There's always a rainbow around the corner

On my way home from work today, the train conductor announced that we were going to have to de-board at the next station due to some mechanical issue.  Usually this type of issue frustrates me.. trains are supposed to be reliable but it happens so often that they aren't.  I didn't feel frustrated today, though I felt bad for hubby who was picking me up from the park-n-ride.  It meant he'd have to sit there and wait.  Unpredictability.  It always shows up sometime doesn't it.

As I stepped off the train, I suddenly realized that I was listening to Iris, by the Goo Goo Dolls.  How had this song been on for about a minute without my even noticing?  Well, no wonder I didn't mind that the train had problems causing me to be late.  This all happened right after I saw a rainbow of sorts on a girl's backpack who was waiting for the train on the opposite side of the platform.  The station we'd just left when the service announcement was made about stepping off the train.  On the backpack was what looked like key-chains.  The generic kind, a small oval plastic piece with a ring.  They didn't make up the colors of a traditional rainbow, but there were several colors, all one on top of the others.

These signs from my son today made it a great one.  Seeing that he sent me a unique rainbow, I think it's the perfect time to share the poem my aunt wrote about Preston.  Whenever I need to be comforted that even though there isn't a real rainbow in the sky for me to look at and think of Preston, rainbows exist everywhere around me.  I just have to be open to seeing them.  This poem always makes me smile, and thankful for living in such a beautiful world.  Thank you aunt Jocelyn. xxx

Preston’s Rainbow

by Jocelyn Cox

You see his face in the morning,

You feel his love every night

You long to touch him again

And to hold him very tight.

You remember his cute smile

The way he could made you laugh

His love of bright colours

And his sweet photographs.

Each day endured without him

Brings tears to your hearts

As you try to understand

Why you were torn apart.

His room stands silently by

 Bear pictures upon the wall

Each cub can tell a story

Of how he was loved by all.

He left you very quickly

He couldn't say goodbye

But in your hearts you hold him

And know he is safe on high.

Each morning the sun rises

Brilliant yellow in the sky,

As purple-blue martins

On the horizon wing by.

 Red roses in the garden grow

Nearby pink tulips bent

While lavender lilac bushes

Waft forth their heavenly scent.

The old marmalade cat

 Head held high in the air

 Quickly passes you by

 He doesn’t have a care.

In every perfect colour

Made to set your hearts aglow

Painted carefully by God

Are reflections of a Rainbow.

Preston’s love of colour

Around you all abounds

No matter where you look

Like rainbows they can be found.

His love is bountiful

He shows it in every hew

Open yourselves to it

And know he is with you.

He will always prove to you

On rainy days and sun alike,

That his love for you is endless

As his rainbow of love shines bright.

Haven in a garden

My post from yesterday inspired me to go take a look at the little triangle of garden we have in the front of our house.  I attempted to clean it up last fall, but after seeing it, I still have some work to do.  Grass had begun growing through the landscaping fabric so I just decided to rip it out and start fresh.  I guess I forgot that I also needed to trim everything once winter came... or perhaps my mind just tucked it somewhere deep inside as that would have entailed being out in the cold - not my favorite activity!

Despite the mess that still exists in this small area, the tulips are starting to grow.  Exciting!  Additionally, there's these other plants that are growing.  Perhaps you can help me figure out what's growing!  The leaves are rather large and have dark lines on them.  The only thing I remember planting are the following: Sweet Pea, Forget-Me-Not and Sweet William.  I've seen Sweet William before, my mother has some in her gardens back in Montreal, and I really don't think that's what there are.  So what could it be???

I'm so curious to find out what it is that I've planted that's already growing?  I sincerely hope that these flowers survive whatever weather the Spring has in store for us.  I hope even more to soon see colorful flowers in this garden.  It can become a haven - a place I can go to reminisce about my son, about our happy times.  A place where I could possibly conjure up thoughts of what he might be up to in Heaven.

In the meantime, can someone help me figure out what plant these leaves below to?  I sure hope they are a flower, and not some crazy weed :) 

The subtle arrival of spring

I don't remember much about the last Spring season aside from just trying to put one foot in front of the other as I battled through the early stages of grief.  The Easter aisles as well as the decorations in the supermarkets give me pause as I navigate quickly past them, frightened of the memories that might come flooding back.  I could hardly step into the supermarkets at this time last year without feeling like I was about to lose it.  Reminders of what I'd just lost slapping me in the face at every turn.  I do not wish to revive these illicit thoughts and feelings.

Earlier this week, I was riveted by the white blooming flowers that had begun adorning the trees.  How had I not noticed them in the days before?  It's as though they had so slyly started budding. Faintly and slowly, making it difficult to notice until obvious.

Spring is here.  Winter storms may be bound to return, as they do year after year but as the grass grows greener, as tulips begin to break through the ground and as the trees continue to bud, hope floats.  Life is renewing.  A scary thought in many ways.  Alternatively, a true form of inspiration to build on.

As Spring insidiously makes it's presence known, I hold on to my memories of Preston and make way for the rainbows that are about to adorn the sky and hopefully, my life as a whole.

Positive distractions

I know what you are thinking.. I'm obsessed with the black & white color pop option from Adobe Photoshop.  You would be correct... I think it makes for really sweet pictures!


I recently saw a picture that listed positive distractions and I thought it would be a healing experience to list things that I would consider to be good diversions.  It would be a good list to read every now and then.  Possibly a valuable listing for others in search of something that isn't destructive when they need a moment of escape.  This is my attempt at it anyway.

