One year ago already

Today marks one year on a calender.  One year since my son gained eternal life.  Krystal, thank you for putting it this way.  I like it better than most alternatives.

Today is one of those days, those "milestone" days where I would expect to be totally sad.  A day where I feel my whole being telling me that I should be in excruciating pain in remembrance of the events that transpired Thursday, March 13, 2014.  I felt some of that yesterday too.  There's a big difference between should and what is.  Preston should be here with his mom and dad, but he's in Heaven instead.

My goal wasn't, isn't to go into a should vs. reality rant.  My goal is simply to say, today feels like most days.  The recollections from this day last year, don't just come on these significant days.  They appear in my mind sporadically.  Most often, as I drive by the hospital.  Often, when it's late at night and I can't sleep.  To tell you those images didn't enter my mind today would be a lie.  I had my deep grief moment around 3:30, which is around the time I found out Preston had stopped breathing last year.  I saw the clock, and I froze.  I shed some tears, and ached for my son.  And then I got right back to helping my hubby with painting our half bathroom slash laundry room.

Today, is not a day I want to celebrate.  I've said it several times, I wish I could erase this day from all future calendars.  Since I can't, I wish it to be as "normal" a day as possible.  Not knowing what to expect, I did take the day off.  I slept in, watched a bit of TV and helped my husband with the renovation projects he's been working on all week.  I hope to have a nice quiet evening, attempting to "heal" some friends and strangers as they attempt to defeat the monsters in a World of Warcraft dungeon.  It sounds geeky, and maybe it seems to be a weird way to spend today, but it is night and day to how we spent this day last year, and that to me, sounds perfect.

When I look back on this day, whether it's tomorrow, or 3 years from now, I will not remember it as the day I spent remembering the day I lost my son.  I will remember it as a day of love, filled with rainbows, color and support.  The forecast today predicted a rainstorm.  I was hoping for it, because I thought it might mean the first rainbow of the year, which would have been perfect for today.  There was no rainstorm, rather a few sprinkles around noon which lasted a whole 2 minutes.

No rainbow in the sky? No problem! I got several rainbows.  I got a gift bag from Wanda yesterday, adorned with tissue papers of rainbow colors.  It also had spiraled ribbons as colorful as rainbows.  This bag contained the stone bunny pictured above, for Preston's garden.  Simply perfect Wanda.  It was totally not necessary but I appreciate it so much.  It warms my heart and I can't wait to get Preston's garden ready for Spring.  Even more so now.

We received a beautiful plant from Charles & Kate.  Bromeliads.  Orange, and red and purple.  The colors of this plant pop, and really remind me of Preston.  We thank you for that and driving all the way to our place to give it to us.  You guys are just amazing.

Jarad and Katie got us a gift certificate to a plant nursery.  It'll be nice to get something and plant it in Preston's memory.  Thank you guys.  It means so much to us.

We received beautiful cards, bundles of text messages, Facebook messages and posts, and I had several messages on the BBC forums.  I also got beautiful Jamberry nail coverings from Jamie.  They are rainbows.  I wanted to wear them this week, but with the renovations, I decided to wait until things are back to normal in our house so that I can enjoy them.

And so, on this day, I hope that my message continues to go around the world.  Spread a little happiness whenever you can.  A little happiness can go a long way for someone.  And if you need a reason to do it, do it for Preston.  Do it in his memory.  Do it because it makes him smile, as he looks down on us, perched on a perfect, fluffy white cloud.

Finally, I'd like to share this poem I found last night.  I don't know the author, but it seemed to be fitting:

On The Anniversary of the Day You Went Away

Today's the anniversary

Of the day that I lost you,

And for a time it felt as though

My life had ended too.

But loss has taught me many things

And now I face each day,

With hope and happy memories

To help me on my way.

And though I'm full of sadness

That you're no longer here,

Your influence still guides me

And I still feel you near.

What we shared will never die

It lives within my heart,

Bringing strength and comfort

While we are apart.

I love you Preston.  Forever and ever. 

