Positively February: Day 7

"Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings into Heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy." - Eskimo Proverb

In the days and weeks following the loss of Preston, I had a lot of trouble sleeping.  My body was still used to the routine of feeding my son around 10:30-11:00 before putting him down for the night.  I'd just recently returned to work, and really I had this routine down.  I didn't sleep for hours on end, but I didn't feel fatigue all too much.  I was used to sleeping from 11:30 or 12:00 until 5:00.  With that routine being gone, my body didn't really understand trying to go to bed at 10:00.  Nor did my mind.  My mind kept me up for hours on end.  Not knowing what to do, how to grieve, how to do anything really, I tried to read a lot.  Stories of people in my shoes.  Quotes about losing a baby and how to cope.

I remember reading this quote.  Actually, I read probably hundreds of quotes, as tears streamed down my cheeks until there were just no more and the exhaustion took over me and I could finally sleep for maybe 2 or 3 hours.  This quote stayed with me though.  It made looking at the night sky, something that symbolized hope.  Star gazing is something I've always enjoyed.  When we'd go to our fishing cottage, we'd sometimes go out late at night and admire how many stars we could see.  How bright they were!  They seemed so close.  Being 7 hours North of Montreal, they probably were a lot closer.  I get that same sensation here in Colorado.  The stars are so much brighter.  They seem bigger.

I love this Eskimo proverb because it's so simple, and it's something fun to believe in.  Especially now that Preston has his own star!  On his birthday, and #SpreadHappinessForPreston day, my friend and co-worker Lisa gave me a certificate of a star she purchased and had named: Preston William Haugen.  I was so moved by this unique gesture.  I cried.  Happy tears they were.  This star, the love behind it's purchase, makes it easy to look up at the night sky and think of Preston and smile as his love shines down on me.  Much like Preston, Lisa's aunt is in Heaven.  I'm sure they are fast friends, and I love to think that this loving woman is keeping an eye on my son.  And as Lisa said: "They are both now not only our guardian angels, but our shining stars - together".  I agree whole-heartingly.

And if you know me, this probably doesn't surprise you, I looked into this constellation of Giraffe.  It's latin name is actually Camelopardalis, which means camel and leopard.  It was named so because it the constellation appears to have a long neck (like a camel and giraffe) and has spots all over (like a leopard and again giraffe).  I love that it's connected to the leopard as this big cat, is one of the wildcats featured on Big Cat Diary which Brett would watch every morning as he gave Preston his first feeding of the day.  After eating while staring at his favorite colorful painting, Preston would watch the moving shapes of the cats on the television as he sat there digesting, and burping.  He seemed to like it and think the music and narration was calming.

I hope that I can one day see this constellation.  It's to the right of Ursa Major, so it's highly possible.  And if I ever do, I pray that it truly is an opening into Heaven, where maybe, just maybe, I can get a glimpse of Preston shining down on me.

What do you think about when you look up at the night sky?

Positively February: Day 6

"Healing through giref is not about learning to STOP missing you.  It's about learning to live my life WHILE missing you."

These are wise words.  Unfortunately, many grieving parents hear words that would be better left unsaid: "Aren't you over it yet?", "At least he/she was only a few months old, it would have been worse if he/she was older", "You can have other kids", "You will move on, it just takes a bit of time".  I'm sure the intention behind these atrocities are nothing but good, but such statements as these are  terribly hurtful.  Children aren't interchangeable.  A child cannot replace another.  Age doesn't matter, once you are pregnant and long and love your baby, it's traumatic to live through a loss.  You don't move on, or get over it.  Ever.

The wise words above though, they speak the truth.  There is not a day that goes by where I don't miss Preston, think of Preston, and wonder what could have been.  As the time goes tick tock though, I am learning to live my life without him, while missing him.  Missing Preston is part of me now.  It will not go away, and that's perfectly okay.  I can smile and laugh.  I can have fun and relax.  This doesn't mean I'm not grieving.  This doesn't equate to having "moved on" or "being over it".  There's no "at least" in grief.  There's no "being over it" and there is no "moving on".  There is moving forward.  There is healing.

