Thanks Giving

I am thankful for piles of laundry unfolded and dishes unwashed because they mean I have been too busy snuggling my baby and playing with my 4- year-old to get anything "useful" done.

I am thankful that I get to change 14 dirty diapers a day because it means Rosie is healthy.

I am thankful that Cole is strong-willed because it means he won't let people walk all over him, even though right now it means arguments, tantrums, and time outs.

I am thankful for Rosie's 8:30pm - 10:00pm nightly screaming sessions because I know all too well that some parents never get to hear their babies make a sound.

I am thankful for stretch marks and baby weight because they mean that my body has made miracles - something I do not take lightly when I know so many people who would accept any consequences to their body if it meant they could grow a child.  My changed body shows how hard I worked to bring my three beautiful children into the world, and as much as I'd like to look like the "old me" sometimes, the "new me" is so much stronger and proof of the journey I have traveled.

I am thankful for 4am feedings because I know Rosie is growing.

I am thankful that Cole doesn't like kisses because it makes his freely-given bedtime smooches so valuable.

I am thankful for my tears because they mean I love Molly so much that I miss her with every breath I take.

I am thankful that I don't have time to see The Hunger Games because it means I have a baby that needs me close all the time right now.

I am thankful for Cole's current separation anxiety and dramatic sadness when I leave because it means he loves me enough to want me close all the time.

I am thankful that I miss my parents while they are in Florida for the winter because it means I am lucky enough to have a good relationship with my mom and dad.

And...I am thankful for a husband that works hard for our family, for two happy, healthy kids in my home, for quiet moments cuddling Rosie while she sleeps, for Cole's creativity, humor and sweetness, for a sister who is also my best friend, for a brother who listens to me, for the lessons Molly has taught me, for Cole and Rosie having the chance to grow up close to their cousins, for kind neighbors, for Rosie's new smile and her perfect hands and toes, for Cole saying, "Mama, this is the best party I ever had" after his Winnie the Pooh birthday party, for every time Cole asks to hug his baby sister, and the way Rosie seeks out his voice.

 

For family.  For the family I was born into, the family Brendon and I have made, and the family I have chosen.  Thankful doesn't cut it.  I am so lucky.

"Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude."

~A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

Rosalee Hope Dybdahl

She's here!  After what seemed like the longest 38 weeks and 6 days of my life, our second daughter entered the world pink and healthy and beautiful.  A miracle.  A gorgeous, crying, hungry miracle.  After the silent delivery room we experienced last September, hearing Rosie cry was the most wonderful sound in the world.  She's a pretty noisy little girl unless she's sound asleep.  Even in a light sleep, she grunts a lot and breathes loudly.  I'm grateful she makes so much noise.  If she didn't, I know I would be constantly checking to see if she's breathing, which I still do plenty despite all of her sounds.  The last 2 weeks have been wonderful.  And emotional.  And exhausting.  Overall, we are incredibly happy.  However, as we expected, there have been some very mixed emotions as we brought home one daughter while still grieving another.  I have moments when I feel like being happy that Rosie is here means I'm letting go of Molly a little bit.  Or moments when I cry while I'm nursing Rosie because...well, because I'm hormonal and tired and looking at Rosie makes me wonder what Molly would have looked like at 2 weeks old.  And because I still wish Molly were here.  But then Rosie would not.  And the cycle goes on and on.  Grateful for one, missing the other.  Wishing for both.  As always, grief is confusing.  And grief mixed with so much relief and happiness is even more confusing.  My coping mechanism has been to focus on the positive.  The two kids in my home need my attention more than Molly does.  And when I'm being logical (which is not all that often right now), I know that Molly understands.  She would want me to take good care of her big brother and baby sister.

Speaking of focusing on the positive, how about a birth story?  Since early October, I had been having occasional contractions.  So when I woke up in the early morning hours of October 13th with contractions, I didn't think much of it.  I probably should have thought more of them since they were more regular and painful than I had been experiencing, but I tried to sleep through them.  At some point I fell asleep, and when I woke up I expected the contractions to be gone.  They were not.  But I'm a stubborn girl, so I powered on.  I made pancakes for my family (a little slower than usual with a few breaks to breathe) and insisted that we continue with our plans to go to Eugster's Farm with my sister's family.  By mid-morning, my contractions were consistent, but very short.  My thought was that if I was in labor, I probably had plenty of time before I would deliver.  And I still had a hard time believing I was in labor since I had never gone into labor on my own with either of my two previous pregnancies.  Once we got to the farm, it became more apparent that I was indeed in labor.  We started with a tractor ride, and Deanna and Jake started paying close attention to my contractions.  At that point, they were between 5 and 10 minutes apart, but still fairly short.  They were intensifying, however, and I knew we wouldn't make it for very long at the farm.