Where I've been hiding out

To my blog readers-

I apologize for not having written a lot so far this month.  I'm not in a terrible place, but I've been sick.  Nothing serious, just a head cold.  Last week, I just felt miserable.  A lot of sneezing and coughing and just feeling blah.  The cold has stayed with me, thanks to my good ol' compromised immune system, but I am feeling better.  No blah, less sore throat, though you couldn't tell by hearing me speak - sometimes it feels like my voice just stops, other times it squeaks... it makes me laugh at least.   Hopefully though, I just continue to feel better, slowly but surely.

So my head cold has kept me distracted, and tired, but I've also had another case of writer's block.  It's interesting considering I have a list of like 30 topics I want to write about.  I guess it also takes the right mood sometimes, right?  I just have been feeling uninspired to write, and hopefully that's ok.  Don't want to let Preston down, but I guess mama needed a little break.

I don't know what the next couple days will bring.  While Preston passed away on 3/13/14, and the one year mark of that is this Friday, he passed away on a Thursday.. which would make the "one year mark" tomorrow too.  The anticipation of everything has been really difficult to deal with.  And although I've learned throughout this last year, that often, anticipation is worse than actually reaching any kind of "anniversary", I still don't know what to expect every time one of them is around the corner.  I guess the nice thing about this cold has been that it's been a distraction for the first part of the month.  It's already the 11th and albeit the first several days of March, I haven't felt overly emotional.

I know a lot of this is due to all the prayers coming my way.  I thank you for those.  I really truly do.  I wouldn't be where I am today without them.


To leave you on a more positive note, I was browsing Twitter earlier and saw something of interest.  I don't tweet a lot.  I joined to follow a few friends years ago, and then started following all the GH stars I like, and now I follow like 175 people/causes.. I'm not on there too much, but sometimes there are fun things to read.  One of the trending subjects today is #GoodAdviceIn4Words.  I like that, it seems possible and I read some pretty good ones, I thought I'd share:

• Do it for you
• You are not alone
• Never give up. Ever.
• Sit down and write (that's for me! Who needs motivation, just write!!)
• There's no secret ingredient
• Be kind to yourself
• Never ever trust A (Pretty Little Liars reference)
• Always keep moving forward
• You have a purpose

Mine to you:  Spread Happiness For Preston

Basically, do kind things whenever possible.  It makes him smile. It makes me smile.

Much love to everyone <3

PoP Workshop: Session 4

In session 3 of the Pursuit of Purpose workshop, Rachel made us look at a fact of life: We have a need to be right.  This may not be something I discussed in my own post for workshop 3, but it was in the back of my mind as I typed up my blog entry and wrote my "foundation".  I will quote a passage from her blog entry, because I really think it's powerful:

We have an event. We create a story. Then we subconsciously seek out experiences that will validate our story because our need to be right trumps everything else we say we want. And so it goes around and around.

As Rachel mentions, thankfully, in life, we have choices to make.  We can make our stories positive instead of negative.  We can find the little good in our events of brokenness and help it redefine our stories.  Easy to do? Probably not.  Will it happen overnight?  Again, it's doubtful.  BUT...  If you start by changing your story today, you will be headed in the right direction.

And so, here I go creating stories that better serve me, my way of life, and who I want to be.

Depression: There is a lot of good in my life to keep me motivated.

Miscarriage(s): My journeys have shaped me into who I am, and it has better prepared me for future hardships.  It will continue to guide me.

Health Issues: The right attitude is half the battle. Keep at it!

Losing Preston: I am deserving of God's love and understanding.  I deserve to mother a living child.  I will survive and find a way to help others find their way to heal.

And now, while my original stories weren't completely negative, I do feel ready to let go of the negativity that remained attached to them.  I need to let go of it.

Let em burn...

PoP Workshop: Session 3

For the full explanation of the workshop, please visit Rachel's blog entry: Pursuit of Purpose: Session 3

This has been a tough exercise for me.  We are to use the events of brokenness we defined for ourselves in session 1 to establish what meaning we attach to each of these events.

