Monday, December 29, 2014

Tears at a funeral

Hard doesn't even begin to describe today.  There are some things I could very easily avoid or refuse to participate in.  Many moms who have lost babies do.  One thing that I am incredibly blessed with is my faith. A big part of having faith is letting go and being there for other family members in their time of need.

My husband and I laughed on the way to today's funeral for my cousin wondering if it will be said in English or Polish.  The amens and pew aerobics are the same regardless of the language.  I was actually hoping the mass would be said in Polish so that I wouldn't understand the homily.

To my dismay, mass was said in English. We followed my parents into the second pew in the center of the church. I was directly behind his widow.  Not exactly where I could be inconspicuous. But I allowed myself time to let my mind wander to other things while going through the motions of mass.

After communion I thought I was home free. I had managed to make it through my first funeral since losing my son and had not collapsed. Not bad I thought. Then the final rites were said. The priest walk down to Arnold's casket with that smoking lantern that I can never remember the name of. He gave the final prayers while walking around the casket and instantly I was brought back to the moment when I realized mass was over and it was time to put my son in the ground. I tried to hold my breath so that I wouldn't cry. The problem with holding your breath, is eventually you gasp for air. And heaven almighty did I ever gasp!  And not just the typical grasping for air type of gasp, but the type that leaves you in a puddle of tears that you cannot control.

My husband held me up for the final few moments. At that moment I don't think I realized how loud I had been. With the final processional songs playing I realized the 2 pews surrounding us with all of my close family all had eyes on me. These are the people that understood that Gasp had nothing to do with my current happenings. Cousins and aunts kissed me and grabbed my hand in acknowledgement of my pain. I was hurting too much to be embarrassed.

Then as we walked to the back of the church, as if on cue, that wacky Holy Spirit decided to bring a bit of comic relief to my tears. A woman who I have never seen before grabbing my sleeve and started speaking to me in Polish. I very politely told her I did not speak Polish and when to walk away. We were standing in a tight mass of mourners shoulder to shoulder and there was no escaping her as she continued to excitedly speak to me as if we had not seen each other in years. Luckily one of my aunts was standing next to me and I was able to look at her and mouth the word "help".  As she smiled and jumped in trying to explain to the stranger that I was not who she thought I was, the giggles overcame me. 

In this  ridiculously painful moment, once again I was brought to giggles by the antics around me.  CJ was there letting me know it was OK I cry, but also to laugh. 

Later at the luncheon, a bit of humility washed over me as I realized my melt down occurred right behind his sweet widow.  She took a moment to come over and hug me extra tight/long and whispered to me "you are so strong".  I smiled and told her to just take it one day at a time. While I was afraid there would be hard feelings over my focus being on my own pain, there was only love.

In the end, I needed today.  I needed to be reminded off my faith in our eternity.  I was yearning for my hands to be held and extended family to simply let it be ok for me to cry.  I felt validated in my pain and reasonable in my grief.

Why do we wait for these occasions to be comfortable with someone's feelings to surface? Why isn't Christmas dinner a good time to show a few tears and hugs of support? Or any given Wednesday in a grocery store? Why is grief kept tucked away for similar moments to commiserate?  I'm here if you ever need to be miserable on a regular day.  Or a day that should be happy.  Or any time anyone needs an ear.  CJ taught me that.

#doitforcj

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Breath of Heaven...

I've been hurting this week.  I hurt every week, but the tears just burn a bit more the past few days.  When our daughter had confirmation class at the church this afternoon, we decided to meet up with her afterwards for evening mass.

Advent.  A season of hope as we wait the birth of our Savior.  I knew there would be talk of a very special baby, believing in the impossible, and waiting.  I was hopeful to find some peace, but realistic knowing I would probably the same typical mascara smeared mess that I usually collapse into at mass.

Once we sat down, the tears started.  There was an empty bed awaiting the birth of Jesus on the alter.  The emptiness just took my breathe away.  My thoughts immediately went to where CJ had once been just a few feet away in his tiny white casket.  The front pew where Nate and I sat with the girls behind us that day just glared at me.  I cried harder.

My husband sat quietly.  Lost in his own thoughts, his arm protectively around me.  Through my tears I managed to whisper to him "will there ever be a time when it doesn't hurt so much to be here?".  His eyes met mine as he quietly answered "no".

Mass began with a horrible dark cloud hanging over our heads.  I often wonder how many people have caught me crying my eyes out in those pews over the past year. 

Father's homily brought such words of comfort.  Not in the way many would think.  He acknowledged that there are so many people hurting this time of year.  While I can never convey his words as eloquently as he did, one image stuck with me.  He had us imagine John the Baptist, dressed in Camel hair cloaks, bearded, and dusty. Imagine going to John instead of Santa and telling him your greatest heart's desires. Not of tangible gifts, but the things that we may believe we can never have.  Tell those desires with the same eagerness and intensity as a child who prays for a coveted toy for Christmas.  And believe in your heart that you will be gifted with everything you can unload from your heart.

I sat pondering how wonderful it would feel to be able to say how I long to hold my sweet little boy out loud to someone who wouldn't look upon me with pity or sadness.  To say the words without tears knowing that not only is it possible, but promised.  I also realized there were things my heart was screaming for that are actually obtainable during my earthly days.

Mass continued, I cried my way up to communion to the confusion of the Eucharistic Minister who smiles at me kindly, and went back to our pew to kneel in prayer. A very large painting of Our Lady Of Guadelupe was on the alter for Her feast day this week.  The choir began to sing...


I have travelled many moonless night
Cold and weary, with a babe inside
And I wonder what I've done
Holy Father, you have come
And chosen me now
To carry your son

I am waiting in a silent prayer
I am frightened by the load I bear
In a world as cold as stone,
Must I walk this path alone?
Be with me now
Be with me now

[Chorus]
Breath of heaven
Hold me together
Be forever near me
Breath of heaven
Breath of heaven
Light up my darkness
Pour over me your holiness
For you are holy

Breath of heaven
Do you wonder as you watch my face
If a wiser one should have had my place
But I offer all I am
For the mercy of your plan
Help me be strong
Help me be
Help me

[Chorus: x2]

Breath of heaven
Breath of heaven
Breath of heaven

My tears intensified for a moment.  WHY had he chosen me to be CJ's mom? Is God disappointed in me of how I have handled this journey? The song felt momentarily cruel and directed at me.

And then I felt it.  A warmth in my heart that defies all words. I have always had a strong connection to Mary.  I have called upon her for her help countless times as I have worked my way through this journey.  But while my eyes were fixed upon the crucifix, my heart pulled my attention over to that beautiful painting of our Blessed Mother.  I looked into Mary's eyes and my tears stopped.  She understood.  She was there with me in my grief showing me I am not alone.  Her presence was so strong that I closed my eyes there on my knees and soaked it in as if it were the summer sunshine making an appearance in the middle of a Chicago winter.  Her warmth and love washed over me as I softly sang along with every word of the song.  This song I had sang along with every Christmas for many years, but never really paid attention to, was soaked in understanding and grace of my Blessed Mother. 

I will never understand why I have been chosen for this path, but I am not alone.  Millions of parents all around the world lit candles in memory of their sweet children tonight.  I came home from mass and joined them while talking to CJ in my heart.

The Bells of Saint Mary's is playing in the background as I write this.  Such a sweet story.  The tree is lit and lights drape over CJ's picture on the mantel. One dog is begging for my attention as she lines up her toy at my feet while the other naps under the tree. I have found a bit of peace.  Even my cough has eased off today. Hopefully tomorrow will bless me with a day of laughter with my sweet little buddy.  I'm sure CJ watches over us and giggles at our antics.  

And through every moment, the Holy Spirit has pushed me in reminder that our Blessed Mother is with me every step of the way.  Yep, my cradle catholic roots are showing tonight. I think I will leave them be for while.  Those roots are proof that I'm planted firmly in place.

Wishing you all the blessing this season promises.

#doitforcj


Monday, December 8, 2014

Dear young moms...

Dear young mom,

Don't be defensive!  I was a young mom, too.  At 19 I gave birth to my first child.  That beautiful baby turns 22 today.  In those 22 years, 3 more beautiful babies joined our family. So instead of being defensive, just stop and listen to me for a moment.

You don't know it all.  I know you think you do, but you haven't a clue.  If you are blessed with a healthy baby, you don't know the heartache of others not as lucky. You are not a perfect mom because there is simply no such thing. You will learn and grow with your child/children.  Be open to new ideas and suggestions.  Resist the urge to compete with other moms. In the end, you child will thrive with your love. Enjoy the journey.

