one last time

Dear musubi,
i went to water your tree and cut fresh flowers for your room in my favorite vase to put on your bookshelf when the paint is done drying. mommy and daddy really need your strength this week. we went to pick you up from the hospital on wed. we drove to the funeral home and followed dave back to the hospital to the back entrance. you were too special for their normal entrance. we were not allowed to go into the hospital and get you ourselves, but we waited in the car and watched dave carry you carefully from the back entrance to his car. you were so small and he had you wrapped in a baby blue blanket. i had to let you know that we were there for you, just like in the NICU and we didn't want you to be scared. we followed dave in our car back to the funeral home to hold you one last time.

we sat in the back of the funeral home, in a closed off area and when dave brought you to us i just started to heave with sadness. remember what mommy wrote you, that my tears are filled with love and joy for you? mommy and daddy both wrote you letters to read to you and daddy also wrote you a thank you card for taking care of me. didn't i tell you that you have the best daddy in the world? he said that he was glad that you were a son, because sons always take care of their mommies.

i always think about the vows i wrote to you. i tried to sing the song that was always my hope for you, and i could barely get through reading the lyrics. i think about the last cheer that daddy had for you in the NICU when i was still in the delivery room: "go musubi, go go musubi, fight musubi, fight, fight musubi, breathe musubi, breathe breathe musubi, live musubi, live live musubi."

we held you so close. just like in the hospital i held you close to my heart so that you could hear my heart beat for you. you were so tiny, so beautiful just like i remember. your perfect tiny head cradled in my palm. i wanted to envelope you in my arms, in my soul forever. that night when daddy wrote his letter to you, he sat in your room with tears streaming down his face. there were so many things he wanted to do with you when you grew up, so many things we painfully miss that we never got to share with you.

i wore the scarf you picked out for me when we were in palo alto and i brought the memory box that auntie kathy made for us. i filled it with cards from your grandparents, an orchid flower from the plant that uncle juice gave to us and the tea that auntie christine sent to us for mother's day. i brought cards that people sent us and read to you all people who love you and made contributions to the hospital for taking such good care of us. i brought you to the window so that you could feel sunlight on your face, since it was cloudy the last time i saw you.

in my letter to you, i wrote that I never knew that I could hurt and love so deeply, and in the 24 weeks and 3 days that you were with us, you taught me so much with your life and in your death. You taught me the true meaning of life, love, family and motherhood. auntie vera said that having you in my life has made me realize what a wonderful mother i want to be and can be. And that you succeeded in giving me a higher purpose in life. “Such a lofty aspiration for a wee one. :)” she wrote. auntie vera knew you were here before i ever said anything to anyone. besides brian, she probably saw you the most.

i will keep the cards and letters to you safe for you in your box in your room.

as we were holding you, the feather song from forrest gump that was in our wedding came on. it was the song that we chose to play when your grandmother's lit the unity candle. i haven't heard that song since our wedding. it was as if you were letting us know that it was ok to let go, that you were always going to be a part of this family. it was then when we felt that it was ok to give you back to dave. dave was going to help us take you home and we knew we had to treasure one last hug, one last kiss on your soft hair, and one last moment with you.

musubi,
when i see something beautiful, i’ll always think of you.
When i need your strength, i’ll always think of you.
When i can love another as much as i love you, i’ll always think of you.
i will look and appreciate life through your eyes and promise to take care of our family.

i always think about how you've changed our lives...musubi, did you know that we tried our best?

NOTHING, NO ONE can every replace you. thank you for inspiring me with your beauty, your grace, your love and your courage. your name has a part of Daddy and me in it and we will always be with you. we will always be cheering you on, “go Musubi, go, go Musubi, grow Musubi, grow, grow Musubi.” mommy is so proud of you--you are truly magnificent and brave. you will always be our first son, forever missed and always loved.
- posted by Y. @ 1:46 PM

 
carmel

we survived the weekend. we left for carmel friday night and just made it to dinner for our 8pm reservations. this was the first meal we've had together at a restaurant since everything has happened. it felt awkward, surreal, like we shouldn't be enjoying this meal- and i'm not sure if we really could. i guess i could have had a glass of wine, but it tasted awful. brian finished it for me. we were grossly under-dressed in our jeans at the restaurant and our moroseness was palpable against people celebrating anniversaries and engagements around us. it was a quiet dinner and we were both exhausted from it all. back in our room, i unpacked all my books on grieving and neonatal death and we both started reading our books. i remember when i had the fertility awareness book, and when we were reading our pregnancy books how different we felt then.