Like Rachel mentions in her blog entry, I also believe that it's human nature to make sense of everything that happens to us, especially when that something, is not a good thing.  And for the most part, we do attach a negative meaning to these events.  "I must have done something wrong" is a thought I'm sure most of us have had at some point in our lives.

Finding the negative meanings in relation to my events of brokenness is difficult.  Not for all of them, but for several of them because I feel like I've been able to put those pessimistic views about them behind me.  I've grown.  So, I dug deep to see if I still somehow had negative connotations linked to these events.  For those I didn't, I used a notion that I had in the past.

Depression

Now, I am not a doctor, and I was never diagnosed with depression, but I do strongly believe that I developed it in the months after moving the to States.  I was uprooted.  I didn't have a job, couldn't have a job for 6 months, and I knew next to no one.  When I first found out I wouldn't be able to work for 6 months, I was actually excited! Extended vacation!! No, not at all.  I had zero motivation to get anything done.  I let fear control me - not knowing my surroundings, not being comfortable with the new speed limits and the miles versus kilometers.  I let it run my life.  When I finally was able to get a job and got a job, things finally fell into place.  I was a "little" more outgoing, I wasn't as frightful about everything.  So now, the meanings I attach to my depression, the beliefs I have in them, I try to steer clear of, so that I do not go down that path again.

• Unmotivated
• Fear
• Disorganized
• Indiffirence

And steering clear of these, not always easy.  Let me tell ya...

Miscarriage

I remember all too well the emptiness I felt when I first saw blood during my pregnancy in 2012.  I knew.  Then the tests, the silence of the ultrasound tech.  The look in the nurses' eyes, and the squeezing of my hand.  And then the doctor saying "I'm sorry, there's no heartbeat".  Crushed.  Devastated.  This baby that I'd wanted for so long, that we'd wanted for so long but that we had needed to put off due to my health.  I felt responsible.  I felt like this wasn't meant to be for me.

A few months later, I was in the hospital due to sharp, unending pangs of pain in my chest and in my back.  I was diagnosed with a bowel obstruction.  I would have been 13-14 weeks pregnant with the baby we'd just lost.  It had been a blessing in disguise that our little one stopped growing at 6 weeks, even though we didn't find out until 3 weeks later.  My health was not good.  My condition would have made for a most difficult pregnancy.  Even if the baby didn't somehow suffer the consequences of my illness, I can't see that it would have been a healthy baby.  Would I have loved this baby even if it wasn't? Hell yes!  However, I wouldn't ever want to see a child, never mind my child, be in pain because of something I did, even if I don't really have total control over my health.  What would the pain meds have done to my child?  Could I have gotten better without meds?  I was so weakened because I couldn't eat.  I was nauseous all the time and I'm not talking morning sickness here.  I can't imagine it would have given quality of life to my child.  My GI always says, healthy mom equals healthy baby.  I would only assume that the opposite rings true.  

I suspect that I was pregnant again when I went in for this bowel obstruction, in May 2012.  It was never confirmed, but the timing of the bleeding.. I just know.  I didn't take it as hard, given the circumstances of my health, but it was something I thought about a lot.  I grieved, but it was very short lived.

The notions I attach to my miscarriage(s)?  I've had a hard time with this one.

• Acceptance
• Empathy

Health Issues

Growing up, an upset stomach was a common occurrence for me.  Test after test, nothing.  There's nothing wrong with me.  Yet, all those times in the bathroom where I felt so sick, so ill that I'd plead with God, "why me", "what did I do to deserve this".  Over dramatic?  Maybe, but severe pain can do crazy things to your mind.

It wasn't until I was 18 that I found out that yes, something what wrong with me.  I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease, an incurable disease, and prescribed 15 pills to take every day.  Quite the blow to my 18 year old self.  It was something I struggled with, mentally and physically for years and years.

