Sometimes...I just break

As Christmas nears I notice that I am struggling more and more with being able to control my emotions. This could very well be the only Christmas I get with Tristan. Little things have set me off, even when I don't realize something will be hard it is. I went to buy a dress for church at motherhood, and when I walked in my heart became heavy. Then I glanced up and I saw a shirt, it said, I love you already. I had to swallow hard, fighting back tears. I looked and looked for a dress. I just wanted to be beautiful for Christmas. I wanted to be beautiful for my baby boy. As I was looking I looked up and again another shirt gave me a stab to the heart, " All I want for Christmas is you baby." For many people that's a play off a song. For me, those were my true wish.  All I want is for my baby boy to come home, for him to breath, laugh, play, grow.  I was able to swallow back the tears for a while longer, and only had a few tears fall down my face as we drove away.  I told Rod how hard it was, and about the shirts that I saw that were like daggers penetrating my heart.

This Sunday we went to church and I as always was prepared to cry.  Something about worshiping God, and being in his presence has always gotten me choked up.  Now add in the fact with the situation I am faced with, and it means automatic tears.  This is only the second time I have been able to go to church since we found out almost five weeks ago.  Not because I am angry with God, but because praising him breaks me to pieces.  It breaks me because I feel him with me, I feel him holding me.  For two weeks I have started to sing and always had to stop half way through the song.  The words just bring tears to my eyes, no matter the song.  Then this week, as others went to the alter to pray, I lost it.  I couldn't pray, I didn't know what to say.  I also knew I didn't have too at that moment.  God knew what was on my heart, he knew what I was trying to say yet could not find the words.  I looked over at Rod to find strength, and instead, I saw tears.  He hasn't broken down many times during this time, but that day he did.  I lost it.  Any control I had I lost it.  I always look to him for comfort, and the times I have seen tears in his eyes, I know how bad it is.  All the pain hits me.  If it is great enough to bring my husband to tears, I know its bad.  Just like the day when the doctor told us the news, when I saw the tears in his eyes, I knew.  I knew it was bad.  The preacher announced that she felt she needed to pray over us, so we were surrounded and they prayed over us.  I just let tears roll, what was the use in trying to hold them back.  I just let them pour, along with the lovely snot that came with it.

Today we went to the cemetery we plan to bury Tristan in, if the Lord decides that is his will.  I cried before we left, knowing that I may have to go there to visit my son.  As we arrived at first I was fine.  I just thought about how it was out in the country, surrounded by farm land, and forest.  It was so peaceful, and it is where some of Rod's family is buried.  As I looked around at some of the graves I started to shake.  I am not sure how much was from the cold, and how much was from the reality of it all.  There was a very good possibility that I would be burying my child there.  I was going to have to lay him in the cold ground, instead of a warm bed.  I had the visualization of laying him into the ground, and I started to cry.  I walked by a few graves that were either still fresh enough where the dirt was still mounded up, and one where it had almost caved in on one side.  It sent shivers down my entire body.  I had to walk away when I got to the grave that was freshly dug, and awaiting its occupant the next day. The big empty hole, where a body was going to lay, made me sick.  I just walked away.  I cried as I realized my baby, my Tristan, will be laid to rest in grave.  Although it will only be the shell of a body, and not his spirit.  It breaks me.

After we returned home, I knew the shirt that broke me down.  I had to have.  I needed him to know, I needed the world to know that I will always love him.  After we returned home, I set off for the second time that day for San Marcus.  I went to the store and found the shirt hanging on a mannequin.  When I asked where they were, I was told that was the only one they had.  It was one size bigger than what I usually buy.  I was going to make it work, but I tried it on, to make sure I could.  It fit perfectly.  God knew, I needed that shirt.  He knew I needed something small to bring me peace.  As simple as that shirt is, it means the world to me right now.  Because it lets everyone know, I will always love him...

If you see me crying, specially around this Christmas Season, please just remember, I am not a disease, I am not crazy.  I am hurting.  I have to come to terms with the fact that this maybe the only Christmas I get with both my boys.  This maybe the only Christmas season I get to sing to both of them, wake up on Christmas morning with both of them, and laugh with both of them.  My heart aches for my son, and I continue to pray that God will give us a miracle.  I will not give up hope on my son, until he is gone in the grave.  The thing is, I have to realize, he may go to a grave.  So be gentle with me and my family...Sometimes...we just break.

24 weeks and 4 days-still kicking

Tristan's booties I found for him today

 

 The shirt I had to have...I love you always...