2 years gone by

March 13th. The bane of my existence.  2 years ago, the absolute worst day of my life.  It replays in my mind over and over again.

2 years have come and gone since Preston passed away.  It's hard to believe.  It's been the longest 2 years without him.  How I wish he could be there to see his little sister grow.  I bet he would teach her so much.  I bet they would have so much fun together.  Instead, she is deprived of his sweet existence.

I wish I wrote on my blog more often.  Time has made it so I don't need to write as often.  The arrival of Samantha, has reduced the amount of time I have to write.  I think of my little man every single day.  I constantly talk to him, as Sami's guardian angel.  I miss him eternally.

I don't like to remember this day.  I have said it before, I wish I could erase it from the calendar.  But it is hard to forget such a day.  I don't wish to celebrate this day in any way, but I do like the thought of making it into a family day.  This year, that didn't really happen.

The day was difficult for sure.  As to not help things, for the first time, Sami is sick with a cold.  A stuffy nose and a little cough.  Given the date, I hardly slept last night wanting to make sure she was breathing ok.  On top of her having a cold, hubby and I also have it.  And I had some minor food poisoning last night.  Perfect storm right?

We spent as much time together today as possible, but it was interrupted by naps so that we can all heal from this cold.  And then chores that had to be done because tomorrow is Monday, and my first full week back to work.

The nice thing is, despite feeling ill, Sami still flashed her smile a ton today.  Which helped a ton to get through this day.

Every day without Preston remains, and will always remain difficult.  I can't fathom that 2 years have passed by, yet like I said earlier, it's also been a very long, dragged out two years.  I reckon that every year that passes will feel like that when it comes to my son.

Sweet P.  How I miss you.  How I wish things could be different.  I long to hold you and cuddle with you.  I pray that Heaven is a beautiful place, and that you are able to flash your smile for everyone.  I pray that you continue to live on in people's hearts.  People you've met, people who you've touched through this blog.  For sure, you live on in my heart.  Every single day. I love you. xxxx

This is the last picture I have of Preston.  Taken 3/10/2014

March Madness

No I'm not talking about basketball.

I've been totally dreading the month of March.  So many triggers.  So many changes.  So much to adapt to.

In 11 days, it will have been 2 years since we lost our son.  2 years... where does the time go?  I honestly can't believe that it has been that long.  And at the same time, it feels like AGES ago since I last saw Preston's sweet smile.  Since I last kissed his forehead and rocked him to sleep.  It's maddening really.

In a handful of days, Samantha starts daycare.  I'm not looking forward to it at all.  It's frightening because Preston was at daycare (mind you a different daycare) when he stopped breathing.  It's scary because I won't be there every minute to check on her.  It's so difficult because I don't know how she'll react, or handle it.  Her first day, is going to be a long day for me.  Her first month will be difficult.  The first year... I just don't feel ready... but life isn't about being ready is it?

I return to work in a week.  While my mind is ready for the stimulation, and the hectic every day work... my heart isn't.  Ahead of schedule, I am reminding myself that the days will fly by.  That I will be surrounded by people who support me and care about me.  I remind myself that I will have tons of pictures that I can hang up to make missing Sami a little less painful.

It is a lot to deal with.  I'm not ready... but ready or not... March is here.

One day at a time.

One step at a time.

One moment at a time.  Life is so precious.  Life is so fragile.  I've known that for a long time, and I'm reminded of it every day.  The first month back to work is probably going to be really difficult.  And all I can do, is take it slow.  Love every minute that I get with Sami.  And just try to remain calm in the meantime.

Preston, mama misses you daily.  I wish you were here...

To everyone out there, hug and kiss your loved ones.  Tell them you love them.  Life is precious... more than you know.

The forgotten pizza

February 19th.  Less than a month shy since 2 years will have passed since Preston left us for Heaven.  It happened.  I forgot.

I never thought that I could.  And I can make excuses.  It didn't register in my mind that today was the 19th.  I can't eat dairy so making pizza didn't come to mind.  I had chicken in the fridge that had to be cooked.

But still.  I feel low.  I feel horrendous.  I feel like a failure.  I feel sad.  I forgot.

