March 18th

It is here, this horrible day. It is actually an incredibly beautiful day -- sunny and warm. In fact, it's so nice that our purple crocuses decided it was a good day to make their first appearance of the season. I thought it very fitting that it should be the purple ones that bloomed for the first time today, of all days, for purple was Natalie's favorite color.

I am tired and I just want to sleep now. I just want it to be over. But I know that even though this day will come to an end, the pain of losing my baby girl will never go away. It is now a part of me, as much a part of me as my flesh and blood and all of my life experiences, thoughts, feelings, and everything that makes me who I am. I have no choice but to welcome that pain and just let it be.

I'd like to thank my mom and all my dear friends who reached out to us today, sharing their memories of Natalie and expressing their sorrow and love for her and our family. It is truly a lifesaver. I thank my beloved Christopher and Roslyn, too. And of course, dear Natalie, to whom I am ever grateful that she shared her life with us if only for such a short time.

Ice cream in memory of Natalie

March 15th has come again, the day I took my precious girl to Cold Stone Creamery three years ago. Three years. Sadly, the store on Thayer Street where we went has closed (it's now a Verizon store -- no fun!), so we decided to have our Cold Stone fix at home. Yesterday, while out braving the rain and feeling completely disoriented from the "spring forward" time change, Roslyn and I picked up our Cold Stone out in Seekonk. Thank the universe they had banana and a nice dark chocolate close enough to the kind I had with Natalie. We got a quart to go.

Tonight, the three of us held hands as we remembered our beloved little Natalie. Tears streamed down my face and I did my best not to "lose it" in front of Roslyn. Roslyn said "I love Natalie" and we all said how much we wish she was still here with us. Roslyn wondered what Natalie would talk about (and if she would be able to talk). We assured her that Natalie would definitely be able to talk since she'd be almost 5 by now. I said I bet she'd be quite a little chatterbox, which made Roslyn laugh. We all savored every bite of that delicious, super-creamy ice cream. My thoughts kept returning to Natalie who was so excited to be out that night, a rainy night just like tonight. She kept going over to the window to look out at the people and lights on Thayer Street, returning to where I was sitting nearby with her mouth open for another bite of ice cream. She loved it and I loved that she loved it. We had so much fun.

As March 18th approaches, the dreaded anniversary, Chris and I have both been feeling the heavy weight of that day. We're tired, exhausted. The tears come easy and often. It is an exceptionally difficult time of the year. This year, as we are now six weeks away from meeting our baby son, there's an added layer of emotion. It doesn't make the anniversary easier to deal with or the loss of Natalie any less painful, but it does give us something good to look forward to. And something more to worry about.

For now, I will look forward to more banana ice cream in the coming days. And with every bite, I will think of my little girl who I love and miss more than words can ever express.

February 7th

February 7th. Roslyn's birthday (2003) and the day Natalie had her febrile seizure (2007). I celebrate this day, the day my first baby girl was born, but I can't help thinking also of that scary day three years ago when Natalie suddenly started convulsing in my arms, I called 911, and we took her to the hospital in an ambulance. The doctors said she was OK and that it wasn't anything to worry about (it was "common"). At the time, I believed what the doctors told me, but now I have this nagging feeling that it was a first clue that something was wrong -- and nearly six weeks later, she was gone. A week following her seizure, February 14, Natalie had her 18-month check-up. Again, the doctor gave her two big thumbs up. She was healthy, strong, in the 90th percentile. Solid as a rock. Yet, five weeks later, she was gone. I don't know if I will ever be able to reconcile these facts. It just doesn't make sense and I don't think it ever will.

But February 7th is Roslyn's birthday and we are so happy and so grateful she was born and that she is still here to celebrate her birthday. The coincidence of Natalie's febrile seizure is just a coincidence and I try not to let it cloud the joy and celebration of Roslyn's big day. We had a fabulous party and a wonderful time -- all worthy of our big girl who is now 7. Happy Birthday, Roslyn. I love you.

