Recently Lu and I babysat our nephew Oren for several hours while his Mom and Dad went out to see some friends. We volunteered for the job after careful consideration, because we just felt like it was something we needed to do. For us, for them, for Oren, for everything. There were others that could have watched him, but we decided that we could not let Silas’ death come between us and my brother’s son. It is important to us that he know us and love us and trust us, and we can only forge that bond by being with him as much as possible.
Most of the night was easy. Whenever he started to realize that Mama wasn’t around we managed to distract him with balls or busses or an impromptu game of peek-a-boo and we managed to keep him from tears nearly all night. Thoughts of Silas and our lives denied did surface from time to time, but everything and anything can ignite those impossible blazes, and I’m good at quenching those mental firestorms these days. I fought through and had fun.
Love what you have, I kept telling myself. Cherish him, enjoy his adorable smile, shower him with as much love as I would Silas. And it was easy. Oren is my family, my blood. It was wonderful to play with him and watch him and make him laugh and hear his new words. I thought about how he didn’t even know of Silas, and I wondered how all of that would be addressed in the coming years. Then I remembered I didn’t even know how to deal with next month, much less years from now. Then I chased him around and scooped him up and his tiny hysterical laugh melted me inside, again.
Soon it was time for bed. This one was on me, I knew that. Lu and I had discussed that specifically and we decided I would be the one to put him to bed because it was everything Lu had ever wanted with her own child and tonight it was a bit too much, too soon.
I could do it, though. I knew it. I had to.
I gathered him in my arms like my brother Mark does. I put on Wilco’s Sky Blue Sky because Oren loves that. We closed the door and turned the light off and I rocked him around the room, softly swaying to the silken tunes. First up on my shoulder and then in the crook of my arm, I told him I loved him and whispered him to sleep, moving the whole time. Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes in, his arms and legs went twitchy and his breathing slowed, and then just like Mark said to, I waited just a little bit longer. Waited till his REM really kicked in and then gently, gently like a ostrich laying a giant egg, I placed him in his crib and slipped out of the room.
It was extremely intense.
I’m not sure how I wasn’t sobbing, but I wasn’t. I felt hollowed out, almost in a mild state of shock, but I also felt lucid and proud. Did it. Put him to bed. Not even a real dad with an actual son and I can still rock’em to sleep if a baby needs to go to bed. Fuck. Yeah.
I have another step to take, though. But I can do this, too. I must and I will, even though it won’t be easy. Recently our close friends gave birth to a baby girl and even though I see them all the time, I have yet to meet her. I want to. I want to be a wonderful uncle to her and to cherish her amazing existence along with her parents. But I’m scared. I’m scared of the raw sadness I am going to feel when I hold that infant in my arms. I’m scared of the loss I’m going to feel when I look at her and see her innocent soul bared on her face. I’m terrified of how her form will fit perfectly in my arms where Silas should have. I’m horrified of the jealously I feel for all the happy babies and perfect families in the world.
But then I remember to love what I have and so I’m going to kiss her tiny little face and smell her new-baby smell and feel my soul crumple and then blow apart over and over again a million times every instant and somehow I’m going to deal with the fact that this is my life and they are my friends and that is their child. I will recognize how I love them all so much–maybe more now even with Silas gone–and I’m just going to fucking deal with the fact that they have what I want and that somehow I have to be okay with that.
Gingerly I will return her to her mother’s arms and then I’ll go have a beer with Dad and slowly I will learn how to breathe again.
Elm City Dad 
21 comments
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March 10, 2009 at 9:10 am
Mrs.spit
I’m reminded of a quote by Robert Heinlen. I’ve always loved it, and it’s the kind of person I’ve always wanted to be.
Sending Grace and hugs. You did good work.
A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.
-Robert A. Heinlein
March 10, 2009 at 9:29 am
Sheri Rouse
Once again you powerfully summed up your pain. Thanks for sharing.
March 10, 2009 at 11:21 am
Ezra's Mommy
So beautiful Chris, I have found both comfort and sadness with my nephews & niece. And soon, next week in fact, I will take the giant leap to meet my newest niece.
