Identity theft

Yesterday while running errands I ran into another parent who's name slipped my mind.  I smiled and asked " Rachel's mom, right?  I'm Skye's mom".  She looked up and returned the smile as we made quick small talk about how we liked our new house, the girls keeping in contact via technology, etc.  Last I saw her I was happily pregnant.  The girls are close friends so I know she had heard our story.   The chatter was quick and cheerful. I started to walk away while saying goodbyes (a trick I've learned to keep a distance and not give people a chance to lean in for the condolences/hugs that still hurt so badly). 

While driving, I laughed when her name finally came to me. How many times had we shared carpool duties, feed eachother's kids, and kept a watchful eye on them? We were never close, but definitely friendly. Our morals/values/faith were in alignment making it easy to rely on eachother when it came to the girls in those middle school years.

Soon after we lost CJ, I was stopped by an elderly while shopping who kindly approached me and asked "are you CJ's mom?".  She had recognized me from church.  Being too fresh in grief, her words shattered me that day.

Over the past 21 years my identity had often been labeled as Kate/Tori/Skye's mom.  It was an easy role to fall into that I adore. Of course when the girls were in those early attention demanding phases, I would feel overwhelmed and a loss of myself.  I wanted to scream "I have a name! And it IS NOT  Mom!!!"

Recently on a long weekend with my dh working, I had enough.  "mom" seemed to be every other word coming out of the girls' mouths.  Their teenage whining, complaining, snitching, and arguing had pushed me to my breaking point.  I made a decision.  I was no longer mom.  I was Juanita!

Juanita took over because mom had hit her breaking point. I stopped answering to mom, and told them mom was gone. Juanita was in charge.  Juanita was fun loving, didn't give a crap about chores, said yes to whatever they wanted without having to deal with the aftermath.  She refused to referee, listen to gripes, or yell. She doesn't cook, clean, help with homework, or do laundry. She simply acted like a guest on the couch laughing at their antics and reminding them mom would be back and SHE would kick their ass...  Not Juanita- she just didn't care!

So at first they thought I had finally lost my mind. But very quickly they figured out a lack of mothering sucked. This went on for several hours. They kept asking when mom was coming back, and I happily ignored them and enjoyed my alter ego.

Don't we all need that break occasionally?  From our perceived identity and our reality? 

I realize as time goes by, less and less will I be recognized as "CJ's mom".  Parenting an angel is a tremendous task.  The hardest part for me is the anonymity.  Probably the only time someone will ever ask me "are you CJ's mom?" was that sweet lady I crumbled in front of in the middle of Walmart.

As I tackle all of these identities, the one missing will always hurt the most. 
I AM Katie/Tori/Skye's mom
AND
I AM CJ's Mom.

And by the way, my name is Jen.

#doitforcj

A simple refection in my laptop is all I have to share tonight...

spiking the Tang

For everyone who has been disappointed that there has been a lack of liquor in recent posts, this one is for you!

You know those days that you find yourself sitting at the kitchen table with High School Musical blaring in the next room drinking a beer glass full of Tang/ Grey Goose through a striped straw wondering what the hell happened to your quiet day?  Well, that's where I am right now... add a messy pony tail, bright blue leggings I wouldn't be caught dead in out of the house and a big denim shirt and you have the idea of what the atmosphere is here!

I had a hard night.  I kept dreaming that I packed CJ away in one of those boxes his belongings went into this week.  A few times I even walked in there just to prove to myself he wasn't just waiting for me to find him.  Dreams can be cruel.  They give you a quick confused moment of believing a real tragedy was simply a small mistake.  It must be my mind's way of protecting me from something so horrific it can't even relive it.  Thinking of it that way makes me ALMOST thankful for these dreams.

Add on a couple of kiddos who needed some firm reminders of the very few chores they have by clipping their winds for the night, and the mood here was teetering of crashing when dh left for work. Yet things were quiet.  I pulled out a project I have trying to complete for months while running a dozen loads of laundry.

Then it happened. In the blink of an eye the pup went into frantic/desperate barks at the back door that I have never heard from her before.  Then the screaming.  I didn't think I could still move that fast as I darted into the kitchen expecting to find yet another life altering disaster.  What I found was a small opossum staring up at us from under the back door stoop.  That sliding glass door could have been made of bullet proof glass and the screaming that ensued wouldn't have differed.  Me and 2 teenage girls screaming at the top of our lungs over a rodent that looked like she has had better days.  Of course my knee jerk reaction was to get dh on the phone, which just confused matters worse as he listened to screaming and hysterical laughing with none of us able to convey what the situation was for several moments. 

