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.

A little extra

Okay remember a couple of posts ago, I talked about why I wasn't posting too much in the month of December? Well, I can finally show you guys the other contributing factor to that.

A friend of mine shared with me that Grieve Out Loud was doing a handmade gift exchange. She knew I was crafty so she wondered if I had known about it. Well, of course, that is all I needed to hear was "handmade gift" and I was in. Well little did I know what I was getting myself into. My perfectionism came out in full swing. I wanted Melinda's (my gift exchange partner) gift to be perfect. So after much thought and careful planning. I decided I was going to make her a quilt with her angel babies names on it with the word mother in the middle. I think it is important for a mother of only angels to be recognized as mothers. Because that is just what they are, even thought our babies are not here on earth with us, we still mother them.

Melinda's crocheted a beautiful afghan for me and gave me a beautiful bracelet and snowflake ornament. Thank you Melinda for the beautiful gifts. I. Love. Them!

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.