And do yourself a favor and befriend a veteran mom.  We have a wealth of experience to share and have raised our kids in a simpler time.  Just 22 years ago we didn't even have a cell phone, let alone iPads!  Our kids were blessed with afternoons of our imaginations.  We were not bombarded with information and guidelines of ways to parent 24/7. Social media was sitting at the park with the neighbors!  Through those interactions, we have learned the joys of not being distracted by a cell phone. Our toddlers learned to self soothe and kept themselves occupied without constant electronic stimulation.

If you just lost your baby, you path ahead of you to healing lasts a lifetime, not just a few months.  I hurt for you. Having lost CJ at 38, I had a lot of parenting experience behind me. My husband and I had been together for many years and our relationship was definitely much deeper than in our 20s. In odd ways, it was a blessing to have lived through such a tragedy a bit later in life.  Give yourself time. Buddy up with those of us who somehow survived.  I had babyloss moms that stepped forward to hold my hand and let me cry. You can't get through it alone, and it doesn't take just a few months to recover.  The path of grief is long and complicated.  One day you will be there for the next mom. For now, be there for yourself. Heal.  Take time to grieve.

If you swallow your pride and allow some simple joy to develop, you will be just fine. Just remember to KISS those babies.

Keep
It
Simple
Stupid

Happy 22nd to my sweet Katie!!  Thank you for teaching me how imperfect I really am. I couldn't love you any more if I tried!!  #doitforcj

Thursday, November 27, 2014

Surviving holidays...

I made it. Another holiday where my sweet boy should be physically with us.

Short and sweet... It hurts.  Hurts to the point of dissolving into painful sobs in my husband's arms as soon as we were home and the kids went to bed. 

But one moment was so incredibly special to me.  My family wasn't saying CJ's name.  It was beginning to really hurt until a simple comment helped me realize we were ALL missing him.  The exact comment doesn't matter, but how it made me feel changed me perception. I was able to understand this house full of people was missing CJ and protecting me.  I felt admired for my honesty and strength, validated in my pain, and truly loved.

But once home, his absence was simply vicious on my heart.  I broke down.  And after leaving a nice tear puddle on my sweet man's shirt, a nice dose of Xanax and my PJs was all I wanted.  Calm is simply washing over me.  Almost a fog.  Tonight I'm thankful for the help catching my breath.  I've learned there is no badge of honor rewarded for not excepting the help when I need it. I really don't give a crap about the sigma of pharmaceutical help.

Soon Nate will join me in bed.  As usual, his arms will become my refuge. He's hurting too.  I feel it in his hugs and see it in his eyes.  We miss our son.

Sweet dreams to all of you.  I hope today was filled with family and love. For those feeling sad or alone, I understand.  It's OK.  I promise to always listen if you need an ear.  I promise because I have a son I'm missing with a broken heart.  #doitforcj

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Thanksgiving

I'm another year older.  41 as of yesterday, and so far I think I'm a pretty kick ass 41!!

I'm in bed next to the same man I have been head over heels in love with for eighteen years. He still holds my hand while we are out shopping, opens doors for me, carries anything heavy without a grumble, never hesitates to steal a kiss, and can make me laugh through my tears.

Our daughters have grown into beautiful, headstrong, opinionated, hysterically sarcastic, intelligent, ambitious and loving human beings.  They value family and understand the pecking order in life. Family first. Period. They have faced the nightmare of losing their brother together.  They have shown me how to love CJ openly and without boundaries

. Yet their individuality shines through all of those  beautiful, dark eyes.

Our circle of friends has evolved and continues to.  We have learned who will really be there for you through the shit, and who just wants a cheap kitchen remodel out of your husband.  We had to face quiet weekends alone while the evolution happened, but with time the calendar started to fill up again. Including my sweet little buddy that file my days with chaos and laughter.

Last year I stumbled through a day about giving thanks. Ouch.  My wounded heart was furious still with God.  This year we have taken some big strides to repair that mess.   And I am so truly thankful for all of my blessings. 

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!!  Wishing us all a day of peaceful moments and happiness.  Drop the drama, put on your holiday finest, and go be with your families.  I'll be mixing pitchers of cranberry sangria and soaking in some time with my parents who are coming in from out of state.  I'm letting go of a lot of clutter in my heart for the day.  A sweet little boy will help me #doitforcj...

(Thank you for all of the birthday well wishes!!!  I tried to reply to every one, but if I missed you, thank you!!! I spent the day with a house full of kids skipping school and Colton amusing us all with his antics)

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Thank God for nosebleeds?

Thank God for nosebleeds!!

OK, that may be a bit of a stretch.  My husband has been logging a ridiculous amount of overtime.  While the extra money is needed, the toll on the family has been palpable. We work hard to stay in touch but inevitably he misses out on the every day drama that occurs with so much female energy under one roof.

I have been fighting my own health issues and am simply still exhausted.  When I got a call from the emergency room yesterday afternoon at my first chance to sit with a hot cup of coffee and a nebulizer treatment, I admit I was ready to collapse into tears. Instead I grabbed a coat and keys, assigned the kids jobs to cover for me, and started driving.

What I found was the sweetest man I know in a hospital bed hunched over a basin with blood pouring out of his nose. The same man who in the past year watched me labor all night to bring CJ into the world, rushed me to the er with kidney stones, and just last week juggled home and work while I was in the hospital with pneumonia for three days.  He is my rock, and it broke my heart to see him this way.  I fought back tears as I washed the blood out of his beard and ran my fingers through his hair.

Today he is still bleeding and hurting.  The ENT will take another stab at cauterizing his nose tomorrow, but today he was home with us. ALLLLL of us! Even the kids were all home by 5. 

And it hit me... He has to work Thanksgiving, and I had a chance unfolding before my eyes!   Chicken breasts and traditional gravy, homemade stuffing from a loaf of Italian bread, butter, stick, and fresh celery/onion/garlic, stock, corn, cranberries....   It was our 1 hour version of a  traditional holiday feast!  A new movie was popped into the DVD player and we piled onto the couches juggling plates and drinks.  For a few hours we ate, laughed, and exhaled.

The day didn't matter. The date didn't matter.  We were together and more thankful than I can put into words!  Everyone has scattered to finish homework, showers, and laundry. Nate is out cold on the couch from muscle relaxers for his back. I'm slowly taking on the kitchen mess.

But for now, as the 60 lb puppy comes running through the room with someone's bra in her mouth, life is good.  Really really good.

Don't wait for a day on the calendar.  Take advantage of every moment you can with the people you love.  CJ was with us for every bite tickling the giggles out of us and feeling our love.  #doitforcj

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Thankful heart...

Babies...

Everywhere...

I have been inundated with them today.  Every tv commercial and program was brimming with them today.  My news feed was an odd balance of bereaved moms from my support groups sharing pictures of their angels and new moms holding beautiful pink babies born this week.

Plus we have my buddy who is here being cute during the day.  It's not a sad reminder, but definitely a strong one to have him here.  And while noticing the universe seemingly rubbing it in my face today, I also recognized my blessings.

Bonnie.  My insane shepherd/boxer/pit mix joined us as we began to process our grief last year.  Her crazy antics and hyperactive personality has made her a Facebook favorite. Bonnie is a blessing that would have never happened.  Thank you, CJ.  THANK YOU for sending this insane ball of love into our lives.

***  I began writing this prior to finding myself in the hospital for 3 days with pneumonia in both lungs. Home for a few days today and feeling so thankful and ready to finish this***

Friendships have been brought into my life that I would never have without my sweet boy.  Other moms who have survived the unimaginable swooped me up in there big, protective arms when I needed to feel safe.  We have cried, yelled, and even laughed together at all hours of the day and night.  I have been the comforted and eventually the comforter.  My sense of empathy and compassion has forever been changed by this experience.  Thank you CJ for bringing mommy the support she needed to get through the hardest days.

Old friends jumped to help me recover this week while I simply couldn't take care of myself.  Familiar faces nursed me back to health, took the time to ask about our CJ, and simply sit and hold my hand.  Companionship is easily avoided when you have been through such a traumatic time.  I'm thankful for these dear people stepping a bit closer than I usually allow towards my guarded heart.

Tomorrow I'm going to attempt to get life back on track.  My little buddy will be here causing havoc, kids will be shipped off to school, and hubby to work.  And nomatter how disastrous tomorrow goes, at the end of the day God willing I will kiss our daughters goodnight and snuggle back into bed with the man who somehow makes me laugh through it all.

Because let's face it,  even when missing CJ to the point of tears, I am very blessed.  And today I'm thankful for a lighter heart to see those blessings. 

Another day without my sweet CJ  on earth, but another day closer to holding him in heaven... #doitforcj

Monday, October 27, 2014

Babysitting??

