Changing seasons.

An odd memory keeps lingering in my mind today.

It was 2 years ago.  The trees were changing as was I.  Shock had worn off,  everyone had gone back to living, and I was lost.   Sobbing, praying,  arguing with God filled my days.   I felt alone and forgotten by most of the people in my life. The period of shock was much easier than this next stage in my journey.

I became explosive in every way. Some friends slipped away simply being unable to deal with watching me slip into my own hell, while others proved to be my angels.  They loved me through the smeared mascara, uncontrollable crying,  and anger fits. 

One weekend afternoon the normalcy of our household felt overly synthetic.  My life 2 months after losing my son had turned into a charade.  It was all too much and I crumbled.  My husband calmly walked to the backyard,  set up a chair, poured me a hot cup of coffee, and gently walked me outside.  He put a blanket over my legs and kissed my forehead before leaving me alone.   The tears burned and my soul screamed as I cried.  When I calmed down, he joined me. There was no need for words as he was living the same hell, just under different rules.  A grieving dad's emotions aren't cared for by others as a mom's are. After time we chatted.  I don't remember our conversation, but I remember the feeling.  He was the only one in the entire world who knew how it felt to lose OUR son.

I've met many moms who have lost babies these past 2 years, and over heard more heartbreaking stories than I can count.  And in the end,  I realize I am so abundantly blessed.   Even in my moments of deepest despair, my husband was there with me.  We wiped tears, took turns breaking down,  and used our last bit of strength to be kind to each other.  The loss of a child has statistically devastating effects on a marriage, yet somehow we pulled together even closer. 

This time of year is a reminder of change.  A time in my life I will never be able to restore in many ways.  But this year I'm trying to focus on the love and support we all shared over CJ.  My little boy brought us together in ways I never knew possible.  Hopefully he's watching me now proud of his mommy.  Hopefully the seasons continue to bring comfort and memories of love.   That's a legacy I'm proud to build for CJ....

Love.

Love and blessing to you all.  Happy belated All Souls Day 2015.

#doitforcj

Strawberry milk...

Summer break is in full swing at our house!  Kids come and go at all hours of the day. Some we get to claim on our taxes, others are sweet little extras to fill our days.

Quiet moments with just one daughter are rare. I hope one day when they look back, they remember that I really tried when an impromptu moment arose. Today it came in the form of strawberry milk.

I had been outside weeding after dinner until the bugs were attacking. I came inside frustrated that my time has been cut short in the garden. at the same time, our youngest daughter had just come out of the shower and joined me in the family room for some mindless TV. I honestly am not sure which one of us thought of it, but instantly we both had to have strawberry milk. This is quite the random idea if you know me and how hard I try to keep something so full of sugar out of my pantry.

We jumped up together and comically hurried into the kitchen. She managed to find some strawberry milk mix in the pantry and we begin to jokingly argue over shaker bottles. I don't know if she realized how hard I had been struggling all day. I don't know if she saw the pain in my eyes, or the tears I snuck off to wipe a few times. Maybe she caught me looking at his picture for a few extra seconds. Or maybe he was weighing heavy on her own heart. But for that few silly moments in the kitchen, I was able to put down some of the burden. To simply allow myself the few moments of laughter and let the pain rest.

We took our strawberry milk back into the family room. I sat on the couch with my sweet kid watching a reality show about a tattoo shop, and bouncing ideas off of her of what I would like to get in memory of her brother.

Most days my life is busy, chaotic, comical, overwhelming, blessed, painful, loud, and completely unpredictable. But today over a shaker bottle of strawberry milk on ice,  everything just felt calm.

Wishing you all a beautiful calm moment every single day.  For those of you hurting for whatever reason, allow yourself that moment of indulgence.   Put down your burdens long enough to exhale.  #doitforcj with me!

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.

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

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

Surviving holidays...

I made it. Another holiday where my sweet boy should be physically with us.

Short and sweet... It hurts.  Hurts to the point of dissolving into painful sobs in my husband's arms as soon as we were home and the kids went to bed. 

But one moment was so incredibly special to me.  My family wasn't saying CJ's name.  It was beginning to really hurt until a simple comment helped me realize we were ALL missing him.  The exact comment doesn't matter, but how it made me feel changed me perception. I was able to understand this house full of people was missing CJ and protecting me.  I felt admired for my honesty and strength, validated in my pain, and truly loved.

