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

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

Cleaning out closets

I know I'm not alone.   I've held on to bins of clothes that I have come close to on several occasions,  but never fit back into.   Our master closet had become our current clothes hanging,  and 3 times as much in bins. Not anymore.

Contemplating an across county move we hope to make in a few years had me looking around at the amount of stuff stored around the house.  Unless you saw the half of the garage stacked with bins or peeked around in closets, you would never guess. I am the master of making our home always look roomy, and uncluttered to guests. The reality is that there are plastic bins neatly stashed everywhere.  

My closet seemed like a good place to start. NINE large plastic bins were dragged out.  One item at a time, I emptied every one.  It occurred to me that many items are no longer "trendy" enough to even sell.  So I started stacking up donations.

When I was done, there were 3 bins of winter clothes to return to the closet. Everything else was stacked into the van to donate.   6 bins of clothes.  The physical weight was startling. 

Letting it all go has inspired me.   One closet at a time will be weeded out,  except one.   All of CJ'S things are stored in a basement closet.  I'm giving myself permission to skip that one.   You see while some memories are enough to fill the gap of letting go of a dress I wore to a wedding 5 years ago, CJ's things were never touched.
 
No memories were made swaddling him into his blankets.  I never got to hear him have fits while pulling a onsie over his head.   His stacks of overly preppy polos and jeans are completely stain free.  I never changed his footie pjs in the middle of the night.  Without those memories,  I'm not ready to let them go.   They represent every hope, plan, and dream we had for him.  

I'm often asked what I have done with his things.  Well intentioned people have even sent me nudges with suggestions on where to donate those items.   I have calmly ignored comments that "other babies who actually need" these items would be thankful. Our that I wasted energy moving them with us.

So to answer any lingering doubts ...

NOPE.  You do not need to suggest charities that will pick up his things.

Yep.  I'm keeping them.

They aren't being wasted.  They aren't a burden.  They are a very very small tangible reminder we have of our son.

Next time you suggest or volunteer to remove a family's belongings after losing a child,  I want you to think of this- if your house burnt down today,  what would be all that mattered?   That your family got out safely,  right?  Stuff can be replaced, right?   We walked out of the hospital without our child.   We walked out of the fire leaving him behind.   Cut me some slack on the few bins stashed under the basement stairs.

#doitforcj

I can't win...

So by now you would think I would have learned not to expect others to act the way we would like them to.   Often during our journey I'm surprised to see how the very people who love us make choices that are so incredibly hurtful.   Case in point... new babies.

We can't resist them.  Never have been able to,  never will.  We are the aunt/uncle that finds such beauty in every little face.  A sweet bundle in our arms is hard to pass on to the next awaiting arms.   Those who include us in thier lives are guaranteed years of spoiling and love.

To find ourselves the outcasts of the newest family addition breaks our hearts.  First,  a poorly timed pregnancy announcement of an unmarried couple was hard to swallow.  We were just a few months past loosing CJ when it was announced at a Christmas dinner we were hosting.  I couldn't understand why this couldn't be shared with us at another time (not the first Christmas without my son and 20 sets of eyes on me) We had graciously opened our home during the hardest holiday of our lives thinking we would be surrounded by support.   CJ was not acknowledged by anyone,  yet we share gifts in his memory.   It stung.  I vowed to put us first for awhile after feeling completely trampled.

You can only imagine my surprise when I decided I was ready to see pictures of our newest nephew born last month and took to Facebook.   When I couldn't find the "friend", I had my daughter check from a different account.   My husband and I have been blocked.   Not simply unfriended,  blocked. Please feel free to giggle childishly with me.

Normally I would quietly sweep such behavior under the rug.  It's unfortunately common for this corner of the family.  Obviously one fb block would not push me to such extremes- it's simply the icing on the cake.  Instead I'm standing up for MY family.  The 6 beautiful souls that dwell in my home.   We deserve to be loved unconditionally.  We deserve to have our feeling respected.  We deserve time to mourn our son/brother for as long as we need without the burden of foolish drama swirling around us.  We deserve love.