It's not that I didn't think of Preston today.  I thought of him this morning when I placed my special necklace on his urn.  I thought of him as I was rocking Samantha in her nursery, formerly his nursery.  I thought of him because of certain items in the room.  I thought of him because of a song that played.  I thought of him later in the day as I saw tokens around the living room - a bunny, a special little P figurine.  I thought of him as I was going through pictures on my google account and there was a picture that I didn't take or save.  All it was, was the letter P.  Where it came from? No idea.

I started the chicken in the crock pot late in the afternoon.  After being home for a bit, my husband commented that it smelled delicious but that today was the 19th.  Where was the pizza?  Bless his heart, it's not his fault.  But I cried.  How could I forget?  I don't care that I have excuses.  No excuse is good enough to forget to celebrate my son.  We had pizza.  We took the cheese off my pieces.

I hope it never happens again.

Preston, Mama is sorry with all her heart.  I can only hope that you forgive me.  And I hold on to the fact that you did, because right after I realized what I'd done, my friend Meghann sent me a picture of a rainbow telling me she saw it and thought of me.  It had to be you. 

I love you my sweet boy.  I miss you with all my heart, and I wish you could be with me.  I wish you could see your beautiful little sister grow.  I wish you could experience her smile.  And of course, I know you see it all and experience it in your own way... but I wish it was different.

Missing you always.  I may have forgotten your pizza, but I think of you every day.  I promise.

Positively February 2016: Day 4

Being happy doesn't mean everything perfect.  It means you've decided to look beyond the imperfections. - Unknown

Happy had been a word I've struggled with since losing Preston.  For a long time I felt like I didn't have the right to be happy, or I shouldn't be happy.  I felt guilty when I had happy moments.

It still happens that I feel guilty for being happy.

The truth is though, I need to have happiness in my life in order to live, to survive.  And while I'll never be as happy as I could have been, I do get to be happy.

While I'll never be completely happy, I do have the right to be happy.  I lost a child, but it doesn't mean that my life should be eternal doom and gloom.  I continue to be sad every day that I don't get to have with Preston, but I also know that he wants me to be happy.  Especially now that his little sister is here.  She deserves to be happy.  She deserves to have happy parents.

And in no way, does being happy mean that I've forgotten my child.  I think this is a fear a lot of mourning parents have. If I smile, or am happy, others will judge me and think that I am over the loss.  They will think I don't care about my baby enough.

You don't get over the loss.  Ever.  And if anyone judges you and thinks that you don't love your child enough, you don't need them in your life.  Surround yourself with people who will support you, lift you up when you need it.  Sever ties with those that make you feel worse.  You have every right to happiness.  It won't be perfect happiness, but you can certainly have it again if you allow yourself to see past your loss.  It'll be with you always.  Your child will always be a part of you.

Positively February 2016: Day 3

Find a place inside where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.   - Joseph Campbell

My sweet boy.  I remember the day we had professional pictures taken like it was yesterday.  I'm not good at remembering things vividly.  I remember that day really well.  And after Preston passed, I felt so much guilt.  Guilt for going back to work.  Guilt for sending him to daycare.  Guilt for not spending as much time with him as I could have.  Guilt for not being there for his final moments.  And guilt for wanting a picture of him as an angel.  I thought it would be cute.  And of course it is cute, but I felt and still feel like I tempted fate... given that now Preston is a real angel.

Guilt is one of those emotions that often appears into my conscience.  Sometimes it is brought on by an event, or a thought.  Sometimes it just lingers for days on end.  It's probably the grieving emotion I've felt the most aside from sadness.

Sadness.  Guilt.  These emotions are what made me need to find some joy to be able to survive.  To be able to move forward.  To be able to get through each day.  

My place of joy?  Remembering all those special smiles that Preston would flash at me.  All I had to do was smile at him and there was his beaming smile.  I have hung on to the memories of the happiness that exuded from my son.  I have grasped on to the notion that Preston would want me to be happy.  That he would want me to find a reason to smile every day.

And it's worked.  For the most part anyway.

With the arrival of Preston's sister, Samantha, I've now another pure source of joy.

Positively February 2016: Day 2

"Start by doing what's necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible."  - Francis of Assisi

This one is so true.  While grieving, whether right at the beginning, or at any point during your journey where you feel the need to - just do what you have to do.  Eat, even if I know, you aren't hungry.  Sleep if you can.  I know it's tough.  I needed sleep aids for a while myself.