You may be the victim of some harsh words.  I hope with all my heart that I'm right and that if it does happen, the intention wasn't to be hurtful.  People just don't know what to say.  They think they are being helpful, not hurtful.  Losing your child isn't something you ever imagine, or should imagine.  And even if I were in a situation where I would have to say something to someone who lost a baby, I don't think I'd know what to say, and I may mistakenly utter a "at least".

If you have such words said to you, remember this quote.  You don't have to move on because society says you have to.  You don't have to get over it and return to your "old" self.  You will heal, but you will miss your baby forever.  And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. <3

Positively February: Day 5

"The soul always knows what to do to heal itself.  The challenge is to silence the mind." - Caroline Myss

I had to look up who Caroline Myss is, unlike Helen Keller who didn't need an introduction.  Caroline  Myss is an american best-selling author who describes herself as a "medical intuitive" and "a mystic".  This is what I found on Wikipedia anyway.  Regardless of what she calls herself, I really like this quote.

"The soul always know what to do to heal itself."  I suppose that's true.  You often become weak when deeply wounded.  You become tired and you sleep a lot more.  Your thoughts become cloudy as the body attempts to protect the mind, the heart.  You look for answers.  You are moved by the simple gestures, and sometimes simply the whisper of the wind.  You become more in tune with your emotions.  The pettiness around you no longer matters.

At least, that's how it worked for me.  As every individual is different, every soul is distinct in it's own very way.  Hopefully suggestions don't hurt though, and you can attempt a few to see how it feeds your soul.  How it possibly heals your being.

• On your day off, just lay in bed and listen to the sounds of nature early in the morning.  The chirps of the birds.  The soft wind.  The leaves swaying in the trees.
• Take a nature walk.  It doesn't have to be in a field, or forest.  It can be in a simple little park.  Admire the beauty that radiates from all that is living.  And I know, living things, can be a tough concept to grasp.
• Lay in the grass and notice all that is around you.  The vast sky.  The grass beneath you.
• Slow down
• Think about good times.  Cherish those moments.

Those are just a few things to try.

"The challenge is to silence the mind."  Ain't that the truth!  I struggle with my mind a lot.  It keeps trying to push me in directions I don't want to go.  It keeps challenging my faith.  Over and over.  And again.  It keeps wanting answers.  It attempts to bring out the anger that is buried slightly below the surface.  It attacks my healing journey and can make it collapse like a house of cards.

I was blindsided today.  I was looking for something that I knew was among the sympathy cards we received after Preston passed.  I'd forgotten how voluminous this mountain of cards was.  Among them, also a handful of cards celebrating Preston's arrival.  The sheer number of cards, coupled with the reminder of what true happiness felt like.  It was enough to make my head spin.  Moments later, it was hubby who was thrown into a downward spiral, as he needed to get Preston's social security card from his nursery for our tax return.  Because he had to declare Preston as deceased.  The reminders never end do they?

Thankfully we have each other.  We're there when the other struggles.  We often ride this roller coaster ride together though we aren't always in the same car.  And I have a huge support system which includes all my readers.  And everyone, no matter what you are going through - you are not alone.  Remember that when your mind goes to dark places.  

Perhaps what I'm trying to say by all this, as my husband didn't quite understand why this quote was positive - your brain will continue to think about the darkness, the emptiness and the sadness.  The key is to steer it into another direction.  Don't take the "silence the mind" too literally  but rather concentrate on the positives.  For me, as difficult as it is - I concentrate on the 16 weeks I had with Preston.  For baby H, who I only carried for 9 weeks, I cherish those 9 weeks.  How they made me feel.  How amazing seeing the sonogram for the first time felt.  And to a certain extent, I reflect on how the loss made me feel.  The deep emptiness and pain - it showed me a whole new side of love.  And nobody, no thought, no nothing, will ever, ever take that away from me.  My children changed me for the better and that's the most positive thing that could have ever happened to me.