My greatest lessons are often what NOT to do.   Allowing hurtful behavior,  keeping silent,  and loving those who do not love us in return. 

I write this knowing it may be read by one or two that can piece identities together.  I don't care.  I am free.  Free from hosting holidays after years of being taken advantage of.  Free from guilt over time spent between families.  Free to make decisions this upcoming holiday season that bring us joy.  There are so many family members that deserve our time and attention who have cried with us,  defended us, and simply loved us.  I'm giving myself permission to no longer worry about splitting time equally.

Our circle has multiplied exponentially this past years with people who love us for who we are.   Family is not always blood.  So many family members have loved us through.   It's a shame that a tiny few continue to cause so much pain.

#doitforcj

What's next?

I suppose I've brought this one on myself.   Even in the quietest moments of the day,  my mind is racing to find new ways to keep CJ's memory alive.  Often I am asked  "What's next? ".

My son's first birthday had brought that subject up several times this week. And of course,  I have plans.

The hospital has asked me on teach an inservice to any hospital employee involved on labor and delivery that would like to learn a few basic photography poses and techniques.  As soon as I accepted, a date for next month was scheduled.  I think of those open hearts who have heard our story and have been touched to want to help other families and my heart soars!

Next add on the calender is a Cotillion for our daughters in the spring.  A sort of quince/sweet 16/17 that they have so deserved yet our distracting life had prevented us from scheduling.  They have chosen to have a mascarade ball.   With the help of a local restaurant, thier dream is taking form.  In liu of gifts,  they will be asking thier guests to bring items to be added to comfort bag we are making for grieving families to take home from the hospital.   Candle jars in peaceful scents, a piece of jewelry for a grieving mommy's heart,  a journal to write notes to thier sweet babies...  just a few of the beautiful gifts we received over time that brought me some peace.   Thier brother is always with us.  Honoring him with every family event will be easy with the love these girls have for him.

But what about today?   The big dates scribbled on a calender are the easy ones.  My focus is directed at memorializing him on those days.  It's the ordinary days that are confusing.   I walk a fine line between living a life reflective of my love for CJ, and getting caught up and missing the life that continues to move on around me.  

Now that a year has passed, several people have expressed to me that it is time to "move on".  I'm going to continue to politely nod and carry on exactly how I am.  One very confusing day at a time.

By the way,  have I mentioned that I have a son?  I would love to tell you more about him....

#doitforcj

What I have learned during year 1

With the anxiety of CJ's 1st birthday behind us,  I'm being asked quite often what are the biggest lessons I've learned.   Here's a few of my favorites...

When you don't know what to say,  the only correct things are:
I'm sorry.
I love you.
I'm here for you.

Teenagers share love in such a pure way. Thier ability to empathize and comfort is boundless.

Dog are angels on earth.  They provide companionship and comic relief nomatter the life situation.

Husbands cry.

Sleep is mandatory to survive,  not a luxury.

The closest people to you,  who love you the most, are often not the best support when grieving.

Waterproof mascara is a farce.

It's ok to not be ok.

Some people will take advantage of you when you are at your absolute lowest.  It's ok to walk away from them.

Cemeteries are for laughing AND crying,  often on the same visit.

It's ok to say no.  Not every offer to "help" is actually helpful.

Bad days are inevitable.   Be gentle with yourself.

24 hours.  Once you hit 24 hrs,  you MUST get out of the house! You can cry just as well sitting in a park as at home.

It's ok to cry in public.  Most people will look away,  but the one who takes the time to stop and talk to you will carry your story with them forever.

Life DOES go on.   It hurts at times, but there is so much left to be enjoyed.   Take a deep breath. Pull up your big girl panties,  grab your sunglasses,  and get out there!

#doitforcj

1 yr....

My heart is screaming.  I just dropped Nate of at work,  something we do often to spend time together.   Driving up to the hospital triggered every horrific feeling we had just one year ago today.

I never wanted to remember what it felt like to have a dead baby inside of me, the looks on everyone's faces as we walked into the lobby, or even the emotions as we entered the elevator.

