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!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
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...
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...
Friday, January 14, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Christmas
In a way, this feels like my first Christmas. It is my first Christmas with a child in heaven. It is my first Christmas were I struggle with including Ryan but not stealing from Sean's joy and innocence. Last night, while getting ready for bed, Sean asked me when Ryan will grow up. It means so much to me that he still thinks about his little brother, but it hurts my heart that he is having to learn about death at such a young age. My thoughts go out to all of those who are spending there first Christmas with a loved one in heaven.
My First Christmas in Heaven
I see the countless Christmas trees around the world below.
With tiny lights like Heaven's stars reflecting on the snow,
The sight is so spectacular please wipe away that tear,
For I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year.
I hear the many Christmas songs that people hold so dear,
But the sound of music cannot compare with the Christmas choir up here,
I have no words to tell you the joy their voices bring
For it is beyond description to hear the angels sing.
I know how much you miss me, I see the pain inside your heart
But I am not so far away, we really aren't apart
So be happy for me dear ones, you know I hold you dear,
And be glad I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year.
I send you each a memory of my undying love,
After all love is a gift more precious than pure gold.
It is always most important in the stories that Jesus told.
Please love each other as the Father said to do,
For I cannot count the blessings or love He has for you,
So have a Merry Christmas and wipe away that tear
Remember I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year.
Unknown
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Three months
It is hard to believe that tomorrow is three months. Three months of grief, guilt, fears, tears, and even (though hard for me to imagine at times) joy. In the midst of the holidays, I miss the times I won't have with Ryan. There is no first Christmas, no picture with Santa, no memories of our family of four at home, together. Ryan, you are ever present in my thoughts.
A Pair of Shoes
Author Unknown
I am wearing a pair of shoes
They are ugly shoes
Uncomfortable shoes
I hate my shoes
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step
Yet, I continue to wear them
I get funny looks wearing these shoes. They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in other's eyes that they are glad that they are my shoes and not theirs
They never talk about my shoes
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them
But, once you put them, you cannot take them off
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes
There are many pairs in this world
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try to walk in them
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt
No woman deserves to wear these shoes
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything
They have made me who I am
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has a lost a child
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