But once home, his absence was simply vicious on my heart.  I broke down.  And after leaving a nice tear puddle on my sweet man's shirt, a nice dose of Xanax and my PJs was all I wanted.  Calm is simply washing over me.  Almost a fog.  Tonight I'm thankful for the help catching my breath.  I've learned there is no badge of honor rewarded for not excepting the help when I need it. I really don't give a crap about the sigma of pharmaceutical help.

Soon Nate will join me in bed.  As usual, his arms will become my refuge. He's hurting too.  I feel it in his hugs and see it in his eyes.  We miss our son.

Sweet dreams to all of you.  I hope today was filled with family and love. For those feeling sad or alone, I understand.  It's OK.  I promise to always listen if you need an ear.  I promise because I have a son I'm missing with a broken heart.  #doitforcj

Thank God for nosebleeds?

Thank God for nosebleeds!!

OK, that may be a bit of a stretch.  My husband has been logging a ridiculous amount of overtime.  While the extra money is needed, the toll on the family has been palpable. We work hard to stay in touch but inevitably he misses out on the every day drama that occurs with so much female energy under one roof.

I have been fighting my own health issues and am simply still exhausted.  When I got a call from the emergency room yesterday afternoon at my first chance to sit with a hot cup of coffee and a nebulizer treatment, I admit I was ready to collapse into tears. Instead I grabbed a coat and keys, assigned the kids jobs to cover for me, and started driving.

What I found was the sweetest man I know in a hospital bed hunched over a basin with blood pouring out of his nose. The same man who in the past year watched me labor all night to bring CJ into the world, rushed me to the er with kidney stones, and just last week juggled home and work while I was in the hospital with pneumonia for three days.  He is my rock, and it broke my heart to see him this way.  I fought back tears as I washed the blood out of his beard and ran my fingers through his hair.

Today he is still bleeding and hurting.  The ENT will take another stab at cauterizing his nose tomorrow, but today he was home with us. ALLLLL of us! Even the kids were all home by 5. 

And it hit me... He has to work Thanksgiving, and I had a chance unfolding before my eyes!   Chicken breasts and traditional gravy, homemade stuffing from a loaf of Italian bread, butter, stick, and fresh celery/onion/garlic, stock, corn, cranberries....   It was our 1 hour version of a  traditional holiday feast!  A new movie was popped into the DVD player and we piled onto the couches juggling plates and drinks.  For a few hours we ate, laughed, and exhaled.

The day didn't matter. The date didn't matter.  We were together and more thankful than I can put into words!  Everyone has scattered to finish homework, showers, and laundry. Nate is out cold on the couch from muscle relaxers for his back. I'm slowly taking on the kitchen mess.

But for now, as the 60 lb puppy comes running through the room with someone's bra in her mouth, life is good.  Really really good.

Don't wait for a day on the calendar.  Take advantage of every moment you can with the people you love.  CJ was with us for every bite tickling the giggles out of us and feeling our love.  #doitforcj

Thankful heart...

Babies...

Everywhere...

I have been inundated with them today.  Every tv commercial and program was brimming with them today.  My news feed was an odd balance of bereaved moms from my support groups sharing pictures of their angels and new moms holding beautiful pink babies born this week.

Plus we have my buddy who is here being cute during the day.  It's not a sad reminder, but definitely a strong one to have him here.  And while noticing the universe seemingly rubbing it in my face today, I also recognized my blessings.

Bonnie.  My insane shepherd/boxer/pit mix joined us as we began to process our grief last year.  Her crazy antics and hyperactive personality has made her a Facebook favorite. Bonnie is a blessing that would have never happened.  Thank you, CJ.  THANK YOU for sending this insane ball of love into our lives.

***  I began writing this prior to finding myself in the hospital for 3 days with pneumonia in both lungs. Home for a few days today and feeling so thankful and ready to finish this***

Friendships have been brought into my life that I would never have without my sweet boy.  Other moms who have survived the unimaginable swooped me up in there big, protective arms when I needed to feel safe.  We have cried, yelled, and even laughed together at all hours of the day and night.  I have been the comforted and eventually the comforter.  My sense of empathy and compassion has forever been changed by this experience.  Thank you CJ for bringing mommy the support she needed to get through the hardest days.

