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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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 .

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 :)