Kids

Kids.

Just the word alone has really been bothering me lately. I think it is more the plural part of it more than anything. After Sam passed away I would say "kids" in conversations, get that puzzled look from people as they glance over at the only "kid" standing near me. That usually was my cue to either tell Sam's story or interject his name.

Now there's no explaining to be had.

I say the word "kids" and people can undoubtedly agree, "yes, kids".
I don't like it.
I miss the opportunities to tell my son's story and spread awareness about stillbirth.

I find myself using the phrase, "the girls" more lately. To me, this is a way of not forgetting to include same in my "kids" ratio while still referring to my only living kids. 

Do you ever think about that? Think, that one small word could rock someone's world and send them into a valley of grief or anger?

Who know such a stupid word would bother me so much. Maybe there will be a day that I won't think of it that way. Maybe there will be a day that I don't have to feel the need to tell Sam's story to the world (i doubt that will ever happen). Maybe people will hear me when I say kids and know that I am including Sam into the factor.

I could always talk to people about my THREE kids...

Until then, my girls and I know who's missing from the kids in our family.

In his memory

We are finally home after driving 370 miles, one way, to Faith's Lodge in northern Wisconsin. We had very different plans this time when we went. We went there to volunteer and participate in a tree planting in honor of Sam.

We arrived Friday early evening, tucked into our hotel in a neighboring town and the anticipation began. I  always get so excited when I have a chance to talk or go to Faith's Lodge. Lucas and I have found so much peace there. When we went in November we were there just the two of us for a week away from reality shortly after we lost Sam. I wrote about it here.

This time was different, we had Michalina with us.

She was elated with joy to be able to go to Wisconsin to see Faith's Lodge. She wanted to see where mommy and daddy stayed when we were "in Wisconsin". She was ready to go in her adorable shirt I made for her, special for the tree-planting occasion. A shirt that says, "My little Brother's an Angel"

I would love these shirts to be a part of Sam's Promise.

Once we arrived, Michalina was prepared to tell every one about her brother and tear her coat off to show her t-shirt to anyone who would look her way and listen. It still amazes me how much of a proud sister she could still be to a brother that is not even here. 

After I gave Michalina her much anticipated tour, Lucas noticed the pier sitting on shore. He of course could't wait to jump out of the car and tell Evelyn that he will do the pier. He suited up and began lugging what he needed to be in his glory of pier work.

The day was filled with love and hope of families who have all said good-bye way too soon. There was a brief beginning ceremony and the planting began. We headed to our spot to plant our Silver Maple that was assigned to us and began digging. Okay, I din't do any digging, Lucas did all the dirty work. I maintain the 4 year old that was not as into the tree-planting as I has hoped. 

Sam's tree is on a hill next to the lodge amongst many other tree's all in honor of a child or baby that has left this world too soon. Being surrounded by people that know exactly how you feel and how your life has been changed forever is something I have a hard time putting into words. Comfort. 

Spending a weekend with mothers, fathers, and siblings that know what it is like to be blind-sided by the most traumatic event is incredible. We had many conversations with parents where we exchanged stories, the feeling you get from these parents is normalcy, comfort, and understanding. Lucas and I were talking and we agreed that we can talk with parents like us and not sit in the uncomfortableness of feeling sorry for us or people staring at you trying to figure out what life must be like in two seconds you allow them to stare you down. 

Hope is what Faith's Lodge offers. Hope and Peace.

Here are a few news clips from the event. They were featured on Minneapolis news stations the night of the event. If you look closely on the channel 4 news clip you can see us behind the couple by Sam's tree. 

KARE Channel 11

CBS Channel 4

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. 

Honesty is the best policy

So, some of you have been following me for a bit or have read my "Dear Readers". I think it is safe to assume that you guys know how honest I am with my posting. Then again, there are some of you who are friends and family and have known me for quite some time...
Here is another raw and honest post. I forewarn you that these thoughts are not towards anyone directly, just raw emotions...


Here it goes. When will it get easier to hear about people's perfect little family...of four! Hearing about people's outings with mommy, daddy and kids just makes me want to hurl! Could it be jealousy, absolutley. I don't deny that at all. I also know that it brings up a handful of emotions I'd much rather keep at bay. That sadness, creeps in and manages to bite me and consume me. Hearing about other perfect little family's with no death concerns in the world is like salt in an open wound. When will this feeling go away!! I don't like it, it makes me feel like an awful person. 
I feel like family's live their lives with normalcy and not have to worry about what emblem they are going to put on their son's crypt wall. They go on living a life of innocence and here we are left to live a life in fear that we will be victims of a silent delivery room. Maybe it stings because I am at a point that there is nothing I can do to change or improve on in my situation. I am stuck! Stuck in the realm of grieving. Stuck in this spiral that has no end in sight. I will always be missing my son, he will never be in my arms again, and my daughter will always have a bother she can't play with. I will always be answering questions of death and heaven from a little girl that held her still brother. 


Innocence and naive mindsets are over-rated. Society is a fantasy.