#CaptureYourGrief - Day 5: Journal

 

 

I received the above pictured journal from one of my co-workers after Preston's passing.  I haven't written a word in it yet.  I think, one day, I'd like to write letters to Preston in it.  I've read a lot of passages that other angel mom's have written to their angel babies.  It's very moving, and I bet it's very therapeutic.  I talk to Preston all the time (in my head).  It'd be nice to put it on paper one day, but I struggle with that notion right now.  Writing him a letter that I can never give to him, that he'll never read. 

 

At the same time though, writing this blog, in his honor, is in itself a form of journaling.  I write about my grief.  About my healing journey.  About a tough day.  Memories.  Happy moments.  And the nice thing is, it's "out there" for anyone who finds it and read it.  It's available for others to relate to or to learn from the difficult journey of a grieving parent.  It's one thing to know that because of my little boy, I'm somehow helping others who are travelling a similar path.  It's another to know that I'm helping, motivating others that haven't experienced a loss, and help them appreciate the life that they have.  Both those things mean a lot to me.  I think the whole world could do with being happy for what they have, instead of dwelling on the negativity that comes into our lives.  Obstacles are placed into everyone's path, at some point in time.  The key is accepting that these hurdle are eventually going to come, and take them head on.  Some will knock you down for a while, and that's ok.  One day, you will get back up, and be ready for the next one.

 

I've mentioned this before, but I think it's important enough for me to "say" again.  Whether you've had a loss or not, don't take it for granted that the memories will always come to you easily.  My memory for small details hasn't always been good, but with age, my concentration as well as my memory, aren't what they used to be, and I'm only 32.  If there's something that you want to remember, like what the kicks of your son or daughter felt like, what your son's smile looked like, or what your daughter's giggle sounded like, write it down while it's still fresh.  If you are blessed with living children, take pictures, take videos.  Those will help memories come flooding back one day.  You don't have to keep an almost daily blog like me, or write in a journal every day, but don't under-estimate the power of putting pen to paper when it comes to memories.  I've come to learn, that one day, they may be all you have, and I'm ever so grateful for it.  There are many ways to keep a journal - paper, typewriter, word processing applications on a computer, blog, pictures, scrapbooks, memory boxes.  And for bereaved parents, I think that at least one of these, is a helpful tool which will provide some comfort.  I hope you consider keeping a "journal" one day.

#CaptureYourGrief - Day 4: Now

Who am I in this present moment? I'm still trying to figure that one out.  My emotions are so often on my sleeve now, instead of buried underneath this shell of protection.  I'm trying to find ways to live my life positively, to see all the goodness that is around me, even though my son is no longer physically here on Earth.  I want to make him proud, and try to do that every day by attempting to put my positive attitude about life out there, even though, my attitude could very easily be the opposite of positive.

I'm different now, because I'm not really scared of anything anymore, including death.  I don't understand it, but I don't fear it like I used to a few years ago.  The loss of that fear, has also created this openness I have about my life and feelings which I would have never dared to share with the world, let alone more than a couple people.  And I'm not ashamed of how I feel, who I am, and what I'm trying to do with my life.  Not to say I was ashamed before, but I certainly don't feel that I had that same spark of energy to try and help others see how beneficial and constructive it can be to have the right attitude.

I believe in signs, from Heaven, which isn't something I was open to before.  I think that's why I chose the bunny picture.  Always seeking signs from my little boy.  I did see one today :)

Quite frankly, I feel like I'm changing almost every day.  It's hard to explain, but perhaps when more time has past, I'll be able to express it in a clear manner.

Do I love anything about the "new" me?  I love that I'm able to be thankful about the little things like the sunrise, and the grass.  The rainbows and the clouds.  The sea and a garden.  We're so blessed with everything that surrounds us, and the older I get, the more I see that most people don't even seem to notice half of it as they are too lost in their smartphone or too much in a hurry to get wherever they are trying to go.  Yes, time flies.  But that certainly does not mean that we have to rush through life just to be able to get as much done as possible.  On the contrary, I think we should all slow down, and appreciate what we do have.  See some of the things that there are to see, that there are to experience out there, but take the time to savor it instead of it being something you "kind of" remember.

