Dates

When you have monumental moments in your life, you recognize dates.  Just the same as if these moments are tragedies.  And those dates are triggers.  When you see those dates, many thoughts come back.  For a long time after Chase died, every expiration date I read on groceries, medicine, frozen foods, mail packages....I referenced each of them to Chase.  Before or after.  Or on some occasions, the date was Chase's birthday, or his death date.  Or his due date.  For the last couple weeks, I have been seeing dates, thinking about those triggers.  Or hearing dates.  When I see or hear about something on or after February 11th, I think to myself, "is that going to be happy or sad for me?  Is that going to be before or after a tragedy?  How is our life going to be different at that time?"  I see that date a lot--it's on the milk cartons, the meat packages.  And I remember that feeling when Chase died.  I know I thought about it before he was born, too, and thought with excitement about how our life would be changed by that date and it would be so exciting.  I want to think the same now when I see February 11th, but those thoughts creep in and I wonder if my world will come crashing down by the time that milk is expired.  I don't make hair or dentist appointments, I don't sign up for baby emails, I don't do anything in advance of that date.  Because it is such a huge date for us that I need to let it get here.  If I anticipate it too much, I might be let down.  If I make plans afterward, I will remember that I set that appointment before......it happened.  

I know it sounds crazy.  As does much of what I blog about these last few weeks.  I guess it's just all those feelings and emotions that come along on this journey.  And most wouldn't understand.  But seeing these future dates have been bothering me for a while now....and there is nothing I can do about it.  Just get past it.  And of course I don't want to wish time away, because I have precious time on my hands right now.  Every day I am carrying this little boy is a gift.  I wouldn't give that up for the world.  But I know futures are uncertain.  And there is pain...just as there is happiness.  But I just don't know what is out there for us.  I know both sides....all too well.  And I don't want to see or hear another February 11th (or later) date, until I have mine.  And it is all good.

An emotional journey

Sometimes I forget.  I get so used to these kicks in my growing tummy and feeling them all throughout the day, every day, and I forget that I am the only one who has these constant reminders of this angel that is soon to be gracing our arms, our home, our hearts.  I spent the morning with Emma last Friday in the doctor's office waiting to have a terrible rash of hers  looked at, which turned out to be an allergy.  But I was grateful for the alone time we spent together.  We read, we talked, she watched some TV but mostly we talked.  She was very emotional and I thought this had maybe brought on or aggravated her rash, she was so emotional.  She wanted reassurance, or guarantee, that the baby was going to be fine.  And then she wanted just to talk about Chase.  She didn't want Chase to be forgotten when we brought this baby home.  Chase was/is her little brother.  He reminded us all of her and she was so proud of that.  This was very special to her and she didn't want that to ever go away....even though everything feels so distant the more time passes.   I tried to share with her my experience with this pregnancy....my reassurances, my signs from Chase, my peacefulness, the physical signs, the kicks, the messages that this baby was sending me.  These things I feel constantly.  I wish I could give her all those things that I have that help me feel peace, but I can't.  I put her hand on my tummy and she patiently waited and felt the baby kick and a glow instantly appeared on her face.  I told her that when this baby was born and when she held him in her arms the first time that her heart would heal in so many ways.  I promised her that Chase would be there with us to share that moment and to help her, too, feel that it was OK to love this new little baby like we so badly want to love him, Chase that is.  I want her to feel OK with these emotions like I do, but I forget what it's like to not have any thing to feel to remind me of Chase.  Because I feel him all the time around me with this new little one.  She asked me what if this baby looks a lot different from Chase, are we going to forget him?  I told her this baby needs his own identity.  But he is most certainly, in my opinion, a gift.  A gift that Chase has helped bring us.  And for this reason, Chase is always in our hearts and our minds when we prepare for and bring this baby home.  Which I am most positive that we will.  