ER visits became almost yearly occurrences.  I would shy away from social engagements for fear of eating something my body wouldn't tolerate.  Crohn's can be an embarrassing disease, if you let it.  I struggled with the ups and downs of flare-ups for over a decade.  I was tired all the time, without even realizing it.  I constantly had to learn to shift my diet to what my body had decided to digest for a specific period of time.  I had to completely cut out certain foods from my diet.  It was a lot of adjusting, and re-adjusting.

With time, I began to understand my body a lot better.  It's difficult to trust it completely, because from flare to flare, what my body tolerates is different.  I haven't flared since my surgery in October 2012, but that possibility is always present and it tends to make me nervous when in unfamiliar territory.  Remicade, the drug protocol I'm on to "maintain" Crohn's, or keep flares at bay if you rather, has helped me regain trust in my body.  It's helped bring back some stability.

Unfortunately, my health issues haven't been limited to Crohn's.

During the late stages of my pregnancy with Preston, I developed pre-eclampsia, and soon after, the HELLP syndrome.  Pre-eclampsia is a condition some women develop during pregnancy, usually later stage of pregnancy, with the primary symptom of elevated blood pressure. The HELLP syndrome is a liver disorder, life-threatening disorder that is.  This disorder causes your red blood cells to breakdown, your liver enzymes to increase and your platelet counts to go down.  Put all that together and it's pretty scary.  Not only was my baby in danger, but my own life was in danger.  Worse part is, none of the symptoms were obvious, and they weren't painful... How does one know??  The cure?  Giving birth is supposed to make the symptoms of both pre-ecalmpsia and HELLP syndrome go away withing 2-3 days.  My blood pressure stayed elevated for months, and I had to be on meds for over 6 months.  My baby was born way underweight, like if I hadn't been eating for months.  He had no "chub".  Aside from that, he was perfectly fine.  Just a little small, and a little too early.  He caught up fast.  To this day though, I feel like I didn't give him the best chance.  I feel like my body failed me, when it was most important that it didn't.

Still, to this day, I wish I had gone to see my doctor sooner.  My swelling was abnormal.  My weight gain in a week, alarming.  Somehow though, my blood pressure was fine when I went to the doctor on November 18, 2013.  It was normal.  Other signs concerned them though so they drew blood for testing and told me to be prepared to go to the hospital that night.  And we did.  I was given medicines to make my blood pressure drop fast.  Quite honestly, I don't remember much about that night, or the whole next day.  I remember being told I was going for a c-section and vaguely remember holding Preston for the first time.  I wish I remembered more considering I just have 16 weeks of memories.  Premature birth is a risk factor for SIDS.  That there alone has been a difficult factor for me to swallow.  I didn't trust my gut to go see the doctor earlier.  Maybe I could have gone on bed rest and he would have gone full term and he'd still be here today.

I could drive myself crazy right now, like I have before.  I won't.  I cannot change the past.  I cannot change the way my body works, or rather doesn't work.  That being said, what notions do I tie with my health issues?

• Strength 
• Fear
• Perseverance

Losing Preston

I still struggle with the fact that my baby boy is no longer on this Earth.  I struggle with it every day, yet find a way to go about my day.  I survive.  Some days, it's easier to survive, while others, it's hard just to breathe.  I've tried to find new motivations, new passions.  Some have worked, some have not.  Since walking out of the fog that was the early stages of grief, I've needed to share my son with the world, or at least try to.  I've needed to share my feelings, my grief, my way, with others, in the hopes of touching one person going through a difficult time.  Hoping that perhaps, one step that I've taken, is what they feel they need to do.  Hoping that maybe it shows others that while it feels impossible to survive the loss of a child, it is possible, through terribly difficult.

What notions do I attach to losing my son?  So many, but probably most of all:

• Losing my faith in God
• Hopelessness
• Not meant to have children
• Survival

Those are my beliefs.  We tend to turn these beliefs into stories, our stories.  After a lot of meditation, here are mine.

Depression: When unmotivated, my being becomes unorganized, fearful, and susceptible to the dark side.  The more that is true, the less I care.

