A ladybug, a shower, a shooting star and my little rainbow butterfly

I can't believe Thanksgiving is already over.  We had a wonderful holiday with family but it went too fast.  I have read on blogs of other BLMs about the significance of things that never used to be significant.  Our family sees the simplest things from a whole new point of view since saying goodbye to Chase.  When we packed up the vehicle and were saying our farewells to the family, a peculiar thing happened; though I doubt it would have been as peculiar had Chase been in my arms.  When I opened the car door for the kids,  immediately I saw a ladybug on the seat.  I really wish I would have taken a picture of it because I had never seen a ladybug so big and with so many spots on it.  Never like this.  It almost seemed to have character as I picked it up and showed the kids, whom were all intrigued by the little bug.  Of course they referred to it as Chase right away and wanted to bring it with us.  I, too, wanted to think of it as Chase.  But the rational side of me says it's a bug, we don't need to bring it in the car.  However, when I picked "him" up, he snuggled right in under my watch and I couldn't get to him without removing my watch and picking him out of the buckle.  It was a little odd and I really did think of this ladybug as either Chase or a gift from Chase or some sort of connection.  I felt this way because I felt the freedom to think and feel freely about this little beauty--as a result of my perspective on the universe since Chase passed.  I was comforted in a way while listening to the kids play in the backseat, talking to Chase (the ladybug, who was in the console between them) and including them in their imaginitive play.  Thinking....wishing it was all real.

***

Our holiday tripped was capped off by a surprise baby shower that Emma had planned and, with the help of her aunts, threw for me the night before we left.  I had suspected Emma was trying to plan something a few weeks ago and emailed my sisters telling them I just didn't want a baby shower this time and wasn't ready to buy or receive a bunch of baby gear and stuff for this baby yet.  I want to celebrate Chase again this year and didn't want to feel like I was overlooking him by prematurely celebrating the next baby, when, as we know it, is not guaranteed. Right?  However twisted it is, that was my feeling about a shower but I told them (my sisters) that I also didn't want to take anything away from big sister Emma who might want to be a part of or organize something like a baby shower.  If anyone could police this plan, I could trust my sisters to do it gracefully and tactfully, satisfying and fulfilling both hers and my wishes.  

It was beautiful.  It was sweet.  It was fun.  It was special.  It was intimate--just my sisters and their kids/husbands.  It was absolutely perfect.  Emma had everything planned from the games we played (the kids had a blast!), to the decorations (a sign made that said "Chase has brought us a gift.  A baby boy!"), to the design on the cake (an angel in the clouds and a baby with a stork) and everything in between.  And Aunt Lyn & Aunt Meg made it happen!  They told me that Emma had contacted them about this shower the day that we told the kids we were pregnant--so that was at least 4 months ago!  She had even written me a poem and framed it.  You can read it here.  The memories we made that night were priceless for all of us. I am so grateful to have sisters that will go to those measures to make my family happy and a daughter with such a big heart.

***

I was talking to Reese the other day about Christmas gifts and asked him teasingly what he was going to get me this year.  He said he wanted to give me a picture of Chase but that he was sad that we had all we were going to get for pictures of him and we couldn't get a new one.  But then his smile perked right up and he said, "I know, Mom.  I will take a picture of something beautiful and put it with glass and wrap it for you. Because, you know, everything that is beautiful is Chase."  

***

I had an appointment yesterday and went by myself.  The baby is doing fine--measuring 3.7 lbs and nearly 15 inches already (in the 71st %-ile).  That is reassuring and all but unfortunately I am a product of "there are no guarantees in life" so when I see him on the screen, I see him for what he is today.  What this little angel looks like today that is kicking me all the time and moving all about.  And I love that.  I cherish it and could watch him on the screen all day long.  It is such a gift growing this little person inside me and I couldn't be more privileged to be in this position.  But I can't help but think every time we get these BPPs with "all the points" that Chase was just like that.  He got all those points on each BPP, too.  Yet he is not here with us and it is still no different than missing a limb or other part of my body.  Anger ensues and I thank my lucky stars that I have the best doctors and best facilities I know to take me through this pregnancy but hate myself for not taking those measures with Chase's pregnancy.   Those thoughts don't overtake me, but they linger, and they will never go away.  I walk out of the room with a smile on my face and joy in my heart, holding my precious little one tucked away in my belly....yet broken on the inside missing a piece of my ever growing heart.  

On the way home from this appointment, I received a gift.  I was in the desert part of my drive in  pitch black night skies; nothing but the stars looking down on me.  I looked up out of the side window just in time to see the brightest shooting star I have ever seen.  Ever!   It was amazing.  And it was a long one!  The longest one I had ever seen.  Just like the ladybug, I felt comfort in this star because it had to be a sign from Chase, there was no other way I would ever look at it.  And again, as crazy as it sounds, this was my gift from him--in my eyes.  But I have the privilege of seeing it this way, because of this universe that I now live in.  So amazingly different from where I used to be.

Judging Grief

What I am about to say is not intended to touch everyone. It is not going to be understood by most. And by all means, I am not trying to change or fix anyone. I am purely and genuinely going to vent.

I don't understand the way people react to someone's grief. I have read about, been told it would happen and seen people react to me in very peculiar ways. Specifically, people have left my side and no longer fill the role of a friend.