Positively February: Day 4

"A few nice words can help a person a lot more thank you think"

Again, I do not know the author of these words.  It something I stumbled upon and I thought it was so simple, yet so true.

As I'm sure you've heard, words can sting you like a bee.  They can be mean and hurtful.  But, the silver lining is that they can be so nice to hear when the intention behind them is of that of kindness.

I can't describe the overwhelming feeling that came over me the several times I received random messages from strangers who had seen a picture of my son on baby loss forums, and felt compelled to tell me how cute he was.  Or how they had just seen a rainbow and it made them think of my son.  My son who they never met.  I can't begin to tell you how much it meant to me.  How much it made me smile.

It gave me joy.  It made me smile.  It made me feel like the mom of a really special little guy.  It made me feel like my son was making a difference, and really, nothing makes me more proud.

Recently, I've had several people tell me I look great.  This feels really nice since it's been very difficult to lose weight.  It's something I've been struggling with for years because of medications like Prednisone, a pregnancy, and the lack of interest because of the loss of my son.  The fact that people take time out of their day to pay me a compliment, gives me a lot of motivation to keep doing what I'm doing.  The first 5 pounds came off easy.  The next 10 have been arduous and it's a lot of work to keep them off.  I still struggle with it, and I miss eating a lot of foods.  I still have an occasional burger, and of course pizza on the 19th, but I miss bread.  I hardly have any now.

Kind words can be uplifting.  We all have struggles, or bad days.  So, I really try to follow the mantra that is : "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all".  It's not worth to add to someone's bad day.  And what's better, saying something nice, might go a really, really long way, and you probably don't even realize it.

What the last nice thing you said to someone, just because?

Positively February: Day 3

"Healing takes time and you are doing the best you can.  And that is perfect."

I'm unsure of the author of this quote, but this is something I need to be reminded of often.  Maybe less now, but for months and months I struggled with the fact that I'd have a really good day... and the following day I'd feel like I was hitting rock bottom.

Healing is a process that I will live with forever - with regards to my physical and mental health.  With my physical health, having Crohn's means that I will inevitably one day have another flare-up.  I will need extra medications to bring down the inflammation in my intestines and scar tissue will build up.  Hopefully, the flare-ups happen few and far between which would mean a lower chance of repeated bowel resection surgeries.

With my mental health, I don't foresee there being a day where I don't think about my son.  Thinking about my son doesn't always make me sad, but it happens.  I miss him every day, but I know that it's unhealthy physically and mentally for me to immerse myself into sadness all the time.  So I try the best I can not to.  It happens that I fail completely.  It happens that I let the anger get the best of me.  I do let the guilt eat at my soul, try as I may not to.  There are days where all I want to do is scream, and shout and kick whatever is in the way.

It's all in futility though.  Nothing will bring back Preston.  All I can do is embrace this path of healing, and live a life that honors the memory of my son.  My son has given me so much, and part of it is this journey down the path of healing.  It's opened my eyes to so much.

So I welcome the healing, and the bad days.  The days of regression and of deep grief.  All I can do, is take it a step at a time.  And that is, just as quoted, perfect.

Positively February: Day 2

"What we have once enjoyed deeply we can never lose.  All that we love deeply becomes a part of us." - Helen Keller

I found this quote not long after we lost Preston.  It brought me a lot of comfort and with time, I've come to truly embrace it because I find it to be very true.  Preston lives in my heart and he is forever a part of me.

Love works in mysterious ways.  It blindsides us.  It overwhelms us.  It makes us whole.

We suffer heartbreaks.  They can bring us to our knees.  They can take the breath out of our lungs.  A heartbreak can shatter our whole world.  Trust me, heartbreaks do exist and not just in love songs.