Within the next few minutes, I manage to grab a camera to snap proof of the monster, send a text to a neighbor who sends over 2 more teens to "help", call  Animal Control who inform me they only deal with cats/dogs/horses, and when all else fails placed a call to my favorite rescue president friend praying she would have the connection to get rid of this animal.  All of these actions did nothing more but give everyone on the receiving end of my hysterics a chance to laugh at me.  And I admit, I laughed along.  A few hours later, I have resigned myself to the fact that she is still hanging out under the stoop, the poor dogs desperately have to pee, and tomorrow I will be driving to some rural location to purchase a live trap somewhere from a man in overalls and flannel.

This is my life now.  Notice a simple dog barking has me convinced that something life altering was about to unfold before my eyes?  That is how life unfolds for me every day.  I used to blame it all on anxiety, but I'm learning that this sense of doom is so much more.

faltering faith. 

diminished hope.

Ouch.  Both values that I hold very close to my heart.  Faith.  Hope.  The very aspects of my life that have kept me breathing through the hardest recovery period I pray I ever have to survive. 

At my most faithful moments of my life, I have been able to put life in God's care.  I had a very happy go lucky view that nothing TOO bad would ever happen to me.  How could it?  I gave my heart to Jesus,  I believed in the Holy Trinity with all of my heart and knew my glory would be an afterlife with my Savior.  Guess what?  I was a fool.  Faith is not the promise of protection.  It is a promise of salvation at the end of this life.  I am still struggling with that lesson, but the anger in my heart lessons every day. I can't comprehend why God took CJ from me, but I know he is holding him close.

I think hand in hand with my fairytale version of faith came an abundance of hope.   A naïve form of hope that let me live day to day with such optimism that it would all work out.  I viewed being hopeful has a way of wishing my will into existence.  Well, God showed me the error in that one.  I will always feel a bit of guilt that I may have ignored something that may have tipped me off.  That there were signs, and although I told my doctors, I accepted their  reassurance too easily.  I had such hope in my heart for a beautiful baby boy in my arms, that the risks and reality of the situation were not really absorbed. 


Oh, Christian. I hope with all my heart that you are looking down on me knowing how desperately I love you.  If my guard was down and I missed the signs that you were in trouble, I pray you can forgive me.  That is my burden to carry until the day I die...

So the kids have spent the evening home without the company of friends/boyfriends (except the 20 min the neighborhood was trying to get the monster out from under the porch.) as a "punishment" for lack luster chores/housework.  My exhausted soul has allowed movies and laughter.  I suck at grounding... My wine stock has been depleted as well as the pantry, hence the beer glass filled with powder tang/vodka.  Tomorrow I need to put on pants and tackled grocery shopping. But until then, I'm going to refill my glass and try to find the humor in such a ridiculous day.  Bright blue leggings and all...

#doitforcj

 quick side note- holy crap!! over 4k blog views?  I purposely try not to check those counts.  I thought they meant very little to me.  But over 4k??  thank you!  please share anything you find may bring hope to a hurting mommy's soul.  Or anyone that could just use to know they are not the only one struggling through this life.  Let's get to tomorrow together.  we WILL #doitforcj

Home

It will never be quite the same.  Every emotion imaginable has been shared within these walls.

Home.

I am coming to the realization that "home" is not something you can run away from.  The memories and feeling that fill you when you walk in through the front door fill you back up when you leave.  I tried to escape today.  After a long day of going through CJ's things yesterday, I needed to give my heart a break.

I ran myself into the ground driving many miles and making too many stops. My feet hurt, our home is disheveled, and I almost dread being here tomorrow even more.  The girls will go to school, dh to work, and I will be here to deal with the quiet.  Again.

CJ is with me every second.  I talk to him with my heart all day long.  A change of scenery doesn't weaken that.  It actually strengthens it.  With every step my conversations with him keep me moving forward.  He is acquiring nicknames just like our girls did.  It feels natural for our relationship to follow so effortlessly.

Yesterday was hard.  Folding stacks of onsies and footie pjs that were never worn seemed very cruel.  Boxing up cases of diapers, toys, and baby basics that were never used.  Nobody should ever have to tackle such a painful project.  I received so many sweet notes and comments of encouragement that helped keep me going.

So tonight we set up a bed for the college kid in Florida this semester.  Why the rush?  Basically it felt as if all of our children need to have a physical place of rest in our home. Our 2 highschoolers have typically chaotic teenage girl rooms. CJ's room is finally a place for all of us, which left the guest/craft/storage/college kid room. You may have followed this week as I tackled the clutter.  When it was done, it was bothering me that she didn't have a bed.  Ikea for a cheapo futon solved that problem!  And my heart is smiling.

