My "classified" friend

It's been about eighteen months since the last time I posted in the personal section of my local craigslist.

I found myself in the not uncommon position of being friendless. (I'm not counting my BFF, she's more like a sister.) But, after five years of being an at-home mom, I no longer had friends from work. No relatives lived close enough to hang out with. And the few mothers I met were not interested, or able, to get out of the house and do things together. So I tried posting for a friend in the local craiglist under the platonic section.

The first person that responded emailed me four or five times but never came through with an actual time to meet. I re-posted. The second person that responded was a stay-at-home mom close to my own age and we met at Ihop for coffee one evening. Her name was Leticia.

Leticia is a Civil Engineer who stopped working to stay home with two girls. Like me, it wasn't a natural environment for her. She was looking for someone to meet for coffee in the evenings, some adult conversation. She's also an avid writer and is always learning new things. We hit it off immediately.

We met at Ihop every week for four months, then started meeting at each others house. Family members were introduced. We've been to their daughters birthday party, and they've attended two of Will's.

Every month during my pregnancy, Leticia would buy me a large box of diapers in different sizes. I'd show up for coffee, and they would be sitting there. Like it was no big thing. Then towards the end of my pregnancy she told me that she would watch Linden one afternoon every week after he was born.

I'll admit I didn't expect her to go through with it. I had several friends, neighbors, and acquaintances say similar things during my pregnancy. (Take a wild guess on how many have watched Linden?)

Yep, just Leticia.

Each time she's watched him, Linden has cried nearly the entire time shes had him, but she doesn't let it phase her. She's calm about the entire thing and just keeps offering. The earth moves a little bit each time she so calmly says, "So, same time next week?"

I don't think she realizes what an amazing gift she's giving me. And I've not been very successful at expressing my gratitude ... she just pushes my thanks aside.

Well, I might have found her in the classified section, but when it comes to friendship ... I'd have to classify her as a true friend. And a blessing.

George and the Lamp

Today a relative of mine lost her baby. She wasn't very far along, and the circumstances for having a child were not perfect ... she isn't married and doesn't have a job. And while there will, no doubt, be people who think it was probably for the best, I'm not one of them.

I've lost three children in my life time, and every single one of them hurt. When I lost the first, I was only eighteen (I was married and I did have a job). The pregnancy had not been confirmed since I didn't have the funds to seek medical attention. But I knew. And when things started going wrong I was heart broke. However, the type of support I received was more of the it's-for-the-best variety.

"You're really to young to be a mom anyway."

"God knows best."

"There was probably something wrong with it."

"You'll have more kids."

I kept my sorrow to myself, as that seemed to be what was expected of me. I was told not to name it, think about it, or talk about it. Supposedly, I would get over the loss faster that way.

I was much older, and wiser when I lost my last child. I was also further along; 13 weeks. The doctor's had been monitoring my numbers twice a week for three weeks and the numbers were doubling the way they were suppose to. Steve and I didn't tell anyone until we passed the 12th week - the first trimester. I went to church every Sunday praying it would be a viable pregnancy. In secret, Steve and I picked out names and I crocheted little hats and booties.

We wouldn't know the sex for another six weeks, but we decided to call our baby George if it was a boy. Besides being Steve's grandfather's name, we both remembered the old cartoon where the little girl says, "I'm gonna love him and hug him, and squeeze him, and call him George."

After we were in the clear we shared out good news with the families.

A week later, George died.

My father-in-law suggested I consider planting a tree in remembrance. The more I thought about the idea, the more it felt right; something to represent the loss of a life. Something that says, "he mattered", "he's missed" - even if it was only by me.

But a tree? A living plant? Both my daughters can tell you my thumb tends to run more to black than green. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it if a tree I planted for George ended up dying ... and the odds were good it would.

In the days following George's loss, Steve and I walked many malls and stores. I couldn't stand being at home. I couldn't stand being alone. While out, I kept my eye open for something that might represent the life that had been extinguished way to early. Something to commemorate the weeks of hope and love we secretly shared with our child. I had no idea what I was looking for, or even if I would find anything.

During one of our trips I found myself drawn to a floor lamp and we ended up purchasing it. I liked the fact it would provide light and warmth. I could picture myself curled up in a chair beneath it for years to come. I also liked the idea that no one but me would ever know that the floor lamp in my bedroom was all I had left of George.

