Missing Luke

I din't even think about what day it was yesterday. Today I got on facebook (which I hardly do anymore) and noticed that people were posting and sharing things related to infant loss, because yesterday was October 15.

Yesterday I was thinking about Luke. I missed him. I longed for him. I missed my little boy who I don't have in my life right now. Yes, I can hardly handle caring for one child and my life with two, would bring on so many more challenges, but that's not what it's about. It's about missing Luke and wishing he was a part of our family here and now in a physical way. I know he's part of our family and hopefully he is watching after us in ways we don't even know about, but I still miss him.

So I drove along the freeway with my little bundle of joy sleeping in his car-seat and tears in my eyes.

Missing you my little boy.

Words Cannot Convey

I suppose this early morning is the quiet that I’ve been looking for. Life with a baby lends its self to a very occupied day. Mornings often start before I do (Hello 5:15 am), nap times are filled with my “to-do” list which often just includes things like “shower” and “feed me.” I, of course, wouldn’t have it any other way. Jeremy is my world and I am happy to devote my life to him right now. Yet it doesn’t change the fact that I need just a little more quiet time. Time for me. Time to think. Time to write. And time to reflect.

I’ve missed having half a day to sit and think and write about my thoughts and things pertaining to Luke. Perhaps as I continue to improve my daily routines I can allow that to be a part of my life again. Perhaps not a half a day, but some time. Just a little bit of time for Luke.

So this morning I suppose it is a blessing that after an early morning feeding with Jeremy I couldn’t fall back asleep. The house is dark, it is calm, and I can hear the rain outside the window.

The rain. Sometimes it’s more of a feeling that it brings. Reflection. It’s hard to know what feelings to focus on. The details. The facts. It all starts coming back it mind. It never really left my mind, but the rain and the quiet morning bring it back up to the surface.

Wednesday. That was book club day. The day I spent reading to finish the book in time for that evening. The day I noticed Luke wasn’t moving much. He never moved much though. The book club. The friends. The conversation. The laughter. The insights. The talk of birth and anticipation and waiting. The drive home. The long dark drive home. Laying on the couch trying to feel movement. Sometimes he moved more at night. Sometimes. Worry. Concern.

Thursday. The day I knew. Movement –there was none. The day I wept. I showered. I wept. I wandered the house. I wept. My baby! Dear God, what am I to do? I’m supposed to be a mother right now. Why?! What am I supposed to do with my life now. I was paralyzed. I knew he was gone. I sat numbly on the couch. Paralyzed.

Denial. Everything is fine. I’ll serve. I’ll go to work. I go to the church to finish my visiting teaching reports. Evening preparations and summertime BBQ. Everything is fine.

Friday. Denial. Everything is fine.

The prenatal appointment. “You guys, this isn’t good.” Her big, caring eyes told it all as they penetrated my soul. Ultra sound. Doctor. Hospital. Induction. Phone calls. Texts. Prayers. Lots of prayers.

Blessings of angels. Labor. An un-medicated, beautifully strong, quick labor. I prepared for that.

Saturday – the stroke of midnight—we behold my son’s precious body though his spirit no longer resided within.

I did it. My work was done. I gave him a body. The body that one glorious day will be his again.

*****

The pain, the heartache, the emotions rise in me as the rain quiets outside. I can’t dig deeper. Not now. It hurts. It’s time to let it settle again. For a season. The memories are still there. Still as vivid as ever. The details are so clear in my mind. The emotions still sting my heart. It’s still there.

The memory is painful. The journey is hard. The love is strong.

*****

My darling little boy, we regret not being able to know you while you were here. We are certain you are ours forever and that our family has a guardian angel in you. Your second birthday would be next week. Trains? Cars? Planes? I wonder what you’d prefer. I’m thinking of you at this special time of year. I love you little one. Love, your mommy.

Motherhood -- with and without a baby

Life Without a Baby

You can't get anything accomplished
Your mail goes unread
Your bills go unpaid
Your meals go uncooked
Your emails pile up
You ignore phone calls
You sleep --- a lot
You sleep
You cry
You think
You mourn
You yearn
You long
You sleep
You cry
Life moves on without you
You're overwhelmed

You learn, you grow, you overcome
You gather strength from friends and family

You find joy knowing your baby will be yours one day
One glorious day
The future is unknown, but faith brings
Peace
Joy
and
Hope


Life With a Baby

You can't get anything accomplished
Your mail goes unread
Your bills go unpaid
Your meals go uncooked
Your emails pile up
You miss phone calls
You're awake --- all night
Baby sleeps
Baby cries
Baby eats
Baby sleeps
Baby cries
Baby eats
You're tired
So tired you wonder if you can do this
You're a zombie
Life moves on without you
You're overwhelmed

You learn, you grow, you overcome
You gather strength from friends and family

You find joy in the simple things
Snuggles
Smiles
Laughter
Growth
Milestones
Snuggles --- lots of snuggles
Peace
Joy
and
Happiness

Lots of Happiness

*****

I'm so grateful for both of my sons and all of the experiences their lives have brought me. 

9/11 Memorial

I don't know what it is about grief that turns me to the computer to write. It's like my soul can't contain the feelings of heartache so I have to put it somewhere. I guess some people let go of balloons, or light a candle. I write.

So here I am tonight. Reflecting. Reflecting on the events that transpired on September 11, 2001.

