Sam is an angel that was brought into my life. Here is our journey back home...

Sam is an angel that was brought into my life. Here is our journey back home...

Sunday, August 28, 2011


Today was the day that I turned the corner in the mausoleum and saw it. I saw mine and Lucas’ name on the wall. Initially my heart dropped, then immediately following, my eyes welled up with tears of happiness. I never thought I would be excited and happy to see my name on my crypt before I needed it. However, when you bury your own child, I think things change. This was something I always said I would never do. That is why it took a little bit before we went into the cemetery office to make the request and pay for it. Now I am glad we made the decision. We wanted our names up so that Sam wasn’t alone, even if ours are empty, our names are right next to his. His name no longer seem to be alone amongst a bunch of strangers; his name is accompanied by his mommy and daddy’s.  I know this may sound strange or weird to many people; but I know many bereaved parents would eel the same as me and smile when they see their crypt next to their child. I now know that I will be with my baby again.
I am filled with peace and happiness now that it is official my baby doesn’t have to be alone, even if it is just my name on the wall. For what ever reason it was this brought tears of happiness and a smile to my face.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Dear Readers...

Please take a moment to read my new tab, "DEAR READERS". I felt it was necessary to give all of my readers a little disclaimer. I think you guys should be forewarned about the raw emotions you will, or have read in my posts.

Knocked Down Again

 I am sitting here at Michalina’s gymnastics…now with tears in my eyes.
It’s ironic how the babyloss mother gets stuck sitting in the viewing area with 2 newborn babies! Of course the viewing room is empty-except the babies and their HAPPY, BLISSFUL moms! It makes me want to fucking SCREAM! Then to top it off someone approaches one of the mothers to oogle over the cute little baby and tell the mom how good she looks for just having a baby! I find cover and run. I can’t take it! Why is it that millions of moms get to live through ignorant bliss while others get to live through the worst pain imaginable. It is almost like someone is dangling Sam’s passing in my face and saying, “this is what you coulda had…”
I just feel trapped in a time frame that will not allow me to cross the line. Between my body doing weird shit and trying to figure out how to live my life with out my son, I feel like I am jumped by a massive, brutal gang every single day. Do you know what it’s like to try and get up after being beaten to a pulp? It’s one of the hardest things I have ever done…live, survive and I have to do that every day of my life.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011


Yesterday there were moments that made me crippled with sadness. I visited Sam’s park and was, for what ever reason, buckling at my knees with such a sadness that no one could know unless they have buried their child way too early. I look around at my world and think and feel how unfair the of hand I was dealt. It’s like God is using a trick deck and giving me the shitty cards. I know I am not the only one in the world that feels life is so unfair. However, think of it like this, my unfairness is more about my questions.
I once read an explanation for how a baby/child loss mother lives her life. The explanation was an analogy for winning a Golden Globe or an Emmy for best actress. I have been thinking a lot about this analogy and how true it is. Every day I see people look at me or talk to me like I’m “okay”. I am sure they see me as functioning and taking on tasks that were before Sam and think, “she’s doing okay”, “she’s not ‘grieving’ anymore, she must be done”. Ha! I am far from that! I am shattered inside just trying to keep my head above water. Have you ever wore a pair of pants that are waaayyyy too tight? All day long you are thinking about going home and ripping them off so you can finally breathe. You walk around work making it look like your are so comfortable and go about your daily task because you just can ‘t leave yet. Then, you get home and rip the pants off and can finally relax and be yourself and be comfortable. This is how I feel only I wear grief and pain all day long. I can’t let anyone know that I am so broken inside that my body is screaming with sadness. These kind of emotions make people uncomfortable. When people can’t identify with you, they are give hollowed empathy. They don’t know what to say to you and you don’t expect them to say anything to make you feel better.
I don’t know how long I will feel this way and I don’t know if I will ever feel any different. I will always be the elephant in the room. People will forget my sweet baby boy and I will forever be broken and missing my angel.
We have earned the Best Actress award by a force that was uncontrollable. We have been given this award because no one could ever imagine unless they have been there themselves. We have won this award because we have to belong to a society that cannot identify with the pain that fills us. The award is given to us in solitude and no one is giving a standing ovation.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

First Days...

