A Pandemic of Grace

Yes, I know.  Pandemic refers to a disease but honestly why can’t we shift our focus to the spread of something more positive?  I’m truly trying to find the silver lining in all the chaos that is now our new normal. 

I’ve been transparent with some people about my struggles over the years, especially this past year. Grief is a staple in my life. It drives what I do and what I don’t do.  It affects how I interpret situations, how I process life. I wish I didn’t have to live this way but it is the hand I was dealt. Last year, with Dad failing, it was harder than losing Holden. With Holden, I was allowed to be weak. I was allowed to feel the immense pain and I was able to express it among those who knew what my heart felt. I felt like I could openly grieve and lean on loved ones to help me carry the pain. 

Not many know what it is like to see a big hero of a Dad slowly turn into a stranger.  Already weak from all I had endured, I didn’t handle his failing and death in a heathy way. I held in a lot because I needed to be strong for everyone else. I needed to keep my composure because I was suffocating anytime I truly saw what was in front of me. My depression became an angry monster and I tried to go off my meds and prove how strong I was and that it couldn’t control me. That was a mistake.  I felt anger and resentment towards those who meant no harm to me and loved me. I was just so mad that people couldn’t see how hard this was for my family because we always put on a brave front.  Truth is, it’s scary for everyone and I feel like we don’t reach out as much as we should. Life is a lot more beautiful when we can be honest with each other.  I see that now. 

Therapy and medication changes has helped and I thought I was doing better. Then came this pandemic. It hit me hard. I was trying to work (in a new position), help with school for 3 of the kids, manage a household and find a way to keep the stress levels down for us all. It was too much. I finally went to a dear friend who is my NP to talk about my anxiety. She’s seen me in some pretty dark places and always has my heart in her best interest. She had a student NP, let’s call her D, with her whom I’ve known forever and I just adore her. Trying to be strong, I started explaining about how I’m struggling with all the demands, fears that I’m hurting my marriage, guilt that my children haven’t had a whole mother since losing Holden and that my mental health struggles are trickling into the kids. Then the tears came. She said some lovely words and then came the punchline “you have to give yourself some grace” (there may have been a “damn” before the grace☺️). Yes!!!!!   I never do. I’m so hard on myself and trying to do it all. People always see this organized, put together person but it’s all a front. Behind the scenes, I’m emotionally struggling with it all.  I recognize that my anxiety is fed by chaos and I try so hard to be prepared and organized to reduce my anxiety. Truth is, I’ve been a hostage to routine due to my anxiety.  Any chaotic shift sends me into a tailspin and I can’t seem to get myself straightened out. It’s exhausting, mentally and physically.  I sat there with tears in my eyes as these two beautiful souls reminded me that I’m allowed to feel what I feel because I’ve been dealt some pretty shitty cards. I know everyone has struggles they’ve faced and I need to embrace what I’ve been through and also how far I’ve come, no matter how small the progress may be.  So with my continued therapy and a new medication regimen, I’m trying to change my focus. 

I’ve been blessed with the most amazing cheerleaders in my life and I need to find a way to give myself grace to see what I’m capable of.  I’ve scared myself with how self critical I can be and this pattern needs to stop. I pride myself in advocating relentlessly for my children’s mental health, yet have fallen short for myself.  Mental health has always been something discussed behind closed doors or not at all. It’s okay to struggle.  It’s okay to feel hopeless. What isn’t okay is feeling like you have nowhere to turn. Where is the rule book that says you have to have your shit together at all times. Why can’t we be a beautiful mess sometimes and give ourselves some grace?  We’re all a little bit broken and it’s those cracks that unite us as humans. No one is perfect. No one has it all figured out. We’re all just bustling away, trying the best we can and societal pressures, life challenges and the constant stimulus of social media clouds over the good we do. It’s time to clear the fog and appreciate the view. Lord knows I haven’t paused long enough to see how wonderful it is. I think I could get used to this change ❤️

He should be two.....