• Make a nice cup of tea.  Add honey and lemon if you like.  I've never been unhappy sipping a cup of hot tea with lemon and honey.
• Take a nature walk.  This can be a simple walk in a park or a small clearing.  Take in the beauty of the flowers and trees.  If it is wintertime, breathe in the cool air, and admire a fresh patch of snow.  If all else fails, lay in the grass and just take deep breaths.
• Draw a hot bath.  Add scented oils or crystals and light a few candles.  A most relaxing ritual for me.  And if you need to cry... a hot bath can be a wonderful place to do it.  No one to see you, no one to judge you.
• Bake cookies.  Everyone loves a good cookie.  It doesn't have to be complicated, get a simple package of Betty Crocker Sugar Cookie Mix and some cookie icing and you are good to go.  Once cookies are baked, eat a cookie!
• Watch a sporting event - a hockey game or baseball game can be a good distraction for a couple hours.  Invest yourself into cheering for your favorite teams.
• Watch a talent show like "The Voice" or even "Dancing with The Stars" where everyone is happy.  I always smile when I watch "The Voice" because it's nice to see people attempting to fulfill their dream of making it as a singer.  I always smile because Adam Levine and Blake Shelton's bickering makes me giggle.  I can't decide who I like more!!!!
• Write.  Let it flow.  Whatever comes out, perhaps you just need to release it, even if it's just a file that remains saved on your desktop for no one to ever read, even yourself.
• Cuddle.  With your significant other.  With a pet.  With your children.  With your best friend.
• Dine out with a friend.  Doesn't have to be at a fancy restaurant, a simple homemade meal can be just what you need.
• Listen to happy, "poppy" songs - Pharell's "Happy", Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA", "I Knew You Were Trouble" by Taylor Swift, or maybe even her most recent "Shake It Off".  These are the songs that came to mind first, but I'm sure you have your favorites!
• Dance.  Add a layer to listening to those happy songs.  Let loose and dance away in your living room.  Feeling crazy, open the blinds and let the neighbors watch, LOL.
• Read a good book.  
• If the time is right, look at pictures of Preston.. especially ones where he is similing.
• Call up someone you haven't talked to in a while. Just because.
• Watch the sunrise, or the sunset.
• Plant a garden.

What makes your list of positive distractions?  Could you see doing something on this list that would help clear your head when you are having a rough go?

One lone star

I had trouble falling asleep on Thursday night.  It must have been at least 1:00 am when I finally drifted off.  This was however, hours after I had been in bed.  Too many thoughts going on in my mind I guess.  Fantasy baseball picks, the party menu and planning for Saturday, work, getting the house in order, and of course Preston.

What would he be like?  Why did we have to lose him?  Maybe I was too selfish when we had him which meant I didn't deserve him?  I thought of his smile, and his coo.  I remembered reading bedtime stories to him.

I tried watching some Pretty Little Liars episodes to help clear my mind.  It worked to some extent, until I caught glimpse of something bright peaking through the blinds.  A lone star.  No other stars were visible.  I don't always think of Preston when I see stars, but I certainly did that night.  I'd passed by the hospital where he was born earlier that day, where they have a new banner which states "where stars are born".

Everyone has the potential of becoming a bright star.  By this I mean, it's possible for anyone to change someone's life.  Preston is my bright star.  He changed me, my life.  Through life and death.  He continues to, over a year later.

As the hours ticked away on Thursday night, the star moved across my window, always visible through one of the slats of the window shade.  It oddly brought me reassurance.  Reassurance that I shouldn't beat myself up for whatever I was worrying about.  Comfort that I didn't do anything wrong as a mom with Preston.  Confidence that I'd figure things out, whatever those things might be.  I'd figure out how to get everything ready on time for the party.

I will remember this lone star for a long time, and hope to recall it anytime I need inspiration.  Especially inspiration to believe in myself.  Inspiration to be someone else's bright star.

So little time...

So little time... lately it feels like I don't have time to do anything.  I hope that having the house back to normal this weekend will help with that.  It's getting really close - we have furniture in the living room again as of tonight!  Additionally, my cold, which is still with me, has certainly hindered my motivation and energy levels.  Each day, on the train ride home, I start mapping out what I want to write about and it just hasn't worked out for me during this past week, or couple weeks even.  We've been dealing with the renovations, I'm working on planning our baseball fantasy draft party on Saturday, all the while trying to make sure I myself am ready for the actual draft.  Who do I really want on my team?!

The renovations are coming to an end, for now anyway.  The floor is finally finished (good job honey!).  The bathroom/laundry room is as done as it's gonna be for now, despite part of the floor which we'll have to re-do because of a leak (bummer I know!!!).  I use "we" very liberally.  My hubby is the handyman, and I'm pretty much just a cheerleader.  We still have to paint behind the washer and dryer.. but really for now, who can tell???? :)

Living room floor sneak peak

Regarding fantasy baseball, it's the 3rd year that we host a baseball fantasy draft at our house.  Brett is the league commissioner and takes care of all the rules, sending out the league owners (including him and I) information, creating contests and just getting everything set up.  He also recruits new people to join the league, and keeps the current players interested.  I've helped out by recording everyone's picks and supplying food.  This year, I'm a little more hands on and I've created the draft kits, ensured that we'll have a conference line and a screen-sharing option for the league owners that are out of town.  This year's draft party will feature a taco bar, margaritas (thanks to the MargaritaVille machine my in-laws lent us) and baseball shaped cookies & cupcakes! I'm really excited and I hope everything goes smoothly.

I did fairly well the first year we did fantasy baseball.  I finished 3rd.  Last year,  I started out with my heart out of it, and well, I finished last.  You see, I'd foreseen what the 2014 draft was going to be like.  I'd have Preston on my lap and he'd "help" me make my picks.  I'd be sure to win!  Okay, maybe not, but I really had pictured having Preston be part of the festivities.  We held our draft just a week after he passed away.  For those who attended, I hope that you were able to have fun and that it wasn't an awkward evening.  Everything was still so fresh... I remember having a good time that evening.  I had made Rachel Ray's "Pulled Chipotle Chicken and Fixin's" which still makes a regular appearance on my weekly menus.  However, I do remember struggling with picking a team.  I hadn't prepared much, if at all.

Granted, my season didn't only go poorly because draft night wasn't what I'd envisioned.  My team was riddled with injuries from the get go.  I kept refusing to trade.  I just really wanted to see what my players could do, at least the healthy ones, or when they returned from injury.  I also hurt my team by placing Matt Harvey on my DL all year, so that I could keep him (we have a keeper league) for the 2015 season when he would return from Tommy John surgery.  I'd just gotten him in 2013 by trading away one of my best hitters and wanted to be able to get bang for my buck if you will.  So that right there basically meant that I was sacrificing my 2014 season.  I had trouble staying interested all year.  Part of it being due to injuries, part of it being due to the fact that I basically decided I couldn't win, and part of it being because I was still grieving heavily.

