Thursday, December 1, 2011
Santa came early
So let's see how slick this goes...
I have a whole day packed full of doctor appointments tomorrow down at Mayo in Rochester... All by myself. To help me pass the time while I wait my husband came home with a surprise.
The iPad2! I am blogging on it right now! Cool huh?
I have been aggressively playing the game Angry Birds. I even got a huge list of downloads in line waiting for some mommy and Paighton game time tomorrow night (that is if I get home from Mayo before he goes to bed). It is amazing all the things this tiny little screen can do.
Only one thing it can't do... help me with my homework! Apparently Apple and Adobe got in a huge fight over money so now Apple refuses to support Adobe-based programs. My homework and my professor's videos need Adobe flash player in order to function. Boo on that! I can't even read my textbook on the iPad. Yeah sure it isn't the end of the world, however it would have been really nice not to lug around a backpack full of heavy textbooks.
Well it sure was fun trying this out for the first time but I need to hit the bed. And hard! I have to leave at 5am!
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Close call
I am feeling very thankful tonight. Not because the days are closing in on the upcoming holiday, Thanksgiving. I have been feeling extra thankful since last week Wednesday because I was reminded how quick life can be take away from me.... again.
Last week Wednesday, I was leaving work at 5pm. I was on my way to school to study and finish some homework and quizzes I had put off until that last day due. I stopped to talk to a friend for a few minutes, when my cell phone rang. I answered and it was my husband, telling me he had just been in a car accident. Our 3-year old son was with him.
Of course I freaked and rushed on my way.
But as I was driving (which felt like forever, but was only 15 minutes away) I was replaying our phone conversation we had 5 minutes prior to the accident back to myself in my head. I was feeling guilt. Heavy guilt.
I was feeling guilt because before the accident, my husband and son were on their way home. I talked briefly to my son because I knew he would be sleeping by the time I got home from school. He was sad, begging me to come home. I tried to explain the best a person could to a 3-year old, that mommy had to stay at school. And so, I was feeling guilty here as well for not being home as much as I would like, or he would like. I told him to tell daddy to take him shopping and buy him a new movie. My husband protested, but gave in.
He turned around.
5 minutes later, he got in the accident.
Thankfully, no one was injured badly. My husband's hand was bleeding a lot, but standing out in the ditch and the ice coldness of the air stopped the bleeding. Also his wrist and ankle are sore and he has a gash on his right shin. Even more thankfully, our son wasn't even touched. The ambulance still checked him over, and as he milked the attention of the EMTs, he pouted and showed them each of his week to two week old owies that he has received from being the world's biggest daredevil and couch-jumper. He certainly gave the EMTs a laugh, and said he would be fine.
Now we have to buy a new car. Since his car was a beater, we only insured liability on it. Last time I am going to do that!
It just seems like once life gets even an ounce easier, a car wreck happens and throws you back (or even father) to where you were once before.
Sure, I can pout and grumble about how much this sucks. But would I really think of, is I am glad to have my family. I would be devastated if I received that phone call from someone else, to explain the worst possible.
So no matter how many days a week my son says "jeez, mommy, you are making me crazy" because I force him to be responsible and clean his room and eat his veggies, I love him. His catch phrases always make me laugh, even in the serious and frustrating moments.
And, of course, no matter how many times my husband says "woman, you make me crazy", I love him just as much. He knows that the only reason I pick on him, is because I like him. It all goes back to the story of two little preschoolers on the playground, pulling piggy tails and throwing dirt, only because they like each other in the special way.
So, not because it's the month of the Thanksgiving holiday, but because of an unexpected reminder... I am very thankful for the family God has given me and the family that choose to be a part of our lives.
Last week Wednesday, I was leaving work at 5pm. I was on my way to school to study and finish some homework and quizzes I had put off until that last day due. I stopped to talk to a friend for a few minutes, when my cell phone rang. I answered and it was my husband, telling me he had just been in a car accident. Our 3-year old son was with him.
Of course I freaked and rushed on my way.
But as I was driving (which felt like forever, but was only 15 minutes away) I was replaying our phone conversation we had 5 minutes prior to the accident back to myself in my head. I was feeling guilt. Heavy guilt.
I was feeling guilt because before the accident, my husband and son were on their way home. I talked briefly to my son because I knew he would be sleeping by the time I got home from school. He was sad, begging me to come home. I tried to explain the best a person could to a 3-year old, that mommy had to stay at school. And so, I was feeling guilty here as well for not being home as much as I would like, or he would like. I told him to tell daddy to take him shopping and buy him a new movie. My husband protested, but gave in.