What do I want to become?  The mother to a living child.  I want to continue to make Preston proud, by sharing his smiles, who he was, and how he's changed me, continues to change me.  All I can do, is take it a moment at a time.  Ride the waves of the ocean, and enjoy the moments where all is calm.

#CaptureYourGrief - Day 3: Before

Today's topic of Carly Marie's October "Capture Your Grief" project is before.  The following questions were asked and of course you can choose to answer the ones you want.  It can be one, or two, or all of them.

"Day 3: BEFORE. Who were you before your children died? Do you miss anything about that person? What did you love about that person? Did you dislike anything? Do you see your life as before and after or do you believe that you have always been changing?"

Who was I before Preston died?  I was a happy mom who believed her life was perfect.  I finally had the perfect work/home balance.  My health was good.  We had a handsome baby boy.  And while, life was perfect, I still complained a lot about the little things.  I assumed that I should be immune to tragedies because of all the struggles I'd already faced with my health issues and that I'll experience again in the future, because such is the life with a chronic illness.  While I feared SIDS, I never would have believed that it could happen to our sweet little boy.  At the same time, who I was before? It almost feels blurry.. like I was living someone else's life.

Do I miss anything about who I was?  I miss how easily happiness came to me.  A sweet little smile from Preston and my whole day was turned around.  It feels much more difficult to smile now.  It happens, but it's often dampened with feelings of guilt.  The guilt of being happy when I should be broken in a million pieces.  The guilt of smiling when I have too many reasons to be sad.  I miss not feeling that guilt at every corner.

What did I love about that person?  I loved my optimism.  I never liked thinking about the glass being half empty.  I struggle a lot more now to see the glass half full.  I try really hard to, but it's definitely not as easy.  I don't think this is totally gone.  I still always try to see the best in others.  I do easily see the worst case scenario now.

Did I dislike anything?  I disliked the fact of how much I complained about little things.  Maybe I didn't publicly complain, but I complained to a few close friends, and my husband.  It's my biggest pet peeve now, when I see people complaining about things they should be thankful for.  And of course it's not their fault.  To complain is human.  It's natural.  It's releasing for the mind.  I'm ever so mindful about it now though, complaining.  I still do it, don't get me wrong, but I'm certainly much more conscious of what I gripe about.

Do I see my life as before and after or do I believe that I have always been changing?  This is a tough one.  It's a bit of both I guess.  I do see my life as before Preston passed away, and after he passed away.  It's the most life changing experience of my life.  I feel like a part of me is totally gone now.  But at the same time, I know that I'm always growing.  My bowel obstructions in 2012 changed my outlook on a lot of things dramatically.  Moving from one country to another made for a lot of life and attitude adjustments.  There are many more experiences that I've gone through that have shaped me into who I am, and I'm sure, I will have many more that will again shift my way of thinking and living.  Such is the story that is life.  I don't ever want to regress, and I'd be bored if I were to remain stagnant.  I only pray that the experiences that help shape me into a better person are positive, instead of tragic.  I don't mind difficult, but I'm about done with heartbreaking and unbearable.

The thing to keep in mind though, before, after, now, then, Preston changed my life.  Through his life and through his death, and at the risk of repeating myself, no one has ever made such an impact on my life.  I hope that I continue to learn more from him, as I have as I somehow try to continue to be a mother to him.  It's certainly not easy, but I hope that he's as proud of who I am now, after, than who I was when he was here, before.

#CaptureYourGrief - Day 2: Heart

It's no secret.  I'm no artist.  I have an analytical mind.  I'm a numbers girl.  Drawing has never been my strong suit.  My handwriting isn't the perfect woman's script that I wish it was.  However, I did want to participate in today's #CaptureYourGrief challenge to draw a heart for my babies in Heaven.  Preston, and his big brother or sister.  I find it hard to admit that one of my children had more of an impact on my life.  But it's the truth.  I made peace with losing Preston's big brother or sister because of the health issues I was having.  I can't foresee completely making peace with losing Preston, ever. 