And what's necessary might be different from one person to another.  Some need to stay in bed for a while.  I on the other hand needed to dive into something productive like work.  So I worked a lot of hours and it kept me going.

Once you are in a better place, start doing a little more.  That might be cleaning the house, or doing the groceries.  It might be cooking or going on a vacation.  Take it slow.  If you need to go back to just the bear minimum, that's okay too.  There's nothing wrong with that at all.

And one day, you will realize that you are doing the impossible.  You survive.  I've often heard the counterproductive comment "I couldn't go on after a loss like that" in relation to losing my son.  You know what, I thought that exact same thing until I was in the situation where I didn't have a choice in the matter.  We do the impossible every day, and survive.  Life doesn't stop, even when time seems to.

Take it a step at a time, and one day, you will realize that you are Superwoman/Superman.

Positively February 2016: Day 1

I thought I'd try doing Positively February again this year.  Hopefully I'm able to keep up with it.  I will try my best, but as most know, as a mom, free time is not always easy to find... especially since I want to spend as much time as possible with Samantha before I go back to work in 5 and a half weeks.  How time flies...

"Grief never ends... but it changes.  It's a passage, not a place to stay.  Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith... It is the price of love." - Unknown

What I've come to learn in the last almost 2 years is that grief truly does never end.  I think of my son every day.  Some days, it makes me smile.  Other days, it's as painful to think about him as it was in the days after losing him.  Just today, we put Sami in one of Preston's old fleece pajamas.  The one with the penguins.  It was too much.  We had to take it off within 10 minutes of putting it on, even though she was fast asleep.  Triggers still exist that will send us into a tailspin even though we have so much joy in our lives again with our little girl.

I agree that grief isn't a place we should stay in.  While grief never ends, it's a journey.  Not a linear journey by all means, but a long winding journey filled with peaks and valleys.  I often have memory flashes of Preston while rocking Sami.  Or while playing with her as she learns to smile.  I love every minute with her, but it's certainly not always easy.  She's filled a huge part of the hole that exists in my heart, but she will never fully fill it.  Nor would I want her too.  I love Preston just as much as I love her.

That makes it so hard sometimes.  I want to be so happy, yet here comes a memory that just makes me want to fall apart.  And it's not her fault.  I hope that when I do shed a few tears, it doesn't cause her any anxiety.

I've never felt that grief was a sign of weakness.  Nor have I ever felt that keeping on going after Preston passed was a sign of strength.  It's purely survival.  You don't have a choice.  You keep going.  And faith?  Well, yes, my faith is still shaken but I continue to pray.  I continue to be mad at God and often ask for his forgiveness for being mad at Him.  But I believe He understands.  He lost his son too after all.

Grief certainly is the price of love.  I wouldn't trade having had Preston in my life for anything in the world.  It was worth every second.  The pain I still feel today, was worth it.  Don't be afraid to love because you might lose.

I don't know how positive this post has been, so let me end it this way.  Grief is a non-linear journey.  Don't get discouraged if you feel that you are taking a step back.  Or taking 3 steps back for every one that you take.  It's ok to feel weak.  Basically, anything you are feeling is ok.  You need to feel what you need to feel.  I would however urge anyone who feels overly depressed to talk to someone.  Let it out.  What you are thinking and feeling, share it.  Share the love you felt.  In time, you will see that your grief takes different shapes.  I hope one of those shapes, even if not all the time, takes the shape of positivity. <3

Rocky Bear

Pictured above with Sami is Rocky Bear.  I named him that way because we got him from Rocky Mountain Children's Hospital when Sami had to be admitted for jaundice.  Rocky Bear was in her billi bed with her the whole time.  

I felt a weird connection with this bear.  Perhaps it was because he watched over her at all times.  Perhaps it was because Preston's nursery theme was bears and it made me feel like he was watching over her.  Perhaps, in some bizarre way, I felt like part of his soul was in this bear.

Sami, now almost 6 weeks old, enjoys kicking around in her bassinet.  She enjoys moving around, and baby talking and almost shrieking with happiness.  She talks a lot to Rocky Bear and he has a great listening ear.

