Abigail Carol Wolf was born early in the morning on the last day of 2022.

Her birth was lovely, quiet and peaceful, another beautiful waterbirth for Meg, and another birth I was privileged to attend. She – individually as a person, as an isolate being in time apart from all other things brought me nothing but pure happiness. Her safe arrival and the safety of Meg were a relief that felt like bricks were being lifted from me.

I know I haven’t spoken much here about Charlotte’s death, and I don’t think I will either – it was an intimate and terrible time that’s kept in the hearts of the people who lived that night and the days and weeks afterwards. That experience and its traumatic events somehow became then entangled with the unfolding pandemic and its isolation and to say we are changed would be an understatement. Some wounds – even once they are healed, just leave scars.

We knew this leading up to Abigail’s birth, that we were scarred and frightened people, and that it wasn’t going to be an easy time for any of us, but Meg and Alex especially, of course. For all of us the idea of putting her down to sleep was unimaginable. The idea that something might happen to her or that Meg would have to endure something more wasn’t anything my grandmothers heart could seem to manage, and I know her parents were certainly more scared than I was.

After speaking with grief counselors and mental health professionals, we came up with a plan. It was loose, but it was a plan, and it was this: As a family and a team we were going to do whatever it took for everyone to feel as safe as possible for as long as it needed to happen. I know. It’s a plan that was a little loose on the details.

The day Abigail was born – so was her team, and our willingness as a family to lean into each other and this experience has been one of the most amazing periods of my life. After her birth Megan, Alex, Elliot and Abigail came here to live with us, and for the first sixteen days of her life, around the clock, day and night… at every moment… we held Abigail.

We watched her breathe, we touched her sweet cheeks. We supported each other and passed her off from loving arms to loving arms as we each got too tired or needed sleep. Meg would tend her while she was awake, then when she wanted to sleep, her father would take her. When he got tired, Alex would wake Joe, Joe would wake me, I’d wake Alex again, and all of us would trot her immediately to her mother if she made so much as a peep.

While our first goal was always to take care of Meg and Abigail, so much more happened. We cooked, we talked, we cried and told each other what we were afraid of. We supported Elliot as he worked through his own fears for his sister and every one of us was gentle, and kind and grateful and scared. Each one of us held that wee sweetness in the night and smelled her hair and breathed her in, and willed her with our own steadiness. Please be able to stay, please stay.

Shortly after Charlotte died, another baby was born in our family and from our place of grief we couldn’t figure out how those people could possibly be relaxed. We asked and were told that they had been frightened, but that after a few days it had been so clear to them that the baby was healthy that they’d relaxed and stopped worrying. Maybe, we thought, maybe that will happen to us.

It didn’t, or I guess it would be fairer to say it hasn’t. Maybe it’s coming, but so far Abigail’s hearty good health just seems so irrelevant. Charlotte was perfect too, and it was no protection.

Around the two week mark, we started talking about what would happen next. How long could we keep doing this? How long is it realistic to live this way? Every time it came up the answer was the same. As long as it takes. We can do this as long as it takes, and until we are all ready. Over the next nights, deciding that we were kinda sorta ready (or as ready as we ever would be) Alex started putting Abigail down, but still watching her as she slept. When he needed to sleep she got passed off to me or her Poppy, and we still stayed awake and held and rocked her. Over a few more nights we transitioned to sleeping when she slept. None of us were forced, none of us were pushed. If any one member of Team Abigail didn’t feel ready for a next step, it wasn’t taken until we were all there. (Joe and I are immeasurably grateful that Alex and Megan gave us this gift.) Each one of us (including Ellie) were allowed the time and the space to work through everything we needed to without judgement or pressure, and in return, we all did the best we could.

I know that some of you reading this will think we’re bananas. I know that because there are people in our real life who think we’re bananas, and I kinda see it. We’re talking about a team of people sleeping in shifts to prevent something unpreventable but this has all made so much sense to all of us and in my heart I know that supporting my child as she learns how to live after loss, as this family learns how to live with this sort of fear has made so much more sense than asking people to buck up – to even expecting myself to buck up. That first night, if you’d have told me that I was to put Abigail in her bed and walk away you’d have had more luck convincing me that I should leave her in a snowbank. The idea terrified me, and no amount of therapy, good thinking or resolve has changed that. This time we’ve spent together though, not only did it feel like the only right plan for us, it also turned out to make it possible to have something other than the fear – to be able to enjoy Abigail and celebrate her as much as we have been. Oddly, this bananas plan has ended up with everyone being the least bananas.

Last night we had a lovely dinner together and thanked each other for this remarkable time, and today after 22 days in the embrace of the team, Meg and Alex and Elliot and little Abbie went home to all sleep in their own beds, and I am not going to say that all of us feel safe, but I am saying we all feel ready, and I am so proud of Meg and Alex.

Someday when she is big enough, I look forward to telling Abigail the story of her first few weeks, and how very loved she is, and how far the gift of her life inspired us to go for her.

* Honourable mention to our sweet Amanda who isn’t in the team picture, but was here almost every night for dinner, for every phone call, for all we needed. We couldn’t have done it without her.

**I’ll post about Abigail’s blanket soon.