But these are things we talk about.  I share my feelings with her in hopes that she, too, will feel some of the same things.  Because the pain is too close to think of this pregnancy any other way.  There are lots of things I am worried about and scared of but I strongly feel that we need to help ourselves get through this waiting part.  I can't even begin to explain how much I love feeling this baby kick me.  It is purely amazing when he is going crazy in there.  With the other 4 pregnancies, I never EVER thought of it the way I do now.  I never appreciated it or loved it or cherished all those movements and "totally bizarre" kicks.  They were just a part of being pregnant.  But now I absolutely adore them.  It is the coolest thing ever and I am so lucky to be carrying this little guy with me every day 24/7.  I can't imagine when he is born and I have to share him with Patric & the kids!  That's sometimes how I feel, honestly.  Not realistic, I know, but I love carrying him right now that much.  I love him that much.  And I can't wait until he is part of us....on the outside, too.  Thank you Chase.  You are my sweet angel, my sweet baby boy.  I love you so much.

Welcome....,my baby boys....

I have great news.  I just did not ever feel the time was right to share it here.  This blog is about our life, our family.  But it has been, for so long, a place for me to grieve--to talk about Chase and what he means to us and how much we miss him.  Because that is what I needed this blog to be.  I see my friends here, hear from them here, share with them here, all of our feelings about missing our babies.  And I understand, now, how BLMs have so much trouble announcing their rainbow pregnancies.  There are so many conflicting emotions, and I have been blogging may way through them over here, if you are interested.  But it is time, now, to officially share our news....Enter....Pearson baby #5, due February 13th:

                                

I can't share this news, however, without including a picture of Chase, too.  He has to be on this post, right there with his little brother.  He is such a big part of this baby.  He is the reason this baby is here.  He has helped carry me this far through this pregnancy, no doubt.  But now there is a new little one to focus on, and that is hard to do, when you know all you really want to do is hold the one that should be here.  

I am so incredibly happy about this pregnancy.  I love this little guy already more than I ever thought possible.  With every kick, every swoosh I feel from him, I feel love.  I am normally not a peaceful, joyous pregnant person, but I have to say that I have enjoyed this pregnancy more with the perspective I have than I ever thought I would.  I have fears, of course.  I am scared out of my mind for what can happen.  But somehow, I have been at peace with all those concerns.  I have felt Chase carrying me, assuring me it's okay to be happy, not to be sad.  There are pangs of guilt, when I see toddlers his age or when I hold his clothes or things that his little brother will now wear instead of him.  But these feelings are overwhelmed by the love I feel for this little one, the joy I have, the anticipation of bringing him home and holding him.  

Saying these things, typing these words, I still painfully miss my little guy.  Even Emma said to me the other day....."Mom, I'm just not sure what I want more.  I really am excited for the baby, but I miss Chase and I don't know if I want the new baby or Chase more.  Because the new baby probably wouldn't be here if Chase was alive."  We all feel it.  The confusion.  The emotion.  The fear.   A million times I have imagined this baby in my arms, carrying him out of the hospital, taking him home.  But a part of me feels that there is a huge gap in there.  The emptiness; a void.  That something is missing in the middle of all this.  And how do you move on from that?  I used to wonder how I could move pass Chase and love a new baby.  How could a mother just move on like that?  It's not something I want to do.  And I don't feel entirely like I am moving on.  I feel like a part of my life stopped when Chase died.  It will always feel that way.  But there is not a bone in my body that won't and doesn't already love this new little baby.  And that is where Chase is helping me.  He is holding my hand & my heart this whole time, letting me know he is here with me, loving me and loving this baby, and that it is ok.  He knows how much I love him.  It is me that can't measure that, making it so hard to be okay with loving someone new now and physically giving that love to this baby instead of Chase.  But he is helping me with that and I am grateful for him.  

So this announcement isn't a typical "We're having a baby!" announcement.  It's more than that.  It's where we are with our grief, where we are with our "new normal."  And it's about Chase still being with us.  I feel in a way he is taking care of his little brother, they are somewhere in the same "place" right now.  And when the time is right, Chase will bring his brother into our world, to hold and love on.  Until then, however, I will love what I cannot hold, with every ounce of my broken heart.

A new day

I have been visiting family a lot lately and having a much needed break from life in my small town. My little sis had her second baby and I got to hold him at just 8 days old. What a blessing. I had imagined many things anticipating this event and it was nothing I thought it would be. I feared it would be emotional, heartwrenching, and painful for me, probably because of my encounter with Faith. But it wasn't. Somehow Faith prepared me for this.  I was afraid I would only be able to see this new baby and feel what wasn't there. But I didn't. I was anxious for fear of loving this baby in a way that I wasn't supposed to or that was unhealthy. It wasn't that way at all.