A few months ago I attended a museum in DC with an exhibit highlighting a particular photographer/journalist's experience that day. When the first plane struck the towers he grabbed his camera and headed toward what would later be called "Ground Zero," even though everyone else was running away. He called his wife once or twice to check in with her and report what he was seeing. It wasn't until his camera was recovered from the rubble that the rest of the story unfolded. He continued to stay, to do what had always been his work and passion, he stayed to capture the story. The final footage depicted the tenderness of first responders helping people as well as the horrors of injured people fleeing from the scene and even jumping from the towers. The last picture showed the other tower, struck already by the second plane, with sunlight glistening through the smoke and debris, moments before the tower collapsed.

That was the last thing on his roll of film.

Tonight I think of him and all of the nearly 3,000 people that were killed that day. I think about how each of them had a family, had friends, had loved ones--whose lives would never be the same. They each had a story that ended that day.

I can't help to think about all the loved ones that were left behind. How many people lost their spouse. How many parents lost their children. How many children lost parents.

Trevor said, "it doesn't seem fair," as we gazed across the enormous fountains that have been constructed in the very spot each tower stood. The fountains are deep and water flows from ground level down the dark stone, and then down another level, to what appears to be a bottomless abyss. The fountains are vast, and powerful, and sullen, and sobering.

It doesn't seem fair that all of these people were victims of such a terrible thing.

Tonight, feeling overwhelmingly grateful to have each other, we think about the families whose lives have been forever affected by this tragedy.

"That could have been me," he states before lovingly taking Jeremy around the fountain. We live and work in Arlington and New York and it could have been us. If it had just been another day, another place, it could have just as easily been one of us.

I don't personally know anyone that lost a loved one that day, but I saw their names in the bronze, I gently ran my fingers across the letters of their names, and I thought of them and their loved ones.

One pamphlet said that the youngest person that died was 2-years-old. This discovery on the memorial informed us otherwise. There was another one I saw that included "...and her unborn child."

My heart is heavy and full of love for these strangers, yet fellow Americans, that have experienced grief and death in the form of a catastrophe that is beyond comprehension.

Life is Precious Part One: The Morning I Buried a Bird

Recently our landlord put down fresh grass seed for us in our back yard. Our little plot of land behind our townhome isn't large, but we're putting forth our most valiant effort to help the grass thrive. We have been diligent at watering it and recently concluded that, though few, the weeds that are present should probably be removed to improve the success of the grass.

After weeding the grass I ripped a big dead weed from between the patio bricks. I looked over and noticed something I hadn't noticed before. What is that on on the bricks? Upon closer inspection I discovered it was a baby bird, laying there --lifeless. It looked too small and featherless to have even hatched on it's own yet. 

How did it get here? What happened to it? Poor baby bird. It's poor mamma.

I felt so sad for this little lifeless creature. This little bird who's life was so short. 

Though small and lifeless, the little bird was quite miraculous. He* had been growing and had wings, and a beak, and little fragile and frail legs . . . now limp. How perfect he seemed and how sorry I was that he didn't get to spread those wings and fly. 

I couldn't help thinking of my baby and everyone's babies whose spirits leave their small fragile and frail bodies sooner than any of us would anticipate. I couldn't help thinking about the aching moms who had so many hopes and dreams for their little ones. But sometimes God has a different plan and our little ones don't live their lives like we envisioned they would. They live them briefly, yet leave more of an impact on anyone than we could have imagined.

I felt like I couldn't just toss him in the trash can that was there right next to the patio. It didn't seem right. So I dug a small hole for him and buried him. I know he was just a bird, but he reminded me of how precious and sacred and glorious life is. He reminded me of the ache and sorrow I and many other mothers face when we lose our little ones. He reminded me of how miraculous and beautiful growth is even if it ends before we would deem it complete. 

So thinking of how much I didn't enjoy having to bury him and recognizing that someone had to do it, and remembering my mom and her courage when she buried our dog Tuffy when I was in elementary school, and thinking about the horse grave Trevor and I found off a wooded trail several months ago and how much harder it would have to be to bury a horse, I closed my eyes as I scooped the dirt over the little bird's body. In one scoop and some shuffling of the mulch to cover it up it was done. Poor bird. It seemed like his grave was worthy of a marker so I carefully stuck some leaves in the dirt above him. The little leaves even seemed to look feathery to me. I liked that.

Life is precious and fragile and this morning I was reminded of that.

And I wish that is where my thoughts ended, but that will be post for another day  . . . 

Helping Broken Hearts

Trevor and I have a friend Katie from Minnesota where he served his mission. Katie has a friend who in addition to having Katie as a mutual friend, unfortunately, now has another connection to us.

Her sweet baby girl wasn't moving and slipped quietly back to heaven before she was born. 

I hate having this in common with people. I wish that it didn't have to happen to anyone else. My heart breaks each time I hear about other parents experiencing the loss of their sweet babies.

My friend Katie is an amazing woman. She moved right in to action to help this family. She has set up a blog to help raise money for this family to be able to handle the financial burden of loss. There are items that have been donated for sale as well as an option to just make a cash donation. Any excess in donations will be passed on to Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. 

 Here's the blog for their sweet baby Alice 

http://alice-was-here.org/

If you feel like you are able, I know a donation to this family would mean so much to them.