Capture Your Grief 2015 - Music

As October wraps up, I've decided to post about the topics listed in this year's "Capture Your Grief" project that speak the most to me.  Music was the topic for day 19.  I thought, how perfect.  Music was really special to me an Preston.

I've always been drawn to lyrics.  The music that accompanies them makes it just that much more fun.  Preston and I would listen to music via the Music Choice channels provided by our Comcast service.  We'd listen to music for babies, but also hits from the '90s and 2000s, because, well I like that music.  We'd dance and sing and it always seemed to soothe him.

His favorite was probably the music from his swing though.  Whenever I needed him to sleep, I could just turn on the lullabies that his swing played.  When he was younger, I'd have to play "Lullaby" via YouTube.  It was one of the only things that would put him to sleep.  I wonder if I'll ever have the heart to play it for Samantha... It's really emotional for me to listen to it as I type.  I guess, time will tell.  Perhaps somethings will just have to be for Preston and I... much like I'm sure, somethings will be just for Sami and I.

After losing Preston, I couldn't listen to music.  I wouldn't listen to it in the house, and every time I tried to in the car, it was a song that reminded me of my loss.  Everything was "baby" this, and "baby" that.  Or it was about break-ups which if you listen closely enough, the lyrics can easily apply to loss.  It was In the Arms of an Angel and Tears in Heaven.  While I wanted to be able to sing a song while driving to make me stop thinking about my loss, the reminders were just constant and too painful.

It took a lot of attempts, but I finally was able to listen to music again, as I rode the train into work.  I didn't have to concentrate on the road.  I was already thinking about Preston and many songs helped me put my feelings into words.  Sometimes the songs made me smile.  Sometimes they made me cry.  Those things still happen on a weekly basis.  If you enjoy music and lyrics, and you have been through a loss, try to listen to music.  It won't be easy, I know.  But I think it will be good for you.  Hopefully, it will even be healing.

I thought I'd share a song that became really special to me and Preston.  I think I've mentioned it in the past, but I don't recall how much detail I went into.  I discovered the song one night when Preston was up late and I was surfing the On-Demand music related videos on our TV.  Ironically, while looking for a few details on the song, I just realized that the video was released the day Preston was born. How crazy is that?

It was a new song by the Backstreet Boys that I'd never heard of, so I was curious and clicked on the video.  I loved the song immediately and ended up downloading it on my iPod.  Whenever Preston would get sleepy, I'd play it, sing along and he'd fall asleep after one or two renditions.  If you want to listen to the song and see the video, click here.  Oh and don't mind the shirtless guys (or hey, enjoy the shirtless guys!)

The lyrics spoke to me, and they continue to.

Show 'em (What You're Made Of)

I've seen it all a thousand times

Falling down I'm still alive. Am I? Am I?

So hard to breathe when the water's high

No need to swim, I'll learn to fly. So high. So high.

You find the truth in a child's eyes

When the only limit is the sky

Living proof, I see myself in you

When walls start to close in

Your heart is frozen over

Just show 'em what you're made of

When sunlight is fading

The world will be waiting for you

Just show 'em what you're made of

Gloves are off, ready to fight

Like a lion I will survive. Will I? Will I?

You gotta stand for something

Even if you stand alone, don't be afraid

It's gonna be alright

You find the truth in a child's eyes

When the only limit is the sky

Living proof, I see myself in you

When walls start to close in

Your heart is frozen over

Just show 'em what you're made of

When sunlight is fading

The world will be waiting for you

Just show 'em what you're made of

You find the truth in a child's eyes

When the only limit is the sky

Living proof, I see myself in you

When walls start to close in

Your heart is frozen over

Just show 'em what you're made of

When sunlight is fading

The world will be waiting for you

Just show 'em what you're made of

Really when I look back on my life, I've fallen down a thousand times.  At least.  Well maybe sometimes I've been shoved down when I least wanted to be.  Losing Preston, was the steepest fall, and it really left me feeling numb.  Wondering if it was true.  If I was still alive.  It scarred me for life.  But I had to learn to navigate this new life without Preston.  Preston taught me that when it comes to certain things, there's no right or wrong way.  There's just your way.  And, truthfully, I saw myself in him.  The little fighter that could.

I'll keep on surviving, even when every instinct in my body wants to give up because it's just too hard.  I've survived the worse possible thing that can happen to a person, so really, what could be harder? Right?  

I hope that Preston can continue reaching people around the world.  I hope that he continues to make a difference.  And maybe in the end, 10 years from now, I'll be the only one fighting this fight - Spreading Happiness for Preston.  And if that's the case, so be it.  I'll keep spreading all the smiles that he gave me.  All the happiness he shared with me.  All the goodness he taught me.