He turned around.
5 minutes later, he got in the accident.
Thankfully, no one was injured badly. My husband's hand was bleeding a lot, but standing out in the ditch and the ice coldness of the air stopped the bleeding. Also his wrist and ankle are sore and he has a gash on his right shin. Even more thankfully, our son wasn't even touched. The ambulance still checked him over, and as he milked the attention of the EMTs, he pouted and showed them each of his week to two week old owies that he has received from being the world's biggest daredevil and couch-jumper. He certainly gave the EMTs a laugh, and said he would be fine.
Now we have to buy a new car. Since his car was a beater, we only insured liability on it. Last time I am going to do that!
It just seems like once life gets even an ounce easier, a car wreck happens and throws you back (or even father) to where you were once before.
Sure, I can pout and grumble about how much this sucks. But would I really think of, is I am glad to have my family. I would be devastated if I received that phone call from someone else, to explain the worst possible.
So no matter how many days a week my son says "jeez, mommy, you are making me crazy" because I force him to be responsible and clean his room and eat his veggies, I love him. His catch phrases always make me laugh, even in the serious and frustrating moments.
And, of course, no matter how many times my husband says "woman, you make me crazy", I love him just as much. He knows that the only reason I pick on him, is because I like him. It all goes back to the story of two little preschoolers on the playground, pulling piggy tails and throwing dirt, only because they like each other in the special way.
So, not because it's the month of the Thanksgiving holiday, but because of an unexpected reminder... I am very thankful for the family God has given me and the family that choose to be a part of our lives.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Wish
I wish you knew how I truly feel.
I wish you knew the day you stopped talking to me because you didn't know what to say... was a day of hurt and confusion.
I wish you knew how I cry myself to sleep every night. Hoping what you once said to me in the moments of friendship were really true.
I wish you knew that I am not a snob. I am climbing an uphill battle of low self-esteem.
I wish you knew that I think of you every day. Wanting to talk to you, but feeling unwelcome.
I do not wish... ever... that you might lose what I have lost.
Never.
You probably won't even read this. You don't even know that I exist.
I wish I had this a year ago to give to you...
http://www.slideshare.net/JOSHFoundation/dos-and-dontsfor-friends-of-bereaved-parents-3995619
I wish you knew the day you stopped talking to me because you didn't know what to say... was a day of hurt and confusion.
I wish you knew how I cry myself to sleep every night. Hoping what you once said to me in the moments of friendship were really true.
I wish you knew that I am not a snob. I am climbing an uphill battle of low self-esteem.
I wish you knew that I think of you every day. Wanting to talk to you, but feeling unwelcome.
I do not wish... ever... that you might lose what I have lost.
Never.
You probably won't even read this. You don't even know that I exist.
I wish I had this a year ago to give to you...
http://www.slideshare.net/JOSHFoundation/dos-and-dontsfor-friends-of-bereaved-parents-3995619
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Potty Training
We have entered into the world of potty training! Well, it has been awhile, but never seemed to stick. I think we might be getting somewhere this time. Luckily, our daycare provider wants my son to be out of diapers just as much as I do!
The one thing I am having a hard time figuring out is, why is it that he will stay dry all day at daycare, no accidents, until he gets home? He seems to fight me in everything. He wants to sit on the potty but not pull his underwear down? Or he just wants to play in the sink. He likes to drink water out of the cap belonging to his tube of toothpaste. I am very overwhelmed with how to keep his routine going easily back at home. What a lil' stinker he is being.
He has yet to do #2 though. He seems very interested in how the body works. We talked about what happens to our food when we eat it. Now, when we have dinner, he reminds me what is going to happen to the food he is putting into his mouth. It is always good to seize learning opportunities, however, I really dont want a biology lesson at each meal.
Regardless, it makes me laugh. And that is what counts!
Another funny thing Paighton has been doing to cheer me up is singing "I am a little tea pot". We dance to the words and wiggle our bodies together. He makes me laugh. I feel so proud of him for repsonding to the queues in the song; he puts his "handle" up and sticks out his "spout" just at the right time.
I really wish Elijah could be here to join in all of our fun. I bet Paighton would be singing away his little heart and teaching Elijah all about the potty.
