Lucky

Sometimes I feel blessed but not lucky.  Sometimes I feel lucky and don't know what all my blessings actually are....

I was talking to a fellow BLM and dear sweet friend the other day on the phone.  She is a little bit farther along on this journey than I am and I have looked to her for some specific help on mine.  She has supported me in ways more than she will ever know.  And hopefully I have given her the support she needs and comfort when it is not coming from anywhere else.  I know a lot of what she is feeling and she knows the same for me.

Almost.

This is her fourth Christmas without her angel baby and my third and we were talking about the struggles we encounter during the holidays....the tears at the drop of a hat....the traditions that are happy but sad....the acknowledgement of our babies that is and isn't there and how to acknowledge them...still.  I was telling her how it has been killing me the last few months whenever I see Chase's photos around the house--and I see them All.The.Time.  They are everywhere.  Not huge photos but little tiny "reminders" posted in about every room.  Our bedroom, my bathroom counter, the office, the kids' rooms, the refrigerator door.  The one on the refrigerator door is one my daughter put there this summer--a magnet that was in her school locker last year.  Its of her holding her baby brother.  The photo is a snapshot in time--a moment in time that is dreadfully painful.  And whenever I see that photo, I feel on the edge of a very high cliff....one that if I am not careful I'll slip and fall right off of.  Those moments were so dark in my memory.  So very tragic and so very very painful.  For a long time I needed those photos around me everywhere.  I needed them to keep him near me.  Everywhere I go.  To see him....not all those tubes and the machines and the blood.  But I saw him as my little boy.   

Now when I see those photos I see the moment in time that they were taken.  And it reminds me of what a painful time in my life that was.  It's hard to pull through that and see our son for the babe that he was.  I feel and see that pain all over again.  

And then while talking to my friend I realize that I am lucky.  So.Very.Lucky.  to have those pictures.  To have held my sweet boy.  To have touched him and felt him and seen him.  She never had that privilege and for that I am deeply saddened.  I am so very grateful for having those pictures and that thought helps me see past the darkness of my photos.  I am very lucky.  I wish so badly she had a picture.  I'm sure she does in her mind but one to see with her eyes and make a connection.  Never in a million years would I have thought that I would be so *lucky* to have pictures with tubes and blood and machines of a very very sick child and that the child would be mine.  But I am.  And I love them with every ounce of my soul.  Thank you to my sister for taking those pictures.  Thank you to God for giving me those four days with my son. Thank you to my son for giving us the love you gave us in that hospital room and I am so thankful that we were all with you when you left us that very sad and painful day.  Because you felt loved, from the very beginning, to the very end.  And that love is still present and felt every day of our lives. ...til we meet again little man.... I love you.

The visit

Chase is buried in a cemetery 7 hours away, so we don't get to visit his grave but once a year.  This makes the visit all the more painful and momentous.  It's not something we do every day and get used to.  Though I don't think anyone can ever get used to visiting their child's gravesite.

We had a very short window of opportunity for this trip as Reese has had baseball games nearly every other day or two this past week/weekend.  So we got to the cemetery Sunday.  It was a very different feeling traveling this time.  First and foremost, I had my baby in the car seat this time.  The car seat that for so long, hadn't been used.  I remembered two years prior, instead of that car seat, we had a casket in our Sequoia.  A casket with the body of one of our children.  That was a feeling that nearly sent me over the edge.  I couldn't think about it during that 7 hour drive, or I could feel myself losing my mind.  But it was hard not to.  I thank Chase for carrying me through those days mostly.  Giving me the grace to handle all of that.  It hurts to remember...it always will.  

I remember buying flowers last year to take to the grave.  We all agreed on an arrangement and I remember wondering if the checker would ever guess in a million years what we were buying these flowers for as she commented on how pretty they were.  This year, they each picked out their own arrangement, and I still wondered....and it still hurts.  I will never get used to that feeling.  And I still feel like teetering on the edge of sanity when I buy those flowers for my sweet boy.  It's a very surreal feeling.

