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.

Happy Birthday Little Man

Chase turned two yesterday.  We've been without our precious little boy for two years.  It seems like yesterday, yet it seems like forever ago.  I can't believe how time flies but I can still imagine him in his isolette as if it happened moments ago.  So many emotions, so many feelings, so much fear.  The trauma that we both endured still clouds over the fact that he is gone.  Still searching for reasons, answers, clues.  And I still don't understand it.  Emma asks questions from time to time about what happened and why Chase isn't here with us.  I don't have all the answers for her.  I never will, and neither will she.  The anger I harbor surfaces at his birthday....I think it will for quite some time.  I look at Owen and don't see any real reason Chase shouldn't be here.  Yet I look at Owen and know he wouldn't be here if it weren't for Chase.

I am so lucky to have dear friends and family that sent their best wishes yesterday, letting me know we were in their thoughts.  The difference this year....I am holding a sweet babe in my arms.  When I cry, Owen smiles to let me know it's okay.  He is here.  He is healthy and he is here to help me through these moments.  For now, anyway...while I can pick him up and hold him in my arms and see Chase in my mind, yet feel Owen in my arms.  A pain that will forever be there, and a comfort at the same time.  Just as I'm getting used to Owen being in my life, I am still getting used to Chase not.  The absence of one, the presence of another.  Both my boys.  Both from my womb, sharing a part of me that only my kids know.  And carrying that part of me with them wherever they go.  

"I wanted you more than you will ever know, so I sent love to follow wherever you go."

We are doing fine.  We are laughing and smiling and enjoying life.  But we still miss our little one.  We always will.  Until we meet again...

Dear Chase,

Happy 2nd birthday my little man.  I know you had a terrific birthday party up in heaven.  I try to picture you as a toddler running around, eating cake, opening presents, sitting on my lap, playing with your siblings.  But it's hard.  I want you here with us.  You are a part of our family and always will be.  We will never forget you, always love you, always celebrate you.  I love you sweet boy.  I love you to the moon and back.

Mommy

My April

April is here.  I have hardly had a chance to notice.  Though I know.  I feel it.  The date is creeping up on me.  I did not get a chance to post anything about our Spring Break trip.  We had a blast.

The kids loved the ocean.  It was their first time at the Pacific.  We could have/should have stayed there all day.  It was very relaxing and very peaceful.  My favorite landscape is definitely the ocean.  I looked around to find Chase....I hoped knew he was with us.  I found him in the clouds.....

Owen had a great time, too.  This was at Sea World, our favorite theme park!

Last week I was taking care of sick kids.  Owen had a cold that lasted 10 days.  It was absolutely horrible and very stressful--for all of us.  It turned into an ear infection at the end, which the antibiotics took care of.  He's all better now, but was pretty rough for a while.  Then Reese came down with some pretty bad bronchitis.  Another scare for me....though these days, it doesn't take much to make me worry.  After some meds, he's recovered, too.  So just when I think we are back on track....I look at the calendar and realize it.

I scheduled and rescheduled appointments this month several times and turns out, a couple rescheduled appointments are for tomorrow.  April 14th.  I can't believe I scheduled them on this day.   I don't know why, but I wish I wouldn't have done that.  We have Reese's first baseball game and I am so concentrated on not crashing his happy times with "having" to celebrate his brother's birthday and angelversary in the midst of his baseball season kickoff and his own birthday.  I'm not sure how to do this.  We are not skipping any games and are trying to fit in a trip to go visit Chase's gravesite before Reese's birthday.....but it's going to be a rush to fit it all in.  I hate that he is buried so far away.  We still have not laid his headstone.  It is finished and sitting at the funeral home....but we have not been able to complete this last step.  There are so many questions that were never answered and this was one of them....one we have struggled with and still not answered....

I could not sleep last night after Owen's midnite feeding because I looked at the clock and was in shock at the date.  I found myself going through all the events all over again.  Remembering as much as I could as I looked at the pictures I have in my room.  Wishing soooo badly I would have held my baby boy with so much more passion than I did in those pictures.  Hurting because I feel guilty for not picking him up the first moment I saw him in the NICU.  Not picking him up, because of course I couldn't, but I wished I would have put my hands under him....something I would do now without hesitation.  Just to feel him.  So that he could feel me.  Those memories are so painful.  My eyes investigate every millimeter of those photos now.  Wishing I had more.  Trying to distinguish actual images in my mind from the precise moments captured with each camera shot.  Wondering if I really remember anything other than these photos nowadays.  Hurting.  Still. Hurting. So. Bad.  I miss him.  With every ounce of my body, I miss my little boy.  Owen sleeps on my chest while I tell him I love him.  And that I love and so painfully miss his big brother.  All in the same beat of my heart.