Miscarriage(s):  Your journeys shape you into who you are, and better prepare you for the ones to come.

Health Issues:  I can overcome anything life throws at me, as long as I have the right attitude.  

but...

Losing Preston: Why didn't God listen to my prayers? What did I do to deserve this? Can I really overcome anything, or am I just going through the motions?

Stay tuned for session 4.  

Preston's Molly Bear

I first read about Molly Bears sometime last year.  Molly Bears is a non-profit organization founded by a bereaved mom, Bridget Crews.  Bridget lost her daughter Molly Christine at 34 weeks of gestation.  Following her loss, a friend gave her a weighted, 3 lbs, teddy bear.  Bridget felt like she needed a bear that weighed the exact same as her daughter, and so she bought a shell and rice, and created the first ever Molly Bear.  It gave her something to fill her arms with and brought her much needed comfort.  Fast forward almost 5 years, over 5.5k bears have been created and donated to families, just like hers.  Just like mine.

I'd seen a couple ladies talk about how their baby's Molly Bear brought them comfort and it pushed me to order one.  You can order once a month around the 30th until the max number of orders have been filled.  I missed my shot several months in a row and almost did again, until I saw one of my angel mama friends, Dawna, say she'd just ordered hers.  I jumped on their webpage and did the same.

This morning, I opened the door to leave a little earlier than usual.  It had snowed, and I needed to brush snow off my car, and wanted a little extra time for my commute since it had been so slick the night before.  There was a huge box at the door.  Not knowing what it was, I lifted it just to bring it inside the house, and noticed the label - Molly Bears.  I didn't have time to open the box and had to just leave it there for later.

Preston's Molly Bear was on my mind all day.  How would I feel when I lifted the 11lbs 3oz bear for the first time?  For certain, I thought, I will break down.  With how unstable my emotions have been lately, I just knew it was going to be difficult, which hadn't even crossed my mind when I ordered it months ago.  Well I opened it about 30 minutes ago.  My initial thought was, it is heavy.  Was Preston this heavy?  I carried it around for a while, and sadly, I could not make a parallel between the bear's weight and Preston's weight.  Most likely it is because it's been almost a year since I last held Preston, and the bear is actually bigger than Preston was.  Disproportionate weight shift.

Nonetheless, I hugged it for several minutes and walked around the kitchen.  It didn't feel heavy anymore.  It felt right, even if it isn't Preston.  The card mentions "an angel baby's cuddle sent to a family in need".  It really did feel like the cuddle of an angel.  From my angel.  For it to arrive now... a weekish's time before Preston's angelversary?  For it to arrive the day after 3 emotional days?  A couple people said, "the timing is perfect" and "it's a clear sign from Preston".  And they are right.  It is perfect timing, and it is a sign from Preston.

It's easy to be skeptical about signs.  It's blind faith and a lot struggle with that notion.  I myself have days where I am skeptical about signs.  But I saw bunnies hopping around the neighbor's yard all weekend.  Ok, not all weekend, just a couple times, but still.  There have been hardly any bunnies all winter, and it hasn't been a really cold winter, or a snowy one.  Except for February and March, so far.  I'll take it though. Thank you for sending the bunnies, and for making Preston Bear arrive when he did.


I want to take the time to thank the Molly Bear organization.  Thank you so much.  Even if I had mixed emotions today, I'm so happy to have Preston Bear.  I'm so thankful that he will be here when I need a special hug.  Thank you to, Bridget for creating something so positive to help out so many bereaved families, many of which don't have all the memories I do.  Many of which never held their babies.  I will forever keep Molly Christine in my heart.  I want to also thank Elizabeth for creating Preston's bear for me.  This bear with a blue teddy bear on his belly, a pretty blue ribbon and a rainbow ribbon.  It's perfectly, and simply Preston.  Like Molly, your little Sweet Caroline holds a special place in my heart.

To the entire Molly Bear team, thank you so much for what you do.  I know many of you are bereaved parents yourselves, or siblings or close to others who have loved and lost.  I'm so terribly sorry for your loss.  I commend you for being part of such a positive organization that touch so many families in a way that no one really can.  Bravo to you.  Thank you, from the bottom of my less broken heart.