I had the priveledge of holding my brand new baby nephew in my arms and seeing him for who he is....a piece of my baby sister and the newest member of her precious and growing family. I got to see her grow as a mom and see her daughter change into a big sister. I got to talk to her about our pregnancies and her trials as a new mother of 2. I spent priceless time with her and her children and got to share that with my kids. I never felt the sadness that I feared I would. I thought of my sweet Chase often, but I did not see him when I held my new nephew. I felt Chase's presence and his protective shield around me, but I did not feel sorrow for myself or my family. I watched my kids hold their new baby cousin and saw their smiles and shared their joy. My longing for my baby boy is something that will never fade away for me. But it doesn't take away from the many blessings that I see before me every day. My friend Carol put it this way: "...the sadness that we carry, the weight of that stone on my back, doesn't subtract from the happiness that I have now."

The hardest part about being around family is when everyone is together...from all the families. That is when I miss my little boy most and that is the hardest thing for people to understand. This hole will never be filled.....but we live with it and enjoy each day for what it brings.

Not in the mood

We took the kids to Albuquerque this weekend to watch Walking with Dinosaurs. We went to the Children's Museum and thought we might catch the zoo, too, but the weather had other plans for us. Instead, before heading home we stopped at the mall to take care of some exchanges we needed to make and one of them was in GapKids.

I didn't need to go in BabyGap, we were strictly in the kids' side but the checkout counter is the divider between the two stores. There were so many cute things that kept catching my eye and I always wonder what I would be stealing from the budget to buy Chase from these kinds of stores. I wanted to be sad that I didn't shop in babyGap anymore because my kids are too big for it. I wanted to be sad that I didn't shop there because Reese refuses to "dress up" in jeans and anything with buttons. But I don't get that privilege. I hate that I don't shop in that store because I can't bear the site of the things I should be showing off my baby boy in. I hate that I don't have a reason to shop there because my son is gone. Standing in that store, looking at those things is torture to me. And what is worse, I did this to myself, I snatched a super soft, tiny stuffed blue elephant at the counter as the clerk was checking me out and asked her if I could buy that, too. As luck would have it, it had no price tag. Of course she couldn't look on the other tags of the same brand of animals to see that it was $5.50. She had to look at every book behind the counter to find the right "number" for it. And when she couldn't find it, she had to call her manager to look through the same books only then to go to the "back" to see if they had any more back there with the tag on it. We stood there for probably 20 minutes waiting but I had to have this elephant. I wasn't exactly sure why. I used to always buy these little stuffed animals from Gap when the kids were babies. They were just the right size for them to hold as babies and for some reason lovely to chew/suck on. Gross, I know, but this elephant reminded me of that. It reminded me of my babies that have grown up. It also reminded me of my baby that would never grow up. I had to have it and standing there waiting for the stupid clerk to find the right number was like twisting the knife that has been stuck in my heart for 11 months and a day now. Especially when she looked at Karly and asked who it was for. I guess she didn't hear her when Karly asked me if it was for Chase and if we were going to send it up to him in heaven on a balloon. And then, as the timing was impeccable, the "funeral home guy" calls to tell me the proof for the monument is in. Lovely. While I'm busy wasting time with a @*$&# clerk buying a stupid $5 toy for my son whose headstone is waiting for my approval to be carved. Tears welled up in my eyes but I couldn't leave without my baby's soft toy.

Just weeks away from Chase's birthday. I can't even explain how sad this is. That time is going so fast and that our littlest Pearson is not here to share it with us.

Dry Eyes

I had gone probably 4 or 5 days without shedding a tear and it was not because Chase was on my mind any less. And it wasn't like tears were not appropriate in the kind of week I had. But despite their being just below the surface, even welling up in my eyes, I was unable to cry...to let go and let the tears fall. It was really odd to me but I think I was dealing with things that I was simply too exhausted to cry about this week. We picked out our stone for Chase, but it was I who met with the funeral home guy (what's his job title?). He came over twice and, being a small town, he is very easy to talk to. In fact, I think in this town, in his line of work, he makes it a point to "talk" to his customers if that is something they so desire. There are times when I do think I need to talk to someone, but it's so hit or miss when I want this that it has never been worth my while to check into it. But it did help, a little bit, to talk to this man and share with him some of the difficulties I was having with my grief. It's also about "sharing my story" in this small town so that people know what happened, what happened to me and what precisely we are dealing with besides the loss of our child. But I never cried. I got cold and shivered like I always do when I talk about it, but I had no tears to share with this man.

