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. 

An ugly post....for BLMs only

I hate to follow that post of such positivity with this one....but my blog has come to my aid countless times providing me with comfort and support from the only people in the world who truly can understand me and empathize with  me for being the social outkast because my baby died: other BLMs.  And so I share this....

I have not vented nor had the need to vent, about lost and broken friendships for several months.  Those doors are closed, or so I thought, and I am focused on what matters in my life: my family.  Not friendships that appear smooth on the surface while causing me pain underneath.  I no longer have room in this heart  of mine that has been slowly pieced back together, though one piece will forever be missing.  My circle has definitely shrunk.  And my family is really my center point and where I get all the love, nourishment, companionship, and entertainment from.  I just wish what was in my head was the same as what is in my heart.

I don't know if I have written about the doctor and his family leaving town but they did this summer and it gave me a small peace of mind knowing I don't have to worry about turning the corner and running into them or seeing them on the road, etc.  My guard was lifted a tiny bit.  And I probably have written about losing friendships because the doctor's wife is still friends with those in our old circle, while we are not.  I had "friends" tell me that we need to remember that this tragedy happened to TWO families in this town, theirs and ours.  Though it was our son who died while theirs get kisses and hugs from them every day.  As if it is important enough to mention, I was once very close friends with his wife, but our friendship fell apart about a year before I became pregnant with Chase.  I have never been able to decide if this severed friendship led to the demise of my patient/doctor relationship during my prenatal care or not.  There was nothing offered or received from her after the birth or death of Chase so all of it is neither here nor there in my mind.  The problem I had was the support my friends were offering her rather than me.  Why was it so important to them to remind me that she was not in the delivery room or that horrible operating room where her husband cut into me while I was screaming my lungs out and hitting him.....hours, hours, after he should have done something to save Chase, but was just too arrogant to admit that he might need to be concerned about the care he had given up to that point.  

This has surfaced once again because though the family has relocated, she apparently, is back in town...for a party.  A party with my former friends, whom I really wonder why I ever called them my friends or me theirs.  This is one of those "clicky" desperate housewife type parties that the invite list changes every year--depending on the party thrower.  I have never made the cut anyway, which is funny I know (pie in my face), unlucky me--whatever.  But this year, they went out of their way to invite her again.....so she could make a special flight back into town just for it.  Makes it sound like a pretty special party, huh?  I thought so, too.   These are the same friends who threw the doctor and his family a going away party this summer in a town three hours away bidding farewell to them with hugs and kisses and nice gifts.  Wow--that kind of support for the man who did all this to me?  Do they know that....or have they just forgotten?  From the people who were supposed to be my friends?  They never offered me that kind of support.  Unless you call coming into my home the second Chase died to break down my crib and remove all my baby belongings so I wouldn't have any reminders of him when I walked in the door.  Really?   LIke I was going to leave Albuquerque and forget about my dead son if the crib and his clothes were not in my room anymore?  At the time I tried to look into this with the best of intentions and understand these things as best I could.  But wow, 1 yr 7mo2wk and 2 days into this grief cycle and it sounds insanely absurd to me now.  If they would have truly known me and been my real friends, they would have known that that baby furniture had been in my bedroom far longer than it had not over the prior 5 years and removing it from my room under normal circumstances would have not even felt right to me.  It was definitely not going to be something to send me over the edge coming home from the hospital without my baby in my arms.  Quite the contrary, in all actuality, but again, how would they know that.  

My anger comes out again....not from my heart, but from my head.  A conflict so very difficult to mend....and will forever keep me out of balance.  But my heart is in the right place.  It is my head that still seeks confrontation and closure, which I will never get.  Not the closure I want.  When I ask what I could have possibly done to these people to make them so nonchalantly continue including this family in their lives and support them, someone said to me, "they just don't know what to say to you probably."  Not.  They feel guilty for supporting that family and not supporting ours.....despite over 30 years of knowing our family.  I'm only venting here because it is the therapy I need.  I don't seek their friendship or their comfort or their companionship.  I am a different person.  One they will never understand and will never know and I don't expect or desire that to change.  I am getting this anger and frustration off my chest (out of my head) so I can once again lay it to rest without being judged.....and just hope it doesn't ever surface again.  Because rest assured you'll hear about it here if it does.  *sigh*

Always like this

It's never a long period of time that passes when I don't read a post on one of my babyloss mom's blogs about a milestone that was reached. A year since the birth, the death, the due date....and I look at my calendar and see 1 year, 4 months 3 weeks and 2 days since Chase went to heaven. I can't believe it has been that long. A year ago I never thought of this day. I was trudging through each day as the sun rose, but I certainly did not have on my mind what my life would be like when Chase had been gone for a year and more. I didn't want to think of that time. I remember feeling like I was drowning because I wanted time to stop and because with each passing day, I felt like he was slipping further and further away from me.