A peek into the ebbs and flows of child loss

Monday - March 2, 2015: 5:30pm

I think it's going to be a tough month.  I'm feeling tired, though I blame Remicade.  It seems this time, the fatigue didn't hit me until Sunday as opposed to the night of my infusion which was Wednesday.  I'm feeling emotional.  I've shed some tears already this month.  What triggered it? Simple memories.  Reminders of what should be and what isn't.

I've been warned that for some, the second year is tougher. I am less than two weeks away from that horrible day which took my son away.  My emotions feel volatile.  I feel awfully vulnerable.  Right now, I want to crawl under a rock and just stay there for a month.

Fortunately for my conscience and for my heart, I have a support group meeting tonight.  I hope that the experience, wisdom and understanding of others who have lived through this milestone will guide me through it.  A milestone I never asked for, and never wanted.

I feel like I've been on a constant healing wave for months now.  The holidays were hard, but they were overall better than I expected.  Preston's birthday... while gut-wretchedly bittersweet, was really a wonderful day.  I saw the outpouring of love and happiness his life created for others.  I was so happy in my own sadness that day.  I was so proud of my son.  I'm proud of him every day really, but it's so hard to quantify because I can't compare it with the normal achievements a little boy should be accomplishing.

Today, it feels like I just got hit by a tidal wave, and it shoved me onto the shore of a deserted isle.  Do I feel alone? No.  I see so many others who are part of the community no one ever wants to be a part of - the community of bereaved parents.  The sea of anniversaries, be it that of a birthday, a due date or an angelversary, is taking me over the edge.  So many others like me, out there, suffering.  Suffering through the unimaginable.  Agonizing over the why. Oh the why... I could write for days about "why".


Monday - March 2, 10:00pm

Interestingly enough the "subject" of our meeting tonight was about grief and the acceptance of grief.  Intellectual acceptance versus emotional acceptance.  The journey of a bereaved parent is filled with power struggles.  The most predominant one, at least for me, the mind versus the heart.

My mind knows what the heart won't accept.  My heart feels what my mind doesn't understand.  It's enough to drive a person crazy.  Acceptance can have several connotations.  To some it can mean moving forward, while to others it means forgetting.  Acceptance can mean peace.

Tonight I talked about how I struggle with "acceptance".  After my miscarriage and learning how sick I was in 2012, I made peace with losing my baby.  With Preston, I can't see myself ever being there.  I'm not delusional.  I know my son is no longer on Earth.  My mind understands.  It doesn't mean my mind accepts it.  Perhaps it's the only place where my mind and my heart aren't struggling over who's "right".

These past couple days have shown me that the ebbs and flows of grief are still ever so present.  Even though my mind tells me that I've been through tough days before, you'll get through tough days again, my heart tells me that it doesn't want to right now.

As I was driving home tonight, lyrics from different songs stuck with me.

"I don't wanna waste another day, keeping it inside, it's killing me.  Cause all I ever wanted comes right down to you.  I wish that I could find the words to say (...)  I'm inconsolable."

"I don't wanna wait another minute to hear something that I already know."

"The pain is all I want to feel."

I'm not trying to say that I often keep my feelings inside.  I truly don't.  I mean, I write about the way I feel almost daily.  But these lyrics speak the truth to me.  Everything I ever wanted, always comes right back to Preston.  I think about him every day and my heart has a hole in it.  That hole, with time, will slowly fill up, but it will never be whole again.

Waking up every day, my mind knows that my little boy is no longer here.  Yet, every day, I wake up and feel like I'm learning it all over again.  It's a constant smack in the face.  I know... but because my heart aches for my son, it's something I continually have to be "told".  There are days, where I just wish I didn't know... or wish I already knew, even though I already know.  Sounds like a line out of friends: "They don't know that we know that they know".  My brain is like Monica and Chandler, while my heart is like Rachel and Phoebe.. or vice-versa.