I know someone who's son, years ago, was killed just days before his college graduation. My heart went out to her. She was not a close friend, but a friend indeed and I didn't know what to do for her. She was surrounded by so many who loved her and had so much support, or so it looked from the outside. I felt so bad for her and wanted badly to reach out to her. I had been told that a couple months after a tragedy is when people generally find themselves alone as their family goes back home and everyone goes on with their lives. So I wrote in my day planner on the day 2 months from her tragedy to send her a card and I did so. I saw her a few months later and asked her how she was doing and was surprised how much she shared with me. At the time, I did not know how to handle her grief. Now I do. Now I know and understand how much she wanted to talk about her son to me, a distant friend. But one thing I didn't do, was judge her.

Before Chase died, I could have never imagined the pain she went through and how it would guide her every day. How that pain would override every thought, every emotion, every feeling, every thing she did in her life. So I never judged her actions, her choices, her weight loss, her weight gain, her change in appearance, her behavior. After the loss she had endured, any of those things were destined to be affected or change and change again and my heart continued to ache for her. This was the outsider's point of view of grief that I had.

Now, having lost my own child, and having endured the pain of this and learning to live with it every day of my life, I don't understand why I am judged. "Chase died and then she just quit talking to me." In my head, I can just hear these comments. "She got mad at me because I'm still friends with her doctor's friend's sister's husband's cousin's neighbor's uncle. How insane is that? Like they had anything to do with it."

I can't explain my feelings. I can't tell you why I feel the way I do or why I do the things I do or why I say some of the things I say. I'm hurting. Inside. Always. And the anger side of grief will sometimes guide me to do things that I could not ever expect you to understand. Unless your child had died, too. Think of it this way, and then try to justify the way you feel. Try to explain it to someone why you can't stand to be around someone who is 6 degrees of separation away from the person who is responsible for your son's death. Sounds crazy, I know.

The "funeral home guy" told me that his very close friends lost a teenage son and because of the whole funeral and burial thing, his grieving friends quit talking to he and his wife. He acknowledged that they probably equated the death of their son to them but he didn't know why they quit talking to them--they had been such close friends. My reaction to that was, "Don't judge them". No, you didn't cause the death of their son, but you remind them so vividly of those particular moments following their tragedy that I don't blame them. I don't know why we act this way, but I completely understand. It's unfortunate and, sadly, I can totally relate. I, personally, wanted to jump in a hole--to hide from everyone, everything. All the while feeling like I was living in a glass house. Maybe it was my own insecurities, my shattered faith, my pain, but I didn't want to see anyone I knew....except for my closest friends.

To date, however, nearly all of those closest friends are gone. Most have left my side. Some made choices. Choices I could not accept. For reasons I cannot explain. So I remain misunderstood, misjudged. As if it matters. Because I am much better off than I was, all things considered. There are new friends in place. Some closer old friends. And I am starting over, the new me. I'm not going to say improved, but I will call myself real. I see things with people so much more clearly than I ever had. My family, though the most important thing in my life before Chase died, is the center of my universe. And I love them with every breath I take.

Times Like These

This has been an extremely hard year in the Pearson household and to say we have been untouched by the economy would be grossly false. Like many, the price of simple things as groceries has come to add up to a lot. Thankfully we have a superstore that makes some of those prices competitive but I can't believe sometimes how my mom is coming out in me. I remember growing up and saving everything. I would like to say that my packrat characteristics stemmed from this but I see my own daughter turning into a packrat and I know I haven't influenced this--if it's not put away, and it looks like trash, it goes in the trash! I'm talking about things like the ever growing tin foil ball (of RECYCLED tinfoil), making caseroles so the chicken goes further, putting unfinished glasses of milk in the fridge to be drank or used for cereal the next morning, pooring half empty glasses of kool-aid back in the pitcher, limiting the kids' toilet paper usage (or painfully telling my little boy that no, he does NOT have to use TP when he pees), shifting your schedule to make only 1 short trip to wherever, rather than going back and forth twice, filling your shampoo, Dawn or handsoap bottle with water to make sure you get ALL the soap out! This is all the kind of "moderation" I grew up with, and thus, was normal for me. Somewhere along the line, though, I lost a lot of my "efficiency". I stopped looking at prices in teh grocery store. I used 3 kleenexes when I only needed 1. I bought paper towels instead of kitchen towels, the list goes on.
These are priveledges to some, carelessness to others and completely foreign to even a few I'm sure, but growing up with 3 sisters in a midwest town with no stoplights, no curbs and 1 grocery store the size of my house, it was how we lived. As an adult, now, with both of us working from home, we are learning to adapt. I feel, sometimes, as though I'm going back to some ways way back when (I DON'T save my tinfoil, though!). I think of how my parents coped back then. Were they as stressed out as I am? Of course they were, but only now am I appreciating what it was exactly they were going through. Do I worry about my kids wondering why I monitor their TP usage? No, not at all. They are loved, happy, and feel very important in our household and that's all that matters to them. Knowing how to stretch a dollar is useful information for them, anyway.
I do feel, though, that in these times of uncertainty, not knowing what next week, next month or next year is going to have in store for us, make us closer as a family unit. Each year of my life gives me perspective. Things are relative. What is important is what makes us happy. And when it doesn't seem like we're very happy, looking at one of the kids and hearing "I love you, mommy" or just "hey mom, what's up?" puts everything in the right light.
Here's to us and here's to our future.......may happiness be our biggest accomplishment!