I continue to feel like Preston is somehow connected to this bear.  I miss my son so much, even though I am over the moon filled with happiness with my little girl.  Perhaps it is wishful thinking to hope that he's around.  But isn't it possible?  Is it so bad to want to believe?

Sleep

Preston - 3 weeks old

Sleep.  It's meant so many things in my life.  For years, I would sleep a lot.  On weekends, I would sleep until the late hours of the morning.  After my bowel resection surgery, I figured out that I slept that much because my body needed it to try and heal itself.  Crohn's disease had taken it's toll on my body, as I was tired.  All the time.  After the surgery, I began needing less sleep, a significant amount less of sleep.

When Preston was born, sleep was difficult for the first month or so.  He was so small, and I worried at all the little noises he made.  Plus, I was up every 2 and a half hours to pump and feed him.  As he got bigger, and didn't need to eat so often, I began sleeping more.  Looking back on my time with him, even with his small size, and being a first time mother, I only remember being exhausted a couple times.  Sleep was never something that bothered me.

After he passed away, sleep was really hard to come by.  The evenings and nights had been ours.  The late night feedings.  Rocking in the nursery.  Telling stories.  Playing after his evening feeding until it was time for sleep.  It was all gone and I struggled.  For a while, I had to take anxiety pills so that I could actually sleep.  After I had gone back to work, during the week, I'd get just a couple hours of sleep each night.  It would take forever for me to fall asleep.  A couple hours after going to bed, when I finally would pass out, I would soon wake up.  4 to 5 times a night.  Again it would take a while to fall asleep, perhaps not hours, but by the end of the night, if I had 2-3 hours of sleep... that was pretty good.  To allow my heart, body and head to rest.. Friday and Saturday nights, I would take Xanax.  It lasted for a couple months until I was able to get a little more sleep as time went on.

With Samantha... sleep is difficult.  I constantly feel the need to check on her.  Mostly because of what happened to Preston.  But, she has a lot of noises that freak us out.  One in particular where the squeaking noise she makes sounds like she's choking, but she's not.  Needless to say, it often keeps me up.

When she doesn't burp well, I usually can't sleep for fear that she'll spit up and choke.  This usually only happens when she falls asleep while eating. This has resulted in many sleepless nights.  I do try to sleep.  I really do.  And some nights, I manage.  Other nights, like last night, I fail miserably.  Her noises were really difficult - on top of her usual squeaking, she sounded like she was wheezing.  I was alone with her, and it was enough to give me a panic attack.  Finally she fell asleep and when she woke up in the middle of the night, the wheezing was gone.  I didn't get any sleep until the early AM hours.

With time, I hope that sleep will come more easily.  I hope that Sami's noises become less stressful.  As time goes on, she will sleep more at night which will hopefully result in the same for me.  In the meantime, I take it a day at a time and take some daytime naps, when sleepless nights occur.

Samantha - 3 weeks old

Possibly my favorite picture.  The only picture that shows both my babies.  Preston represented in my special locket around my neck, and Samantha in my arms. <3

Embarking on a new roller coaster ride

Hard to believe that our daughter was born 2 weeks ago already!  We are so thrilled and blessed.  That being said, it has been an incredibly emotional 2 weeks.

The fears of loss in pregnancy, and the fears for a healthy baby went away when Samantha was born.  She had a good cry when she came into the world and although she was small (5 lbs 13 oz), she looked healthy.  While these fears went away, new fears appeared.  Fears I knew would be there, but feeling them has been more overwhelming than anticipated.

It is difficult to sleep.  Not because I have to be up every three hours to feed our baby, but because of that crippling fear of loss.  I constantly feel like I need to watch her.  That need has lessened since the first few days, but it is still there.  At this time, the only person I trust to watch her as I sleep is my husband.  It's not that I don't want to trust other people, I'm just still very sensitive to the loss of Preston, and that loss has created an immense fear of losing our daughter too.  I do not want to live in fear forever, and every day it seems to slowly get better, but it will take time.

The most stressful moments so far?  There has been several but the stand outs - when the nurse took our daughter for her 15 minute check up on night two (or one?) and she was gone for 30 minutes.  She hadn't been eating well and it felt like at times she was choking.  My tired mind, and my aching heart jumped to irrational conclusions and I began to panic that something was wrong.  Turns out, she had some amniotic fluid in her belly which was making it hard for her to feed, so they decided to do a lavage, removing all the fluids from her belly.  Not being aware that this was going on, I had a mini anxiety attack and hubby went to look for her.  All in all, everything ended well as she started feeding better again.