Little feet have been scampering around our house.  Tiny fingerprint on the TV, fireplace, and front window remind me he was here.  An acquaintance asked me why I would put myself through such a thing.  My answer is very simple.

He's not my son.

This little guy is just a few weeks older than CJ.   I watched my sweet friend nervously prepare to return to work after being home with him the past year.  There was absolutely no hesitation in my heart to offer to help her out. 

For the past few weeks, he and I have spent our weekdays together.  He makes me laugh with his antics. Even his fits make me giggle. I've been reminded how challenging it is to grocery shop with a one year old and how quickly little fingers can get into mischief!  I wipe his morning tears as mommy leaves, cuddle up on the couch with him and my coffee, and we both take some time to enjoy that quiet time before he is off and running!

I happily allow him to strip, chase the dogs, climb the furniture, throw his toys everywhere, loose tv remotes/car keys/sunglasses, and attempt to scale the baby gate. Lunch is homecooked meals I prepare the day before that he eats in his booster (on top the coffee table to avoid fattening up the dogs) while we watch a Disney movie. 

He is overindulged, but so am I.  He freely gives away kisses and cuddles all day long.  He reminds me some things can simply wait until later, and sitting on the floor playing trucks IS pretty cool.

He has venture out to our lunch dates with us and I always laugh at the odd looks we get when this sweet  boy's little afro definitely isn't from my husband...  Yet Nate happily carries him and chatters away at the table with him.  Stroller walks in the mall, shopping, and the dreaded post office line... We've tackled it all! 

But he's not my son.

My few tearful moments have really been about my family. Hearing the girls play with him from the next room, or catching Nate quietly watching me snuggling with him.  I feel the joy his presence brings, but also see in their eyes how they miss CJ.  How we all miss our sweet boy.

For now, we have been blessed with a buddy.  Colton and I are falling into a rhythm.  He keeps me from slipping back into bed on the bad days, and hopefully I'm showing him how wonderful the world is.  Amazing how a one year old can have such as huge effect on helping me heal.

To Colton's mommy,  I love you like a sister. Thank you for trusting me with your sweet little boy.  I hope my crazy text updates help you feel like you are with us during our crazy days!  I promise to kiss him way too much, take a ridiculous amount of pictures, give him baths just so I can sit still for 15 min, let him ride the shepherd (but not the cocker spaniel. There have to be SOME rules!!), destroy less laundry, and do my best to be the sitter I would want for CJ.

He may not be my son, but I love him! Thank you for loving my girls and bringing a bit of madness into my life.  You are truly the MODY!  maybe I can strive for first runner up?? 

#doitforcj

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Hope and despair...

A very brief visit a few days ago with a dear aunt has left my heart very hopeful.   She spoke with such certainty about my future that it took my breath away.  I believe with all of my heart that she hears God's messages with such purity compared to what my heavy soul could ever imagine.

A bit later I was alone at the cemetery.  Tears fell bitterly as I watched bright red leaves blowing across the graves.  I couldn't pray. My mind couldn't even string together the words to talk to my son like I usually do.  I just stood there numb.  Crying.  And simply wanting to hold my son.

Then I noticed something that made me smile. A small granite slab. There is a little girl just a few spots over that passed away several years ago, yet does not have a headstone.  Her grave is visited often by the decorations that appear. When I was there last, I prayed to God for that family to be gifted with whatever help they needed to mark that angel's resting place.  And just a few days later, there was a base!  The stone must be ordered for a base to be placed.  Such a small thing, but at that moment I wish I knew that angel's mom so I could call her and let her tell me about the perfect memorial they chose.

Parenting an angel leaves you with very few moments that you have something to share with others.  When I talk to other angel moms, we exchange hospital/funeral stories. Or maybe  memorial items we have for our babies. Sometimes on the darker days we relive what went wrong. Those that have the answers of why their baby died share. Those of us who don't, ponder. Choosing that stone is the last choice those of us who bury our child will even make for them.  Ever.  It's more final than any other experience you can ever have.  Signing that order was terrifying and comforting all in the same moment.

Thinking back to those words our aunt shared today brought tears over and over all evening.  She didn't try to get me to believe "God needed an angel" as so many others have.  She validated my pain.  She understood the lethal nature of the weight on our hearts that we carry every single day. Her empathy for the intensity was something I was so thankful for. But most of all, she encouraged me to remember there is still so much more for us. 

It's a very odd existence to live knowing your child is dead. Nothing is ever really the same.  You fight the balance of existing vs living . Moments of hope pop up often during my greatest despair.  But I have faith that more good days will continue to seep into the cracks.   In the meantime, I'll just keep trying to #doitforcj.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Drama in the Target parking lot

I have always been a bit of a hot head.  I think it just balances out my better qualities a bit!  But since we lost CJ, my filter seems to be even weaker than before.

Today was a perfect example. After a long day babysitting the cutest one year old on earth, the girls and I decided to head out to Target for things to make a quick, late dinner and a cheap dvd to add to our growing collection.  Seemed simple enough.

The first comical choice I made was to take the conversion van.  Yep. With a lovely sedan in the garage, I grabbed the keys to the Queen Mary for the simple reason that it had a full tank of gas! 

The parking lot was busy, but not crazy. I found a spot just a few spaces from the door and parked it. Yes, it was between the lines. Yes, it's a huge vehicle.  But to put this in perspective, the girls opened both doors on the passenger side and easily got out without touching the mini suv on their side.  Little did we know it's owner, a hot headed momma with a toddler, was waiting impatiently for us to disembark (Queen Mary/disembark. Get it? Lol cracking myself up).

Immediately she started speaking in her outdoor voice to her little one that she had no idea how she was going to get her into their car.  My kids kicked it into high speed and headed towards the store. Annoyed, I lingered.  She continued to speak to the child so I could hear her about how rude I was. 

Yep, I engaged.

I asked her if she would like me to move for her and she snapped "I'm not speaking to YOU!!"

I think you can all picture what happened next.  I said a few words about acting like a grown up and that I'd happily move over for her. Of course adding if she just asked instead her passive aggressive crap... And I walked back to climb back in and scootch it over literally a few inches. 

My engine starting up threw her into a rage! To prove her point she whipped her back door open (just about all of the way I might add) to where if I backed up she would be clocked by my huge mirror and proceeded to lock her toddler into the car seat.  As soon as she shut the door and went to return her cart, I backed up and nudged over literally a few inches.

I jumped out (yep, jumped. It's a big van!) and had perfect timing to watch her ram her cart into the cart return with all of her might.  I had to laugh. It was like watching a child throwing a fit.  As she stormed across my path I added " there you go, princess" to which she retorted my absolute favorite "WHATEVER!" and got into her cute little suv and slammed the door like a maniac. I met up with the girls who looked a bit shocked standing by the front door.

Yes, I did immediately think who knows what she has struggled with today. I don't have a clue of her story or her struggles. But another thought bothered me more.  She was raising a bully!

What I witnessed was a mean girl in training. Her mom was using her as a direction for her passive aggressive behavior, to say things she didn't have the nerve to just say to me, and modeling basic gossip behavior. That woman was laying the  groundwork for that child to be another mean little girl.  That breaks my heart. I never really thought about how this mean girl phenomenon originates in the home.  These girls just seemed to appear around middle school.  And here was a true example of when it starts. With a toddler in a diaper listening to a mean girl with experience.  She calls her mommy.  She is her idol and best friend.

My sweet CJ continues to lead me to new life lessons daily.  I implore all of you raising little girls to contemplate what I witnessed today. What kind of behavior are you modeling for your little girls?  Do you expect better behavior out of her than you do for yourself?  Are you teaching her compassion and patience with your actions? Do you model how to interact with strangers in a loving and pleasant way? Listen to a veteran mom with 3 kind, loving daughters.

I could have skipped calling her a princess, but maybe that was the last turn of the screw that will make her stew long enough to really think.  Doubtful that my interaction with her did little to leave a favorable impression, but maybe by sharing my crazy story I can leave one on all of you.

Just be kind to one another. Practice patience and throw in some humor.  And if you happen to get annoyed with the Queen Mary parked next to you,  take a deep breath and put it into perspective.  You could be parked in a cemetery visiting your child rather than wasting money in Target...

#doitforcj

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Today was just a downer.  No specific reason. Maybe the weight of yesterday's remembrance day for lost babies was just a bit too much for my soul.  CJ was heavy on my mind and I was having a hard time shaking that horrific feeling of loss. It's heavy, painful, and often debilitating.

By the time we were returning home from a high school choir concert, everyone was getting snippy with each other.  Down right bitchy actually.  Sometimes as a mom you have to make a split second decision. Since beating a 21, 16, an 14 year old had never been my style, I had to improvise. Here's are my step by step instructions for saving the night:

First, call their Dad at work.  Give very little details except to firmly tell him to send pizza to the house. NOW. This was said in a tone that he understands life is hanging in the balance and no further discussion is going to end well.