Trigger warning- Living children mentioned.

He should be two on Earth, not in Heaven.  I find myself saying that over and over again in my head.  He should be two. He should be fighting me over potty training and fighting with Lydon over their trucks.  He should be giving kisses to Sawyer and making silly faces to make him laugh.  He should be running away from his sisters, tired of all the hugs and kisses they would most likely be smothering him with. I am constantly replaying our moments in my head with him in it.  What would life be like with him here?

I have lived in this odd haze for the last 2 years with one foot forward and the other firmly planted in a life before his death...a life without grief.  Grief for a loss parent is very complicated.   It is hard for others to understand unless they are in the trenches with us.  Our grief is our connection to our child.  We don't have a lifetime of memories to soothe our heart when it aches.  We don't have vacation pictures or old letters to touch and look at when we need to feel connected.  We were still getting to know this little person and yet we loved them so deeply.  A stranger we fell in love with before we even knew they existed.  And, as quickly as they came into our lives, they were gone.  We were left with deep, confusing sadness that seemed like a dream.  I have to awaken myself to my reality often because it is easy to let my mind wander and trick me into believing none of this ever happened.  The beautiful wooden box that sits within my home and the ache with every beat of my heart reminds me that it did happen.  He existed.  For a very short time on Earth, he existed.  He was beautiful.   A picture of perfection.  It is so hard to believe that something so incredibly breathtaking is gone.  How could this happen?  Why us?  I often play the last few months of his life through my head struggling to find answers.  Was it something I did?  Did we miss something?  Did he suffer?  Did he know how loved he was and still is?  How do I carry on without him?

This life has made strangers into best friends and best friends, as well as some family, into strangers.  It teaches you the importance of empathy and what it truly means to a grieving heart. It makes you question everything....all your relationships,  career, life in general.   You often wonder if you are on the right path because none of them seem right with a piece of your heart missing.  It is a confusing and emotional journey that requires every ounce of your strength to make it through each day....to get to the next sunrise where you are one day closer to being reunited in Heaven.  You have to put your mask on and power through because your reality is far too heavy for those around you.  You find your secret group, filled with beautiful mothers with heartbreakingly similar stories, where you can unload your fears and sadness before it eats you up.  You say 'I'm okay' more than any person should because it's exhausting being honest. You live a lie everyday because your heart is breaking yet you keep on living.  It's the nature of the beast.  Grief is ugly and ever changing.   Just when you think you have it controlled, it breaks free and attacks your heart.  People call me strong....that's a lie.  I'm just trying to stay afloat.  I do what I have to do for my family but it isn't easy.  I don't have the energy to extend to others after I take care of myself and my family.  I'm still trying to figure this all out.  There is no guide on how to live without your child. 

I thank God everyday for my beautiful Earth children and my husband.  They give me purpose and keep me grounded.  They remind me that I am needed and loved.  In the darkest moments, they show me the beauty I possess in this life.  Even on days when it feels as if we have more than we can handle, I find those moments of peace where I know we are blessed beyond measure.  Such a beautiful, wild, crazy life we have.  I wouldn't trade the joy or sadness for anything.  This is  my life. My beautifully designed life. 

Dear Sawyer

**TRIGGER WARNING**  This is a letter to our new rainbow baby.

Dear Sawyer,
I need you to know this:

I fought for you.  I fought demons I never knew existed to make you a reality.  You were never an afterthought; you are exactly what our hearts needed.  You came after our lives were turned upside down and we were struggling to find a way to navigate through the grief.  I was terrified to try again.  My own body was now foreign to me, having carried life and death.  I had to fight off fears that my body couldn't bring another child into this world alive.  Time was not on our side and I had to fight to educate myself and make sure my body was ready.  I had to fight off all the 'what ifs' and let destiny take over.  I had to find a balance in the war between my heart and my body. 

