New dawn, new day

Not quite literally dawn, although only a few hours from it. Vivian was in fine form tonight, and by fine, I mean screaming her head off from approximately 8 p.m. until midnight when she finally fell asleep draped over my shoulder. Screamed bloody murder for four hours. All Richard and I could figure was that she got a mean case of gas that would not go away -- not with gas drops, burps, farts, thumping on the back, rubbing of the tummy, swaddling, stomach pressure, anything. My head wanted to explode. The cats kept giving us plaintive looks that said "why won't she shut up?!?"

Eventually she did, after spitting up copious amounts of milk in my hair and down my back. Don't I make it sound fun? Don't you all want to run out and get knocked up? Now, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade Vivian or her tantrums for anything (well, maybe the tantrums for some nice alpaca yarn, but since they seem to be a package deal with Viv, I guess I'm stuck with them). I love her more than life itself, but the 4-hour crying marathon was... trying to say the least. But she is asleep now, and of course, looking positively angelic.

Doesn't she look peaceful? Appearances can be deceiving.

I've been so focused on Vivian, and the day-to-day trials and joys of life with her, that I haven't had much time to reflect on Eliza, and how our loss of her last year has changed me. But this weekend, I finally finished my quilt square for the Preeclampsia Foundation's Memory Quilt. I had been sent my square to decorate back in April, but it had sat, untouched ever since. It was due Aug. 1st, but I kept telling myself I just didn't have the time, with Viv here.

But when Rosemary, the volunteer who is coordinating the quilt (and sewing the final piece all together) emailed me to ask whether I would be sending in my square, I felt guilty. Guilty that I was avoiding this simple way to remember Eliza, and guilty that I was using Vivian as an excuse. So Sunday I decided to knuckle down and get it done. It's nothing fancy, just her name, Eliza Pearl, her birth/death date, July 4, 2006, and an oyster with a pearl inside. Once I started, I couldn't stop until I had finished. It felt really good to have finished it and sent it off. It's not much, but it's one more thing that I can know that I've done for her. And it's one more way that I can move forward into a new day.

Eliza's quilt square