Don't give up on your fight, whatever it is.  With hard work and dedication, you can make it what you want it to be.  What you need it to be.  Show 'em what you're made of.

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Express Your Heart

Neglected.  That's how I feel I've treated my blog lately.  I've wanted to write, but I've let so many things get in the way.  Time.  Fatigue.  Emotions.  Not being able to find the words.

Yet, almost every time I start writing, things just seem to flow.  I thought of skipping this subject (day 14) but it felt like the perfect opportunity to bring up a subject that's been heavy on my heart for months.  And it is even more so now.

When I learned that I was pregnant again, there were so many emotions.  Fear.  Gratitude.  Happiness.  Blessed.  Sadness.  From day to day, I've felt confused about how I should feel.  I should be so grateful.  Yet, Preston should be sharing in this moment.  I should be happy, yet I feel terrified of losing another child.  It's been a constant tug of war in my heart.

Don't get me wrong, I am thrilled that we are going to be welcoming our little girl in a couple months.  And I have a lot of good days where I'm excited.  But there are moments that are so difficult.  Reaching certain milestones.  Realizing that Samantha moves so much more than Preston, which maybe should have been a hint that things weren't going as great as I thought with my pregnancy with Preston.

For months, I knew we'd have to make a decision about Preston's nursery.  Does it become Samantha's, or do we transform it into a guest room and make the guest room into Samantha's room?  We opted to turn Preston's room into Samantha's.  We decided it was a place he was always happy and comfortable.  We made the decision to keep certain parts of the nursery intact - including the wall pictured above.  If I can have it my way, this wall will remain baby blue with the red, white and blue stripes for the Cubs (and Canadiens) for the rest of time.  Hopefully Samantha doesn't have a problem with it as she grows older.

And so, last weekend, hubby and I entered the nursery together for the first time since March 2013.  We moved a lot of things over to the guest room so that we could put away some of Preston's things, so that we could possibly move the furniture in a different pattern and so that I could make a mental inventory of what we might need.

I'd been in this room a handful of times.  Sometimes, I would manage to stay for only a few seconds, while others, I was able to spend a good half hour reading a book to Preston, as I rocked back and forth in the rocking chair, as we used to so often.  I knew cleaning out the nursery was going to be difficult.  I didn't expect it would hit me like a ton of bricks.

So many things were hidden away in drawers, or underneath other items.  Some of which I hadn't looked at in over a year and a half.  Just the fact that we were changing things up, and putting away some things for good.  It brought back that sharp initial pain that existed when I learned my baby boy was gone.  It brought back all those agonizing memories I wish I could call a nightmare.  Except this time, there was no fogginess to protect me.  There was no numbness.  No feelings of disbelief.  How could there be, having lived with this for 19 months?

Needless to say, we were only able to work in there for an hour or so.  We threw away a few things, we made the decision to wash some of his clothes, sheets and blankets.  We moved the crib from one side of the room to the other.  And since that evening, the door to the nursery has been opened.

This afternoon, I went in and folded all the clothes that hubby washed.  I put away all the 3 month old clothes, and placed a bunch of Preston's things into the chest that's at the foot of our bed.  Things I don't want his sister to share.  His lamp.  The sheet and blanket that were part of his bedroom set.  His "my first Christmas" onesie, along with some of my favorite clothes of his - including his preemie "pinch me I'm cute" one (and his 3 month old version of it).  It's the one he came home from the hospital in and the only one we didn't donate to the hospital once he didn't fit into the preemie stuff anymore.    His Brandon Marshall Chicago Bears jersey to match his dad's.  Some binkies and other memorabilia.

While his things will be tucked away out of sight, they will be close by if we ever want to see them.  And there are things of Preston's that Samantha will share for sure.  She inherits all his stuffed animals and toys.  She'll share his favorite swing and bouncer.  His bear bathrobe.  Some of the decorations in the nursery.  Some clothes even.  Though, I suppose, it's possible that if it's too hard to see her in them, it won't be for very long.

I went on a shopping spree yesterday and bought her a bunch of things.  A new lamp for the nursery.  A mobile with a moon and stars.  A ton of clothes.  She's going to be a little fashionista, let me tell you.  Her wardrobe is more expensive than mine and it's just newborn sized.  I think someone's going to be a spoiled little girl!  Well, let her be.  I'll just have to make sure she doesn't become a spoiled brat. ;)

When one door closes, another opens.

I will never, ever forget my son.  I will continue to think about him every day, even when he becomes a big brother.  Samantha will not replace Preston in any way, shape or form.  She has a special place in my heart, in my life, just like Preston does.  I can only hope, that Preston knows.