Then pull the car over in the quietest side street you can find.  The car will immediately became very very still.  The darker the street, the better.  That moment needs to dramatic.

Without making eye contact, sternly order the one kid who is refusing to get her driver's permit out of the car, and get out yourself.  Keep in mind, this is the same child who is the subject of an epic story of being removed from the minivan still strapped into her carseat around age 3 after repeatedly biting her baby sister. She sat terrified on the ground of a random parking lot in a bad neighborhood with me staring her down and bystanders probably thinking  was going to leave her there!!  Anyway, back to the important steps...When everyone looks near tears and wondering what the heck you are about to do, smile and instruct her to get behind the wheel while you climb into her spot in the back seat.

The next 15 minutes will be filled with laughter, yelling, practice crash positions from the obnoxious passengers in the back seat, and many many many left turns around the block.  Those 15 minutes are your chance to remind everyone how blessed we are. We are together. A big piece was missing, as it always will be.  But it's ok to laugh even on a crappy day.  It's ok to take a night when you are walking in near 10pm without a plan for dinner and order a pizza on a school night.  It's ok to challenge a kiddo to step out of her comfort zone because she has a safety net.  I will always be their safety net.

Missing our CJ more than I can ever explain, but trying my best to live a life that my kids will remember me laughing more than crying.  I'm ok with a reputation for wine and pizza on the couch on a school night.  But most of all,  I hope they realize the lemonade may be a little more sour than we prefer, but it sure is better than chewing on a basket full of lemons.

#doitforcj

lemons into lemonade

Today was just a downer.  No specific reason. Maybe the weight of yesterday's remembrance day for lost babies was just a bit too much for my soul.  CJ was heavy on my mind and I was having a hard time shaking that horrific feeling of loss. It's heavy, painful, and often debilitating.

By the time we were returning home from a high school choir concert, everyone was getting snippy with each other.  Down right bitchy actually.  Sometimes as a mom you have to make a split second decision. Since beating a 21, 16, an 14 year old had never been my style, I had to improvise. Here's are my step by step instructions for saving the night:

First, call their Dad at work.  Give very little details except to firmly tell him to send pizza to the house. NOW. This was said in a tone that he understands life is hanging in the balance and no further discussion is going to end well.

Then pull the car over in the quietest side street you can find.  The car will immediately became very very till.  The darker the street, the better.  That moment needs to dramatic.

Without making eye contact, sternly order the one kid who is refusing to get her driver's permit out of the car, and get out yourself.  Keep in mind, this is the same child who is the subject of an epic story of being removed from the minivan still strapped into her carseat around age 3 after repeatedly biting her baby sister. She sat terrified on the ground of a random parking lot in a bad neighborhood with me staring her down and bystanders probably thinking  was going to leave her there!!  Anyway, back to the important steps...When everyone looks near tears and wondering what the heck you are about to do, smile and instruct her to get behind the wheel while you climb into her spot in the back seat.

The next 15 minutes will be filled with laughter, yelling, practice crash positions from the obnoxious passengers in the back seat, and many many many left turns around the block.  Those 15 minutes are your chance to remind everyone how blessed we are. We are together. A big piece was missing, as it always will be.  But it's ok to laugh even on a crappy day.  It's ok to take a night when you are walking in near 10pm without a plan for dinner and order a pizza on a school night.  It's ok to challenge a kiddo to step out of her comfort zone because she has a safety net.  I will always be their safety net.

Missing our CJ more than I can ever explain, but trying my best to live a life that my kids will remember me laughing more than crying.  I'm ok with a reputation for wine and pizza on the couch on a school night.  But most of all,  I hope they realize the lemonade may be a little more sour than we prefer, but it sure is better than chewing on a basket full of lemons.

#doitforcj

Monday, October 13, 2014

14 months. Ouch.

There had been a feeling of heaviness all day in my heart. Seeing one of our daughters post about missing her brother sealed my fate.  I'm awake at 2am a mascara streaked mess after finally falling apart for awhile.

What a horrible reality I juggle... Balancing my own grief with helping our daughters and trying to set an example.  Tears are always OK, but we have to keep functioning.  If I allow everyone to fall apart, I may never be able to put the pieces back together.  I fully understand my limits.  Faith and my true beliefs in the joys of life are the glue that hold it all together. Unfortunately days like today that glue has the strength of used chewing gum. Sticky yet pliable. Not strong enough for big jobs.  Tending to teenager/young adult hearts is a BIG job.

No school today.  This happens to fall on CJ's 14 month anniversary.  I don't think we will ever be able to get through the 13th the same for as long as we live.  There will be short fuses, unexpected hugs, tears, laughter. We pretty much run through every human emotion every 13th.
So if you wonder if things are "easier" with time, they aren't.  They are simply different. We have become artists with hiding and masking our emotions. Very rarely does anyone outside of our walls reach out to us on the 13th anymore.  That makes our grief terribly isolating.  A visit to the cemetery to clear leaves and wipe off new paw prints from the resident raccoon with leave us emotionally wiped out.  We will pretend with even eachother that we are OK.  It's a farce.  Our hearts are screaming for someone to remember.  To hear his name said, or even see it in print.  Those desires strengthen with time as we desperately hold on to such a sweet memory.  Our sweet boy CJ.

CJ, please be a good boy and send us a sign today. We will be thinking of you every second.

#doitforcj

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Very very jealous today

A baby died today, and I am so jealous...

Not that I wish the pain of losing a child on anyone.  But a couple slipped into the news recently for living a bucket list for their unborn child.  They knew he had a terminal condition and may not even survive birth.  They did what I daydream of.  They lived every moment of his time with them in joy.  They knew the inevitable, yet pushed forward with the pregnancy and soaked in every moment.

They preplanned his funeral together.  Instead of how it played out for us with me in the hospital and Nate making sleep deprived decisions the day CJ was born. They were able to calmly decide together how to celebrate their son.

They made arrangement for a photographer and family to be present. 

A community has stepped forward to help them enjoy the time they had, plus say goodbye. They are admired and remembered for loving their child.

And when she went into labor naturally, they got to go through the motions like any other parents to deliver those son.  They listened to his heartbeat knowing it may be the last time as she labored to bring their beautiful boy into the world.  A stark difference from being sent over moments after learning your beautiful, healthy baby is dead to be induced as you listen to your husband on the phone trying to find the words...

What a blessing this family was given!  They baptized a living baby and shared a few sweet memories with him before he became an angel.

He existed.  He has a birth certificate.  His Catholic baptism included chrism and is fully recognized by the church. He qualifies for life insurance. They can claim him on those federal tax return. His existence is legitimate.

My heart breaks for them as they say goodbye, but my soul aches for the tiny bit of time they had to prepare. I agree they are brave, beautiful people.  But don't forget those of us who didn't have time to plan. Our destinies changed in a heartbeat.  There was no time to be attract national attention for how we loved our babies.  We are just left shattered to watch other families like this one with time that we would have laid our own lives down to have.

So today, I'm jealous.

Rest in peace sweet little Shane.  There are so many beautiful angels waiting to play with you!!!

#doitforcj

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Letting go... Or trying to!

I've been pretty darn angry if you haven't noticed.  Tonight I had such a relaxed bit of time with my husband.  This is a very rare evening treat due to work schedules.  Having him home with a sore back gave us a chance to crawl into bed before midnight and watch a movie together while I folded laundry.  Such a simple thing, but much needed normalcy.

That's what I miss most.  Simple normalcy.  I have felt like I've been scrutinized every step I've taken this past year.  I don't say enough, say too much, I'm pushy, don't ask for what I want,  expect too much,  don't give people a chance to help, take on too much, need to get back to life...  Just a few of the favorite gossip lines that float around about me.  Everyone has an opinion, yet very few say it directly to me.

So I exploded.  I have spent the past few weeks really ticked off.  Not the healthiest phase of grief. But tonight, I put my guard down. I laughed and enjoyed some crazy simple time.  I allowed myself to fell some guilt free joy.

This isn't how my life is supposed to be.  I don't think I'm going to get one more chance to fulfill our dream of adding to our family.  Time is ticking by and our chances get slimmer with each passing month. But somehow, love is filling the cracks.

I have a sweet little boy CJ's age spending some time with me during the week.  Today was day one of having his sweet energy in the house.  He brought such joy to my heart.

The cracks left by friends that have vanished have been filled by people OK with things being a little messy for me right now.  Old, dear friends and crazy new ones fill my days with encouragement.

My calendar is filling up with appointments as I finally take the plunge to go out on my own.  Contributing to the household brings me joy and pride. 

