Dear Holden: This Is Harder Than I Thought

**Trigger Warning: Rainbows and sunshines mentioned**

Dear Holden,

I know it seems like forever since I have really talked to you.  I am usually just sending up quick prayers asking you and Ricky to comfort our family and friends who are struggling.  I know you see Mommy struggling lately and how hard it must be for you to see that.  I decided that I needed to focus on my grief more by doing the things I left unfinished because it was just too hard to face at the time.  I wish I never had to know this life but I cannot imagine a life without you or your brother.  

This week, I ordered a name plate for your urn.  I couldn't help but think that I should have been looking at birthday invites and getting cake ideas.  The girl at the store was very sweet but her smile quickly faded when I told her what I was looking for.  After I wrote out the information to be engraved on the plate, she paused and seemed to let it sink in.

Holden James Wamsley
Born Into Heaven
July 7, 2014 at 4:04 am
6 pounds 9 ounces

Amazing how just a short amount of words can have such an impact.  You are always on my mind but seem to be more than normal lately.  I don't know if it is because I started feeling your brother kicking, going on the memorial walk knowing that at the last one you were in my belly, your birthday getting closer, the hummingbirds or recently finding out that your sweet, unborn cousin will be joining Ricky and you in Heaven.  My heart is heavy right now.

I had been floating through life, trying to stay busy to occupy my mind.  I find myself giving generic answers when people ask how I am feeling.  I just say that I am fine but tired and leave it at that.  What I want to say is that I am scared, mad, nervous and sad.  My excitement makes me nervous because I fear what could happen.  Part of me doesn't want to start feeling your brother.   To me, it means there could be a moment where I stop feeling him.  I find myself panicked at night as I lay in bed because, in the quiet of the night, I cannot ignore my fears. 

I know there are some people who will think I am ungrateful but I am not enjoying being pregnant this time.  I find myself anxious every day, wondering if I will lose your brother that day or the next.  I scrutinize every ache or pinch.  I fear exposure to everything as it could potentially cause me to lose him.  I just want to fast forward to the end and hold your brother as he cries his little heart out.  I want to kiss his pink cheeks and cry for the happiness and sadness we will face.  Even then, I know we will struggle.  Will he look like you?  How will he feel growing up knowing your story?  Will my heart ever feel whole again?

Thing is, I am grateful but also fearful.  Only those who have been in my shoes will understand.  I yearn for the naive person I was years ago, blissfully unaware of what I know now.  I know people mean well when they tell me everything will be okay but I cannot believe it until your brother is safe in my arms.  I know they have good intentions when they tell me to relax,  enjoy every moment and have faith but when you have a piece of your heart ripped out, it is not as easy as it seems. 

I see the excitement of your earthly siblings and I am terrified that they will have to say goodbye to another brother.  They have so much faith and strength that I find myself envious at times.  I wish it was that easy for me.  I find myself shutting down around newborns, especially boys.  I even get envious of pregnant women who have no worries, or at least seem to have very few. 
 
I hate the person I am sometimes but I have to be true to my feelings. If I continue to ignore them, they will consume me. I need to have my sad, angry and bitter moments. It is all just a part of the process. I hope and pray that I eventually see the light at the end of this very long journey. I see other loss moms getting their rainbow and even then I cannot find the strength to be okay, even just for a moment. My excitement is short lived and my fears are too strong.

Thank goodness for your Daddy and his calm, supportive nature. I know this isn't easy for him either and I wish I could be stronger for him but I cannot. I hope to find my strength again one day but right now it seems like an impossible goal.  And your Gigi has been right by my side while I ask a million questions about my fears and vent or run me to the doctor when I feel something isn't right.  I can only imagine how scary it is for her to see me go through this.  And, thank goodness for family and friends who never forget that our happiness is coming with a price.

I pray all the time for peace and to find a silver lining in all of this.  Maybe it is your unborn brother, maybe it is how much stronger my relationship with your Daddy is, maybe it is the compassion and love your siblings have experienced and show on a daily basis. I guess time will tell.  In the meantime, I am going to continue being an imperfect, broken mess because I cannot allow myself to ignore my heart.  It does not mean that I am not grieving properly or unstable, it just simply means I am a human, a mother, navigating this difficult and painful road while holding onto the beautiful blessings I have been given.  That is all I have the strength to do right now and I have to be okay with that. 

With unending love...
Mommy ♡

When Happiness Comes With a Price

**Trigger warning- rainbow pregnancy**

Loss can make you bitter.   It can make you question relationships, friendships and even who you are as a person.  It can bring negativity into every day of your life and eat away at the few moments of happiness that peek through.  It can make you feel isolated and feel like a failure.  In the beginning stages of grief, you just function at a lowest level possible because that is all you can do with the little strength you have. 