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Regrets + Triggers

I've been struggling lately to stay on top of this project.  I'm tired, but it's also a little mentally draining, as I'm thinking about certain things I haven't thought of in a while.  I'm re-living other things.  And well, the pregnancy hormones don't help! ;)

So I'm going to slowly play catch-up.  I might end up skipping some subjects all together or I may just finish this project in November, we'll see.  One day at a time.

I don't think I have any regrets in regards to how I've grieved so far.  If anything, I'm proud of myself for having been able to keep a positive attitude, most of the time, throughout this tragedy.  This isn't to say I have no regrets when it comes to Preston.  With all my heart, I wish I'd taken the day off, the day he passed away.  Maybe he'd still be with us.  I wish I'd at least considered a community daycare instead of being stuck on wanting an in-home daycare.  I wish I'd found a way to spend even more time with him.  I wish I had a better memory.

Is there a way to heal these regrets?  I try to keep in mind that there's only so much I can control.  Even if I'd done all those things, he might still have passed away.  I don't know how the universe works.  So, I remind myself, control what you can.  Keeping that in mind, I'm able to not feel so much guilt in regards to these regrets.  They probably will never go away, but I won't let myself feel the sting on a daily basis.

Triggers?  What are triggers exactly?  It can be anything that "triggers" your memory, making it flash back to the original trauma or feelings relating to the trauma.  I have several.  They may not be as difficult to deal with as they used to be, but depending on the day, they can be just as bad as they were a year ago.  Grief has no timeline.

• Fire trucks, ambulances and sirens.  I wasn't there, but I know that Preston was taken to the hospital by paramedics in an ambulance.  Sirens tend to send me for a loop.
• Driving by the hospital that's next to my house.  I do it every day, and it sucks.  That's where I found out I had a miscarriage in 2012, and that's where my son was pronounced.  I've gotten pretty good at ignoring it, but just thinking about it now, is making me really emotional. I don't throw a lot of hate out there... but I hate that place.  One more year until that new highway exit so that I can not drive by it every day....
• My cell phone ringing at work.  It still haunts me: "Preston's not breathing".  I guess there's a reason my cell phone is always on vibrate instead of on a ringer.
• Excessive complaining regarding kids.  It just makes me sad, because I'd give anything to have my son back, even if it meant a thousand sleepless nights and tantrums.  I understand everyone needs to vent, but it's still something I struggle with.
• Any news item regarding kids being mistreated.  The younger they are, the worse it is.  I'm sure these stories are hard for anyone.  They're difficult for me because, why does someone who mistreats children have children, when I did everything right and lost mine? For no reason!

In the shadows, the light exists.  Remember that.  While this post itself has been sending me into a tailspin, I just received the sweetest message from my cousin:

Preston came for a beautiful visit with me today. He appeared to me in the most radiant rainbow I have ever seen. It had the most vibrant colors I have ever seen set against a dark grey sky.

Thank you for sharing Natalie.   I appreciate you, and bless my son for sending you that rainbow when he did. <3


While this is the subject for day 13, today is October 15th.  It is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.  At 7pm, around the world, candles are being lit in remembrance of babies who have passed. #Wave of Light

My candle has been lit for the past hour.  For Preston, and for all the friends he's made along the way.  All the babies, who look down from Heaven at us tonight.  Missing you every day baby boy. Mama loves you <3

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Normalizing Grief

After a loss as tremendous as losing a baby, normal is a word that goes out the window.  You are no longer normal.  Your reality is turned upside down.  You feel sequestered as you try to navigate the map that is grief.  Twists and turns when you least expect it.  Detours at every corner.

When we feel a certain way, we believe that it isn't normal.  For me, my first fears of not reacting normal were when I was still in shock and I couldn't cry.  My brain was telling me I should be a ball on the floor, unable to function, crying uncontrollably.  Except I was numb.  My body was protecting my heart.  I soon learned from reading about other experiences and talking to other bereaved parents that there was no right or wrong way to grieve.  Part of me wanted to feel what I would have considered normal (the ball on the floor) but grief had another path for me.

And while normal as we knew it might be completely out the window, with time, we learn to create a new normal.  Mine includes this blog and memorializing Preston.  Mine includes a lot more positivity than what existed before losing Preston.  Mine includes a whole new outlook on life, where the small things are appreciated to a new degree.

With today's subject, CarlyMarie requests that we share an experience that might make someone else say "Hey, I feel that way too!" (quote from CarlyMarie's page), therefore normalizing grief.  Our experiences are all different.  Our journeys all differ.  Our emotions diverse.  But at some point, hopefully we cross the path that someone else has traveled.  I will try to do that by sharing something new.

When my fears of miscarriage dissipated with my current pregnancy, some fears instilled themselves in me.  Fears that Preston would be forgotten.  Fears that others would think that now that I have another baby, I can "move on", whatever that means.  Fears that people might think that with Samantha's arrival, I won't have any more sad moments.  Fears that society expects me to finally stop grieving.  It's part of the reasons I kept this pregnancy under wraps for so long.

