Tears at a funeral

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#doitforcj

Breath of Heaven...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

[Chorus: x2]

Breath of heaven
Breath of heaven
Breath of heaven

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

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

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

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

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

Wishing you all the blessing this season promises.

#doitforcj

Dear young moms...

Dear young mom,

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

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

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

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

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

Keep
It
Simple
Stupid

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