Things with my first had started to become manageable. We had just gotten through a long, boring period of house hunting, packing and moving, followed immediately by a couple months of unpacking and raking leaves. I rather enjoyed the freedom to rake for hours by myself with occasional company in the unfamiliar new lawn. I got pregnant first in January 2010, and enjoyed breaking the news to a few close friends and family. My in-laws - Andy, Estee and sister-in-law Jenn, and her daughters came to visit shortly after we found out. I was able to watch the kids play in the snow and then nap in the afternoon - with Zach and Sarah in relative peace. Zach still napped in those days.
I miscarried during a blizzard at 7 weeks. If my doctor's office had been open it would have been a non-event but due to the weather I spent 3 hours driving around to get myself to a hospital, dropping Zach off in Malden along the way, as Josh was in California. This was followed by weeks of blood tests - routine but inconvenient. Then a trip to Key West, where I came home pregnant again. Happy news, of course, except for her poorly-planned December due date.
Pregnancy with a 3-year-old was definitely less relaxing than pregnancy with no children. The pains were greater than the first time, I got fatter faster, and received no sympathy from the small person who still wanted me running after and carrying him around.
Then Jenn died. With only about 10 days notice. I mostly forgot I was pregnant during those long days - at least forgot the discomfort, but used the long hours in the hospital to try and think up a name, not daring to think about the possibility of using hers. That was July. I had fully come to understand why pregnant women didn't like long car trips but continued taking them.
In September my mother became irrational -- she started calling me at work asking how to log into her email account, and not understanding any of the instructions I gave her -- and in October her doctor pronounced her as done with cancer treatments - ready for hospice care. Thanksgiving came and I was too pregnant to go anywhere, too pregnant to enjoy the time off, waiting to just be done, and having panic attacks at the thought of being left home alone with a newborn plus Zach, who didn't entertain himself for more than 15 minute intervals.
Alisha came, thankfully induced on a Friday, when Sharona could watch Zach followed by 2 weekend days with the Wades. And yes, she was named after Jennifer - her Hebrew name. Home for just over a week, then packed up all our baby stuff and family and headed to Maryland and Virginia for Christmas week. The rest of my maternity leave was long and not relaxing at all. I backed my car into a truck parked in the driveway and toured preschools for Zach, and kept myself covered up nursing at home due to the parade of contractors who were on site building Josh's garage. I went back to work earlier than planned.
Alisha and I traveled twice together to Virginia to see my mother, plus 2 more road trips south with Josh and Zach before she lost her fight, Memorial Day weekend. Of course, it was on the day that I had decided we needed a break for a more normal family trip - north, to Storyland in New Hampshire. Terry called after we'd finished breakfast and then I made Josh break the news to Zach, that we weren't going to Storyland, Grandma Marjorie had died and we were going to be driving 15 hours south.
Terry and Tim have reminded me that I need to make sure I die before the rest of my family now. I'm not sure how you recover from the sort of a loss they - or Sydney, Sarah, Estee or Andy have endured.
But Zach has just learned to take care of himself. He can put on his own shoes and sweatshirt now without a fight. And manage his toilet needs by himself. So, no more urgent wails interrupting my quiet moments nursing Alisha because he's pooped. This really is a big deal, trust me. And we've had time together to take on making noodles from scratch, paper mache jelly fish, and he has just been allowed to pick up his sister and carry her around the house.
Alisha used to smell like baby soap and old milk. Now she smells like pie crust and pizza. She used to swat at my head gently, now she yanks my glasses from my face and uses them as a weapon. But then she giggles and says "mamama." Soon enough she'll be walking and won't need me to carry her everywhere. She'll be 1 in just a few weeks.
I take pictures of them in the brief moments of calm, and find I can stretch out the calm for a long time by staring at these photos, even if they really only lasted a second or two.
We're making progress. I think.
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