Old friends jumped to help me recover this week while I simply couldn't take care of myself.  Familiar faces nursed me back to health, took the time to ask about our CJ, and simply sit and hold my hand.  Companionship is easily avoided when you have been through such a traumatic time.  I'm thankful for these dear people stepping a bit closer than I usually allow towards my guarded heart.

Tomorrow I'm going to attempt to get life back on track.  My little buddy will be here causing havoc, kids will be shipped off to school, and hubby to work.  And nomatter how disastrous tomorrow goes, at the end of the day God willing I will kiss our daughters goodnight and snuggle back into bed with the man who somehow makes me laugh through it all.

Because let's face it,  even when missing CJ to the point of tears, I am very blessed.  And today I'm thankful for a lighter heart to see those blessings. 

Another day without my sweet CJ  on earth, but another day closer to holding him in heaven... #doitforcj

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

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 :)

#doitforcj today and always!

I can't help myself.  I tend to end up in conversations with perfect strangers anytime I am standing in the dreaded eternal Walmart line.

But before I even got that far today, 2 interactions I witnessed had me thinking.  First a mom had a toddler in a car watching a movie on an iPad.  I followed her down a few isles.  The only time she spoke to the child was to warn her if she talked, she would take the iPad away.  My heart broke for the child as well at the mom and the experiences they were missing out on together.

Next in the cosmetics isle, a very excited preteen was shopping for makeup with her dad who was in over his head, but trying.  As she asked him what he thought of the bright blue eye shadow she held up. I resisted the urge to giggle.  God bless him for being present!  I winked at him at I walked by and suggested to her how pretty the pale pink would look instead. She beamed at me as she happily switched to pink and dad mouthed "thank you" as I walked past.   Just taking care of my village I said to myself. Paying it forward.

I finally made it into a line and unloaded my cart. Just as I finished, I was ran into from behind with one of the motorized carts.  I actually lost my balance and fell backwards up against it just as she darted backwards in reverse.  I regained my balance laughing and turned around to find an elderly lady dressed to the nines looking mortified.  I laughed and told her no harm done and offered to empty her basket.  She was so thankful and we chatted while I stacked.  She asked my name, then replied she had a baby she named Jenny and she only lived a few months. I reached over and put my hands on hers and told her I was so sorry and I understand what it feels like to lose a child.  Her eyes filled with tears and she gasped "oh, no! What is your angel's name?".  I told her his full name and added that we call him CJ.  At this point the cashier is waiting for me to pay, but is too caught up in our conversation to complain.  My sweet new friends said to me "I'm going to thank God we meet today".

Me too, Ms. Annie. 

The cashier took my money and I noticed tears in her eyes. While I fumbled for keys, I watched as she loaded my new friend's cart and helped her dial her ride on her huge buttoned cell phone. The next gentleman in line stood smiling patiently. My village was feeling my little boy's love !!

How was your village today?  Did you engage or remain a silent observer?  I'm questioning if I should have engaged the toddler with the  electronic babysitter.  No day is perfect, but I can rest tonight knowing I tried. 

Tomorrow is another day to #doitforcj !!

Mourning more than just our past...

A very special lady who lost her first baby at 8 months has become someone I look up to.  Introduced online, he posts and blogs are so  beautifully positive yet honest.

After a busy day, I finally sat down to do a bit of work on my laptop and opened a window for fb to return a few messages.  The picture that popped up took my breath away.

The picture was of her newest child squatting on the ground touching the picture of his sister on her headstone.  These 2 beautiful children look so much alike and about the same age.  The moment was so sharply beautiful and I'm blessed to witness it.

What extremes.  To stand at your first child's grave with your youngest at the same age as when she was buried.  What strength in faith it must have taken to snap that picture. 

After a few moments smiling in awe, my reality knocked the wind out of me.  That sweet moment of life after loss I may never experienced. 

I have several moms that are such  beautiful examples of thriving after a loss. Every single one has a "rainbow". A rainbow is a living baby born after a loss.  While I can only imagine the anxiety of subsequent pregnancies, my jealousy of every single cherub face is starting to take a toll.