The other moment was when we were re-admitted a day after going home due to Samantha having jaundice.  Our little girl had to go on the bili-bed.  It was absolutely gut-wrenching.  Her cries as she couldn't see anything due to the baby goggles.  Her cries as we couldn't pick her up to soothe her.  Her constant wiggling from one side to the other as she tried to soothe herself.  Finally, we decided to give her a pacifier to help her fall asleep.  It worked as long as she sucked on it long enough without spitting it out.  For what felt like hours, I would have to stand there, with my finger propping the pacifier, all the while trying not to provide any shade on her.  She was on the high-tech bed and LED lights for 14 hours... some of the longest hours of my life.  Moments of relief happened every three hours when I got to pick her up and feed her.  Needless to say, I didn't sleep for the duration of our hospital stay (which thankfully was only about 24 hours).

We've had a lot of happy times, which I plan to write about.  I've also struggled with memories of Preston.  The first time I rocked Samantha in the nursery as it reminded me of the times I spent with Preston in that same room.  Listening to the songs that play from the baby swing.  Sometimes, just holding her.

As we embark on this new ride, I am reminded that it will be filled with twists, turns, highs and lows.  I pray that the lows are few, though I know I will never cease to miss my son.  I pray that the twists and turns are minor.  Most of all, I pray that Samantha lives a long (very long), healthy life.

The day before

Dear Preston,

We bought you a new ornament this year.  I think it's a nice tradition to get you one yearly; make you part of our celebration.  In 2013, I bought you "Baby's First Christmas", never once thinking it would be the only one we spent together.  Last year, I made the ball ornament at our Angel Eyes Christmas gathering meeting.  This year, we got you a bunny ornament since bunnies always make me think of you.

I hope you come join us, somehow, someway for this year's Christmas celebration.  We'll have a candle lit all day, as we did last year.  We put up decorations this year.  A tree, stockings (we have one for you too), and the Christmas village.  That's about it though.  Maybe next year, we'll muster up the courage to put up lights outside and more decorations indoor.

With your sister on the way, having something to celebrate at Christmas has been easier this year than last.  However, it doesn't make it easy.  I don't know that it will ever be easy.  Forever, we will be missing you.  On our laps, in our arms, running around.  Your smile, and pure love.  We do have one thing though - you will ALWAYS be in our hearts.  Wherever we go, whatever we do.

Tomorrow, as you know, things will be changing...

Your sister will be making her entrance into the world.  Know that this does not mean I won't be thinking of you every day.  Please know that our relationship doesn't change.  I will always love you.  You will always live in my heart, and a piece of my heart will always be with you.  No one, not even your sister, will ever fully mend my broken heart.

Love you always,
Mama


As for you my dear blog readers, yes, you read correctly.  Samantha will be here in less than 24 hours.  For the past 2 weeks, I've been on bed rest at home.  While I haven't been confined to an actual bed, my activities have been extremely limited.  Making easy meals, running a few errands, decorating the Christmas tree, wrapping presents, and doing a lot of sitting down and watching TV.

I've also been going to my OB's office twice a week.  I've been plagued with headaches, some days they are worse than others.  My blood pressure has fluctuated between normal and slightly high.  But I've had no other symptoms displaying possible pre-eclampsia like I did two years ago when I was pregnant with Preston.  On Friday, my OB wanted to see us again on Monday, as to evaluate if I was starting to go into labor, and to make a plan given that she's going out of town this upcoming Friday.  Monday, there were absolutely no signs of me being in labor.  As with every visit, I had a non-stress test and everything looked good.  Baby girl had a good heartbeat and moved around.  However, when came time to measure my belly for size, my doctor felt that the baby might be small.  For this reason, she asked us to return the next day for a full growth ultra-sound.

We did just that.  Tuesday morning, despite the blizzard, we drove to her office, waited a long time since the ultra-sound tech was late, and had the scan.  Things looked good on the monitor aside from Samantha's size.  Two weeks ago, she was measuring 6 lbs 1 oz.  At this point in pregnancy, she should be gaining about half a pound a week.  She measured 6 lbs 5 oz yesterday.