The New Year

For me, the New Year has always been a time to reflect back and look ahead. This year, as in the past three years since Natalie died, I am filled with contradictions. Highlights of 2009 include the completion of our new kitchen, Roslyn’s graduation from kindergarten and starting first grade at a new school, our trip to see dear friends in Michigan, and the conception of Baby Boy Adamo, who will be born sometime around April 27th.

We are thrilled beyond words that soon this new little person will be joining our family. I cannot help but feel that his existence is nothing short of a miracle. After countless failed attempts to get pregnant, I was almost ready to give up. And then in August, the pregnancy test was positive. Those first weeks and months were plagued with worry, a feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Amazingly, it didn’t—and now we are more than half-way through (24 weeks), and this little boy is kicking up a storm.

Despite my burgeoning belly, I am still in a mild state of disbelief that this is really happening, that soon we will have a new baby to love. Roslyn is so excited to meet her brother. She dedicated a section of our Christmas tree to him, including special ornaments she made for him. She never forgets to include him as part of our family—just as she never forgets to include her precious sister, Natalie.

Roslyn is growing up to be a compassionate, caring girl. I can only imagine her confusion at times over what happened to her little sister. This past year, she has become much more conscious of the depth of the meaning of Natalie’s loss and is able to express herself in ways she couldn’t when she was younger. I am immensely proud of her.

The anticipated arrival of our son gives us hope for the joy he will bring to our family. But this hope is mixed with fear. In the coming months, we must undertake the task of putting away Natalie’s things to make room for the baby. Natalie’s room is going to change. It is an enormous burden, as I have tried so hard to cling to whatever remains of her—down to every detail. Yet, now I am finding that there are some things I need to let go of. It is time to “move on,” a term I have despised thus far because it seemed to mean leaving her behind, something I cannot ever do. But, time is helping me to understand that this is not true. She will never be left behind. She will never be forgotten by those she touched. She will live in our hearts forever. And soon, she will have a new brother who will grow to love her, too. Her clothes may not be in the drawers anymore, but this will not diminish in any way the love we feel for her or the place she holds—and will forever hold—in our family and in our hearts.

And so, we forge ahead, or as Christopher says, “we muddle through.” Here’s to the anticipation of starting another chapter in our lives. We remain forever grateful for the love and support from our family and friends. And we wish you all a happy, healthy, and prosperous New Year.

Only one stocking to stuff

Christmas 2009 is now history. Our third Christmas without sweet Natalie. It was good and bad, as are most holidays now -- as are a lot of things in my life now. The worst part was stuffing only Roslyn's stocking. Natalie's stocking, though proudly hung by the chimney with care, remained unstuffed. There is no child here to give goodies to. It breaks my heart over and over and over again. I miss you, my sweet baby girl. You are always remembered, always loved and missed.

Roslyn had a good day. She woke us up a little after 7:00 saying "Mommy, it's time to get up and open our presents... Mommy, Daddy, come on, let's go..." Chris and I were sleepy and managed to get an extra 10 minutes in bed as Roslyn patiently waited, and then we all went downstairs. Roslyn was excited to see that Santa ate the cookies she'd left out for him and the reindeer food. We opened presents and had our traditional Christmas breakfast: grapefruit, bacon, and eggs Florentine. Chris's hollandaise sauce was pure perfection. We played and relaxed until it was time to go to dinner at our friends' house. Now I'm tired and ready for sleep. Tomorrow we'll play the new games we got for Christmas and just relax after the build-up to the holiday. Roslyn wants to learn how to play chess. Sounds good to me. Merry Christmas my beautiful girls.

Much to be thankful for

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. It has always been my favorite holiday. I love the feast, I love the togetherness, I love what it stands for. It is good to give thanks, good to show gratitude and appreciate what we have. But now, the holidays are especially difficult because at this time for being with family, we are not together anymore. Natalie is forever missing and the holidays only punctuate this sad fact. This will be our third Thanksgiving without her. We only got to spend two Thanksgivings with her. This alone is so incredibly sad. She was here for such a short amount of time. And yet, I am forever grateful for the time we had with her. It is so precious.