This is the worst feeling, speaking from my experience, as someone who has lost a baby. When there are only so many memories to hold on to, and even fewer sweet, precious moments type of memories, to hold on to the legacy of your little one. There is an immense longing to see my little boy as a toddler. I wonder who he would look like, probably just like his big brother, but I will never know for sure. When I see babies that I suppose are near Chase's age, I always try to guess. First how old they are, then what my baby must look and act like.

I have not had the dreams I thought I would have had by now. I may have dreamt about Chase, though, and not remembered it. I had a dream a few nights ago....one that is fading because it was so.....real.....so...weird.....and so scary once I woke up. I can't remember much of it now but I remember having a baby, that I think was Chase, because it was Chase's age, but I don't remember the face. This baby was in a crib or bassinett or casket, or something, laying there, lifeless. There was another baby tinier, laying in another bed, too, lifeless. I'm sure the older one was Chase, because I had "kept" him. Somehow. Since he died. And eventually, he gasped and started breathing. And I just picked him up and held him and cried. And cried and cried. That's all I remember about my dream. I think the little baby took a breath, too, in my dream. They both "came to life". Right before my eyes. It was a very disturbing dream. I long so dearly to hold my sweet Chase, to feel him moving and hear him and touch him. And I got him back in this dream. I didn't get to "see" him really, I don't remember a face or any details...other than him coming to life finally.....after laying there this whole time....this past year plus. And I don't remember much about the other baby, either. Just that he, too, had started breathing.

And as I checkup on my BLM friends and read their stories, I realize that we are moving on, our lives continue. But then again, we are stuck. In a time when we try to remember our babies. A place where we forever will be.....until we are with them again some day.

I miss Chase as much today as I did the day he left us. I feel differently, my struggles are different, but I still ache for him. I look at his picture every day and though some times I just see the picture, there are other times when I take myself back to that very point in time....trying so hard to remember more than what is in the photograph. Wishing, still, I had more. Because as these days pass, I do feel further away from him. The pain not so sharp, but dull and everlasting. And maybe, maybe some day soon, I'll get a visit from him in a dream I can hold onto.

Moving On

That post title does not mean I am moving on after Chase. I am stuck in time with him. That one thing is motionless, while everything else around it keeps moving, he is frozen in time and I miss him every day with every bone in my body. I should be a whole year into his life soon...watching him learn to walk and listening to his first words and watching his big sisters and big brother entertain him and care for him. I never stop thinking about those things. And then I look at his picture and I am taken back. To those 4 days of excitement, fear, hope, sadness and confusion and it feels as though time has stood still.

I don't see this changing, though eventually, I'm told, it will. But what has moved on is life as we know it. I have moved on with life. I laugh with my children, with my husband. I learn things about myself. I love like there is no tomorrow. I feel things ever so acutely. I empathize with people, things, situations. I am sometimes amazed at how I am able to move past things that, before Chase died, I would have dwelled on, fretted about, stewed over....for weeks. I don't do that anymore. My adult relationships have changed. That's because my needs have changed. Things that I say, feel or do are not justified always. I can't explain "why" when it comes to my feelings. When they get hurt, I make sure it won't happen again. And if that means moving on and not looking back, then that is what I do. I protect myself much better than I ever did before. Or maybe I have a little extra help from up above, I don't know. I don't need anyone to understand me. There is no reason for that because there is no way they ever will. And as a result, I have no desire to explain myself. I go on because I have to. This, I have learned.

I miss my sweet boy. Every moment of every day, I miss him.

Can't Let Go....the ugly side of grief

During a very cathartic, blood vessel-popping workout, I listened to this song...several times. I'm dripping in sweat and tears & high on endorphins and am writing this down because I've had this in my head for 10 months now and never said it. There is so much of this song that says it for me. I know what this song was written for but when I listen to the words, so many of them are mine. Because I'm not ready. I can't let go of the issues I have with him for letting my delivery happen the way it did.