I'm going to allow myself to let go of some of this anger.  The fear of tears no longer terrifies me.  I have my support system to pick me back up.  God has better plans for me than to leave me wallowing in this ugly place.

Thank you to everyone who continues to pray for us.  Your prayers are moving mountains.  One day at a time, I will #doitforcj

Monday, October 6, 2014

National blah blah blah month

October.  Ughhhhh....

You may have seen posts declaring it National Infant/Pregnancy Loss month.  This was in thanks to President Raegan.  Yet while 1 in 4 pregnancies are lost, October is really know for saving the boobies.  I am in no way belittling any cause.  In fact, my point is quite simple.

I am not a poster child people are looking for.

We want to put a pretty bow on a horrible subject.  Nobody wants to talk about dead babies.  We can't put silly phrases or cartoons on the topic of stillborns or miscarriages. Grieving moms do not make for pretty pictures on websites and billboards.

I use profanity.  Often.  My journey is pure bullshit.  I make no apologies for dropping f bombs when there are no other words severe enough to explain my state of mind.  Definitely not spokesperson behavior.

I wear sunglasses on my head nomatter the weather to hide behind during one of my never ending breakdowns.  There are no boundaries to where and when the waterworks may start.  It makes people incredibly uncomfortable. Definitely not something people idolize.

I walk around wearing my heart on my sleeve. I tend to be open to people who have been through their own living hell.  Crappy marriages, substance abuse,  financial ruin, dead babies... If it's ugly or embarrassing, I'm your girl to befriend!  My community is a beautiful group of riffraff, once wounded but full of love and laughter.  We are often loud, offensive with our humor, and attention grabbing.  Yet all are welcome to join if you leave your ego at the door.  A group picture would show our dark eye circles, bruised souls, sleep deprived hearts, yoga pants and half empty wine glasses. Nobody wants their kids to view us as something to strive for.

This is why you may see a few posts shared by me, but I won't be joining in on most of the events my beautiful babyloss community is planning this month. I won't be wearing the t-shirts being printed by various group proudly starting I'm the mom of an angel. 

I am not the poster child for babyloss.  I am simply a mom doing whatever it takes to take the next breath.

I hope one day we can do better. That as a society we can reach out to the ugly causes.  The ones that make us uncomfortable to talk about.  Maybe when your kids show up with pink save the boobies bracelets or you notice yet another pink magnet ribbon on the back of a car you will think of CJ.  I'll happily ride on the shirt tales of another cause.  Plus what little boy wouldn't love to be remembered with a bunch of boobies??

Because let's face it... I am no role model!
But at the least I can keep reminding you all why I continue to #doitforcj .

Friday, October 3, 2014

Hard day...

It's been a few days.  Some days my highs and lows exhaust me to where I can't seen to pull my thoughts together.  The changing seasons are bringing back a lot of memories of last year.

I remember the trees losing leaves annoying me.  Without a headstone, if a few days went between visits the only way to find CJ was by the crazy about of decorations we had out there for him. 

This year I can't even get my thoughts together to change his flowers out to fall colors.  I stopped by only once this week and ended up on the ground crying into the grass until I was  exhausted.  There was very little comfort to being close to him.

Time hurts.  I can't remember him as clearly.  I know the few pictures I have of him are not quite what he looked like, but I can't see him in my mind like I could just a few months ago.  The feeling of his tiny weight in my arms is gone.  My arms simply ache from the emptiness.

Halloween decorations simply disgust me.  Every RIP fake headstone makes me want to vomit.  Why is that funny? Why have we turned death into something to mock? Cemeteries into places of gore and horror?

So today my reality hurts.  It just really really hurts. Hopefully a house full of homecoming excitement will be distracting tomorrow.  Either way, my only choice is to keep trying to #doitforcj



Just my newest household reminder of his sweet presence with us :)

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

setting things straight...

I have avoided this.  I do not think the logistics of what changes I have fought for at the hospital CJ was born at have been something that we really need to discuss.  The outcomes have been something I am so proud to have been a part of.

But unfortunately my kids have now seen a post online that makes me look like a monster.  While the person who wrote it could very easily call me, she has decided to take the public venue. So I am going to clear the air. Here is one small logistical part of CJs story that I have vaguely covered before...

I was induced with CJ on Sunday evening.  He was born at 5:30am Monday.  A nurse grabbed a camera and took a few pictures for us.  Most were blurry with poor lighting making him look much darker than he was at an angle that make him resemble a little pug puppy (but so so cute!).  A cd appeared in my room just a few hours later with the company logo of the contracted photography company I will refer to as B.  I didn't give it much more thought than that.  Disappointed that we only had novice pictures taken on the photographer's equipment, assumingly placed on that cd by the same nurse.  Luckily my sister took one picture of each of our girls holding him with her iPhone.

After a few weeks, I found myself looking at B's company's website and searching the internet for information.  I was heartbroken to see that the company DID take pictures of babies born still as well as the wealth of professional photographer volunteers that the hospital could have on call that donate their services for bereaved families. With time I will become determined to insure every single baby delivered at that hospital have a professional photo shoot.  My obstacle was making the right contacts and figuring out where the current protocol fell apart for CJ.

I was visited once by an old friend who happens to work for B.  She was very sweet responding to my questions, but it stuck in my mind that she kept mentioning that they (the photographers) had lives too and couldn't cover the hospital 24/7.  I stuck with me to the point of nightmares. I understood this was just a job to her and she had a point.  So I started investigating.

I contacted 2 other photographers that work for B at other hospitals that were friends of friends.  I gathered mounds of info, but things STILL were not adding up. Eventually several months ago I had a meeting with the head of the bereavement department for the 4 hospitals in our area over several issues that could use improvement. We will call her RN.  Her compassion for our story was overwhelming, and she sprang into action.  Several things that may seem small to others were improved immediately.  Footprint cards that rejoiced in birth instead of reflecting death, kits to make hand and feet molds, retraining of the staff on the rights of families/services and options available to families, and finally the photography contract. She immediately met with B and planted the seed of our story.  Change was happening before my eyes in so many ways.

There was a history of crappy stories regarding B bouncing between the hospitals.  In a support group I heard of a photographer from this very company that refused to even enter the room. Moms have been treated for the most part respectfully, but the few blemishes were horrific.  But the biggest glaring aspect was the specific hospital we were at seemed to be a free for all.  So very simply,  administration pulled the contract and opened a conversation with the company while exploring other options.

Yesterday, after 10 months of this process I finally sat in on a meeting with B, RN, and  hospital staff to hear from B what has been addressed and the policies in place now, as well as showing a few nurses how to operate the camera in case of an emergency. The meeting of the minds was very positive.  After the meeting was wrapped up, I was chatting with the manager from B. My story timeline was discussed in detail to figure out what happened.  Then after over a year of not understand why I do not have professional pictures of CJ, it all fell together before my eyes.

I always assumed the photographer never set foot in the hospital on Monday. It was the only reasonable explanation.  I was wrong. There is absolutely no reason that my sweet boy did not have pictures taken.  The hospital is covered by a photographer 7 days a week by contract.  He was born at 5:30am and remained in the building until later that night. A photographer from B was there at 9am (or should have been. that has not been confirmed).  That photographer took the card with the few pictures the nurse took, edited them, made  2 black and whites, and burned it to the cd.  The cd was given to a nurse to deliver to me.

So a professional photographer looked at CJ's few pictures and burned them to a cd without ever offering to take photos.  A baby that was born just a few hours prior and was still available.

no feet, no hands, no profile, no bare head even.   Nothing of us kissing our sweet boy. Pictures with our priest where not a smidge of CJ is showing.  Just a blanket in my arms.

Just a close up of his blurry face and a few family pictures of me with a ridiculous ponytail on top of my head in a hospital gown and smeared makeup.  This was my only photo memories of my son.  His ENTIRE physical existence on this earth in 6 crappy shots by a nurse with good intentions.

Think about that.  6 pictures.

Yes, sometimes babies need to be brought back from the morgue for pictures. The district manager of the B made it very clear that this is policy and done often. But he was still on the floor for some time. B employees work in a hospital and it is part of thier job.  They know it when they are hired.  But considering this photographer was on premises a few hours within his birth, THERE IS NO EXCUSE.  Someone CHOSE not to follow up on a very minimal, pathetic sitting (in the eyes of ANY professional photographer) and sent that cd to my room without another thought. It was not important.  We were not important.  It was good enough.  My first thought was I pray that the photographer is not someone I know.  To see my family on the screen and know I am there broken hearted and do nothing is deplorable.  This is not an expectation for someone to go above and beyond.  This is simply following through on the company contract and offering every baby in the building a proper photo shoot.