March 10, 2009 at 12:50 pm
Chris
There was (and is) a funny thing that Dalene and I noticed after we lost Baker, and that was that we could only tolerate seeing babies of our friends who had reacted “the right way” to Baker’s death. Somehow subconsciously we required the correct amount and type of affirmation and comfort from them before we could fully adore their children. For the ones who met our silly standard, we could visit, rock, kiss their babies. For the ones who were aloof or awkward, or worse, silent, we were less interested in their kids. I remember we told these good friends that although what we were experiencing was unspeakably difficult, that we wanted to know and love their babies as they would have been Baker’s friends. That has helped, as hard as it sometimes is.
March 10, 2009 at 2:03 pm
Amy
“horrified of the jealousy.” that’s so true, and so astute. and a live bomb.
March 10, 2009 at 3:09 pm
Dalene
Like “my” Chris said, if these friends are truly friends, they will make space for Silas and recognize him as an important and cherished part of your family.
I love the image of you rocking your nephew to sleep.
March 10, 2009 at 3:49 pm
Tina
I can only imagine how difficult it must be for you and Lani and all the other parents out there reading who have lost children to be around other children, particularly those of your family and friends. I’m so proud of you both for choosing to continue to be the caring, loving, supportive and important people in the lives of those you are close with – despite the emotional challenges you constantly face, especially surrounding all of the kids. I know from reading all that you’ve written here and in talking to Lani a bunch on the phone that it’s not easy for you guys and that you have to face these things on your own time frame, but I also know that everyone of the kids you are around – their lives are only going to be better with you both in them. So keep on sharing your love with them when you can. You’re doing great. Love to you Bones! Miss ya. xoxo
March 10, 2009 at 4:42 pm
Sally
This was so vivid, Chris. I felt like I was there in the room with you, standing there quietly in the corner as you rocked little Oren to sleep.
And much like Chris and Dalene, it has been the kids of friends’ who have “passed the test” who have been easier for us to see, hold, feed and rock to sleep.
Seeing a newborn for the first time is brutally hard. You’re right, the bundle fits so comfortably in our arms. You guys will get through it though, holding hands as you do through the rest of your lives.
March 10, 2009 at 4:42 pm
Cara
That is a huge first. You and Lani are just so incredibly brave as you walk through this journey. You communicate and take on just enough to grow.
Thinking of you all the time.
xoxo
March 10, 2009 at 6:50 pm
mamaliza
you are brave and so loving chris. your heart is so open and raw. you are taking on these challenges with so much truth and love and i admire that. i have hid myself away from every baby in my life these past 6 months. and don’t even want to hear about the ones who’ve been born since. i too feel horrified at my jealousy but justify it as protecting myself. i’ve been starting to think about seeing some of these babes again. our closest friends son, also my godson, will be one next month, haven’t seen him since he was 4 months old and we were all going to raise our little ones together. there is nothing simple about any of this. our lives are not simple anymore. all we can do is be real and honest.
March 10, 2009 at 7:57 pm
elmcitydad
Mrs. Spit, I love that. And I love Heinlein. I’m a sci-fi geek from way back. I went through the list and I’m doing pretty good, but there’s definitely a few I need work on. Never butchered a hog or conned a ship and my equation skills trail off before the end of the quadratic. I have had bones set, but I’ve never set one myself. As for the gallant death, we shall see.
Chris, I totally get what you are saying, it really makes a difference. But mostly it has been pretty good. Our friends that are pregnant or newly parents have been nothing but understanding. We were usually the first to send baby gifts or make an extra effort to meet the new baby, but right now it’s just so painful and so we take it slow. They totally get it and understand our distance and that has really helped. Lu still sorta has trouble with it, she feels bad, but I’m fine with it. We have a long time to get to know all of these kids and being around infants a lot is just too much.