And I know better.  Preston will never be forgotten.  Not by me.  Not by his father.  Not by his family.  Not by his friends, our friends.  Not by those who have truly been touched by his smile, his story, his being.  #SpreadHappinessForPreston is here to stay. Every year.

Moving on is an interesting concept.  If I can be brutally honest, losing a baby is not something you "get over".  It's not something you get past.  It stays with you.  Every day.  Another human being will not change that, no matter how loved.  We aren't talking about buying a new laptop because you broke your previous one.  We're talking flesh and blood.  We're talking a little life that you helped create.  I won't move on, and honestly, I don't want to.

I've had many reasons to be happy this year.  And last year.  I have a lot to be grateful for.  I know it, because I made myself take a 30 day challenge (the first post of this series can be found here).  That doesn't mean that I don't miss my son.  That doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt.  My heart continues to bleed every day.  And while Samantha will help cauterize the scar Preston left on my heart, it will continue to bleed.  I will continue to miss him.  I will continue to fear losing her, the same way I lost him.  Innocence - gone forever.  Sadness will follow me like a shadow.  And I know that it's okay.  I know that I can and should let it in, when it needs to.

I will never stop grieving.  That's all there is to it.

Yet, all that being said... those fears I mentioned before, they are still there.  And I know some people will have those expectations of me.  Of my husband.  People will always judge.  Let them.

Rise above, and know that you are not alone.  Grief has no timeline.  Certain events or moments, don't make it go away.  Your grief, can be what you want it to be, what you need it to be. Don't let others dictate it, or how they think it should be.

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Glow in the Woods

When I first started along this journey of grief, I had many glows in the woods.  Our family and friends lifted us up during the hardest times.  They held our hand when we needed it, they hugged us, they let us cry, they listened if we needed to talk.  They helped us plan one of the hardest days of our lives, Preston's memorial.

As I tried to grasp this new reality, the MSIL community boards on BabyCenter was a great resource.  There was always someone up, whatever time of day, to talk to.  I made some lasting friendships here.  This is where I found the blogs that helped me along the way.  For links to some of the blogs that have helped, please visit this past post:  Capture Your Grief 2015 - Books.  I've also recently found The Journey to Life, Jane's blog about the loss of her son who was stillborn.

From the get-go, there's also been the Angel Eyes Organization in Denver, more specifically, their support group and the other parents who I've been able to connect with on a personal level.  Reading blogs has been wonderful for me, and I've taken away from each and everyone of them that I've read.  However, I've taken even more away from the in-person discussions I've had with parents who lost an infant.  I've formed bonds with these families and I know that if I ever need to talk to someone, they will be there, and they'll probably have had similar thoughts, or the same thoughts.  I've learned so much.  And while our grief journeys are oh -so different, we can easily relate to each other.  At least at some point in time.

Finally, my sweet little Preston has been a glow in the woods for me.  Thinking of his smiles.  Looking at his pictures.  Remembering some of the time we spent together.  Knowing what he'd want me to do with my grief, and how he'd want me to feel.  All this helped me immensely.  Without all the wisdom that he's brought me, I'd be nowhere close to where I am today.  I'm better for having known him.  And I will cherish that thought every single day of my life.

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Family

What does my family look like today?  Quite honestly, I feel like who my family is hasn't changed in the way you would think.  Preston, while he is not here physically, is still a very big part of my family.  He's in my heart and on my mind every day.  He's shaped me into a better person and continues to do so on a daily basis.

I have feel so blessed because I have so many families.  I have my own little family - me, hubby, Preston and soon to be Samantha.  I have my immediate family and my in-laws.  I have my extended family.  I have my loss family.

All of these families are special in their own unique way, and they all mean the world to me.  Sometimes, I need one more than the other, but the great thing for me is, I'm never left to feel alone.

Thank you to everyone who allows Preston into their hearts and into their lives.  It continually feels like my family is growing.

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Wish List

What are your wishes for this grief journey?  What do you need from others?  It might be that you want your child to always be remembered.  You may wish to educate others on grief and healing.  Maybe your wish is to turn this tragedy into something beautiful.  Spend some time thinking about what it is that you hope to be able to do, learn or gain from this experience.

If you had asked me this question a year and a half ago, my head would have been spinning.  I wouldn't have had any wishes for this grief journey.  I didn't want to be on this journey, and I wish I didn't have to be.  Unfortunately, that's not a choice I have now, or had then.

I found CarlyMarie's instructions for today's subject, Wish List, interesting because I think she hit on everything I can think of.