I waited for you.  After Holden was born,  I made a promise that I would not hold another newborn until it was my own child.  It may seem unnatural to some that this thought was in my head so soon after we lost your brother but I knew in my heart that this chapter of our life could not end that way.  I knew Holden wouldn't want it that way.  I met many babies during that time but my heart hurt to see them so alive.  I had to force back my tears or walk away when it was too much.  I knew that my time was coming.  I just had to wait.  Even in the depth of our grief, I knew that we would find hope and peace again.  You brought that to us.

I love you immensely.  I love each of my children with all my heart, whether here on earth or in Heaven.   My love for you feels different as it does with each child; one no less than the other,  just different.  One of the OB nurses, and dear friend of mine, asked me in the hospital if I felt like I was bonding with you.  It made me think because I could see where she was coming from.  Us Mommies sometimes go through the motions of caring for our babies which conveys love but bonding is a higher level.  I had to think about it and really check in with myself to make sure I wasn't just 'going through the motions'.  Truth is, the moment I saw your face, you took my breath away.  I felt an intense pull to you knowing what I went through to get you here and that you and Mommy were bonded as warriors in our own right.  You came into this world screaming and awakened my heart in more ways than you will ever know.  The last time I was in that room, my heart shattered from the silence.

You are your own person.  I truly worry that at some point you may feel as if you are living in Holden's shadow.  Truth is, he is a huge part of our family but so are you and the rest of your siblings.  I do not want your life to always be intertwined with his death.  You are not here because he is not.   You are here because this was our destiny as a family.  I truly believe that you would have come to us regardless.   Your piece to our puzzle existed long before Holden and is now where it should be.  I will spend the rest of my life reminding you of that.  I recently had a discussion with my therapist about the discovery that cells from babies  have been found in a mother's body long after the baby is born.  There is also some speculation that these cells can migrate back to subsequent babies.  If this is true, you are the only one, besides me, in our family to carry a little bit of Holden as well as all your other siblings.  You carry all of us within you and it only seems right that you came to complete the circle that was broken almost a year and a half ago.  You are the piece that has been missing all along, long before our family even started.  Never forget that.

And, finally, I am still broken.  I lost some of my confidence as a mother when we lost Holden.  I am more nervous and may hover over you alot.  I apologize for this but you are almost too good to be true and my heart is still a little fragile.   Give me time.  I will get better.  I am gonna kiss you and hug you as much as I can.  I am gonna snuggle you to my chest and breathe in your smell.  I may take a little bit longer to lay you down at night just to get that extra moment.  I was robbed of this recently and I am going to cherish every moment I get now.  You may see me watch you and your siblings with tears in my eyes.  It's okay, I need to do that.  You may see me get frustrated at times when I shouldn't be.  I apologize, I am still grieving.  You may see me come out of my room with puffy eyes and that's okay.  Sometimes, I need a quiet moment to let it all out.  I miss your brothers and I always will.  It is the price of love and I am left with so many questions my heart and mind cannot answer. 

I often wonder if you hear Holden whispering to you.  If he does, listen. I wonder if you saw him before he sent you to us.  If you did, remember it.  You were handpicked by your big brother and what an incredible gift you are.  As much joy as we feel right now, I still feel the pain sneak up every now and then.  I know this will not be easy and we will certainly face our challenges but I know we have the strength to see it through and come out stronger than ever.  And never forget that you were destined to complete our family.  It just took a long and twisted road to get you here ♡

Love,
Mommy

Finding Peace Amongst the Pain

The other night, after leaving the ER with Lydon, I had some time to pass while we waited for his medication to be ready.  I decided to drive around Dodgeville and look at Christmas lights and thankfully there was still a lot up and they were lit.  Lydon was extra chatty just as he always is when his sisters are not around.  I decided to ask him a couple questions.  My heart was screaming to ask but my mind kept telling my heart to stop being ridiculous.  I finally asked "Do you ever see Holden? Does he talk to you?"  In some insane, irrational part of my brain, I hoped that his answer would be "Sure, Mom, he talks to me all the time. He says 'what's up'!"  Instead, he yelled at me in his mature 2-year-old voice demanding to see more lights- "More lights,  Momma."  I don't know what I wanted or expected.  I just feel that with the 6 month mark looming in the near future, the only memories I have of my precious Holden are slowly fading away.  Tomorrow means the year of his birth and death is over and part of me wants to hold on as long as I can.  There have been little signs of him- the hummingbird on the postcard stamp, the hummingbird on the kleenex box at the dentist and the hummingbird figurine I stumbled upon at the store.  But still, I am left with wanting more.  I will never get what I truly want but my heart still cries out for a sign that we will be okay and it remains unanswered.