If Elijah were here today, he would be 16 months old.
The one thing I am having a hard time figuring out is, why is it that he will stay dry all day at daycare, no accidents, until he gets home? He seems to fight me in everything. He wants to sit on the potty but not pull his underwear down? Or he just wants to play in the sink. He likes to drink water out of the cap belonging to his tube of toothpaste. I am very overwhelmed with how to keep his routine going easily back at home. What a lil' stinker he is being.
He has yet to do #2 though. He seems very interested in how the body works. We talked about what happens to our food when we eat it. Now, when we have dinner, he reminds me what is going to happen to the food he is putting into his mouth. It is always good to seize learning opportunities, however, I really dont want a biology lesson at each meal.
Regardless, it makes me laugh. And that is what counts!
Another funny thing Paighton has been doing to cheer me up is singing "I am a little tea pot". We dance to the words and wiggle our bodies together. He makes me laugh. I feel so proud of him for repsonding to the queues in the song; he puts his "handle" up and sticks out his "spout" just at the right time.
I really wish Elijah could be here to join in all of our fun. I bet Paighton would be singing away his little heart and teaching Elijah all about the potty.
If Elijah were here today, he would be 16 months old.
Monday, October 3, 2011
All in a day's work
The one magazine my eyes always scope the room for when entering the waiting lobby of a doctor's clinic is The Reader's Digest. I thoroughly enjoy reading the funny antic's, quotes, and of course, real-life mishaps. I have never subscribed to this magazine, knowingly I would never have "free-time" to read them. It's because of the convenience that I am already at the doctor's office, forced to wait, is when I read them. They brighten my mood.
I wonder if any of my daily life happenings would be "Reader Digest" worthy? Probably not, but according to my husband and a few friends, I certainly know how to cram it all in.
To give you a small recap, I am a full time wife to a very busy 'over-full time' husband, a full time mommy to a very needy, yet stubborn wants-to-be-independent three-year old, a full-time employee, and a part-time college student. Oh, and don't forget the occassional volunteering for certain causes and charities I like to help support when I can. So can my life be any more hectic? No... also forgot to mention, we are selling our house and relocating about 45-minutes away from where we live now. Phew!
Today is the start of week #7 for classes. I have survived my first 2 exams; 82% on one and the other at a 87%. Not bad, but not what I was aiming for. I am one of my worst critics. I was aiming for 95% of better... I was in such a bad mood when I saw that. I can only be upset with one person: Me.
The past two weeks I have been battling a really bad cough as well. I finally went in to the express clinic (per the pleads I kept receiving from my co-workers. Sorry guys!). I was tested for pnemonia and pertussis. No results yet, but at least I departed with a prescription for an antibiotic regardless of the test results. On a side note, the doctor and I sat in the room for a bit laughing and cringing at a giant spider dangling in the window (the other side, otherwise I would NOT have been in that room for long!) about the size of a dried apricot. It was huge! I think it helped to break the ice with the doctor and pull him away from work, and come down to a more humanly level that wasn't so professional. I like those kinds of doctors.
Speaking of doctors, my son has passed his egg allergy! YAAY! First night for dinner, we had french toast. And again later that week... and then waffles, and waffles again... I think he likes maple syrup.
With all the things to do on my plate, I am struggling to find that balance between everything. I want to spend time with my family, but I also want to be #1 in class. I am very competitive and just as failure is not an option, neither is in the middle an option for me. It just will not do. Aside from family and class, I want to accel at work. I have been so tired though. I think this is more due to being sick.
I have, though, been making sure I find enough time for sleep. Family, school and work all are at risk of my monster mood if I am tired. I set myself up to fail if I am sleepy. I am unable to recall on anything from memory if I see dancing pillows and twirly blankets in my head. Ah, the joyful comfort of my temporpedic bed! It is about five years old, but holds me tight just as well.
Thinking back on one of the (many) reasons why I wanted to go back to school and finish my double-major, I remember Elijah being just that. He is my motivation pushing me to become better in all things I know. So with that said... I find myself becoming sluggish. I am thinking about him in ways I shouldnt. I am finding myself sad again. Feeling alone and forgotten about.
Facebook should be the last place to vent about something (or should this blog be as well?), but my sister had posted a very understandle vent about her miscarriage less than a year ago. She was hurt, that at a first glance of a moment to think, our mother had counted off she has four grandchildren. She left off my sister's miscarriage...