Through this grieving journey I have had a lot of “first days” and there will be many more to come. I have had the first day I left the house; the first day I went to the mausoleum; first day back to places I was at when I still had Sam. I have anticipated this “first day”, what it would be like, what would people say or not say, how people would react to me, What I would say to people, or how I would act, what steps would I take to get through the day. I have heard a lot from other baby loss moms that sometimes the anticipation is more intense than actually living through a milestone. Today marks a milestone and a day that is equal to the anticipation; my first day back at work.
I am surrounded by a plethora of people that truly care and are extremely supportive. There are people who have been my guiding light through these times. I cannot begin to describe my gratitude for these people. I am lucky to be a part of a work community that is so loving and comforting through these times. I am comforted by their sincere out reach to support me. You all know who you are, thank you just isn’t enough but all I have to offer right now, so…Thank you form the depths of my heart.
Now comes the guilt. The guilt for grieving amongst my peers and my family. The guilt for feeling useless. The guilt for returning to something that was a life before Sam and go about a routine that seems empty. The guilt returning to something that was and leaving Sam at the way side. The guilt that I have towards him, this may sound stupid to some people; I don’t want him to think that I am forgetting about him.
Shame also follows me in my first day back to work. Shame that I am the one crying and not able to function. Shame that I couldn’t do something to change my circumstance. Shame that I lost my son. I know that I have nothing to be shameful of, but it is still an emotion that has crept up.
Today has brought on a whirlwind of emotions that are impossible to sort through. Remember a while back I listed a bunch of emotions that I feel in one day? Well, today, those came rushing on me in an instant. Every time I turned a corner there was a another emotion there waiting for me.
On the way home I saw a rain cloud in the foreground of a bright sun and a beautiful blue sky which reminded me of my day. Me and my grief are the rain cloud that appears amongst the beautiful blue sky. It sticks out like a sore thumb and lets tears sprinkle down then gets lost in the background and eventually doesn’t matter because it is only a small part of the enormous beautiful sky. As I drove all the “supposed to’s” knocked again. I should be driving home with a smile on my face because I am going home to see my kids again after a long day at work. Instead I open the door to be greeted by only one of my children. I am slapped in the face with no crying baby at home needing my immediate attention.
Failure, guilt, sadness, and pain have taunted me today as I have another "first". 

Friday, August 12, 2011

Someone Else...

Today was a day I wish I was someone else. Someone else besides a baby loss mama. Now, I am not saying I don't want Sam to be my son or have a different baby alive. One single, tenth of a second glimpse, of someone else's happiness of a newborn baby is all it took. I cannot describe the rush of emotions that come to take over my body when a trigger occurs. I sound like I am talking about drugs here. The emotions are overwhelming and controlling. Coming from a control freak, I have to admit these emotions put me powerless. There is one thing that I have been forced to learn after loosing Sam, I have control over nothing! This has been a hard pill to swallow. I don't believe I am equip to handle being who I am; but, I have no choice. I have been given this life and all of the hardships that come with it and there is not a person in the world that can change it or take it away.
Do I wish I was someone else, yes. I don't wish it was ever me that lost my baby. I want to be the one loving on my new baby boy. I want to be the one complaining how hard it is with two kids. I want to be the one taking those cute pictures of Michalina with her little brother. I want to be the one smiling when Michalina plays mommy to her brother. Call it jealousy, call it what you will. I call this love. A love that my son has left me with. I call this an aching desire to be with my ENTIRE family again.
I was always the person that said, "God will never give you more than you can handle." Ha, I laugh at this now. Who would have ever guessed that I would be the one that gets sucker punched in the gut? The cautious one that always took risks only to the point of comfort; I took them far enough, never too far. Who is equipped to bury their child? No one!
Other people's happiness brings sadness. A believer in God means the unthinkable happens; the ultimate test of faith. I don't know if I will pass the test.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

One Year From Now...

Well here is the last assignment for my photography class. I am truly sad that it is over.