The last pic of my baby belly.  38 weeks and 6 days.

After the tractor ride, the kids ate lunch and watched a puppet show.  It became clear very quickly that Brendon and I needed to leave.  My contractions were getting stronger and I was feeling a lot of low pressure.  After kissing Cole good-bye and listening to him cry because he wanted to come with us, Brendon and I walked as quickly as I could to the car.  Deanna kindly took some wonderful photos of Cole after we left to reassure us that he was fine almost instantly after we were out of sight.  She made us a lovely book for Rosie entitled "On the Day That You Were Born" full of photos from the farm and hospital photos.

I love this one.  To me it looks like he is bathed in light from Molly.

We arrived at the hospital at 1:30pm.  Once there, everything moved very quickly.  While in triage, we learned that I was 6 cm dilated.  I was shocked!  And thrilled.  Things were moving, my body had gone into labor on its own, and Rosie's heartbeat was nice and strong.  On the walk to our Family Birth Suite we saw the nurse who had been with us for most of my labor with Molly.  It was wonderful to see Nurse Joy.  We know that Molly's delivery affected the nurses who took care of us, and it was nice to share some happiness with them.  Once in the Family Birth Suite, my body took over.  Things started changing and moving along incredibly fast.  I had planned to try to deliver without medication, partially because medications complicate VBACs, and partially because I was taking a blood thinner called Lovenox during my pregnancy which can cause complications with epidurals.  I did indeed deliver with no medication, but even if I had wanted some, I don't think there would have been time.  (And now that I have gone through this process 3 different ways - C-section, labor with some medication, and a completely natural delivery - I have a new respect for drugs.  I am proud of the way I delivered Rosie, but if we decide to have a fourth child, I fully intend to get some pain relief.)  At 4:34pm, 3 hours after arriving at the hospital and after less than 30 minutes of pushing, Rosalee Hope Dybdahl entered our lives.

7 pounds 13 ounces of pink, healthy, warm Baby Girl

 

Desperately trying to scratch her face.

Early on in my pregnancy, Cole named this baby Rosie.  We aren't completely sure where it came from, but he either named her after a train from Thomas and Friends, a horse from an episode of Franklin, or Caillou's little sister.  Brendon and I have a hard time coming up with names for our babies, so we decided to let Cole's suggestion stick.  It was also important to me to name her early so that I could differentiate this pregnancy from Molly's.  It helped to be able to call her Rosie from 19 weeks gestation, although I'm not going to lie and pretend I never slipped in my head and called her Molly.  Her given name is Rosalee to honor my Grandpa Leroy Dahlen, and my Dad and Brendon's Mom, both who happen to have the middle name of Lee.

Three hours after Rosie was born, Cole came to the hospital to meet his youngest sister.  He brought along Deanna, Jake, his four cousins, and Nana and Poppy.  It was a bit overwhelming to have such a big visit a few hours after giving birth, but we really wanted Cole to come and meet Rosie as soon as possible.  And after waiting so long for this baby, I couldn't bring myself to ask everyone else to wait a day.  If I had, I'm pretty sure James's head would have exploded.

And then less than 48 hours later, we were home.

We are adjusting pretty well to once again having an infant in our home. It's completely different than having only one child at home.  When Cole was a baby, we held him all the time and probably didn't leave the house all that much.  We hold Rosie as much as we can, but it's obviously a lot more challenging with an older child who wants lots of attention.  This lends itself to lots of Mommy guilt, which I'm trying to let go of as much as possible.  I'm exhausted, which doesn't help my emotional state, but still so grateful.  Even through my exhaustion, I know that Rosie is Hope realized.  And, oh, she's just so yummy right now.  I want to soak in every ounce of her newborn deliciousness while I can.

Welcome to the world, Rosalee Hope!  We waited a long time for you.  You are absolutely a well-loved baby.  We are so happy and relieved to have you safe in our arms.  We promise to take good care of you.

