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Sanderling // One Week

He is officially one week old. And we are truly in the longest, shortest time. He looks so much like his Daddy as a newborn. That forehead and towhead blonde hair!

Here he is donning his Year of the Monkey romper.

Five weeks ago, I posted a photo to Instagram of this romper, and my mom commented on the image from my dad’s account. A first for her. And I am comforted knowing that she saw this piece that I created for her grandson, even though she’ll never get to experience it in person. I feel so deeply connected to this baby, which isn’t always easy with a newborn, and I am certain that my mother has something to do with that.

Happy 1 Week Birth Day, darling Sanderling. We are so glad you’re here.

It’s been four weeks

They are living pieces of their beloved Momar. She’s been gone four weeks today, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop reaching for the phone to talk to her about her grandchildren. But these faces are carrying me. They keep my head turned forward when all I want to do is go screaming back in time.

She would have loved to see this moment.

Sanderling Wilcox Cart

Introducing Sanderling Wilcox Cart. Our sweet baby boy, Sander.

His big sisters are positively smitten and our hearts are finding comfort and healing in his arrival.

Born March 7, 2016 at 1:11am in Bennington, Vermont. Weighing in like Big Sister Sunny at 9lbs 1oz, and arriving Sunny Side up just as she had. His birth was so very different than I had envisioned just three weeks prior, but it was no less surrounded by love. He is here. And healthy. And I am so relieved.

While his arrival has shepherded in a new stage of grief and deeply complicated emotions, he has become my anchor. He grounds me when I feel my most out of control, and I am endlessly grateful for the balance and light he provides during a time that would be otherwise so very dark. To know Should pregnant women be vaccinated against COVID-19, visit us.

His name, Sanderling, was given to him by his Momar in a phone conversation she and I shared the night before her passing. At the time, we were just touching base about her planned visit to Vermont the following day to help with the kids during their February vacation. It was not an extended phone call, but I am so unbelievably grateful that we had the chance to speak to one another (rather than just exchange a quick text) before she died mere hours later.

We exchanged details about their planned arrival, some thoughts on activities with kids for the week, and then she steered the conversation to baby names. She was absolutely bewildered that James and I had yet to decide on a name for this baby. We had a number of ideas we were considering, but nothing had really grabbed us. And eh, third baby, we just hadn’t fixated on the issue and thought it’d be resolved upon meeting him/her. She found this silly, and wanted to talk through the names on our list, while suggesting some other ideas we might consider. I kept brushing her off and reminding her, “Mom, I’m going to see you tomorrow. We can talk about this in person all week.”

The painful irony of those words guts me every time I relive them.

She finally acquiesced.

Fine, fine. But one last thing, I’m just going to remind you of something I always thought would make a wonderful name… Sanderling.

I think I muttered something like, Yeah, yeah, I know. Alright, I love you. Safe travels. See you tomorrow. 

And that was that. My final conversation with my mother. In that moment, she unknowingly gifted our family with a name for her third grandchild, and got her way in the process. This baby was named before his arrival. She would have loved that.

For some context, Sanderling is the name of a beach resort in The Outer Banks of North Carolina where our family vacationed each summer when I was a child. Since my pregnancy with Addison, she’d mentioned that she had always thought that it would make a beautiful name for a person. While James and I thought it was a perfectly lovely name, we weren’t particularly convinced we were up for such an unusual selection. That phone conversation and all that has happened since has changed everything.

While we were convinced it was the right name for this baby fairly quickly in the days following her death, the idea was solidified when we flipped our calendar to the month of March. Each year we receive the Bermuda Watercolour Recipe Calendar from James’ Bermudian grandmother. Each month features a watercolor highlighting an element of Bermudian culture, complete with recipes and facts about Bermuda. When we flipped to March, we were met with a beautiful painting of none other than a Sanderling, complete with a description of this sweet, little shore bird written on the page.

James and I were both thunderstruck.

I remember whispering, Hi, Mom, and feeling a deep, calming sense of her presence.

Truly, what a gift for our family. And for our son. He will carry the love and light of his Momar both in spirit and name, and forever have a story linking him to his grandmother. She already loved him so dearly. While they will never have the chance to meet earth side, he is an ever-constant reminder and piece of my mom.