My doctor believes that what is happening is that my placenta is starting to calcify earlier than it should, restricting the nutrients that are being supplied to baby girl through the umbilical cord.  She's active, has grown, and is performing her "breathing exercises" inside the womb which are great signs.  However, having her come out now will give her the best opportunity to really thrive, and grow.

And so, I have a c-section scheduled tomorrow.  I'm not in labor, and am not exhibiting any signs of labor.  I was induced when I wasn't in labor 2 years ago and that resulted in a c-section.  Given my history of pre-eclampsia, and the fact that my blood pressure hasn't been super stable, my doctor, who usually doesn't recommend c-sections, suggested that this was the route for us to go down.  It is the safest and best choice for both my health and the baby's.  The other reassuring factor - I'll be 39 weeks along tomorrow.  That's a good month more cooking than what Preston got.

In just over 12 hours time, our little darling girl will be here.  We are stoked.  We are nervous.  We are happy, and anxious.  For me, this pregnancy has been filled with ups and downs.  Fears of loss, fears of complications.  While those fears aren't completely gone, and I know that a different fear of loss will appear tomorrow, I am looking forward to meeting this little girl that's been squirming inside of me for the better part of 2015.

I can only pray that she has a long life ahead of her.  I will pray day in and day out.  Bad days, hard days will come.  I know it.  But I hope, that all in all, we give Samantha a long happy life.  And a healthy one.

Looking forward to meeting you little lady! Stay tuned ;)

Familiar hallways

Monday, we found ourselves walking down all too familiar hallways.  The hallways of the old Sky Ridge birth center where we spent a lot of time with Preston.  Past those NICU doors that felt like a second home for a while.

Monday, I had my regularly scheduled, monthly OB appointment.  My blood pressure was slightly elevated, and not wanting to take any chances, I was taken to the hospital for some monitoring.  Monitoring of my blood pressure, and a nonstress test for the baby.  This test records movement, heartbeat and contractions.  I also went through a couple other tests like blood tests.

We sat there for a couple hours, maybe a few hours.  My blood pressure went down and the whole time my baby girl's vitals looked great.

It was quite the scare.  The possibility of pre-eclampsia again.  The thought of having Samantha arrive early.  It was rather overwhelming, and probably did not help my blood pressure.

As a precaution, and to give the baby the best chance to go full term, I've been placed on bed rest.  Not strict bed rest in the hospital, but for the most part, I'm refined to the couch/bed.  I can get up to make some lunch, take a shower, etc.  I'm however not allowed to work on any projects, such as cleaning the pantry, or getting the baby's room ready.  Good thing that's all done!


This is day 4 of my bed rest situation.  While I'm bored, I'm thankful for this chance to give my daughter her best chance at staying inside the womb for another 3 weeks.  I also keep reminding myself of all the signs my son has sent me in the past week, to try and reassure me that things will be alright.

The day before my birthday, just over a week ago, on my way home, I decided to listen to music out of the blue.  Iris came on.  A little while later, as the train stopped at the University station, I saw the weirdest rainbow - there was a sticker on a sign.  The sticker was of a odd looking man... wearing a rainbow hat.  As the train went on, not even a station or two later, there was a bunny hopping along a hill.

That was just one day.  There have been several more signs since then - the biggest one is how active Samantha has been during the nonstress tests (we had another one yesterday).  This keeps mama calm, and I'm thankful for Preston communicating that to his sister when I need that from her.

3 more weeks.  I pray that I don't need to walk down those halls again.  Should we have to though, I feel that everything will work out.  Still, I pray for 3 more weeks of pregnancy.

This and that...

Where does the time go.  Every time I want to sit down and write, something comes up or it's time for bed!  Tonight, while every inch of me wants to just sit and watch General Hospital where interesting things are happening (yay November sweeps!), I am taking the time to write.  For myself, for Preston, and for anyone who might get something out of this.