My poor husband.   Please pray for him.   How he is spending his evening within those walls is a complete act of selflessness and love for his family.   My chest hurt just being in the parking lot.  Tomorrow he was able to take off to be with us.   Tonight will be hell for him.

I drove straight to CJ.  I am once again the crazy mom wrapped in a blanket in a lawn chair at my son's grave.   Writing this is keeping me from falling too deeply into hysterics.   I don't even have the strength to wipe the berries off of his beautiful new stone that fell from the overhanging tree branches.   I just want to sit here and figure out how the hell do I ever survive something like this.

Crazy thoughts cross your mind in times of extremes.  Knowing he is only a few feet below me... It would be so easy to dig into the earth towards him.   Or to simply swallow a bottle of pills and drift off to sleep here in my chair.  I could be with him in just a few minutes.   Crazy extremes that cross my mind that luckily common sense can still put into perspective.  I can't love him selfishly.   He was given to us an addition to our family, not to be singled out.  

It is unseasonably cool today.   The breeze is giving me goosebumps.   Sleep deprivationis taking a toll.  After some time,  I will kiss the sacred ground goodbye like I always do.  The berries with be brushed away and flowers repositioned just right.  And finally I will leave my son here.

This is such bullshit.

an angel was blessed with wings...

A bit ago the clocked ticked past midnight.  I'm still breathing somehow.  1 year ago today, my son died.  OUR son died.  Our son, brother, grandson, nephew...  Our missing piece. A dream we gave up on that came to us with crazy earthly timing filling our lives with magic and promise.

For 8 months we shared a body.  His, seemingly perfect in every way.  Mine, struggling with an abundance of medical attention bringing me false peace of mind. We were together every moment of every day.  Growing and learning each moment about each other. I marveled at the opportunity to watch my expanding belly block the view of my feet.  Swollen ankles, heart burn, headaches... just minor nuisances.  I was simply happy and head over heels in love with my son.

Today is Christian's "angelversary".  The day his sweet little soul left this earth. People in baby loss communities often post about when they were told their was no heartbeat.  We were never told the words.  We stared at an ultrasound screen and listened to a doctor babble on about fluid around his heart.  I knew.  I understood.  My husband did not.  I had to be the one to say the words to him.

And then we began to fall.  The despair and pain we were about to hurdle together is nothing I could ever really put to words. We made poor decision- calling the wrong friends for support, rushing over to the hospital, and forcing our families to drive across states to be with us in a panic while we rushed.  We didn't know...  no parent should ever have to know the things we have learned.

Today isn't his birthday. Tomorrow at 5:30am will mark that moment. 

Today is the day he died. 

My son died.

Please love us through this.


#doitforcj

I'm just gonna love you through it...

 

Getting me to hang out at a block party in our old neighborhood is no easy feat.  I dragged my feet all afternoon before finally heading over with the kids.

It turned out to be a fun evening.  There was a bit of heaviness between me and the girls.   Missing CJ like crazy tends to do that to us.  The evening ended with the neighbors gathering a few houses away to light wish lanterns in memory of a neighbor who had passed away.  I stayed where I was knowing venturing down with the crowd could end with me in a puddle of tears.  My own anxiety of a possibly emotionally charged event unfolding had me completely distracted from where the girls were.

Lanterns started to fill the sky.  I stood  quietly crying watching them float away.   My sweet friend came up and put her arms around me.  I didn't have to explain.  I just cried. She simply stated "I'm just going to love you through it".  We stood there both of us crying and watching.   She didn't say anything else.  No empty promises and words of wisdom.   She just  kept her arms around me and cried with me.

After a few minutes people started to mill around again.   I was pulling myself back together when a little girl came running up to me in a panic to tell me one of my girls had collapsed.   I followed her down the street to where the lanterns had been released expecting to find a kid sprawled out.  One was calmly sitting on the ground, and the other 2 were protectively near by, puffy eyed ,surrounded by friends.

