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 - Dark + Light

As you can imagine, losing a child comes with a lot of darkness.  Interminable sadness.  Heavy constant guilt.  Persistent denial.  Relentless anger.  It can make sinking into a deep depression extremely simple.

It's a dangerous path that I have not allowed myself to travel too deeply.  Surely I have had terrible days.  There are gaps of time which are forever gone from my memory.  The days and months following Preston's death.  In that time span, I have some very vivid, too vivid memories.  The rest though is blank.  How I coped?  How I felt?  Numb is perhaps the best way to explain it?

Still, I do know that I tried everything to not allow myself to get to a place that was too dark.  I made an effort to smile or laugh daily, because that is what Preston would want.  I've promised myself to allow myself to feel the darkness when it creeps in.  It sometimes feels good to be sad.  To cry.  To be angry.  I'd go as far as to say that it is necessary to let the dark in.

Much like with an eclipse, after the darkness, the light returns.  With every day that ends with the sun setting, each new day begins with the sun rising, even when we can't see it due to cloud cover.   "Never fear shadows.  They simply mean there's a light shining somewhere nearby".  I wrote a post based on this quote back in February.  It's linked in the event you are interested.

The point is, grief can also bring about light.  It is not easy to come by and requires willpower.  I've been able to embrace the light by trying my best to honor Preston's memory.  The memory of this happy little being.  My promise to him has been to try and smile every day.  If I can accomplish that, then I feel like I'm fulfilling my oath.  Some days the smiles are few.  And that's okay.

What's worked for me is to basically let the darkness in when it needs to, but to remember that the light is always around the corner.  You just basically have to be open to let it in.

Positively February: Day 21

"Never fear shadows.  They simply mean there's a light shining somewhere nearby."

I've often said, grief walk hand in hand with guilt.  It follows you like a shadow.  You wonder what you could have done differently to prevent your loss.  You ponder if you made the right decisions.  You evaluate every single action.  You torture yourself with questions you probably will never have answers to.

This shadow, I wish it would leave my side.  I wish it would exit my mind.  Yet, it does not.  Or usually not for extended periods of time.

Grief brings sadness.  Again this sadness is always chasing you like your shadow does, as you try to run away from it.  It is ready to creep up on you without a moment's notice.  We were watching a show today, and one of the character's mom passed away in her sleep.  That sent me for a loop.  That's what happen to Preston.  He took a nap and never woke up.  At least, I hope that's what happened since we don't really know for sure since the nanny had left him alone.  I would imagine, at least, this is a peaceful way to go.

Grief brings a lot of emotions and thoughts that will try to pull you into darkness.  These strong, often negative emotions lurk in the shadows ready to pounce on you when you are vulnerable, or more vulnerable.  I imagine, that these dark feelings and ideas will always be somewhere nearby.

Despite the shadows though, we always have the power to let the light in.  We can allow positivity into our lives and concentrate on the good memories, however few they may be.  We can remind ourselves that while the guilt is there, deep inside, we know we did EVERYTHING we could.  And the sadness?  Well the sadness, it exists because the love was so great.  The love will always be there.  Your child lives in your heart forever.  And if that's not a symbol of a light shining somewhere nearby, I don't know what is.

#CaptureYourGrief - Day 14: Dark/Light

On day 14, Carly Marie wants us "acknowledge the dark and the light sides of grief".  I think that's a great way to describe grief - dark and light.  I often refer to it as a roller coaster ride.  The high, light notes where you feel at peace.  Where you are able to smile, find happiness, find the gratitude in life.  The low, dark moments, where you feel constant anger, pain and guilt.

Have there been moments where everything falls apart?  They are happening less, but they happen.  Preston's room is a place where I always seem to fall apart.  Looking at his crib, where his imprint remains.  Looking at all his things jumbled into a small room, where you can no longer walk through easily.  A room that used to be filled with joy, feedings, laughter and story time.  A room where we bonded.  And now, the door remains closed, as if it hides dirty secrets.  Yet, it remaining open, is too difficult to bear.  One day, will a little brother or sister claim this room as their own?  Will we be able to transform it into a new room?  Will we keep part of the nursery the same or will we revamp it all together?  One day, we will have to answer that question.  Until then, the room will remain a difficult space.  A dark place even though I know deep inside, that it is still filled with happiness.  It's just damped by the sadness of the events of March 13th.

Moments of light?  On our recent vacation, we drove from Albany, NY to Cooperstown, NY through a beautiful scenic route.  Trees of orange, red, yellow, brown and green.  Farm after farm.  Small towns here and there.  And then there was this little road that took us into a forest.  The light was dampened by the leaves above us, but sparkled onto the lake to our left.  What feeling of peace.  It was breathtaking.  And then, we were in the village of Cooperstown.  It beamed of history.  Old brick buildings.  Quiet streets, with little shops.  We visited the Baseball Hall of Fame of course.  It would have been nice to have Preston with us, and I think for a little bit, our minds and heart may have gotten a rest... like we were in an alternate reality.  Reminiscing of our road trip last year when I was pregnant with Preston.  And while I feel some guilt for not thinking about Preston every minute of every day, I know he knows I have to live my life.  I have to be able to have "normal" moments, enjoy my life.  And I think that this vacation showed me that I can have a happy life with happy moments.  I enjoyed time with family.  I enjoyed the drive with my husband.  I enjoyed the visit with friends.  I enjoyed just walking around Manhattan with Brett.  I thought of Preston every day, but I didn't let the sadness of losing him plague every moment of our vacation.  I will forever think of Preston every day.  I will forever remember what his short life brought to me.  I will always be thankful that God blessed me with such a precious baby boy.  He's opened my eyes to all the beauty that is around us.  He's taught me that happiness lives all around me - we just have to open our eyes and heart to it.

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.