2015 wave of light

Another year.   This is my third wave of light.  How has my sweet little boy been gone over 2 years?   It just doesn't make sense.  

Time is a blessing.   Bad days are still excruciating,  but they tend to sneak up less often.   Not a single day goes by that CJ isn't on my mind from the moment I wake up until I cry myself to sleep.   Can you imagine?   My heart never gets to take a break.   But my soul is learning to love him in ways that are less painful. 

This wave of light is such a comfort.   It remind me that I'm not alone along with an opportunity to selfishly focus on CJ outloud for a change.  a few years have sneaked out as I read my newsfeed full of memorials to friends' babies.  So many beautiful, warrior moms who I have met on this journey.  Our angels are our common link, and I'm blessed to know every one of them.

Can you simply light a candle tonight in support of so many hurting souls tonight?   If you are personally struggling through your own loss,  know that you are not alone.   My prayers will included all those struggling silently as well as us loud mouths.  Tonight is simply about the babies...

Love to each and every one of you!
-Jen

I screwed up...

Every little things that was in his nursery was packed when we moved last year.  We were in no way ready to thin things out,  so I simply packed it.   Every little things was placed in a box or bin by me.   Help was offered, but at the time I was completely in momma bear mode and nobody (including my husband) could make me feel at ease and get me to accept help.

Fast forward a year.  A mountain of boxes and bins sat ominously stacked in the corner of the basement.   This may be the saddest way too memorialize our sweet boy.   Almost 2 years since we said goodbye to CJ,  a few medical hurdles and attempts,  and still no "rainbow" baby.   That stack doesn't just represent past loss,  but broken dreams for the future. 

3 nights ago I decided enough was enough.   I can't explain why,  but it was time to sort through,  condense, donate, and repack.  My first action was to donate the 3 cases of diapers collecting dust. 

I found a young mom in my community struggling and pregnant.   She showed up walking the 3 blocks with her small children and a stroller,  refusing to allow me to drive the 3 large boxes over for her.  We emptied the boxes and stacked as many packs as we could into the stroller, then bagged up the rest for them to carry.  I watched them walk away and I felt one burden lifted from her shoulders.  But my pain over letting go of a stack of diapers was shattering.

Night #2 tackling the stack was spent opening everything to see what I had. I could remember where every single item had been in the nursery.  It was like ripping the stitches out of a wound before it was healed.  The stack was left as an even bigger mess.

Night #3 I decided to finish what I started.   Last night I touched every single item.   Some hand me downs were pulled aside to be donated.  Everything was sorted,  cried over,  and repacked.   For the first time it not only felt like CJ's things,  but that of any other baby we have not been blessed to conceive.   It was a horribly painful reality.

My husband walked in exhausted from work just past midnight to find me finishing up and a mascara smeared mess.   And that's when I realize it...

I screwed up.

He hugged me.   That hug that only he can give me while holding me up as I crumble into his arms.   He didn't let go when I started to resist and pull away.  He just let me lose it.

Then he told me he never expected me to do it alone. He thought we would go through it all together.  The look on his face told me he was disappointed.  It never occurred to me that refolding onsies was just as important to him.

My head was pounding from all the crying.  My exhausted husband didn't hesitate to run back out for a soda for me.   Then we stayed up until after 2 watching watching meaningless reality tv and mindless chatter.  When my headaches had eased off, we crawled into bed.  His arms protectively around me as he spooned his traumatized wife. 

Why do I insist on doing it all myself?  I think I'm trying to protect everyone around me from experiencing the debilitating pain I attempt to function with every single day.

Every.  single. day.

It's not working.  They are already right there with me sorting through feelings none of us will ever be able to pack away.  While most days are better, many are still spent attempting to internally sort and reposition the enormous emotions of losing a child.  Every action is an attempt to lesson the pain.   But in reality,  it's just moving it around.   And often,  I screw it up.  

