(almost) Back to (her new) Normal

On the way home from school two nights ago, Livie spotted the moon out in the evening sky.  She was so excited, "Look mom!  The moon!  It is Carter peeking out to say hi to us!"

This is Carter's container. (For some reason, I just can't bring myself to teach her the word urn.  Probably for the same reason I didn't want Carter in a casket or transported by hearse.  It just doesn't seem right for a baby.)  So now, moons remind Liv of Carter.  The entire drive home, she pointed out Christmas lights to him, making sure that she told him all about each and every house.  The backseat was full of "oohs and aahs" as she delighted in the houses that still had their display up and lit.  At some point, she realized that the moon never seemed to get farther away from her - "Mom!  The moon is following us!  Carter wants to come home with us!  He is following us the whole way home!  He will be so happy to be home!"  As the tears welled in my eyes, Liv was as happy as can be to think that her brother in Heaven was following her home.  She has adjusted to her new role as sister to a brother in Heaven just fine.

Nearly 8 months ago now, Livie watched her dad have a seizure.  In the weeks that followed, her dad was at the hospital a lot, and her mom was there with him.  Liv's world was thrown for a loop as her routine got jumbled and caregivers flowed in and out of our house.  She loved the extra time that she got with grandma, uncle and the fabulous Ms. Stephanie, but it wasn't her normal.  I tried to see her each day (even if that meant asking the sitter to keep her awake until midnight) but it wasn't always possible.

Then, once dad came home from the hospital, things were most definitely not normal.  It takes time to recover from having pieces of your brain cut-out.  But how do you explain that to a two year old?  What resulted was a crabby, unhappy, misbehaving little bird.  It took months for me to see normal Livie come back to us after that.  There were days I feared I had lost my happy, well-behaved little girl forever.

As I neared the end of my pregnancy with Carter, the majority of Livie's care still rested on my shoulders, but I tended to be a little crabby (4 hours of sleep a night and a baby nestled in your pelvis will do that to you).  I started to see the post-brain-surgery Livie resurface.  Then, Carter was born.  And there were lots and lots of tears.  Things going on that Liv didn't understand.  One night I am whispering in her ear that she might get to meet her brother in the morning, and 10 hours later she finds out that there isn't going to be a baby coming home after all.  What a whirlwind for a little girl!

Things went down-hill even more after I was admitted with my pulmonary embolism.  I saw it coming before I was even released from the hospital.  More changing of her routine.  Grandma and uncle in and out of her house again.  The insecure and naughty bird was coming back.

This time though, I was worried.  Kids are resilient, I know.  But how much can I expect one little girl to handle?  Livie had meltdowns over the smallest things, becoming clingy and distant all at the same time.  Defiant and needy, she was a different child than the one I knew.  I hoped and prayed that we would get through this.  I certainly wasn't at the top of my game - what if I couldn't help her?  What if my sweet and caring little girl really was gone forever this time?

But slowly, I have seen her settle.  She is happier again.  She listens better.  I don't see the scared look in her eyes.  Even Shawn has commented, "she seems happier lately!"  and I think she is.

I have tried hard to be strong and consistent for her, and I am starting to get my sweet bird back.

She doesn't run to check on her Carter cake every morning anymore.  I doubt she will allow it to leave the kitchen anytime soon, but it is no longer an obsession.  I have been talking about removing his car seat from the car, and I think it may actually happen without too much of a fuss.  With the stockings down and baby swing packed-up, physical evidence of his presence here is slowly fading away.  Even Carter's monkey balloon from his funeral now bounces along the floor instead of the ceiling.  So many things that we are all realizing we need to learn to let go of.

Everything is so-matter-of-fact to Livie these days.  She talks about what she wants to, when she wants to.  "Mom, remember when dad fell in the kitchen?  Tell me what happened"  "Mom, remember when my friends came to Carter's good-bye party?  Tell me about how I colored with them"

When she talks about Carter, there is an acceptance in her words that I have yet to master.  Her brother is in Heaven, and that is just the way it is.