I look forward to the summer when our oldest will be home.  To have all of these beds empty as we snuggle up on the couch under blankets for our infamous movie nights. 

Because you see, this is still home.  And I will fight to make sure every kid feels it in her heart.  I want to fill up their souls with so much laughter and love that it lasts when we are separated. It should feel sacred, safe, comforting, and familiar. 

So the next time I'm overwhelmed, chances are I'll escape for several hours of driving/shopping.  But I'll always return to be filled back up.  My sweet boy will nudge me back when I've run far enough.  And tomorrow when the anxiety of being here alone begins to set in,  I'll try remember how I am absolutely not alone.  I'm embraced by the love of the people who make these walls a home.

#doitforcj

The crib stays!

Sitting in CJ's room in a puddle of tears is nothing new. Today I added a big overstuffed chair from downstairs.  I just needed a comfy place to come in here and snuggle and even cry.

His clothes are all perfectly folded into boxes and stacked into the closet.  I moved the empty dresser out to make room for the chair.  His crib still stands under the string art we did for him on the wall. Stuffed teddy bears line the shelves- most gifts from DH in our early years.

Out the window I can see the home of a sweet friend.  Her baby born 2 weeks before CJ is in her arms tonight.  It doesn't feel fair at all.  CJ was prayed for.... So many years of prayer.  He was conceived out of so much love and prepared for joyously with all of our hearts.  So many things feel so unfair. I sit here reminded how loved he will always be.

I know some family would prefer me to take down the crib, pack up the room and pretend this chapter is over while I "move on".  Some closest to me have stopped mentioning him and their discomfort when I do is palpable. Many have cut all contact with us.  How can I possibly forget my son? Why would I want to? Why would anyone?

So many things I just don't understand.  Maybe I never will.

Tonight i'm going to spike my next drink and dive into sewing some new pillows for the nursery.  I think owls would be perfect!  And if you wonder why our nursery is still set up, it's because I have a son named CJ.  And I love to spend time with my sweetpea in his room where we listen to music, read, or even share our love with all of you.  As long as this room brings comfort, it will stay.

So don't even suggest it. CJ is in our lives forever :)

#doitforcj

New doors...

There wasn't a door there.  When we moved in, we decided to make a bedroom for college kid/future guestroom or den out of the dining room.  We looked at the floorplan on the first floor and decided we have plenty of space. We walled off one part and added a new door in the kitchen.  My creativity was running wild when I asked my contractor/dh to leave an open space over the door for a decorative metal touch (that I've yet to find).  The wall was framed to easily install French doors when it no longer needs to be bedroom #5.  It was built to grow with us.

So now we have the opposite situation.  We have less than expected living under our roof. College kid took an internship at wdw for the semester. CJ is not here to occupy the nursery. Most nights we find our other 2 daughters sharing a room.  Everyone just needs to feel close to someone.  5 bedrooms/2 typically occupied.  We built walls and installed a door to create unused spaces.  What do we do with that?

Unfortunately clutter is starting to accumulate in the unused room. I had big plans to sew in there, but the isolation from the rest of the house is unnerving. I wonder if we will ever exhale and spread into the corners again.

Maybe uncertainty is ok for now.  Holding on close to eachother physically while we heal emotionally.  I feel CJ most present when we are together. I'm going to embrace that new door this week. That room represents plans we had for our family. It's time to open that door and embrace the space! Stay tuned for an update later this week while I #doitforcj!!. 

Crazy extravagance

Obviously our life has changed.  With mounting health issues during my pregnancy, I was forced to leave a very stressful job.  That leaves us with 1 income for the first time in many years.  Even just working part time, my check covered the small expences that we never gave much thought to.  Kids clothing/school and extracurricular expences, pet needs, impromptu take out...  With that income gone extras are nonexistent. 

So when my best gold chain broke, I was heartbroken.  It is a beautiful white gold boxchain that I wear a diamond studded heart on.  I do not own a lot of expensive jewelry, so these 2 pieces are very special to me.

Before Christmas we dropped it off for repair at the jewelry shop. I have thought of it often, but knowing we owed $30 for the repair I just could bring myself to pick it up.

Today cabin fever had me climbing the walls.  DH must have sensed my breaking point was close because he offered an escape in a snowstorm for window shopping.