As much as I had trouble getting into the league last year, I'm super stoked for this year.  I'm not super well versed in where the best pitcher versus hitter ballparks are.  I know players on the Cubs because of how much of a fan my hubby is.  I know the Rockies because they are so well covered here.  I know the NL West pretty well because of how much they play the Rockies... and then I know the superstars because they are so talked about.  That's kind of where my knowledge ends.  I'm not great with prospects.  I'm not great in knowing who I'm going to pick in the late rounds.  So I'm studying, and that takes time...

Speaking of time.  Time really flies by.  I often find myself in disbelief as to where time has gone.  Today, I celebrate my 8 year anniversary with my husband.  Eight years ago, we sealed our fate by signing paperwork that made us husband and wife for life.  In the eyes of the country, of our families and of God.  It seems like we've been married for ages, yet at the same time, I can't believe it's been 8 years already.

Wishing my wonderful husband a happy anniversary and I hope that our love continues to grow and that we can soon have that family we've always dreamed of having.  I'm so proud to call myself your wife. <3 Love you always.

March 19, 2007 at the Courthouse :)

Vanishing act

Unlike the snow on mountain tops which disappear slowly over time, year after year, firsts in regards to Preston have just about vanished out of my life, for good.

I believe it was my mother in law who mentioned to me on Friday, that the firsts were now all over.  No more first Easter without Preston.  No more first birthday.  No more first Christmas.  No more first time we hit the one year mark since losing him.  Now there will be seconds, thirds, tenths, etc.

Perhaps the firsts aren't always the hardest.  I don't know, I haven't lived the seconds of anything yet.  I see it this way though - I survived all the firsts, I can survive all the rest.  Will it be easy? No.  Will it be easier? Who knows?  I would prefer not to have gone through the firsts, or have to go through the seconds and thirds.  I wish I was going through a whole different set of firsts and seconds.

Friday didn't quite mark the last of the firsts.  A year ago today, Preston's memorial service was held.  On Thursday (I think), is when we brought him home.  In a few days time, he'll have been sitting on our dresser, unmoved, for a year.  I believe, that will be the true end of all the firsts relating to losing Preston.

Does that bring me comfort?  Again, maybe only in the way of having survived all the firsts.  In some ways, it's also a sad realization.  The realization that this really isn't a dream.  My son is gone.  I long for the day we are reunited in Heaven.  As Krystal has told me many times, every day that goes by, means one day closer to our reunion in the kingdom of God.


Preston's memorial was incredibly difficult to plan.  I'm thankful for the help we had with making decisions.  Thankful for the things that were said to us, because we couldn't see past the fog of having just lost our son.  I'd originally wanted to bury Preston, so that we could go visit him as often as we wanted.  Someone then mentioned to me, what if you move?  What if you move out of state one day?  Perhaps, get an urn, for now, and make a decision like that later.  It had never even crossed my mind that life might take us elsewhere one day.  We just don't know.  Don't make life changing decisions for at least one year.  That was another piece of advice, from someone who'd lost a daughter.  I think we had broached the subject of possibly moving out of our house - which upset me terribly at the time.  Actually, it still does.  I don't want to move, ever.

The memorial was a painful event to go through, but I am ever so thankful we did have one.  Preston's life touched so many lives, the ones of our friends and family.  A year later, I believe he's touched hundreds more lives - in Heaven and on Earth.

On that day last year, seeing the support we received on such short notice, showed us how much Preston's love had spread all around us.  The support of those who attended, of those who helped us plan this memorial, and of those who you could just tell wished they could have been there was just absolutely overwhelming. Thank you all <3.

I never sent out thank yous for those who attended, for those who wanted to come.  I wanted to, but didn't have the words to express my gratitude.  I hope you all know how much it meant to us to share our son with you, whether you had gotten the chance to meet him, hold him, love him.  I hope the stories that were told, helped you get to know him a little better.  I hope it opened up your heart to letting him in at a later time.

It was a memorial like no other.  I haven't attended many memorials or funerals, but usually, this is an event where you celebrate someone's long life.  Where you applaud their accomplishments, where you laugh at the best memories you shared.  Preston's life was so short, there wasn't much to celebrate.  There were memories, but nothing that compares to a lifetime of memories.  Nonetheless everyone who spoke paid a wonderful homage to my son.  I wasn't strong enough to talk to everyone.  I don't know that I'd be today.  My "writing" voice is much louder than my "speaking" voice.  It is much easier for me to write than it is to speak.  It is much easier to keep writing, even if tears fall down my cheeks, than to try and get through a speech, when I can't hold back the tears.

The day before the memorial, I wrote about my son, and my father in law volunteered to read it to all those in attendance.  I'm ever so grateful for my "voice" being heard that day.  He was great.  He even used all the tones I would have used as he read it.

So on this note, below is the "speech" I wrote for Preston's memorial.  I share it with you today, as the firsts related to the loss of Preston perform a disappearing act...

I don't have the strength to go up and talk about my son today, but I still want the world to know the following:

He was the best baby a mother and father could ever ask for.  He was the most beautiful baby I've ever seen, and I'm most likely jaded since I was his mother, but I still truly believe that to be true.  He was also the easiest baby; he cried only when he was really hungry, when he was wet and when he was really tired.  He was usually really hungry in the morning after a good night's sleep.  He was often wet, even with just a drop, and he just had to have a new diaper.  He got cranky when he would get really tired, kind of like his dad.  But it didn't take much to make those things better.  A bottle, a new diaper and rocking him to sleep.  I loved rocking him and falling asleep was sometimes instanteneaous.  Even though I could use the sleep, I sometimes spent an extra hour holding him, just because.