Today I'm exhausted.   It's like having an emotional hangover.  So now that my little buddy is softly snoring on the couch next to me, I'm going to let go and join him.   We can deal with life on a toddler's schedule today.  No big life changing epiphanies today.  Just a crap full of reality.

#doitforcj

#doitforcj

I wonder...

I wonder if they had just brought my son back to me after I was cleaned up and stable if the time I could have had would have left a less traumatic wound on my heart.

I wonder how it would have felt to hold his sweet body against mine.  To unwrap him and feel him skin to skin against my chest.

I wonder if my heart would be more at peace of I had been given the chance to bath him and dress him.   Let's face it... he was already dead. What harm could it have done?

I wonder if my sweet husband would have been given some privacy from the staff while he held his son for only those few minutes if he would have allowed himself to grieve.  If we could have had a few moments the 3 of us to cuddle and be his parents together. His wife sobbing in a hospital bed while he sat in a chair helplessly holding his dead son must haunt him. Physically,  we were seperated.  Those few inches felt like a brick wall.

I wonder if anyone would have suggested we take or own pictures if I could let the lazy photographer who didn't even make an attempt off the hook. 

I wonder why any of the staff could not recognize the horror of that silent room.  The comfort of some soft music could have changed our memories forever.

But most of all,  I wonder what his beautiful eyes must have looked like. I dream of his gaze meeting mine.   I pray that is the first thing I see when I join him in heaven.

But for now, I'm left to wonder...

CJ Bear

We have a new resident in our home.   A very sweet gift named "CJ Bear".

Our little bear has been stuffed to weigh CJ's exact birth weight.   It was made for us by another mom who lost a baby.  Her ministry for healing are these sweet little bears, dressed in onsies and included with a letter explaining her story.

I've avoided this.   Just a few days into our journey,  this was suggested to me and I honestly thought the idea was crazy.  Why would I want to put myself through feeling what I'm missing?  Would I be able to put it down,  or would I become the crazy woman stroller walking a stuffed bear around the neighborhood? But with time (well over a year ) the opprotunity presented itself again and I bit.

Thinking it would be weeks,  I emailed his weight. To my astonishment,  I received an email back thatmy bear was being made just a few blocks from CJ's cemetery!  I agreed to pick it up a few days later.

What a sweet woman.  I pictured a perfectly staged home with a lady who had plenty of time on her hands to sew these bears.  What I met was a sweet woman with one baby in a highchair,  another trying desperately to get both of our attention to share a favorite toy, and dogs wrangled through a scratched basement door to protect me from the excited behavior.  Her home was very lived in and her hands are very full.  Yet there sat my bear. She handed him to me, and I instinctively held it to my chest.  The weight was surprisingly heavier than I imagined.  It was quite comforting.

When I shared the bear with my family,  my husband and 2 kids shared my surprise at how heavy it felt, while my oldest nuzzled it and with a smile said "yep, that about right".  I was very surprised to see each open to holding and immediately snuggling our new friend.

He found a home on my bed for now.  And he definitely found a new home in our hearts.  I will remember that sweet gal who made it every time I look at it.   Tonight I'm giving in and sneaking some snuggles.  I'm sure CJ is watching and knows he's not replaced.  I'm just a hurting mom simply trying to make it through the day and #doitforcj.

Living with loss...

I'm feeling a bit side swept by an overwhelming feeling of loss tonight.   Of course for my son,  but for so many other things also.

Dreams that turned into reality mostly.  How often do we dream so lofty and be blessed with it's fruition?  13 years of waiting and praying to add to our family materialized for no rhyme or reason.   I had not taken fertility treatments. My faith had been steady.  Why at that time? One of those questions I'll never really understand.

We lost CJ.  A week later we lost or 15 yr old dog.  2 weeks later we got a puppy,  who passed away as soon as we all became attached.   It was a never ended onslaught of loss.   We were like refugees,  stumbling through life.  The kids were in a new school district.   We were in a new community where nobody knew us.  We were lost.

