I’m not going to go into why I titled this post this way tonight because not everything can be shared. Let’s just say Woody came home and said this to me tonight for a very good reason. All I am allowed to say is screw anybody who sets out to get rich off kids with cancer. Fucking unreal.
Ronan. I cannot believe your baby sister has been here for three weeks today. It has gone by so quickly. We have still been lying pretty low, and I swear it feels like I have been doing nothing but nesting and breastfeeding her since she arrived. The quiet has been good for me. Or at least that is what I am telling myself for the time being. I do miss my crazy, insane, I’m-losing-my-mind days. Those days got me through a lot of the darkness. I’m sure those days are not over yet, but for now I am just trying to soak in the peacefulness your sister has brought into our lives.
We’ve had a couple of out-of-town visitors. Your Nana came to help out with things and to meet Poppy. It was, of course, wonderful to have her here, as it gave me a chance to do nothing but focus on your sister and let myself become somewhat human again. I was exhausted — not from the lack of sleep I’ve been getting — but from the physical part of your sister’s birth and the toll it took on my body. Now I am starting to feel somewhat normal again, and I know a big part of it is due to the rest I was able to get with your Nana in town. She picked up a lot of the slack, and for one full week I didn’t have to touch the laundry or cook a thing. It was heaven and so very helpful.
Your Fairy RoMo popped into town just for a day to see her new goddaughter. That was a magical day indeed and so special that I can hardly put into words what it was like to see the two of them finally meet. It was like, for once, something in this world without you made sense for a split second. If I can’t have you here to meet your Fairy RoMo, having Poppy here is the next best thing.
We took Poppy all over with us that day. We had an impromptu Poppy party thrown together by Stacy, where we sat around at a cute little restaurant and had a nice lunch. It was pretty much her first time out in the world. After that, we took Poppy to your favorite restaurant, Chelsea’s Kitchen. We sat on the patio and went ga-ga goo-goo crazy over your sister.
As I was sitting there, I was taken back to the night of your funeral — the celebration of life — one of the worst nights of my life. I remembered being there after we had your services. I thought to myself, how in the world could I have come here with a bunch of people the night of Ronan’s funeral? In my white dress, looking like a zombie, I’m sure. I hardly remember the night, except that somebody snapped my picture with Quinn on my lap, and I remember smiling into the camera. How I was able to form a smile is beyond me. I know I did it because Quinn was right there, and I was trying to act somewhat normal — like this is a fucking normal thing to do. Eating tuna tacos with a bunch of people after my child had just died. Sitting in the front row listening to people talk about you, holding your brothers’ hands, without tears streaming down my cheeks because I was too numb to feel anything.
And now here I am, sitting right back at that same restaurant, holding your sister and kissing her sweet cheeks. How is this my reality again? I wanted to vomit right there on the spot, but I just sat there quietly instead, doing everything in my power not to cry and crawl underneath the table. I let the scene of that awful night play out in my head instead.
Every time I think about you and what has happened lately, it’s like my mind goes back to not being able to process it. My brain automatically screams, “FUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK!!!!” and that’s about it. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I don’t. I always feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
I took your brothers back to their therapist last week just to check in. Quinn didn’t understand why he had to go because, as he told your Nana, “If I needed to talk about something, I would just talk to my mom.” That was sweet to hear and made me feel good, but I still wanted him to check in with Dr. Rachel.
After she met with Quinn, I spoke with her. She said he is doing really well — that the worry brain he used to have seems to be totally gone. He also told her that he hasn’t seen me this happy in a long time. That stung a little bit. Happy? How can that be? It almost felt like a betrayal to you, Ronan. Don’t get me wrong, I do want your brothers to see me this way. This is the way they deserve their mom to be. But it still felt weird to hear that. I just wasn’t ready for that word quite yet. It was like swallowing a really big horse pill and doing everything I could not to choke on it.
Dr. Rachel told me she doesn’t feel like she needs to see Quinn anymore — even though she would love to because she thinks he is such an amazing little guy — but it’s not necessary at this point. Liam, on the other hand, still needs some time with her. He is still pretty emotional about all of this. He tends to keep things to himself more than Quinn does. We talked about making sure she gets some time with him before the shitstorm of May 9th and all the lovely dates that follow.
Your brothers are, of course, so in love with your sister. It is so strange to watch them with her, thinking they were doing the exact same thing with you after you were born — and how you are just gone now. They fight over who gets to hold her, kiss her, and love on her. They say the funniest things about her.
The other day, I had an outfit on her that was too big because she is so tiny. The little tank top she had on kept sliding down, and Quinn said, “Mom, why isn’t she wearing a bra? People are going to see her privates.” I almost peed my pants over that one. The innocence at nine years old melts my heart like crazy.
They both can’t get over the fact that she doesn’t have teeth, and Liam sits there trying to teach her to talk. He’ll say over and over, “My name is Liam. L-I-A-M. Your name is Poppy. P-O-P-P-Y.” It is the cutest thing ever. I’m sure if you were here, you’d be coloring on her with markers while I had my back turned, or putting toothpaste in her hair, or cutting it with scissors. You were always causing trouble in the best way possible.
Your daddy has been doing things like playing guitar for Poppy. The other night I was sitting in bed with her, listening to him play. I said, “You need to learn a Taylor song for her.” He asked which one and said, “Not Ronan. I love it, but I don’t think I can get through that one just yet.” I agreed and immediately thought of one of my favorites from The Hunger Games soundtrack, “Safe and Sound.”
Fast forward a week later, and your daddy has that song down perfectly. I remember where I was the first time I heard it. We were in Maine for the one-year anniversary of your death. Your daddy and brothers ran into a restaurant to pick up pizza, and I was sitting in the car alone. That song came on, and I started bawling. I thought it was so beautiful and couldn’t understand how I hadn’t heard it before. I sat there thinking how much I would have loved to sing it to you.
Now here we are, and your baby sister will grow up with your daddy singing that song to her. Once again, the next best thing to having you physically here.
Our visitors have still been few and far between. Your Sparkly came by last week just to check in. I showed him your room and how different it is now. I think it was hard for him to see, but he said it looked beautiful. It was hard for me to show him. After that, we just sat on the couch and stared at your sister while catching up. Sometimes a lot of words aren’t necessary.
He asked where your Nana was. I told him she had gone out to run errands and that she has a hard time sitting still. He said, “Now I know where you get it from.” I smiled. Then he asked, “Where is your mom sleeping? In Ronan’s room?” I paused and said yes.
You see this, Ronan? This is why Sparkly gets it when not many other people do. Those three words — “in Ronan’s room” — meant so much to me. Sometimes the littlest things mean the most. He quietly said he couldn’t believe how much she looks like you.
Cue tears.
That dimple. I still cannot get over it.
That’s my update for today. I’ve started hiking and running again. I know I’m supposed to wait six weeks postpartum, but they don’t call me a rebel for nothing, right, little man? The exercise feels good.
Today has been a little tough for a couple of different reasons, but mostly because I seem to be missing you more than ever. Throw May on top of that, and it’s a wonder I can even leave the house and function like a normal person.
I’m going to go for a run to blow off some of this never-ending pain.
I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.
F U Cancer.
xoxo
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