Little chefs

I'm not Iron Chef but I can usually make a pretty decent meal.  I used to be a good baker too, but the altitude is something I'm still trying to adjust with when it comes to baking.  In Colorado, "tourtière" is nowhere to be found.  What is "tourtière" you ask?  Essentially, it's a meat pie that originated in Quebec and was traditionally served on Christmas Eve and New Year's Day.  French Canadians, certainly among other cultures, often begin celebrating Christmas on the Eve with a large meal at midnight or around there.  It was customary in my family.

I worked in the supermarket industry for a good 10 years, my first job being that of a cashier.  When I moved out on my own, the holiday season meant that I could buy a meat pie as we had them in the frozen section. Yum!  Search as I may, when I first moved here to Colorado, I could not find any.  Not in regular groceries stores.  Not in specialty markets.  I took it upon myself to search for a recipe on the web, found one and have altered it and made it my own over the years.  It's now a classic for Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Everyone loves it.  Every time I make one, it seems to be better than the last.  The picture above doesn't really do it justice, as the lighting was really poor.  I tried to enhance it with my new Adobe Photoshop that hubby gave me for my birthday last week, but that's the best I could do.  Basically, the meats are ground beef, ground chicken, ground pork and some bacon for good measure.  Add some onions and riced potatoes with some spices, put it in a pie and voila!

This is probably as creative as I've been in the kitchen, and I started off with the base of someone else's recipe.  I was watching Masterchef Junior this afternoon and was just astounded by what these 8 to 12 year olds can do!  I'd have to practice and ruin a lot of dishes before I could compete with the likes of those children!  It's really inspiring to see them go.  They have these ideas, and turn them into restaurant quality dishes and I'm not talking Burger King or Chili's here.  They have ambition and drive.  They are motivated and competitive.  They have dreams.  Should they continue to work and try as hard as they do, I have no doubt that they will succeed in fulfilling their culinary dreams.

As it is a competition show where one child wins $100,000 and a trophy (bragging rights!), every week, 2 kids have been eliminated.  Masterchef can be pretty brutal, as the hosts are often really blunt (and vulgar).  Masterchef Junior shows a softer side to them, and they always give positive feedback to the children.  The show usually ends with the eliminated contestants saying what they took away from the competition.  "I have more confidence in myself" was what one of them said this week.  I know another said something like "I made the top 10 and that says a lot about my abilities in the kitchen.  I won't give up my dream".

It made me think about how each month, at grief group therapy/counseling, whatever you want to call it, we do the same.  We each say what we took away from the session.  So far, I've been able to do that every month, which I think is important.  It goes without saying, that you don't get over the loss of a child.  You find ways to adapt and cope.  How I've been able to cope and heal, is in big part because of these groups of parents who attend and share their experiences, thoughts, fears.  I remember being stuck on the "why" we lost Preston.  On the "what is SIDS".  On the "what if it could have been prevented".  For starters, you can't prevent SIDS.  You can reduce the risks, which we did everything in our power that we possibly could knowing he was more at risk as a preemie.  During one session, one of the parents, Abby, talked about how they lost their son Ryder, and how they knew what caused his death.  Knowing didn't make the pain less.  Knowing didn't give peace of mind.  Knowing didn't take away the guilt.  That helped me a lot.

In that same fashion, I always try to end my blog entries with something positive, or something that I've taken away from the experience or thoughts I shared.  I hope that in reading my entries, you are able to ask yourself "what am I taking away from this".  Perhaps, try to ask yourself that question upon finishing my entry each time.  Feel free to share, I do love the feedback.  It's helpful to me, and I hope it is to you and others as well.


I hope that I'm often able end my blogs the way I describe above.  I really want this blog to continue helping others.  Today, hearing those kids with such enthusiasm, with such passion for life already.  Those children with great attitudes - it made me realize that I need more of that.  I have my talents and maybe they aren't in the kitchen (to the same extent as those kids anyway), but I shouldn't sell myself short on what I can do and what I do well.  I'm not 12 with my whole life ahead of me.  The biggest challenge in life hasn't been to cook the perfect egg.  It's been dealing with the loss of my son.  My sweet sweet Preston.  Obviously, there's no comparison but I think, if I can somehow allow a little innocence back into my life, maybe just maybe, that enthusiasm for life can resurface.

Allergy triggered memory

This creature causes my nose to run, my eyes to water and itch and make me sneeze.  It isn't always the case, but there are some days where it gets pretty hard to tolerate.  Last night was one of those nights.  I took a Benadryl and hey, I did sleep great!  My allergies were still present this morning though, so I took a Claritin instead, as it doesn't make me drowsy.  

