Into the closet we go...

I've got the case of the writer's block.  I have many idea posts, but they are all posts that I need to really sit down and think about so that I say everything I want to say.  Posts for a day off.  For a weekend.

And so, I'm going to off in a different direction.  Let me ask you this question: what is your favorite article of clothing, and why?  For me it's really simple - my wedding dress.

Every girl's dream is to have a wedding dress.  Go out, shop and try on beautiful dresses.  Perhaps dresses you could never afford.  I went to a bridal shop in Montreal, and bought the 3rd dress I tried on.  I didn't need to try on more - it was perfect.  Strapless.  Subtle yet delicate beading, including little blue gleaming stones.  My something blue.  Simple.  And it fit just perfectly.

How did it make me feel to wear this dress?  Special.  Pretty.  Happy.  Relaxed.  You've heard of Bridezilla right?  Our photographer kept commenting on how I was the complete opposite of it.  I was the most calm bride he'd ever met.  Not freaking out about every detail of the wedding and reception.  Not worried about time.  Not worried about my hair, or make up or dress.  And really, I wasn't.  It was one of the happiest days of my life.  Maybe it helped that Brett and I were already married?  I suppose it's possible, though I don't believe that.  When you know, you know.  I knew with Brett before we even met face to face.  Crazy right?  We got married at the County Recorder's office in March 19, 2007 and then had a church wedding in September of he same year.  Getting married in April allowed for us to work on immigration right away.  Considering I didn't get to move to the United States until February 2008, I'd say that was a fabulous decision.  Plus, we were and are still in love, so it only made sense.  You be the judge on how relaxed I was... 

Any other favorite articles of clothing?  Perhaps the pyjamas that Preston always spit up on.  Just because it makes me smile to think about him.  My grey and black striped maternity shirt - makes me think of being pregnant with Preston, but also reminds me of that chance encounter outside my OB's office building where a woman was wearing that same shirt when I was desperately asking God for signs that Preston was ok.  My yoga pants because they are so comfortable.  Those all make me happy.  Sometimes the maternity shirt will make me sad, much like my pyjamas, but I'm blessed to have these memories.  Something to hold on to.  Something that let's me think about my son, a little bit more.

I often thought of what life lessons I could teach Preston.  How I would help heal his wounded heart after his first heartbreak was one of them.  I thought about what it would be like when he got married one day, far into the future.  I'll never know, but it doesn't stop me from thinking.  He would have been all smiles, that's for sure.

The light above the sink

There's a light right above our sink.  For 14-15 weeks, it was on 24/7, except for that one time when it burnt out.  I left it on one night because I didn't want to have the light on in the hallway.  That light would have woken up my hubby, or my baby.  It probably would have kept me up too, even if I was only sleeping no more than two hours at a time.  I needed this light, so that I could go down the stairs without tripping, especially while holding Preston.  Perhaps I was paranoid to drop him not that I can ever see myself letting that happen.  I'm notoriously klutzy though, so I didn't want to risk it.  We did everything right, everything by the book, even when that meant taking precautions.

The light above the sink helped me get Preston's bottle ready - whether that meant heating up pumped breastmilk, or preparing formula.  It allowed me to see as I washed his bottles, pacifiers and pumping supplies, all the while he slept in the living room, a few steps away.  It gave me just enough light, to do what I needed, while providing a quiet, calm environment for my son.

This light has been off for months, and months.  I've had to turn it on a couple times, like today and it triggers so many memories.  My husband can't stand to see this light on.  I wouldn't be surprised if he's thought about taking this light out altogether.

It's tough, to have this light on, and not see the drying bottle rack on to the right of the sink.  It's difficult to not have bottles to wash, to not have that little grey tub we brought back from the hospital, filled with bottles and boiling hot water.  It's challenging to be at the sink, under this bright light without lullabies playing in the background from Preston's swing as it sways him to sleep.

Those things aren't far away.  Bottles in Preston's closet and a few in the garage, in a bag in the baby carrier.  I'm so thankful that Barry went to pick that up from the nanny's.  I couldn't deal with it.  Not now, not 10 months ago.  The drying rack may be Preston's closet, or perhaps in a cupboard with the baby bullet & supplies - which I never got to use.  The swing is in the nursery, along with the bouncer, and the bassinet, and the mini bassinet.  Out of sight, out of mind? If only it were so easy.

