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.

Just when I thought...

Just when I thought I was through this part of grief, it hit me like a ton of bricks tonight. Strangers no nothing of Sam's existence.

Tonight I had Mom's Night at Michalin's preschool. We had a blast! She was so excited to show me all the work she does throughout the day. Moving from on thing to the other. Hopping all over the place in excitment.

As I sit there and watch her in her glory and glomming with pride, I sit there wanting to scream. I scan the room and begin to notice the mom's. The mom's that are ready to pop with their newborn babies at any moment. The mom's that are proud to put their bellies out there for all to see. The mom's with their preschooler's sibling in tow. The mom's juggling the unmanageable time between their preschooler and toddler that is starving for mommy's attention.

I try to remain focused on the reason I am there. Michalina. She needs a mom that is inthralled with all that she is doing. A mom that is free of grief. A mom that is free from the pain.

I struggle to give that to her. Even when I know it is what she deserves. My mind wanders. My heart begins to slowly crumble.

I desperately want to inform each and every one of those moms, Michalina is not my only child. I have a son in heaven. He was born in May. If he were alive he would be here too. 


I sit there in silence. Struggling to maintain focus on the sunshine in my world. She looks at me with innocent eyes, eyes that are suffering too. But she doesn't know it. She is unaware of the difference between her friends younger siblings and hers. Unaware that most babies don't live in heaven. Unaware that she has an angel next to her.

Why do I continue to feel the need to prove Sam's existence. To strangers. What do they care about my tragic loss? Would they care? Should they care? Do I look as different as I feel? Can a stranger see my pain? I want them to see. I want them to know. I had a baby boy and he was born May 9, 2011. Michalina has a brother.

Her kind soul strikes again

Yep, she's done it again. Last week Michalina had a dentist appointment on a very WINDY Wednesday. Excited as she was to see the salt water fish in the waiting room she was even more excited to see the dentist, Dr. Scott. Just like any dentist he makes conversation with the patient that can't always respond because the have a mouth full of hand.

As Michalina does with anyone when she is super excited she was running her mouth and couldn't stop talking. So, whenever she got the opportunity to talk with out a hand or tool in her mouth she was talking-about everything. She shows him her "Sam bracelet" and tells him, "I have a baby brother named Sam. Yeah. He's in heaven." Low and behold he replies with, "I have a baby in heaven too. Do you think they might be friends?" Michalina doesn't respond. I guess because she doesn't get that response often so she was caught off guard because believe me she always has something to say.

The conversation then turns to me. He tells me what a wonderful idea it is to have that for her and where I got it. I'm sure at this point my eyes where lighting up. It's not everyday you come across people in our community. I eagerly tell him about the bracelet and  how my husband made it for her at Faith's Lodge and what a wonderful place it is for parents like us.

Fast forward to the end of the great check up...

Every good kid gets a prize. So which one does my daughter pick for the extremely windy day? The balloon! A purple one, of course.

The purple balloon makes it to the car and is good company until...she tells me she wants to, "-send it to heaven for Meleah."

Side note and background: Meleah is another angel I have met on this grief journey. Meleah's parents have become close friends of ours. In fact Meleah and Sam share the same "park"; Meleah in the cemetery and Sam in the mausoleum. We pass by Meleah every time we come and go from Sam's park. You can read about Meleah's mom here at here blog.

Back to the balloon.

I tell her we need to let it go at home so it can escape the trees and power lines. We make it home and she can barely wait to send a balloon to heaven for Meleah. 

The pink flower and butterfly are also from Michalina to Meleah. She picked them out while shopping for Sam's Easter decorations. 

Such a compassionate soul at only 4! She never ceases to amaze me. The compassion and love this small child has gained since holding her still brother. Nothing I ever want her or any of my other future children to experience. She has not only gain a brother she has gained a compassionate soul. 

Compassion

I  have a story that I have to tell. It just happened about fifteen minutes ago, but it is so precious that it can't wait.

Totally unprompted. Seriously. Unprompted.

We were at Oberweis (a local Ice Cream Parlor) Michalina got a purple (her favorite color) balloon from the guy at the counter. She was all excited to get a balloon first of all, since I told her she doesn't need to have a balloon. So needless to say, her eyes lit up when he handed her the purple balloon.

We sat there and eat our ice cream. When we were done we headed home with the balloon in tow. Well, in the car on the way home Michalina melted our hearts...literately. Out of no where, she says that she wants to let the balloon go for Melinda's babies in heaven. She said that she would let it go and give it to the babies so they can have a balloon just like Sam.

So that is just what she did. We got home and she hopped out of the car and moseyed onto the driveway and proudly let the balloon go for "God to catch and give to Melinda's babies".

We just about melted into our seats. Listening to a 3 1/2 year old talk about how she wanted to give her balloon to a stranger's babies in heaven is just about the most compassionate thing I have heard in a long time. The death of her brother has made my little girl into the most compassionate three year old I know.

So, Melinda, your babies have a balloon in heaven from my daughter. She said it is just for the girls, she is going to make another balloon for the boys to have later. Yes, those were her words.

I guess Sam's promise lives through his big sister too.

The life

I sit here in the pick up line watching Michalina play on the playground soaking in the life I wish I had. Funny how there is always a life you wished you lived; someone else's way of life. I wish that I was in this line as the last one because I was running late at home trying to get Sam fed before we left. I wish that I was sitting here feeling finally relived from the stress of a hungry crying baby by a now happily sleeping Sam in his carrier just behind my seat. I wish that this was my day routine; drop Michalina off at preschool, run about my daily errands with my 7 (almost 8) month old, pick her up and bathe them with love for the rest of the day.