He was such a happy child.  He loved to smile, laugh and giggle in his own unique way.  He lit up our world.  There was no such thing as having a bad day anymore, because he made everything bad go away just as soon as you saw his face.  He loved his bouncy chair, and his swing.  He liked to go out for walks, just as long as it wasn't too cold or too bright.  Sounds just like his mama.  He didn't love tummy time, but he did it nonetheless and did a great job.  He rolled over at 15 weeks (or 10 weeks if you adjust his age).  I never got to see it, although he almost did it for me last week.  He turned all the way to his side, and then right back to his tummy.

From the moment he came home, he loved to look at the beautiful painting of Boulder we have up on our wall.  It is full of colors and he would just stare at it during his feedings.  He liked to look at the Cubs blanket that sits on Daddy's recliner.  He loved to watch Big Cats, hockey and baseball with us.  All that movement intrigued him so.

He loved when we would blow on his belly or on his feet.  A big smile erupted on his face.  He enjoyed "this little piggy" for a few weeks and lately loved when I would pull my tongue out at him and make funny noises.  I never heard him laugh as much and so loud.  It was the most wonderful sound in the world.  I miss it so much.  He was such a smart little boy, pulling his tongue right back at me.

From the time he was born, he had an affinity to want to crawl.  I would place him on my chest and he would lift his head.  Such a strong boy.  He also crawled up my chest several times.  On his tummy, he would try to crawl though it looked more like he was a swimming like a frog.  He would inch up though.  Hard to believe something so small can do something so amazing.

He had recently started grabbing things more and more.  He liked to hold his onesie when we changed him, and even started grabbing at his diaper.. that could have gotten messy.  Just a few days ago, he started grabbing his feet like they were a new toy.  He liked music; his soft lullabies and the music I like as well.  He was so close to being able to sit on his own.  His neck was getting so strong.

He was my little fighter.  He made it into this world despite hard circumstances.  He fought every day in the NICU to get stronger to be able to come home.  Despite his small size, he reached milestones just like other babies.  Some milestones took longer to reach, while others were so ahead of the curve.  He was more special and changed our lives more than I could have ever thought possible.  I'm so thankful to have known such a perfect little boy.  My heart is broken, but he will always be in my heart.  We have a true angel watching over us now.  I promise to talk to him every day and remind him that I love him.  No one will ever replace him or have more of an impact than he had on my life.  I am forever grateful to have known him, even if it was for way too short of a time.

Mama loves you buddy.  You're her sweet pea, her cutie patudie, her big boy, and her lovie. 

I didn't ever want to say goodbye, but I had to.  I will miss you and love you forever.

One year ago already

Today marks one year on a calender.  One year since my son gained eternal life.  Krystal, thank you for putting it this way.  I like it better than most alternatives.

Today is one of those days, those "milestone" days where I would expect to be totally sad.  A day where I feel my whole being telling me that I should be in excruciating pain in remembrance of the events that transpired Thursday, March 13, 2014.  I felt some of that yesterday too.  There's a big difference between should and what is.  Preston should be here with his mom and dad, but he's in Heaven instead.

My goal wasn't, isn't to go into a should vs. reality rant.  My goal is simply to say, today feels like most days.  The recollections from this day last year, don't just come on these significant days.  They appear in my mind sporadically.  Most often, as I drive by the hospital.  Often, when it's late at night and I can't sleep.  To tell you those images didn't enter my mind today would be a lie.  I had my deep grief moment around 3:30, which is around the time I found out Preston had stopped breathing last year.  I saw the clock, and I froze.  I shed some tears, and ached for my son.  And then I got right back to helping my hubby with painting our half bathroom slash laundry room.

Today, is not a day I want to celebrate.  I've said it several times, I wish I could erase this day from all future calendars.  Since I can't, I wish it to be as "normal" a day as possible.  Not knowing what to expect, I did take the day off.  I slept in, watched a bit of TV and helped my husband with the renovation projects he's been working on all week.  I hope to have a nice quiet evening, attempting to "heal" some friends and strangers as they attempt to defeat the monsters in a World of Warcraft dungeon.  It sounds geeky, and maybe it seems to be a weird way to spend today, but it is night and day to how we spent this day last year, and that to me, sounds perfect.

When I look back on this day, whether it's tomorrow, or 3 years from now, I will not remember it as the day I spent remembering the day I lost my son.  I will remember it as a day of love, filled with rainbows, color and support.  The forecast today predicted a rainstorm.  I was hoping for it, because I thought it might mean the first rainbow of the year, which would have been perfect for today.  There was no rainstorm, rather a few sprinkles around noon which lasted a whole 2 minutes.

No rainbow in the sky? No problem! I got several rainbows.  I got a gift bag from Wanda yesterday, adorned with tissue papers of rainbow colors.  It also had spiraled ribbons as colorful as rainbows.  This bag contained the stone bunny pictured above, for Preston's garden.  Simply perfect Wanda.  It was totally not necessary but I appreciate it so much.  It warms my heart and I can't wait to get Preston's garden ready for Spring.  Even more so now.

We received a beautiful plant from Charles & Kate.  Bromeliads.  Orange, and red and purple.  The colors of this plant pop, and really remind me of Preston.  We thank you for that and driving all the way to our place to give it to us.  You guys are just amazing.

Jarad and Katie got us a gift certificate to a plant nursery.  It'll be nice to get something and plant it in Preston's memory.  Thank you guys.  It means so much to us.

We received beautiful cards, bundles of text messages, Facebook messages and posts, and I had several messages on the BBC forums.  I also got beautiful Jamberry nail coverings from Jamie.  They are rainbows.  I wanted to wear them this week, but with the renovations, I decided to wait until things are back to normal in our house so that I can enjoy them.

And so, on this day, I hope that my message continues to go around the world.  Spread a little happiness whenever you can.  A little happiness can go a long way for someone.  And if you need a reason to do it, do it for Preston.  Do it in his memory.  Do it because it makes him smile, as he looks down on us, perched on a perfect, fluffy white cloud.

