Fourteen Blossoms

It was just a little less than a year ago that I purchased the "store" orchid for Baby Ezra. You can refer back sometime in June/July to get the full story.

 Mid winter this year the orchid sent a shoot out of what should have been it's dying stock from the previous years blossoms, the ones that caught my attention that warm summer day in Safeway. I was sort of confused being a fairly new orchid enthusiast, but thought to give the new shoot the attention of a stock that is soon to blossom. Sure enough it began to put on small buds, snowy white, in the months of late winter, first just a handful, then 10, 11, 12, 13....

 Somewhere around blossom 11 or maybe 12 Abe and I began to have the discussion about vasectomy. It has seemed that after each child we would make this consideration, asking ourselves the questions; are we done? family balance? and so on. It seemed that Hazel was a good finish to the child bearing years, a healthy cantankerous little girl, and so Abe began the process of phone calls and appointments that would be the finality of it for us. My job in this process was crying. It just seemed that no matter the number of children I had, the closure of what has been the inception of the most meaningful endeavor (still) my life will ever hold should be mourned. So I did. I gave Abe my full support through blubbering tears, imagining the things I could move on to now that I was done nursing and would be moving into a different stage of mother hood.

 Appointment one, consultation, left Abe feeling slightly unsettled. He tried to text me about it from work and I told him it was a conversation that would have to wait, I needed to HEAR what he was saying. He felt a little presumptuous, possibly we should wait in making such a finite decision. To me the only reason we would not do that is because we were to have another child, so we took a few days to reflect and then each of us wrote our conclusion on a 3x5 card and slid it ever so cautiously across the table to the other. Both cards affirmed that we would have another. I counted the buds on the orchid and thought hmmm? 13 buds and 13 grandkids for Papa and MarMar #grin

 It should be well timed, this pregnancy. Abe's career as an outdoorsman is really picking up, the seasons are specific and if we time things right, everything could work harmoniously. So we thought that time would be our friend, and we would wait carefully and have a baby sometime Spring 2013. Or not! Ooops! pregnant right away. Took a pregnancy test the day after Valentines and it was positive, bad timing for hunting, total surprise. In the mean time the orchid sent out one more tiny little bud, 14. I thought to myself, silly Jess for thinking Ezra's orchid was telling me a story.

 Fast forward to Thursday April 19th. The blossoms on the beautiful pure white orchid have somewhat carried me through these long last days of Winter. I water it and dust the leaves and it sits right in the window where I watch the weather and do the dishes, the last 3 blossoms hanging on to make sure I am fully into Spring and vitamin D bliss. Our appointment to have an ultrasound reveals that I am carrying twins, and 14 blossoms all of a sudden makes perfect sense.

 Sometimes it's difficult to maintain a relationship with Ezra and not feel categorically crazy...and I feel confined by what I know of spirituality, but I'm grateful that my heart remains open, and I get these glimpses of him and God collaborating to love me back. And if that was all not enough, I was caring for this amazing orchid this morning and discovered that it is sending out a new shoot to put out buds this summer in the time of Ezra.

Secret Hiding Spot

I suppose February is no time the better than to get an early start on Spring cleaning, especially when Abe is restless at home and very helpful. We've pretty much rifled through everything in the mysterious basement "cave room" and thrown out several bags of trash and sent several more to the thrift store.

With the spirit of a place for everything, and everything in it's place, I've been putting the top of my closet on my to-do list for a little over a week and this morning the forces that be finally brought me there.

I know damn well whats up there, and no mother should have that stash. I hate that it has collected dust but I also don't care to see it often. It's the reassurance at times that no one believes I did anything malicious. Sometimes it's the tenderness of knowing that so many people were aware of Ezra, his short life and tragic death. Ultimately it's me hanging on to something that try as I may will always be leaving me.

It's three boxes stuffed to the brim with sympathy cards, sympathy I want desperately and hate passionately. It's the one blanket we borrowed from a neighbor in Alaska because he arrived before his box of clothes came from Washington. It's the shirt I wore to his memorial service and the onesie he's wearing in my favorite picture of him and Abe, just days before he died. It's the couple of pairs of socks and a diaper I found stashed in the truck a few weeks after he died. It's a picture Malachi drew trying to remember what it was like to have Ezra here. It's the little green hearts that have an impression of his hand and foot from the hospital and the blanket they wrapped him in to hide the tubes and his green skin so we could hold him longer and say good bye. It's the packets of information on SIDS that declare me a bonafied member that I have yet to even glance over.

We have a phrase in our house that just recently became off limits. The boys use it against me and Abe when they don't like the way things are going and today as I sat there trying to dust the ends of a stack of cards I caught myself..."it's just not fair"....and as I try and sort this out still, going on 5 years later, I think of God and what this all means for me, how hard it is to focus on goodness, and what I'm supposed to make of it and if I can ever forgive myself for a precious baby dying in my care.