What I felt more intensely though was "the pain is all I want to feel".  During the month of February, I read a countless number of quotes.  I want to say I remember reading something along these lines: "Grief is the price we pay for love".  The pain I feel in my heart, is a testament of my love for Preston.  And sometimes, I need to feel that painful agony that is deep rooted grief.  Much like sometimes, I need to feel true happiness when remembering special moments we had.

What will the next days bring? I do not know that answer.  Deep grief? Comfort?  Smiles?  Tears?  More than likely, it will be a combination of it all, much like today was.  And there you have it, a sneak peek into my mind... from tragically upset to peaceful understanding in the span of hours.

Buddy

In the event you are unfamiliar with him, let me re-introduce you to one of my fur-balls, Acro.  He is usually less independent than his sister.  He loves belly rubs and chasing hair ties.. actually he enjoys playing fetch with hair ties.  He is 4 years old, and a total house cat.  Living in Colorado, the though of having outdoor cats frightened me as you never really never know what wildlife might be out there - bears, coyotes, mountain lions.  He is a very loving cat, but also a very scared-y cat.  He can run from his own shadow.

Perhaps his ears were ringing... he just pranced into the kitchen as I type about him.  Acro, is my buddy.  At least, it's an affectionate name I have given him.  He will sit in my lap for non-stop pets.  His purr is soft and subtle.  His love bites are charming.  His meow can be one of the most entertaining things to listen to.  From his non-stop meow-meow-meow "I'm hungry", to his "I'm playing" purr-durr, to his low growl "I got the (fake) mouse.  It's mine!".  He will "love" on everything that is around when he wants attention, by stroking his head against it.  The table legs.  The fridge.  The wall.  And yes of course, our legs.

Sometime in 2013, probably in December, I was taking care of Preston and I called him buddy.  As soon as the words came out of my mouth, it felt weird.  I thought of taking it back, but soon enough, I was saying it all the time and it became one of my nicknames for Preston.  Without meaning to, while Preston was around, my cats got neglected.  Less pets.  Less cuddling by the fire.  Less belly rubs.  They would however often come hang out with Preston and I when I would rock him in his nursery.  They never tried to jump in his crib which I must be honest, is something I feared all the time.

After Preston passed, there came a day where I was in a better place and uttered "hi buddy" to Acro.  I cried.  And cried.  And cried some more.  The guilt of sharing the "buddy" name got to me so intensely.  I'd felt it the first several times I used it with Preston in place of Acro.  But this guilt... it was intolerable.  It drove me nuts for quite a while.  And then it got better.  Every time I now call Acro "buddy" it makes me smile and reminds me of when I would call Preston the same.

In similar fashion, I've felt guilt in relation to Acro and Preston.  Since bringing Preston's ashes home, I've kept two of his blankets and a onesie by his urn on our dresser.  The first time I saw that Acro had slept on his blankets and onesie, I flipped out.  It would take away the scent of Preston that still permeated the items.  Acro's hair would "soil" these keepsakes.  I started leaving something on his things so that Acro couldn't just sleep there.  Things like sunglasses.  He eventually found his way back to those blankets.  His persistence eventually turned my grief into a mysterious feeling.  What if he just wanted to be close to Preston?  Or what if it was Preston's way of saying, "Mama, I'm still nearby"?  Or what if it's just a cat wanting a comfy spot? Right, I know.  Logically, I know that it's probably the latter.  However, my mind sometimes needs to believe the other possibilities.  It needs to consider that it could be Preston or God sending me a sign.

I no longer feel anger toward my cat for leaving hair on Preston's things, even though I'm a little bit sad every time I see the black cat hairs clinged to his onesie.  I no longer feel guilt for allowing our cat to rest by Preston.  I no longer feel guilt when I call my cat "buddy", a nickname that I gave him in the first place.

Guilt can come from unusual places.  As hard as it is to believe, this type of guilt will go away.  Don't let it keep you down.  Breakaway from the guilt and be free.


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