I must have looked like such a bitch.  "Everyone ok?" was all I said.  I looked at each girl one at a time. I understood what happened without them having to explain.  They participated in something way beyond what our fragile hearts could handle.   They were surrounded by friends,  safe,  and calm.   They were ok. Stirring up an emotional reenactment was not going to help so I didn't ask any questions. 

 

That's how we survive. One emotionally charged event at a time.  But most importantly,  with moments we can let go a bit and just allow someone to simply love us through it.

Angels everywhere

I had an encounter while visiting CJ the other day.  I didn't think much of it then. Last night I had a dream about it.

I was standing quietly feeling pretty hallow.  Usually I sit down if I'm alone,  but this day I was feeling very detached.   After just a few moments I heard a man's voice call out "you must be his momma. I'm so sorry".  On the other side of the fence stood an elderly man.  His eyes were so caring I tried to stifle tears.  

"yes, I am" I managed to say.   The man's gaze moved to CJ's stone.   "My wife and I cried from our porch watching your beautiful family the day the headstone was delivered.   We don't know your story, but think of you often".

I thanked him awkwardly,  not quite knowing if I should explain further or even leave.

He then told me they say hello to him every time they pull into thier driveway.  His wife insists on calling him baby Christian, but he prefers Chris.  I smiled and told him that we nicknamed CJ. He smiled back at me and replied "then CJ it is! " and turned to walk back to the shed where he had been working.

Such a simple interaction.   He wasn't pushing for an explanation like most do.  Our story of how we ended up with our son a few yards from his property didn't matter.  He was simply giving a grieving mom's heart the acknowledgment it needed.  My son exists.  He is part of our family.  He had not been forgotten.

Last night I had a dream about CJ's neighbors.   We were all sitting in the grass watching his stone being delivered.   Above us were angels watching over us.  Atleast a dozen beautiful angels who's faces I can't remember.  One of them said"let's call him Chris!" and another answered in a familiar voice "his momma calls him CJ".  Overlapping voices called out "hi CJ".  And then those angels flew behind us. I turned around to watch them disappear into the elderly man's home.

There are angels everywhere.   They have protected us, prompted me to keep breathing,  tickled us back into laughing,  wrapped thier wings around us when we are hurting,  and lead us to places of hope and healing.   When you meet one,  you are blessed.

I am very blessed.

#doitforcj

Needing prayers for a wounded heart

I was on the phone with a family member yesterday.   She asked me why one of our girls seemed overly quiet at a recent family event.   Annoyed,  I answered that she was sad.   She has every right to be sad and have a crappy day.   We have CJ's 1st birthday looming and we are all hurting.

I thought I was opening up a conversation about my son.   A conversation I so desperately need to have as often as possible. Instead, I was quickly shot down.  "I try not to think about it. I don't want to think about it" she replied and changed the subject.

Today tears keep sneaking up on me,  but harder than anything is not having family I can call crying and simply talk about CJ. As time has ticked by,  I have oddly taken on the job of reassuring everyone around us that we are ok.  Rumors and worries about us are spoken to others,  but rarely said directly to me.  I have such a hard time understanding when I'm told that people talk about us because they love us so much. Grief is the most isolating,  lonely place to dwell.

During his homily at CJ's funeral, Father David spoke about helping us through losing our son.  He spoke about how the typical response is to tell the grieving family "call if you need anything".  He paused for a moment,  then yelled out "they need you! ". 

One year doesn't mean that we are over it.  Our pain is magnified as we relive the last few days before or life was ripped apart.  Do not mistake living, laughing, and loving eachother as a replacement for our missing family member. 

If my sweet boy teaches you anything,  I hope it's to love a grieving family long past the funeral. Gently push past the strong facade and be the shoulder they need.  There is great comfort in remembering even through the tears. Trust me,  "they need you! ".

Humbly asking for your prayers.... jen

Learning new vocab

Babies die.  Children don't always get better.  Relationships end.  It CAN happen to you.

The reality of losing CJ had taught me that life is sometimes simply crap.  Actually,  bullshit.  My sweet Catholic upbringing cringes at excessive profanity,  but sometimes you just have to call a spade a spade!