I want Preston to be remembered, always.  Forever.  Not just by me, but by as many people as possible.  I want him to make an impact.  If I could share him with every single person in the world, I would.  He's taught me so much about love and life.  About grief and perseverance.  About gaining perspective and positivity.  I can't even name everything he's taught me because there's just so much!  I want to share him with the world so that anyone whose willing to let him in, can hopefully learn from him too.

And if all else fails, maybe he can at least make them smile.  He's very skilled at that.

I do want to educate others.  On grief, on healing, on SIDS prevention.  I think that's been one of the goals I set for this blog.  Everyone's journey is going to be different through grief, but I've learned that I often take away something from someone else that's grieving.  Early on, someone had told me that they'd heard a story once, about letting go of just one thing relating to the loss of their child.  When they were able to do that, it helped tremendously.  I didn't think much of it at the time. A few months later, someone I knew told me that she had found out exactly what happened to her baby, yet she still felt like I did.  Without resolve.  Knowing didn't change the fact that her son was gone.  I remembered the story about letting go, and I was able to "let go" of the fact that I might never know why Preston had to be one of the unlucky ones.  While it still occasionally haunts me, bothers me and scares me, for the most part, it doesn't consume me like it did a year and a half ago.  Is there anything in relation to your grief journey you could see yourself letting go of?

Now I don't know that I'd go as far to say that my grief journey is beautiful.  Perhaps there have been some beautiful moments, but I have trouble describing the whole journey as such.  It's a roller coaster.  The dips and spins may be less intense for me now, but that may not always be the case.

Friends and family, near and far, as well as complete strangers have reached out, and continue to reach out.  I think that's made a world of difference.  I hope it continues, because it certainly makes an impact on my mental health. Thank you to all.

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Memory

I struggled all day to figure out which memory of Preston to share.  Thinking and remembering these memories is bittersweet.  They make me smile, but at the same time, it's painful that they are so few and far between. Or that I can't remember them with the amount of details that I wish I could.

Rather than share one specific memory, I am opting to share that I loved my evenings with Preston.  The evenings were ours.  After an early evening feeding, Preston would be up for a little while.  Wiggling and talking in his bouncer as I ate some dinner.  After that we'd do a variety of things.

Play this little piggy.

Sing songs or listen to music.

Read books.

Walk around the house and look at all the different things hanging on the wall.

He'd get tickled and would giggle.

He'd get big smiles and give them back.

After that, he'd take a short nap, giving me a chance to do the dishes and clean up the house a little.  Then it would be time for him to eat one more time before bedtime.  He'd be up for at least an hour after that but I'd mostly rock him, sing to him (poor little guy - I don't have the best voice for singing), and within half an hour, we'd go to his room, the nursery, and read a book.  Sometimes two, just because I didn't want to put him down just yet.  He'd usually be asleep before the end of them, but I always read them to the end.

I think that's probably what I miss most.  Our evenings.  Even when he wouldn't fall asleep until 11:00 or 11:30 meaning my night was much shorter.  The evenings were our special time.  It's when I got the most smiles and giggles.  It's when I really felt connected with him, and felt like he knew how much I loved him.  Maybe I can't remember the specifics of any one evening in particular, but I will cherish those moments forever.

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Books

Today's subject is books.  For me, not much has changed in the past year in the book front.  I can't say I've read any of the books relating to grief that were given to me.  Though I feel in a better place than I did last year, I just haven't been compelled to picking one of them up.  It's not that I don't think they will help.  Maybe it's because holding a book is so involved, and requires concentrating on grief related topics for an extended period of time?

Whatever the reason may be, I do have books about grieving, but I don't have any that I can recommend since I haven't read any.

That does not mean that I don't have any recommended reading.  I certainly do.  Reading quotes and stories relating to grief and to losing a baby really brought me a lot of comfort.  These words made me feel less alone.  Some made me cry because they put into words what I couldn't express coherently.  Some made me smile because it helped me gain perspective and I realized Preston was becoming my greatest educator.

Most of the quotes I found through Google or Yahoo, using search topics like "child loss", "losing a baby", "grief baby loss quotes" and then searching for images.  I found beautiful quotes and passages.  Some were so difficult to read, especially in those first weeks after losing Preston, but at the risk of repeating myself, they brought me so much comfort.  They gave my pain a voice.

As I continue through my journey of grief, I now search for quotes about happiness, motivation and positivity.  In February, I created an event called "Positively February" where each day I shared a quote that I had read and built a blog post explaining how it affected my life.  How the quote made me feel and how I could relate it to grief, losing Preston and finding a way to stay positive through this tremendous, un-measurable loss.  If interested, you can find the first post from February here if interested.  By the way, I plan to bring back this event next year. :)

And then there are blogs.  While none of the journeys I've followed are exactly like mine, they helped me along the way, and continue to.  Sometimes, these women see things differently than I do, while other times, they are able to put into words what I haven't been able to.  I relate to these stories and they help me feel not so alone.