We roamed a furniture store for awhile then stopped for a burger.  This alone was a big treat knowing we had plenty of left overs at home.  When we finally headed home, he pulled into the jewelry store lot and handed me $40.  Excitement doesn't describe how I felt.  Do not read into this that I needed permission.  Anyone who knows me knows that I am far from submissive. But taking from our family when things are so tight is very difficult for me.  For a brief moment, I allowed myself to be selfish. 

I know that $40 in his pocket was allocated to something else.  Just like the bit in mine is.  But for one sweet moment, we were back to being a dating couple spoiling eachother.

I need to bring more of those moments back into our life.  CJ has taught us how precious love is.  How every day we have eachother is such a gift.  I want my family to feel special every single day.  They have been my saving grace through the biggest nightmare.  They deserve to feel special, loved, and appreciated. 

That's my goal this week. To #doitforcj.  How about you??

An almost perfect day

Another busy day.  The big highschool turnabout dance was finally here!  7 girls dressed and prepped prior before 3 handsome young men joined us for pictures.  A packed conversion van full of laughter and dad at the wheel delivered the precious cargo, and picked up after.  I greeted them when they returned (plus a few extra) with a hot meal and a scary movie. 

We sat at the kitchen table soaking in their infectious energy as they jumped and screamed watching the remake of an old horror flick. The dh is still down there at 1:30am ready to personally escort the last handsome young man home!

Watching our sophmore happily hang out with her freshman sister and friends all day was so neat to see.  Our girls have managed to be friends, not just sisters.  Often we see one easily assimilate to the other's circle of friends so effortlessly.  They truly enjoy spending time with eachother which has blossomed since we lost CJ. What an incredible blessing for them. Just one of so many blessings CJ brought to our lives! I wish I knew the secret to how that relationship has developed.  I hope somehow we had a hand in it!

So as I happily crawl into satin pjs and a warm bed, I'm left with just one thought...

Today was ALMOST perfect.  Missing you like crazy my sweet little CJ!! #doitforcj

Crazy nights...

It's a typical night here.  We came home from bball kid's game with bags of take out and extra teens hanging out.  Excitement of tomorrow's dance fills the house as text msgs fly back and forth figuring out who is getting dressed where.  I listened to our guest list grow and grow, not minding a bit.

The extra kids call me mom.  They wear rubber bracelets with CJ's name.  I'm kissed and hugged the way only teen girls know how to do.  They ask me how I am and truly want to hear the answer.  Tears are not uncommon when one of them looks at CJ's pictures framed with the others.

It's a comfortable rhythm.  Easy banter and teasing as we eat, watch Dirty Dancing, and relax.  Dancing breaks out as they reenact scenes from the movie, then an impromptu dance lesson to Mexican music by the most Mexican of the 4 of them.  More laughter...

This is how we keep life moving. It would be so easy to get stuck. To stop living in a place where it seemed like life was over.  I may have been a mascara smeared, baggy sweats, overtired, erratic mess on the couch, but we didn't lock the world out.  Home may have been my safe place to fall apart, but it was also an open invitation to anyone who could handle seeing us that way.

Never underestimate the capacity a teenager has to love.  Or their ability to empathize even in situations way beyond their experience.  Their hearts and so much more open than the average adult.  I have learned so much about how to put my guard down and love someone in pain. They have reminded me of the power of a hug, how it's ok to sit too close, and that laughter is ok even with tears. 

This weekend is a tornado of activities and appointments. My heart is heavy for CJ.  I picture him with us nomatter what we are doing.  But this crazy pack that encases us... They will push me forward.  Highschool dance pictures later. We will #doitforcj

Say his name

Christian

Jonathan

Cruz

Aguilar

CJ as we lovingly nicknamed him.  I was chatting with a "friend" recently who stated she didn't refer to my son as CJ because "putting a name to it made it too real."

So let's clear the air.  While the State of Il and the IRS do not acknowledge the existence of our son, we do.  He isn't an it or a thing.  He is a child of God.  He IS our son, not was our son.  While he waits for us in heaven, we carry him with us every second of every day.  We will talk about him and cry for his absence until the day we die. He is no more or less important than any of our children.

So many sweet, caring, generous, loving relationships have blossomed as I have shared CJ.  But unfortunately we have also learned who is in our lives for the right reasons.  Not just the good times when the beer is cold and big screen on, but those times when your house stinks from dirty laundry and the weeds are knee deep in the flower beds.  Those who continued to call/write/pray/stop by... YOU are our angels.  You have seen us in our grungy ugliest chapter and loved us through it.  We have shared CJ to have him embraced and cherished in this crazy community.  And you continue to say his name.