Finally, I'd like to share this poem I found last night.  I don't know the author, but it seemed to be fitting:

On The Anniversary of the Day You Went Away

Today's the anniversary

Of the day that I lost you,

And for a time it felt as though

My life had ended too.

But loss has taught me many things

And now I face each day,

With hope and happy memories

To help me on my way.

And though I'm full of sadness

That you're no longer here,

Your influence still guides me

And I still feel you near.

What we shared will never die

It lives within my heart,

Bringing strength and comfort

While we are apart.

I love you Preston.  Forever and ever. 

Where I've been hiding out

To my blog readers-

I apologize for not having written a lot so far this month.  I'm not in a terrible place, but I've been sick.  Nothing serious, just a head cold.  Last week, I just felt miserable.  A lot of sneezing and coughing and just feeling blah.  The cold has stayed with me, thanks to my good ol' compromised immune system, but I am feeling better.  No blah, less sore throat, though you couldn't tell by hearing me speak - sometimes it feels like my voice just stops, other times it squeaks... it makes me laugh at least.   Hopefully though, I just continue to feel better, slowly but surely.

So my head cold has kept me distracted, and tired, but I've also had another case of writer's block.  It's interesting considering I have a list of like 30 topics I want to write about.  I guess it also takes the right mood sometimes, right?  I just have been feeling uninspired to write, and hopefully that's ok.  Don't want to let Preston down, but I guess mama needed a little break.

I don't know what the next couple days will bring.  While Preston passed away on 3/13/14, and the one year mark of that is this Friday, he passed away on a Thursday.. which would make the "one year mark" tomorrow too.  The anticipation of everything has been really difficult to deal with.  And although I've learned throughout this last year, that often, anticipation is worse than actually reaching any kind of "anniversary", I still don't know what to expect every time one of them is around the corner.  I guess the nice thing about this cold has been that it's been a distraction for the first part of the month.  It's already the 11th and albeit the first several days of March, I haven't felt overly emotional.

I know a lot of this is due to all the prayers coming my way.  I thank you for those.  I really truly do.  I wouldn't be where I am today without them.


To leave you on a more positive note, I was browsing Twitter earlier and saw something of interest.  I don't tweet a lot.  I joined to follow a few friends years ago, and then started following all the GH stars I like, and now I follow like 175 people/causes.. I'm not on there too much, but sometimes there are fun things to read.  One of the trending subjects today is #GoodAdviceIn4Words.  I like that, it seems possible and I read some pretty good ones, I thought I'd share:

• Do it for you
• You are not alone
• Never give up. Ever.
• Sit down and write (that's for me! Who needs motivation, just write!!)
• There's no secret ingredient
• Be kind to yourself
• Never ever trust A (Pretty Little Liars reference)
• Always keep moving forward
• You have a purpose

Mine to you:  Spread Happiness For Preston

Basically, do kind things whenever possible.  It makes him smile. It makes me smile.

Much love to everyone <3

PoP Workshop: Session 4

In session 3 of the Pursuit of Purpose workshop, Rachel made us look at a fact of life: We have a need to be right.  This may not be something I discussed in my own post for workshop 3, but it was in the back of my mind as I typed up my blog entry and wrote my "foundation".  I will quote a passage from her blog entry, because I really think it's powerful:

We have an event. We create a story. Then we subconsciously seek out experiences that will validate our story because our need to be right trumps everything else we say we want. And so it goes around and around.

As Rachel mentions, thankfully, in life, we have choices to make.  We can make our stories positive instead of negative.  We can find the little good in our events of brokenness and help it redefine our stories.  Easy to do? Probably not.  Will it happen overnight?  Again, it's doubtful.  BUT...  If you start by changing your story today, you will be headed in the right direction.

And so, here I go creating stories that better serve me, my way of life, and who I want to be.

Depression: There is a lot of good in my life to keep me motivated.

Miscarriage(s): My journeys have shaped me into who I am, and it has better prepared me for future hardships.  It will continue to guide me.

Health Issues: The right attitude is half the battle. Keep at it!

Losing Preston: I am deserving of God's love and understanding.  I deserve to mother a living child.  I will survive and find a way to help others find their way to heal.

And now, while my original stories weren't completely negative, I do feel ready to let go of the negativity that remained attached to them.  I need to let go of it.

Let em burn...

PoP Workshop: Session 3

For the full explanation of the workshop, please visit Rachel's blog entry: Pursuit of Purpose: Session 3

This has been a tough exercise for me.  We are to use the events of brokenness we defined for ourselves in session 1 to establish what meaning we attach to each of these events.

Like Rachel mentions in her blog entry, I also believe that it's human nature to make sense of everything that happens to us, especially when that something, is not a good thing.  And for the most part, we do attach a negative meaning to these events.  "I must have done something wrong" is a thought I'm sure most of us have had at some point in our lives.

Finding the negative meanings in relation to my events of brokenness is difficult.  Not for all of them, but for several of them because I feel like I've been able to put those pessimistic views about them behind me.  I've grown.  So, I dug deep to see if I still somehow had negative connotations linked to these events.  For those I didn't, I used a notion that I had in the past.

Depression

Now, I am not a doctor, and I was never diagnosed with depression, but I do strongly believe that I developed it in the months after moving the to States.  I was uprooted.  I didn't have a job, couldn't have a job for 6 months, and I knew next to no one.  When I first found out I wouldn't be able to work for 6 months, I was actually excited! Extended vacation!! No, not at all.  I had zero motivation to get anything done.  I let fear control me - not knowing my surroundings, not being comfortable with the new speed limits and the miles versus kilometers.  I let it run my life.  When I finally was able to get a job and got a job, things finally fell into place.  I was a "little" more outgoing, I wasn't as frightful about everything.  So now, the meanings I attach to my depression, the beliefs I have in them, I try to steer clear of, so that I do not go down that path again.

• Unmotivated
• Fear
• Disorganized
• Indiffirence

And steering clear of these, not always easy.  Let me tell ya...

