Wish List

I first read this wish list on another baby loss mom's facebook post and since have read it several places all over the web. I just had to share, because it says some things better than I could.

Wish List for a Bereaved Parent

1. I wish my child hadn't died, I wish I had him back

2. I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak my child's name. My child LIVED and was very important to me. I need to hear that he was important to you also.

3. If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn't because you have hurt me. My child's death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my child and you have allowed me to share my grief, I thank you for both.

4. I wish you wouldn't "kill" my child again by removing his pictures, or other remembrances from your home.

5. Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me, I need you now more than ever.

6. I need diversions, I want to hear about you, but I also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you would me talk about my child, my favorite topic of the day.

7. I know you might pray for me often. I also know that my child's death pains you, too. I wish you would let me know those things through a phone call, a card, note, or a real big hug.

8. I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in a short period of time. I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over. I will suffer the death of my child until the day I die. Grief is a life long process.

9. I am working very hard in my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss my child, and I will always griever that he is dead.

10. I wish you wouldn't expect me "not to thing about it" or to "be happy". Neither will happen for a very long time, so don't frustrate yourself.

11. I don't want to have a "pity party", but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.

12. I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I'm feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.

13. When I say "I'm doing okay", I wish you could understand that I don't "feel" okay and that I struggle daily.

14. I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having are very normal. Depression, anger, hopelessness, and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So please excuse me when I am quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.

15. Your advice to "take one day at a time" is excellent advice, however, a day is too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that I'm doing good to handle an hour at a time.

16. Please excuse me if I seem rude, certainly not my intent. Sometimes the world around me goes too fast and I need to get off. When I walk away, I wish you would let me find a quiet place to spend time alone.

17. I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my child died, a big part of me died with him. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.

18. I wish very much that you could understand - understand my loss and grief, my silence and my tears, my void and my pain. But...I pray daily that you will never understand.

And one more, I am adding, for the baby loss moms

I wish that you would understand that the importance and significance of my child's life is not to be measured in breaths that were taken; minutes,hours or days that were lived; but in love...and my child was LOVED

Hope

A blog hop has been started in the baby loss mom community and at first I was hesitant to participate, but here it goes, for Ryan.

Hope is a word that has rested in the forefront of my mind since the time of Ryan's diagnosis. Hope for any miracle. The hope that we would meet our son during this life. Hope that he would be without pain. Hope that our marriage would not only survive but thrive with Ryan's memory. Hope that our son, Sean, would grow up with a memory of his little brother and a heart of compassion.

In the depths of grieve, there are moments that I want to throw hope aside! But that is when I am reminded that those miracles we hoped and prayed for, they happened! No, Ryan was not healed on this Earth, but he is healed in Heaven. We got to meet him alive, he was with us for two beautiful hours. There was never a sense of pain during his life, in fact it was quite peaceful. Our marriage and family are surviving and we find strength in Ryan's memory.

Just yesterday I experienced a moment that melted my heart, it helped me hold on to my hope that Sean will remember his little brother. I was driving in the car with Sean and he was making up songs as only a 4 year old can do. Most of he songs were about cars, his toys and his friends. But then the last song he sang began with lines about loving his baby in heaven. So simple, but so perfect and so full of hope.


Our prayers have all been answered, I have finally arrived.
The healing that had been delayed has now been realized.
No one's in a hurry. There's no schedule to keep.
We're all enjoying Jesus, just sitting at His feet.


If you could see me now, I'm walking streets of gold.
If you could see me now, I standing strong and whole.
If you could see me now, you'd know I've seen his face.
If you could see me now, you'd know the pain is erased.
You wouldn's want me to ever leave this place,
If you could only see me now.

(If you could see me now - Kim Noblitt)






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Five Months

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." Robert Frost

How I want it to stand still! I want time to stop and go in reverse, or atleast go on hold. Five months is too long. I want to hold Ryan again. I want to smell his head and count his fingers and toes. I want to take him all in again. But no matter what I want, life goes on.

During my pregnancy I was given a bracelet that had a cross on it that was also a prayer box. I received it after learning of Ryan's diagnosis and worry nearly every day. The piece of paper in the prayer box had a simple prayer for peace and comfort and for Ryan. I remember sitting with my hands on my belly and the cross lying there and I would pass my thumb over the cross while praying for Ryan. The prayers would range from thankfulness for my son, hopes to feel his kicks, hopes to meet him in this live and the ultimate hope for the miracle I wouldnt even dare to speak of.

I have lost the bracelet and I am mad. Mad at myself for not realizing it was gone right away and mad at God. Yes, I am mad at God over a bracelet! Was not everything else I have endured enough. Is it not enough that I have buried a child, that now I don't have the item that is connected to memories of my time with Ryan. The item that symbolized my faith that God was not abandoning me or my child, that he could find a way for there to be a positive outcome for a devastating situation! I know it is just metal, but it is so much more. I know I am still blessed, but I also still feel surrounded by darkness and I am not feeling as confident about the breaking of dawn to bring forth the light.