Before I ran Lydon to the ER, we had to go say goodbye to his daycare teacher whose beautiful life was cut tragically short just 2 days before Christmas.   Bill told me about the night he was explaining to the girls about how Jenny was going to Heaven and the tears that welled up in Harper's eyes.  What he said next will haunt me forever- "The kids sure have been through a lot this year."  I felt my heart drop just as it did when we found out we lost Holden and Ricky.  My beautiful earth trio has faced more in their short lives than most adults and yet their beautiful minds and hearts continue to amaze us with their unwavering faith.  We took the kids to say goodbye to Jenny because they wanted to.   We gave them that choice.  The girls colored her pictures and they gazed upon the pictures at the funeral home exclaiming how beautiful she looked in her wedding dress.  We paid our respects and headed home feeling a little more empty than before.  Then, Bryn started to talk about how beautiful Jenny's urn was and how she was with our boys now.

Six months ago, my children's experience with death was limited.  Then, they were thrust into death without any safety net and yet they have embraced it, almost found some peace with it.  They do not look at death as we do, they know in their hearts that our loved ones are in the most amazing place- Heaven-and they are okay with that.  Before this profound peace, there were moments where I honestly wondered how I would even make it let alone help my children.  To hear your child say they would rather be in Heaven with their brothers than to be on this earth...it shatters your soul.  How does a child even know the feeling behind such a statement.  I knew then that they lost a little bit of innocence that they would never get back.  To come from that gut wrenching moment to now, I know we are doing the best we can but I can honestly say I was so consumed by my grief that I didn't really stop to think about the complete impact it has had on my children.  That one statement of Bill's snapped me out of my haze.  I felt utterly disappointed in myself but then we went to see Jenny. To see them smile and talk about Jenny in such a beautiful way, I feel as if they have overcome their demons whilst I still must battle mine.  I wonder if instead of talking to them, the boys are sending them comfort,  little hugs of encouragement filled with immense love.  Maybe that is what makes them so comfortable with the concept of death; they know it will all be okay.  I wonder if those are my signs, through the words and actions of my earthly trio.  It is as if the boys have given a little piece of their soul to each of their siblings, giving them strength when their Momma lacked it.

I look to this new year with fear and excitement in my heart.  I know we are stronger now than we were before but we gained that strength through earth shattering loss.  Although stronger, we are still quite fragile so I do hope that 2015 is kind to us.  One year ago, I was newly pregnant with Holden and certain of our life ahead.  Now, I look ahead one day at a time, one foot in front of the other, one prayer at a time ♡

When the Autopilot Shuts Off

Christmas.   The season of joy and renewed spirit.   The season of giving, sharing love and comforting those with broken hearts.  This season has been hard for me.  I feel myself becoming physically ill from the sadness I carry in my heart.  I have been trying hard to make sure there is plenty of Christmas spirit for my earthly trio but it is hard when I would rather run and hide. 