I had some deep conversations with Emma about Chase this week. The kids go to a counselor and I talked to her about how that was going and we decided that it was time to end this. She feels much more comfortable talking to us about Chase than the counselor because the counselor doesn't know what she's going through. I understand. I feel her pain. I see her pain. I hurt because she hurts. But I shed no tears.

Patric has been working extremely hard and been away from us alot for the last week. All I want is to be alone with him. I want to be able to talk without distraction and since I stay home and our business is out of the home in his opinion, we have all the time in the world any couple would want together. But he is my everything. Besides the kids, who are my best buddies in the world, he is who I confide in, socialize with, share ideas with, dream with, grieve with and love with. And when we are not on the same page, things just don't feel right. I raise all these questions in my head and my imagination runs wild. Out of hand, as he would say. I had just ensured "the funeral home guy" that we were cemented to each other...stronger than we ever have been together. And then we have an argument and suddenly I don't know what page he is on, what chapter he is in or if he's even reading the same book. Fortunately, though, we are cemented. We are united. And we can talk (eventually). And then just like that, we're back on the same page again. We're on the same team. The one that has had some rough games, but the one that wins. Somehow. Because we have what it takes. And for that I am thankful. I need him to get through this. I need him to keep living this life we live with all the pain and sadness and the love and happiness, that is still to be had. I have changed, just as he has, and I no longer have the outlets I used to have to share my pain. It only makes sense that when you change, you have to start over with everything else, too. The five of us are different. And only we know who we are now. My adult relationships have changed....I have begun starting over that aspect of my life, as well. What I seek from adults is far less than what I used to. I have started new relationships, to replace the old. Or just left emptiness where there used to be something I needed. What I need is in front of me, in my reach. We lean on each other and we get through those hard days. And then we cry together, when the tears start falling again.

Still here

I miss him so badly. I look at his pictures and I feel him like I am still losing him--in a different way. I look at the pictures and I have them memorized. But as time passes, I have to try harder to see those moments in action....moving, not just still shots in my mind, but his life with us. Those moments. The tragedy. In moving, real life action. Because if I don't try to recall those things, it feels like these are just pictures. Pictures of something that happened...but no memory. I have several different snapshots of him that don't even look like the same baby. I have my favorite photo...the perfect gerber baby face, plus a few tubes and medical leads. But I also have photos of him that aren't so hot. And as my jaded memory slips further away, and I realize what really happened....I see it in these pictures. The magnitude of what happened, how he was born and how lifeless he must have looked in the isolette while the doctor and nurses were working and him. And all that can change my view of what all happened. Maybe we were unrealistically hopeful, despite those words from the doctor that echoed in my brain, "babies are remarkably resilient and often times surprise us...." And he most certainly was as healthy as an ox. That's the one thing I do know.

Almost as accurate as my internal clock is this one particular wave of grief that happens about every 30 days. Hormones, maybe, psychological, maybe. But it's that huge cloud of darkness that just looms over me and I can almost feel the weight of it, physically. So that's where I'm at. Hurting. Like it was yesterday. And no, I don't think it gets easier. I think you learn how to deal with it, yes. But the pain doesn't lessen. That's why there are graves at the cemetery with fresh flowers every week for a baby that died 50 years ago. The focus of the pain shifts from different aspects of the situations that occurred. I may be consumed with a particular moment of his life, before he was born or after, what is still to come, but it all hurts the same. None of it is ever going to change. The pain is never going to go away. I am never going to be ignorant of this feeling or free from it. And that is why learning to live this way, learning to fight the battles I must fight this way, learning to go after my goals and dreams with this in my heart is making me a much stronger person. It's like fighting a battle with one arm and winning and that's what I'm going to continue to do. That's the mom Chase would be proud of.