But, it's not. It's not my life. It will never be my life. It's one thing to envy someone because they have a wanted job; but it's another when your missing your baby from the picture, the job description changes.

I have to admit, I am still in shock that this is my life; my family's life. I never imagined my daughter blowing kisses to the sky for her little brother to catch. I never imagined fitting in Sam's Park time into my free time. Shock. I have to live in fear for any future children I may have. What kind of a fucked up life is that? My life. My husband's life. My daughter's life. And there is nothing any one or anything can do to change that. Shock.

When I was at Faith's Lodge and we were having our group session, the psychologist said something that I never thought was me. I am a victim of post traumatic stress. Sam's death is a traumatic event in our lives. We entered that hospital with one outcome in our minds and were given the complete opposite! Trauma. People don't bounce back from trauma, so stop judging our grief people. There are still Vietnam Vets who are fucked up from the shit they saw and experienced. People set up funds and cushion those victims with a down pillow. But when a parent chooses to handle their baby's death a certain way they are judged. Now, I 'm on a tangent. Sorry. I shouldn't care what people think of my grief. Ha! Easier said than done.

Torture

I constantly feel like I am living in a prison of grief. The longer I stay here the more comfortable I am feeling living in this state. I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing, healthy or not. No matter how you look at it, it sucks. I know I am constantly trying to describe how life is for me and my family or I'm struggling to find the words to paint a picture for the outside world to see what and how these emotions feel and effect my life. But...I'm going to do it again. I can't help but think that the pain, the physical pain, a mother suffers after loosing a child can only be compared to the most God awful, slow, and painful torture. Torture like the slowest death imaginable. It's horrible!!! I hate feeling like this, but in the same breath I feel like if I don't feel this way I am disconnected to my son. I wake every morning and think, "this is not fair". Why do I have to keep waking up? Why do I get to live? Living, feels so wrong. I am not saying that I am suicidal in any means, so please don't put me on your suicide watch list. If suicide was an option I wouldn't be talking about this. Do not worry that this would cross my mind.




Michalina has been talking more with Sam. She involves him in her conversations more. It is so cute...and heartbreaking! I love my daughter more than anything; Michalina going to school is a daily confirmation that my baby girl is growing up. Which of course, puts me further from protecting her. You see, when you loose a child you hold the living child that much closer. I don't believe I am becoming overbaring, but I am making sure I do what I can to keep her out of harms way. Selfish? I don't care.

Random Thoughts

So, over the past week or so I have had some random thoughts that have crossed my mind I thought I would share with my trustee bloggers and followers...


Michalina has said some things that I think are either incredibly intelligent for a 3 year old or they are incredibly cute and need to be noted. So, with that said I will try to write them down and share them with you all.

Michalina-ism #1: "I know, we can hold hands and bounce up to heaven and catch Sam; but, first we have to get some bouncy shoes."


I have been contemplating what is worse...keeping Sam's bedroom door closed or leaving it open. The way I am seeing it this week is, wither way I am filled with a tremendous amount of sadness. With his door closed I am constantly looking at a closed door that should be open and filled with the smell of a new baby. The closed door is a reminder of broken dreams and hopes for a future with my baby boy. Seeing it closed is comparable to a smack in the face. Kinda like someone is laughing at me and my sadness
Now the door open can bring a smile to my face and tears to my eyes-all at the same time none the less. The door open makes me smile in remembrance of my sweet Sam. In some weird, twisted way an open door keeps his presence real. On the flip side, the door open brings me tears for the same reasons it is closed. Open, leaves me staring at an empty room that should be filled with baby laughter and smell of baby lotion. Instead I see clothes that were ransacked when we were trying to decide what to burying Sam in, full boxes of diapers, an empty crib, and a framed picture of Sam's hand and footprints in the place he should be sound asleep waiting for a new day. 
For now, the doors remains closed, same as it has for 4 months and 4 days. His room still remains with hurt to tender to touch.




Word to the wise...Do not tell a mother that has just lost her baby that she looks good. This is not a compliment only diarrhea of the mouth from people that have never lost a child after giving birth. Compliments are hard to find for someone that has just lost their child; not much can be taken as a compliment. The only compliment worth giving a grieving mother should be about how they are honoring their child's legacy. Nothing else matters, at least to me.




Taking Michalina to preschool for her first day was not what I ever dreamed it to be. I always thought it would have ben different. I managed to have joy for her; however, sorrow for the "should haves". Once again, it was a reminder of broken hopes and dreams for the future. Preschool is another milestone I will never experience with Sam and Michalina experiences it alone. My baby girl is growing up, she is becoming more independent. If anyone knows Michalina, they know that she is 3 going on 16; preschool has just confirmed that. Sad because my little girl is growing up and sad because her brother is not here to share her experience. 


October 15th is coming up. This is a day that has been marked Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. On this day there will be a balloon release donated by the Sweet Pea Project in South Elgin at Footprints Memorial Park (corner of rt. 31 and state st.). The balloons are biodegradable and filled with seeds in hopes that a plant will be born in remembrance of your baby/child. If you have any questions about the release please email me. All are welcome to attend the release.




Another Illuminate opportunity came to our class, even though we have been long done with the class. Beryl Young, the women behind the Illuminate movement, was contacted by the author of Baby Dust for some pictures for her book trailer. This trailer is just like a movie trailer only for a book. The book is a novel based on five women's story of baby loss; either still birth or miscarriage. The book is due out this fall. Take a look at the trailer; all of the pictures are from ladies in my Illuminate class. Sam and I are featured at the end of the trailer. Please feel free to share this with every one you know-I am a proud parent of an angel! 
Click here----> Baby Dust Book Trailer

Michalina's First Day of Preschool