It's more like out of sight, less on my mind.  Less in my face.  Less of a reminder of what's missing, even if I'm ever so aware of my baby not being here.  There are just certain things, certain smells, certain sounds, certain situations that trigger certain memories which are more difficult to live with.

For today though, turning on that light to do dishes, wasn't as painful as in the past.  It made me smile to remember all those evenings I spent with Preston.  All those dishes I did.  My hands got so dry. While I can not bring back the past, I cannot relive all those precious moments - I have the memories.  I hope to never lose my mind so that I can remember until my time comes.

Triggers can be painful.  But every now and then, the pain is worth the reminder.  I hadn't thought about those evenings in this way in a long time.  Much like I hadn't seen a beautiful sunset in months.  It was a purple haze of a sunset, and it totally made me think of Preston.  And it made me smile.

Endless year, quick year

I attended our support group tonight.  Two of the couples who also attended, are days away from the one year mark of the loss of their precious children - Ryder and Salem.  Since the holidays have passed, Preston's angelversary has certainly been on my mind.  I mentioned something tonight that everyone seemed to agree with - it's been the shortest and longest year of my life.  Time is relative - you've probably read this statement within my blog maybe times.

It's been the shortest year because it seems like a bad dream that Preston is gone.  It feels like losing him just happened.  And it did - 10 months ago.  It feels like the longest year because at the same time, it feels like a decade ago that I held my baby.

When I came home, I did something I seldom do - I opened the door to Preston's room and walked in.  I stroked the mattress in his crib where he used to lay.  I looked in the mini bassinet that we stored in the crib after he passed - when we needed to hideaway all his things.  We continue to have that need.  It was filled with some toys, onesies, binkies and right on top - his social security card.  Remember how I'd been looking for it? Funny how things turn up.  It gave me hope, even if only for a fleeting moment.

I was sad after stepping into his room, looking through a few things, reminiscing about the nights I spent in this nursery, rocking my little guy to sleep.  I was sad thinking about the upcoming days for my friends Abi and Ryan, Brittani & Skyler.  Milestones should be happy, but for the bereaved parent, they are something you dread.  They hurt.  They are reminders of what isn't.  What we are missing.  What should be.  I myself wish I could permanently erase March 13th from the calendar.  

Will you think of my friends for the next week or so?  Send them positive energy, keep them in your prayers, close to your heart.  I know it sounds absurd to a lot of people, but the power of positive energy is mightier than you think.  I often feel like I'm able to get up every morning because of all the support I have.  Because of all the positive energy everyone sends my way.  Because I'm in your prayers.  So, I do believe it makes a difference.  If you are so inclined, I'd even encourage you to do a random act of kindness for Ryder and Salem.  Keep their memory alive.

In closing, I want to share what a friend and her husband did on Preston's birthday to spread happiness.  I have so many to share, and tonight felt appropriate to share this one.  That moment of hope I felt earlier, being in Preston's room, missing him, remembering brought this on.

Teddy bears were Preston's theme, as I've shared before.  He was to be a Cubs fan, so teddy bears only made sense.  Jess and her husband Brendan donated Tucker, a teddy bear, to the Toy Shop for Dolls for Daughters.  Tucker was given a #SpreadHappinessForPreston card and the child who receives Tucker, will learn all about Preston.  I was so touched when I read Jess' card, about this gesture, and donation.  It tugged at all the strings of my heart - in a good way.  The teddy bear, making a child smile by receiving said teddy bear, and sharing Preston with another person.  What more could a mom want?  Thank you guys.  Thank you for sharing my son's story, his life, his smile.  Thank you for your wishes for peace on Preston's birthday and every other day.  Really, truly it makes such a difference in my life.  You make such an impact, and I don't think I could ever repay you. <3

Riding the waves of change

It is hard to lead a life where change doesn't exist - warranted or not.  We can live our lives with consistency and routine, but change is unavoidable.  Things become obsolete.  People come into our lives, while others leave - not necessarily through death, but sometimes.  The latest and greatest invention comes into our lives.  Unpredictable weather causes changes in plans.