It's been nearly ten years since we lost George and I still have the lamp. There's not a week that goes by that I don't use or look at the lamp and have a brief memory of the time I spent carrying him. But it no longer hurts and I'm glad that he still lives in my thoughts in a positive way.

If I had one thing to share with other mother's when they loose a child before it's born, it would be this ...

They deserve to be remembered.

I don't want to see you again!

The Back Story

It is very hard for me to let my children go; to silently sit by as they leave. It hurt when Bonnet moved out of the house eight years ago, even though she still lived relatively close by. But I cried off and on for months while I adjusted to her absence in my life.

Over the next few years I became more accustomed to our new relationship. Still my daughter, still much loved, but only in my company once a week or so. A level of comfort was achieved and there was no sadness at the end of our visits.

Then she moved to Colorado. I'm lucky if I get to see her once or twice a year now; and it hurts. I've adjusted to her absence on a day-to-day bases. But when I do visit with her, the leave-taking is devastating. When the last visit ended, I couldn't even drive her to the airport I was so upset. Hell, I didn't even let her get out of the house before I was crying like a baby -- and I know what a baby cries like!

With Tori, it's been a little easier. I'd already been through one child leaving, and oddly, that made Tori's move to San Marcos easier. Still sad. I helped her pack her stuff and hauled it to the dormitory for her. And for the four years she attended college I would see her 3-4 times a month. She'd visit, I'd drive over for lunch, etc.

The Issue

Tori is moving to San Angelo, about four hours away, for a job. It is definitely closer than Colorado (which for some odd reason EVERYONE feels the need to point out), but realistically, I don't expect to see her often. I don't even make it to Brady, my home town, which is only two hours away but once or twice a year. I'm planning on driving down for a visit every 4-6 weeks, but there is a part of me that expects there will always be something getting in the way of those visits.

This Week


This is Tori's last week in town, she leaves tomorrow.

Monday: I had lunch with her, our goodbye meal. I cried off-and-on all last weekend just thinking about her being gone. Monday was sad and I tried very hard not to share my unhappiness, but I cried all the way home from San Marcos.

Tuesday: Tori had testing in Austin and when she called me with the results we decided on an impromptu lunch. The boys and I met her for lunch and it was bitter sweet. Once again I was swamped with the knowledge this would be the last time I'd see her before she left town. The last time the three children would have lunch. I pondered how little she'd be involved in Linden's life. I battled sadness and tears that afternoon.

Thursday: Lew, my father-in-law, calls to let me know he and his wife, Dona, are taking Tori to lunch on Friday and wants to know if I can make it. Of coarse I can. But I spend the rest of the evening thinking about how sad it's going to be to see her.

Friday: Tori stops by and we ride over to lunch together. After lunch we do a few errands and stop back by the house. By the time she leaves I'm crying so hard I can't even tell her goodbye. I don't tell her anything ... trying to keep it together and not make it harder for her. The rest of my day is shot.

Saturday: At a family get-to-gather, Lew hands me a coat for Tori. She's leaving Sunday, but it would be a shorter drive for her to drop by our house to pick it up, as opposed to driving out to Lew's. I don't need glasses to see the writing on the wall, her stopping by on her way out of town would devastate me.

The Happy Ending

As it happens, my brother will be visiting tomorrow and he will be heading right back to where Tori will be. So I called Tori and asked her if it would be okay if I just gave the coat to Jessy and she could pick it up for him.

"Yes!" she replied, sounding incredibly relieved.
"That would be perfect.
I've already said bye to you like four times this week!"

I laughed.
"Yeah, I don't want to see you again either!"


Oddly, for the first time all week, I can smile about her departure.

You're Perfect

Steve had to work this morning, so he was up and in the shower by 6 am. Shortly after he left the bedroom, Will came in feeling a little sick at his tummy.

I snuggled him up on Papa's side of the bed and got him some medicine.

When Steve came out of the bathroom, Will just laid there quietly and watched his Papa. Steve put on a long sleeve shirt and smoothed it down.

"You look good, Papa," Will said. For once, his voice quite and sincere. (That honest emotion you seldom hear from children as they age.)

"No." Steve puffed out his tummy in exaggeration. "Papa is fat!"

"No," Will replied quietly, "You're perfect."