As I was dealing with the symptoms that accompanies my allergies to cats, I was transported back to my pregnancy with Preston.  It was amazing.  While I was pregnant, I had no allergies.  No symptoms.  No nothing.  Crohn's was in total remission too.  I felt like Preston had magical powers, because I'd never read that pregnancy could cute allergies, even if only during pregnancy.  Now, when I have severe symptoms due to allergic reactions, I long to have Preston in my womb again.  Who wouldn't want such a little miracle? :)

I find it amazing how many random things can trigger memories of Preston, considering how short a time he was with us.  There are definitely some things I would prefer to avoid thinking about, but there's a lot of good.  Consider Calex herself.  The cats didn't seem to care for Preston much.  We paid a lot less attention to them, and Preston would make noises and his movements were rapid, sharp and unpredictable.  They stayed away from him for the most part.  However, they were starting to warm up to him.  I was taking a video of Preston once, and Calex decided to rub her body against his bouncer.  To a cat that can mean "that's mine" or "I love you".  I rather like to think they were starting to warm up to him, and get used to the changes in our lives.

I'll never really know whether they would have ended up warming up to him.  I was often scared that they might scratch him, or jump on him, but they never did.  I think that counts for something.  I look forward to the next random thought about Preston, the next memory that I didn't will into my mind, but rather the next one that takes me by surprise.

Thanksgiving and memories

This time last year, I was standing in the parking lot at Target, waiting for them to open the doors for the Black Friday sales.  My intentions weren't to go shopping on Black Friday.  I had a newborn at home.  But he weighed just over 4 pounds, and he was so little that we couldn't have him sleep in his crib.  So I ventured off to Target to buy a bassinet.  It was cold, and there were so many people.  The line looped around the parking lot.  I found the perfect bassinet and somehow was able to have a clerk go check in the back if there were some, as there weren't any on the store floor.  It took awhile, as I'm sure the clerk was interrupted several times by mobs of customers.  I was lucky; there was one left in stock!  The clerk brought it to the customer service desk as I went to look for a couple more items, since I didn't have a cart.  They were all taken.  I remember buying at least another thing, not sure what.

The clerk at customer service was so nice and let me check out there, instead of making me head to the check out line where hundreds of people were standing.  I count my stars that he allowed me that courtesy.  An extra hour or two with my son, which to most people doesn't seem like a lot but to me, it's equivalent to years since I only got 16 weeks with him.

Brett set up the bassinet, and Preston slept in our room for a good 2 months.  In the middle of the night, I'd feed him in the rocking chair that is still in his nursery.  After he'd eaten, and burped, I would rock him, or read to him, or sing to him.  I'd play lullabies for him, they would play from his swing as I rocked him in my arms.  There were nights, where he'd be asleep but as soon as I put him down in his bassinet, he would wake up and cry.  I found this one lullaby on YouTube, and would play it from my tablet, as I rocked the bassinet until he would fall asleep.  I did that for about 3 weeks, I think.

Today is Thanksgiving.  A day to be with family and celebrate all that we are thankful for.  I have a lot to be thankful for.  I know it.  I've written about it countless times.  It doesn't make it easier though.  Thanksgiving will forever be a monumental milestone for Preston - he came home.  Although his stay in the NICU was short, it was still terrifying.  The doctors and nurses were wonderful and their words comforted us - "Preston is in the NICU for the best of reasons; He's just really small, and needs to get a little stronger so that he cane control his own temperature and have enough energy to eat."  He did just that.  Everyone was pulling for him, and a Thanksgiving blessing - he came home that day.  We had a small feast at our house, as Brett's parents, his sister Erin and fiance Jason had come over with delicious food.

Today, I'm once again thankful for the 16 weeks I had with my son.  I don't understand why he had to go.  I never will.  I don't know that I'll ever really get fully past that.  I know he's in good hands, though I feel he'd be in better hands with me.  Is that wrong to say?  I am not trying to defy God, or say that I don't trust Him.  I do, I'm just still oh so hurt by the loss of my precious baby.  I'm still raging mad inside that Preston had to be one of the precious babies that didn't get to see his first birthday.  I'm still grieving.  I will be forever.  Ironically, I find comfort in that very notion - I will grieve forever, because that is how deep the love I felt for him, how deep the love I still feel for him.

I'm thankful for memories, even when they make me sad.  They are good memories.  Happy memories, and they are only made hard, because Preston is no longer here.  They are made difficult, because on such a family day, his presence is missed.  Holidays to me are family time, and something just feels off without him, even if we only had him for one Thanksgiving, one Christmas and one New Year.  One day at a time.  One holiday at a time.  One moment at a time.  You will make it through.  I'm still standing.

