Healthy Dose

I rolled out of bed this morning, thankful it is Friday. After forcing myself into the shower and convincing myself to actually do my hair instead of putting in in a pony, I moseyed downstairs. I looked out my back window and saw a beautiful sunrise. I didn't take a picture because I was in a mad hurry; but I did take a moment to look at it and soak it up. I tell Michalina to look at the sunsets and thank Sam for painting such a beautiful sunset. We joke and that all the angels get together and paint each sunset. So, this morning I thanked my little man for a beautiful sunrise.

After soaking that in, I get in the car to head into to work. Nothing like a small, healthy dose of Bobby Brown. Yep, I said Bobby Brown. My Prerogative (minus all the sluty parts)! After my post yesterday, I mean rant, I thought what a perfect song to follow. It's my prerogative to grieve how I want to grieve and everyone else should mind their own business.

Everybody's talking all this stuff about me

                                                       Why don't they just let me live?

Tell me why I don't need commission

Make my own decisions

That's my prerogative

It's my prerogative

-Bobby Brown

Believe it or not, it put a smile on my face. 

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.

A little Piece of Sam

This was an article shared a while back on Fran's blog over at Small Bird Studios. The article explains how one doctor feels that when women are pregnant that a portion of the baby's cells are forever in the body of the mother. They are to believed to provide protection for the mother.

For me, this is comforting that Sam and Michalina are with me forever-no matter what. I have a part of them with me and they have formed who I am today.

Take a look at the article here. It is worth reading and not very long.

First Christmas down, forever to go...

Okay, okay I know it has been almost a month since my last post and that is not like me. But, I have had a hard time posting lately. There are many posts that I would run through my head and think okay I will sit down and write it. Then, I chicken out. I don't know why, well I sorta think I know. Since Christmas was fast approaching my anxiety was/is on high octave. Just the mention of Sam's name would put me into tears. People would ask how I was doing and I would have to use everything in my power to not shatter into little pieces. Just the thought of actually starting to write my feelings scared the shit out of me because I knew I would be a sobbing mess.

Sometimes people say the anxiety leading up to the event is worse than the actually event. I don't know if that was entirely true for me. Christmas morning was nice only because I had the light of my life to be happy for. Which she said to us last night, "I don't think you guys got me enough presents." Yep, my child is selfish. So of course, I gave her the talk of children who don't get anything for Christmas and she stopped that talk right away.

In Ashley's words, "you might be a Redneck..."

Anyway, during one of my shopping sprees for Michalina I couldn't help but think that I will be buying nothing for Sam for Christmas except what goes at his "wall". That thought alone made me sick to my stomach. How could I not get my son a Christmas gift? So, I came home and explained to Lucas, in tears, that I got something for him, I want it wrap it and put it under the tree. I don't know what I am going to do with it, but at least I bought something for him that I know he would have loved.

My sister-in-law is amazing. She brought us to tears on Christmas morning by delivering the night before a stocking filled with notes for Sam on his first Christmas. She had all the notes typed and in their own envelopes inside a cute little stocking. The notes were beautiful! They simply took our breath away. It amazes me how compassionate family can be. I am also, floored at the impact my little boy has had on people. It makes me such a proud mommy.
I will treasure these notes for years to come. Words cannot begin to tell you how grateful we are Ashley.

After gifts on Christmas morning we stopped at Sam's park for our usual holiday picnic. Note for next year: DD is closed on Christmas day. So, that was a bit of a bummer.

Rewind, Christmas Eve we took it easy and opted out of the normal routine. We had a quiet lunch at my in-laws. To my surprise, they gifted us a beautiful Willow rosemary Angel. I never knew rosemary was a sign of remembrance.

Back to Christmas day...(sorry for jumping around, there's a lot to say) 


I am again, overwhelmed by they impact of my little boy. We were showered with gifts for Sam. Everything from ornaments for his tree to angel figurines with his name on it. I, of course, sobbed like a baby with gratitude and overwhelming joy my son was not forgotten on Christmas day.

I can honestly say I am proud to be this little boys mommy. Even though he never left me alive he has touched lives beyond my imagination. I am humbled by the power of his life. I pray that this power NEVER lingers and that his memory stays in peoples heart for years to come.

For us, a promise is a promise, we will never forget him.