Dear Ian

Hi, angel. Happy six months in heaven, pumpkin.
Happy for you, not so happy for me.
I think about you every day, but today I couldn't get you off my mind. I kept thinking about all the wonderful milestones you surely would have reached by now.
I still have all your things. I'm not ready to let them go. I can't believe I have lived without you in my arms for six months. That's half a year!
A few weeks ago Tyler asked me if the reason you had gone to heaven was because he used to lay on my belly when you were inside me. Don't worry, I told him that wasn't the reason and to never think that it was his fault. I think your brothers miss you, they just don't know how to express it. They were so excited to have a baby brother. I remember how they would practice holding you with some of their stuffed animals and how they would tell me all of the wonderful things they wanted to do with you.
I love you so much, Ian. Sometimes I close my eyes and picture you laying on my chest like your brothers used to do when they were babies. And sometimes I can smell you on me.
It's hard not to think about all the things you'd be doing by now. It's hard not to wonder how I'm supposed to get through the rest of my life without you in it.
Please know that the day I take my last breath on this earth, I will go with a smile because I know you will be waiting for me. But hang in there for a little bit, because I still have a few things to do here. You have two brothers who need me and I'd really love to make a few contributions to this planet before I go spend eternity with you.
I miss you, honey, but I'm ok. Momma has good days and bad days, but I'll be alright. I smile more often these days, but I still have the need to shed a few tears for you every day. My heart aches every second of the day, but I've learned to soothe the pain with the love of your brothers and all the sweet memories of you tumbling in my belly.  I could have sworn you were going to be an acrobat :)
I love you, angel boy. Come visit me tonight, please. I need to feel you close. Fly high little cherub.
Love,
Mommy

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Six

Today I watched my oldest boy turn six.

I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday. He was soft and tiny and perfect in every way. I remember crying when I had to leave him behind in the NICU for nearly three weeks. I remember the happiness I felt when the doctor said I could take him home.

My baby. I will always think of him as the boy who gave me my most important title. The boy who made me a mom for the first time.

It's hard to believe I lived for twenty-one and a half years without him.  It's hard to believe he turned six today. Where has time gone? Not long ago, I was sleeping entire nights with him on my chest. Our hearts in sync. His skin warm against mine. His tiny hand wrapped around my finger.

I'm so proud of the tiny person he's become. So noble and sweet. Generous and shy. Adventurous and curious. Pleasant and warm.

I love you, my little pumpkin-bear. You make me happy every day. Being your momma is such a privilege. Happy birthday, honey. Momma loves you infinity.

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Lessons

When I was eighteen I thought I had the world figured out. I fancied my self a wise woman, when (really) most of my wisdom came from fortune cookies and sappy quotes I read on internet chain letters on AOL.
Boy, was I ever so wrong.
I thought I was brilliantly wise beyond my years when life slapped me on the face during the summer of 2009 when a doctor stood in front of me and told me I may have cancer, while acting as if he had just told me that I had an ingrown toenail. I spent that summer crying myself to sleep, worrying about what my babies' lives would be like without their momma, having nightmares about them watching me die, gushing obscene amounts of blood from between my legs, praying I wouldn't pass out until after Joe got home. God was very present in my life that year. I learned how incredibly fragile life is and how not a single second should ever be taken for granted. He also saved me from very painful chemotherapy treatments, because two days before my first scheduled chemo session, after two very humiliating procedures, the thing they called cancer was gone.
That entire ordeal taught me many life lessons, but still, I wasn't perfect. I continued to make mistakes.
It wasn't long before I was complaining about my life and passing judgement on situations that didn't pertain to me. I opened my mouth and gave everyone my two cents on anyone who wasn't living their life the way I thought they should. I let resentment take over and I spoke unkind words, indirectly hurting three lovely, innocent beings I so love, who got caught in the adult crossfire. I haven't seen them in nearly two years as a result.
Then, life kicks my arse yet again, when I realize the very same thing I once criticized others for is the same that is happening to me. I could sit here and spill the details but that would take all night ....and it's rated R.
Still, life lessons kept flowing my way.
Not long ago, just when I thought I had achieved a new level of inner peace, my five year old son starts having inexplicable seizures, all while I'm eight months pregnant. I thought I had seen scary before. Nope...watching your child twist and curl in ways you'd never seen before in the middle of the night is a WHOLE other dimension of scary.
By this point, I'm quite sure God is through handing me lemons, at least for the moment, but then the unthinkable happens... something I always thought only happened to others.

I love you, Ian.

I'm incredibly blessed to have some amazing people in my life who have offered their support, time and prayers during my toughest moments.

