Monday, March 31, 2014

I Would Have Met You Today

I would have met you today.  

Today I would have gone in to see your sweet face, to hear you cry, to start our life together as a family of four.  Today I should have been excited to hold you, to introduce your big brother to you. Today we should have been surrounded by family, and laughter.  Instead our lives are sluggishly moving forward.

Instead of waking up to your crying, I will cry myself to sleep.  Instead of kissing your sweet face late at night, I beg God to see you in my dreams.  Instead of my body hurting from exhaustion, it aches with emptiness.

I should have met you today.

I looked forward to this day, I dreamt of it.  Until we were told you would never make it here.  Now I dread this day, the thought of what should have been.  The memories I should be making.  I stand here aching to hold you once more, instead of finally getting to embrace you.

I should have met you today.

You are gone from this earth, living with our Lord.  I should rejoice that you never felt the hatred and sins of this world.  You only knew love.  But I can’t help but want to cry.  You should be in my arms, I should be singing Blue Sky’s and Rainbows as you drift off to sleep.  I should be telling you about Jesus, but instead he is telling you about me.

I should have met you today.

But instead, you wait for me in our heavenly home.  Until I come home and embrace you;

I will ache for you
I will cry for you
I will sing for you
I will rejoice that you never felt pain
I will praise our Lord that I got to know you
I will honor you

I love you my sweet Tristan, my angel fish.


Monday, March 10, 2014

A Different Kind of Normal

Over the last few weeks I have found myself doing things that I never thought I would have too. Not only am I doing those things, I am sure that parents that have never lost a child would look at my husband and I and think we are insane. So I made a list of what a bereaved parent does that another parent would never understand.

1. Going to see your child means going to a grave.
2. You only have one picture that you cannot change out on the wall, it's all you have and all you ever will of your child.
3. You read books about losing a baby to your oldest, so they can understand and remember their younger sibling.
4. You have an empty basket, and stocking for a child that does not live on this Earth.
5. You have to blow kisses to the sky, because you can't kiss your child's face.
6.You beg God to watch your child grow in your dreams, because you can't watch him grow on this Earth.
7. Having to explain to people you meet, that you have more than the child they can see.
8. You have to explain to your living child about death, and heaven way before they are ready to truly understand it.
9. You will never have all your children together.
10. Holidays will always make you cry, there is no way around it.
11. On your child's birthday, you have to blow out the candle.
12. Getting the very best for your child, means the best gravestone.
13. Instead of everything having to be perfect for a birthday or wedding, it has to be perfect for their funeral.
14. You have a stuffed animal with a name on it in place of where your child should be in family pictures.
15. You have an emptiness inside you no one will ever be able to fill.

I am a bereaved parent.  I do things differently, I have a different kind of normal.  Parents that do not know loss, do not understand, and I pray they never do.



Monday, March 3, 2014

The Peace Within Me

I sit here in complete dismay.  Was it all a dream?  It just seems like it never really happened.  I was never pregnant; he never came and left us.  It was all just a bad dream.  But to think back to Nov. 20th on that day when the doctor said something is wrong, and your son cannot survive.  That day the specialist said, there is nothing we can do.  The day, the moment, the sonogram technician placed the still image on the screen, and I knew you were gone.  The moments of holding your precious, still body in my arms, and running my finger across your nose, kissing the coldness of your face.  I remember, every single heart wrenching second.
So why do I feel like it was forever ago?  It has only been two weeks.  Why does my heart feel at peace, although empty?  Why can I see your things and not cry, and smile when I hear your name? Is something wrong with me? Why am I starting to itch to move forward with our lives?  Do I not love you enough?  Am I failing you as a mother once more?  My constant prayer for peace, even without understanding, without understanding the why, has the Lord simply answered my plea…already?

I don’t really know what I feel, but I know I love my oldest with such love and desperation that I never knew was possible.  I know that I look to my husband for strength and comfort I never imagined I would need.  I know that I beg the Lord daily to give me guidance, and peace, and I find a greater comfort in his word then I have ever known.

Peace, how have I found you in such grief?   How can I stand looking at the pictures of my angel thinking, with such determination, your memory will not die!  I refuse to allow you to go silently.  Why am I so hell bent on yelling out your story to the world, so others, like us, will never have to suffer silently.  Why do I feel such a strong urge to reach out, and lift up other grieving mothers?  Why do I feel the necessity to stand before others and yell, you are not a MEMORY, you are ALIVE, and you are MY SON.  YOU are the very reason people need to see, that LIFE is not determined by the seconds in which a heart beats on this earth!

Peace has found me, because although your body is no longer on this earth, YOU LIVE inside of me.  You gave me my purpose, you made me stronger, you made me more determined, you made me more faithful.  I will love you forever my son.   I will always carry you in my heart, and I will continue to live out your memory and purpose on this Earth. 


Till I see you again, I promise to make you proud. I love you my sweet Tristan, my angel fish.

*photo courtesy of Faith Hope Love Photography