The Nursery

Samantha's room has been coming along nicely.  The wall painting is complete and I love the way the light lilac color looks next to the baby blue wall.  I'm even more excited that hubby ended up liking the lighter lilac color like I did... mostly because of it's name -- Guardian Angel.  Doesn't that seem so appropriate?  We moved the crib from the left side of the room to the right side of the room just to give it a different feel.  I'm starting to look forward to spending a lot of time in there.  The door to her and Preston's room has been open for weeks now, and it feels nice.  It feels like a happy room again.

The one disappointment has been that the decal stars and moon aren't sticking to the wall very well.  We even tried to get them to adhere to the wall better using a hot iron.  Time to get some spray adhesive me thinks...

Approaching 34-35 weeks

We believe Preston was born at about 35 weeks, if not 34 weeks, despite what the doctors say.  I will be 34 weeks along with Samantha tomorrow.  That realization has been weighing on my mind for the past couple weeks.  I try to remain calm as everything seems to be going well, however it's still scary.  The sight of possible swelling freaks me out.  Hearing someone tell me that there was "no way" I was making it all the way to December 24th, sent me for a tailspin.  What not to say to a grieving mama, to a mama who had preeclampsia and who had a baby too early?  That.  That is a great example of what not to say.

I have an appointment with my OB this Friday, so I hope that will help calm my nerves.  I'm not panicking or anything, but it's constantly at the back of my mind.  I try to remain positive.  Really, I just want things to be okay and normal.  For once.

Preston's birthday and #SpreadHappinessForPreston

I can't believe my baby would be 2 years old in just about a week.  I feel like I haven't pushed #SpreadHappinessForPreston enough this year.  Last year, I wrote to the Ellen show.  Last year, I physically mailed a letter to everyone that lives on my street, it's tributary streets and the street across from the greenbelt behind our house.  I didn't do it this year, even though I had the intention to.

I thought of writing to the local newspaper to share my story, Preston's story, his smile and his message.  

In my heart, I've hoped that #SpreadHappinessForPreston becomes bigger every year.  I don't know that it will be and I only have myself to blame.  I hope mama didn't disappoint you baby boy.

Signs

Signs from Preston aren't as frequent as they once were.  I see the occasional bunny.  Rainbows are rare.  I was on the train last week.  Upset due to the fact that someone thought I wouldn't make it to Christmas Eve.  I've gained about 20-25 lbs.  I'm not huge by any means, so I'm not sure why this was said to me (not that I have any qualms about my weight or anything).

Well I turned on Pandora and accidentally hit the "Shuffle" bar and there it was... Iris.  I just about cried... and I did feel better and smiled

I tell you, signs exist.

Halloween

For the second year in a row, I didn't quite know what to expect with this holiday.  I'd been looking forward to it so much last year, wanting to see my little boy as a cute lion.  I expected a lot more children to stop by on Halloween since it was a weekend day.  Maybe a total of 45 kids stopped by, most of them in droves of about 10.  I feel like I hardly had a chance to see their costumes.  My favorite?  I can't even remember.

Brett and I thought of Preston that evening.  We wondered what costume we might have put him in this year.  I think we landed on a bear cub.  Seems fitting given that was the theme of his nursery was teddy bears.

I was able to capture a beautiful sunset before the children started ringing the doorbell.  Golden clouds above barren trees.  The calm and cool air felt peaceful and made me feel close to my son.

The zoo

The weekend before Halloween, we went to the zoo with our close friends and their two children.  It's something I'd wanted to do with Preston at some point, especially knowing his love for big cats.  He seemed so enthralled as he watched them on TV in the morning with his dad.

It was packed at the zoo.  I guess it was a special day where you could bring your child in costume and they could trick or treat in the zoo.  Cool concept.  I enjoyed watching our friends' two year old marvel at some of the animals.  And while I struggled seeing some of the animals I think would have interested Preston, I feel like he followed us there and spent the way with us.  On the way home, we stopped at BabiesRUs and bought a bunch of clothes for Samantha, as well as decorations for her room.  It was a nice family day.

On a side note, if you haven't gotten a chance to go to the Denver Zoo lately, I strongly recommend going while the Lego exhibits are still scattered around the zoo.  They are stunning sculptures.  I believe this is a travelling exhibit, so if you aren't in Denver, hopefully it comes to a zoo near you! ;)

That's about all that's going on with me.  I hope that everyone who reads this is well.  Sending you lots of love, courage, and smiles.  Until next time <3

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.