Thank you!

It seems fitting to take a moment to thank everyone still following along on this crazy journey 6 months later.  Please never hesitate to comment or message me.  I am JUST a mom.  Nothing super human or angelic.  Ask me questions that linger and I will try to answer here.  Every mom that shares her story gets me through another day.  Every note just telling me to hold on is another link in the chains holding me up.  Just by being here, YOU are part of our story.

So tonight, I'm hanging up my supermom cape.  The kids that are home are having potpies, while I am indulging in fried pickles.  Life will continue to go on even if we skip the veggies tonight (but I will argued pickles are cucumbers and potpies have peas and carrots!) We said CJ's name lots today.  We also wiped lots of tears.  But tomorrow we will continue this journey knowing you all have our backs and your prayers push us forward. Never stop saying my son's name.

#doitforcj
Jen

Happy 6 month angelversary CJ.  I hope heaven is full of toy trucks and puppies!  We love you sweet boy... Mommy  xoxoxo

Hard days

We try not to verbalize too much on a hard day.  Words bring sobs.  When you have survived a nightmare, keeping it together becomes priority.  It's a survival tactic.  Tears will inevitably fall but the goal is to continue functioning.

So today we did what comes naturally.  We ran.  Out of the house full of memories to a flooring place (which we couldn't even fathom affording right now).  An unsuspecting salesman was put through the ringer with hypothetical questions as the poor kid jumped through hoops in hopes of a nice commission.  Then eventually my husband went to work early and I came home to fall apart.

A simple Facebook update on his part tells me he is struggling as much as I am today.  It sucks.  It hurts.  But somehow we will plow through the day and end up exhausted cuddled up in bed together later.  He will snore as I once again sob.

How do we keep going?  I have no idea.  I could share thoughts on hope, peace, and love, but today I just don't have it in me.  This journey is not fair.  There is no right/wrong way to get through it.

So maybe tonight I will have sweeter words and descriptions of dreams to share.  For now, I'm going to spend some time with my son in his room. Rocking in his rocking chair, looking at his crib, and praying for the strength to take my next breath.  Then I will pull it together and head out for a high school basketball game and typical after school chaos.  One crappy sunglassed moment at a time.

#doitforcj

Adios brittle ends!

There are social situations I avoid like the plague.  Times where I'm forced into idol chit chat with strangers.  My typically social personality has been replaced by an ability to be perfectly happy sitting by myself and watching the world go by.

The hair salon brings on ridiculous amounts of anxiety.  So much that I have not had a professional haircut since early summer.  There was no way I was returning to the same women who laughed with me as CJ kicked so much I had to ask her to stop so I could stand up for a moment.  And starting over with someone new... You just know the question of children will come up.  Yes, its a ridiculous worry, but one I have easily avoided while my hair had grown very long (for me).

Yesterday my daughter desperately needed a trim and had been stalking me for side bangs for weeks.  We popped in without an appointment to a typical stripmall chain salon. I decided to brave the chair myself.

As the very chatty (God help me!) stylist washed my hair, she commented on how lucky I was to have such thick hair.  I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy the warm water in the hopes she would pick up on my clues to massage my scalp quietly.  No luck-she continued. 

She told me that the only time her hair got thick was when she was pregnant at 40. Hmmmm.... Now she had my attention.  Then she pulled her fingers back and they were entangled in lots off loose hair.  The shedding joys of being post hormonal.  I swear this woman knew my secret at that moment. She became very quiet, but kind.  She slowed down her process, and even rubbed my temples quietly as my tears began to fall.  I felt her turning her body to see if my 16 year old was within eyesight.  Then she did the sweetest thing I can ever imagine... She told me SHE needed me to sit still for a few minutes while she deep conditioned my hair, placed a warm washcloth over eyes, and quietly chatted about the weather while I cried under that towel for a few moment.  I felt her hand on my shoulder as she whispered "ready to rinse?  I can wait."  I took a deep breath and said I was ok.

The rest of the time in her chair she happily chatted away while slowly I slipped into the easy, casual banter that usually causes such anxiety now. She quietly dropped a few handfuls of loose hair nonchalantly.  I was tempted to explain. The poor woman may have thought I was a cancer patient.  But the words escaped me and she wasn't looking for an explanation.

How simply this angel was put in my path.  In our brief encounter she protected a grieving mommy's broken heart without even knowing.  I left with my spirit energized.  I received a simple trim of brittle ends in so many ways.

