Jan. 25 - Some Firsts

Jonathan is spending his first day at Carol's house for daycare today. I brought him there for an hour-long visit the last couple of Wednesdays to help him become familiar with the kids and the setting. He didn't seem too sure what to think of all the kids at first, but was excited to talk about them afterward, so I think he'll enjoy himself there. In fact, when I was getting him ready for bed last night, I told him that when he woke up, we'd go to Carol's house and he could spend all day playing with the toys and the kids, and he said, "Kids. Yeh!" Hopefully he'll have as much fun as he was expecting. I'll be eager to hear how things go. We packed his Thomas the Tank Engine backpack today, instead of his diaper bag, because he feels like a big kid, like his cousin Tyler, when he gets to bring that someplace.

Now he'll go to Carol's Mondays and Tuesdays, stay home with me on Wednesdays, and then visit his aunt Jean on Thursdays and Fridays. That was the original plan before everything happened with Garrett, and we decided to stick with it, since it's probably good for Jonathan to spend some time with other kids his age. Jean is absolutely wonderful with him though (I honestly couldn't ask for anyone better to nurture and love him while we're at work), and he adores her, so we didn't want to switch him entirely to a different provider. Plus he gets to see his uncle Jerry, aunt Pam and other family members at Jean's house sometimes, and I don't want him to miss out on those visits either.

Jerry got to witness another one of Jonathan's firsts yesterday when Jonathan got orange Play-Doh stuck in his nose! Jerry and I were both at the kitchen table when it happened, so I'm not sure how he managed to sneak it in there, but it was definitely a job to get out. We tried to have him to blow it out, but I don't think he really understands the concept yet. Either that, or he hasn't mastered the coordination necessary to do it yet.

He was pretty cooperative in letting me remove the blob that was already near his nostril, but I had to use tweezers to grab a few other big chunks. He managed to shove enough in there to nearly lose some up in that deeper cavity though, and as he fussed, I began to worry that he'd inhale it even farther. By the time we were working on that, Jerry was restraining his hands and I was trying to hold his head still, but he was not enjoying it, and with all his squirming I was afraid those tweezers would end up lodged in his nose too. Thankfully, I didn't have to wonder for too long whether Play-Doh might simply dissolve in the mucus before he happened to snort it out with one of his frustrated grunts.

Those are plenty of firsts for now, though. I'm hoping the rest of the week is rather low key.

Jan. 20 - Jonathan Videos

Jonathan really enjoys singing and dancing these days. "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes," is a particular hit, but we'll also catch him stomping around the house and swinging his arms as he's "giant stepping for Blue's clues." Boy, if I had as much energy as that little guy, I'd lose my extra baby/worry weight in no time.



After his bath last Saturday, he spent nearly a half hour goofing around in front of the mirror "giant stepping for Blue's clues" and asking, "Where?! Where's the clue? Where? Where's a clue? Where? Where? Where? Wha-wha-ra-ra-ra-ra!"



He sure keeps us entertained. And he finds himself rather amusing, too. Any time he catches us sitting at the computer, he hustles over to watch movies of himself. "More pictures Jonathan!"And he doesn't take no for an answer very graciously, either. Those are the times when good distracting skills are critical.

Jan. 13 - One Month Later

Monday marked one month since Garrett passed away. Now we've had more time without him than with him, and I'd say we're fairly well back into the old normal routine. But I still think about him when I head to bed, when I wake up in the middle of the night, and first thing in the morning ... Day-to-day responsibilities seem to do a good job of filling most of my waking hours, but he still has a good hold on my thoughts when the house is quiet and I should be sleeping.

I even had a dream the other night that I was back at Saint Marys' PICU visiting four babies who were all being treated for their vein of Galen malformations. One of the babies was six months old, and I was sure she was going to make it. But as I held her and stroked her peach-fuzz hair, I still cried for her -- knowing everything she had to go through, knowing that the blessing of her living many more years came with the question of how much her quality of life would be compromised.

