KidKate

Maddie

Like many of Heather’s readers, I have never met Heather or Mike. In fact, I didn’t even “meet” their blogs until after I read the tragic news of their daughter Madeline’s passing.

But I can’t forget Heather or Mike or their beautiful baby girl, and like many of the people who have been following their story, at some point during each day since I’ve learned the news, I cry for each of them.

Naturally, because Heather is a mother and I am a mother, my thoughts often turn to her. I realize how arrogant it is to think there is something—anything—I can do to make what she has in front of her any easier, but each day I struggle with it. And since I have words, I would like to try to use them here to try to bring Heather even a moment of comfort when there is none to be given from a stranger like me.

I don’t want Heather, should she read this, to think that crying is all I do. I also watch Maddie’s videos and laugh as she learns to crawl or say “wowww.” I look at her pictures and smile at the tiny, perfect baby girl with the wide, impossibly blue eyes who had so many adventures in store for her. I read Heather’s words and am inspired by her grace and her strength during this untenable time—and I wonder if I could possibly muster as much courage if the tables were turned (I don’t think that I could). I want to sit with Heather, and I want to tell her it’s OK to be angry and bitter sometimes, if that she what she needs. Grieving can be ugly too, and it’s OK to be ugly online. The Internet will stand by her.

Maddie and my daughter have a few things in common, which is another reason Maddie’s story so selfishly resonates with me. Heather and I were pregnant at the same time (my daughter was born in September 2007). We nearly named our daughter Madeline but went with a family name instead, Eleanor for my husband’s great-aunt and Frances for my great-grandmother. Heather’s Maddie was also named for beloved family members. Maddie and Ellie often dressed the same, and now I can’t dress Ellie in yellow without thinking of this beautiful photograph of Madeline and her golden curls. Our daughter’s room is the same shade of purple as Maddie’s, and though I didn’t choose it—our landlord did—I will appreciate its strength more now. Maddie and Ellie even shared the same obsession with Abby and Elmo from Sesame Street.

However, by a trick of fate my daughter was induced at 41 weeks gestation, while Maddie was born at a mere 28. If I could split the difference with Heather, I so gladly would. How I wish it were an option.

But it is more than just what we have in common. It’s Heather and Mike themselves as well. Heather and Mike are young. They are personable. They are funny and attractive and they look like they’d be great fun to hang out with. They clearly love their daughter with every ounce of their beings. And they’ve opened up their lives on their blogs—and continue to do so—to all of us.

I don’t think I need to remind anybody who is reading this what makes Maddie so special—her happy toothy grin, her warm, giving nature, her sweet curls and even her diminutive doll-like size.  Any mother would be proud to have a daughter like Madeline.

I’m not sure that I believe in Heaven—in fact, I’m pretty sure I don’t—but I like to picture Maddie finally shedding her breathing treatments and oxygen tank as her lungs fully inflate with glorious, life-giving oxygen. Then I picture growing to her full 17-month-old size and toddling off to frolic with all the other sweet, sweet children who were taken too soon. It is a happy image, and I hope it’s real. Regardless, Maddie and her parents are forever implanted in my brain and on my heart.

If it is what they want, I hope Heather and Mike will one day decide to give Maddie a sibling. Because people like Heather and Mike are the kind of people who should be parents.

The way my 2009 is going

For lunch today I consumed:

• A Weight Watchers SmartOnes, followed by
• Two (regular) mint chocolate chip ice cream sandwiches
• Two half-glasses of all the remaining wine in our house (Reisling. It was a gift.)

In other updates, Ellie is enjoying daycare immensely but I am still unemployed. So some decisions are going to have to be made.

Back to work then.

Time to start thinking about another baby?

As clearly no BABY lives here anymore!

Rivaling Marley for World's Worst Dog

I just wrote this note for our holiday house sitters and realized how insane (but true) it sounds:

Special Addendum Re: Mandy

Hello,

Just a few words of warning about Mandy: First off, she can climb the spiral staircase (Simon can’t) and may try to sleep with you. Just tell her to “go to bed” and she should retreat back downstairs to the dog bed she shares with Simon.

She also likes to rifle through the trash. Be sure to keep the child lock on the trash in the kitchen at all times or you may come home to a kitchen littered with the contents of the bin. Also, we keep the bins in the downstairs bathroom and master bath on top of the toilet for the same reason. (She also likes to rummage through the Diaper Genies, but that shouldn’t be a problem.)

She loves coffee. If you leave your coffee cup unattended for even a second, she will drink it. She has been known to stand on the toilet to drink it from the bathroom counter.