I recently found a notebook with a note to myself that said:

Don't worry about what others think. Don't dwell on your mistakes. Try to be a better you every day. Trust God. See the goodness in everything. Be compassionate. Be kind, even to those who have been unkind to you. Make your own path. Think before you speak. Enjoy the small things. Don't waste your tears on anything that's not worth it. Move forward, not backward. Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself. Don't expect anything from anyone. Don't worry about the religious, political or personal beliefs of others. Keep you promises. Life doesn't owe you anything. You want something, go get it. It's ok to get dissapointed, but don't get discouraged. Be you. Give love.

And I wrote that when I was sixteen.

Life has hit me, kicked me, slapped me, stomped on me, chewed me up and spit me out.....but I'm still here. I don't want to miss out on all the wonderful things life has in store because I feel the need to have a pity party.
Everyone goes through things. Every experiences emotional pain. Everyone has something someone said or did to them that left them marked for the rest of their lives. Don't allow those things to define your life. This life is yours. And you only get one.

Sadness is normal. Grief is normal. Anger is normal. Emotions make you human. What's not normal is to sit around, watching life pass you by, waiting for it to hand you all the things others have worked hard for. It's not normal to judge others when you should be focusing on your own faults. It's not okay to point out someone's flaws, in order to distract others from yours.

Lesson after lesson, I still don't know as much as I thought I did when I was eighteen. All I know is this is life is mine and I intend to make the most of it.

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Your Life Goes On

Your life goes on. Mine stopped that day. Just because my heart is still pumping blood throughout my body, it doesn't mean I feel alive. Yes, I know everything happens for a reason. Yes, I'm aware that I have other children who need me. Yes, I've heard that time heals all wounds. Yes, I understand that "life goes on".  I have a calendar. I see the days go by. Yet, every morning since that day, I look in the mirror and see nothing. I see a reflection that shouldn't be there because I'm empty and I feel like I'm nothing. I'm not sure if that makes sense to anyone but me. This sadness is much too deep for words.
Day after day, month after month, my heart aches the same way it did that morning. February 23, 2012 will be forever engraved in my mind. The years will go by and I will always be able to tell anyone who asks about every minute of every hour of that day. Meanwhile, well-meaning people will try to tell me how to grieve properly or how not to grieve at all.
One more day without you. Nearly half a year. I'll never be the same. You taught me more in 39 weeks than I could have ever imagined. You taught me patience and how to love deeper. You showed me how to appreciate the small things and to be humble and understanding. Because of you I speak sweeter and I leave judgement solely to God.
Life is short. I'm not done here yet, little angel. I have to leave a mark on this earth the same way you left a mark on my life. I know one day we'll be together again and I will hold you in my arms for eternity.
Life is short…but a lifetime without you will seem so long.
I love you, Angel Boy. Momma loves you so much. Fly high, sweet cherub.

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Grief

I haven't been emotionally capable of logging into this blog for several months. It's a sad place with raw emotions that I somehow managed to type up while I was half dead inside.
Tears are making their way across my cheeks as I recall those long, lonely nights after I lost my boy. Nowadays, I can smile a lot more and focus on what I do have- two beautiful boys who need their momma, but I still have moments when the brokeness resurfaces and makes me wonder how I'm supposed to get through an entire lifetime without my baby.
Today would have been his first Independence Day. I miss him. Sometimes, I can smell him near me. And other times he visits me in my dreams.
I never knew this much sadness was possible. The what-ifs alone are enough to drive any stable-minded, averagely-sane, semi-normal person crazy. Not saying that I was any of those to begin with....but now I just feel like I've lost my mind on most days. I've become a hypochondriac, over-protective, paranoid, freak who thinks that weird diseases and freak accidents are waiting to happen to her and everyone around her.
And no, the Zoloft didn't help. If anything I'd say it made it worse. Call me weird, but drugging the pain away just doesn't work for me. I want to feel and cry and hurt. I feel a lot better after a good cry than I do after popping a few pills.
A good talk helps too. However, there are those people who mean well and think that by summarizing a lifetime's worth of "wise", cliche quotes that they've heard or read, will wash all your troubles away. You know the ones I'm talking about. "Everything happens for a reason" or "God never gives you anything you can't handle" or "he's in better place", etc.....
And of course there are those who think that a dose of tough love will "snap you out of it". Like I'm just supposed to pick up where I left off before the little person who lived inside me for 39 weeks, the one I so lovingly named and prepared for, the one whom I made a lifetime of plans with, died.
That's right. He died. And I'm not ok. I'm sad and I'm broken and I'm going to spontaneously cry and publicly hurt for as long as I need to, because I'm grieving, and that's ok. I will have days when the sadness will takeover and I simply won't be my "normal" self. And people will judge and talk about how I'm crying my life away and about how life goes on and how I should be happy about my two healthy children, but unless they ever walk down this path themselves, they will simply never know how selfish and ignorant they are making themselves look.
Nobody chooses this. And when it happens to you, you can't choose when or where or how often to hurt.
I love you, Ian. I hope you enjoyed the fireworks tonight, angel. I'm sure you did as you had the best seat in the house- heaven. Fly high sweet baby. Momma loves you.