The funny thing is,  being lost doesn't always mean you need to return to the same starting place.  We tried that and what was waiting there had lost it's luster.  What we realized wad while we had such a beautiful community of supporters living us through our hell,  a few people that we had banked too much of our lives on completely flaked.

With love,  we survived.  We recognized those who stepped forward to be there on the ugly nights.  Extended family that started dropping in to check on us and listened when we didn't have a clue how to put to words our pain.  Relationships were strengthened, renewed, and even forged.   A few we let go of.  A few let go of us.  We have changed our physical surroundings as well as emotional.  And slowly,  we have redefined home.

This feeling of loss tonight is hopefully short lived.  New pets have helped us direct a bit of our broken hearts to something to nurture.  Future plans to get out of Chicago winters for good have us excited for the future.  Something is missing.  Something will ALWAYS be missing.   But even with loss, there's life.

#doitforcj

It caught up with me...

I've been in avoidance mode.  Taking ques from those around me uncomfortable with the conversation on a child in heaven, I've put a lot of effort into living quietly.  Grieving quietly. Trying to simply pull myself together. It's been over a year and it is clearly what many friends and family expect from me.

We can be intensely private people.  While I share daily on several social media sites, like the majority I filter what I post.  I try to give a honest glimpse into our journey living without our son, but many big details of our life are kept private.  Locations and specifics are often purposely deceiving for the safety of our family.  But much is bluntly put out there for the world to see.

So why an I struggling so hard to live my journey honestly? Exhaustion from being judged. Plain and simple. It is very common for me to receive private messages expressing how some think I a faithful woman would behave better than I often do.

Well, I'm once again calling bullshit on this journey.  My son died.  I delivered a beautiful, perfect looking baby who never took a breath. I watched as my husband briefly held him and cried. I watched his sisters snuggle him and kiss him goodbye. I laid there in a hospital bed wondering if I was killing the souls of our daughters by including them. I looked into my parents eyes as they cradled their only grandson in their arms.  I died a bit that day in ways that will never be fixed.

So for whatever reason, I'm struggling. Rx bottles I haven't touched in months will need to be refilled soon.  Sleep escapes me even with that help.  Nightmares are back and amplified.  The vivid memories in the morning leave me confused and panicked.

I'm still functioning through the days.  Things are a bit easier with a recent change we made that has lessened some  financial burdens for us.  Once again, a decision that we have hidden to avoid  judgment.

Maybe tomorrow will be the day I find my backbone again!  We stepped out of our comfort zone and have had a very social weekend. Dinner at a busy casino with friends, joining our adult child and her bf to hang out at a neighborhood bar late one night, and accepting an invite from our teenagers to join them and friends for bowling.  That is an incredible amount of social pressure for one weekend for us!

And with the realization of some life progress, I'll leave you with this thought...

Try not to push someone through a hard journey. Forcing them to fake happiness is not how they actually achieve it.  Even after our crazy, busy, happy few days, I need a few to cry.  I need to be encouraged to acknowledge EVERYTHING I'm really dealing with. Not just the feelings that make those around me comfortable.

Thank you to all of you beautiful angels that follow along and send your love and prayers.  Keep them coming and know that I am praying for all of you.  It's just one way I try 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 :)

Words and the appropiate use of the F word

I'm frustrated. 

Surprise, surprise!

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

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

Words.

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

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

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

All over words.

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

"FUCK"

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

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

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

Words.

Seriously??

FUCK

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

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

Follow my new twitter...

Check out Jen Ags (@livinlife4cj): https://twitter.com/livinlife4cj

Don't wait

Tonight my mind is on one simple thought.

Don't wait.

Share love with those around you. Not only by telling them, but show them.  Hug your kids every day.  EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.  Don't wait.

Take advantage of the opportunity of supporting a kid in your village as if they are your birth child.  Cheer them on at sporting events, listen to their concerts.  Participate and celebrate their accomplishments.  Go THIS TIME.  Don't wait.