How do I end a chapter of my life with such tragedy?  Will I ever heal the way so many others seem to with the help of those rainbows? There's an ache of empty a arms that is often written about. There is no way to  understand that ache without living the nightmare of losing a child.

It's almost comical in a very dark humor sort of way. When you are 40 and have lost a baby, you never have to worry about people asking you if you plan to have more kids.  Nobody dares to encourage such an idea. The most hurtful comment I have endured was that I should look at this as a chance at a fresh start. Ouch.  Would that be said to a woman in her 20s? Doubtful. She would hear she can always try again. Every time I hear a young mom complain about that comment, I always think how they don't understand how blessed they are to have choices.

Tomorrow I will once again face another day without tiny feet to kiss. Teenagers will come and go and my husband will leave for work. I will be home mostly alone catching up on work and maybe even a bit of sewing.  My heart will ache with every beat. My arms with continue to throb in actual physical pain from being empty. My mind will follow along the unending conversation with my son that began when we shared a body.  On the outside I will be a woman gallantly surviving and thriving after the death of my child.  My soul knows better. 

Some dreams you just can't simply walk away from.  They haunt you every moment of your existence.  Please don't suggest I enjoy the children we already have, or suggest I begin to look forward to our future grandchildren. Those are givens that take absolutely no effort.

Whatever God has planned for us, I pray every day for the peace of heart to accept.  We are starting to make serious plans to relocate in a few years. Plans are a huge step for us. Just a few months ago we considered the same but decided it wasn't time.  We would have been running away.  To see a future is comforting. I'd like a quick peak into who we will be sharing our time on earth with, but for now we just have to leap and see what happens.  Open doors and open hearts will always be available to any soul God finds fit for our path.

As always, I pray for all of you to feel the love of my sweet boy and #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

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

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

Speaking up. .

What a crazy week!  Since CJ was born, there was one major goal that I hoped to achieve one day.  I wanted to help our hospital do better.

I'm not speaking medically.  And for the sake of my own privacy,  I won't go into the medical issues that surrounded our outcome.   But spiritually.

Gasp! Spiritually?  In a place of business?  Because let's face it,  hospitals exist to turn a profit.   But when the tag line they use is "sharing the healing ministries of Christ", they could have done better.

My journey began with the coordinator of a program for infant and pregnancy loss support group through the region.  She and I had several long, tearful conversations.   I have yet to utilize the support group through the hospital to it's full potential because of the burdens I was holding in my heart.

Then an invitation was made.   I was asked to speak in front of a few department heads.  Nervously I accepted.  For the sake of my own healing.   Our simple scheduled meeting turned into 20 clergy/managers/nurses/ support staff crowding into a small conference room to hear my sweet baby boy's story. Tissues were passed, hugs were shared, as I honestly cried my way through the hardest story of my life.

The meeting was recorded,  and with my permission is becoming part of a mandatory curriculum were any hospital employee who deals with grieving families must view.  So many changes have already been implemented because of my sweet little boy.  Instead of changes, I should really say additions.  Additional services and support will be offered for every family facing this nightmare. Hopefully families can walk away with beautiful memories made with their baby.  Every baby.

All because of one little boy.

The fire this has sparked inside of me brings such joy. Even through the tears every moment I get to speak about him is my tangeable proof that he exists.  To see tears of love and support running down the cheeks of so many showed me what I have known all along.   Christian's imprint on this world will be everlasting.

So that's where I've been,  plus recovering from a frantic er trip with kidney stones. As always, your continued prayers are appreciated and needed.  Physical pain seems to aggravate the emotional.

Love, jen

Yep... still there

His headstone is still there.  I checked this morning.  I'm not sure why, but something in my heart isn't computing that this is permanent.  

Then we came home and an overwhelming feeling of needing to run set in.   Luckily my husband and kids were willing participants.  Escaping reality is a journey that we attempt every chance we get.   So we piled into the car, picked up a ridiculous amount of fast food and iced coffee, and headed towards the city.

We ended up popping in on my husband's 87 year old grandmother for an hour, then to the cemetery where my father in law is buried.  To put this into perspective, we have visited his grave once in 18 years.

