I can remember the day so clearly. My best friend, Jen, had told me she was going to find out whether she was expecting a little boy or girl and that she’d let me know as soon as she left the doctor. I was at work and checked my phone a dozen times. I finally texted her a pink heart, a blue heart, and a question mark, unable to wait any longer. After a bit she texted back a blue heart and then right after that she said, “I hope that you’re okay with it.” And with that my heart broke a little. Here she was on one of the most exciting days of her life and she was worried about my feelings; I hated myself a little for that. I hated that I had let my grief push its way to the forefront of yet another amazing moment and it wasn’t even my moment. I quickly responded, “OF COURSE it’s okay!” And truly, it was. But I would be lying if I didn’t say it hurt something awful too. The hurt wasn’t born of jealously-not an ounce of that-but that our beautiful baby boys would never play together; that we would never take a picture of them together and look back at it in wonder that they’d ever been that little, as there is no doubt in my mind that Jen and I will grow old together.
I love me some Oliver; we all do. Sean gets such a kick out of him and Kennedy has loved him like her own baby brother from the moment she first held him. And so I was feeling pretty sad that we didn’t get to make a vacation happen with them the way with did last summer and so I made plans to head to Boston for a day or two with Carter since K would be at gymnastics camp.
So after Kennedy’s first week of camp we made a visit to Long Island. It was filled with family, boat rides, and pool days. It was great and needed but all of it was overshadowed by the fact that my baby boy looked at me, while I was putting on makeup to head to a bridal shower and said, “Mama.” I swear to God I almost cried ever drop of mascara I’d just applied. To hear that sound come from the mouth of a little boy has been something my heart has been desperate to hear for the last three and a half years. He is a snuggly, mushy little mama’s boy (which I mean in the most affectionate way) and he soothes my soul in ways I can’t begin to put into words. It was a great long weekend but it took its toll on the little girl and so we skipped camp this week.
I went back and forth about bringing her with us but decided not to, which she was not thrilled with me about. The thing is, it would make it a very different visit and I felt like I needed it to be low key and low maintenance, neither of which describes my fiery, wild-haired girl. She was entertained by her grandparents and did just fine through FaceTime calls and some whining. The little man and me? We did just fine too.
The second we arrived to Jen and I saw Oliver’s little face light up as he shouted over the pouring rain, “Hi Baby!” I was done. Jen parked the car for me and I made my way up the stairs holding one boy in my arms and the hand of the other as he chatted to me. The second we walked through the door Oliver directed us to sit on the floor and he talked Carter, showing off all of his bog boy moves. Carter was enthralled by him, laughing and trying to mimic the sounds and clapping. Separated by one year and one day, they had not yet met face to face as life just got in the way, but they acted like old friends instantly (except when poor Oliver got close enough for a fistful of hair from the Ultimate Hair-Puller). Watching them, my heart was literally fluttering. Though in this scenario Oliver was the big boy and Carter the baby, my brain allowed my heart to remind me he would have been sandwiched between my boys in a different life and I smiled to myself thinking of the noise level with three and how they’d have been thick as thieves. Just like that, our boys were together. And it was everything I needed it be all of these years.
We had a great visit that ended too quickly but we had a little girl that missed us and wanted us (mostly “her baby”) back home and so we got one last picture of the little men together and headed back to New York.
We decided to add another big milestone to month ten for Carter and took him to get his first haircut. While the mullet has always made me laugh I find it less funny on the heads of my children and so I thought a good trim was in order. I went off the suggestion of a friend and brought him to an honest-to-God Barber Shop in the town next door; the kind where the barber’s were sitting outside waiting for men in need of some grooming. A guy that could have been Sean’s doppelgänger was “up” and instantly started talking to Carter, making him feel at ease and let him touch the buzzer and combs. My big guy- my last baby- he never fussed or cried once. And though every snip of his baby hair’s made me want to scream STOP!! I knew it was really Time I wanted to stop and not this sweet man cutting his hair. In a month and a half he will be One and I’m just not ready to be there yet. So he is still my baby. My baby with a pretty damn cute ‘do.
As if there just wasn’t enough emotion coursing through my veins as we got in the car Kennedy asked why we were taking Carter’s hair home in a bag. I explained that we’d done the same for her and that I had a special box to put it in. Naturally, her mind always loops in Jack when I say “my kids” and so she asked, “Did you keep Jackie’s hair too?” I could barely breath but managed to squeak out “No” as the tears started welling up behind my sunglasses. When she asked why, I couldn’t give her a good answer because I was too busy asking myself the same question Why?! Why didn’t I ask them for a lock of his hair? He'd had so much. It was dark blond and it was beautiful and I suddenly wanted to touch it more than anything in the world. Grief is funny that way; it comes out at unexpected times and swallows you up. And so, as I do whenever my heart calls out for Jack, I did my best to take in every second of time with his baby brother and sister, believing that he lives through them.
My summer vacation is winding down with my return to work starting in August. Time off never feels like enough but there has been some pretty good moments to carry my through until our beach vacation down south the end of August. Until then, I will soak in the sun and the chaos. You do the same, my friends.