Change can be scary.  A lot of people try to avoid it as to remain in the comfort of what they know, what they understand, what they want.  Sometimes change is necessary such as leading a healthier lifestyle for health purposes.  I've been there.

Change can be difficult.  Adapting to a life without Preston is oh so challenging.  I often find myself staring at babies at the store, wondering if that's how my son would be acting now.  Hopefully I don't look like a crazed maniac that's enthralled with another person's child.  I just get mesmerized, into the what should have been, instead of what is.  I didn't choose this path.  I didn't have a choice to deal with this tremendous wave that crashed into my life.

With a new year comes the ever popular resolutions we try to adopt every year.  The changes we try to make, which I think are a good thing.  Remember, control what you can in life.  That makes it easier to cope and deal with the unpredictable changes that occur throughout your life.  Last year, I wanted to try a new recipe every week.  As with most people, I succeeded for a short period of time, and then it went out the window.  It was rather ambitious, but I was on maternity leave when I made the resolution and had more time on my hands, even with a newborn.

One tough year later, my resolutions will be a little less bold for 2015.

1. Use my crock-pot/slow cooker once a month
2. Continue losing weight and maintain it once I reach a decent goal
3. Exercise more - start slow - use the exercise bike every day after work
4. Continue with my blog and try to make #SpreadHappinessForPreston even more successful on 11/19/15
5. Take one class of some kind - cooking, artsy, accounting, photography
6. Keep a better house
7. Plant seeds in Preston's garden earlier (right after Mother's Day)
8. Take more pictures
9. Reach out to one person every month who seems to be struggling - someone I know or a stranger
10. Honor my son, by smiling more

Ten resolutions probably sounds like a lot but I think it gives me flexibility.  If I happen to fail with one, I'll have the satisfaction of having followed several.

I vow to ride these waves of change, by welcoming some into my life.  After all, without change, we'd have no beautiful, colorful butterflies.

What are your resolutions for 2015?

A watched water dispenser doesn't make bubbles

Our cats are funny creatures.  When we change the water in their bowl/dispenser, they sit next to it for hours because as the water first dispenses, air bubbles make it into the tiny water jug.  They try to get them by batting at it or grabbing it with their paws.  It's actually become a hobby of theirs to watch this water dispenser, even when we haven't just changed their water.  It bubbles so seldom, yet they continue to patiently wait for movement, like the small predators that they are, ready to pounce.  Don't they know that a watched water dispenser doesn't make bubbles?

I feel a little clever for finding a way to fit the popular saying to fit my situation - a watched pot doesn't boil.  What am I trying to say with all these metaphors?  Sitting by a window, staring at the sky won't make a rainbow appear.  In the middle of winter, I can't expect to see bunnies at every corner.  I can't spend my every waking moment looking for signs, yet I find myself doing just that.  I try not to, but it becomes difficult when the signs are few and far between.  I think after Christmas, I stopped looking for a little while.  Not because I didn't want any, but because I got busy at work, at home.  I kept really busy actually.  This does not mean Preston wasn't on my mind.  I think about him constantly, day and night.

And that's when all those signs appeared.  I wasn't looking for them, but I believe in them.  Much like when my cats aren't looking at their water dispenser, it will occasionally create an air bubble.  They could sit there all night and not get a bubble, and there it would be, 2 minutes later.  Or hours later.

In the grand scheme of things, I can't teach my cats patience, but I myself have grown to have a lot of patience.  With myself.  With others.  With my health.  With time.  Slowly, I hope to learn patience in between signs sent by Preston.  I don't know how Heaven works.  Maybe angels can only do some so often.  Maybe he's busy spreading happiness halfway around the world.  Maybe sending signs requires moving Heaven and Earth.  Whatever it may take, I will try to have more patience.  I will try not to expect signs every day.  I will attempt to not be too sad when I go days, weeks without one.  I'll never stop hoping for them though.  Keep sending them Preston :)

Thanks for sending bunnies to Jocelyn today.  She sent me nice pictures.  Always makes me smile when someone else thinks about you and tells me about it.  You live on my love, my sweet Preston.  You always will...

Chasing bunny-looking doggies

We ended up getting close to nine inches of snow last night.  More than the six, I'd seen last night.  My car was buried and the roads promised to be slippery.  My sweet hubby was so kind to drive me to the train station in the F150.  There's a reason we bought it after all.

