Blog a la Cart

My Three Children

It’s the first holiday weekend without my mother, and we had had plans to be with her on Easter Sunday. Instead, we’re in VT, weathering mud season, and trying to be as low key and low expectations as possible to get me through the weekend. I had a visit from my oldest friend from childhood and her daughters on Friday, and then a visit from my mom’s best friend from childhood on Saturday. It was good, but hard, to be surrounded by people who knew her so well and loved her so much. She meant so much to so many, and while it is so lovely to be reminded of that, it is also so devastating to be reminded of how much we all lost.

The next two months are filled with milestones/holidays/birthdays that are going to be a doozy to confront. I’m trying to face them one at a time. Napping, sunshine, and laughter with my kids are some of the best antidotes (but I’ve got a team of medical professionals helping as well, because I can’t possibly take care of my children if I’m not taking care of myself).

Snuggles with Sander

Everyone wants in on the infant snugs.

We are clearly not enjoying this baby enough… our little grunty babe. He has the most ridiculous grunt that is unlike any noise his big sisters made as infants. And it is hysterical, and endearing, and so deep and low and ridiculous. Usually it comes when he is first waking up, or right before a monster poop. And it is unique to our Sander (at least in the Cart family).

Oh we are just so stupidly in love with this little one. All of us.

11/52

“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2016.”

Sunny: We’ve got some expert, willing baby-handlers in our midst. Sunny truly cannot get enough of holding him.
Kaki: While Courtland doesn’t have the hours of longevity of her big sister, she is always so enthusiastic to snuggle and cuddle with her brother, too.
Sander: And he’s done a lot of this. Snoozing. Until about 9pm, when he is then awake until 2-3am. But then he gives us a good 4-5 hour stretch of sleep, so worth it? Maybe? In the grand scheme of life with a newborn, severe sleep deprivation is just part of the equation, so we’re rolling with it.

More details about The 52 Project here. To view all the portraits in the series visit here

Sander’s Hospital Stay

Here’s a peek at our hospital stay with Sander, the same L&D floor where I delivered Courtland. While the circumstances were far more challenging during this postpartum period, the staff rose to the occasion and treated our family with such thoughtful care and tenderness. I am endlessly grateful for the attention and kindness of the nurses during our stay, and my midwives, who carried me this past month in ways that I didn’t know were possible. Their deep commitment to me and this baby were palpable and I wish all women had access to that depth of care and experience. I feel very fortunate to be one of their patients.

^^My father gifted my mother that bead for her Pandora bracelet on Valentine’s Day morning, before our entire world changed forever only moments later. I wore it around my neck in the three weeks following her death, and during Sander’s birth, as it was the most recent thing her hands had touched and it felt comforting to keep her touch close during a time when I needed it the most.^^

10/52

“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2016.”

Sunny: “I never want to stop holding him. He smells so good and I just love him so much.” And it’s true, she hasn’t wanted to put him down. She positively adores him. Not that we’re at all surprised.
Kaki: She loves to pick out his outfit for the day. She and Sunny meticulously lay out each piece in his bassinet, and eagerly help dress him when he’s awake. She is adapting so well to her role as Big Sister. While she’s still a busy four-year old, it’s amazing to see her tenderness with her little brother.
Sander: Such a sweet, mellow, snuggly little babe. He reminds me so much of Courtland as a newborn – with all those wrinkles and that grumpy old man face. But his personality is so similar to Sunny’s disposition at this stage. Relaxed, easy to sooth, peaceful. Such a gift given all that’s going on with me. He is such a gift.

More details about The 52 Project here. To view all the portraits in the series visit 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.

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.

9/52

“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2016.”

Sunny: Grateful that my mother’s spirit lives on so strongly in her namesake.
Kaki: She can sense when I’m feeling sad or my mind is elsewhere. She responds by cradling my face in her palms and simply looking into my eyes until I refocus on the moment and her. The wisdom and tenderness of children is astounding.

More details about The 52 Project here. To view all the portraits in the series visit here

8/52

“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2016.”

Sunny: On Sunday, she spent hours in her bedroom coordinating a “surprise” for me. On the door, she hung a sign that read “CONSTRUCTION. DO NOT ENTER.” When she was finally finished, she let me inside to behold walls and surfaces covered in pictures and love notes and words all about me and Momar. I didn’t know my heart could possibly feel so full and broken simultaneously.
Kaki: She appeared in my room the other morning while I was still curled up in bed, with just a hint of sunlight streaming into the space and my hair swooped across my forehead, and whispered, “Hi, Mama. You look so much like Momar right now. I think she’s here with us.” Always, baby, always.

More details about The 52 Project here. To view all the portraits in the series visit here

7/52

“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2016.”

A reflection of parenting through grief, and supporting young children through grief. Devastatingly, I feel this will be a theme of this space and this particular project for some time to come. But I want to hold on to these moments with my children and remember their clarity and sensitivity of thought. Their perspective on such loss. I am clinging to memories of my mother on their behalf and nurturing their own. The grief I feel is not just for myself, but more deeply for my children and all that they’ve been cheated of in the loss of their Momar who was the most loving, present, over-the-top grandparental figure in their lives. They have lost so much. And they’ll never fully understand the magnitude of that having never had the chance to know her in all the ways her adult loved ones did. In my darkest moments, I’m furious that it was her and not someone more insignificant in their lives. But when I see through the fog, I remember that she is everywhere. Always. Forever. In each of us. Especially them. And they are ever a reminder of that.

Sunny: On the night of her death, Sunny reflected that Momar was in heaven, which dwelled in her heart. She was thinking of Momar doing her favorite things: “She’s shopping for clothes and dolls for me and Kaki. And speaking French to her students.” I found her crying later that week and she told me that she was missing Momar’s “squishy hugs,” and that no one could hug her better than Momar. “I need a Momar hug now, but she’s gone.” So James piled some down pillows on his chest to semi-emulate my mother’s robust bosom and enveloped Sunny in an immense bear hug. We’ve been simulating “squishy hugs” ever since. They’re not the same. But the act of trying to replicate my mother’s warm, expansive embrace brings a smile to our faces.
Kaki: One night, she overheard me weeping about how my mother will never get to meet this baby. She plodded into the room and said, “But Momar did meet the baby. Because she loved the baby and bought clothes for the baby. And I’m going to tell the baby all about how much Momar loved her. All the time.”

More details about The 52 Project here. To view all the portraits in the series visit here