Are you better yet?

Are you better yet?  Are you back to normal?  These questions arise from time to time, and there's a simple answer. No.  I'm not better, I'm never going to be back to normal.  I have a new normal, and while I'm learning to deal with the loss of my son, I can't fathom ever being "better".

My life was pretty much perfect before Preston stopped breathing during his afternoon nap on March 13th.  I was healthy.  I had the most beautiful baby boy and most loving husband in the world.  I had the perfect work-home life balance.  The only thing that would have made it "better", would have been to eventually add to our family.  Should we be blessed with other children in the future, it won't necessarily be better.  It'll be good, but it'll be different.  Better would be having Preston still be with us.

It's interesting, because that means that I'm no longer the same person.  The old Cat died with Preston, and now there is a new Cat.  Not to say that this new Cat is not good, but she's very different.  I used to care a lot about what other people thought of me.  I wanted to be liked.  I wanted to fit in, but often didn't.  I wanted to be accepted.  While I had started caring a lot less about these things after my health issues in 2012, I truly no longer care.  If you like me, you like me.  If you don't, your loss.  I'm done caring about what others think of me.  Maybe you find me annoying.  Maybe you find me too goody, goody.  Oh well.  Life's too short for me to waste sleep over what others think of me.  Hopefully this doesn't come off the wrong way.  I will care what you think of me if I somehow mistreat you, because that wouldn't be my intention.  Hopefully you get my drift.  I just don't need negativity in my life if I can help it. :) 

In essence, I haven't completely changed.  I'm a good person, with a good heart.  I'm a hard worker, and I like things done a certain way.  However, it's now much harder for me to find joy without a reason.  I have less energy, less spunk.  Motivation is even harder to come by.  I no longer like to plan things in advance, perhaps by fear of having my dreams shattered.  I rarely daydream anymore.  I look forward to things, but with much less enthusiasm. 

With a reason, I can smile.  I can laugh.  I can dream.  I can have a good time.  Without it though, it's easy to let reality sink in.  Reality is, we've been dealt a rough hand, and it's difficult to find a new reality.  Five months out, we have a new routine, but it's a painful one to accept.  It's a hard one to want to follow.  The reminders are everywhere.  Formula in the pantry.  Sonogram pictures on the fridge.  Baby bullet food processor in the kitchen cabinet.  Baby book on the side table in the living room.  Closed nursery door.  Urn, blankets, onesie on the bedroom dresser.  Stroller in the garage.  Empty car-seat holder in the car.  Why not put those things away where they can't trigger sadness?  Some of his things need to stay where they are.  He was part of our lives, and he continues to be in memory.  While the reminders can trigger sadness or tears, I'm thankful that we can have these reminders, because it's proof of how much he changed our lives.

So perhaps I'm a different person now because of this tremendous loss, but I'm also a different person because of my sweet P.  He made me a better person.  He made me a more compassionate person, more empathic too.  He opened my eyes to how beautiful things can be, things that are right in our face but that we're too busy to notice.  He made me want to help out others.  He made me want to spread the happiness he created.

While I feel fulfilled when I receive feedback about being inspiring or motivating, my ultimate goal is simply to share my journey in the hopes of helping others.  I don't need recognition (even if it is nice to receive).  I just hope that the short life we gave our son, can somehow change the world... and I know, that sounds truly impossible.  But, if I can make at least one person smile every day, I feel like Preston is leaving a bigger and bigger mark every day.

Was that you?

Preston, was that you, my sweet little boy, when I looked down to write something at work a few weeks ago when I saw a bright light for a second by my fingers?  It was only for a moment but my first instinct was to think of you.

Was that you, my sweet P, this morning, when I was backing out of the drive-way and saw a bunny standing vigil on the right side of the house, and as I turned to the other side to ensure the coast was clear, there was another bunny standing vigil on the left side of the house?

Was that you, my ray of sunshine, when I caught a glimpse of a really bright light through the patio door, just a few hours ago, as the storm was moving away from our house?

Was that you, my little boy, on Mother's Day, when we got one of the biggest snow storms of the year?  I really wanted to stay home that day and didn't want to go anywhere.  Home is where I feel closest to you.

Was that you, my sweetie pie, who offered me rainbows on days when I seemed to need it most?

Was that you, my lovey dovey, who sent me a meaningful song on Pandora, right before Mother's Day (Song For Mama).  And other days, was that you, when several songs in a row played one after the other, reminding me of you?  Whether because I sang them to you, or because when I would hear them they would make me think of you?

Was that you, my happy baby, who sent my aunt a dream telling her my grand-mere was watching over you?   And was that you, who was in my friend's dream, when she never got the pleasure of meeting you?

Was that you, when we received a gift from our insurance company for referring someone else to them, who sent a dime on the back of their business card?  Finding dimes are supposed to be a sign from a passed loved one.

Is it you, Preston, who somehow lifts me up enough to keep going, even when it feels like part of me is forever gone?  Is it you, who gives me a reason to smile every day, when it would be totally understandable if I never wanted to smile again?  Is it you, who gives me this inspiration to want to help others, by sharing my true feelings, thoughts, emotions?  Is it you, who gives me motivation to be a better person, work hard and live life to the fullest?  Is it you, who has brought a lot of people closer to me, and made me feel really loved and cared about?

I wish I truly knew the answer to all those questions.  I wish I could ask you, ask God, and have you or Him answer me back.  But, that's not how faith works and that makes it incredibly difficult.

Since I did instantly think of you when all those things happened, deep inside, I do believe it was you.  Maybe I only think that way because it gives me a reason to continue to feel close to you.  Maybe I believe it because it gives me a reason to want to see tomorrow and hope that I get a sign from you.  Maybe, even if I'm not entirely sure of my faith, I have more faith than I realize.

Whatever the truth is, my exceptionally special little one, you changed my life forever.  When you entered it and when you left it.  You made me a better person.  You made me more caring, more understanding, and somehow more patient.  You made me more brave and strong.  You made me understand empathy to a whole new level.  You made me appreciate everything around me so much more.  You made me a mama, something no one will ever be able to take that away from me.