I sit here in tears as I think about an entire year without Sam. A whole year, how can that be possible? One year makes me think of what he would be like. What would his first birthday party theme be? Would he be walking by his first birthday? What would his little voice sound like when his first word left his little lips? Tears...
I have to be honest, I can't think of my future, not even one day from now. I never really have been a person that could see themselves doing anything in the future. And now that Sam is gone, I am afraid to look into the future. I am afraid that it will be filled with other losses and pain. My husband always tells me that I pigeon hole my hopes and this is one aspect I don't want to do that with. I do hope my family grows in the future, in one year, I don't know. I hope that my future brings me a way to contribute to the babyloss community in a profound way. I hope that I am able to keep Sam's legacy alive. In one year...
Tomorrow and in the near future, I want to be sure that I am expressing my love for my family in a way that everlasting. Sam has given me the gift to love deeper, greater, and more intensely than I ever thought possible; I want to be sure that my husband and daughter know that love.
As this class draws to a close, I want to express my appreciation to Beryl for creating this class specifically for grieving mothers. I wished that this didn't have to end and we could some how get a year's worth of photo challenges to help with the grieving process. My photography is showing me something I never thought I was any good at and giving me the confidence to get in front of the camera myself.
Thank you Beryl and thank you ladies for your sincere honestly and trust. We got to figure out a way to get the first Illuminate class person. I would love to meet all of you. Thank you ladies!

Friday, August 5, 2011

Rough Day Strikes Again.

Today was rough. I hadn’t had a rough day in a while. I’ve had rough moments, but I always, somehow manage to regain my footing. Today the sadness has just kept close to me today. Just when I thought I was pulling out, sadness struck again today.
My darkness today started with a light. This light was so beautiful that it brought a smile to my face and warmth in my heart. However, that shining light was quickly followed by guilt. The guilt was so heavy that it was hard to breath. A friend created her status on facebook for a protest and remembrance of babyloss. This friend, to my knowledge, had not experienced babyloss expect for Sam. This public protest against the taboo of stillbirths/babyloss was so heart warming to me it brought guilt. (Now, I don’t want her to feel that she shouldn’t have done this because I feel the exact opposite-I couldn’t be more proud.) But there was guilt that swarmed around my head. The guilt filled me because I see it as because of me she had to fester that type of courage; she would have never have had to do that if it weren’t for me. I was informed that a few other people put this on their status and that makes me smile. Smile, because the shroud is slowly lifting from the faces of the babyloss community.
Then I get another baby announcement/baptism invite in the mail today. This is the second one from close family that I have gotten since Sam was born. I have to say it…are people really that stupid? It doesn’t bother Lucas like it bothers me. He sees it as just another announcement or invite. I, on the other hand, see it as a slap in the face that someone else got to walk out of the hospital with their head held high, a smile on the face, and joy and love overflowing their hearts. What did I get? I got to walk out of the hospital with a white box with a purple ribbon on it and my son’s hospital hat and blanket inside. I got to leave shattered and broken, ever to be pieced back together again; forever, broken and un-whole; always missing a piece of my life, my heart. I know that these people mean nothing by their efforts of sharing their joy. But, come on, seriously, think about how that might make a babyloss mother feel.
Third, I went to a mall that I was last at pregnant. I remember being there and thinking about Sam’s arrival; shopping with Michalina in tow. Raiding the Carters clearance rack for the cute little baby boy clothes, searching for the perfect outfit to bring Sam home in. Just being near the stores I was in months earlier were hard for me to swallow.
The sadness. It always manages to find it’s way back into my heart. Missing Sam today more than ever. I want to hold and feel his warm cheeks against mine. Sadness strikes as I prepare for work to come at me full swing. The normalcy makes me shiver with guilt. how am I supposed to go about living a “normal” or “before Sam” life knowing that my baby is gone. I type with tears streaming down my face and think a burrow seems like a great place to retire and never emerge again. I just want to hide and wait for Sam to come and get me.
Today, I ache. The darkness that lurks around the corner daily has filled my day. Sadness is not what it used to be. Sadness is so much more. There are no words that could describe what sadness is to a babyloss mom. Sadness is pain.

Here are a few pictures that we took on our Sam vacation. The book is something I read to Sam every time I visit him.