Dark Times

Oh my....I'm back to my blog for therapy, once again. Journalling in this space has been sometimes the only thing that relieves my mind, gives me comfort. Once I purge onto this screen, I can rest my thoughts or shift to something else. I can release the burdens of what is going on in my head--and in my heart. My last post was a huge vent for me. And I received some of the most supportive, helpful comments and emails from this community. The words I read after I posted affected me in ways that I wonder if you have any idea what you did for me. But then I know that I have read your blogs and left comments, trying to help you along...because that's what we do. And I know you do know that you have touched me. Because you know. You know this awful road I am on. And you know all the obstacles, the diversions, the temptations, the hills and the valleys. So thank you. Thank you for being there and helping me through that moment and getting me past it. I took your advice and I held back. FB has not even been a temptation anymore. So, whew! It feels good to have it behind me.

I have really been in a dark place. Last week was really, really hard. Thankfully this week has been better. What is my "dark place?" Deep, deep sadness. Regrets. Wondering what ifs. Wishing... Missing.... Longing.... Hurting.... And withdrawing. I have really pulled myself in since that last post. I have not reached out to anyone. I have not had any contact with anyone, really, but my family. I know everyone else has moved on. I realized that my problems are not their problems. I wanted them to be and I wanted that kind of support....like it was their problem. But it's not. And I can't expect...or ask that of anyone. Life does go on--for them. Unless you have suffered this loss, there is no way of knowing. I would not want to know...I really wouldn't. I wish I didn't.

But life goes on for them, while mine is spiralling. Still, after nearly 10 months, I think about what happened every day. Several times a day. Every night, still, I go to sleep thinking about the day I had Chase. I think about the doctor. A lot. I wish I could have gotten inside his head. And what's worse, I wish I still could. It bothers me. I wish I could move past it, but I can't. It surrounds me. Daily I am faced with him, or some small degree of separation from him. In a small town I can't remove myself from his presence. And I can't face him. I feel like I need to meet him head on and talk to him. But I can't. He won't. It will never happen. No closure, no answers, no story. And for that I am labeled. By whom, I guess, is irrelevent. Because as I have said, I've withdrawn. That's the only way to protect my physical, emotional and mental well-being. I get the peace I seek from my family. I did have lunch with a friend this week and I really enjoyed it. She came to me, of course, and I am thankful for that. But what she doesn't know is how badly and why I needed that contact. I'm human. I am woman, for pete's sake. So as much as I would like to shut everyone out, I can't. I don't need much, but I do need a little. But the vast majority I am surrounded by can't provide that. She did, though, and I needed it.

But I don't look, act, or even feel, like the recluse I have described. I can tell that I have withdrawn, but I don't feel like a standout. I have the facade that we all know so well going on. I smile and converse and move on. But the tears are right there under the surface. A lot of phone calls this week about stuff we still need to take care of...and I talk, even laugh because it's the only way I know to get this thing done when you know the funeral home director personally, but wonder if they know that underneath that normal-sounding, jovial voice is an ocean of tears. Just waiting to hang up the phone so I can let them go.

So there is still a lot of pain. We talk of Chase daily with the kids. He even has a Mii so Reese can blay baseball with him on the Wii, morbid maybe to some but we love it. But there is not a moment that goes by that I don't think of him either being here with us, his things I still have in the house, the formula in the cupboard, the hospital I drive by all the time and the tragic events that took place there. And it has sent me in this very dark direction on my path. My heart litterally feels heavy sometimes with the sadness that I bear. I miss him so badly. He is growing up fast and he's not even here. I can't believe he'd be almost 10 months already. He was such a sweet, sweet boy and we would have been such a happy family. I remember being so unsure if we wanted to have another baby or not and then we got pregnant with Chase and were so excited to add on and complete us. Now I know that having a baby would be truly a blessing but I will never, never feel we are complete. I feel like my hands are tied. I can't fix it this time. And that is what hurts. It always will. I'm not sure what our family will be...but I know what it won't have. Because we will always miss him. He will always be a part of us, but never here.

