Magnolia's due date was February 28th. Delphinium had
arrived 12 days past her due date and we didn't expect Magnolia to be prompt. My
last day at school was that week, coinciding with our mid-winter break. I
spent a couple days of break cleaning up all of my art stuff, packing boxes and
sending things to storage in the school basement because I would be on leave
for the rest of the school year. Then I settled in at home to wait for
Magnolia's arrival.
My mother arrived a few days later and we busied ourselves with projects around
the house. Obsessive nesting work, like completely reorganizing the linen
closet and finding lids to all of our food storage containers and reorganizing
the matched containers in their drawer. We went for walks and made
puzzles and played lots of board games with Delphinium.
I saw our midwives each week and kept in touch with them by phone. Sasha
went with me for non-stress tests and biophysical exams--and the baby seemed to
be doing just fine. We saw an acupuncturist several times, resulting in
crampy contractions that stopped after an hour or so. I could feel my
body preparing for labor--I was dialating slowly and could feel my hips getting
all loosened up. So we kept waiting.
On Friday, March 18th we talked with our midwives about going to the hospital
on Monday to begin an induction. The baby seemed to be doing well, but we
would be past the 43 week mark by then and we all agreed it would be time to
induce. On March 19th, our midwife, Martine, came to our home in the
morning and swiped my membranes creating contractions that lasted for an hour
or so. Sasha and I went out on a long walk, hoping to get things moving
along, some contractions came and went for the rest of the day and in the
evening Martine returned to swipe my membranes again. Contractions
continued for a while and became noticeably stronger, Martine stuck around to
see what would happen.
At 2:41 a.m. Magnolia arrived in the world, still in her caul. It was March
20th, her sister's birthday, the first day of spring and the night of the
biggest full moon in 20 years. It felt like such an auspicious
night--full of mystical coincidence and amazing timing. Delphinium was
present for her birth and helped to cut her cord, wiped my brow with a cool
wash cloth and helped prepare and bring food to our birth team and her
grandmas.
2 hours after her arrival, Martine and the rest of our birth team had left
and Sasha and I were tucked up in our bed holding or beautiful new baby girl
and whispering about possible names while the others in our house slept.
We were so happy and full of the wonder gazing at the perfect beauty of a new
baby.
In the morning, Sasha and I slept as my mother and cousin cared for
Magnolia. Then Sasha's parents arrived with food for a birthday brunch
for Delphinium. She put on her fancy magenta dress, made a pile of all
her presents and held court at the dining room table while we passed around the
baby and sang "happy birthday". Delphinium had a great day,
surrounded by family and so excited to tell the story of her sister's birth
over and over again.
In the 22 months that she was with us, I invested so much thought and feeling
into Magnolia and Delphinium's sisterhood. It was hard not to think that
their shared birthday was fated somehow, that we were somehow meant to have two
special spring flower girls. Delphinium often says that her birthday
brings the spring, and we wholeheartedly agreed. Spring was our favorite
season of the year and it felt like a cosmic gift to have two wonderful girls
born on the vernal equinox.
Our two girls felt like a matched set, honoring this wonderful season of
rebirth and beauty that had always meant so much to us. When Magnolia
died last winter, I dreaded the arrival of spring and the turning into a new
season without her. The fact that the entry into that horrible season was
marked by their birthdays felt so awful, I took some small comfort in the fact
that it was still cold and dreary in March. I felt so sad as the sun
returned and the days began to warm.
A few weeks ago we celebrated their birthday for the second time without
Magnolia--which is one more time than we had while she was with us. And
mostly it felt like Delphinium's day. Which isn't wrong, but it was hard
to realize how much it felt like her day alone. Delphinium was turning 7
and so excited about it. The countdown began on the first day of March and the
negotiations about how we would celebrate had been going on for weeks before
then. She is young and ego-centric and utterly and completely normal in
her ecstatic anticipation of her birthday. But it hurts.
After
Magnolia was born, one of Delphinium's favorite things to share with strangers
or new friends was that her sister was born on her birthday. She was so
proud of that fact and would often tell people about how she had helped cut her
sister's cord and had been up in the middle of the night to watch her
birth. This year, it is still startling to hear people wish her a
happy birthday and to feel the absence of that part of the story. She
doesn't tell people now. Her sister was born on her birthday and that was
really special, but now her sister is dead and isn't here to share the
day. I understand why she doesn't talk about it, it seems to be her
version of our "how many children do you have?" challenge. It
is awkward and difficult to talk about. But not hearing it still makes me
sad.
This year we had a special birthday breakfast for Magnolia. We told
stories and shared memories, then we wrote notes to her on wildflower paper and
went to the Bronx River and dropped our messages into the gentle current and
watched them float away. After we took Delphinium to school, Sasha and I
went to Magnolia's daycare to deliver some new books as a birthday gift.
Then we put on happy faces and went to Delphinium's class with cupcakes and
after school we took her and a friend out for a fancy dinner and a trip to Cirque du Soleil.
Delphinium had a great day and we were glad we could make it special for
her. But I worry that it will always feel like her day, instead of their
day. We carved out some space for Magnolia in the day, but it feels like
a small token.
Something that once felt so special, now feels so complicated and
difficult. An auspicious arrival into the world, matched by a tragic
departure. A previously joyful beginning of a season that I now
resent. A
day we have to get through, rather than a day to really celebrate. I know that my feelings about this day will
continue to change and develop. I hope I will let go of the bitterness I feel
about it now. I hope to get to a place
where I can once again appreciate the coincidences and timing that made it such
a special day for our family. To
hold on to that and eventually look past all of the loss I associate with the
day. But I am not there yet and mostly it just hurts.
