Survival

I have been thinking about what I would want to write tonight all week. It has been a rough week and I am not even sure where to start. The emotions are feeling fresh all over again. The tearfulness, the weighted sadness, and the loneliness.

For those who have not experienced the loss of a baby, I hope you never do, but I will tell you that it feels lonely. It is an all encompassing loneliness. It is such a taboo topic, that people don't discuss it which just amplifies that feeling of being alone. I have sought comfort in the stories of others. During my pregnancy with Ryan, I first was introduced to the blog - Bring the Rain by Angie Smith, and I remember reading the words and feeling as if they came straight from my soul. Then I read her book "I Will Carry You" and listened to the words of the song by the same name and there were often moments where I felt if you just changed the names parts could be my story. I joined a group of moms who made the choice to continue their pregnancies with the knowledge that their child would likely never come home with them, that their home would be their eternal home. Through all of these, there was a gift of knowing that I was not alone, of feeling that I was part of a community. Even with this, most days I feel very much alone.

The latest book I have read to seek comfort in the journey of another is "Waiting with Gabriel" by Amy Kuebelbeck. In the book, she writes about how it was suggested to them that those "experiencing great sorrow" have "glimpses of heaven". We were given glimpses of heaven through the amazing support from friends and family. We do have amazing individuals who have supported us through this journey, but this is a journey that few walk. I struggle to find comfort in the grace and presence of God. I know that there was never a moment that I was truly alone and that even when I did not want to acknowledge or accept his presence, God's grace, love and presence never waivered, even if I did. I know that Scott grieves for our son just as I do and that his loss was just as great, but I will say, and I am almost positive that he will agree, that our journeys are different. Those differences at times feel minor but in other moments feel like a vast divide. It has been four months and there are still many moments when there is an emptiness in my arms that I can not find adequate words to describe.

I am starting to feel again. It feels good, even in the moments of pain. It feels good to be able to cry again and to miss my son and not just function. For several months, I was just functioning, I locked up most of my emotions and just functioned. It was my survival mode and it did just that, it allowed me to survive. But I know that survival mode can not last forever and be healthy. In fact, I was feeling guilty about the lack of feelings, the lack of tears. I have hidden myself away. I have not visited Ryan's grave often because it is hard to walk into a cemetery and look at the grave of your child and remain in the survival mood void of feelings.

Tonight I try to find a new survival mood. Tomorrow I am going to go meet a beautiful baby girl who is the daughter of a friend, who was never afraid to be part of my journey. But I struggle, I struggle to find the strength to even think of walking in their hospital room. I have not been around a newborn since Ryan and I don't know how to be there and not be engulfed in the ache for my child.

I pray for God's grace and comfort and for the reminder that I am not alone.

Needing a Break

Are there any available teleporters out there? I would even take a time machine or a jet that can pick me up at my door. I just need to get away!

How is it, that life always seems to know just when you think you might be starting to get it together? It is always at those times that I feel like "life" figures out a way to kick me and remind me that I am not as pulled together as I think I am. To remind me that I haven't "gotten past" things and I haven't conquered things. That there are still so many things I have not figured out. Life always has a good way of reminding me that the journey will never be without adventure and that the adventures will not always feel good.

Lately, I had felt like I was managing. I was living my day to day life without breakdowns. I was able to concentrate and have some good days. Ryan was still at the front of my thoughts more often than not, but it was more like a presence, he was just there. I had really stopped talking about him, maybe because that way I could protect myself from the grief and pain that I have now realized was hanging out just under the surface. I had become a "lurker" on the website site community of other mom's walking the same journey. I was no longer commenting, just lurking and even that was done rarely. I had found a safe bubble that I was surviving in.

But then...came church. Being at church during my pregnancy was often were I would stop trying to hold things in and acknowledge the pain, the doubt, the worries. In the last month, though, I had even figured out how to hold it together at church, no more tears. On Sunday, though, listening to the sermon (yes, I do listen!) there was one part that just stung. It was probably a passing moment for others. It was a brief discussion of why we have children, of the relationships we hope to have, the holidays we plan to celebrate, the birthdays, the accomplishments. And in that brief moment, every part of my heart that I thought was healing, just ripped back open. Even now, the tears continue to come as I think of the things I was looking forward to experiencing with Ryan that will never be - the first smile, laugh, hearing his cry, his first Christmas, his first step - all of those moments. And I find myself sad and angry all over again!

That moment just seemed to be the tipping point. At work on Monday, I worked with a family to make arrangements for hospice. It is not an everyday activity for me at work, but it is a regular occurrence and I had worked on hospice arrangements previously since I returned to work. But this one, it just hit home. It was a family that had just learned that their loved had limited time, they had no preparation, this wasn't a drawn out disease, the individual wasn't in their 80s or 90s, and the family was hurting. It was a reminder of not feeling ready, but are you ever ready to bury a child? I still remember when I was told the night Ryan was born that he would have to be delivered, I looked at Scott and said "I'm not ready". I wanted more time and I still long for time.

Later that same day, I had a patient ask about a necklace I was wearing. It is one of my favorite necklaces because it has both of my boy's names on it. I answered the patient's question but telling her just that and then she asked how old my boys were. I didn't even see it coming, but there was no answer I could give other than the truth - one is 4 and one died shortly after birth...

I don't know that I ever realized how tricky grief is, how it hides out and then sneaks around the corner and hits you face on without any expectation. Ryan, it has been 4 months and I miss you so!


I know there is a mom out there today giving birth to another child with TD. My heart goes out to her, her family and her beautiful child. May God wrapping his loving arms around her...

Resolution

A new year. I have never been big on New Year's Resolutions. For those who don't know, I am a bit of a perfectionist and New Year's Resolutions just present an opportunity to fail (I don't like that!). But this year is different, I am different. I am not going to have a long list of resolutions, instead I have one basic one - Reduce the Clutter!

Now for me, the clutter has a physical aspect. Our home has clutter. Don't worry Scott won't be offended by that statement. We all contribute to the clutter. But this will be the year of purging and simplifying.

But there is so much more than the physical clutter, there is the emotional clutter, the trying to be perfect. This year is about being selfish. While I love being a wife and mom, I realize that right now there are moments that it has to be about me. I have to find ways to take care of myself so that I can be a wife and mom. This past year, I have had people comment on my strength and it always takes me back. I will tell you that Scott was strong, Ryan was strong, but if you could look inside of me, you would see crumbles. But I won't fall apart, I'm too stubborn. Well, that, and I have an amazing God, husband, family and friends who don't even realize that they are the glue holding me together.

There were all the moments I never thought I would survive. I never thought I could hold my son while he died and now I won't trade that moment (well, unless he got to home with me). But basically, I couldn't imagine him dying out of my arms. I never thought I would get through having to bury my son, but I did. I never imagined that I could have good holidays without him, but I did. Please don't think that I didn't miss him or that I didn't spend time thinking about what our holidays should have been like, but we were able to find joy in the holidays. My greatest gift at Christmas was that Ryan's marker had been placed at his grave and that I could run my fingers across the letters of his name. It was hard to watch Sean play with his cousins and know that I will never see that with Ryan. My heart still aches every day, but every day I survive and I will continue to do so because of Ryan and for Ryan.

So this is it, the year of reducing clutter. Getting rid of physical clutter, financial clutter and emotional clutter. The year of simplifying. Of recognizing the blessings in our life and just enjoying time with each other.