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...

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Those moments.

Have you ever had those moments when there's just someone missing. You know if they were there they would love what you were doing. If they were there the moment would feel perfect. You want so bad to call them up and invite them, but you can't. You can't invite them or share the experience with them because they've died.

Last night was one of those moments.

We had a couple hours of opportunity open to go on the boat. The weather was perfect and it was a weekday so the lakes would be quiet. We packed up and headed out as quickly as possible so we could collect as much sunlight as possible. This was vivianna's first ride on the ski boat.

That's when it all came rushing it. It's like a whole football team charging you at once. You can see what's coming and put on your padding to cushion the hits but when you do get tackled it hurts worse than you thought. Almost like you shouldn't have bothered with the pads, they didn't help!

Vivianna's first boat ride…Sam never had a first boat ride. Another dream shattered and torn from me.

Damn it! I wish he was here. I wish he never had to leave me.

Sam, were you there? Were you with us?

On our way home we saw this beautiful sunset filled with so many colors. I asked Michalina what she thought of Sam's beautiful work. Her response, shouting to the heavens, "Thanks Sam for the beautiful sunset!"

Lucas and I well up with tears.

With the sunlight reaching through the tiny crevasses the clouds left, I ask her, "Do you know what those are? Those are the angels singing."

She remains in the intense stare at the sunset and reveals the most content, happy, proud smile.

I will never forget that smile it was as if Sam reached out and hugged her. She was immediately connected to him.

Those moments when someone's missing and he reaches out and fills your heart with love.

Saturday, August 18, 2012

Time and memories

Ever feel extra attached to your rainbow for fear that it might be your last day together?

Today is one of those days for me.

Yea, I am that freak of a BLM that constantly checks to see if her baby is breathing, kisses and tells her baby "I love you" every hour, and protects her with every thing I have. But this time around in motherhood I don't care what people think about that.

Today it's worse. I find myself staring at her to burn her sweet face into my memory. I'm trying to recall every moment today to retrieve for my "happy" memories later. Begging for the moment to never end.

To know what it's like to loose a baby is gut wrenching but allow it to play out in your living children is disturbing. I hate that I think this way but I'm afraid if I don't I'm going to take my girls for granted.

I don't want to die with regrets.
My family is my world.

Holding moments and memories close to my heart and clinging to hope.

Saturday, August 11, 2012


I'm not sure I know where to begin. I've thought about this post for weeks. How I'm going to tell my fellow bloggers what it's like to birth s rainbow and the emotions that come with it, but I've delayed. Partially intentional and partly not.

I just have yet to sort through these emotions. I don't even know where to begin. I almost feel like I'm in those early stages of grief again. Those days I felt twenty emotions all at once. I live day to day knowing and feeling incomplete while gazing I to the eyes of joy. I can't look at Vivianna with out thinking how happy she has made me…us. But I also see my son. This doesn't make me sad it just makes me think. If that makes any sense. She is here because he is not.

I listen to the random Michalina-ism's and my heart melts. Today she told the lady I've become close with at Sam's park, "look isn't she the cutest alive baby ever?"
Why does she have to live this life. The life of a selected four year old to have held her dead brother. The life of a big sister that has to visit a mausoleum to "see" her brother.

I look at her interacting with V and see a family missing one. We will always be incomplete. I will always be missing my little boy.
A life I still wouldn't trade. A life touched by my angel boy.