So how do these epiphanies funnel down into my everyday life?  Today life put plenty of chances in my path.

First,  I was confronted with a friend worried about her very ill family member.   I couldn't find the words to comfort her.  How can I promise she would be ok? Why do we immediately fall back on those bullshit promises?  Who could possibly look into my eyes and not know I am lying? 

Then tonight I clumsily stumbled attempting to help a pregnant friend with her worried heart.  She had lost a baby with a story similar to our CJ.  Telling her everything will be ok feels so insincere.   I pray with my entire heart that she finishes with a beautiful,  living baby.   But my very jealous heart screams why?   Why does she get a rainbow while I try to deal with the reality that I may never have that chance?  How do I convey how much I hope she will have a happy ending while knowing bad things really do happen?

I need to pray on this one for awhile.   Right back to that basic "hope" concept.  How do I share my hopes and best wishes with those around me while not making bullshit promises?  Hmmmmm...

#doitforcj

some answers aren't in a books store...

This week I found myself in the self help section of the bookstore.  Remember when that was THE big trend?  That time has obviously come and gone. 

I started in the parenting section.  That is what I'm doing, right?  Trying to figure out how to parent an angel?  I found books on single parenting, parenting a child with ADHD/diabetes/multiples/strong will...  Nothing for us angel moms.

After walking around awhile I had to surrender myself to one of those polo clad practically teenage store clerks. At first I quietly inquired looking for books on grief.  "sure! We have a bunch!" he replied with a bit more enthusiasm than I was in the mood for.  I followed him the best I could as he walked at a cheetah's pace through the store.  He proudly pointed on a 2 foot section on the bottom rack.  I thanked him and to my relief he left me to sift through myself.

Now this is the biggest book store chain you can think of.  I had to get on my knees to check out the bottom rack.  What I found was ONE book on loosing a baby- a 100 page manual to surviving the first few months.  I thumbed through it to see a chapter on what to expect in the hospital.  "Who on earth runs to the book store to pick this up before heading to the hospital?" I thought and felt myself growing cynical by the moment.  I was saddened to see that this little paperback was the only book on the shelf about loosing a baby.  There were a few about loosing a child and even more about loosing a parent or spouse.  But a baby seemed to once again be a hushed topic. 

But what was I really looking for?  Hope.  Most days I'm pretty proud of myself for just getting out of bed every day.  God has truly led me to feel His gifts differently for the first time in my life.  Hope, grace, love, peace.  All have changed meaning in my heart over this past year.  I realize that a perfect life was not what I was thriving for to feel happiness.  Yet even when I am able to put my burdens down and find a bit of peace in the quiet,  hope is still my biggest struggle.

What do I hope for?  That may sound silly, but I am stuck in such a middle season of my life.  What do I hope for?  That was the answer I was looking to find on paper.  Do I hope for the grace to allow myself to continue speaking in CJ's name to the medical community?  Or maybe for the peace to allow my heart to embrace the eternal love my son is basking in without pain or sadness?  But what my heart really is unable to get a grasp on is what to hope for.

It's easy to simply say I hope for a content life full of happiness.  Years of love and laughter with our daughters, family and friends.  But dare I hope for even more for myself?  I'm talking about selfish, honest, pure, and open hearted hope that really allows the desires I may not share with anyone else. That's the answers I'm really looking for!

Today is already tense around here.  Any time I show any more emotions than just simple niceness it tends to make everyone on edge.  My guess is they are waiting to see what hysterics I will be pulling out of my pocket today!  Plus being married to the baby in the family who after almost 20 years together still can not find the words "I'm sorry" in his vocabulary (despite typically being the crazy level headed one in the relationship) ,who not surprisingly took his coffee and walked off with crappy comments to our bedroom when I wasn't in a rainbows shooting out of my ass mood this morning, and will probably stay there egging on a nonexistent argument for hours.  I'm going to leave him there for awhile and allow myself the luxury of sipping my coffee and really thinking about what I hope for myself. 

Wishing you all a day of the type of self discovery no book can ever bring! 

#doitforcj