Owen slept nearly the entire three hour drive Sunday morning to the cemetery.  Leaving me to myself for the ride....again, remembering last year and the sadness of the drive.  Having my rainbow in my arms this year definitely helped me, somewhat through distracting me, somewhat as a physical comfort.  When we got to the cemetery, I woke him up because I wanted to take pictures.   And he cried.  The entire stay.  It was terribly windy outside and I know he didn't like it.  But it really infringed on our visit.  We all had our time at the grave and said our prayers and did what we needed to do.  But with Owen crying, it certainly wasn't as peaceful as the trip was last year.  To make matters worse, I looked up in the sky and found not a single cloud.  I looked all around me....searching.....but I didn't see him.  I didn't feel him.  As hard as I tried, I felt so abandoned.  I couldn't find any sign of my baby boy.   I felt guilty having Owen in my arms.... and I couldn't comfort Owen at all, either.  So I didn't get to be alone with Patric much at all.  Everything was just all wrong.  My other kids looked so grown up next his grave this year.  They were so little when I remember them at the burial.  It makes me so sad to see them sad and to know how their brother's death has changed them.  It was time to leave and of course Owen calms down right away.  But I was so sad because I couldn't feel Chase around me.  I wondered if God was mad at me and wasn't going to let me feel my baby's presence anymore.   This made me more sad.

After a while of silence in the car and once the kids started watching their movie again, I told Patric how I felt, all the while crying.  I mean, why would I expect to feel Chase there at his grave, 7 hours away from where he always is.  He's with us everywhere we go every day.  Why do we need to go all this way to visit him on his birthday/death day?  Of course, how could we not visit his grave is also the question.  I was so confused....and then....all of a sudden Patric turned up the radio.  And we heard it.  Sarah was singing Angel.   And I felt him.  It was like Chase was telling me at that moment, "It's okay, Mom.  You're exactly right, I'm not there at that cemetery.  That's just my body.  I'm with you guys all the time.  See, I'm right here."  And for as long as the song played, I closed my eyes and felt my baby boy.  Thankful for his presence.  And after that I was okay.  Because I knew he wanted me to be okay.  

As a babyloss mom, we are always searching for signs.  Some may call them coincidences or just luck.  But as a babyloss mom, I'll take what I can get.  And I got it yesterday.....I miss you baby boy.  I will never stop loving you and I will never stop thinking of you.  Sweet dreams, little man.  Godspeed.

Same....but different

Some days I still can't believe it.  I can't believe I'm not pregnant anymore....or that I may never be pregnant again--and I'm not sure after the c-section if I ever would go through that again!  Things are so fresh from the memories I have of Chase.  My house was cluttered with food, flowers, toiletries....just like it is now, but last time it was because we had lost our son.  People stopped by, brought dinners, just like last time, but it was because Chase died, this time it's the opposite.  The whole time we were in the hospital....it seemed like such a thin line between where we are currently traveling and where we had been just 22 months ago.  The only difference was that we had a bassinet in our room with a baby in it this time.  I had to pinch myself several times to realize what was happening before me....or to snap myself out of what had happened last time we went down this road.  This time it was just so happy.....last time it was so incredibly painful.   The difference between bringing a baby home and not bringing a baby home......and to know what both sides are like---it's almost surreal in itself.  You are constantly checking yourself, making sure it's not a dream....just like last time.....

I talk to Owen all the time about his brother.  I use him to talk to Chase....send messages to him for me....more directly than I could before Owen was here.  I use Owen to gauge Chase's growth that I couldn't before because I had no frame of reference.  Now, my little frame of reference is staring me right back in the face.  And I can't deny him.  Chase was here so much for me to get through the pregnancy with Owen.  Now Owen is here to help me on my grief cycles with Chase again.  Kinda weird how they "piggyback" on each other....guess that's what brothers do.  I picked up Chase's footprints and held them next to Owen's and guess what?  They were the exact.same.size.  I can't even begin to put into words how I miss my little boy.  Or how much I love my newest little boy.  These two are part of each other.  Just like we all are part of each other.  But these two are connected--extra special.  I can feel it.  I know Owen can feel it.  And I look forward to nurturing that bond as he grows.  It won't be obsessive, or in a negative way.  Just in a loving, guardian angel sort of way.  That we are all protected by Chase in all we do.  

We are so happy--I couldn't be more so about our family.  We are so very full of love.  We have a full house, a full car...I'm not sure what more we could ask for.  Though we miss our little boy more than anything, we are thankful for him.  For the gift he brought us.  For the gift he continues to bring us each and every day.  Welcome little Owen, to a family full of life and love and happiness.  May you share in these with us and continue to teach us more about your brother that we never got to know. 

It hurts to know so much

Last night I went to check on Karly and found her deep in thought about something while she was getting ready for bed.  I could tell she had something on her mind just by the way she was going about her business.  In fact, her mind was almost speaking out loud.  When I asked her what she was thinking about, she said, "Mom...(long pause) do you think the baby is going to be okay?"  I said, "Definitely, I do, honey."  And she started talking about her close friend at school whose mom just had a baby boy a couple weeks ago and how she wanted that so bad.  "Hope is just so lucky."