I usually try to post a positive twist on what we have to endure but this season has broke me.  I discussed this with my counselor the other day.  She mentioned that maybe I was still on autopilot and the reality of Christmas and the New Year has forced me to face the facts.  I think she pretty much nailed it. I have been trying to be so strong and not upset people with what my heart truly feels but, you know what, who does that help?  No one.  It only prolongs the enevitable.  I lost a baby, not once but twice.  I heard "there is no heartbeat" on Valentines Day after almost a year of trying to get pregnant.  I had to make the decision to have surgery since my body could not let my first angel go.  I held my beautiful, 6 pound 9 ounce son in my arms and never heard him cry.  I carried him for 36 weeks planning out our perfect future only to have it ripped straight from my heart.  I had to go home and put my needs on hold because my beautiful trio needed their Momma.  I try to cry when they are not around or wait for Bill to fall asleep because the thought of upsetting someone else bothers me and I have to be the strong one, right?  Yes, I have amazing support and so much love around me but those kind gestures will never take this pain away.  What I wouldn't give to hold him again and feel his soft skin against my lips.   What I wouldn't give to rub my fingers through his beautiful hair and tell him how much I love him.   What I wouldn't give to go back to that Sunday and pay more attention to my body.  Maybe things would be different.   Maybe I would have had a little one this Christmas.   Maybe I would have had to sneak away during family get togethers to nurse him and have a quiet moment with my last born.  My last born....he was to be my forever baby.  I was so ready for the next chapter of our life and now it sits here with the corner turned but I do not know if I am ready to turn that page.

This is all us angel Mommas have ...questions, 'what if's and 'maybe's.  We have memories that will never happen.  Our heart feels a little tug every now and then when we realize this is not a dream.  Sometimes, I feel like this is a dream because it seems too sad to have really happened to someone.  Then, I remember all the Mommas that have faced this reality and I am one of them.  Such a heavy, heart wrenching reality to face.  What you see on the outside is so far from what is felt inside.  I try to plaster on a smile and go about my day.  I try to keep myself distracted because when it is quiet, my mind is consumed by my boys.  As I have said before, it is not all rainbows nd sunshine afterwards in a new world where we cherish every moment with our earthly babes.  You have to balance their needs with your needs all while tending to the broken hearts that you all now possess.  It is a complicated process to move forward without causing damage.  We cannot be strong every moment and we are bound to have our downs just as much as our ups.  The most important thing is that people stick around for both the ups and downs.  It may be uncomfortable to stand by someone who is grieving and that is okay.  Sometimes discomfort breeds inappropriate comfort and the damage it may cause is irreversible.  Hearts do not forget easily.   Be kind to each other and remember that a simple 'I am so sorry' is the best therapy around ♡

The Race

The most difficult thing about grief is that it will always catch up to you.  No matter how hard you try to ignore it, it will sneak up on you and attack at your weakest moments.  It may take days, months or years but grief never forgets and it will never let you get away without a few scars.

Right now, I am dancing an delicate dance with my grief.  I am trying to keep the Christmas spirit alive in our home but it sure is hard knowing that there are two less children to open presents on Christmas morning.  Instead of buying presents for Holden, I am shopping for nameplates for his urn.  Instead of buying Ricky Christmas jammies, I am buying ornaments to remember him by.  I am trying to stay positive and make sure my earthly trio get the Christmas they deserve but my heart wants nothing to do with the holidays.

I used to enjoy family get togethers.   They allowed us all to catch up, share stories and show off our beautiful children.  This Saturday, it was too much.  Seeing all that joy only made my heart weaker.  I could not escape my sadness and stepped away for a while.  I laid in the bed next to where Lydon was napping and wept.  I slept off and on while my beautiful rainbow dreamt happily.  I heard all the happy voices booming from downstairs and was mad that I couldn't enjoy that.  I was mad that I had been given this life.  What is the purpose for all of this?  Why must I bear this weight?   I cannot understand why such beautiful souls were taken from me without a single answer.  My mind was spinning.  I was so overwhelmed in a moment where I should have been experiencing pure joy.  Holden would have been 5 months old this Sunday.  He would have been smiling, babbling and being passed around and smothered with kisses.  He would have smelled like my Aunt Judy's perfume as all my others did when they were little and snuggled with her.