Miscarriage

I remember all too well the emptiness I felt when I first saw blood during my pregnancy in 2012.  I knew.  Then the tests, the silence of the ultrasound tech.  The look in the nurses' eyes, and the squeezing of my hand.  And then the doctor saying "I'm sorry, there's no heartbeat".  Crushed.  Devastated.  This baby that I'd wanted for so long, that we'd wanted for so long but that we had needed to put off due to my health.  I felt responsible.  I felt like this wasn't meant to be for me.

A few months later, I was in the hospital due to sharp, unending pangs of pain in my chest and in my back.  I was diagnosed with a bowel obstruction.  I would have been 13-14 weeks pregnant with the baby we'd just lost.  It had been a blessing in disguise that our little one stopped growing at 6 weeks, even though we didn't find out until 3 weeks later.  My health was not good.  My condition would have made for a most difficult pregnancy.  Even if the baby didn't somehow suffer the consequences of my illness, I can't see that it would have been a healthy baby.  Would I have loved this baby even if it wasn't? Hell yes!  However, I wouldn't ever want to see a child, never mind my child, be in pain because of something I did, even if I don't really have total control over my health.  What would the pain meds have done to my child?  Could I have gotten better without meds?  I was so weakened because I couldn't eat.  I was nauseous all the time and I'm not talking morning sickness here.  I can't imagine it would have given quality of life to my child.  My GI always says, healthy mom equals healthy baby.  I would only assume that the opposite rings true.  

I suspect that I was pregnant again when I went in for this bowel obstruction, in May 2012.  It was never confirmed, but the timing of the bleeding.. I just know.  I didn't take it as hard, given the circumstances of my health, but it was something I thought about a lot.  I grieved, but it was very short lived.

The notions I attach to my miscarriage(s)?  I've had a hard time with this one.

• Acceptance
• Empathy

Health Issues

Growing up, an upset stomach was a common occurrence for me.  Test after test, nothing.  There's nothing wrong with me.  Yet, all those times in the bathroom where I felt so sick, so ill that I'd plead with God, "why me", "what did I do to deserve this".  Over dramatic?  Maybe, but severe pain can do crazy things to your mind.

It wasn't until I was 18 that I found out that yes, something what wrong with me.  I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease, an incurable disease, and prescribed 15 pills to take every day.  Quite the blow to my 18 year old self.  It was something I struggled with, mentally and physically for years and years.

ER visits became almost yearly occurrences.  I would shy away from social engagements for fear of eating something my body wouldn't tolerate.  Crohn's can be an embarrassing disease, if you let it.  I struggled with the ups and downs of flare-ups for over a decade.  I was tired all the time, without even realizing it.  I constantly had to learn to shift my diet to what my body had decided to digest for a specific period of time.  I had to completely cut out certain foods from my diet.  It was a lot of adjusting, and re-adjusting.

With time, I began to understand my body a lot better.  It's difficult to trust it completely, because from flare to flare, what my body tolerates is different.  I haven't flared since my surgery in October 2012, but that possibility is always present and it tends to make me nervous when in unfamiliar territory.  Remicade, the drug protocol I'm on to "maintain" Crohn's, or keep flares at bay if you rather, has helped me regain trust in my body.  It's helped bring back some stability.

Unfortunately, my health issues haven't been limited to Crohn's.

During the late stages of my pregnancy with Preston, I developed pre-eclampsia, and soon after, the HELLP syndrome.  Pre-eclampsia is a condition some women develop during pregnancy, usually later stage of pregnancy, with the primary symptom of elevated blood pressure. The HELLP syndrome is a liver disorder, life-threatening disorder that is.  This disorder causes your red blood cells to breakdown, your liver enzymes to increase and your platelet counts to go down.  Put all that together and it's pretty scary.  Not only was my baby in danger, but my own life was in danger.  Worse part is, none of the symptoms were obvious, and they weren't painful... How does one know??  The cure?  Giving birth is supposed to make the symptoms of both pre-ecalmpsia and HELLP syndrome go away withing 2-3 days.  My blood pressure stayed elevated for months, and I had to be on meds for over 6 months.  My baby was born way underweight, like if I hadn't been eating for months.  He had no "chub".  Aside from that, he was perfectly fine.  Just a little small, and a little too early.  He caught up fast.  To this day though, I feel like I didn't give him the best chance.  I feel like my body failed me, when it was most important that it didn't.

Still, to this day, I wish I had gone to see my doctor sooner.  My swelling was abnormal.  My weight gain in a week, alarming.  Somehow though, my blood pressure was fine when I went to the doctor on November 18, 2013.  It was normal.  Other signs concerned them though so they drew blood for testing and told me to be prepared to go to the hospital that night.  And we did.  I was given medicines to make my blood pressure drop fast.  Quite honestly, I don't remember much about that night, or the whole next day.  I remember being told I was going for a c-section and vaguely remember holding Preston for the first time.  I wish I remembered more considering I just have 16 weeks of memories.  Premature birth is a risk factor for SIDS.  That there alone has been a difficult factor for me to swallow.  I didn't trust my gut to go see the doctor earlier.  Maybe I could have gone on bed rest and he would have gone full term and he'd still be here today.

I could drive myself crazy right now, like I have before.  I won't.  I cannot change the past.  I cannot change the way my body works, or rather doesn't work.  That being said, what notions do I tie with my health issues?

• Strength 
• Fear
• Perseverance

Losing Preston

I still struggle with the fact that my baby boy is no longer on this Earth.  I struggle with it every day, yet find a way to go about my day.  I survive.  Some days, it's easier to survive, while others, it's hard just to breathe.  I've tried to find new motivations, new passions.  Some have worked, some have not.  Since walking out of the fog that was the early stages of grief, I've needed to share my son with the world, or at least try to.  I've needed to share my feelings, my grief, my way, with others, in the hopes of touching one person going through a difficult time.  Hoping that perhaps, one step that I've taken, is what they feel they need to do.  Hoping that maybe it shows others that while it feels impossible to survive the loss of a child, it is possible, through terribly difficult.

What notions do I attach to losing my son?  So many, but probably most of all:

• Losing my faith in God
• Hopelessness
• Not meant to have children
• Survival

Those are my beliefs.  We tend to turn these beliefs into stories, our stories.  After a lot of meditation, here are mine.