But the thing is, Helen Keller is right.  Relationships have a way of changing you, of shaping who you are as a person.  At least, this holds true for people you love and respect.  You want to be the best you can be for them.  You learn from them, and strive to be like them.

I probably sounds weird that I strive to be like a 16 week old baby, my son.  Yes, a part of me does strive to be more like him.  I strive to find that pure happiness that my son had.  I strive to not let things upset me so easily.  Not much made him cranky or upset.  I strive to continue learning, like he did every day.  I strive to not worry what others may think, he sure didn't.  I strive to share that happiness that resonated from him because I really FEEL like that is something he would want me to do.

So read Helen Keller's words.  Read them several times.  Let them sink in.  Know that no matter when you may have lost your baby, he or she is with you always.  Simply because, our babies, are forever a part of us and they will live on in our hearts forever.

Positively February: Day 1

Well February is here!  I've looked at so many positive sayings and thoughts since losing Preston, and so many of them touched me and helped me heal as I reflected upon them.  I hope that by sharing some of these, you find some healing too.

I found this positive thought, and it seems to be perfect for starting us off:

Get up, dress up, show up & never give up

One of the hardest things after losing your child is just getting up and going about your day.  Your routine has just been shot to hell and not only are you emotionally shattered but you are also disoriented. Nothing seems real.  Nothing makes sense.  Time seems to stand still but the clock keeps on ticking.

This phrase reminds me that of my new motto: one day at a time, one step at a time.  It takes a lot of willpower to get up every day, especially those first couple months.  Just getting up, out of bed, is a step taken towards the healing path.  If it's all you can do for weeks, or months, consider it an accomplishment.  It truly is.

When you feel up to it, take the next step and get dressed.  Do your hair, or make-up.  If you are up for it, all of it.  Taking these small steps, one at a time, will help you build a new routine.  It'll be difficult the first times, but it'll get easier with time, and repetition.  I strongly believe that routine helps with establishing a healthy healing path.  It gives your mind something to expect, something to concentrate on.  It gives your body a pattern to follow, and your body needs the routine too.

I will take the phrase literally and say that the next step is showing up, though it doesn't have to be.  Throw yourself back into social situations when you feel up for it.  It will be difficult and being in a crowd can be filled with triggers - moments or things that remind you of the loss, the pain and what you once had.  Showing up can mean telling yourself you will go, with an open ended option to leave at anytime.  It can mean trying to go, but turning around when you are halfway there.  One day, you will make it to the door and walk through.  And it'll feel okay.  The triggers won't be as intense.  One small step at a time, is all you have to do.

Never give up.  I don't have a choice to give up, life didn't stop even if it feels like it did.  The first weeks, months were incredibly difficult.  Difficult really doesn't begin to explain how painful it was to go through.  It's still "difficult", but I suppose the pain is less intense.  This doesn't mean I love my son less than I did 10 months ago.  It just means that my heart and mind have come to accept what has happened.  Doesn't mean I like it.  It doesn't mean I want to accept it.  It doesn't mean that any morning is easy to awaken from.  I've come to appreciate everything in my life a lot more though, and that's a blessing.  Not something I asked for.  It came at a high price.  I'd exchange this appreciation back for my son any day.

The lesson here is that we all have survival in us.  It's in our blood, because really when you have no other choice, your body and your mind will go into survival mode - as long as you allow yourself to it.  Just take it a moment at a time.  Survival isn't a race.  It's not a competition.  It's about overcoming the worse possible thing that can happen to you, and finding a way to continue on.  For me, it's been appreciating the blessing that Preston was in my life, for the short time he was with us.  It's been sharing my son's smile with the world.  It's been sharing my experience, in the hopes of helping someone.  And I'm proud of my son for taking me down this path.  His smile reminds me every day that happiness exists, even in the darkest of times.  You just have to take it a day, or a moment at a time.