Through my tears, I looked over at the crib Lydon was laying in.  He was looking at me very contently.  I picked him up and laid him next to me in bed.  We laid there for a while quietly.  I rubbed his back and hummed to him while he sucked his thumb and snuggled his blankie.  This is it!  This right here! This beautiful creation along with my other two running wildly through the house are the reason I wake up every day and drag myself out of bed.  They are the reason I say 'yes' to my grief because I cannot afford for it to overpower me forever.  I need to allow grief into my life in order to find my happiness again.  I know this race will be a marathon for the rest of my life and I know that just when I think I have won, I will trip and fall.  But, my promise to my 5 beautiful angels is that I will dust myself off, get up and keep going.  This race will not get the best of me, it will just motivate me to run faster.

The Illusionist

My smiles used to come easy.  I could be in the moment and not have lingering thoughts about my boys distract me.  I used to go through life naive to what tragedies could truly happen.  I was happy, truly happy.  Bill and I kept saying how lucky we were.  Granted, we had some difficult moments but we were truly blessed in all we had.  We took life for granted being oblivious to the fact that sometimes when things seem to be going good all the time, something bad always happens.  Then Valentines Day 2012 came around.  Newly pregnant,  nervous about a small bleed, Bill and I walked into the ultrasound room expecting to see our baby dance around on the screen.  We had tried for almost a year to get pregnant.  We wanted this baby so badly knowing how amazing being a parent was.  I was so excited to calm my fears by seeing my little bean.  No heartbeat seen...I am going to call the doctor...I am so sorry.  Our lives changed in that moment.  Why were we being punished?  I thought we were good people.  How am I going to tell the girls?  I learned how to function with grief.  I learned when and where you could let your emotions slip.  Bill and I both feel that Ricky gave us Lydon and prepared us for Holden.  In his short time on this earth, he gave us some powerful gifts.  That is a lot to carry every day.

 

I dealt with my grief for 2.5 years only to have that scab ripped wide open when Holden was born.  The pain was way too familiar and I really wondered how I was going to go back to life after feeling like it ended.  I was tormented every day with trying to be present but allowing myself to grieve.  Those who saw me in the early weeks saw me at my worst.  Those who have seen me after really only see the me I allow them to see.

 

I am not the woman I was before.  You may see me laugh and smile and be my goofy self but even in those moments I feel pain, I feel quilt.  How could I be happy when I know that I have two babies in Heaven?  If I seem too happy, will people think I am heartless? When I meet someone new, I am mentally preparing myself for the moment when they ask if I have kids.  Do I tell them the truth?  Am I emotionally strong enough in this moment to handle that conversation?  I struggle with these thoughts daily.  Those who have been in my shoes understand.  Some may still be in the midst of it; some may have found ways to cope with it.   I am still learning. 

 

On top of trying to cope with life, I am trying to be a good parent.  I think there is a misconception that after a loss, us angel parents become amazing, perfect parents who relish every moment with our earthly children.  That couldn't be farther from the truth.  Yes, I cherish my moments with my kids more than I did before but this agonizing sadness has weakened me.  I still get frustrated.  I still yell and then feel guilty.  I still find myself getting overwhelmed and not looking at the bigger picture.  Thing is, I need to be a parent all while tending to my own needs which have drastically increased.   I do not have the luxury of stopping life to focus 100% on me.  There are three little blessings that are relying on me to get it together and care for them.  Without my husband by my side, I never would be able to do it.  On top of dealing with my own grief, there is the sadness that my husband and children carry.  Life right now is a roller coaster with no stopping point seen.  I believe one thing we have accomplished out of all this is that we are more aware of making sure each one of us knows how truly loved they are.  

 

I feel like I am able to function the best I possibly can with the cards I have been dealt.  I honestly could not have gotten to this point without all the love and support that surrounds me.  I try to remember all the good I have seen come out of this and know that I am a small part of it.  It warms my heart to know that my sadness has brought awareness and understanding that loss is felt for an eternity.  My life may be somewhat of an illusion at times but eventually the curtains will be drawn and all will be revealed.   It comes with strength which I find more of every day.