I’m through with doubt
There’s nothing left for me to figure out
I’ve paid a price
And I’ll keep paying

I'm so mad and I can't let this go. Be it in a court of law or in the back alley, I need the closure that I don't know if I will ever get. I need to ask him why he did what he did and didn't do what he didn't do. I need to know what he was thinking and why he told me not to tell anyone what he did. I can't let this go. I see his wife and though I have conversations played out in my head with her, I can't let that go, either. She didn't do this, no, but maybe she shares his secret. Maybe he has been honest with her. Maybe he has told her something that I need to know.(Edited to add:) But no one understands this....why I can't treat her like nothing happened...why seeing her makes me feel the way it does...why I am so hurt by the sight, mention, or someone's interaction with her...why I have a problem with her at all. And to tell you the truth, I don't know why, either...but have him be the cause of your son's death and then tell me how you feel about it. Then try to justify your feelings to everyone else.

I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round

I would trade Tim's last breath for one more day, hour, minute or second with my son and wouldn't think twice. But that's only because this didn't have to happen. There are accidents that happen and there are accidents that don't need to happen. I tell my kids this all the time.

He could have actually considered that something might have need to be checked out....all that blood for 13+ hours. He could have actually considered that he might have made a mistake and caused this bleed. He could have actually considered the fact that I had concerns....more than just a worried pregnant mom. But he didn't. He didn't take any precautions. He assumed he was right. And he assumed everything was fine. And he didn't check into any of the things I so desperately needed him to and asked him to. He ignored my feelings.....as I had come accustomed to by this time. His conceit is known by all, but only we suffer because of it.

It’s a sad sad story when a mother will teach her

Daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger

My emotions towards this man have transcended to my daughters. Without directly telling them, they know clearly how we feel about Dr. Harkins, despite our very close friendship once upon a time. He did not come to Chase's funeral, nor did his wife. As I lay on his operating table, he told me to tell him what I felt. And I screamed from the moment his knife touched me until I slipped into la-la land; his nurse laying her body on my chest to hold me down. The fear that raced through my veins...the fear that I was going to die....that I would leave my 3 lovely angels motherless....is forever seared in my memory. He came into my hospital room sobbing after I came out of recovery. He mumbled, "I'm so sorry" and that's it. I don't know what he was sorry about. I don't know what he was thinking or what he felt. I was in shock. I was still scared about my own life. I had no idea what was in store for my newborn son. And I never got the chance that I so badly want, to ask him about these things. To question him. To close this chapter and move on. And I doubt I ever will. It's not right. Not right in anyone's eyes....

Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting

Edited: Gray area above.

Another wave

This is my second post today....and it amazes me the range of motions in any given day. How I can go from being elated that I did a silly yoga pose, to cleaning the kids' rooms, to tidying up the baby dresser and crib, to sitting on my bed in shock and a wave of tears that I still can't believe my baby boy is gone--it's unreal. But then it's real.

I think I am in denial. I really do. When the magnitude of what has happened hits me, it is overwhelming. I can't believe one of our kids is gone. I don't want to believe it. I never got to bring him home, never got to dress him in his clothes, never got to....but yet I knew him so well. I remember how excited each of us was to meet him. I remember how blessed I was to be the one carrying him, growing him inside me, taking him with me wherever I go. To think that he is gone forever....I can't. I think I am still waiting for him to come home. I never had to clean out any of the baby stuff from the house. Being the fourth child, I had it down to the bare necessities what I needed set up. And it's all still there. I have not taken down teh crib, nor the dressing table and hutch. Several months ago I took the stroller and infant seat back out to the storage shed in the back yard, but it wasn't taht hard. I was just stowing it for later....when....what?

I went through the dressing table drawers this morning as I often do and there is all the baby shampoo, lotion, oil, some paci's, some nipples, burp cloths, nursing pads, tons of diapers and wipes...and I wondered how long some of that would "keep". Because in my mind, I'm going to use it. One day. I'm not sure when. Either when Chase comes home or we have another baby. But I'm not sure what I am hoping for more. And I have never thought about giving away any of it. I donated some opened packages of diapers that were handed down to me (disposables) to the church, but none of the new, unopened packages. I have not even considered it. And as I looked at them and wondered their longevity, I know that I still cannot even think about giving them to anyone. I suppose I could give it to my little sister--she's expecting. And that's about as removed as I can let Chase's stuff be. But I'm not even ready for that. And I don't see it anytime in the near future.

So I had that wave of grief hit me again. Sadness. Tears. The feeling of being punched in the gut. And I just miss him. I miss him. So. Much. I am sick, literally nauseous, that he is gone. I can't believe my baby, a human being, is missing from our family. That thought just shakes me to the very core. It's too much to handle some days. I still don't know how to sometimes.