Preston lives on in my heart.  When he died, a little piece of my heart went with him.  At the same time, I feel like he left a little piece of his with me - in my heart.  The little person he was has helped me through this journey.  Helped me grow.  Helped me appreciate life for the small things.  Helped me become a more compassionate person, taught me a new level of empathy. 

If I could do everything over again, knowing that the result would be the same, I would still want to do it all over again.  Preston changed my life.  Losing Preston, changed it even more.  It's a painful journey, but at the same time, I'm thankful for everything that I learn every day as I walk down this path.  And I couldn't do it, if it weren't for Preston.  Preston and his hundred smiles.  Preston and this endless giggles.  Preston and his want to always be "saying" something.

I received good news today - I no longer need to take my blood pressure medicine.  This is wonderful news, yet I found myself crying when I found out.  It's bittersweet that I don't need to take these pills anymore... It is adding a layer of finality to another connection I had with Preston.  I've been taking this medication since Preston was born.  I've been taking this medication because of a condition, preeclampsia, that I developed in the final stages of my pregnancy with Preston.  It stayed with me, even though having Preston was supposed to make it go away.  Now, I no longer need it.  I'll keep the following words from my friend close to my heart "Maybe only now are you meant to take a step forward.  He is nudging you...you can do it!  It is ok to be sad... But know you will always be connected to Preston, and he will always be with you no matter what".  And she's right.  It's the perfect reminder that he lives on in my heart as I share him with the world, and try to spread happiness in his honor.

Thank you little man.  Thank you for the nudge.  Thank you for listening to me whenever I need it.  You rarely answer, and that's ok.  Just know that, your mama loves you, will always love you and is proud of you for what you've taught me.  For how you've helped me learn to share this journey, my experience, and given me the strength to try and help others.  I promise to try to make you proud by surviving every day, by appreciating the life I've been given, and by being thankful for the fact that I alone was blessed to be your mama.  Love you forever baby.  Always, you remain in my heart.

#CaptureYourGrief - Day 1: Sunrise

Let me paint you a picture since the picture above does not begin to really capture the sunrise I watched this morning.  The high skies were painted with a royal blue.  Scattered across it were gray colored clouds and the bottoms of these clouds appeared to be flattened.  Orange, yellow and white appeared in that order from the horizon which the sun was about to pierce through.  Farther away from this location, the lower skies appeared green, and yellow.  You can sort of make it out if you look on the left side of the photograph.

As the train made it's way north, towards Denver, pink started entering the equation, replacing the green and the orange, kissing the clouds with its vibrant color, all the while softening the higher clouds by adding brightness to their bottom layer.  Purple also made it's appearance.  The sky looked radioactive.  Clouds of pink and purple, high skies of baby clue, lower skies of bright orange.  It is not 6:45, ten minutes from the actual sunrise.  I snapped a picture as I knew, I wouldn't be in an area where I could take pictures until I arrived at work.

Orange was returning, replacing the pink as the sun nears the horizon.  Then yellow.  Suddenly, everything starts to become brighter.  Birds fly into my view, making for an even more stunning sunrise.  The bottoms of the flattened clouds are now turning yellow as the sky turns bright white where the sun is beginning to come into view.  And now, the clouds turn white, as the rainbow colored sky disappears, as if it was a mirage.  Remaining in the sky, is the blue color we know it to be on a clear day.  Snow capped mountains can now be seen.  Everything now has color instead of being wrapped in the blue hues of the night sky.  Somehow, the rainbow of colors that kissed the sky just minutes ago  has spread to everything I'm blessed to see.

I spent the train ride admiring the sunrise.  Thinking about my son, who grew wings 6 and a half months ago.  Thinking about all the others angels I've come to learn about, and love.  I thought about all the other grieving parents out there, looking at the same sunrise I was and I felt peace.  I didn't feel alone with my pain.  I prayed that our angels were well, having a jolly time.