So yesterday my heart broke all over again.  As the pieces of the puzzle came together and we realized this did fall on the hands of one photographer who made a decision with the only memories I will have for the rest of my life.  I hope I never learn the identity of the photographer.  I will never forgive her for stealing those memories being captured from us. The photo we have enlarged and framed over our fireplace is of his hands. The only one we have of those sweet hands. Our funeral director took it with his cell phone after he dressed him.  We cropped out his dark, swollen face to protect our own hearts.  We are eternally thankful he took that picture as a spontaneous gesture to a grieving mom who never saw her son at the funeral home.  But now it just is a reminder that a professional photographer had an opportunity to snap a couple quick pictures of him while he was still a cute pink little baby and she chose not to.

I cried on the way home with the confirmation that CJ did not simply slip through the cracks.  But by the time I was home, I was at peace.  Those changes mean less regrets for the next families who have to endure this living hell.  They will be haunted by plenty other things.

My kids were smiles and so happy to hear of the changes.  I kept the B part quiet since I was still processing. I put on some coffee and sat down to prepare for a photo shoot with 2 adorable little girls later that evening. Sipping coffee, listening to CJ's soundtrack, and printing release forms I found contentment.

Then my phone rang.  "jen, are you online?"  a friend asked sounding urgent.  Of course I was. She directed me to a post.  Luckily when I found it I took a screen shot before I was blocked a few hours later from reading it.  It seems a B photographer has taken to social media to blast me.  My involvement with the hospital has obviously struck a nerve.

"I am repeatedly hurt by a friend blaming me for pain at a time when I reached out in friendship genuine caring only to have things used against me.  I can't believe healing can happen when you are soooooooo very focused on tearing down others that go out of their way to comfort people....."

The rest just gets uglier.

So here is my one any only time I will address this.  EVERYTHING I do is in honor of CJ.  My issues were with the policies of B, not any particular employee.  3 employees very clearly gave me the same run down of how things operate. The reputation and track record of past situations with B was well known around the hospitals and simply needed to be corrected.  RN had stories that ripped at my heart.  This was a situation waiting to overboil and I was just the woman to turn the heat up so it had to be dealt with!  And from what I have seen, they have been!  It seems to me that if you are so incredibly mad the level this was taken to for the sake of your reputation, maybe you were part of the problem instead of the solution.  This was business, pure and simple.  There are about 50 losses at year at this one hospital alone. 50 moms that hold their dead baby.   Every single one needs to be treated with the same respect, digity, and urgency that a sitting of a cherub faced live baby that brings in a nice commission brings.

Every

Single

One.

So today my friend list should be shorter, but I have to laugh that several more moms have joined following my online insanity.  I will be ok.  More cages will be rattled, change will be sparked, and people will remember CJ's name.  

I spent the day trying to decide how to handle this, and it turns out my incredible flock of angels once again swooped in to try to spare my heart with some damage control. My circle of supporters is bigger and more ferocious than I would ever want to take on myself !  And I love every one of you.  But I ask you all to let it be.  I have put enough info out there to honor CJ without retaliating in an ugly way.  Let's all just delete her impulsive message and not share it any further. Everyone breathe.

And smile!  Think of all of those cute little piggies that moms will have molds of.  Sweet little fingers photographed to be framed.  Remember my efforts have educated the staff of fantastic support outlets for when the families return home empty handed.  My work is far from done, but holy heck!!  I can't believe how far we have come in a year!

Because let's face it,
I may ruffle a few feathers
 but in the end all that matters is that I
#doitforcj





Friday, September 19, 2014

Words and the appropiate use of the F word

I'm frustrated. 

Surprise, surprise!

How do I deal with people that should love us through anything that are holding a grudge for things I said a few months after I lost my son?  For standing up for myself and admitting my feelings were trampled by their actions?  For once, standing up and saying ENOUGH?

Why do we continue to apologize for needing to protect our hearts? Why is it my responsibility to mend fences with people who have decided to avoid us during the hardest time of our lives over words?

Words.

Honest, pure, hurt derived, heartbroken, angst riddled, overstressed, sleep deprived, emotionally empty words.  Words that I probably strung together wrong in the eyes of those who are used to me kissing their ass.  Words that have been stifled for many years and many occasions due to an upbringing that urged my to keep the peace, be pleasant, and never make a scene.

Yet words that I have no desire to apologize for.  A discussion would be the reasonable response you would think, but instead we have been comically shunned.  Comically as in who stops speaking to people who you should love unconditionally, especially when they are in a living hell?  The only other place I can think such behavior could originate is cruelty, so I prefer to find it comical.

Sometimes after YEARS of hurt feelings, you explode.  Or even worse, implode.  The end result is a mess either way.  It's just the difference of destroying yourself, or taking down a few bystanders with you.  Evidently I am the explode type. 

All over words.

That brings me back to the purest text message of my life.  I sent a text to the most prayer driven man I know when we got the heartbreaking news that we had lost CJ.  I needed prayers of biblical proportions.  His response was so perfect.

"FUCK"

This man who I knew would drop to his knees in prayer for us summed up that moment so perfectly.  The response was completely shocking, over the top, and perfect.  It showed me in that moment that I didn't need to share another word.  He understood the gravity of the situation.  He asked nothing else and i have no doubt he was with us every step of the way until her got to hug me for the first time in over 20 years at the funeral. That's is a friend.  How crazy blessed am I to be that loved? My gratitude for that text is immeasurable.  We knew we were not alone and he was there for the long haul.  All with one obscene word. I still feel his prayers around me daily.

Loosing your child is an obscene situation.  Having to survive it even more so.  I have imploded to a point where parts of me will never heal.  I have exploded and some have cowered and chosen to leave us.  But many, many more have inched closer to us knowing the danger.  They wear the battle wounds of being on the front line as we fired desperately into the darkness in an attempt to protect ourselves.

Those tattered angels show up with wine and owls when I think I am completely alone and forgotten in my pain.  They quietly helped us pay for our son's headstone when we thought we would have to chose between tuition for one child or a headstone for another.  They realize our need to live life and push us by sending us out to enjoy ourselves with concert tickets and dinner gift cards.  They continue to pray for us and understand too well the pain in our eyes despite our smiles.  That army of love has helped me deal with those who bluntly pout with anger and hurt feeling over words.

Words.

Seriously??

FUCK

I'll be contemplating making peace for the sake of my sweet husband's nerves.  But not apologizing.   I did nothing wrong.  I am giving myself a pass on the typical guilt trip I force upon myself.   Because in the end,  I'm surviving.  In whatever form it may take, I #doitforcj.

*** please be sure to subscribe and follow my blogI appreciate the shares and hope to get many more!!   With every share comes the chance for someone who thinks they are alone in this journey to hear another crazy woman digging through the same crapOr maybe we can simply learn to be kinder to each otherAll of usHeaven knows I can always use the reminder! #doitforcj ***




Thursday, September 18, 2014

The chairs of my kitchen...

It has been a long week.  As soon as anyone starts to sniffle or cough, my mind goes to worse case scenario.  A trip to our family doctor with the sickest of the bunch put my heart at ease a bit.  Today I played a lot of catch up and I'm happy to report while my house is a wreck, I just caught up on all of the work for my business and I'm ready to tackle a few appointments this weekend.

So in the midst of tripping over dirty dishes and laundry, I decided to tackle a new kitchen challenge.  Homemade granola bars. Even bigger challenge? Drafting the girls to work together to make it happen!

So the 3 of them measured, melted, combine, poured, and pressed with minimal bickering.  I ignored the "why do WE have to do this?" from one kid and another being a bit bossy. For the most part, they were working together and hopefully learning something along the way.  I stood back and watched and couldn't help but feel CJ's absence so desperately that I needed to walk away to wipe a few tears.  He should have been having chocolate chips snuck to him by his sisters while he played at their feet.  They should have been asking me to grab him because he was underfoot. 

What those sweet girls don't really realize is they were contributing to a decision we made for them many years ago.  From the first disgusting jar of baby food I offered to our oldest, I was determined to do better.  We couldn't afford fancy baby food making systems, so I simply cooked for my toddlers and froze portion in ice cube trays to be stacked in baggies in the freezer for when there wasn't something on the table they would enjoy.  When they started school, I was equally disgusted with the school lunches. Our oldest had a fresh lunch packed for her almost every day until she graduated highschool.  And now that she is commuting for a semester, we have added her lunch to the stack we prepare again. 

It's those simple moments that I am so proud of the effort we have put into raising our kids.  It's also when CJ's absence simply kills me.  I constantly think about how if we were old school with his sisters, he was destined to be raised old OLD school.  This would be to the dismay of so many well meaning people who live to constantly remind us how things have changed in parenting. 