It was the tiniest thing I ever decided to put my whole life into.
~ Terri Guillemets

Molly's First Birthday

We've officially made it a year.  On the one hand, I can't believe it's only been a year.  On the other, how can we have survived an entire year without Molly?  I've said from the beginning how strange grief is.  How grief plays tricks on my mind.  Hitting the year mark is no exception.  I felt extremely sad on some of the days approaching Molly's Day, but on her actual birthday, I felt ok.  Surprisingly, fairly happy.  I know it helped that I planned pretty meticulously what her day would hold.  There wasn't much time for sitting around and letting my mind wander.  The days leading up to September 9th were less planned, but just as busy.

On Saturday, September 7th, Cole asked if we could go to the zoo.  Normally, I love taking him to the zoo.  On this day, I dreaded it.  Last year on September 7th, Cole and I also went to the zoo.  I remember walking around and hoping it would help me go into labor.  Because on that day, I thought Molly was still alive.  She may have been, but I'm not sure.  It was that evening when I realized I hadn't felt her move in a while.  It was basically the last "normal" day of my life, the last day before my world cracked in half, the last day before I had a before and an after.  So, I wasn't looking forward to a zoo trip on Saturday.  But the thing about stubborn, strong-willed 3-year-olds is that they don't care that the zoo might not be the healthiest or happiest place for their Mama to spend the day.  So, off we went.  I spent the first 45 minutes of our time at the zoo sitting on a bench outside the Herpetarium.  Not my favorite building, but it is Cole's.  While Cole and Brendon looked at animals I don't even want to write about, I people watched.  Talked to my sister on the phone.  Cried.  Thought about how different my life was a year ago.  Finally (FINALLY!) my boys emerged from their mini-adventure, and I decided to enjoy the day as best as I could.  We walked.  We saw animals.  Cole and Brendon rode the train and the carousal while I took pictures.  It was an ok day.  I was sad, but functioning.  I didn't weep all day, but the people who passed me as I sat on the zoo bench probably were a little curious about me.

Saturday the 8th was a day I was dreading.  The 8th marks the day that we found out Molly's heart was no longer beating.  The day we left the hospital, still pregnant, but devastated.  The day we returned to the hospital because of a panic attack.  The day we started Molly's induction.  I expected to feel horrible on the 8th.  I expected sadness and anger.  But, again, my confusing companion Grief had other plans.  I woke up on Saturday feeling fine.  We had planned on taking Cole to the beach or on the train ride in New Freedom.  However, Cole's cousins were going to Little Amerricka.  My sister had invited us a week ago, but I initially said no.  We went to Little Amerricka last year shortly after Molly died because we were trying to keep moving and do fun, kid things with Cole, despite feeling like crawling in a hole.  I was nervous that if we went to Little Amerricka on the 8th this year, I would have been bombarded with too many yucky memories to handle.  However, since I felt ok that morning, we presented Little Amerricka as an option to Cole.  I fully expected him to choose the New Freedom train, but Cole chose Little Amerricka.  So off we went.  And it turned out to be a pretty wonderful day.  When we got out of the car, Cole was so excited.  Shockingly excited.  Un-Cole-like excited.  Right away he said he wanted to go on the roller coaster, but changed his mind a little while later.  So he started on the firetrucks, helicopters, train ride, and cars.

After a full afternoon of rides, Brendon decided to try one last time to get Cole on the roller coaster.  And somehow, it worked.  The magic of Dada.

Before...

During...

After!  No Tears!

Cole's response to the roller coaster:  It was fun, and scary, and he liked it, and he would do it again, but not today.  And it made his face do this:

 And then to continue the theme of "shockingly adventurous," he also went on the Ferris Wheel. 

Cole was surprisingly brave.  If you know our son, you know that bravery and trying new things are not his strong suits. Which tells me that Molly was there giving him a little nudge.  It wasn't a perfect day - there was a bit of a meltdown at the end, and my mind occasionally wandered to how the day would be different if Molly were there, but overall, a much better day than I ever could have planned or hoped for.

Then we arrived at September 9th.  Molly Day.  Again, I didn't know how I'd feel, but I did have a hunch that the anticipation of the day would be worse than the day itself.  And it was.  We got up "early" (for Cole, changing out of his pj's anytime before 10am is early) to go to my 34 week prenatal appointment.  After a look at baby #3 and being told that she looks great, we headed to Vilas Park.  This park is right next to the zoo and has benches that are engraved by the Compassionate Friends organization with names of children of any age who have died.  Molly's name was added in May, but for some reason, we never went to see it.  It felt appropriate to stop by on her birthday and check it out.  I was happy to see Molly's name nuzzled between two babies whose Mom's I have come to call my friends.  There are so many things I am unsure of in all of this, but I have no doubt in my mind that these babies are Molly's friends, and they all helped me meet some wonderful women I never would have met otherwise.