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Valentine's

To my Valentine,
We have been together for over half of my life. You are one of God's greatest blessings in my life. You have loved me at my worst and stood beside me at my best. You have cried with me, laughed with me, and been angry at the world with me. I am proud of our family and there is no one that I would rather raise my son with than you. We both know that our relationship is far from perfect and we have had our share of "discussions", but you have shown me through your words and actions, your dedication to our marriage and our family.

Your hands held mine when we said our vows. Your hands held mine when we welcomed Sean to our family. Your hands held mine when we received the news that Ryan would not come home with us. Your hands held Ryan and cradled him in his short but significant life. Your hands held mine when we said goodbye to Ryan. Your hands held mine at his funeral. Your hands hold my heart.

Thank you for loving me, for loving our children. Thank you for always standing beside me.

"We're dancing in the minefields

We're sailing in the storm

This is harder than we dreamed

But I believe that's what the promise is for

So when I lose my way, find me

When I lose love's chains, bind me

At the end of all my faith, till the end of all my days

When I forget my name, remind me

'Cause we bear the light of the Son of Man

So there's nothing left to fear

So I'll walk with you in the shadowlands

Till the shadows disappear

'Cause he promised not to leave us

And his promises are true

So in the face of all this chaos, baby,

I can dance with you"

~Dancing in the Minefields by Andrew Peterson

Boxes

A small box with a green ribbon being carried by a women. Not noticed by most, but heartbreaking to some. How does it come to be that I leave work at the same time a family's hopes, dreams, love is being carried out...

In a moment, I am back in September. Back, sitting in a funeral home looking at a satin covered box that holds my hopes, dreams, love. Back standing beside that small box helping Sean say goodbye to his baby brother, smoothing down my baby's hair, trying to accept that he is being held in the arms of God. I am sitting in a cemetery singing Amazing Grace, placing a rose on that little box and saying goodbye. Holding my husband's hand and grasping for hope.

One little box...



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Dinners

Since I previously made public my New Year's resolution, I am holding myself responsible for updating on it. The recap is that I resolved to reduce clutter in my life. The clutter includes physical items, emotional clutter, financial clutter (debt), and items that are cluttering my time. I made this resolution in memory of Ryan, for what he taught me about what is important in my life.

The first thing I have addressed is things that are cluttering my time. I am awful at mealtimes - from planning meals, grocery shopping, preparing meals - all parts. I tend to forget to take things out of the freezer in a timely manner to be ready when needed for a meal. I also have a wonderful habit of not having ingredients or not preparing the meal before the ingredients spoil. We also throw away a lot of food. With all of these together, we were eating out often and when eating at home, I would be stressed while preparing and eating dinner. All of that has been causing emotional and financial clutter. Enter Dream Dinners.

After Ryan's death, a group of our close friends provided us with a gift card to Dream Dinners. The day before I returned to work, I visited Dream Dinners for the first time. I was there for about an hour and a half and left with around 12 meals to go in my freezer. While this may not seem monumental to most, it has truly impacted my home life.

When I returned to work, I didn't have to think about dinners. I didn't wonder if I had ingredients at home for a meal. It was truly as simple as picking a few meals on the weekend for the week ahead and placing them in the fridge. The stress was gone from preparing dinner. I now longer felt like we were wasting food or ingredients. The three serving meals provided dinner for Scott and I, and I would get a lunch out of it! We were even able to work on portion control (something both of us are not very good at!). Then at the end of dinner, cleanup was even easier.

In a week, I will go back for my fourth month at Dream Dinners. It has become part of routine and has helped me organize our other meals for the month. I don't think our friends knew how that simple gift card would truly impact our family!


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Snow

I truly love the sight of freshly fallen snow. The brightness that radiates at night when everything is covered with snow and the glittering when the sun is shining down upon the snow. In Texas, we have learned not to expect much snow, but we always hope for at least a good snow day. Well this week, we had our winter, 3 days of ice/snow and then more snow today. Now after having to commute to work on icy roads and missing the chance to just hang out at home with my son and watch him play in the snow, I am ready for summer. These past few days though have hit home in an unusual way.

See, snow takes what some consider ugly or unappealing - the dead of winter, the dead/dormant grass - and turns it into a beautiful landscape. It covers up that image and makes it something beautiful. That beauty, the changing of the image, it reminds me of Ryan. For what to some, would have been an awful situation, something dreadful without joy, brightness, or "glitter" - God took that situation and made it beautiful. He gave my husband, my family and myself the chance to embrace a child and in a loving, heartbreaking moment, release our child to his Heavenly Father. He took a time that could have been filled with darkness and found a way to shine in brightness in the moment I saw my son take a breath. God gave us our son and when our son was unable to live on this Earth, God opened his arms and welcomed him home, the snow on our dark world.