This week, our normal morning bus driver, Jerry, was back from vacation. He's a charismatic, sociable guy who wished me well before my maternity leave, so I was sure he'd ask how the baby was doing when he greeted me again. Even though I had run through the scenario in my head beforehand and tried to prepare a response ("He's dancing with Jesus in heaven," maybe? Or something about being in a better place?), I couldn't find anything to say when he asked. A fumbling-for-words, "Uhhhh ..." was all that came out. He tried to help with, "Growing?" That would make sense. A two-month-old baby would normally be growing like a weed. I didn't have time to think. I had to keep the line moving, so I just muttered a "Yeah" as I shuffled past and headed to my seat. Obviously that's wrong. He's not growing. But what was I supposed to say? "No, not exactly"?

Thankfully, having been back at work for a week and having already had a couple encounters with people who didn't know Garrett's story, the well-intentioned question didn't evoke an emotional response -- just befuddlement as to what to say. I had some extra memorial folders from Garrett's service in my purse and jotted down a note before handing one to Jerry as I left the bus, saying something like, "This does a better job of answering about the baby." I felt bad doing it. How is a person supposed to take that? It must be like getting a punch in the stomach. I'm sure I ruined his day, but I wanted him to know.

I'm such a chicken. I don't have a problem talking about it with someone who already knows, but I just can't bear to share the news in person. I can't stand to watch as the other person's heart breaks, because then mine dissolves again all over.

But oddly enough, while I don't want to witness it, I don't mind hearing about people's reactions afterward. I don't take joy in the saddness it causes others, but there's some comfort in knowing I'm not grieving alone. And, in a way, experiencing it from other perspectives makes it more complete. Maybe it takes me out of my own grief for a while to see how deeply other people have been affected.

Jan. 10 - I just have to say ...

I just have to say thank God for insurance! With all of the tests, procedures, medicine and time involved with Garrett's care at Saint Marys, I've been wondering what the total charges would be. Well, the statement came this week ... coincidentally, on the same day Garrett's death certificate arrived. I had already been thankful for insurance covering most of the expenses related to Garrett's delivery and ER visits in Wabasha, as well as all of the $9,200 helicopter ride to Rochester, so I was just waiting to see what whopping figure would have us appreciate our insurance all the more.

What we'll be responsible for from Garrett's delivery and our initial hospital stay is already close to the "family maximum" out-of-pocket, so what we'll owe for his stay at Saint Marys should be just a teeny, insignificant portion of the over $300,000 in claims pending. Again, THANK GOD FOR INSURANCE! Simply seeing that figure, even though I knew it was almost entirely covered, nearly made me keel right over. I can understand how one health crisis is all it takes to financially destroy a family. I can't even fathom what we would do if we had to add that to our troubles.

I added the papers to the pile of statements we've received and thought about what it all encompassed. The thick stack kind of summarizes Garrett's short life in a way, representing all that was involved with his birth and treatments, all the effort nurses and doctors put forth, all the things that should have produced a healthy, happy little boy -- and unfortunately, we have no baby to show for it. But I guess it all gave him one month with us, if not a lifetime, and I'm still grateful for that time we had together.

Jan. 5 - Back to Work

The first day back to work seemed to go all right. I decided to take the bus, and was grateful the -4 temperature kept people from lining up ahead of time (no line means no time to chat). I'm keeping my old schedule of being off on Wednesdays, so we'll see what Thursday will bring.

I don't plan on taking Jonathan sledding today (it's still too cold, in my book) but here are some pictures of him with Chris from a couple weeks ago when it was a little warmer outside. Jonathan seemed to enjoy it, until he decided he'd had enough and was ready to come inside (last picture).

Jan. 4

I'll be heading back to work tomorrow. Oh, how I hope I don't have anyone ask me how the baby is doing ... I think work should be pretty safe, but I'm not so sure about the bus stop. Maybe I'll just drive in instead and take the bus Thursday.