There's Fish Bite Moonbeams, Krystal's blog dedicated to her sons Conner and Benjamin.  What a great resource this has been.  The loss of her sons, and how she was able to integrate them into her life helped me find ways to keep Preston close to my heart, and aided me in finding ways to integrate him into my every day life.  Without Krystal, I wouldn't be eating pizza every 19th of the month.  The other great thing is that, Krystal now has a baby girl.  She's almost 8 months old.  It's been nice to read about Krystal's fears through pregnancy after loss, and also to see how things are now.  It brings me much needed comfort.

There's HereComesTheSun.  Nora's blog in the form of letters to her daughter Josie.  This blog is always so beautiful and eloquent.  Topics that I wouldn't necessarily think of writing about.  It's unique and personal format motivate me every time I read passages.

There's The Lewis Note.  Rachel's blog (now on a new website).  Rachel has been through it all.  Has had a handful of losses, including a very recent one.  So sorry to hear Rachel. :(  She's a foster parent.  She's adopted a daughter.  She's dealt with infertility.  I call all parents who have lost a child survivors.  If that's the case, Rachel is a champion survivor.  She's extremely talented, well spoken and is able to include loss when speaking of trending topics on the web.  She too has been a great resource for me.

And there you have it.  Books may not have helped me, yet.  Reading is a whole other story.  Without it, it is doubtful that I would be where I am at today. Thank you to all who have made these quotes available on the web, and even more to those who are actually quoted  And thank you to those who write blogs and share their stories, and experiences, and inner most thoughts.  You help more than you know.

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Empathy

Empathy can be difficult to master.  I believe it's in our nature to want to fix the situation and make our friends and family feel better.  Unfortunately, everything doesn't have a quick fix, or even a solution.  There is not an answer to every circumstance.  SIDS is an example to that since we don't know what causes it, and while we can do a list of things to reduce the risks, there is no way to completely prevent it from happening.  Such a scary notion.

I've read several articles on what not to say to a bereaved parent, or "say this instead of that".  I've actually wanted to create such a post myself, but I just haven't had the right inspiration to make it unique.  I don't want to just repeat what's been said one hundred times over.  I want to make it attention grabbing, more relatable.

In the meantime though, in the spirit of CarlyMarie's #CaptureYourGrief project for today, I will share what I believe empathy should look like and how it has helped me.

I believe empathy comes in a lot of shapes.  One of the greatest ones is just a listening ear.  Even better? A great big hug followed with "how are you, really?" and being open to a conversation being filled with emotions.  Layers of it.  Some of the most comforting words I've heard were "I'm so sorry" followed by a meaningful long hug.

Empathy can also come in the shape of sharing the memory of the person that was lost, or asking to hear about him or her.  Again, none of these conversations are easy.  And they might end up being difficult to listen to.  If you are up for it though, it's something that can be so meaningful.  Many people are afraid to mention the loss in fears of "opening up old wounds".  These wounds never heal, and trust me when I say that our children are on the forefront of our minds every day.  Whether they are with us or not.  Mentioning their name, will never make us more sad.  If anything, it makes us happy and proud that they were remembered.

I think a helping hand is also a form of empathy.  It's instinctual to want to do something.  Ironically, I, myself, found it difficult to comfort others at Preston's memorial, or whenever someone would mention how sorry they were for me.  I needed to comfort them, even though, I was needing it more than them.  I wanted to do "something", yet felt powerless.  I imagine that's how most people felt toward me.

"I wish I could do something."

People offered to make meals for us.  Others gave us gift cards for groceries, and dining out.  It was so incredibly sweet, and thoughtful though unnecessary.  To give people an outlet, we asked that, in lieu of flowers, they make donations to the Children's Hospital Colorado.  At the time, we didn't know that SIDS was the reason our baby had passed away.  We knew a little boy who'd been helped by the Children's Hospital, and it felt like the right thing to do.  I think that helped a lot of people, and it did bring us a level of comfort too.  Knowing that this money would be used to help children in need of medical assistance.

That being said, showing the right amount of empathy, and the right kind of empathy is difficult.  We all want to help and say the right thing, but in the moment, we often don't realize what might be the appropriate words or actions.  My only suggestion can be this.  Don't rush it, and risk saying something that would be construed as insensitive like "he/she's in a better place", "at least you have other kids", "at least you didn't have time to get attached".  Take your time, and if nothing seems right, then just go with a strong hug and "I'm so sorry".  And when the time feels right, and you think you can listen, ask about how your friend is doing.  Or ask for them to tell you about who they lost.  Or just hold them if they need to cry. Cry with them even.  Who knows, the empathy you feel might just be something you need too.

