Michalina-ism 7

In the car last night on our way home from gymnastics and she is having a conversation with me about a boy at school and how he has a bunk bed (she is mildly obsessed with bunk beds after having a sleep over with her cousins Angelica and Gabby). For what ever reason she switches her conversation to Sam and her is what she said...
"-you won't have to cry" "-I will bring Sam down with my hands" Sam will sleep in my bed." 

Of course, I well up with tears. She recognizes this and says, "Mommy are you crying?" I told her, "No, I'm okay." I don't want her to think that every time she brings up Sam that I will cry. I tried to reassure her that I would do anything to bring her brother back so she could do those things with him.
Michalina is my guiding light in this storm, without her I don't know where I would be.

Michalina-ism 6

Again this weekend I was at Sam's park and she could tell that I was upset and missing her brother.                                                                She turns to me and says very compassionately, "I wish I could hold him and make his body work."

I have to edit the post and add Michalina-ism 6.5. It's a half because I can't exactly quote her. The same day as Michalina-ism 6 she mentioned something else that I had forgotten about until driving past a dark cemetery last night. It reminded me of this one...

Michalina mentioned something about sleeping at the mausoleum with Sam. I must have replied with a "we can't" or a "how" because her next phrase was this-"yes, we can just bring sleeping bags."

Funny, because I have thought about doing this many of times. I have even thought about talking with the Windridge office about doing just that- having a sleepover. 

Maybe some day I will get my sleepover with my baby.

That's my boy...

 I was at Sam’s Park the other night and it was freezing. Cold, I mean 57 degrees out and windy as all hell; that’s probably why the 57 degrees felt so cold. I know those of you from the Midwest are thinking 57 degrees is warm. This is not true when you have just gotten out of a mid October week that was reaching temperatures of 80+. That’s right, we went from 85 to 57 in about a day’s time. Got to love Midwest weather.

So, anyways, I was at Sam’s Park, it was about 6:00 and the sun was setting. Michalina was playing around, as usual, while I had my time with Sam. All of a sudden she says, “Mommy, look it’s a butterfly!” I thought to my self “yea, right. Not in this weather-”

Well low and behold there she was, clinging to a bush right across from Sam’s wall. She stayed there the whole time we were there. She let me take a million pictures and even opened her wings twice. Other than that, she just hung on for dear life in the cold wind. I don’t know why she was there at that particular moment or night. But she gave me the reminder that my son is okay.

Thank you Sam for my little message. I love you baby boy.

MISS

I had another MISS Foundation support group meeting last night and I left feeling weird. I don't know exactly what that means, but this is how it all went down. 


I was able to, for the first time, get through my story without crying. I think it might have been because I have a short and condensed version since we had three new people there with us. I left and still did not cry. This sort of bothers me. 


Lately, I have felt so numb that there is nothing that could rock me. Yeah, I may get teary eyes about something. But for the most part I feel like I could get beaten by a mob and not feel a thing. This scares me. I feel disconnected from my feelings and from Sam. I should cry, crying keeps me in a reality check. I know, I know some of you are thinking, it's okay to not cry. For me it's not. This puts me in a place of anger and disconnect. 


I am feeling that I am on the outside looking in at this poor girl who gave birth to her son who never took a breath outside of her womb. I feel sorry for this girl and wish she didn't have to live a life like this; a life filled with mausoleum visits and a constant need to honor her son that few have met. This girl is someone who is lost in a world of loss and grieving. A girl who will always live a life filled with "what if's". A girl who is forever changed by an angel she never got to tell him she loves him. A girl who would give her life to bring her son back.  That girl that I watch everyday is me walking in a life that I never thought I would live or try to live.






Maybe these feelings of numbness are a result of the much anticipated family gathering tomorrow. It will be the first gathering that I am attending with my husband's family. It would be such a big deal if a cousin did have a baby boy one month after me. The only difference is she got to bring her baby home and lay him in a crib, I got to lay mine in a crypt. I don't know why, but it bothers me. Of course, this is no fault of her, but it is the unintentional slap in the face that I don't have my son in my arms. Just thinking about the baby noises he will make or the crying he will let out makes me sick to my stomach because those are the sounds that I miss and yearn for sooo badly. Silence haunts me. It is not the kind of silence like you may think. Silence to me is something so much more. Silence to me is not hearing my Sam cry or make those cute little grunting noises that infants do. Hearing another baby do that in place of mine is earth shattering and crippling. It immediately puts me back to May 9, 2011, in a delivery room filled only with silent tears as my son slipped into this world only to have never entered it. It puts me in the silent delivery room where a hopeful 3 year old enters only to be told her brother is an angel. 
It's the sound that haunts me...




Okay, with Saturday in mind I would like all of my fellow blog followers to join me in National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day and honor Sam by lighting a candle. I will be taking part in a balloon release in South Elgin given by the MISS Foundation and the Sweet Pea Project. Should you participate in remembering all of the babies lost to the unknowns of Stillbirth, please take a picture and send it to me. I would love to make a collage of the candle pictures that you guys send. For me it would be a reminder that Sam's birth has not gone unnoticed and he continues to make in impact on this secret society of Babyloss.


Never forget our babies that were born angels...

Grab a facebook button in honor of October 15th...

