Time STILL Doesn't Stand Still.

Can I just say how much 11 months sucks! I was never one to be down and out on the 9th of every month. Yeah, I would think about what he would be doing as he got older but 9 and 11 months has kicked my ass. 9 months, I have no idea why this hit me hard. 11 months, yesterday, has been really hard!

I don't know if it was a culmination of things yesterday or if it was the fact that I can no longer count his absence in months. My friend Rachel just blogged about this a few short days ago. She mentioned the same thing about her little girl, Kayla. Sam will have been gone for more than a year as soon as the clock strikes 12 on May 9th. This hole in my heart seems to be never ending and growing larger in diameter.

11 months also marks some milestones in his life. I can't stop picturing him walking and babbling in conversation with his sister. I find myself trying so hard to fill this gaping hole. 11 months is making me realize this hole is never going to be filled. It is my storm cloud that will follow me for the rest of my life. Until I am able to hold my baby boy again. Nothing will take the place of where my son's memories, hopes, and dreams were supposed to be.

11 months. It's been hard to try to find the balance between honoring my husband and my son's birthday. Both on the 9th. I want to honor my husband, his life, and his own grief. On the other hand, I want to drown myself in my sorrows and honor my son by dedicating my time to him.
It's hard. I have always carried this guilt about Sam being born on my husband's birthday. I feel like I took his son from him on the only day that is to honor him. All he ever wanted was a son, and I gave birth to his dead son on his birthday...Now before any one starts telling me, there's nothing you could have done, I know that. I know that I couldn't control when I went into labor or when Sam died. But there is still guilt. Guilt that I have taken the one thing my husband wanted more than anything. Guilt that I had his son on his birthday only to say goodbye never to say welcome.

11 months. I have been living this life without my son and soon it will be 1 year. I want to so bad get over the first angelversary hill. And yet there is a part of me that wants to stay right here for the rest of my life, never to have to endure the 1 year marker.

11 months. Yeah, my grief has changed. Matured. Tumbled. Evolved. My grief journey has been a path I never thought I would take. 11 months have past in this new life yet I feel so stagnate. I am disappointed that in 11 months I have not better honored Sam's memory, Sam's life. I had/have plans to do so much for this community yet I allow stuff to get in the way. Hold me back. Sam deserve a better mother. 11 months of not doing the boxes for the hospital like I wanted. 11 months that I have not contacted the hospital to do more for moms like me. 11 months that I have not started his non-for-profit, Sam's Promise. 11 months I have not contacted my state government to get them to acknowledge my son's life.

11 months it too long. 1 day is too long. 1 second is too long. I still want my baby boy back.

Six Months and Three Weeks...

I sit here in awe at myself. I never thought I would make it to six months and three weeks. There is nothing significant about the date, just that it has been over six months since Sam passed away. I am not only in awe at this I am sickened by it at the same time. How could a mother live that long without seeing her baby, caring for her baby. Now I know, I'm not an idiot, I know that I can't do those things. But, seriously, think about it. What mother can do those things and still breathe everyday and wake every morning?

A mother who has buried her child.

I find myself most days so completely numb to the pain of not having Sam physically in my life that I often forget to live it. I currently can say my status is existing and I am not sure I am comfortable with it. I want to live each day for my son proving his existence and honoring his life.

But how?

I have so many ideas that I just don't know where to start. I have dreams of hosting a site where mother's of loss can visit and know that they will find comfort in Sam's Promise to never forget and never be forgotten. I want now more than anything.

What's the hold up...money!

Do you know that it is almost $800 to get a non-for-profit up and moving in IL? Pretty shitty when all you want to do is help.

Dreams of providing an array of information to parents that have just been stricken with the most horrifying news they will ever hear. I want to comfort them and make sure they know they are and never will be alone in this mess.

There will be more after us...

I am numb by the demands of life, to be a mother, wife, daughter, sister, granddaughter, teacher, and friend.

So many shoes to fill. The only one I am comfortable in most of the time is mother.

Mother to an Angel.

Mother to Michalina.

Yuck! Get this costume off of me. Let me talk about my son 24.7. Let me cry when I feel like it. Let me surf the web for hours on end looking and reading about stillbirths and grief. Don't give me responsibilities that I can't and don't want to fulfill.

I can't get enough of everyone's blogs. I would read them all day long. I feed off of the attempt to feel normal or a little less lonely in the abyss of tears.

Then reality sets in...

The earth doesn't stop. I found that out when the cards stopped coming and people stop calling or showing they care. I tried to stop the world when I lost Sam. Nobody cared. The earth does not stand still for anyone! In fact, it doesn't even slow down. I am learning that now with the holiday's. Since I know it won't stop until I can regain my footing, I want to put on my superhero cape and grab hold of the enormous sphere and just slow it the fuck down. But I got no cape and the world still ticks months in advance for the Christmas cheer of spending a boat load of money on shit people don't need. Christmas is at every turn just to stand there and stick it's tongue out and laugh at me in ridicule that it's not slowing down for shit!

With each passing day, I am reminded that I have to still have Christmas with out my adorable 7 month old baby sitting up in his bumbo ready to chew on the wrapping paper that "Santa" picked out special for him. I am forcefully reminded that there are no gifts to be bought for him only mausoleum wall decorations. Christmas and happy families are here and coming at me full force.

Life lesson: The world does not stop when your baby dies and don't think for a second that it's even going to slow down enough for you to take a breath!