We were completely unprepared, so after locating the site (which if you have been to a Catholic Chicago cemetery you can imagine that feat after many years! ) we made a quick run to the drugstore for a prayer candle and flag. It felt like such a simple and easy task.  As a family, we laughed as we cleared of the headstone and my husband battled an ant hill. We stood arms around eachother as we have become so accustomed to doing this past year.  A long link of arms holding eachother up even if someone is about to fall.

Eventually we drove home to tackle dinner.  The kids started a pot of sauce while we ran to pick up 2 benches that I had made from parts of Christian's crib. Again,  we were brought to tears seeing new life in something as simple as wood.   The use of his crib may have transformed, but the hope and promise he filled our hearts with was still there.

You see, or reality is completely shifted.  We spend much of our time thinking we are hiding from it, but actually learning to live in it.  Yes,  I meant IN it, not WITH it.   With it would imply we are able to be seperated from it.  It's as if we are learning to live IN a different atmosphere that leaves us gaping for air.  As we relearn to breathe, we learn to force ourselves to attempt calmness. 

Arms around eachother, one day at a time.  We will #doitforcj

It's just a crib...

Today was one of those hard ones.  A test in letting go (as if I really need more experience with THAT one!!).  I loaded up CJ's crib and dropped it off to be made into a different piece of furniture for our home.  I managed to make it all of the way home before tears just couldn't be held back.

I really believe in sharing my journey, so I posted about it.  And as always, the support warmed my heart!  But 2 messages had me pondering assumptions.  So while I know in my heart I owe no explanations on how and what I do to heal, I want to set the record straight. 

Repurposing CJ's crib was not a declaration that there will never be another baby in our home.  It's significance is really simple- a crib set up in our home is difficult for all of us, but packing it away is even harder.  I spent a lot of time thinking/praying on what to do.  My heart told me what I already knew.  No baby could ever replace our sweet Christian. And no baby should ever be in his shadow.  We should all live in his light.  In my heart I know I could never put my own child or even future grandchild in his crib without it be horribly painful.  My decision was very easy- just as I would do with any piece of furniture I love, it needs a new purpose.  I will share pictures when it is returned.

Living under a magnifying glass tends to walk hand in hand with losing a child.  With an abundance of support comes a few preying eyes.  Please do not assume that any part of my family's journey is over.   We waited many years to be blessed with CJ and we simply are open to whatever possibilities happen for us.   I am searching for ways to keep him not only in our hearts, but part of our every day lives.  A dream was not traded in today.  Simply a crib.

Giggles to migraines

I'm trying to decide if I hit a big emotional speedbump yesterday, or simply had a migraine on a stormy day.

Family parties are stressful and typically avoided.  But to my surprise I was really looking forward to seeing family this weekend.  I enjoyed shopping for a gift and looked forward to laughter and chatting.

And everything seemed like it was going well. We were off on our own (which is normal for this family group) laughing with our kids and visiting with a few family members.  As the moments ticked by, I caught a few glances, a few hands placed uncomfortably on my shoulder, and eventually a few heads together whispering while looking in my direction. Yet nobody was asking how I really was.  Nobody said CJ's name.  My neck started to become indescribably hot as a crazy thunderstorm swept in.  My blood pressure because to rise and my eyesight strained.  Eventually panicked started to set in as the pain began to tighten across my forehead.  It was like having a metal band across my forehead that was being tightened slowly.

My husband and kiddos agreed to leave without a fight.  I remember getting into the car, but the next thing I remember is waking up around 3am fully clothed in bed.  I changed and drank the large soda left for me by sweet kiddos and went right back to sleep.  This lasted 18 hours.

Today was spent being mom.  Cooking a big dinner, playing cards with the family, and even feeding drop in boyfriends (of the girls' of course!).  But I have to wonder, almost with embarrassment, what happened to me yesterday.  One giant step backwards, our simply a migraine from crazy summer weather?

Some answers I will never truly have answered.  Some days will always be harder than others.  Yet somehow knowing that tomorrow is another chance for healing gives me hope.  Hope that the laughter that echoed through the house as we dove for spoons while playing cards somehow balances out the days when I need to crawl into my cave for 18 hours.

Wishing all my fellow answer seekers the ability to put those thoughts aside and rest.  Or even better, laugh!   #doitforcj