I'm grateful her name is close to Frank and Samantha

After the park, we went out for lunch, and then headed to Party City to buy 20 yellow balloons for our small balloon release.  This is what Cole and Brendon did at the store while I was getting the balloons:

Brendon is pretty certain he had the same mask as a kid.

In my mind, 20 balloons would look lovely floating up into the clouds.  I didn't exactly think through how 20 balloons would look stuffed into Brendon's car.  The whole process was quite funny, due in part to a very illogical employee at Party City who thought that it would be best to string 10 trash bags (each containing 2 balloons) together for me to carry to the car.  When I got to the car, I couldn't figure out which bag to remove first.  It was one of those moments when I literally didn't know what to do, but I also knew that if I was watching someone else struggle with this problem, I would have been laughing.  Luckily, with the help of a different Party City employee, we got the bags apart without any floating away and fit all the balloons and Cole in the car.  And luckily, Cole thought it was funny to be smothered in balloons. 

When we got home, our extremely kind and generous neighbors Wendy and Marcus came over to take some family photos of us by Molly's Garden.  I don't have a plan for what I'd like to do with any of these photos, but it felt important to take a family photo on this day.  We will always remember Molly's first birthday as a day that should have been so different.  But it was also a day to recognize how far we have come in this past year. 

Cole snuggling the bear we were given when we left the hospital a year ago.

 

Deanna, Jake, James, Ella, Tommy, and Tess came over for dinner, cupcakes, and our balloon release. The kids all loved playing with the balloons beforehand, to the point where we had to foreshadow several times that the balloons were going to float into the sky and not come back.  We ended up keeping a few balloons in our house to avoid too much sadness.

 After a dry run in the house, we all held tightly onto our balloons and headed outside.

"One, two, three, Happy Birthday, Molly!"  Then, we let our balloons float up into the sky. (click here for video)

The kids then ran into the front yard to follow the balloons.  We could see them for a minute or two before they disappeared.  Beforehand, there were a lot of questions, particularly from Tommy and Cole about why we were letting the balloons float away.  Deanna and I answered them as best as we could, and we were both relieved that both boys were entertained and not sad watching the balloons float away.  Then it was time for cupcakes.  When I think of first birthdays, I always think of mushed up cake and frosting everywhere.  Since Molly wasn't here to do it herself, Tess helped out.

Before my sister took her kids home, she took the "left behind" balloons and wrote Molly's name on them.

 

After Cole went to bed, Brendon and I took these last five balloons outside.  We lit candles by the garden and let the balloons go.  It was nice to do something just the two of us to end the day.

So, overall, we had quite a nice day celebrating Molly.  We talked about our girl, but it didn't feel as sad as I expected.  It felt like a hopeful day.  While we were eating cupcakes, Deanna asked the kids what they were hopeful for.  James said he was hopeful that our new baby "will be born healthy and learn to play soccer."  Ella said that she hopes our new baby "plays sports."  Tommy simply said that he hopes the new baby gets to stay here and play with us instead of going to heaven.  Cole hopes "the cupcakes turn into grapes and then strawberries and then bananas (lots of laughter)."  I have lots of hopes.  I hope Molly feels how much we love her.  I hope she still reveals herself to Cole every once in a while.  I hope I can somehow find a way to help our new daughter connect with Molly.  And just like Tommy, I hope hope hope this new baby arrives safely into our arms to stay.

All throughout Molly's Day, Brendon and I both received e-mails, texts, Facebook messages, and cards in the mail providing us with support.  In the evening, we started to see photos of candles our friends and family had lit in Molly's honor.  Thank you from the bottom of our hearts to all of you who supported us and remembered Molly with us yesterday, as well as every day.  We will never be able to tell you how much it means to us that Molly is in your hearts, too. 

I think September will always bring some sadness and challenging days for our family.  It will always be hard to watch kids go back to school and know that there is a little girl missing from the bunch.  It will always be sad to celebrate Molly's birthday without her.  But I know now that it won't be as sad as I expect it to be.  It is still a day of celebration, a day of accomplishment for our family, a day of hope.  A day to do special things for our first daughter.

Happy Birthday, sweet Molly.  We know you were with us yesterday, just as you are every day.  And until we are together again, we will continue to celebrate you on your day and every day.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) 
i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
~ e.e. cummings