Yes, Hope is lucky.  But only you know how lucky she is, sweet girl.  Hope loves her new baby brother for sure, but she doesn't have the slightest idea how incredibly lucky she is.  And I wish you didn't know either, baby girl.  Karly said, "It's not fair, mom."  I know.  It most definitely is not fair, but you will get to hold this baby brother very soon.  "But mom I have to wait like 6 months or something and that is just so long."  Well, not quite that long but you get to feel him move in my tummy and talk to him and you'll get to hold him in your arms soon enough.  You just have to wait a little bit longer, honey.

This is the strangest thing about this pregnancy.  Not only for me, but for all of us, in some ways it seems like a continuation of Chase's pregnancy.  I don't know why it feels that way.  The time between Chase being born and getting pregnant again certainly was real.  It was painful.  And it was long (or so it seemed).  But now that I am pregnant and with big belly, it seems like I've been pregnant the whole time and we are still waiting for this baby to come out.  Why?  We all miss Chase and talk about him and ache for him daily.  It's not like he's still in my tummy at all.  I have heart-to-heart convos with Reese & Emma, too, about missing Chase and longing for this baby, but not wanting to forget Chase.  This feeling is odd and a struggle for us all.  But this is how we operate.  And, as tough as it is, we are making the most of it.  Loving our angel in heaven.....yet dreaming of holding our next one that is on his way to earth in due time.   

  

Ready to clean....

This is not about dusting and cleaning on a normal basis. I don't dust regularly anyway, but it was beyond time to clean up some thigns that had collected in the crib. I'd call it Chase's crib but it is really our crib. All the kids have slept in there and any subsequent children will sleep in there. But for the last year and a half, it has been filled with memories of Chase. From the first week we had gotten home from the hospital until now, I have collected cards, small gifts, photos, letters, sculptures, clothes and anything that reminded me of our little boy. I had been feeling for the past couple months that I was about ready to box up these things. I still want them available to me to look at whenever I want, but I wanted to get a pretty little (medium-sized, actually) box to collect it all in. And the crib was getting pretty dusty anyway--it was time to do something.

So I ordered a pretty box and assembled it and started storing his things. Though it seemed a pretty unemotional task at first, the wave came over me, as I figured it would. In some ways it was comforting to see go through these memories--in a way it's hard to describe. But then the sadness....the deep sadness....came. And the tears.... Those things that will always be there. Not far from the surface. I had saved things like the hospital bracelets which I have in a shadow box. But I forgot about my hospital bracelet. The sight of that brought back a bunch of memories. I had even put back some of the clothes that we had on the day we held him and he died. Those are things that I don't see as "normal" and when I would see them come through the laundry, I'd think about our last day with Chase so I finally pulled them an put them in his crib. I have stuffed animals and wonderful, wonderful cards from my family that have words in them I cherish very deeply. Words that bring tears, but words that mean so much to me that it is hard to explain in a human capacity. I have little airplanes and nerf bullets that Reese gave to his brother that I put in this box. I have Reese's little santa hat that Chase was going to wear last Christmas. I have Chase's first birthday cards and memories and my mother's day cards from Patric and the kids the month after he died. I probably have hundreds of photos in there, several duplicates, but of course none of them I could throw away, so they are all there. And then all the legal documents from the funeral home are in another matching box, just smaller. The baby book from the funeral home with all the signatures of those who attended the funeral, which still surprises me to read through sometimes. I have my blog book in there, too, which is sacred to me. It is what helped me most through this loss....writing down my feelings and the comments from those who cared enough to tell me I wasn't alone on this journey.

I still have plenty photos, some candles, statues and things on the wall to see....my blanket I sleep with every night... And we talk and pray about Chase every day. But for now, the crib is empty. We hope to fill it again some day. Maybe we will move first and I won't put the crib back up until we need it. Maybe it will sit here until I am ready to take it down. Maybe....

My memories are in my heart. They are in my head and in my soul. And if I need something tangible, I can go to the boxes and touch him. I know I have a lot of "stuff" but I couldn't get rid of any of it. It's as close as I want it to be. Without having him here.....it's as close as I want for now.

I am curious, for those that are a year or more out from their loss, what have you done with your memories? I would love to hear your stories.

