Park City Babies

Our "vacation" to Park City, Utah was far from a traditional vacation. It was more of an escape from the real world while trying to deal with our son's death. It was our first time there, and the trip was largely possible due to a friend's generosity, for which we are very thankful. It is a beautiful, peaceful place, and it was a good escape: so much so that Shannon is now fantasizing about buying a condo there. Notice I said "fantasizing."

Caroline had fun, too. She kept talking about "Park City Utah" being "24 years." Hmmm...Anyone who has taken a vacation with a toddler knows you can't overschedule things, so we largely stuck to that. And I was only 4 weeks post c-section at the beginning of the trip, so I was still quite limited physically. No zipline or mountain biking for me.

We slept and sat around the condo a lot, much more than we would do on a typical vacation. One day we took a gondola ride up the mountain at the Canyons Resort and hiked around a bit. We rented bikes one day. We went swimming and hot-tubbing. We poked around Park City's main street. We spent a fair amount of time at a charming used bookstore/coffee shop on Main Street (what can I say? We are a family of book lovers!). We spent time in the common area of the condo development; there was plenty of room for Caroline to run around. She learned how to do the bean-bag toss, which she loved.

I took a couple of books: one about a set of 24-weeker twins who survived and thrived and one about a woman who carried a baby with a fatal condition to term and then had two wonderful hours with her precious daughter. I ordered and received the first book about a week before Weston died (at a time when he was doing well), but I didn't start reading it until after his death. In retrospect, that was quite obviously not a good idea, but I won't get into that right now. The other book, sent to me from a college friend, was just what I needed. It was the most hopeful and uplifting thing I have read since Weston died, which is also a topic for another post.

Weston's one-month birthday occurred while we were in Park City. That was a surprisingly good day, although the days surrounding it were tough for me. Caroline talked about Weston a lot: we sang to him together, and twice she woke up saying she missed him.

Our last day there was really tough for me. We decided to go to the park, and Caroline said she wanted me to push her on the swings. The last time I did that, "the incident" occurred (see my blog post with the same title), so, sadly, pushing my child on the swings has terribly negative associations with it now. So, I was very apprehensive about going to the park at all. We walked there from our condo, and it started raining really hard as soon as we got there. There was a small sheltered area with picnic tables, so we headed there, along with the other million or so kids at the playground.

As soon as we got to the sheltered area, I saw a newborn wrapped in a blanket being held by its mother. First stab to the heart. Thankfully I couldn't tell what sex the baby was. A minute later, I saw a mom holding an infant boy, practically dangling him in front of my face, NOT in a blanket. Second (and worse) stab to the heart. The worst part about it was, I couldn't walk away from the babies! It was raining too hard, and we were all stuck in this little area. Then it started hailing. I heard mom of infant boy say they were going to the car. I was relieved, but then they didn't leave.

I finally walked over to another picnic table, trying to get away from the babies. Newborn was on one side of me but outside of my peripheral vision if I turned my head just right. Then, mom and infant boy walked over and stood on the other side. I was literally surrounded by babies. The rain let up just enough, and Shannon caught my eye and said, "You need to leave, don't you?" Thank you, God, for my perceptive and understanding husband.

Yes, I needed to leave. So, I abandoned my daughter once again right when she wanted to play with me and got the hell out of there. Fortunately, I had my sunglasses on (in the rain), so the other parents hopefully couldn't see the extent of my breakdown when I left.

It is excruciating to see babies right now, especially baby boys. Seeing pregnant women isn't much easier. This presents a problem, as I am in the season of life where EVERYONE is having babies. I am very happy for my pregnant friends or those with new babies, and I don't want people to shield me from their lives. And if I know in advance that I am going to see a pregnant friend or friend with a baby, I am fine. But, just so you know, if I unexpectedly see a baby, pregnant belly, or cute little boy clothes, there will be lots of tears.

So, anyway, I ran back to the condo crying. Once I got back, the skies just opened up; we are just not used to sustained rain like that in Phoenix, even during monsoon season. It was very fitting with my mood. As soon as I got away from the babies, I felt a little better.

I read a blog called A Holy Experience sometimes; her posts are emailed to me. When I checked my email after I got back to the condo, that day's blog post was "What to Do on Hard Days." How appropriate! The gist of the post was that the blogger's mother-in-law would sing hymns when life was hard. The harder things were, the louder she sang. When she was dying of cancer, someone remarked that she was doing well, because she sang all the time. At the end of her life, she sang the hymn "Abide With Me."

Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O Thou who changest not, abide with me.

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

Before Weston died, I prayed all the time, and I read the Bible and other inspirational books because I was so desperate for God to save my son. Also, I had more time; mostly I read in the middle of the night when I was pumping. Now I am (thankfully) sleeping through the night, so I don't have as much time, and I have feelings toward God that are hard to pinpoint. I am not angry at God (not right this moment, anyway), but I just don't understand why he had to take my son.

So, long story short, I have spent less time doing those things since Weston died. But what a perfect blog post and hymn to "stumble upon" on such a hard morning. It was quite comforting to be reminded that God is still there for me and still loves me, even when I was not quite back on speaking terms with him yet.

The day did get better from there. Caroline talked about a rainbow later, which is our family's special reminder that Weston is still with us. I didn't see one, but I know Caroline has her reminders of Weston that we don't necessarily experience with her. She woke up from her nap that day, and the next morning, saying, "I miss Weston. I want to kiss Weston." We had a lovely dinner and (nerd alert) all got completely lost and absorbed in yet another bookstore after dinner. Caroline read aloud to the entire store, it was a beautiful evening, and, given our great loss, my heart was as full as it could be.