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Dark + Light

As you can imagine, losing a child comes with a lot of darkness.  Interminable sadness.  Heavy constant guilt.  Persistent denial.  Relentless anger.  It can make sinking into a deep depression extremely simple.

It's a dangerous path that I have not allowed myself to travel too deeply.  Surely I have had terrible days.  There are gaps of time which are forever gone from my memory.  The days and months following Preston's death.  In that time span, I have some very vivid, too vivid memories.  The rest though is blank.  How I coped?  How I felt?  Numb is perhaps the best way to explain it?

Still, I do know that I tried everything to not allow myself to get to a place that was too dark.  I made an effort to smile or laugh daily, because that is what Preston would want.  I've promised myself to allow myself to feel the darkness when it creeps in.  It sometimes feels good to be sad.  To cry.  To be angry.  I'd go as far as to say that it is necessary to let the dark in.

Much like with an eclipse, after the darkness, the light returns.  With every day that ends with the sun setting, each new day begins with the sun rising, even when we can't see it due to cloud cover.   "Never fear shadows.  They simply mean there's a light shining somewhere nearby".  I wrote a post based on this quote back in February.  It's linked in the event you are interested.

The point is, grief can also bring about light.  It is not easy to come by and requires willpower.  I've been able to embrace the light by trying my best to honor Preston's memory.  The memory of this happy little being.  My promise to him has been to try and smile every day.  If I can accomplish that, then I feel like I'm fulfilling my oath.  Some days the smiles are few.  And that's okay.

What's worked for me is to basically let the darkness in when it needs to, but to remember that the light is always around the corner.  You just basically have to be open to let it in.

Capture Your Grief 2015 - In Honour

Today's #CaptureYourGrief subject is meant to "shine a light" on our children.  To honor them in the best possible way and to share them with the world.

It's something I've done on several occasions.  I've written about who Preston was, what my dreams were for him, how he changed my life.  I stumbled on a few of my entries last night and I've honestly been avoiding writing this piece today.  Why?  Part of me feels like I'd be repeating myself.  Part of me feels like I wouldn't be able to live up to what I've already written.  Part of me felt sad, looking through pictures trying to find a good one I haven't yet shared.  These are getting harder and harder to find.

Nonetheless, as discussed yesterday, it is my intention to put a lot of effort into my blog and to share my son.  So I will give it my best shot.


Preston was born on November 19, 2013, about 5 weeks early.  He measured 19 inches, but weighed only 4 pounds and 5 ounces.  The placenta had stopped giving him nutrients, which preventing any "meat" from forming on his bones.  Poor little guy.  It's not something I want to get into today, but it's a big source of guilt for me.  I want to mention it though, in the event others out there feel this way, so that you know that you aren't alone.

He didn't spend his first day in the NICU, but was soon sent there because he struggled with feedings and holding his own heat.  It was a scary time, but we were told, it was the best reason for going to the NICU.  Aside from being early, there was nothing wrong with him medically.  It was a source of extreme relief.  His nurses were so attentive and we were able to feed and change him as much as we wanted.  He continued to struggle with feedings for a couple days, but one nurse assured us that he would soon get the hang of it and from then on, he would be okay.  Sure enough, he made strides every day.  Drinking more and more, needing the incubator less and less.  Finally, on Thanksgiving day, he was able to come home.

I was extremely nervous the first few days.  Preston made so many little noises, and I feared so much for something to happen.  Hopefully that's normal first time parent behavior.  Within a few days though, I got used to his sounds and we created a good routine.  Still though, I continued to have fears.  I prayed every night for God to watch over him while we couldn't, as we slept.  I thanked Him, before asking Him to watch over Preston.  I think with time, it helped me sleep a little more soundly.

Aside from the struggles we had with feeding him, Preston was a relatively easy baby.  He didn't cry often, unless he was wet.  Being wet, was the end of the world to Preston, no matter how wet he was.  The only fix was a new diaper.  Can I say, we went through a LOT of diapers?  That notion always makes me smile and even laugh out loud.

Speaking of smiles, he had the most contagious smile.  I would spend hours after work trying to make him smile.  With baby talk, smiles, and tickles on his belly.  He loved it.  Quite honestly, I loved it more than he did, but that's probably obvious.  We were a really happy bunch.

Even though he's no longer with us, I treasure the memories of him I have.  How he loved to wiggle his legs all_the_time.  How he loved to stare at the colorful painting above our couch during his feedings.  How enthralled he seemed watching Big Cat Diary with his dad after his first feeding of the day.  How for a time, This Little Piggy seemed like the greatest game in the world.  How he seemed to understand everything I told him about the world.