Have you found an opportunity to share your light today?  To allow hope a chance to bubble up for someone without explanation?  I challenge you to #doitforcj

be the light

6 months lurks just around the corner.  We began the week with mass at our church lovingly celebrated in CJ's honor.  By coincidence, the Bishop said mass.

His homily was about light. It struck me that every time he said "light", my heart heard "hope".

He began by explaining in today's world of suburban life, light is taken for granted.  With the flip of a switch we get what we want.  Yet in the times of Jesus, light source was oil lamps.  Oil was used sparingly and cautiously.  Light was respected, needed, desired, and even coveted.  The harder life was by your social standing, the less light you typically used.

He then encourages us to view ourselves as a lantern.  His imagery of being the light in a dark night struck me.  My initial inclination was to think of how many people have stepped forward to light our darkness when our lamps ran empty. 

Then after a few moments of thought I realized I was missing the more important part of the message. That WE should be the light for others.  How preposterous is that??  Once again I am being asked to give, when I feel like there is nothing more to be taken from me??

The message swirled around my mind and I will admit to frustration and even anger this afternoon.  But then I stopped stewing and started looking around...

A neighbor teen that calls me "mom" had a difficult day.  I didn't hesitate to text her words of encouragement and love.  A few hours later college kid's bf stopped by for a free meal and 3 hr chat.  My own girls excitedly chatted about friends/school/activities all evening as we shared what's going on in our lives.  Even in my grief, I was managing to share my light. I was smiling, listening, encouraging, and loving all of these incredible young adults, and in return they fuel me to burn brighter.

Be the light for someone this week.  CJ's 6 month angelversary is the 13th.  In his honor, I would love for us to light the world!  Take the time to spread hope to a heart needing rescue.  By being a light for others, I promise you own personal soul will be filled.  And don't forget to tell me and tweet all about it!  ;) #doitforcj

daydreams

"Allow yourself to daydream".  This was the advice I got from a fellow baby loss mommy tonight. 

(She is probably reading along right now, so hello my sweet new friend!)

I am relearning and finally living a life lesson I have struggled with.  I was brought up to be very concerned of what others think.  My parents are wonderful, faithful people.  Conservative and cradle Catholics.  Needless to say we have not always seen eye to eye.  But amazingly when I began to let go of worrying about it and voicing my own beliefs, tensions were lessened.  They may not always agree with me, but there is mutual respect instead of the teenage disdain I dragged them through.

So here is my biggest daydream.  Nothing would fill my heart like adding to our family. (breathe, everyone! It's going to be ok!)

I am constantly asked if CJ was an "accident".  Why is that an appropriate question to ask a mother?  To me it's obscene.  Our child was a gift from God that was sent to us after many years of disappointments.  Does that answer that question already??

With all of that being said, I'm going to allow myself to daydream.  Physically pregnancy is very hard on me.  Blood pressure and heart issues had me in weekly appointments/biweekly scans.  I was placed on disability from a very stressful job.  But that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy my time with CJ.  He was probably the only pregnancy I truly enjoyed.  He was such a miracle and every day I felt blessed.

So I'll daydream about precious little kicks. Of feeling my husband's hand on my belly at night as we giggle at the acrobatics.  And of our girls getting to hold their sibling with smiles on their faces as they experience the sighs and sounds of a sweet newborn.

Gasping that I'm 40?  Or that my kids are almost grown?  Well, I'm letting go of caring and allowing myself to daydream.  Daydreams are the hopes of our heart.  How can I possibly push aside hope?

#doitforcj

"let's win this for Mother Russia!"

The last 2 days I have struggled. A combination of cabin fever and the reality of ordering CJ's headstone have taken a toll.

Last night the girls and I made a big treat of bacon cheeses fries for dinner and snuggled up in the family room to watch the opening ceremonies to the Olympics.  This pretty much turned into us critiquing each county's outfits.

We were all tired. It had been a long week and that night alone we didn't get home until almost 8 from a basketball game.  Just when they were starting to doze in front of the tv, our 14 year old puts her fists in the air and yells in her best thick Russian accent "we will win this for Mother Russia!".

Insane giggling followed.  Tension release for all of our heavy hearts and minds. 

That's how life is for us now. We push through to the point of exhaustion. It's like getting through what used to be a typically busy day, but now you do it wearing cement weights around your ankles that nobody acknowledges. They rub your skin in raw and are visible to the world, but nobody comments.  They look past you when making idle chit chat and never mention it.  Then eventually one of us can't take the painful silence anymore and losses it for just long enough to make us all realize the joy in life.  Only those living with the same burden can understand the effort it takes to allow joy in while being so weighted down.

