on this world even though he didn’t spend very much time in it. If you would like to help, please make a donation to the March of Dimes in his name. Their research into the causes of prematurity may some day ensure that another family does not have to go through what we did. That link takes you to his band and you can donate any amount, even a dollar. If everyone who read this blog on his birthday donated one dollar, we could raise almost $350 for the March of Dimes.

Two years

Today is your second birthday. I can’t even imagine what you would look like, what you would be doing.

I still think of you both every single day.

There is still such a huge empty space that should be filled with the two of you.

I miss you very very much, my brave Lennox and my sweet Zoë.

still life 365

I’ll get a link added to the sidebar this week, but I wanted to pass this along. The poem posted today, as the first entry of the project, hits particularly hard as I move closer to Sunday. They are still accepting entries if anyone is interested.

From still life 365:

still life 365 is a unique art project for, about and by mothers and fathers who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death. still life 365 posts a piece of art every day by a poet, artist, photographer, crafter, musician, collagist, paper artist, filmmaker, painter, sculptor, fabric artist and ordinary person exploring grief through creativity. each piece is an expression of grief, survival, sadness, love and hope. still life 365 is intended to be a safe space for creative expression. still life 365 is open to anyone affected by pregnancy loss not simply parents.

Happy New Year

Can I just say how freakin’ happy I am to close the door on this decade?

I hope the new year is filled with happiness, love, laughter, comfort and peace for each and every one of you.

Much love to all and have a very happy New Year!

Just for Aliki

Merry Christmas!

It’s a long story.

We interrupt this holiday season

Things have been kinda hectic here at Casa Simpson, what with school orchestra concerts, company parties, visitors and such. Fun, but hectic. The counter-offer was ignored, which is as good as rejected. We’ve had three more showings but no nibbles. Ah well. It is what it is.

I’m hip deep in my first big web design project, putting all of those classes to good use.

Beyond that, there hasn’t been much to report. I have been playing around quite a bit at Lunatic Fringe and you’re welcome to follow along. It’s an addicting thing, being able to freeze those moments.

We’re rounding the bend into the bumpy part of the year; too many anniversaries of things that shouldn’t have been. Year two brings a different flavor of grief, deeper, fewer sharp edges, a slightly more mature vintage. There are still moments that catch in the throat, twist the gut, and make us duck our heads to quietly wipe the tears away. And in a few days we will celebrate the day that brought us our lovely Zoë and sweet Lennox, then remember the days that we said goodbye.  It’s the bitter that makes us appreciate the sweetness of what we have that much more.

I wish everyone a very happy holiday season and send wishes that the new year brings all that you hope for.  As always, we end the year most thankful for the love and support of all of you.  Cheers!

This not so old house

So, the offer we received was pitifully low and would have had us bringing about $16000 to closing. Um, no. That just isn’t going to happen.

We made a counter-offer, agreed to include the refrigerator (which I thought we were already doing) and offered up the washer and dryer. Now, we’re waiting to hear back from them. The general feeling, though, is that they were probably just hoping we were so desperate to get out of our house that we’d jump at any offer and, while we would both like to be done with this process and move back east as soon as possible we’re not going to bankrupt ourselves to do it.

On the other hand, they wanted a closing date of Jan. 8, which would suggest a sense of urgency to their move so maybe they will go for it.

Maybe they’ll surprise us, but I’m not holding my breath.