Those memories of such simple things have helped me gain appreciation for the little things in life.  His smile, and the happiness that radiated from him have helped me find a positive way to grieve.  I miss him terribly.  Every day.  I think of him constantly, and it isn't always easy.  Most times though, I manage to smile because I know that's what he would want me to do.  Preston would want me to continue smiling.  It's a thought that is hard to grasp, but I do it.  I do it as often as possible, in his honor.  And all I can hope, is that when you read about him, or about my journey, is that somewhere along the way, you smile too.  I know that it's not a fairy tale ending, and it never will be, but I've come to learn that his purpose was to spread happiness and I'm the lucky one who got to live it first hand.  The happiness that he created.  I hope I do him proud by sharing him with the world, and attempt to get others to smile too.

Watching Big Cat Diary

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Intention

Ah intention.  I have so many good intentions, but it's difficult to accomplish all of them.  Is that just me?

There is one area where I'm particularly proud of following through with my intentions.  That area is this blog.  I first started it because I wanted to find a way to honor my son, and share him with the world.

I wanted to be able to spread happiness around the world through my words, like Preston did for me throughout his short life.

I wanted to have a platform to promote #SpreadHappinessForPreston day - where the world pays it forward to make it a really happy day. A special day.  His birthday, November 19, year after year, even if he's not with us to celebrate it.

I wanted to share my experiences, and thoughts in hopes of touching someone, if only one person.  To help them with their grief.

I think it has turned into so much more.  It helped me verbalize all my thoughts, many of which haunted me and kept me up all night long.  It helped me forge friendships and deep bonds which I would have never made if not for my blog.  It made me realize that I could touch more than just a community of grieving parents - but also anyone dealing with the loss of a loved one, or even people who are going through hardships not necessarily related to grief.

And so, my blog is not only an outlet for me, but it's a resource that I hope is helpful to many others.  Having over 40,000 pageviews, I would really hope so anyway!!

So, I guess, my intention for October's Capture Your Grief project, is this:

• Make more of an effort with my blog, even after October comes to an end.
• Continue sharing my thoughts and experiences, even when they are painful to write or read.  Even if my opinions are unpopular or disapproved of.
• Continue sharing my story, Preston's story, his smiles and the lessons he's taught me in life and death.
• Continue promoting #SpreadHappinessForPreston in hopes of it one day, creating the happiest day in the world.
• Continue trying to appreciate all the small things in life.
• Find a way to continue to honor Preston, while not overwhelming my daughter to be with a sense of loss and/or fear.
• I hope to find new ways to help others with their healing journey.

All my good intentions are there, and I really do intend to follow through.

Capture Your Grief 2015 - Sunrise

A cool fall morning.  As it should be, given that summer has officially come to an end.  But all is not always as it should be.  Many parents can attest to that this month, as they continue to mourn the loss of their child throughout October - Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month.

CarlyMarie, a bereaved mother and founder of Project Heal, has brought back the October "Capture Your Grief" project for a 4th year.  I participated in this project last year and found it very healing.  If you wish to read (or re-read) by blogs from last year, you may click here.

Like last year, the subject for October 1st: Sunrise.

I ride the train most mornings to go to work.  This time of year, the actual sunrise occurs while I'm about halfway to work and it's quite difficult to capture a good picture since the sun rises on the other side of the highway, behind several buildings that obstruct the view.  I was able to take a couple of pictures this morning, but none really capture the sun breaking the horizon.

As I prayed for all the parents who'd lost a child, whether it be during pregnancy or afterwards, what struck me most was the color of the sky.  It was remarkably cloudy this morning which would have made a picture of the actual sunrise very difficult.  About 15 minutes before the actual sunrise, the clouds were blue and in between all the clouds, the sky was pink.  It was beautiful, and oh so appropriate given that the awareness ribbon for Pregnancy and Infant Loss is just that - pink and blue.

As the sun was rising, the clouds stayed blue and the sky that was pink, turned white.  I found this fascinating.  The sky is usually blue with clouds of white.  It was as if the sky was using the metaphor that losing a child is the opposite of what should be.  The sky was right.  Losing a child is not something that should be.  Our children should always outlive us.

Watching the sunrise was not something I practiced often before Preston passed away.  Even when it was right there for me to savor as my day began.  Sunrises now signify so much to me.

Quietness.

Tranquility.

Peace.

It is a rare morning that I don't watch the sky change colors before my eyes and don't think of Preston.  Those moments make me feel close to him, especially when the sky is turning all different shades of colors.  Preston was so fond of bright colors.

It's a healing experience to just sit and watch a sunrise.  Even if you don't see all of it.  I find that it allows my day to start with some sense of serenity.  While the stillness of the morning can be extremely challenging without Preston, the atmosphere of calmness brings me a lot of peace, and helps me move forward with each new day.

Do you watch the sunrise here and then? How does it make you feel?