Up All Night

7/20/12
Given the handful of responses I received about this blog post, I feel the need to clarify.

First of all, it was written in the wee hours of the morning, after being awake for several prior hours with an adorably sweet, sick and crying baby. I was laying in bed nursing the Bean, hunting-and-pecking a post from my iPhone. I was tired, and trying to stay awake. Often times, blogging is a way for me to articulate my thoughts and feelings, or to pass the time, or even an attempt to make someone laugh (mostly me). But more so, to record my day-to-day life for posterity. Because without photos, emails, or journal entries of sorts, I would hardly remember the details of my life at all. Plus, it adds an extra oomph for arguing with Alex, because I have virtual proof to prevent him from re-writing history; he's got a tad of the hindsight bias, after all.

Second of all, my commentary about Derek had less to do with my own anxieties about Francine (I'm not one of those people who thinks tragedy is contagious - that because a friend had a stillborn I'm at risk of having a stillborn; or because I also saw the Batman movie at a midnight showing, that I'm lucky I didn't get gunned down my a mentally ill 20-something; or that because my parents had a baby who seemed to get a cold and die, that my baby, too, might die from her cold), and more to do with a middle-of-the-night reflection about my mom and dad and their parenting experiences. As a new parent, I find myself re-evaluating my perception of my own mom and dad, now that I have a new lens in which to view them.

With regard to Derek, I mostly think about how awful the entirety of the experience must have been for my parent. How impressed I am that they were able to endure, seemingly unscathed. They were able to carry on, love the son they already had, grow and love another baby, all without losing an eye, a limb, or their sanity. How were they able to sustain their marriage? Did they contemplate divorce? Were they scared when they got pregnant with me? Or when I turned the age in which Derek was diagnosed? How did they feel the year he should have graduated high school? Did Brian understand that his baby brother died? What did they say to calm his fears? I wonder what it was they did to keep their head above water, keep their family together, maintain work and school and a home - when all I can imagine is wanting to drown.

Growing up, I knew that it was sad that they had a baby who died. But I actually thought in my head, at different stages of my development: "At least he was just a baby, and not a real kid or something." "Since they had a baby who died, that means I won't be kidnapped, because that would be too mean of God." "If Derek was alive, I might not be here." "Wow, my parents sure have a lot of friends from their dead baby group."

And now I think, "I am so amazed, empowered, even, by what my parents were able to survive. What strong people, and what an impressive life they've lived."

Additionally, I know I don't have all the facts - or any for that matter - about what actually went down with Derek. All I have is what remains in the recesses of my childhood mind, knowing I had a brother who came before me, he had a heart problem, and that he died when he was just a baby. As for some facts, my Aunt Sue reminded me that Derek was born September 18, 1980, was diagnosed with heart failure at about one month of age, and died February 10, 1981, during surgery.

And here is the original blog post, without any edits:

7/19/12 @ 4 a.m.
Up. All. Night. Not the show, but me. And Alex. With the Bean. It appears Francie has her first cold. During the daytime hours it didn't seem to be much of an issue. Alex said (I wouldn't know; I'm at work) she had a runny nose and an occasional cough and sneeze, but was otherwise in her usual good spirits. But then came the witching hours. She went to bed with me at 11ish and seemed to sleep well until Alex came to bed. Somewhere in there she was overcome with the most sad and pathetic whimper, a loud and honking nose, and a low grade fever. She was only periodically consolable, which is rare for her. We tried everything - stripping her down for skin-to-skin nursing, rocking in the chair, side laying, inclined lying, swaddling, unswaddling, Soothie, fan, etc. and then we turned on a hot shower to steam up the bathroom. I realize this is usually intended for helping ease a cough, but we were trying for any arsenal in our toolbox. Turns out, she LOVES the sound of the shower - I don't know if it's the water itself, or the echo of the stall, but she calmed immediately.

I'm trying not to think of Derek. Trying not to think about how he came down with a cold at about 4 months of age and was found to have a congenital heart defect. Or so the story goes some 32 years later. My parents had a baby between Brian and me. He was born In 1979 or 1980, I can't recall. Derek Robert Hartman. I recently saw a movie clip of when he came home from the hospital. My brother was so sweet and gentle with him. My parents had a look of confidence and comfort, this being their second child and all. I can't imagine what it must have been like for them - for my brother, for the extended family - when they realized something was horribly wrong. Or when their tiny baby needed pints and pints of blood transfused into his tiny body. Or how they were able to carry on parenting Brian, working, keeping house, when they likely felt as though their world were crumbling. I have very little information about the details of that time in their lives. Chalk it up to another one of the things I would have spoken extensively about with my mom today. Not that history is bound to repeat itself, but I can't exactly go into parenting without that family history in mind. And now that I'm a mother myself, I have such a different perspective on my own mom - and dad - and their apparent ability to move forward in the face of such heartbreak. I am fairly confident Francie's virus is simply a common cold, but I can't help but entertain thoughts of "what if?"