CJ would sit at the table with everyone for daily home cooked meals. When older, his lunchbox would have fresh fruit,  homemade granola bars, and preservative free sandwiches on fresh rye bread just like his sisters.  My boy would have been raised on a crazy mix of Polish/Mexican cuisine that we all enjoy. 

You see, my kitchen in the center of our home. It's were there is always plenty for unexpected guests.  Dinner menus are text out to guarantee the kids chill at home with me for a bit on a Friday night.  He would learn that at home the kitchen is a place to explore (like making our own granola bars), spend time together, keep traditions and create new ones,  comfort and nurture, and even work out our differences typically happen around the kitchen table.  Our table that has 6 chairs.  A constant reminder of our missing child.

Tomorrow there will be a crazy big pot of pezole simmering for dinner.  Big bowls of hot food will be ladeled out, kids laughter will fill the house, and I'll sit back and soak it all in.  One sweet missing giggle will hurt and probably bring a few tears.  CJ's one year anniversary didn't lessen my pain.  Instead it only reminds me of milestones he's not here to enjoy with us. I should be spooning my sweet 1 year old homemade soup tomorrow, not visiting his grave. 

For now I have slip the dishes left over to deal with for tonight's granola bar endeavor.  I spent an hour individually wrapping each one just right.  Next is tomorrow's lunches and prep for tomorrow's dinner.

Make dinner as a family.  Be thankful for the souls around your table and mindful of the missing.  But above all,  go old school.  Turn off the electronics, make eye contact, and embrace those sweet moments.  #doitforcj

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

#doitforcj today and always!

I can't help myself.  I tend to end up in conversations with perfect strangers anytime I am standing in the dreaded eternal Walmart line.

But before I even got that far today, 2 interactions I witnessed had me thinking.  First a mom had a toddler in a car watching a movie on an iPad.  I followed her down a few isles.  The only time she spoke to the child was to warn her if she talked, she would take the iPad away.  My heart broke for the child as well at the mom and the experiences they were missing out on together.

Next in the cosmetics isle, a very excited preteen was shopping for makeup with her dad who was in over his head, but trying.  As she asked him what he thought of the bright blue eye shadow she held up. I resisted the urge to giggle.  God bless him for being present!  I winked at him at I walked by and suggested to her how pretty the pale pink would look instead. She beamed at me as she happily switched to pink and dad mouthed "thank you" as I walked past.   Just taking care of my village I said to myself. Paying it forward.

I finally made it into a line and unloaded my cart. Just as I finished, I was ran into from behind with one of the motorized carts.  I actually lost my balance and fell backwards up against it just as she darted backwards in reverse.  I regained my balance laughing and turned around to find an elderly lady dressed to the nines looking mortified.  I laughed and told her no harm done and offered to empty her basket.  She was so thankful and we chatted while I stacked.  She asked my name, then replied she had a baby she named Jenny and she only lived a few months. I reached over and put my hands on hers and told her I was so sorry and I understand what it feels like to lose a child.  Her eyes filled with tears and she gasped "oh, no! What is your angel's name?".  I told her his full name and added that we call him CJ.  At this point the cashier is waiting for me to pay, but is too caught up in our conversation to complain.  My sweet new friends said to me "I'm going to thank God we meet today".

Me too, Ms. Annie. 

The cashier took my money and I noticed tears in her eyes. While I fumbled for keys, I watched as she loaded my new friend's cart and helped her dial her ride on her huge buttoned cell phone. The next gentleman in line stood smiling patiently. My village was feeling my little boy's love !!

How was your village today?  Did you engage or remain a silent observer?  I'm questioning if I should have engaged the toddler with the  electronic babysitter.  No day is perfect, but I can rest tonight knowing I tried. 

Tomorrow is another day to #doitforcj !!

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Another baby in a dumpster...

Some days hearing news of another baby found in a dumpster or abandoned is enough to make me hide crying at home.  It shakes me to my core.  I find my soul screaming WHY??? And in the next breathe I hurt so desperately for them I wish I could simply hug them.

So tonight you are going to learn part of my shocking truth.  While my political stance may differ, my personal beliefs for myself are prochoice.

Let's go back 22 years.  I was a freshman away at college at age 18 and pregnant by a boy I barely knew.  Terrified doesn't describe the fear I had. 

How many young women out there have had it drilled into their minds and hearts that if the were to get pregnant, their parents will "kill them"?  Or be disowned and left homeless/broke/alone?  How many have found themselves alone and terrified when parents follow through on these disgusting threats?

I'm going to challenge your hearts for a moment.  How is raising our girls terrified of becoming pregnant prolife?  How is bullying a young mother into hiding or aborting prochoice? 

We have created this disgusting trend of dead babies.  We as a society can battle until we are blue in the face our political stance on the topic.  We protest both sides of the discussion with gruesome signs or catchy slogans.  But when an 18 year old girl gets pregnant from a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, what do we really do as a society? A community? As human beings?

I am one of the lucky ones, but my parents were crushed and very embarrassed.  I thought I was making things right by agreeing to marry the baby's dad.  I went through the steps of a crazy fast wedding (didn't want that baby bump showing at the alter!) and once my name was changed, my parents allowed themselves to fall in love with their grandchild when she arrived, but not a moment sooner.

I was in a very violent situation with a new baby when I made the scariest decision of my life. I packed up a backpack and a diaper bag and left.  I had nowhere to go but back home.  They allowed us to live there while I divorced the monster and went back to college, but every moment I lived there I felt like their dirty little secret.  My daughter was the most loved little girl on earth, yet my own family couldn't get past how she came into this world. I felt the disapproval every moment of every day.  Our relationship was tarnished.

I could have easily been one of those girls giving birth in a bathroom.  Panicking and placing my baby in a ridiculous place.  I acknowledge that not to shock, but to put a face to the stories.  I am one of the lucky ones who somehow found the strength to face a family who felt humiliated and betrayed by my actions.  A baby was brought into this world to be absolutely the best thing I have ever done in my life. She changed everything.  My world as well as everyone around me.

I was the best story many had to gossip about.  I had broke up with the  stereotypical high school boyfriend for this guy?  My "friends" as well as their parents found plenty to chastise me for.  One parent even said to me if it had only been the old boyfriend, things wouldn't look so bad.

Bitch.

And I was one of the lucky ones.  My baby was loved.  Everyone fought over time with this precious child. I was part of the package that was tolerated.  Nobody encouraged me in a loving way. Instead I felt like a walking billboard for birth control.  I felt my entire village waiting for me to fail so they could swoop in and fix my mess again. To this day I over apologize for the most ridiculous things. From school, to work, to parenting, my every step was constantly scrutinized.  My right to privacy was somehow ripped out from under me because I was a young, single parent.

A few years of night school, working full-time, daycare/preschool, and I began to like myself and the life I was building for us. Around that time I began looking at apartments for us and making plans to finally stand on my own 2 feet.  That year I met my husband.  When I found my own spark again, was building towards a future, and liking getting up every morning, I was able to share my life with the man I never knew I was dreaming of.

But I will always be that 18 year old girl who was terrified.  My subsequent pregnancies never felt quite right.  I was always a bit embarrassed by my swelling belly.  The physical reminder of that horrible year brought great anxiety.  I would not allow anyone  to take pictures of me or touch my belly.  I felt such joy to have my children, yet embarrassment. 

With CJ, my age and maturity finally allowed me the ability to enjoy the little moments.  I let go of so many old feelings of inadequacy and marveled at the changes happening to my body.  That embarrassed 18 year old still lingered in the shadows, but I had better control over my emotions.

So why do these women make these incredibly horrendous decisions with their newborns?  I don't know.  But if I am one of the incredibly lucky ones, they must feel completely without options.  I hope to break this trend with my daughters. I pray I am succeeding in being an example of how to stand up for your beliefs. But most of all, they need to know that I will love and support them through every moment of life.  My heart is always open to them as well as my arms.  We will get through anything together.

I am breaking the cycle by talking not only about sex, but self esteem. We discuss the reasons girls find themselves in the arms of boys and how there are consequences for every action.  I concern them with honoring themselves and feeling good about the decisions they make instead of threatening them with isolating them from my love. Mix in a healthy dose of my faith and experience.  Watching your mom loose a baby in your teen years is an eye opening sneak peak into heartbreak. Reality is something we have been forced to deal with in our home in multitudes.

But what about those dumpster babies? We have created this mess.  We need to fix it.  Or we have to accept dead babies in dumpsters.

Food for thought from a teenage mom...

#doitforcj

Friday, September 5, 2014

Mourning more than just our past...

A very special lady who lost her first baby at 8 months has become someone I look up to.  Introduced online, he posts and blogs are so  beautifully positive yet honest.