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Pain

Last December, I had a toothache from hell. At one point, it got so bad that I stayed up all night crying and praying for some relief. With most illnesses you can run to the pharmacy or in worst cases the ER to get some sort of answers along with some meds, but with toothaches the options are limited, especially when you're pregnant. I remember thinking there couldn't possibly be any pain worse than a toothache.

I take it back.

I went to the dentist and had the tooth extracted. My mouth is no longer in pain. But my heart, well, it hurts badly. And I can't have it extracted. No amount of Ibuprofen or Acetaminophen could ease the deep pain I feel inside. At times, the pain is sharp and relentless. Other times, it's dull and achey, but it's always there. ALWAYS.

I'm supposed to be on maternity leave. Please, tell my why I just left a funeral home...I don't understand. It seems like a nightmare. The funeral director keeps talking about prices and "packages" like were here to buy a time-share. It seems cruel to  subject anyone to this after they've suffered the loss of a loved one. I'm lucky that Joe's sisters have handled most of these arrangements for me. I only had to show up to sign some papers, but I can imagine what it's like to have your heart shattered and throbbing with pain, and to want to lay your loved one to rest for eternity only to have a sales person approach you with their robotic, well-rehearsed "I'm so sorry for your loss" script and then attempt to make a sale while you're vulnerable and foggy.

I signed and left. I know I cried because there are black mascara tear trails on my cheeks, but my mind and my heart have blocked out most of the cold details. I don't care for small talk during moments of awkward silence ,while I sign a paper saying it's ok to have my baby buried here. I'm here because I don't have a choice. I doubt anyone has ever seeked their services out of pleasure.

This has truly been my first real encounter with death. There's really no way to describe the physical and emotional toll it has taken on me. There are moments when I feel paralyzed by pain. I have to force myself to function. I suppose that's what brings us all together as humans. No matter what age, race, gender, social status, etc...at the end of the day, we all feel pain. At one point or another, we all experience loss and heartbreak.  Pain of any sort is a humbling experience. You suddenly realize you don't care all that much about the petty things.

Excuse my francais, but all the shit that I once swore was my worst nightmare, is the same shit I would trade in this experience for right now. I'd take that toothache from hell back if I could go back and feel my baby moving inside me just one more time. I'd take on everyone else's trouble too, in exchange for a few more magical minutes cuddling with his tiny body.

And excuse my francais some more, but if I ever hear another woman moping and whining about the late night feedings and the loneliness and the fatigue and the lack of support, blah blah blah, I'm gonna have to tell her to shut the fuck up, because I'd give almost anything to have that right now. That's what babies do. Big deal. Get over it. If it bothers you so much then stop having babies.

The only thing that comforts me right now, is knowing that others have suffered or are suffering far more than I ever have, and they are okay.

And in time, I will be okay too.

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I sat in our rocking chair and cried like a baby today. If I could put this pain in a bottle and use it as a weapon of mass destruction, I'm sure I'd have enough to destroy several small countries.

I hurt so badly. I've become really good at lying. I can make people believe I'm okay, when inside I just want to run and scream until I collapse. Sometimes, I can even make myself think I'm okay.

I'm not fine. I'm hurt and I'm lost and I'm confused. I feel humiliated. I feel like life played a very dirty trick on me, by letting me plan and dream and hope and letting everyone watch me get excited about bringing new life into the world, only to take it all back and leave me behind broken and wounded. 

How am I supposed to go through an entire lifetime with this emptiness in my heart? How am I ever supposed to feel complete again? I hate having so many questions with no answers.

My arms ache for him. I fall asleep whispering his name and I wake up with the sting of the pain in my heart. I just want my baby boy. I want him so badly and I know there is nothing I can do to fulfill this need.

I love you, Ian. Last night I dreamed that you were still inside me and I could feel you moving, only to wake up and remember you are gone. I've cried more in the past 19 days than I have in my entire life, and I still have a lot more crying left to do. Please come visit me in my dreams tonight. I need you.

Momma loves you, little precious.

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