Still Pregnant

I am exactly 11 days away from my official due date, November 14th. Most women would be happy to be so close to the end of their pregnancy. Me, I'm pissed.

Due to my age, 45, I've been told repeatedly by every doctor I've seen that I could expect to deliver 3-4 weeks prior to my due date.

So, that's what I planned for. I've had everything finished and ready for use for almost three weeks now. And, as we were expecting to deliver early, we haven't gone anywhere or made any plans that couldn't be dropped at a moments notice.

Today my doctor informed me that it will "most likely be a full week" before we have to worry about labor. What the hell?

She proceeded to explain that apparently, internally, I have the body of a much younger woman. Great! And no one noticed this before now?

Besides, what 45 year old woman wouldn't rather have the external body of a much younger woman?

On Your Mark ...

If there has been one consistent thing through out my unexpected pregnancy, it has been how hard I've tried to maintain a peaceful and stress-free life. Knowing the odds of a 45 year old woman carrying a child to term are horrendous, Steve and I have done everything possible to lighten my load and keep me and Linden as calm as possible.

Well, things are about to get interesting. Luckily, for Linden, his birth is basically the whistle that will start the race to the end of 2011.

(1) On Your Mark ...
Linden is due the 14th of November. And as shocking as it is to all of us concerned, he has technically made it to 'full-term' - as of Sunday night.

(2) Get Set ...
I haven't seen my side of the family since mom's death, so we are planning on driving up to see them for Thanksgiving. Thank God I won't be expected to do anything, but I'll still have a new baby on a road trip.

(3) Go!
Will's 7th birthday is December 2. Especially since Linden will have just officially entered our lives, it is important I don't 'short' Will this year. So we're talking party with friends, cake, presents. Work!

(4) and Go!
Bonnet and B'ella are coming to visit and see Tori's graduation. They'll probably show up around the 11th or 12th of December. I love them to death and miss them all the time, so I am super excited they are going to make it down. However, we will have to plan a family Christmas while they are here - not that I'd miss it for the world.

(5) and Go!
Tori's graduation is the 16th of December and afterward we are throwing an informal party in my back yard. I'm happy to be able to do anything to help celebrate Tori's graduation. I'm very proud of her and feel that I've helped her very little the last four years. The party will be nothing fancy, but it still means my yard and house need to be company cleaned. While I've managed to clear most of the clutter from the house, you don't want to know what the yard looks like. Work!

(6) and Go Again!
Then there is Christmas. I can already tell you I don't feel like putting up a tree, but for Will, the effort will be made. But then there is the meal, presents, Christmas eve, cards, etc.

A minimum of six engagements/events in a six-week period may not seem overwhelming to most people, but it does to me. And there is not a single event I would miss. It just majorly bites that they all happen at the same time.

Bonnet and Tori have both offered to help prepare the house for company. And just being surrounded by so much family and love will go a long way to smoothing the bumps I encounter as this amazing year says it's good byes.

The Nightmare

Will woke me up at 3:00 am Wednesday morning. He'd had a bad dream and was afraid. I calmed him down and got him back in bed. The next morning, while driving to the sonogram with Tori, I asked him what it was about. He asked if he could please not tell me.

I figured he didn't want to talk in front of Tori and I let it go. I even forgot about it.

Then he woke me again this morning. Another nightmare. I got him back to sleep. When Steve and I were putting him to bed, I asked what his nightmare was about and again he asked if he could please not tell me. We tried to let him know how sharing your fears with others can make them less scary. He didn't budge. Finally, Steve volunteered to leave the room and I got Will to talk.

First, he made me try to guess what his fear was. I covered all the normal things: school, teachers, bullies, animals, heights, falling, monsters, etc. Everything I could think of, to no avail.

He eventually come clean. He whispers really quietly, "A red and a green color are at war with me."

"Crayons?" I asked, stupefied.

"Yeah, they are at war with me."

He then proceeds to tell me how they attach him, chase him, and generally bully him. Two crayons. I'm kind of proud at how quickly I bounced back with a solution though.

"Crayons melt," I informed him. "You can fight them out in the sun and they'll melt. Blow them with a hair dryer. Shoot them with a flame thrower. Tie them to a light bulb and turn it on."

My mind was churning trying to find the right thing to say. But then I notice the emerging smile and relaxing facial muscles.

Oh yeah, them crayons are in for it now!