It was incredible.  Totally unexpected.  It took me by surprise and made me smile.  As we made our way down Meadows Parkway, we had to stop due to a red light.  A dreaded red light.  The one by the hospital.  I looked out my window to the right as to avoid staring at the hospital to our left.  And there it was.  A little bunny hopping along the recently plowed sidewalk, in the bitter coldness of the morning.  I couldn't believe by eyes!  I haven't seen a bunny since late October or early November.  It reinforced that thought I had about yesterday's snow storm.  It really was from Preston.  How can I even doubt it now?  Thank you my love.  Thank you for letting me know I shouldn't doubt my gut, even for something as subjective as signs from the beyond.

I listened to Pandora as the train went on it's merry way, as I do most mornings.  "Numb" played, reminding me that I don't know what life expects from me.  It was followed by "The Middle" which has helped me smile on rough days since the loss of my son.  I am most certainly in the "middle of the ride", doing my best to ride this wave that seems to have stabilized.  For now.  I know it will change.  You can't fool me anymore.

I skipped the next couple songs because they were too angry for my mood this morning .  I was still floating on a cloud from having seen that bunny rabbit.  "Can't Hurry Love" came on after another song or two.  I listened to it for awhile, but had to stop.  I was getting emotional as I felt this was a lesson I would have tried to teach Preston - you really can't hurry love.  I was just about ready to hit "skip song" again until I heard that familiar guitar strum.  "Iris".  Tears filled my eyes.  It'd been so many weeks of not hearing it.  So many times I'd skipped songs hoping to hear it.  Hearing it today... after yesterday's snow storm. After Mr. Bunny's sighting.  Serendipity?  I'm afraid not.  A sign.  A clear sign.

I listened to the live version of Iris.  I tried keeping my composure on the train but I know I shed some tears.  And then, "A Song for Mama" followed "Iris".  So much for composure.  I've heard this song just 3 times.  Right before Mother's Day.  A day before Christmas.  Today.  I just cannot ignore that this is a sign from my little boy.  I didn't want to be Mom.  Or Momma.  Or Maman.  I was his Mama.  Just makes this song that much more powerful for me.

I wish I could have taught Preston so many things.  How to walk.  How to talk.  How to count and how to recite the alphabet.  How to swim and how to dance.  Instead, it seems it's the other way around.  He teaches me all the time.  Teaches me to have faith in God, and in Heaven.  Teaches me how deep love can be.  Teaches me compassion, understanding, sorrow.  He may not be here, but Preston's not too far either.  Keep chasing those bunny-looking doggies.  I'll keep my eyes open for them.

Never gonna go a day without you

Fills me up just thinking about you

I'll never go a day without my mama

Mama, mama, you know I love you

Mama, mama, you're the queen of my heart

Your love is like tears from the stars

Mama, I just want you to know

Loving' you is like food to my soul

Right back at you sweetheart.

Hope glistens in the snow

We spent a quiet New Year's day.  Brett's parents were over.  We had a nice lunch and they left in the early of the afternoon as a snow storm rolled in.  I knew there was a chance for snow, but I had no idea that we'd get close to 6 inches.  As I was feeding the cats their dinner, the snow just called out to me.  Heavy snow flakes were falling and the snow on the back porch just glistened.  Stars in the snow.  Tiny globes of hope in the purity of fresh snowfall.

It made me hopeful that 2015 may become a good year.  Living without Preston is still very difficult.  Still isn't a good word.  This grief, this emptiness will follow me forever.  You learn to cope.  You find ways to live, laugh.  You become more accepting of what you can't change.  You don't forget.  You don't get over it.  You don't move on.  There's no still when it comes to grieving someone you love so deeply.  There's only living without part of yourself for the rest of your life.  I'm not still sad that my son's gone.  I will always be sad that he's no longer with us.  I'm not still grieving.  Grief is a never-ending companion.

All that being said though, I was overcome with serenity again today as I watched large flakes flow in the wind.  That same feeling of peace I felt on Mother's Day when Preston sent a storm.  Perhaps he sent this one too... Just to say, 2015 will be better.  After all, it can only go up from 2014...