JOY.  yes, joy.  It's still there, hiding but waiting for those brief moments of silliness.  They surface more some days than others. 

So try to not look so confused when you see us in hysterical giggles over something ridiculous. Yes, we are in pain.  A huge part of our life right now is surviving.  We miss CJ in everything we do. At games, I picture him with me in his car seat. Walking through the parking lot,  I thought about the balancing act of not slipping on the ice while holding him. Home in front of the Olympics, he should have been snuggled in our arms. The busier I am, the more I feel his absence.

A bit off topic here, but at yesterday's game the opposing team gave out thier "Best Fan"award at half time.  A teenage boy with Downs was honored. The team took a group picture with him after high 5s and hugs all around.  The weight I carry doubled as I watched.

Today we have a team lunch, dance lessons, and typical Saturday errands.  I have my weights on.  If you bump in to me, please don't hesitate to let me rest and laugh for a moment or two!

here we go, CJ.  Another day without you. I will get through because I promise to #doitforcj .

thinking about how it all started

Almost 20 years ago, I was a single mom of a toddler determined to never put my guard down with a man again.  A last minute babysitter left me free to go to a local bar with a girlfriend. Who knew that last minute decision would change my life forever!

This quiet, tall, handsome, young man was introduced to me by his cousin who I happened to work with.  After a quick hello we kept walking and staked out some space a few yards away. 

A waitress came up to me with a smile.  She pointed at that handsome young man and told me he had a stack of $20s in his pocket and told her to keep bringing me whatever I wanted.  She and I brilliantly decided she would bring me 1 cheap longneck  at a time and we would split the change from each $20.  I went over to thank him and dragged him onto the dance floor a few drinks in.  He looked terrified, but dutifully danced with me for a few min. 

The rest of the evening I spent with an old school friend.  I really didn't give that nice guy much thought.

The next day I emptied my pockets and found a crazy amount of loose singles and a business card from a dj.  Talk about making a girl wonder what the hell she did the prior night!! My scheme with the waitress turned out to be a profitable one!  The business card was thrown in a drawer and I didn't give it much thought.

2 weeks later his cousin approached me at work and assured me the handsome guy was harmless and was asking for my number.  I remember telling her sure-he seemed like the kind of guy that would make sure me and my friends got home safe at night.

A few nights later, I was lying in bed and every few second the phone would barely ring.  (this was back in the ice ages when we only had landlines).  After several times, I was annoyed but able to grab it in time.  It was the dj who's card I found in my pocket- my future husband. This was early October, he would put a ring on my hand Valentine's Day!

If you would have asked me back then what my future held, I would have said a content life raising my daughter alone.  I viewed our life as a mirror image of a Gilmore Girls episode (google that one youngsters!).  I had lost hope and much of my faith in anything bigger for myself then happy solitude.

I viewed being hopeful as a sign of weakness.  I had no intention of letting myself get lost in "love" or "hope"ever again.  My goal was to be strong and independent.  Funny how hope has been such an intricate storyline for me for so many years.

20 years later, I am back
to square one.  Guarded, wanting to be fiercely independent, and having momentary lapses in faith and hope.  And yet possibilities are fluttering all around me.  My tall/dark/handsome husband still keeps me safe around every turn.  He is my fierce protector, best friend, and love of my life. As he coaxes me back out of my shell, I look into his eyes and I'm 21 all over again.  Scared, tired, guarded, but looking forward to the hopes we are rebuilding for the future.

Thank you God for bringing this man into my life. 

#doitforcj

puppy love

Sitting here with our newest puppy is making me laugh.  What was a small ball of fur had grown into a 6 month old moose!  Her sweet little paws have grown to "Scooby Doo"" status according to my husband.  she is pushing 30 pounds of craziness.  Absolutely obsessed with playing squeaky ball, she has scratched my arms raw the past few weeks trying to prompt me to play!  She has to be watched like a hawk to avoid typical puppy disasters.  But she loves us with all of her crazy heart. We have all fallen under her spell.

But in all honesty, she wasn't in the plan.  We had a beautiful, mellow, easy going chocolate lab.  At 15 years old she still managed to destroy the trash once a week and swim in the pond like a champ.  She was the perfect dog for CJ, so she left us to join him the week after he passed away. 

We had so many plans, and with the blink of an eye everything changed.  Our oldest daughter is out of state on a semester internship instead of downtown finishing her junior year of college. I'm unemployed.  We moved into a 5 bedroom house expecting it to be brimming with the people we love, and instead many weekends I'm here alone. 