And then one of my little yoga partners walks in. He gives me a hug and says, "Is it about Chase?" And I say, "yeah". And he gives me his signature 3 kisses....one for me, one for him and one for Chasey. So, yes, I guess I can handle it. With a little help. And some much needed sugar from my boys.

The Struggle, Part II of ???

I can't believe Christmas is over. Well, the holiday is not over for us, but I just can't believe that this is the end of December. The year seemed to fly which is so weird because so often I don't know if I can make it through the day, or the minute or the second. The pain I felt going to bed on Christmas eve and then on Christmas morning was excruciating. As I lay in bed that night trying to fall asleep, I missed our baby boy so much. I had that dull ache, a nauseating feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach that was emotional and physical all at once. Just sick that he is not here with us. At eight months old, and with 3 older siblings, he would have so much fun watching and learning what to do on this special holiday. We would have had so much fun watching and learning what he could do. I cried myself to sleep eventually that night and woke up in a hurry as the other three yelled at us from their rooms. I rushed around to get the final preparations complete and then watched as they tore open gifts, handed out gifts and played with their new toys. Then I sat down by Chase's tree and read the kids' letters to him, read Karly's present she made for him and just cried. I was so confused. I looked at the three kids and Patric and thought about how happy I was to have them and be a part of their lives and how much joy they give me every day. But then I looked down in my lap at his pictures and could not stop crying because our little boy was not here and he really should be. Of course, it was that "inside", quiet-as-you-can-cry, but the tears were unstoppable. Karly gave me a hug and a smile and I smiled back at her and loved her right back. And I wiped my tears and put on my happy face, but kept crying on the inside.

I was told our first Christmas without him would be the hardest. But I had no idea. I did not expect the huge wave that would hit me. And I didn't allow myself to think that Patric would be having an equally painful time, in his own way, and not the same as mine. The question I don't have the answer to is where do you meet when you no longer grieve in the same way as your spouse, but you are both still in so much pain? After finally realizing this, I don't know how to fix it. How do I comfort him on his journey when I am on the same journey but in a different vehicle? I can't quite reach him the same way as when we were both riding side by side and he can no longer do the same for me, either. I know we are there for each other, but our needs are different now. I don't know how to solve this one, but I think that understanding that this is happening is a start. I can't explain this very well, but I'm just trying to say that I love my husband more than anything. And I know that he is going through the worst tragedy that anyone ever has to go through. There are times that I may be able to comfort him and there are times that I may not know what to do. The compounding factor of this is that I, too, am going through the exact same worst tragedy ever, but dealing/thinking/hurting differently because I am me and he is him. I am so sorry, Patric, for being so caught up in my sorrow and guilt and sadness, that I have somehow looked past yours. I should be the rock for you that you are for me. You know me, and you love me for who I am and I am the luckiest girl in the world for that. Just know that you mean the world to me and I am trying. Trying to cope, trying to live, trying to love all my kids with all my heart the best that I know how. And, with every breath, I love you.

***

Aching Arms

I love my kids. I am so blessed to have them. They are wonderful rays of sunshine in my days of some pretty major downpours. But my arms have been aching. Aching to be holding the plump, bouncy, beautiful baby that I should be holding.

We had a wonderful day Saturday helping Pop with a rock project of his. We filled the truck with rocks, then unloaded them, then relaxed on the deck in the most comfortable chairs, in the most beautiful of weather, entertaining each other with conversation and toys. But something was missing. A grandmother should be holding her youngest grandchild. This would be her excuse for not getting her chores done--she had a baby that needed to be held....in her arms. Something she was so anxiously looking forward to. It's hard to appreciate such blissful relaxation when your arms are aching, physically, from what is not in them.

We went to church this morning and my arms ached then, too. Again, I am so thankful for what I do have. The kids sitting there with me, behaving (by my standards, anyway). But Chase should be in my arms. His brother should be making him smile. My life should be perfect.

Truth is, there are times that I can not imagine what my life would be without this tragedy. I so wish this wouldn't have happened to us, but this feeling, this knowledge of what such enormous grief is, this burden that we carry....I can't imagine living my life not knowing it, now. Again, I so, so, so wish I was. I would give anything to not know this grief. But I have it and I live my life with it every day. I appreciate a beautiful day because of what is not there. I love my family more because of what is missing. I cherish those important relationships more because of one that we will never have. And my arms ache, along with my heart because I am missing Chase.