Exhaustion

I never realized how physically exhausting it is to live. You see since loosing Sam, I have fought to live each day of my life. For the past five months I have thought about what it would be like with him here and acknowledge how my life has changed since he was born. These are thoughts that are constantly running through my head. I could be having a conversation with someone and they have no clue as to what my brain is really processing. In this effort to conform to "normalcy" I have let my guard down and put myself in a situation that I wasn't in a state of mind to do. This weekend I attended a festival that was great for regular people, but not for me. I was surrounded by friends and families with smiles on their faces having a wonderful day enjoying each others company. Not to mention the babies in my face all day and the happy families. Let me clear one thing up, it is not so much the babies and pregnant women that tear me apart but it's the happy families that just make me feel like the unexplainable. Don't get me wrong I cringe when I hear a baby cry or make those cute little baby noises; but happy families, Ugh! 


Needless to say, I did something that I wasn't ready for that day. Since my grief likes to take the route of a spinning spiral, I can change at any moment. For the past couple of days all I have wanted to do is curl up next to Sam's wall and veg out for hours on end. Then life gets in the way and I do things to please others instead of respecting my emotions at the moment. I am realizing again, that just because I have a daughter and it has been 5 months since I lost Sam, does not mean that I head into a "normal" life. I need to do what is right for me and my family.


Back to my exhaustion. I know many of you will shake your head in agreement when I say that grief is physically exhausting, while others will do the same out of false empathy. There are moments in my days where I feel that I am literally trying to catch my breath or hold my eyes open. This is in no means because I am over exerting myself physically throughout the day, it is because I am so emotional drained. I wonder how long this will last? Then again, I don't want it to stop. I feel like stopping the pain that I feel for loosing Sam is a reminder of it's reality; a reminder that he existed. I know, I know, I won't ever forget my son; but, being happy, to me, feels like I have started a new chapter. For those of you that don't know me, I do not like to settle. And, being content in my life without my son feels like settling. It brings me back to my post about "acceptance". It is not okay that my son died, and it is not okay that people will forget him and forget my family's grief.


I will forever be missing my baby and I will forever be grieving. I will not heal I will only manage to live knowing I am one day closer to being with my baby boy. So, please, spare me the speech and let me grieve. 

Michalina-ism #5

Michalina drew a picture of her and I and this is what she said. "This is up and this is me. You are happy and I am sad." 
Hmm, that's kinda odd that she is the sad one, so , I reply, "Why are you sad?"
"-because I wish I could go to heaven."

Michalina-ism's 2, 3, and 4

This was all on the way home tonight...


# 2: "How do we get to Heaven? I know we can hope on each cloud." I asked her how many clouds would it take to get there and she replies with, " four."


# 3: "I wish I could go to Heaven."


#4: "God will give us angel wings."

Been a while...

I realize it has been a while since I have posted. So here goes my two cents...
It has been weighing on me lately, the statement people tell you when they see the look of grief on your face-"you are in my prayers". Really? 


I see this as another one of those, "how are you doing?" questions. People really don't care "how you are doing" they just are trying to be polite. Complete strangers even ask the "how are you doing" question. It is just a blanket phrases that is overused and never an intentional question but more of a natural reaction to someones initial presence. If people really meant what they said they would be prepared to hear the truth when they ask "how are you?" 

"I'm shitty. This has been another day from hell. Each day is another reminder that my life is forever changed because I have to figure out how to live without my son. I have to figure out how to raise my daughter without her brother. I have to live with triggers that seem to stalk me where ever I go. I have no choice but to be a member of a group that no one wants to be a part of. I am forced to renew my membership at the price of the most painful cost. I am a mother to an angel. So you ask, 'how am I doing?' I've had better days. I remember what it was like to live a life of innocence and naiveness. I too, used to ask, 'how are you' with out really caring what the answer might actually be. So, tell me, now do you still care to ask how I'm doing?"


So here goes my soap box speech on "your in my prayer" statement. 


If I actually had everyone who says they are praying for me, I think I might have actually had some answered prayers by now. Right? I mean it only sounds logical. Thinking back I probably have at least 1 person every two days say this to me. That is a lot of frickin' people praying  for me. If all of these people mention me and my sorrows to the same God that has my son with him, you would think I would get a little something. Nope. I feel like I have only fallen in to a valley, I change that to a gorge, that is impossible to emerge from. My faith has been rocked so hard that I am unsure this same God that allowed my son to die, is the same God that loves me...and this coming from what used to be a very strong faith person. 


Pray for me. I've said it a million times to people. Do people actually do it? Or is it another one of those statements that is said to people when there is nothing more to offer them? If they were praying like they said they were, wouldn't I have -for lack of better words- better results. I suppose this is another one of those moments were someone will chime in and say, some prayers are meant to be unanswered and it is God's plan. I know, I know. I am learning that I have no control over anything. If that's true, I can't help but feel like a puppet and question free will. Is free will only given for opportunity's to screw up? Alright, I know now I am getting a little to philosophical and deep for some of you readers. But, this is what goes through my mind. 


Pray for my family. Pray for us to be reassured that our little boy is safe in the arms of his creator. Pray honest prayers. Pray for honesty. 


Mean what you say and think about what kind of answer you really would like to hear when you ask someone, "How are you?" and if you are going to tell someone that you are going to pray for them, do it, because they might actually need it. Prayers could be all that is left.