Tonight our evening consisted of taking 2 teen daughters plus their boyfriends to watch the 3rd daughter's bf in a baseball game.  We cheered and laughed. We were an odd village to onlookers, but a happy one. While climbing over our slew of teens on a food run, I jokingly grabbed the face of one of my girls and kissed her cheek. I expected squeals, but instead was greeted by a returned hug and her sister demanding her kiss next.  I took advantage of a moment and they soaked it up.  I've learned not to wait.  I've also learned that they don't want me to.

Our favorite ball player was cut from the team tonight.  We were there to watch him catch the last 3 innings.  we were there.  That's all that matters!

Tomorrow my village of sweet crazy teens may look different, but I will love them the same.  God gave me a mothers heart.   And while my arms ache horribly this weekend,  i'm going to do my best to love the kids God has given me on earth as well as holding for me in heaven.  I could easily hide away starting the holiday is to hard, but then I would miss out on the love. 

Don't wait.  Hug that crabby teenager.  #doitforcj

Blankies and blessings

It seemed like such a simple idea.  Rally the kids to help me do a 1 hour tidy up on the basement.  We went down armed with trash bags determined to sort through some old games my teenagers haven't touched in years.  What I was faced with was stacks of CJ's things.

A few boxes of clothes, highchair, stroller, swing...  Most of what was stored had only been placed in just the right places a few days before we said goodbye.  My sweet husband swiped everything I asked him to away to the basement.  A few sheet were tossed on them to protect from dust, but they were obviously tossed down quickly and never really dealt with.

I admit to slowly picking through a few bins.  Blankets the girls loved as toddlers caught my eye and were brought up to be washed.  The smiles on their faces when they saw them was adorable.  It felt oddly comforting to return them.

I took offense today when another mom said to me "atleast you have other kids. I have none."   At first it seemed like such a callous thing to say to me.  But watching 2 of our kids laugh with excitement to be given their old blankies, I admit to feeling so blessed.  There is no possible way to miss CJ more.  Looking into the faces of our children is a constant reminder of his absence.  Yet with every hug and "I love you, mom" comes healing. 

Mothers Day is almost here.  This one will be very, very different for me.  I'm trying to prepare my heart for my reality while my mind reminds me of my beautiful children still here on earth.   Another 1st being an angel mommy.  Please remember those women around you this week feeling mounting anxiety for this weekend while missing angels.  Tread lightly on their hearts. No matter if their arms are full or empty here on earth, a piece of her heart is forever missing.

#doitforcj

Crying my way thru the day

No worries everyone! Dark, dismal, and crying had been replaced by a lovely fuzzy Xanax induced state of being.  After finding myself sobbing hysterically in a fast food parking lot, it was time to come home and surrender to pharmaceutical help.

These days happen.  Not often and usually not to the extent of today's melt down, but they happen.  The embarrassment of mascara streaks and puffy eyes is just normal for me now. 

I should make disclaimer cards for when a stanger stumbles upon me during these moments.  Something that says

Caution!  The woman who handed you this card is a heartbroken bereaved mom.  She doesn't have the words to explain her tears. Back away slowly without looking her in the eyes and everything will be ok.

I'm amazed at how many places I've burst into tears.  Most times I couldn't even tell you what triggers it. 

But tears are ok.  They mean I haven't closed down. Tears release some of the pain that stabs at me all day long.  I daydream about way to turn off the pain.  That would be a welcome change some days... to just drink myself into a stupor until I simply don't care.  But my reality is that I live my kids too much to make them witness me like that.

So after crying my way through most of Lockport, hopefully tomorrow will be gentler.  Or at the least, sunny so I can hide behind my sunglasses! 

Btw... Doesn't everyone ask for a stack of napkins with their iced tea in the drive thru?  Geez....  There's a very confused kid at DD that had to deal with a crazy lady crying in her car this afternoon.  I wonder if I made his newsfeed ;)

#doitforcj

Rainy nights ...

As the rain pours down tonight, I am haunted.  Haunted by the "should be" thoughts that meander through my mind on nights like these.