As I reflect on what I am thankful for, I think of my children -- my beautiful Roslyn, my beloved angel Natalie, and now, my sweet unborn baby boy who we are expecting to arrive around April 27th. My THREE children. Yesterday I had my 18-week ultrasound and it was confirmed that we are having a son. We are thrilled, and even more thrilled that he seems to be developing normally and everything is going well so far. My screening test for chromosomal abnormalities came back with a risk of 1 in 40,000, which at my ripe old age of 43 is pretty amazing. Chris and I have spent the last several months since we found out I was pregnant feeling amazed that this is really happening and terrified of what could go wrong. We have been through so much already. It is understandable to worry. But I have decided that worrying doesn't do anyone any good, especially me and the baby. I let Chris do the worrying for both of us, and thankfully, he is starting to do less of that, too.

Now is a time to relax and enjoy and look forward to the promise of another new Adamo. We will always remember his big sister, Natalie, and I look forward to telling him about her. I know he will love her, too. Roslyn is so excited to be a big sister again, even though she wishes it were a sister. I think it's her way of missing Natalie and expressing her grief. I have no doubt that once she sees her tiny little brother, she will fall in love with him, too. We all have so much love in our hearts. Yes, I am thankful.

"Sharing Girl"

This week was a biggie for Roslyn. She came home on Monday, thrilled to tell us that she had been chosen to be the "sharing girl" this week. In addition to being the first one to go to lunch, first to read in class, first to do a lot of things, the sharing girl gets to bring in something from home to show and tell her class. Yesterday was Roslyn's sharing day and she chose to bring in Stellaluna.

Stellaluna is a very special little stuffed animal in our house. She is the puppy that Santa gave to Natalie in her stocking shortly before she died. Natalie loved her and slept with her every night. Natalie just called her "doggie." At Natalie's memorial service, we placed "doggie" on her casket along with her favorite bedtime book, Eric Carle's "Head to Toe." During the service, Roslyn (then only 4 years old) marched up and grabbed the stuffed animal off the casket. I let her have it as it seemed to bring her some comfort. In the weeks that followed, I would sleep with the doggie. It helped me feel closer to Natalie somehow. When Roslyn discovered I'd been doing this, she asked if she could have her. Although she brought me comfort, I agreed to let Roslyn have her. A mother's sacrifice. Roslyn had renamed the dog "Brownie."

At some point later, I brought home a DVD from the library called "Stellaluna," a story based on the book of the same name about a baby fruit bat who is separated from her mother. Roslyn really loved it and decided that "Brownie" would now be called "Stellaluna" and that she was no longer a puppy dog, but a baby bat. Roslyn started to bring "Stell" as she's known for short everywhere. On one memorable trip to Target, Roslyn lost Stell and we didn't realize it until we were almost finished shopping, at least 30 minutes later. Roslyn burst into tears upon the discovery that Stell was gone. I was on the verge of tears myself. But she remembered where she left her (in the soap aisle), so we quickly made a beeline for where she thought she'd left her. Unfortunately, she wasn't there. I looked all around in the vicinity, but no sign of the lost baby bat. Next we went to Customer Service for the lost & found, but they didn't have her either. By some lucky coincidence, I just happened to notice Stell in a shopping cart that was full of random items that one of the store clerks was picking up to put back where they belong. Roslyn grabbed her and hugged her and we were truly overjoyed that we'd found our little Stell. We were really lucky.

Another time when we were at Sears, Stell accidentally slipped from Roslyn's grasp and we found her lying in the middle of the main aisle. Luckily, it only took us a few minutes to realize she was gone that time. After that, we decided that Stell could come with us, but it would be best for her to stay in the car. Now, she mostly just stays at home for her own safety.

It's amazing how strongly we all feel for this this little stuffed animal. It is clear to me that Stell is a major part of Roslyn's coping with Natalie's death. On a few occasions, she's slipped and started to call her "my little sis..." or "Nat....", but then she catches herself and says, "I mean, Stell." Oh, it breaks my heart.

Stell is starting to show the wear and tear of the intense love she bears. Roslyn's sharing day went well. She reported that her classmates were "very gentle with Stell." I know it made her feel really good to share with them.

Here's Natalie on Christmas Day 2006 with Stellaluna in the background (sadly, the only picture we have of them together), and Roslyn with Stell in November 2007.