This Life of Mine (Ours)

After Chase died, I wanted to get pregnant immediately.  And I didn't want to admit this right away, because I didn't want to replace Chase--or want anyone else (Patric or the kids) to think I wanted to either.  But eventually I admitted it and yearned so deeply for the physical contact of a new baby that I did not get with Chase.  I felt we needed one more link in our family, to make it 7.  The doctor wouldn't give us permission to try to get pregnant until we had waited 6 months, he wanted 8 months, after my pregnancy with Chase.  He said the longer we waited, the more I would be healed and would be ready for the next pregnancy.  In my mind, I wasn't getting any younger, and didn't want to be having babies into my 40s, though I'm sure I would have changed my opinion of that if I had to!  I told Patric that if we got pregnant again, I was "sure", though I was half joking, that I would need a shrink throughout the pregnancy.  I anticipated those 9 months of being very emotional and me being very scared about what all could possibly go wrong.  Though, even when everything went absolutely perfect at each checkup, we would both look at each other with thoughts going through our mind that everything was absolutely perfect with Chase, so until we brought the baby home, none of this meant anything in our minds.

I was surprised.  Somehow, throughout this last pregnancy, I felt amazingly calm.  It seemed like after our first ultrasound at 13 weeks telling us that everything looked perfect, I had a monkey off my back.  I got through the first trimester (when my 2 prior miscarriages happened) and I credited Chase with this peace that I felt, thanking him for getting me through the pregnancy every day.  Near the end of the 9 months, my emotions started going down a different path as I missed Chase so dearly.  I could see the light at the end of the tunnel so-to-speak and I felt like I should have done all this with Chase--that he was all I really wanted. Fear set in again and I began to get a little anxious, but for the most part, I felt sane.  I didn't feel crazy, as I read comments and blogs from other rainbow baby mamas that had felt the same things I was feeling.

Then Owen was born.

I never once thought of Owen as a replacement of Chase.  In fact, I felt like Owen would help me heal slightly.  He would help me remember Chase and imagine him at ages that I couldn't without this little physical being in my arms and under my care.  But all in all, I thought I would be happy.  I knew there would be sadness because I would miss Chase as I held Owen.  But overall, I pictured a road of fun and happiness ahead of me with the new baby.

What I am about to say is not to be interpreted as I do not want Owen.  That is not the case at all.  He gives me light in my life, he puts a smile on my face, he has made my heart grow bigger each day he is here with us.  What I did not know about this rainbow baby, is the state of fear that would come with him.  I did not know that I would be so scared to lose him; that every cough, grimmace, cry would possibly send me into a mini (hidden) panic attack.  My heart and head are at constant battle....still.  I know in my heart that Owen is doing just fine.  I know that his cries are because he is either hungry or has a dirty diaper and that his collicky moments are because his tummy hurts with gas pains.  But in my head, I am constantly on alert.  Is everything really okay?  And I'm not the only one.  Karly, who is not only Owen's big sister, but his second mommy, asks, "mom, why is he crying?"  Sometimes I say, "baby, he just has a tummy ache like you do sometimes."  But sometimes when my anxiety level is skyrocketed, I say, "I don't know."  Then when I get him calmed down after a crying bout, she asks me, "Mom, is he breathing?"  And the truth of the matter is, I'm always checking.   Now, to some extent, we all do this as mothers.  Even to our toddlers and big kids, we check...all the time.  It's part of our instincts, habits, etc.  But with Owen, our rainbow, it's to a much greater extent.  I look at her with a little smile and say, "Yes, honey, of course he is."  But when I know that my 9-year-old daughter really just asked me if her baby brother is dead or not, my stomach turns.  Because when you have held a tiny baby in your arms that is dead or dying, it doesn't matter if he is your son, your brother, your nephew or your grandson.....you never forget what that feels like.  And you fear it to ever happen again.

Editted to add: Tonight at supper Reese said the prayer.  He always prays, among other things, that Chase is safe up in heaven and tells God he misses him so much.  Tonight, though, he prayed that God will "let Owen stay alive."

I didn't know I would be living like this.  In some state of fear, constant fear, that something is wrong with Owen.  I find myself particularly scared of the things that happened to Chase, or the things we saw go wrong with him.  Chase's legs were severely blotchy his last two days.  I don't remember what they call it but it's due to poor circulation and it happens to us all, especially to our fingers and hands when we get cold.  So when Owen's hands or feet get this way, I go back to the hospital when Chase's whole body looked that way and I get so scared.  My heart knows that Owen is fine...but my head remembers.  All the jerks, facial expressions, breathing changes....all of that which is completely normal with newborns, now sends me into a frenzy.  Nothing that shows on the outside, but on the inside, the wheels are turnin'.   My thoughts get worrisome until I see whatever it is I need to see to make me feel better.  