Holden was supposed to be our last baby. We had sold all the girl clothes that were no longer used.  We were stocked up on boy clothes and diapers.  We even got a little toddler bed for Boo Boo so Holden could have the crib.  I was mentally preparing myself for the next chapter of our life.  I had spent 7 years changing diapers, being pregnant, breastfeeding and toting around a diaper bag like a purse.  I was more than ready to be done after Holden.  He was supposed to be our forever baby.  We were gonna have our four beautiful children and live our happy, beautiful life.  That all changed on July 7th.  As I held Holden's lifeless body, my dreams were crushed.  I felt like I failed my family, like I couldn't give them the perfect life they deserved.  My mind was my worst enemy and my heart wasn't strong enough to fight it.  I had never felt or seen such pain.  I heard my oldest tell me she wanted to die to be with her brother.  I saw my traumatized  father, who is fighting his own battles, hold his grandson who shared his name.  I saw my Mom try to be the one to keep it all together while her heart shattered.  I saw the love of my life crumble as he held his beautiful son.  I was a zombie, floating through life trying not to drown. I was a broken version of who I once was, a false representation of who I truly was.  I had to be strong for my family but I didn't have the strength.   I went into survival mode, blocking all triggers the best I could.  I struggled seeing pregnant women and seeing pictures of newborns, especially boys.  Going to the clinic made my heart race.  Walking back into the hospital made me feel weak.  Going out into public made me panic inside.  If I could have went into hiding, I would have. 

Honestly,  I hate this life.  I hate that I had no choice.  I hate that my son's ashes sit in our living room when he should be in my arms right now.  I hate that my whole view of life has been turned upside down and I can never go back to who I was.  I hate that I cannot be as honest as I want to be.  I fight an internal battle everyday and very few know that I do.  Every time I see a baby my heart breaks a little bit more.  I hate that I am this person now.  A person who has to be three steps ahead in case a trigger comes my way or I am asked how many children I have.  This is the price we have paid for the blessing within me.

Sure, I am happy to be pregnant again but this time is different.  I didn't get all excited and jump around when that test went positive.  I went into shock and started to hyperventilate knowing I could lose another baby.  I could very easily have as many babies in Heaven as I did on Earth.  That is a very sobering thought.  I awake each morning scrutinizing every pain, every cramp.  Everyday, I ask myself 'is this the day I am gonna lose my baby?'  A few weeks ago, I was spotting.  Yesterday, I couldn't find the heartbeat.   I went numb both times.  I went into survival mode.  I mentally prepared myself for another loss.  I just assume it will happen because I don't want to build myself up on false hope. This is the life of a mother carrying a rainbow.  It isn't as joyous as one would think.  I cringe when I hear 'congratulations' because it wouldn't be said if my son were alive.  I am told to have faith and that everything will be fine but until you are in my shoes, you will never understand how hard it is to believe that.  My heart is reluctantly opening up to this baby.  It is still fragile and I ache for my son.  If anything,  this pregnancy has made me miss him more.   But, I am slowly realizing the beauty that has been placed in our lives.  We will get there one step at a time.  Am I angry? You bet!  Am I sad? More than ever!  Am I happy? Yes, but that happiness came with a price, a price no parent should ever have to pay....

Why We Didn't Wait

**Trigger warning- rainbow pregnancy**

I know there is a stigma with announcing a pregnancy early, long before the "safety" of the 12 week mark.  It is well documented that the chance of loss significantly decreases after the 1st trimester.  However, I have learned that loss can occur at any time no matter how cautious you may be.  I do not want this post to be seen as a scare tactic, that is not my intention.  I want it to merely explain why we decided to go against the societal norm and put our news out into the universe just a few weeks into our journey.

I certainly have my reasons for announcing early.  The main reason being that I have no safe zone.  I lost a baby at the beginning and I have lost a baby at the end.  The 12 week mark means nothing to me anymore.  I struggle with feeling safe with my own body.  I have oftentimes lost trust that I will hold a live baby again, my baby.  I have learned that we are not guaranteed happy endings and life is so very precious regardless of how short it is. 

I am terrified..and sad...and excited...and emotionally exhausted.  Deciding to try again has taken every ounce of my strength.  I have had to learn to love my body again and not hate it for what has happened.  I have had to deal with the guilt of wanting another baby.  I have had to face my grief and find a way to function with it as a part of my life.  I have had multiple blood draws, weaned off medications and had a couple visits with my OB to make a plan for before pregnancy, during pregnancy and birth.  We didn't just get pregnant and that was it, this baby has been in production for a while now.

Time is not on my side.  I could not wait years, that was not an option.  The path to get to this point has been exhausting.  I truly do not have the energy to keep it a secret because, honestly, I am scared.  I am putting myself on a path that led me to where I was just 8 months ago.  I had to dig deep and find a piece of my heart that was ready to move forward.  This beautiful blessing comes with a lot of baggage...baggage that we are more than willing to carry but it will be a long, complicated journey.  In the end, we hope to have a different outcome but we know all too well how things can sometimes turn out.

We believe in prayer.  Our faith has carried us through some of our darkest moments.  I have seen the power of faith and truly believe that prayer and positive energy can carry us through.   Who better to announce to than the family, friends and community who wrapped us so lovingly in their arms 8 months ago.  We have found peace through this love and we need it now as we start down this path. 