Onward I push. With my family. We are strong, we are together, and we will live our lives with pride, joy and love. We pull each other along when one of us needs a little help. I am so thankful for that. They are who bring me out of the darkness that I seem to fall into. Chase, too. I cry for him, but I also smile about him. I love you, little man. While you are with us and we include you in everything we do, I still miss you every moment of my day.

Best Christmas Present Ever!

Wow--I wanted to blog about this because I have been waiting so long for this to happen. And when it would, I wanted it written down. Unfortunately, like most dreams, I don't have much to write about because I don't remember much of it....except what was most important.

Chase came to me last night. I remember having the dream and then waking up right afterwards and thinking what had just happened. I had such an incredibly warm feeling about the dream and knew it was Chase. I had dreamt about him before, but only his casket or his corpse---nothing that gave me warmth and happiness. But last night, I saw him. Like I said, I don't remember much about the dream but I remember holding him above my head looking up at him and he was just smiling away. His smile was so intriging to me in the dream, I don't know why. How sweet it was, though. I know there was more to the dream because when I woke up afterwards, I remember thinking about it and that it finally came. But then I went back to sleep and didn't think about it again until this morning when I was at the coffee shop with Karly.

We saw a baby come in and I told Karly that the baby was probably Chase's age--which was confirmed after I asked the dad. The baby was born just a couple weeks after Chase actually. So we talked about the baby and Karly asked me if that mom loved that baby as much as she should. Interesting question from a 7-year-old I thought. I asked her why and she said because the baby was crying in the car seat and the mom didn't take him out. I told her I thought the mom looked like a very good mom and sometimes babies cry but that is part of teaching them about patience--even when they are little babies. I laughed and told her that I don't think Chase would have cried very much because while I would have been too busy to pick him up for a moment, either she or Emma would have stepped in and picked him up until I could tend to his needs. I smiled at that thought but Karly cried. I held her hand and she told me how bad she wanted 2 things, well 3 things, she said. "I want to be able to fly (1), and (2) Chase to come back alive and (3), if Chase can't come back alive, I want another baby.

Ditto. All of that. Ditto for me, too, Karly Jo.

Thank you for the visit, sweet boy. You snuck in on me because I thought it would be a long time before I would see you. I love you so much, baby boy. I love you so so much.

October Secret Garden Meeting

This meeting we would like to talk about where you are. Where are you at in your grief. Has it been years or just weeks since you lost your baby. How are you feeling. How do you hope you will feel in the future. Have you found any peace at all?

It has been 6 1/2 months since we lost Chase. I still have a lot of the same feelings, most all of them, that I did a week after he died. I am still angry, lost, confused, bitter (maybe not as much now), sad, empty, broken, just sick. If I let myself, I could go right back to the moment it happened, or the funeral, or the burial, and have all those wicked, horirble feelings just like I was there again. I don't let myself, though. There are times that I just don't let myself think of because it is so awful. I guess because there are moments that I can think of to cover those up. Like the first moment I saw him and how I instantly (INSTANTLY) bonded with him. Or touching him in the NICU and spending that precious time with him. Or when the kids came in to see him and they were all so, so, so strong. Or when we all talk about him and wonder what he is doing now, or what or who he looks like, or what his likes and dislikes are. My thoughts are my choice, I figure. I can think about whatever I want to think about and I can turn them into good or bad (sad) thoughts. I am really trying to make the best of it.

I am doing well. Not great. Not terrible. Things could be better (the obvious), but they never will be. We still have our dreams. They are altered a little tiny bit, but we still have them. We are trying to decide what our family is going to be or become. We are forever learning how to live without a very important part of our family. I don't know if you ever figure that out. With the holidays approaching, I have thought a lot about our traditions...what the were, what they are going to be. The fact is that there is sadness, everywhere we go, everything we do surrounded by utter, complete, happiness. My family is the most awesome thing in the world. i am so lucky to be a part of it. They are wonderful. I love them and they love me. More than anything. It's so complicated to have so much joy in life yet to have sadness present all the time. I miss Chase...as an infant....and now as a 6-month-old. I miss him and the things he would be doing. All his firsts. But I also love what I have. I am so lucky to have what I have. So lucky. And thank you, Chase, if you had anything to do with that. I don't want to think that you did, but I also know that you did and love you for it. I want to think like Carly....Are you really gone? Or is it that we just can't see you?