Emotions...and places I won't go

I have rarely known emotions to have such a physical feeling until I lost Chase. Winning games, falling in love, getting married, I guess. But this is different. I can feel the dark cloud coming over me in my heart and when my head realizes this, it almost feels like a weight being laid on my back. Sometimes I try to meet it head on and work my way through it. Sometimes it overtakes me and I don't do anything about it but cry. Like every night I go to sleep. I thank Chase often, for showing me things about myself and Patric and the kids that I never knew before. Like how strong we all are or exactly how much love we have for each other. And also for teaching me about people and relationships and what a true friend really is. I can only imagine what he could have taught people along the way if he were here with on this earth.

So when I laid in bed last night, on my left side, I remembered Chase being there. Now I know him as Chase, but then, it was "baby". I thought it was so cool that I got to be with him all the time. It was so cool that he was attached to me....a part of me. A part of his daddy that I got to love, talk to, and hold whenever I wanted (not that I had a choice!). I think of that everytime I lay on my left side. And I feel him there. I wished I would have hugged him more, though maybe I did. He was so active and I had my hands on my belly most of the time. But now I want more. I was so lucky to carry him for those 9 months. I knew that then but I really know that now. I miss you so much I feel you, buddy. You are always a part of me, always, always with me....

***

I found my ultrasound pictures yesterday. They were from my 20 week appointment and there were several. In one of the profiles, his little arm is bent in front of his face at 90 degrees and it is so perfect and so big! You can actually see his muscles--he has little biceps and deltoids and it is so cute. After I found them, I kept looking. I looked in all sorts of hiding places (places I don't ever clean for some reason) for something. I don't know what I was looking for but I kept looking. I went through his dresser and his onesies are all there, most of them yellow but a few blue sports ones because my mom and my sisters knew he was a boy. I stared at his crib and all the cards, pictures, letters, books and momentos from his birth. Sometimes I read through them, sometimes I can't. I don't know what I was hoping to find. Something new, I guess. I don't want it to get old. I don't want to get used to the fact that I have a dead son. I want to keep something fresh. Something new. But I can't.

There are moments of his birth and his life and thereafter that I don't talk about to anyone, including myself. I don't write about it anywhere. And I don't really even let myself think about. I have read other babyloss mamas' words and have commented a few times about these moments or thoughts I have had, but I don't go there too deep. I have not felt ready and I am not sure when I will be. But reading their words makes me think that I will need to do that, too. Sometime. There are a lot of tears in those moments that I don't let myself recall. There is a lot of pain there. I don't want to go there yet I'm starting to feel that this is all I have left. There will be nothing more after that for me to "find" or learn about Chase. And I don't know what I will find talking, writing, or thinking about those moments. But one day, I'll be ready.

All wrapped up

It seems to come every month--that wave of emotions. Today they came. Of course some it is hormonal, but it's the spiral. That spiral of grief I am told about by others who have lost children that I am tired of. I don't want this feeling to keep coming back to me for the rest of my life. I don't want to be whipped around the curve only to be hit yet again by this emotional wave. This awful feeling of being punched in the gut, cut open, my heart ripped out of my chest, and beaten to a pulp. I want this feeling to go away. It hurts so bad....each and every time it comes around...it hurts just like it was yesterday. Because I miss my baby boy right now....but I know I will miss my baby boy turning 4 one day and playing ball with him. I will miss him turning 8 and going fishing with his dad. I will miss him turning 10 and going to ball tournaments. I will miss him turning 12 and playing ambush with his big brother. I will miss him turning 14 and his sisters giving him advice. I will miss him turning 18 and.....well, I never would have looked forward to him leaving home. And there is so much more after that. I am missing out on so much with him....

There is so much to think about, mentally I'm wiped out. Attorney crap, the gravemarker, trying to add on to our family....things on my mind that can get so overwhelming. And it's hard not to try yet being careful not to try too hard. Vulnerable as we are, it's tricky not to get too wrapped up in it all. When it was really nothing to get wrapped up in in the first place.

However, I read on babyloss blogs about a new life and what starts out as such excitement, encouragment and hope, quickly turns into "what about me?" After asking "why me?" for so long, now I ask "why not me?" When will it start to make sense? When will I get back on with my life? Why is this spiral sustaining itself? When am I going to wake up from this nightmare? I want so bad to fix this, to fix us, but I know so deeply that I cannot. So, then, I want to live. Live whatever life sends our way. I'm reading my Little Prince book, feeling comfort in that I think of Chase with every word in it. So I keep on. In the spiral that this path seems to be.