Friday, February 22, 2013

On weaning.

So remember how I was like, maybe I will wean Tycho when I'm in Mexico?

Yeeaaaaah, no.

My mom brought Tycho to pick us up at the airport, and as soon as he saw me he held out his fist to sign milk. I asked if I could have a hug. No, just furious signing to nurse. So I breastfed him in the airport before we could even go home. Not so much weaning.

I'm sooooo ready to  be done, though. I thought I wanted to make it until two and the World Health Organization recommendations, blah blah blah, but right now I'm over it and I totally don't care what the WHO recommends.

We are doing great with the twice a day schedule, so now I am dropping us down to once. We often have once days as it is, if the circumstances are right, but tonight was the first time I've managed to distract him from nursing when I got home from work and I haven't seen him all day, so that's a victory. We actually didn't nurse at all today, because I was leaving just as he woke up, but I'd rather cut out my evening nursing session than the morning one, and why not start today? So I will nurse him in the morning tomorrow, and then not again until Sunday. Hopefully. I have no idea how we will be able to drop that last morning session, but I suppose we will cross that bridge when we come to it.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Sunday, February 17, 2013


So, we took a vacation! Without the baby! It was magical!

18 months, it was definitely time. Kyle and I spent a blissful three nights at an all-inclusive resort in Puerto Vallarta, and did mostly nothing, while my parents spoiled the poop out of Tycho. It was good for everyone!

Kyle and I mostly did a whole lot of nothing. Sleeping in late, then laying by the pool, then taking naps, eating at our leisure, taking more naps, never doing dishes or laundry, spending time together, not working, holding hands like that's something we still do. (Apparently, it is!)

I did insist on going to town on one day, so at least we could say we did. Puerto Vallarta is just beautiful. We walked down the avenue by the beach until we found a quiet restaurant for lunch, stopping to buy a souvenir for Tycho, check out the wildlife, take pictures.

At the beach at the end of our walk we rented a pair of jet skis. And then mine ran out of gas and I was stranded out in the ocean, too far to see from the shore. No, I'm not kidding. Kyle had to go in and bring the rental guys back out to get me. I didn't really realize that it was kind of scary until we were safely back on land.

It was all perfectly lovely. Our last night was Valentine's Day, so we capped off our trip with a romantic dinner in the resort's "fancy" restaurant. It was so nice just being together, enjoying each other's company. It's been a long time since we've really been able to do that. Reconnecting was amazing.

I'm proud to say, also, that we didn't get weepy or emo about Tycho. Not at all, really. I only began to miss him when we were flying back home to Seattle, and I was sitting next to an adorable three year old. Her mother was apologizing profusely for the tiny feet periodically kicking me in the thigh, but tiny feet only make me happy.

I'm so glad we were able to go on this trip. It was just what we needed.

Monday, February 11, 2013

Missing Jaime.

There is no solace in death for an atheist. I don't, I can't believe that Jaime is in "a better place." Yes, I am glad she is no longer suffering, but I am so so sad that she is gone, and I'm so very angry about how deeply unfair it is. There are no platitudes. You can't tell me that at least she lived a long and full life, because although it was certainly full, it was cut tragically short.

Jaime's funeral was beautiful. I'm glad I was able to go. I wasn't sure it was appropriate for me, a random girl from the internet, to be there, but it turned out that it was. And that I'm not. Random, that is. Jaime's sister recognized Tycho, knew him by name. That meant the world to me.

On Saturday I felt so much lightness; Jaime picked a wonderful beautiful place for us to lay her to rest. I got to say my goodbye. Hugs and hand-holding with my friends in our grief.  But today it all feels so real and final and it is and I'm feeling crushed under the weight of this reality. She is still sitting in my chat favorites on facebook, seemingly just a click away, but not really, not anymore. I wonder how long it will take for her to disappear from there. I don't want her to, but she will, eventually, I know.

I wasn't ready for this to be so hard.

Sunday, February 10, 2013


Rest in peace, friend.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Cycle Day One, I guess

Today I got my period for the first time since October 2010. It's a good sign I suppose, but I certainly didn't miss it.

I signed into Fertility Friend for the first time in forever. I don't think I'm going to do any serious charting this time around. I am definitely not interested in bothering with temping. But I will probably put in the stuff I happen to notice anyway, because why not?

For some reason I feel very weird about this.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013


My friend Jaime died yesterday.

Jaime was an amazing person. She knew what she wanted out of life. A husband, a house in the country, a beautiful kitchen, a baby, a garden and some chickens. She went out and got all of those things and she didn't wallow in comparisons or focus any of her energy on what anybody else had that she might be missing and she was just unapologetically HAPPY.

Jaime called me her "cheese wife." In some ways we were alternate universe versions of each other; so much in common, yet leading vastly different lives. We were pregnant together, sharing in that experience. Her daughter Katie was born just a month after Tycho. She made him a onesie once, with a rainbow unicorn and a cupcake on it. I sent Katie tiny pajamas with birds on them, because before Katie was born we knew her as "little bird." We she first got diagnosed with cancer she got a fabulous pixie cut. I admired and envied it, and she convinced me to get one too.

My friend Jaime died yesterday.

That's what I said at least. Jaime was a part of an online community of women, who I sometimes collectively call my imaginary friends; I've never actually met her in "real life," whatever that means. But she was my friend as much as anyone is my friend. I'm dropping the "imaginary" so that people better understand my grief. She is real to me.

Jaime was never supposed to be imaginary forever, anyway. We were constantly discussing opportunities to visit. When we found out she had cancer I started making more serious plans. Just a couple weeks ago, when the prognosis was six months, maybe more, we decided on the spring, probably May. And when things got worse, I vowed to go down right after we got back from Mexico, since I had already asked for a couple extra days off.

But she died yesterday, and I never got to see her beyond the screen. I never got to give her a hug. We never got to sit in the sun, eating rich foods and drinking wine. That is without a doubt what we would have done. We never got to see our babies play together. We never got to build a friendship that I won't have to justify to anyone. I never got to say goodbye.

She was just 33 years old. And only two months from her first cancer diagnosis to passing. When she found out she was sick, and that it was terminal, she was accepting, she was strong, she just wanted more time with her daughter. A year, maybe two, please, to see her little girl grow up, to make more memories. These past few weeks all I can think is that I just wish I could take a year off the end of my likely long and boring life and give it to her right now, so she could spend just a little more time raising her daughter and loving her husband.

I am just devastated. I am exhausted from crying, from mourning. My heart is breaking for her daughter, who will grow up not knowing her amazing mother, and for her husband who has lost his love, his wife, his best friend, and become a single father all in one day. And also for our community of imaginary friends. We are brought to our knees by this tragedy. We are all still so young; none of us are prepared for this loss.

My friend Jaime died yesterday.

It still hasn't completely sunk in, the permanence, that I will never talk to her again, that we won't get to meet like we both so badly wanted.

I bought a plane ticket today. I'm going to her funeral in San Francisco on Saturday. Maybe it is silly to blow so much money on this trip to see her dead, when I never was able to make it when she was living. Maybe, but sitting here in my anger and grief, doing nothing seems impossible. And something I can do is be present for her, and for her family, one more reminder of how fiercely she is loved. And I'll be making other imaginary friends real on this trip, and we can hold and support each other through this impossible time.

My friend Jaime died yesterday. I am not okay.


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...