Owen has been a little collicky this past week and it's very hard to comfort him, and then explain to everyone else that he's fine and give them their warm and fuzzy.  Patric is very good about not stressing me out, but I know that he's feeling/thinking exactly the same as me.  The kids are not so good about not stressing me but I can lie to them and tell them everything is fine, whether I know it is or not.  

There are days when I think about all this and just marvel at this life I now live.  I think about what life would have been with Chase compared to how it is now with Owen.  I wonder how this will affect us all long term.  Even Owen.  I never look at him and not think about Chase.  I feel the need to talk to Chase when I'm alone and talking to Owen, too.  I don't know why.   Owen is absolutely awesome.  I wouldn't trade him or everything I've been through (recovery, nursing pain) for anything.  He's worth every ounce of pain I've felt.  I just didn't know that I'd be living in constant fear for his life.  I was so laid back last time (with Reese).  Everything went so smoothly compared to this.  And I was even in the hospital with Reese for 4 days with RSV when he was 7 months.  I don't know, maybe I'll get there.  I tell myself that as Owen gets older, it'll get easier.  Ha!  Maybe if he could just tell me what is wrong when he cries, then I don't have to guess and tell everyone else for him.  But I don't want to wish away time.  I want to enjoy every moment.  I want to love on him and squeeze him and kiss him each day because I know he will grow up so fast.  

I love Owen.  I love having a new baby at home.  I just never knew a rainbow could be so scary.

Where we are

My friend Carly just published some amazingly helpful posts for babyloss parents and anyone who knows anyone going through this, from friends and family to healthcare professionals.  I find these helpful even nearly 2 years from losing sweet Chase.  This journey is not one I would chose for anyone, but we don't have the choice.  When we are on it, some days the only way to make it through the day is with the help of others on the same ride.  Through blogs, emails, cards, etc.,  I have found comfort from "friends" that have reached out to me and honestly know what I am feeling and going through.  Understanding that grief doesn't just happen and then it's over, but that it comes in waves is crucial to comforting someone experiencing this.  

I knew that bringing home Owen would be emotional, but I didn't know that I would grieve Chase as deeply as I have in Owen's presence.  There is not a moment that goes by that I don't think of Chase and miss him painfully.  Catching a glimpse of Owen from afar, sleeping peacefully and remembering Chase in his isolette; wishing I had a better picture of Chase that I could see his whole face; blotchy skin on Owen and remembering Chase's when he was declining; the clothes that Chase should have worn and handed down to Owen with spit-up stains but instead, they are brand new.  I worry every time Owen makes a funny face or twitches in his sleep that something is wrong, remembering how scared I was that Chase was going to have a seizure...and then he finally did.  And newborns twitch a lot, let's face it, so just imagine my anxiety levels these days.
I have listened to Chase's song, Godspeed, a lot since Owen came home--it's on all the playlists I made for him.  I could not listen to it before as it was just too painful.  And now when I listen to it, it really isn't any less painful, but I want to hear it.  It's strange to me because it acutely reminds me of the funeral service yet I want to hear it and listen to the whole thing, with Owen in my arms.  I feel a little safer, I guess.  I can still cry every time I hear it, but I almost want it to bring me happiness, too.  I can't take away the sorrow I feel, but I can make it a little happier by sharing these moments with Owen....being thankful for Chase and everything that he taught me and brought me.  It isn't any easier to hear this song, but now I want to hear it.....whereas before Owen came home, I couldn't bear to hear that melody.

I still feel a lot of pain, a LOT of pain.  I have thought about some pretty painful moments that I never let enter my head since losing Chase and I cry.  But again, I am thankful now, too.  This journey has continued, but the path I am on has changed.  Some moments I am so sad that I still don't think I can move on.  But I do, because I want to.  I have beauty in my life.  I am deeply blessed.  Yet no matter how much joy I feel, I will always feel sorrow.  But I know that I will get to see Chase again some day.  And that he is waiting for us in a place that is incredibly beautiful.   I know this in my heart.  Yet miss him with my entire soul.  Carly said it this way and I thank her for putting it in these words.  She is an amazing woman.

"I thank God every day for all 4 of my children. I am not angry now, but thankful that my son has given me this beautiful life that I live today. I know that the place that Christian is in is so incredibly amazing. I will miss him every day for the rest of my life. I thank my angels for helping me to rise above my sadness. I thank God for sending Christian into my life even if it was only for the shortest stay.

I found my way out of the dark forest and I am now living in the amber glow. Life is rich. Life is precious. Life is beautiful."