Depression: When unmotivated, my being becomes unorganized, fearful, and susceptible to the dark side.  The more that is true, the less I care.

Miscarriage(s):  Your journeys shape you into who you are, and better prepare you for the ones to come.

Health Issues:  I can overcome anything life throws at me, as long as I have the right attitude.  

but...

Losing Preston: Why didn't God listen to my prayers? What did I do to deserve this? Can I really overcome anything, or am I just going through the motions?

Stay tuned for session 4.  

Preston's Molly Bear

I first read about Molly Bears sometime last year.  Molly Bears is a non-profit organization founded by a bereaved mom, Bridget Crews.  Bridget lost her daughter Molly Christine at 34 weeks of gestation.  Following her loss, a friend gave her a weighted, 3 lbs, teddy bear.  Bridget felt like she needed a bear that weighed the exact same as her daughter, and so she bought a shell and rice, and created the first ever Molly Bear.  It gave her something to fill her arms with and brought her much needed comfort.  Fast forward almost 5 years, over 5.5k bears have been created and donated to families, just like hers.  Just like mine.

I'd seen a couple ladies talk about how their baby's Molly Bear brought them comfort and it pushed me to order one.  You can order once a month around the 30th until the max number of orders have been filled.  I missed my shot several months in a row and almost did again, until I saw one of my angel mama friends, Dawna, say she'd just ordered hers.  I jumped on their webpage and did the same.

This morning, I opened the door to leave a little earlier than usual.  It had snowed, and I needed to brush snow off my car, and wanted a little extra time for my commute since it had been so slick the night before.  There was a huge box at the door.  Not knowing what it was, I lifted it just to bring it inside the house, and noticed the label - Molly Bears.  I didn't have time to open the box and had to just leave it there for later.

Preston's Molly Bear was on my mind all day.  How would I feel when I lifted the 11lbs 3oz bear for the first time?  For certain, I thought, I will break down.  With how unstable my emotions have been lately, I just knew it was going to be difficult, which hadn't even crossed my mind when I ordered it months ago.  Well I opened it about 30 minutes ago.  My initial thought was, it is heavy.  Was Preston this heavy?  I carried it around for a while, and sadly, I could not make a parallel between the bear's weight and Preston's weight.  Most likely it is because it's been almost a year since I last held Preston, and the bear is actually bigger than Preston was.  Disproportionate weight shift.

Nonetheless, I hugged it for several minutes and walked around the kitchen.  It didn't feel heavy anymore.  It felt right, even if it isn't Preston.  The card mentions "an angel baby's cuddle sent to a family in need".  It really did feel like the cuddle of an angel.  From my angel.  For it to arrive now... a weekish's time before Preston's angelversary?  For it to arrive the day after 3 emotional days?  A couple people said, "the timing is perfect" and "it's a clear sign from Preston".  And they are right.  It is perfect timing, and it is a sign from Preston.

It's easy to be skeptical about signs.  It's blind faith and a lot struggle with that notion.  I myself have days where I am skeptical about signs.  But I saw bunnies hopping around the neighbor's yard all weekend.  Ok, not all weekend, just a couple times, but still.  There have been hardly any bunnies all winter, and it hasn't been a really cold winter, or a snowy one.  Except for February and March, so far.  I'll take it though. Thank you for sending the bunnies, and for making Preston Bear arrive when he did.


I want to take the time to thank the Molly Bear organization.  Thank you so much.  Even if I had mixed emotions today, I'm so happy to have Preston Bear.  I'm so thankful that he will be here when I need a special hug.  Thank you to, Bridget for creating something so positive to help out so many bereaved families, many of which don't have all the memories I do.  Many of which never held their babies.  I will forever keep Molly Christine in my heart.  I want to also thank Elizabeth for creating Preston's bear for me.  This bear with a blue teddy bear on his belly, a pretty blue ribbon and a rainbow ribbon.  It's perfectly, and simply Preston.  Like Molly, your little Sweet Caroline holds a special place in my heart.

To the entire Molly Bear team, thank you so much for what you do.  I know many of you are bereaved parents yourselves, or siblings or close to others who have loved and lost.  I'm so terribly sorry for your loss.  I commend you for being part of such a positive organization that touch so many families in a way that no one really can.  Bravo to you.  Thank you, from the bottom of my less broken heart.

A peek into the ebbs and flows of child loss

Monday - March 2, 2015: 5:30pm

I think it's going to be a tough month.  I'm feeling tired, though I blame Remicade.  It seems this time, the fatigue didn't hit me until Sunday as opposed to the night of my infusion which was Wednesday.  I'm feeling emotional.  I've shed some tears already this month.  What triggered it? Simple memories.  Reminders of what should be and what isn't.

I've been warned that for some, the second year is tougher. I am less than two weeks away from that horrible day which took my son away.  My emotions feel volatile.  I feel awfully vulnerable.  Right now, I want to crawl under a rock and just stay there for a month.

Fortunately for my conscience and for my heart, I have a support group meeting tonight.  I hope that the experience, wisdom and understanding of others who have lived through this milestone will guide me through it.  A milestone I never asked for, and never wanted.

I feel like I've been on a constant healing wave for months now.  The holidays were hard, but they were overall better than I expected.  Preston's birthday... while gut-wretchedly bittersweet, was really a wonderful day.  I saw the outpouring of love and happiness his life created for others.  I was so happy in my own sadness that day.  I was so proud of my son.  I'm proud of him every day really, but it's so hard to quantify because I can't compare it with the normal achievements a little boy should be accomplishing.

Today, it feels like I just got hit by a tidal wave, and it shoved me onto the shore of a deserted isle.  Do I feel alone? No.  I see so many others who are part of the community no one ever wants to be a part of - the community of bereaved parents.  The sea of anniversaries, be it that of a birthday, a due date or an angelversary, is taking me over the edge.  So many others like me, out there, suffering.  Suffering through the unimaginable.  Agonizing over the why. Oh the why... I could write for days about "why".