But the top of my close is clean. I put a picture of me and Ezra on the mantel and lit a candle. I'm taking the memories to my parents house where I keep a special family trunk with the clothes we kept that Ezra wore and a few other things. It will be all in one place, and I'll keep whats in my heart, and work on it and keep working on it until I find that hope, the one that lets me think there is an end to this and that we will see our Ezra again.

It's actually a good day to do this. My brother is booking our campsites for the 4th annual Ezra camp-out. It feels like it's going to be a heavier year than last. He would be 5, and it seems so big and empty to not have a 5 year old. I can still feel what it would be like to have him here....it would be so full.

One secret revealed, one still being kept.

I love you little boy...
Momma

The Big Bad Wolf

I'm driving myself crazy these days. Being home alone hasn't been much of a problem, actually no problem at all for me, time to do what I want to do. But my mind has been weak and I'm so fearful of everything I can think of lately. I have to find a way to shake it, so here I begin with confession. I'm afraid.

Perhaps it started with my "chasing" episode. I was walking from Rocket back to Sew EZ on my lunch break when fella rolled his window down and cat called me. I gave the obvious "is that directed at me?" glance and disgusted at discovering it was kept walking with my head up and looking straight on, ignoring his insistence that I come to his truck. As I approached the end of the next building to reveal the alley behind, I saw his truck go splashing across and his hand out the window hollering still, "come here!". NO! WAY! At the next corner his truck was quickly approaching me and I yelled at him to leave me alone and that I was not interested that I was married and had a family...his persistence still insisted "no you don't! I know who you are!" and squealed his tires and sped off into the street. Rest assured, my heart is healthy and I can run, sort of. Fear.

I fear the economy and money.
I fear depression and sadness, restlessness.
I fear death or illness with my children or Abe.
I fear death or illness of my parents.
I fear someone causing my household harm.
I fear hopelessness....

I breathe all these fears out, and breathe in

The light of loved ones.
The light of peace, hope and love.
The light of safe shelter and good food.
The light of crafting.
The light of occupation.

Merry Christmas, Baby Ezra

The year after we lost our little Ezra I refused to make a Christmas card. If we weren't a whole family, we could not have family photos, and therefore a Christmas card we typically ordered from Costco would be pointless.

Some how since then I have managed to make a photo card, first finding a way to include him in the photos, and then leaving out his photo...but still including him in the signature.

So this year I made the card. I typed our message in several different fonts, styles, and wordings. I changed our names, and left his out, and added it again, and erased it and put it back several times.

I wrestle with my own mind and emotions. I think about all the people that will look at our card and say something, if even to themselves about how I'm not over it, that women have been dealing with the loss of children for centuries past.

So if you get our card this year, thank you for letting me be just a little crazy still, I think next year I'll be able to sign....


Merry Christmas!
Love,
The Hendersons

and know that he's in there....

To Be Known

One of my very dearest friends has told me before, and she would know, that built into our souls is the desire to be known. I'm feeling that rather intensely lately....I'll blame it on the holidays.

I'm pretty checked out in general. Our schedule is busy and I think I keep it that way mostly because I don't know what else to do. Rather than take charge I have a tenancy to let things fall where they will, I'm not sure what would be better, but I lean toward the previous.

It brought us safely to Thanksgiving which is possibly becoming my least favorite holiday. We celebrated it twice this year with both sides of the family and I managed to land a 24-hour flu on the first one, so even the food was spoiled. My sub-conscience also remembers well the most awful Thanksgiving that was the first holiday after Ezra died and I could not even begin to think about how to be thankful for anything.

What brings down the mood of the festivities for me is the idea of being thankful, and knowing for damn sure what I am not thankful for, and for all the naivety that people are privileged to float along in. I try to focus on the goodness, Abe, Malachi, Josiah and Hazel, my parents and brothers and their families, for jobs and houses and food, for vehicles and crafts. But it all seems to get trumped when I imagine what life would be like with Ezra, and I feel overwhelmed by that side of the story, that four years later it is still bigger than my gratitude.

It's slightly impacted this year. I am in a state of mourning over the near sure end to my childbearing. I remember when Malachi was a baby thinking I could have many children, that I would be a good mother to a big family, that I could handle it. But reality is that at some point it will draw to an end, and what I have felt more passionately about than anything else in life so far will change. Both my sister-in-laws and several friends are pregnant with their 4th baby, another friend is naming her baby Ezra, and I think I just really can't handle it all so gracefully. I suck it up and be strong because that is what I am good at, and then I get to a place where I can cry and suffer the fact that this is all happening at once. I can't keep having babies trying to catch up with the one that I lost. We will always be one short.