Petey the bunny

I received this bunny today around lunchtime from my co-worker, my friend Kay.  Kay has a big heart and has a really sweet soul.  I've known Kay for almost 6 years now, and she's always in a good mood.  She saw this bunny in a store and just had to buy it because it made her think of me.  Thank you Kay, you brought tears to my eyes today.

I've been struggling lately with the lessened amount of signs I'm seeing.  Am I looking for them less?  Maybe part of me knows seeing rainbows and bunnies in the winter will be extremely rare?  Is it possible that I'm just getting less signs because I don't need them as much?  These questions have been swirling around in my head for a couple months now.  I think it's probably a combination of it all.  It all saddens me though.  I don't want to look for less signs.  I don't want to need less signs.  I'd love to have signs every day.

I don't know how Heaven works, what angels can and can't do.  I can only speculate.  In my mind, a visit from an angel is something really special.  For it to be special, it can't be something that occurs every time you want it to.  For it to be meaningful, it has to be something you aren't expecting.  If you're lucky, sometimes you'll get a sign when you ask for it, but I think those may be reserved for times when you really need them.  I think they may be reserved to help you keep your faith, when it's at an incredibly low point.

I'm not better than I was 8 months ago.  I have adapted to this new, different life I'm living.  This acclimatization makes it easier to cope with the emptiness Preston left behind.  I'm able to function, and live to the best of my ability.  For these reasons, I may not need as many signs.  I wish it weren't true, but at the same time, I don't want to go back to a place where the pain is too hard to live with.  That pain resurfaces on occasion.  It always will find a way to sneak into my life.

In the meantime, this new little friend, has earned a stay on my desk at work.  For every day that I don't get a sign from Preston, I have a bunny to say hello to.  I'll have a subtle reminder of my son with me during my work week.  It will bring a smile to my face and remind me that Preston wants me to smile, and be happy.  I will comfort me, in knowing how much my friends care for me.

My friend Wanda asked me what I would name the bunny.  I didn't know what it would be until I started writing this post and Petey the bunny just flowed from my fingers.  I guess I had Petey on the mind.  A fellow angel mom lost her son Petey at 20 weeks of pregnancy on March 27th, 2014.  That was 8 months ago today.  Angel mama ChickinNH is now pregnant (yay!), and has reached the milestone in her pregnancy where she is the exact number of weeks and days into this new pregnancy than she was when she lost Petey.  Milestones are hard.  I keep thinking about tomorrow.  Thanksgiving.  Last year, Preston coming home was our Thanksgiving miracle.  This year, he's already gone when he should be waddling around as a one year old.  Not the way it was supposed to be for Preston.  Not the way it was supposed to be for Petey.

Perhaps it's silly, but I hope that Petey the bunny can somehow help memorialize the real Petey, ChickinNH's son.  All the while he makes me smile as a reminder of Preston, Petey the bunny will remind me of Petey.  Live on little angels.  In our hearts, and in everything around us.

Another year older

I thought it fitting to use a picture from my 3rd birthday.  30 years ago, I received Cheer bear.  Last year, 6 days before my birthday, I met the happiest baby there ever was.  On my birthday, 6 days later, a year ago toady, Preston was in the NICU.  I had a prolonged stay in the hospital due to the pre-eclampsia and needed a lot of observation as my blood pressure kept spiking.  It took several days for sure for it to stabilize with medication, since having Preston did not rectify the situation, as it should have.  So, on November 25th, they kept me for an extra day, just to make sure.  Part of me thinks that out of the kindness of her heart, my doctor wanted me to stay with my son on my birthday.  I'm so thankful for that.  Even more than I was then.  I didn't know back then, that Preston would only be with us for 16 weeks.  There were no indications that Preston had any kind of ailment.  That's what SIDS is though right? No warnings.  It just happens without a warning.  It blindsides you, even if there's always a slight fear of it when you are a new parent.

No signs from Preston today though I heard another 2 Leona Lewis songs.  What's up with that?  I really wish I would have gotten a huge sign today.  I had a nice day.  A busy day at work, just the way I like it.  A nice dinner with Brett, Charles, Kate and Greyson (Preston's best friend).  Delicious burgers made by my husband.  Beautiful flowers from my friends, handed to me by their 1 year old son.  One of the cutest things I've ever seen!  Yummy birthday sundaes from Dairy Queen.  And to help with my blog, Brett got me Adobe Photoshop! Can't wait to play with that and have wonderful pictures to share :)

Do wishes really come true if you don't share them after blowing your candles? Maybe I'm disillusioned by what's happened to me this past year with the loss of my son, but I don't know that it makes a difference whether you share your wish, or not.  I didn't blow out any candles, and I rather like that I didn't.  I didn't make a wish, but I'll make one now: My wish for this year, is to continue on this healing path, all the while, hoping that Preston finds his way into more and more hearts.  My precious son, I feel has so much to teach me still, even if I should be the one teaching him.  You may not love him the way that I do, but I hope you open your heart, let him in, and just feel the happiness that he is.