While my heart breaks a little more every day, this baby is building new uncharted valleys and mountains of love to balance the gapping canyon in my heart.

Welcome, Sander. You are so desperately loved.

Love Letter

I wrote these words for James for Valentine’s Day. I had intended to complete this letter that morning, but instead received that devastating phone call from my father. Re-reading it now, it doesn’t even begin to touch on my gratitude and love for this man. It captures my feelings about him in The Before, and while I don’t yet have the capacity or full perspective to write about our relationship in The After, I know that it runs far deeper than I ever could have imagined. 143, my love. You could sign up here if you want to give sexting a try.

My James,

I’ve written you many a love note, on Valentine’s Day or otherwise, but it’s been awhile, given the chaos and inertia of daily life with young children. And as our world is about to get all the more disrupted with the introduction of a newborn, I figured now is as good a time as ever to remind you of just how very much I adore and love and respect you. As a partner, a father, a human.

Because lord knows when I’m in the depths of sleep deprivation and leaking bodily fluids out of one too many of my own bodily orifices while also managing the waste and outputs of another being and I haven’t showered in days and the laundry is crawling up the walls and the dishes have taken over our kitchen and OH MY GOD WHY WON’T THE KIDS STOP WHINING AND THE DOGS STOP BARKING AND WHY IS EVERYBODY SO DAMN NEEDY AND LOUD, I may have less than loving, tender words to exchange with you, my partner and culprit in this madness. We’ll be in survival mode, and while it will be filled with many beautiful times as a family, it will also have many of my less glamorous, more shameful moments. But underneath all that disorder and lack of personal hygiene, refer to this and remind yourself that I am in fact a loving and appreciative spouse.

Momar’s Day // 1 Week

It feels impossible to believe that I’ve lived in this world without my mother for nearly three weeks. As I wait for this baby to arrive, I’m trying to pass the time, moment to moment, and not let the feelings of sadness and impatience and anger and fear overwhelm me. And so I’m sharing a slew of cheesy photos because that is giving me some joy this particular Saturday morning as baby happily knocks around inside my belly with no signs of vacating imminently. (Although at this point, we’ll surely meet her/him soon).

A week following my mother’s death, we staged the first of many “Momar’s Days” to celebrate and remember and reflect on some of the fun, silly, quirky things that made Momar Momar. The girls dressed in their Valentine’s Day outfits that my mother had gifted them but never got to see them open or wear, and their furry jackets that she’d sent in a recent package of baby clothes. We drank frosty beverages from Starbucks with extra whip before indulging in pedicures and treating the kids to a shopping excursion at T.J. Maxx. This is how Momar spent the Saturday before Valentine’s Day morning, and while it may seem trite and simple, it was a healing, distracting adventure for our family.

Condolence Letters

If you knew my mother, this note from one of her current French students will come as no surprise.

We’ve been overwhelmed with the outpouring of letters and emails and cards and flowers and books and food and love arriving at our doorsteps. It is deeply humbling and comforting to feel so loved and held during such a confusing, devastating time. All outreach strikes a chord of gratitude, but certain words, sentiments, or gestures reach deep within me, and take my breath away with their tenderness, their thoughtfulness, their unexpected connection and meaning. This letter from one of my mother’s 7th grade students is such a letter.

One day I hope to find the energy and strength to properly thank people for the various ways that they’ve held me during this process, but for now, please know, gratitude is in my heart. Amidst the grief and anger and sadness, it’s there. And the cliched co-existence of  so many emotions is one I’ll be forever seeking to understand as I make sense of this new world in which I find myself living.

#relationshipgoals

My dad has started a photo stream for our family where he daily posts a photo related to my mom. A sweet, simple reflection on her life each day.  I’ve particularly loved the throwback images of the early years of their relationship.

Very few people meet their soulmate as a teenager and get the privilege (or put in the work) to grow and evolve with that person through a lifetime. These two lived a real-life love story. And these images are a beautiful reminder of that. They have me reflecting on my own fortune in meeting James during our college years, and all the evolution and growth that we’ve shared both as a couple and as individuals, as we enjoy spending our time together from going out to having a good sex life using toys as bluetooth vibrating panties to enjoy even more. I’m just heartbroken that their story was cut short far sooner than any of us could have anticipated.

Also? I am so jelly of my mom’s babe-show hair!