Sometimes 4 years seems like an eternity ago, and yesterday all that the same time. When I can't compose myself because I miss him still, I try so hard to stop because it seems like this is getting old, to be missing him. I think the justification for me is in that fact that as we move along in life I'm also mourning all the times and places we don't get to go and spend with him, and it all seems like a good reason to be a little less than thankful.

3027 W. Lacrosse

For two people that try honestly to be fully united, we have a thorn of disagreement that lurks around this time of year...

Our first house was a cute little tuna can in the Audubon Park neighborhood. When we first moved in Abe refinished the antique hardwoods and I made new curtains for all the windows. We made it quaint and homey and felt proud to be owning a home as young married parents. We had room for Malachi and welcomed Josiah into the family while living there.

When we went to Alaska, Seth and Sarah moved into the place and made home. It was a great little place and when we came back from our adventure North to share Ezra with the family we squeezed ourselves right back in with them. It was tight and it was wonderful!

Ezra died there and Abe and I went different directions on what to do with the house. I wanted nothing to do with the house, the space that gave a stage to Ezra's death. I left to the hospital and never stepped a foot back, I imagined feeling the sense of panic and death for the surroundings there and I felt brave about so many things I could handle in life and that was absolutely not one of them.

Abe left for work the afternoon Ezra died and the house was still home, and in the midst of the tragedy he came back to he also lost his place to call home. He very selflessly let my decision be the rule and in the days following he went back and laid down on the floor to cry and mourn the loss of Ezra, and the house that also gave the back drop to the story of his life.

We've been struggling with this and probably will again. Until today I had never even gone so much as to drive by the house, to see the steps I stumbled down to get in the car and drive to the hospital. As we move along in this life, our journey, the things that are the most difficult to face also bring great healing and closure. Wellesley is closed and we've been doing different things to maneuver it's inconveniences. Driving home from mom and dads tonight I was talking to Abe and without much thought drove dangerously close to C street where we would turn to go home 4 years ago, and in the spur of the moment I decided to turn, with little thought and much thought all at once, all the times I've been so close in the last 4 years and decided against it.

The house is still very quaint, and the curtains still hung the same. And I cried big elephant tears and took it in for a few minutes and realized how wonderful it was to live there, and how terrible it is that we don't still, and I missed it and don't want it back.

I am wondering in this the season of Ezra where we will find a sense of home again and I feel a release... that places don't bind us, and we will live well wherever we are.

Baby Boy! I love you in "the cross house" (as it has been affectionately dubbed by Malachi and Josiah) We will do our best in the places we find ourselves on earth.... until the ever after.

Pure White

I told myself the next orchid I acquired would be a pure white one. It's a new found love of mine, previously uninterested in house plants, now cant get enough of them.

We ran into Safeway and right near the door they were having a sale for those of us who are card carrying club members (everyone right?) Anyhow they had several white ones, and the felt cheap and accessible, so I wasn't sure if it was the right one, but I told the boys how I had thought I would want a white one to sit on the shelf where we place the mementos that remind us of our precious baby. So of course they thought it was GREAT timing, and we should get it, and it truly was very beautiful and delicate.

Immediately I had buyers remorse and I thought of all the ways I would explain to Abe why I bought it there instead of from the small local orchid shop, basically excuse myself from the whole purchase. He was very gentle, he liked the idea as well, and we will take to to Erin at Small Hill Orchids to have it re-potted because she was really wonderful.

But that was two nights ago and since then I have become aware of all the ways buying that very orchid makes a lot of sense.

Four years ago July we were in our quaint little apartment in Homer, AK. The one place we felt more alive than anywhere else we have been before and since then. He was there, so pure and delicate, and we know our hearts miss him more intensely during the summer, when he was here. It's July.

The boys attached right away to the same plant. They are possessive little guys and they rarely come to any agreement on things, which is why I got two bright and beautiful new orchids for our anniversary, they each needed to pick one! When I explained to them why we would get white, and the ways it made me think of baby Ezra, they both agreed! It's white.

Abe and I have committed ourselves to doing what we can to support local small business owners. Erin, at the local orchid shop is such an eccentric and gifted plant lady! The 3 orchids I have are from her. So it was a little disappointing to be buying it from Safeway. Back in Homer the only store we had was Safeway, we bought everything from diapers to wooden spoons and of course all food and drinks there. We rented movies and developed pictures all right there at the local hub, with Ezra's car seat nestled down the middle of the cart with our goods tucked here and there around him. It's from Safeway.

And in the last 2 days since I bought the orchid we have had a double rainbow and muggy rain, both reminders of gifts Ezra has sent us in the time after his precious life. And we have been struggling with our emotions, unsure of exactly what is troubling us, and I think today I realize we are living out some of those unspoken, deep in the heart remembrances......and the glimpse of all that it is......and the season of Ezra..........and it's intense and emotional......and I'm really glad I bought the white orchid from Safeway.