As hard as it’s been, we know that we can’t let this poison our relationships. I keep having to remind myself that when I’m so angry and upset, but it’s vitally important. I can’t live a miserable life so I have to figure out how to be sad about Silas but happy to be alive, and to be happy for other people. Being with my nephew definitely does make me happy, so I do that.
mamaliza, the hiding is good, too, though. It’s necessary. You have to protect yourself and heal. Everyone does this their own way and there have been many times when I’ve walked right out of a baby situation I wanted nothing to do with. What I keep saying is that all the love I had to give to Silas has to go somewhere so my friend’s kids and Oren and all little child I see, I try to think of it that way. Doesn’t always work, but I try. That’s all we can do, right?
thank you all for reading and commenting, I appreciate it so much.
March 10, 2009 at 8:36 pm
keira
this just ripped me apart, chris. i don’t know what else to say except i love you both.
March 11, 2009 at 1:09 pm
bon
tears, Chris. you just brought me back to a moment i’d almost forgotten, where i too blew apart into a thousand pieces playing with my infant godson in our bed one morning a few months after Finn died, while his visiting parents slept in in the next room.
it was all things at once, so close to what might have been that it felt all wrong in a way, and quite alright in another, and just a lovely moment with a lovely baby in yet another. you found the words far better than i ever did.
thinking of you.
March 11, 2009 at 3:07 pm
jaimie
thinking of you…of lani…and silas…always. love jaimie
March 11, 2009 at 4:39 pm
Christa
I am so touched by your words and don’t know what to say. You and Lani are amazing, your determination to find a way to be happy again is a beautiful thing. Much love to you.
March 12, 2009 at 4:32 am
Kristi
I hope this doesn’t sound argumentative, because I don’t mean it that way and I think I know what you meant, but I just want to acknowlege that YOU ARE A REAL DAD WITH AN ACTUAL SON and I’m sure he loved seeing his mommy and daddy having a wonderful night with his cousin.
What a lovely post. I don’t understand how both of you are so adept at conveying your emotions so clearly through written word. I’d never be able to come close to the tangiblility (is that a word???) of your emotions as stated on your blog.
March 12, 2009 at 12:50 pm
Marybeth
Congratulations on not only facing & getting through that night with your nephew, but also for doing it with love, tenderness, and an open heart. I am glad that you are able to have so much love still inside of you, mixed in there with all that pain. I hope that night helped you to heal a little, although I know that you will never be fully healed. That was a very brave thing to do. I am sure that Oren soaked up all the love coming from you & Lani. I am thinking about both of you as you continue to take whatever steps you need to next. Be kind to yourselves. Although you may not feel it, it is clear from the posts here that you are an inspiration for many who are going though the same pain and emotions. And also an inspiration for many, like me, who are not.
March 13, 2009 at 8:56 am
tntstanifer
I am just moved beyond words. It is incredibly hard to even see babies after a loss, much less interact with them. You are growing in this grief journey and I am so happy to see it. I even had moments like this with my own baby born AFTER my loss. There are no replacements for our sons and there will always be “emotional” reminders of this throughout our lives. Keep the hope and may it be fulfilled with a brother or sister of Silas soon!
March 14, 2009 at 11:27 pm
Cibele
my heart breaks for you
March 16, 2009 at 9:18 am
Auntie Lis
thank you for writing about oren. i am honored that his name lives on these pages. i am grateful for the love and absolute adoration that you and lani have layed upon our son.
i cannot begin to imagine anything good or positive to be found in the loss of silas. all i know is that things have changed for our family. chris, i feel closer to you than ever before. my son has an aunt and uncle who find themselves in the strange position of rewriting life as they knew it to be. what was time, love and life spent with silas are now gifts given to oren. i am witnessing a bond between you and your brothers that seems stronger and more present than in the 11 years i have been a part of this family. we are leaning on and loving each other in ways that i have never experienced – not even with my own blood relatives. you and lani seem to have formed an even deeper spiritual connection. the way i see you two touch and look at one another now – they are the unspoken moments that you connect in the loss you have suffered together. what does this mean? i would trade it all and more for the chance to know your son, my nephew, and watch him grow into a beautiful boy. but the powerful changes that have taken place in our lives since silas’ death are not lost on me.
i love you both so much.
May 22, 2009 at 3:01 am
Blue Rain
Jesus Christ… this is just breaking my heart..