i had booked us massages in the morning and i'll never forget that experience. we cried through our 80 min massages and we were so drained by the end. the music was somewhat sad, and it was if they were trying to massage the grief and pain out of our muscles. we snotted our way through those massage and i went into the wet sauna to release the rest of my grief, startling myself with how loud my sobs echoed in the eucalyptus chamber.

we headed into town for lunch and then to my favorite jewelry store. i knew i was going to be emotional, but we went there anyways. i had always admired their jewelry since we came to this store during our engagement weekend, and brian was already cued into giving me a push gift from this store years ago. i was looking at a pair of earrings and then asked if they were open on sundays, since about half the stores in carmel are closed on sundays. the women who was helping me said, yes we are open on mother's day and asked if i was a mother. my face shattered in an instant and i was done. we left the store and went back to move the car. we later went back to the sister store and found a pair of beautiful earrings that brian and musubi got for me for mother's day. each earring has 12 tiny diamonds surrounding the stone, 24 in total, 1 for each week musubi was alive. they are tiny - just like musubi, our "'lil guy" said brian.

we had dinner at casanovas and headed back to our hotel, back to our reading. we were both exhausted. this was the first full day out for me and engaging in the real world is draining. we lie in bed and talk to musubi and let the tears pool into our ears and drain onto the pillow.

sunday we packed and checked out of our hotel. we stopped by wagon wheel in carmel valley for breakfast and headed out to point lobos for a hike. point lobos is our happy place, filled with memories of our engagment and we go whenever we are down in carmel. it was drizzling in the morning but had stopped by 11am. we headed down south on the path and headed up the coast this time, and of course the seascape never fails to startle us with its beauty. Anything beautiful always reminds me of our son. we saw sea lion moms with their pups and as i watched the tides ebb and flow from the shore i was reminded that nothing can stop nature. nature has its course and you'll never win if you try to fight it. like trying to hug the wind, or holding water with your hands...you'll never win.

we trekked for over 3 hours and then headed back into town for a late lunch. we walked around town and although most of the stores were closed, we found an open cafe and got a latte to go for the trip back home. i didn't want to leave. i didn't want to go back. i didn't want to go back to the place where musubi was everywhere, in every thought, in every action. i miss him so much. like brian says. it's not happy mother's day. it's just mother's day.
- posted by Y. @ 11:34 AM

 
us minus one

i can't watch live tv. it's too upsetting. every other commercial is a mother's day commercial and it's as if the world is rubbing sea salt into my wound. the doctor's visit was difficult. i exploded at the counter when the receptionist opened up my file to check me in and i saw all our future appointments in her book. but that was nothing compared to when the nurse asked me if i was still breast-feeding. everything about the exam room was off and i couldn't stop staring at the floor. it was the only appointment i've been to without brian, and without musubi. i felt very alone.

it was probably my longest appt with dr. wong, as i had questions about the placenta report, the infection, perinatologists, pre-conception books and nutrition, birth spacing, etc. i had to stay sane, i had to stay focused. i had to make it home safely without driving like the mental case that i am. apparently the bleeding and the abdominal pain i'm having is my period. i couldn't believe it. i had looked it up online as to when to expect your next period, and most sites said 5-6 weeks. i guess like everything else, my body does things early. during the car ride home, i asked musubi if this was a sign. if he wanted to let me know that he wanted brothers and sisters sooner than later and that he knew that i had to wait at least 3-6 cycles before trying again, so he made this happen sooner rather than later. i'll need to check with dr. druzin in june when i see him on my physical condition as i continue to work on my emotional and psychological states.