Monday - March 2, 10:00pm

Interestingly enough the "subject" of our meeting tonight was about grief and the acceptance of grief.  Intellectual acceptance versus emotional acceptance.  The journey of a bereaved parent is filled with power struggles.  The most predominant one, at least for me, the mind versus the heart.

My mind knows what the heart won't accept.  My heart feels what my mind doesn't understand.  It's enough to drive a person crazy.  Acceptance can have several connotations.  To some it can mean moving forward, while to others it means forgetting.  Acceptance can mean peace.

Tonight I talked about how I struggle with "acceptance".  After my miscarriage and learning how sick I was in 2012, I made peace with losing my baby.  With Preston, I can't see myself ever being there.  I'm not delusional.  I know my son is no longer on Earth.  My mind understands.  It doesn't mean my mind accepts it.  Perhaps it's the only place where my mind and my heart aren't struggling over who's "right".

These past couple days have shown me that the ebbs and flows of grief are still ever so present.  Even though my mind tells me that I've been through tough days before, you'll get through tough days again, my heart tells me that it doesn't want to right now.

As I was driving home tonight, lyrics from different songs stuck with me.

"I don't wanna waste another day, keeping it inside, it's killing me.  Cause all I ever wanted comes right down to you.  I wish that I could find the words to say (...)  I'm inconsolable."

"I don't wanna wait another minute to hear something that I already know."

"The pain is all I want to feel."

I'm not trying to say that I often keep my feelings inside.  I truly don't.  I mean, I write about the way I feel almost daily.  But these lyrics speak the truth to me.  Everything I ever wanted, always comes right back to Preston.  I think about him every day and my heart has a hole in it.  That hole, with time, will slowly fill up, but it will never be whole again.

Waking up every day, my mind knows that my little boy is no longer here.  Yet, every day, I wake up and feel like I'm learning it all over again.  It's a constant smack in the face.  I know... but because my heart aches for my son, it's something I continually have to be "told".  There are days, where I just wish I didn't know... or wish I already knew, even though I already know.  Sounds like a line out of friends: "They don't know that we know that they know".  My brain is like Monica and Chandler, while my heart is like Rachel and Phoebe.. or vice-versa.

What I felt more intensely though was "the pain is all I want to feel".  During the month of February, I read a countless number of quotes.  I want to say I remember reading something along these lines: "Grief is the price we pay for love".  The pain I feel in my heart, is a testament of my love for Preston.  And sometimes, I need to feel that painful agony that is deep rooted grief.  Much like sometimes, I need to feel true happiness when remembering special moments we had.

What will the next days bring? I do not know that answer.  Deep grief? Comfort?  Smiles?  Tears?  More than likely, it will be a combination of it all, much like today was.  And there you have it, a sneak peek into my mind... from tragically upset to peaceful understanding in the span of hours.

Buddy

In the event you are unfamiliar with him, let me re-introduce you to one of my fur-balls, Acro.  He is usually less independent than his sister.  He loves belly rubs and chasing hair ties.. actually he enjoys playing fetch with hair ties.  He is 4 years old, and a total house cat.  Living in Colorado, the though of having outdoor cats frightened me as you never really never know what wildlife might be out there - bears, coyotes, mountain lions.  He is a very loving cat, but also a very scared-y cat.  He can run from his own shadow.

Perhaps his ears were ringing... he just pranced into the kitchen as I type about him.  Acro, is my buddy.  At least, it's an affectionate name I have given him.  He will sit in my lap for non-stop pets.  His purr is soft and subtle.  His love bites are charming.  His meow can be one of the most entertaining things to listen to.  From his non-stop meow-meow-meow "I'm hungry", to his "I'm playing" purr-durr, to his low growl "I got the (fake) mouse.  It's mine!".  He will "love" on everything that is around when he wants attention, by stroking his head against it.  The table legs.  The fridge.  The wall.  And yes of course, our legs.

Sometime in 2013, probably in December, I was taking care of Preston and I called him buddy.  As soon as the words came out of my mouth, it felt weird.  I thought of taking it back, but soon enough, I was saying it all the time and it became one of my nicknames for Preston.  Without meaning to, while Preston was around, my cats got neglected.  Less pets.  Less cuddling by the fire.  Less belly rubs.  They would however often come hang out with Preston and I when I would rock him in his nursery.  They never tried to jump in his crib which I must be honest, is something I feared all the time.

After Preston passed, there came a day where I was in a better place and uttered "hi buddy" to Acro.  I cried.  And cried.  And cried some more.  The guilt of sharing the "buddy" name got to me so intensely.  I'd felt it the first several times I used it with Preston in place of Acro.  But this guilt... it was intolerable.  It drove me nuts for quite a while.  And then it got better.  Every time I now call Acro "buddy" it makes me smile and reminds me of when I would call Preston the same.

In similar fashion, I've felt guilt in relation to Acro and Preston.  Since bringing Preston's ashes home, I've kept two of his blankets and a onesie by his urn on our dresser.  The first time I saw that Acro had slept on his blankets and onesie, I flipped out.  It would take away the scent of Preston that still permeated the items.  Acro's hair would "soil" these keepsakes.  I started leaving something on his things so that Acro couldn't just sleep there.  Things like sunglasses.  He eventually found his way back to those blankets.  His persistence eventually turned my grief into a mysterious feeling.  What if he just wanted to be close to Preston?  Or what if it was Preston's way of saying, "Mama, I'm still nearby"?  Or what if it's just a cat wanting a comfy spot? Right, I know.  Logically, I know that it's probably the latter.  However, my mind sometimes needs to believe the other possibilities.  It needs to consider that it could be Preston or God sending me a sign.

I no longer feel anger toward my cat for leaving hair on Preston's things, even though I'm a little bit sad every time I see the black cat hairs clinged to his onesie.  I no longer feel guilt for allowing our cat to rest by Preston.  I no longer feel guilt when I call my cat "buddy", a nickname that I gave him in the first place.

Guilt can come from unusual places.  As hard as it is to believe, this type of guilt will go away.  Don't let it keep you down.  Breakaway from the guilt and be free.


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