The first thing I did when I got to the office was to snap a couple pictures.  Since I didn't actually capture the sunrise it's self, but more the moments leading up to it, I felt it would be poetic to snap a few more to capture the moments following the sunrise.  Beautiful isn't it?  That bright spot right in the middle caught my attention.  I took a closer picture.

I couldn't for the life of me figure out what this brightness was.  If you look from left to right, it looks like a sleeping angel.  The wings on the far left, below the head of the sleeping angel, hands folded on his/her chest.  Is it just me that's seeing this? Do you see it?

I want to thank Carly Marie and her healing project "Capture Your Grief" (click for link) where every day in October, you are invited to share a picture based on the daily word and guidelines.  This can be something you share, or just for yourself.  You must use pictures you take, and not pictures you find on the web.  Today, the word/inspiration was "Sunrise".  I hope to participate every day if possible, or catch up if needed since I will be out of town.  Regardless, it's an inspiring way to deal with my grief, and to continue sharing my story and experiences.  October is Pregnancy, Infant and Child Loss Awareness month and I think this is an excellent, positive way of sharing the fact that there are a lot of bereaved parents among us.


 

Blond little boys named Preston

My husband called me at work last week.  He sounded sad which is very unlike him.  He had gone to lunch with his best friend at McDonald's, and something took place that shook him up.  A little blond headed boy of 2 or 3 ran into him.  Cute little thing.  Then the boy's father said "Preston, be careful where you're going".  Shock.  Twinge of pain.  The unexpected jab at his heart.  I can imagine how painful of an event that can be.  That very same day was the one where I was asked if I had any kids and "no" came out before I even knew it. 

The interesting thing is that, this isn't the first time something like this happens to my husband.  Maybe a month after losing our son, he went to the movies, and the same thing happened.  A little blond haired boy of 2 or 3 ran into him while he was at the soda fountain.  That little boy's name was Preston.

If you ask me, that's too many coincidences to me.  No other little boys have run into my husband.  Two in the span of 6 months?  Two little blond boys, like our little Preston.  Two little boys named Preston.  It just has to be Preston's way of saying "Hi!" to his Daddy.  I know Brett doesn't believe in signs as strongly as I do.  He doesn't get the bunny thing, or how I got there.  I feel like he's skeptical about the rainbows and the feathers.  And you know what, that's ok.  We all have our beliefs.  We all have our ways to dealing with grief.  We all have our techniques for healing, for accepting what has happened.  Part of mine has been through accepting the signs that are sent to me. 

I shared my belief with my husband, that this was our son's way of saying "hello" and "I'm okay".  When I told him this, it seemed to make the painful experience a little better.  I truly pray that these were really signs from Preston, and not just some cruel joke the universe is playing on my husband.  Grief is difficult enough on it's own.  Add that the loss is totally unexpected.  Add that the loss is one that should never happen; parents should not bury their babies.  Add that it's not an easy subject to talk about with anyone.  And then poke at it with reminders of what should be.  That's how he felt.  And I just hope that finding a different way of looking at it has helped him. 

Is there anything in your life that you could look at differently that might change your total outlook on it?  Turn something difficult into something bearable?  I encourage you to try :)

Floating above the clouds

Coming home, the clouds were just astonishing.  They were floating below the mountains, and somehow at the same time, above them.  Such a feeling of tranquility came over me.  The few pictures I was able to snap don't do justice to what I was so blessed to witness.  It literally felt and looked like I lived in a city above the clouds.  For a moment, it felt like I was driving towards Heaven.  For a split second, I felt like I might see my son.  I kind of hope that this is what Heaven looks like.  Enveloped in the softness and puffiness of white clouds. 

Today, nature left me thunderstruck by its pure beauty.  Today, I am reminded that peace exists all around me.  Today, I am thankful for the fortunate opportunity to get a glimpse at this rare phenomenon.  I long to play in the clouds with Preston.  This gives me hope that the possibility exists.  One can dream.  I think I will sleep well tonight.