every night i grab a stack of tissues from the box by brian's nightstand and move some over to my side of the bed. last night brian told me about the NICU experience when he was there without me. i asked if musubi was kick, kick, kicking in the NICU and he said he was, just like he had in my body. brian told me that at first musubi was strong enough to grip his finger, how amazing that felt, and that he was able to give his musubi cheer to him in person. "go musubi, go, go, musubi, grow musubi, grow, grow musubi." even though i wasn't there, i could see this in my mind's eye, i could hear brian's voice and feel his heart beat out of his chest as he encouraged musubi to stay strong and fight. he said that musubi did look like he was pain, and that he looked like he wanted to cry, but no sounds could come out from his underdeveloped lungs. i can't imagine how that must have hurt brian to watch helplessly on the side.

i asked brian if we could visit his granny in daly city next wed, after we take musubi out from the hospital. i never had a chance to meet her, but i know brian is who he is because of her, and i would like the chance to thank her for taking care of brian and musubi.

brian said last night that it will always be "us minus one". no matter what, we will always have a minus one.
- posted by Y. @ 11:58 AM

 
Lord Byron's She Walks in Beauty interpreted

You’re born with beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in your aspect and your eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er your face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

When your eyes close, forever rest
Hearts break and strangled with each breath
For too much beauty was witnessed
Fleeting, before the time of death
Your true love kept with mine abreast
Entwined in our lives’ empty path

One day the more, one day the less
Does not matter, for love still grows
Mem’ries which we sweetly caress
Pale to compare with grief it knows
Tears collide and as we confess
How lovelorn we are, in our souls

But.

You’re born with beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of love and light
Meet in your aspect and our eyes:
Thus radiant to that tender light
Our brave hope for you never dies
- posted by Y. @ 10:22 AM

 
strangling grief

this week has not been good. this would have been a milestone week for musubi. 28 weeks, halfway there...i had to call the mortuary and speak to them about the logistics for picking musubi up from the hospital, taking him back to the chapel and the crematorium. i asked what to expect and dave from the mortuary said that musubi will most likely be in a little bag. that comment silenced me and converted whatever language i was speaking in into sobs.

i decided over the weekend, that i wanted to be there. that i didn't want musubi to be with strangers when he left the hospital and although i feel like i'm torturing myself, i know that i want one last chance to physically be with him again. brian will take the day off to be there with me, and i know he's going to be there to support me, because he's at peace with our goodbyes at the hospital when we left in april. brian is right, having musubi cremated is one step further in our goodbye, another jab at our breaking hearts with the permanence of this loss.

i try so hard to be strong for brian and musubi. i know musubi wants me to take care of myself for brian. that's why i made a doc appt today. i started to have lower abdominal pains on monday and started bleeding again. hopefully everything is ok.
- posted by Y. @ 12:34 PM

 
i had a good life

i didn't get out of bed until 4pm on sat. it was brian's mom's bday dinner at his parent's house. brian said that i didn't have to go and i didn't know what was worse. to stay home by myself, to have brian stay home with me and miss his mom's bday, or to go and try to be human. i got dressed in the same non-pajama clothes i've been wearing for the last 4 weeks and we went. i said 4 words that night: "i'm sorry" and "happy birthday".

sunday was a blur. brian had a tennis match in the city and needed to get his hair cut, and i didn't want to be alone, so i went with him into the city. it was the earliest i've gotten out of bed in weeks. he dropped me off at friend's house and we went for a silent walk by ocean beach. i remember when i lived in the sunset going to ocean beach and throwing rocks/shells into the ocean as a release. i remember being so upset after a breakup and consoling myself with the notion that the timing was off. that as long as we were both alive that there would be hope. i remember thinking this along the ocean with the raw realization that musubi is dead, so there's no hope.

this is going to come across as ungrateful, but all i could think of this past weekend was that i had a good life, and now i have a dead son. i had a good life.... i say this out loud now and then, and when brian hears this, he reminds me that i still have a good life, and i try so hard to emotionally relate to this, and i can't, because now i have to live my life with loss. i don't a satisfying explanation for what happened and i don't have a choice. i guess i was so lucky before to not know such pain.

brian continues to be a big walking heart. he tells me how amazing it felt to be a daddy, even if it was only for a little while. he tells me how lucky he is to have me in his life.

i didn't have an appetite for most of this weekend. he heated up some food and brought it upstairs to the bed. he was really sad and asked how come i eat for my mom, but i don't eat for him? so i opened my mouth and ate.
- posted by Y. @ 1:14 PM