After a busy day, I finally sat down to do a bit of work on my laptop and opened a window for fb to return a few messages.  The picture that popped up took my breath away.

The picture was of her newest child squatting on the ground touching the picture of his sister on her headstone.  These 2 beautiful children look so much alike and about the same age.  The moment was so sharply beautiful and I'm blessed to witness it.

What extremes.  To stand at your first child's grave with your youngest at the same age as when she was buried.  What strength in faith it must have taken to snap that picture. 

After a few moments smiling in awe, my reality knocked the wind out of me.  That sweet moment of life after loss I may never experienced. 

I have several moms that are such  beautiful examples of thriving after a loss. Every single one has a "rainbow". A rainbow is a living baby born after a loss.  While I can only imagine the anxiety of subsequent pregnancies, my jealousy of every single cherub face is starting to take a toll.

How do I end a chapter of my life with such tragedy?  Will I ever heal the way so many others seem to with the help of those rainbows? There's an ache of empty a arms that is often written about. There is no way to  understand that ache without living the nightmare of losing a child.

It's almost comical in a very dark humor sort of way. When you are 40 and have lost a baby, you never have to worry about people asking you if you plan to have more kids.  Nobody dares to encourage such an idea. The most hurtful comment I have endured was that I should look at this as a chance at a fresh start. Ouch.  Would that be said to a woman in her 20s? Doubtful. She would hear she can always try again. Every time I hear a young mom complain about that comment, I always think how they don't understand how blessed they are to have choices.

Tomorrow I will once again face another day without tiny feet to kiss. Teenagers will come and go and my husband will leave for work. I will be home mostly alone catching up on work and maybe even a bit of sewing.  My heart will ache with every beat. My arms with continue to throb in actual physical pain from being empty. My mind will follow along the unending conversation with my son that began when we shared a body.  On the outside I will be a woman gallantly surviving and thriving after the death of my child.  My soul knows better. 

Some dreams you just can't simply walk away from.  They haunt you every moment of your existence.  Please don't suggest I enjoy the children we already have, or suggest I begin to look forward to our future grandchildren. Those are givens that take absolutely no effort.

Whatever God has planned for us, I pray every day for the peace of heart to accept.  We are starting to make serious plans to relocate in a few years. Plans are a huge step for us. Just a few months ago we considered the same but decided it wasn't time.  We would have been running away.  To see a future is comforting. I'd like a quick peak into who we will be sharing our time on earth with, but for now we just have to leap and see what happens.  Open doors and open hearts will always be available to any soul God finds fit for our path.

As always, I pray for all of you to feel the love of my sweet boy and #doitforcj. 

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Tiny fingerprints

My TV doesn't have finger prints
Breakables sit on end tables,
And outlets are uncovered.

The staircase is unblocked
Jewelry is out loose on my nightstand
And a laptop is charging on the couch.

Our home is completely unbabyproofed.
There is no need.
Yet we have a 1 year old.

Do not tell me how you envy my life.
My quiet,  clean,  decorated  home
Missing the distinct messes of a toddler.

I would trade it all for tiny fingerprints.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Stupid comments

You all know how much I LOVE a stupid comment.   99% of things said to me are said from a place of love.  Even if it's awkward, I can appreciate the situation is awkward and feel so loved for the attempt.

But sometimes stupidity reigns it's ugly head.

I have received so many sweet gifts to help us remember CJ.  I love to share them like other parents get to share pictures of thier children.  I've never been a collector of anything,  so my growing owl collection makes me smile, and anything in his sweet memory touches my heart.

A bit ago,  the most beautiful owl drawing showed up in the mail on a really crummy day. I cried my eyes out when I opened it and couldn't wait to share.  This was a gift from a fellow baby loss mommy who has become a very special person to me.  I shared pictures before and after framing in complete gratitude.   The comments were so sweet and supportive.  I smile every time I walk by it framed on the wall.

This morning I shared a key chain the hospital gave me as a thank you from a speaking engagement.  Again,  the support was beautiful.  I think so many truly understand my gratitude and the comfort these things bring.

Then I got an inbox message.

"Maybe you should lay off collecting all these gifts from people.  Stuff won't bring your son back. "

No,  I didn't respond.   I simply clicked unfriend.

My only response I could come up with would be NO SHIT!!

I can not possibly show everyone how grateful I am every time you remember CJ.  The pictures of owls I get daily make me smile!  I love every single one and often those messages keep me from crumbling.  Every gift is cherished and put in a special place to bring us comfort and a smile.   Every card is saved and often I even print out messages to put in his scrap book. 

My 3lb10oz kiddo has moved mountains.  He has brought so much love into our lives.  Every time someone does something to comfort us, they are remembering him.   CJ's legacy of love continues to be infectious as people share with us how they #doitforcj.

So let me take a moment to thank all of our prayer warriors. That beautiful 99% that understand our desperate need to keep physical reminders of our son everywhere we look.   You are why I keep going every single day!  

Thank you
Thank you
Thank you

Xoxoxo. Jen

Monday, August 25, 2014

Get out of the damn house!!!

I have my days.  Those days when it's all just too much.  I cry and feel sorry for myself.  I've admitted to losing it in the cemetery and found myself on the ground next to my son singing to him through my tears.  Everyone knows about my sunglasses always propped on my head just in case. 

But one rule I follow is my 24 hour rule.  I must shower and leave the house once every 24 hours. 

This may seem like overkill, but I understand my limits have changed.  If I didn't put in this effort,  I could very easily turn into the crying lump on the couch. 

At first this wasn't easy.  My husband shared something with me weeks later that showed me how well he knows me.  When my doctor agreed to a c-section when I asked,  he gently nudged me towards laboring.   I will never regret going through the process and getting to push CJ'S beautiful body out of mine.  But what I didn't realize at the time was that Nate knew I would need to get out of the house.   Surgery would clip my wings for far longer than I have ever stood still.  That sweet man knew my survival depended on my independence.

Some days I just drive through for coffee or visit CJ. But more often now I'm enjoying my bit of time out of the house.  I still envy every stroller I see and need my emergency shades more than I care to admit.  With every outing I feel stronger to deal with difficult situations.  Nate and our kids are fantastic buffers when my anxiety gets the best of me.

Today my big adventure was driving Nate to work and stopping for dog food. Exciting, I know.   But hang on,  it does get amusing...

Walmart was my big destination. 99 cent DD iced coffee,  grabbed the cattlechow,  and I was ready for some serious isle cruising.  And of course,  my phone rings with a call I need to take.  

I wandered out to the garden center hoping for some privacy.  Bingo! It was empty.   I chatted at first as I pushed my cart in circles.  As the conversation lingered on,  I put my iced coffee down on a sample patio set to adjust the volume on my phone.  Then without thinking I sat down to continue my call.  20 minutes later my feet were up on another chair, tears were streaming down my face,  and I had left a big old water ring from my drink on the table.  As I hung up, I realized I had made myself at home and had to laugh.   As I was getting myself together to go back into the store a woman came around the corner pushing a cart. I smiled and went to walk by her.  She mumbled under her breathe "were you waiting for a refill? ".  She was obviously annoyed.

For once I was struck speachless.  As I went back to isle cruising,  it hit me.   I had gotten my refill. That call was a chance to talk about CJ.  The voice on the other end of the phone was asking me sincere questions about my son and my journey.   My soul was refilled.

Having a crappy day? Get out of the house.  Don't forget your shades.
#doitforcj

Saturday, August 23, 2014

A house full of family

What a great day!  A great friend came over with her kiddos (plus a few extra teens were here celebrating Skye's birthday). Hubby working,  9 females,  1 beautiful baby boy,  1 angel boy smiling over all of us, fried pickles, a huge pot of spaghetti and awesome dessert fruit pizza.   Serious giggles and insanity. 

Family

Just a bit before they came over I was on the phone with a very special cousin.  My heart was heavy over some really ridiculous inlaw drama.   She reassured me that it's ok to not to always like everyone you are related to and brought my attention back to how blessed we are with "family".  Blood lines do not define "family". Love does. And we are seriously blessed with an abundance of family related to us and adopted.

So today I looked around at my crowded kitchen full of happy faces and truly felt loved.   Teenagers yelling over eachother,  a baby to pass around, and a sweetheart of a friend agreeing with my behavior even if I could do better.  With her, there is no pressure to be anything less what I am.  

Flawed,  short tempered,  open hearted, miserably optimistic, and often a hot mess! 

But loved.  Very very loved.


Happy birthday to our Skyelar Elizabeth!   Our youngest daughter,  Skye blesses us every day with her huge heart, hysterical sense of humor, and compassion beyond anything I have ever witnessed. 

#doitforcj