This journey will not be easy, it has already been very difficult, far more stressful than I thought it would be.  We are opening our fragile hearts and hoping that this time, we get a happy ending.  This pregnancy has also brought a lot of guilt.  I struggle with wishing it was Holden inside of me but I truly love this baby with all my heart.  I feel guilty that my boys were not enough.  I feel guilty that I may put my family through heartache again. I feel guilty that I have been given another chance.  I feel guilty that I cry more out of sadness than happiness this time.   I no longer have the luxury of being naive and only focus on the good because I have an intimate relationship with the bad.  This is me...this is my life...this is my story...this is my next chapter.  It is a hard read but it is my life...our life.  I know you will stick around for the end...you already read most of the chapters ♡

The Ugly Side of Baby Loss

I know.  I know.  You are wondering why I would even write about the ugly side of baby loss because is there even a good side to compare it to?  My answer is yes, yes there is.  We all have seen the good side because it is the side we pay most attention to.  The hopeful prayers of a heavenly reunion one day.  The silver lining and all the goodness that comes out of people after a loss.  The beauty of cherishing life more than ever before.  The constant chatter about guardian angels and how our little ones are watching over us now.  The smiles we give when we hear our little one's name.  These moments are only a fraction of our lives as bereaved parents.  They are truth but also used as a way to soften the harshness of our reality.  In a way, they are survival mechanisms.   Without hope, we would be consumed by fear.  Without dreams, our nightmare would become too real. 

I see the faces of some people when I talk about my grief. I see their eyes glaze over as they begin to fidget from the discomfort of the subject.  We live in a world where tragedy has a shelf life and we are expected to 'move on'.  It is society's survival mode as we don't like to be reminded of our mortality, especially when a baby is involved.  The truth of our life is far too much to bear, for some.  We live others' worst fears and yet we are not allowed to be as open about it as we should.  "It makes me sad."  "I can't even think about it."  "I can't take on your pain along with mine."  I admit, before I became a "loss mom", the thought of baby loss made me run in the other direction.  I would slump away when I heard talk of loss.  It made me incredibly sad, so incredibly sad.  Now, as I sit on the other side of the fence, I see that was wrong of me.   I apologize to all the loss moms who did not have me by their side as I should have been.  I should have been there just to hold your hand, let you vent or just give you a hug when you needed it most.  I should have pushed my own fears and pain aside and realized that your pain was not so easily forgotten. Now that I wear your shoes, I know how incredibly isolating loss can be. In our society, grief and depression can be viewed as a weakness.  I am here to tell you that it is the strongest of souls who have to face tragedy.  It takes incredible strength to peel yourself out of bed everyday knowing that your life is forever changed and there is absolutely nothing you can do to bring your loved one back.  Every day, I awake hoping that my reality has changed and yet it does not.   I look upon my son's urn every morning wishing I was getting him dressed or nursing him or kissing his fat cheeks.  This is my life...a life that can feel as if the weight may crush me.  I am facing fears I never knew existed.   I am mad that I have to live this life.  I am mad that I even have to consider another pregnancy.  I was ready to be done and move on to the next chapter of my life.  I am mad that my dreams were ripped from my heart, my womb, my arms.  I am mad that my thoughts are consumed by my loss.  I am mad that I have to force my smiles now when they came so easily before.  This is my ugly side.  Love it or hate it, this is me now.  I try to hide it as if it were a secret but I feel it take on a life of its own every time I subdue it.  There is no one telling me to stay quiet, I do that on my own.  I ask myself why...is it because I cannot handle the truth?  Am I afraid of letting others see me at my weakest since they all think I am so strong?  Thing is, I don't want to see them slump away or fidget or stare at me blankly waiting for me to be done.  I know it sounds harsh.  I know I may offend some but this is the truth, the ugly truth.  It is a truth you will never see until you are in my shoes or the shoes of anyone else who has lost their dreams.  I know I am blessed to have such amazing support but it is always said that support wears out over time.  Life moves on even when your heart does not.  My heart is still stuck at 7 months ago.  My heart remembers every day.  My memories are more and more vivid and more painful.  I cannot 'move on' completely.   Part of me will always be stuck in the past because a little part of me died with my boys. 

I am not looking for sympathy, I am looking for awareness.  Awareness that there are so many who carry their pain silently.  They float through life without ever showing their truth.  They hurt, they pine, they cry, they wonder, they ask 'why me?'

This Valentines Day will be 3 years since we learned that Ricky's heart stopped beating.  The 22nd will mark 3 years from when he left his earthly home and joined the angels.  His short life on earth began my journey as a bereaved mother and he opened my eyes to a life that is feared by many.  This month,  I ask you to do one thing.  If you know someone who has experienced any type of loss, reach out to them.  Send them a card, call them, hug them, tell them 'I am here for you'.  Remind each other that we are not alone in this world, our loved ones are still thought of, us survivors are still thought of.  We need to take care of each other, be reminded of the beauty of the human soul in a world that can seem so ugly at times.  Your pain is my pain.  When you are weak, I will give you strength.   I am here for you...

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.