Excerpt from Leona Lewis' "Run"

(...) 

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you, dear

Louder, louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice (...)

Snowflakes gone astray

I had a subject all aligned for tonight's blog entry.  Actually, I had two.  It all changed when I stepped off the train on my way home from work.  I stepped off, took a few steps, and then was showered by snowflakes.  10 seconds later, they were all gone.  It's interesting because when it happened, I felt transported to a different place.  It was as quick as the blink of an eye, but for that brief moment, I felt surrounded by happiness and love.  Preston must have been there.  Those stranded snowflakes were his way of saying hello.

The train ride preceding this serendipitous event had been a nice one.  I heard several songs on Pandora which reminded of my son.  That hadn't happened in a while - several songs in a row that is.  What strikes me most is how often I hear Leona Lewis songs.  Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike her music or anything, but I don't have any of her songs on my iPod.  Yet, I hear "Happy", "Bleeding Love" and "Better in Time" all the time.  Is there a message there?  If you've read most of my blogs, you probably know that I don't throw the word happy around like I used to.  Since losing Preston though, that song has just reminded me of him every single time I heard it.  Of course, there are days where I just can't listen to it, but lately, it's gotten easier.

I heard two of these songs today.  It felt really nice because I felt like I was getting some a sign from my little boy.  They've been fewer and fewer.  It's a little scary to think about.  I don't want them to decrease or go away, but I don't really have a say in it.  Those songs today though, and the mysterious 10 seconds of snow falling on my nose.  It gave me hope, that perhaps those signs won't ever go away, as long as I'm open to seeing them.

I didn't get my wish of angel dust last night.  If I had dreams, I don't remember them.  I'm rather used to it.  However, I slept better than I had in a week.  Perhaps I did get a sprinkle of angel dust after all.  To my sweet Preston, thank you for the little visit, even if I could have easily missed it with the blink of an eye.  I hope you think of me as often as I think of you.

Dust

A storm rolled in this afternoon.  At least, it appeared like a really big snow storm.  Big snow flakes blowing to the south.  When all was said and done though, all that had fallen was a dust of snow as you can attest from the picture above.  As the snow was blowing by our living room window, I was reminded of the storm we got on Mother's Day.  It looked exactly like it did on that day.  It felt exactly the same too, peaceful.

Since Preston's passing, I've often found myself having conflicting thoughts about certain things.  Dust, is one of them.  A dusting of snow to me equates to serenity.  It is pure.  Seeing the snow fall, and letting out a big sigh can be so releasing.  However, when I think of dust, I also am reminded of the dust that is collecting in my sweet P's nursery.  On some of his things that are still in the kitchen, or our bedroom.  Dust shouldn't be collecting on his crib and mattress.  It should be being used every day.  Dust shouldn't be settling on his swing, rocking chair and bouncer.  I don't have to step into his room to know that it is.  I should probably go in there and do a good dusting.  One day, I'm sure.  All I know is that it won't be today, or tomorrow.  Probably not this year.  I've been told by other parents that there is no set time to do anything when you are grieving.  There's no schedule that says "it's been 6 months, you need to pack up the nursery".  Some parents were able to do it a year later.  Some almost 2 years later.  I don't know when that day will be for me.  Or for Brett.  Time will tell, and I try not to dwell on it.

I try, but sometimes I can't help but think about his nursery.  This room where he slept.  Where I rocked him, fed him his bottle and read to him.  This room that was supposed to one day be filled with little race cars, baseball mitts and legos.  It's very difficult to get passed the fact that he'll never know what those things are.  I think that actually, it's not something you really get passed.  It's just something you get used to and most days, you are at peace with it.  Other days, you struggle with that thought, or similar thoughts.  Some days you cry, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.  Dust can be a thought that brings me peace, but it can also cause a lot of anguish.  This happens with a lot of different things.

Do you think angels come visit at night? Perhaps they sprinkle happy dream dust on our sleepy heads?  Probably not, but I like that thought, and maybe I will think of that as I try to fall asleep tonight.  Sprinkle me with happy dreams, ones that I'd be elated to remember tomorrow morning.