I should be pacing outside of the nursery room door hoping the thunder doesn't wake my sleeping son.  He should be here in footie pjs wrapped in a blanket well washed from swaddling his sisters.  His sisters should have shut their doors in the hopes of not hearing him crying from the thunder startling him.

How do we move on from those thoughts?  I collapsed in my husbands arms for a brief moment this evening praying outloud for just a few precious moments of amnesia.  Just long enough for me to exhale fully and regain enough strength to take the next breathe. I beg to God often for just a brief moment to forget.  This weight that pins me in place is exhausting. 

Tonight, CJ and I are listening to the storm together.  We are missing out on easy sleep and peaceful dreams.  His physical absence doesn't erase his footprint on my heart.  On several occasions, I have awaken in pure excitement after feeling "phantom kicks".  Then reality sets in that my sweet boy is gone and I crumble.  I feel him with me so strongly some nights.  Lying awake the weight of his body lying on my chest comforts me.  My arms ache.  They physically ache to hold my sweet little bundle just one more time.  I have contemplated ordering a teddybear made to his birth weight, but I fear I'll never put it down. 

When you hear the rain against the windows, remember those mommies who have buried their babies.  Pray for us as we desperately try not to think about our child in their grave.  But most of all, be patient with me.  My heart has yet to come to terms with my reality.   Nights like tonight bring it all flooding back. Hopefully tomorrow through the predicted storms I can find a few moments of calm to let hope seep back up through the cracks.  Heaven knows those cracks are big enough...

#doitforcj

waterproof mascara

Once upon a time, I had a life.  lol  Let's face it... I'm a 40 year old woman who is an  unemployed, scatterbrained,  stay at home mom (with no kids at home!).   Talk about all the making for a mid life crisis!  The comical part is I don't have enough time.  For anything.  Yes, I have heard the long explanation of how the chemical imbalance of depression blah blah blah....

But here's the deal- I am so sick of the bereaved mom stereotype.  Yes, I am grieving CJ every second of every day.  He is the first thing I think of one when I wake up, and thoughts of him keep me awake long into the night.  Some days I am up and out of the house in the world.  Others the thought of even answering my phone is too much to deal with.

But today I am having a lighter day.  I figured out accidently how to take a picture of  myself from my laptop.  Today I'm hiding being glasses as I sew my way through a few projects that have deadlines looming.  So here is my mind blowing
thought for the day...

Waterproof mascara. HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! 

I rotate between 3 phases. 

1. Day when my cheeks are burned from tears.  Yes, burned raw.  These days most of my decent eyelashes usually fall out.  These days I'm usually too raw and bright red to even attempt makeup.  If I have to leave the house, expect me to walk into anywhere I need to be wearing sunglasses, and they stay right there on my face.  I have learned not to give a crap what people think.  If that makes me more comfortable, the world can wonder... 

2.  OK days when I attempt to get dressed and put on makeup.  Eventually tears sneak up on me if I'm caught off guard, that waterproof crap end up on my shirt sleeve of back of my hand and I quickly try to clean myself up in public.

3.  The rare day when I think I'm leaving the house looking decent and in a pretty light mood until I catch my reflection in a mirror.  Those harder days have left their mark.  Dark and puffy eye circles and blotchy skin are my badge of honor for crying myself to a point of dehydration and exhaustion. There is no hiding the emotional scars the past 7 months have left on my face. I avoid having my picture taken to the extent that I'm beginning to realize I will be nonexistent in photo albums for several big moments on our kid's lives. 

So I guess I will continue to keep dropping money on waterproof mascara and reapplying several times a day.  For a brief moment, when I'm leaning in toward the mirror and only concentrating my eye, I see myself as I used to be.  Anyone who knows me knows as long as I have on black mascara, I can leave the house.   Add a dark pair of sunglasses, and life goes on!


love you, CJ!!  Mommy will keep trying for those better days. But when I trip, know that eventually my face will get washed, a new coat applied, and I'll try again.  I WILL #doitforcj

 

 

dance my little angel...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YNoLJy68ZcE