Not alone actually.  I have the dogs.  College kiddo's cocker spaniel, and our crazy Bonnie pup. 

So when you make plans, what do you do when the rug is ripped out from under your feet?  When life seems so unfair and cruel, where do you begin to put a new plan in action?

You take a deep breath, let the tears flow, and allow some crazy love back into your life.

Get a puppy!   Allow yourself some craziness.  #doitforcj

Thank you!!!

"if everyone keeps breathing, nobody will faint".  These are the words our priest whispered to us at the alter the day we were married!  One of our favorite quotes all these years later.

Keep breathing.  Words we whisper to eachother often.  Today I saw my ob.  We talked about CJ like we always do, and she asked me how we have managed to not only survive, but bloom.  We spoke about faith, love, and hope.  But in the end, I explained that we just keep breathing.

I have had a hard couple of days.  Sleep has not come easy and the nights have been long and restless. With me unemployed, my husband had taken on the financial brunt of getting us through these hard times.  I have struggled with a loss of independence that comes with helping provide for my family. Preparing our tax return had also brought on a tidalwave of emotions with CJ not being acknowledged. 

While I sat fighting tears in front of a stack of financial documents and my laptop, my phone beeped with a message.  I read the words over and over.  Then, with tears rolling down my cheeks and I finally took a breath.  An angel was taking a burden off of my plate.  With a chunk of the weight on my chest being lifted, I could breathe.  And what do you know... Hope snuck right up through the cracks!

With all of the help, love, support, and prayers we have been gifted with, we have survived.  I will pay it forward for the rest of my life.  The lessons that CJ has brought to so many need to continue to be shared.  If I can help other grieving parents,  I will share our story for the rest of my life!

I started CJ's page and this blog as a place of hope.  Little did I know how many examples of selfless love I would experience. Thank you my angels for simply sharing this journey with me.  It doesn't matter if I know you personally or not, YOU are an incredible blessing in my life.  I humbly ask you keep those prayers coming as we continue to put the pieces back together.  #doitforcj

keeping all of my angel readers in thankful prayer tonight, especially a special soul who brought hope to my heart ...

Jen  xoxoxo

Regrets..

I try not to dwell on regrets, but a few haunt me.

I do not have very many photographs of CJ.  None of his sweet bare head or toes.  If you know my background, you know how insane that is.  If I would have just used my cell phone...  If I had chosen a friend for my husband to call that would have come running without a second thought... 

I should have spent more time holding my baby.  I felt rushed (by my own fault). I should have insisted he stay with me for the night.  I should have made memories-rocked him, sang to him, given him a bath, held him on my shoulder, and dressed him how I wanted to take him home.

I shouldn't have rushed the process of saying goodbye.  I should have waited a few days before making arrangements so my husband wouldn't have to do it alone. I should have agreed to a wake. 

There are a million others.  They haunt me in the middle of the night.  Last night brought lots of tears as it all came flooding back again.

I did the best that I could at that moment.  I've heard and said those words a million times.  It helps lessen the guilt knowing how true that is, but regrets will always be there.

I read another mommy's post recently that made a remarkable point.  She stated:

Stillbirth is the only time where a loving mother is an active participant in her child's death. 

Those words stayed with me all night.  Miscarriage is a heartbreaking time to go through.  Many do not know this, but we have been there.  But carrying a baby who is far enough to survive outside of your body, finding out he is dead, then laboring to still bring him into the world kills a piece of you in the process.  To look into the beautiful perfect face of your son who looks to be sleeping, and have to accept the fact that he is dead... Nobody could manage that without regrets.

Even the language hurts. Stillborn.  Dead. Grave.  Each simple word rips at your soul. People suggest softer words, but why sugar coat it?  I realize my language may be harsh and even shocking at times, but you see-

I was an active participant in my son's death. 

I'm not ready to sweeten up the words to make it all ok.  Making others uncomfortable is the least of my concerns.  I'm trying to figure out how to live with that knowledge and not dwell in regret or guilt.

What keeps me moving forward is remembering that sweet little face.  Of all my regrets, CJ will never be one of them!  Every memory of the time I spent with him is such a blessing. What we thought was a promised future with our little boy brought such joy to our entire extended family. The love and excitement in our home changed us in ways many families only dream of.  That can never be taken away.

Regrets.  Guilt.  Crummy parts of this journey that I'm doing my best to keep in check.  I pray I can forgive myself completely one day.  I'm guessing that will be the day in heaven that I finally get to look into my son's eyes and apologize.

Until then, my life must be a reflection of my love for CJ.  Somehow, I will #doitforcj