She can climb and jump to retrieve food off of countertops, which is why we keep the kitchen chairs stacked up (but feel free to unstack and use—just restack before you leave Mandy alone). More than once, she has jumped onto a chair and then either the kitchen table or countertop to steal food.

She loves flavored medicine, which poses a health risk (emergency numbers of side of fridge facing microwave). Examples of things she has eaten in the past year: An entire bottle of Tums (stolen out of my purse), an entire package of cough drops (stolen from the brick mantel in the living room), gum (which can be dangerous for dogs), an entire bottle of Simon’s pain medicine (in a child-proof container on the counter), which landed her on IV fluids in the hospital for two days. She will also dig through bags and purses, so if there is food, gum, or medicine in your bag, put it high up. She will even attempt to steal food out of your hands. A very firm “no” will usually stop her. You might want to keep bedroom doors closed during the day as well.

She is sweet dog and responds well to commands (“No”, “Sit”, “Come”, “Lie down”). She is just full of energy and very, very motivated by food.

If they get to be too much for you, just let me know and I’ll call the dog walker to come take care of them.

Thank you and good luck!

.

Would you still come to my house?

Hooray!

That's it.

Hooray!

It was a howl!

She started out the night as a stereotype--I mean, cheerleader (hey, it was a gift!) (and also my alma mater!) (and also adorable!):

And finished off the evening as a mouse, with stiff competition from a hairy gorilla and a righteous lady bug:

.

PS: NaBloPoMo--shit! I plum forgot this year. I participated the first time but couldn't (or didn't) last year owing to a 6-week-old baby and transatlantic move. However, this year I'd hoped to make up for my sins by posting every day in November. I'll have to think of something else. Damn.

August 10, 2007

My last day of work, five weeks before Ellie was born. I was due back at work in London no later than August 8, 2008. I thought I would never last that long on maternity leave.

Then we moved to Baltimore, where working in my field is not an option, and I realized I kind of liked staying home. Our new life here allowed us to afford it, at least for a while, and the time slipped away from me. I set a new goal at when Ellie turned 1, and that day came and went.

And then one day, in early October, I found myself dying to go back to work. To get a new (or any, really!) haircut, to wear nice(r) clothes, to feel like an adult again really. To make decisions, to write things, to--shoot me now--go to meetings.

At the same time, I felt Ellie was ready for more stimulation than I alone could provide her. She revels in her time with other children, and though we do music classes, swim lessons, and playgroup (each once a week), it's not enough really, for either of us.

I started to feel panicky by the weight of these momentous decisions and then realized that she wasn't even weaned from nursing before nap times yet. When I tried dropping both her nap time feeds at once, I got sick, like I was pregnant. So I dropped one feed and then we went on a trip and the other effortlessly fell away.

I told myself I'd start looking for jobs and childcare once she was down to one nap a day instead of two. And then her two naps started to meld into one long one, and my friends assured me that daycare would take care of her new schedule.

I thought I might wait until she is walking or talking, but she is nearing 14 months now and though full sentences are a ways off, walking is just around the corner. Besides, I think I'll be able to tell if my baby's unhappy without her telling me in so many words.

So I decided to call a daycare I'd heard good things about and try to get on their waiting list. They had an opening on November 1. Nooo, I said, I can't do that. They said they'd take her mid-month and prorate it. I said I'd look at the place but probably pass on the November slot. And then we took a look and loved it with its beautiful water views and two playgrounds (one indoor and one out) and when Ellie said, "Hi! Hi! Hi!" and excitedly clapped her hands every time the door was opened to a new classroom, the deal was sort of sealed.

Yan quickly agreed to the (prohibitively expensive) cost once I explained that she would be in a new, smaller classroom (six kids) and that this way we could ease her in a few hours at a time rather than dropping her off for 40-plus hours per week from the very first.

So, my little girl starts "school" on November 17, and I? I have to find a job during possibly the worst recession of our young lives. I've sent out seven resumes so far and gotten no response (one little nibble for an ad agency that asked to see samples and then promptly lost my number--guess they  weren't impressed). I'm hoping I can dig up some freelance work from a few of my old agencies and a friend has thrown a few small leads my way. I really need to find something full-time but if I can just make a dent in the childcare cost, we'll be in decent shape.

It's kind of amazing to think that I'm blowing up my family's stable little system just so I can indulge myself by going back to work. But I feel like I have to. My big fear is that when Ellie and her (hypothetical) sibling tromps off to college, I will have nothing left. And though I know rationally that this is not true, it is what I want. So, here we go. Jump and a net will appear, yes?

No?

On that note, anybody need a copywriter-for-hire?