Yes, I would be hurt too. But what I think my sister, very young sister, forgets as well, is she never talks about it. It was my persistent questions to our father that gave way to what happened. He didnt want to tell; but knew that if he didnt, she never would.
I wish she would have told me. I would have acted completlely different had I known. Even after I knew, when the topic is never brought up, I assume it's not supposed to be. I try to respect space and privacy. Same goes for another person who has had hard feelings towards me, which I am assuming stems for her own hurt of losing a baby. Maybe I did the wrong thing? Mayve I wasnt there in a way I was meant to be. How am I to know if those who need help never ask for it?
When my other younger cousin miscarried, we texted a lot back and forth; all the while keeping that distance in attempts to stay polite.
I would hope that any of my family or friends who are feeling alone; reach out to someone you can trust, and find some peace. Our problems will never go away, but we can lean on each other and make the walk a bit easier.
I am supposed to be studying right now...
But with all these thoughts and feelings circulating through my head, who can study? Not me. I am just counting down the minutes to when my husband walks through that door with (fingers corssed) a happy preschooler showing off his new letter her learned today.
Can you tell my thoughts are very unorganized today? I can always tell myself when I write as if I am talking to a physical person sitting in front of me. I think its healthy to talk to yourself, to an extent.
I surpass that extent every day. Oops :)
I wonder if any of my daily life happenings would be "Reader Digest" worthy? Probably not, but according to my husband and a few friends, I certainly know how to cram it all in.
To give you a small recap, I am a full time wife to a very busy 'over-full time' husband, a full time mommy to a very needy, yet stubborn wants-to-be-independent three-year old, a full-time employee, and a part-time college student. Oh, and don't forget the occassional volunteering for certain causes and charities I like to help support when I can. So can my life be any more hectic? No... also forgot to mention, we are selling our house and relocating about 45-minutes away from where we live now. Phew!
Today is the start of week #7 for classes. I have survived my first 2 exams; 82% on one and the other at a 87%. Not bad, but not what I was aiming for. I am one of my worst critics. I was aiming for 95% of better... I was in such a bad mood when I saw that. I can only be upset with one person: Me.
The past two weeks I have been battling a really bad cough as well. I finally went in to the express clinic (per the pleads I kept receiving from my co-workers. Sorry guys!). I was tested for pnemonia and pertussis. No results yet, but at least I departed with a prescription for an antibiotic regardless of the test results. On a side note, the doctor and I sat in the room for a bit laughing and cringing at a giant spider dangling in the window (the other side, otherwise I would NOT have been in that room for long!) about the size of a dried apricot. It was huge! I think it helped to break the ice with the doctor and pull him away from work, and come down to a more humanly level that wasn't so professional. I like those kinds of doctors.
Speaking of doctors, my son has passed his egg allergy! YAAY! First night for dinner, we had french toast. And again later that week... and then waffles, and waffles again... I think he likes maple syrup.
With all the things to do on my plate, I am struggling to find that balance between everything. I want to spend time with my family, but I also want to be #1 in class. I am very competitive and just as failure is not an option, neither is in the middle an option for me. It just will not do. Aside from family and class, I want to accel at work. I have been so tired though. I think this is more due to being sick.
I have, though, been making sure I find enough time for sleep. Family, school and work all are at risk of my monster mood if I am tired. I set myself up to fail if I am sleepy. I am unable to recall on anything from memory if I see dancing pillows and twirly blankets in my head. Ah, the joyful comfort of my temporpedic bed! It is about five years old, but holds me tight just as well.
Thinking back on one of the (many) reasons why I wanted to go back to school and finish my double-major, I remember Elijah being just that. He is my motivation pushing me to become better in all things I know. So with that said... I find myself becoming sluggish. I am thinking about him in ways I shouldnt. I am finding myself sad again. Feeling alone and forgotten about.
Facebook should be the last place to vent about something (or should this blog be as well?), but my sister had posted a very understandle vent about her miscarriage less than a year ago. She was hurt, that at a first glance of a moment to think, our mother had counted off she has four grandchildren. She left off my sister's miscarriage...
Yes, I would be hurt too. But what I think my sister, very young sister, forgets as well, is she never talks about it. It was my persistent questions to our father that gave way to what happened. He didnt want to tell; but knew that if he didnt, she never would.
I wish she would have told me. I would have acted completlely different had I known. Even after I knew, when the topic is never brought up, I assume it's not supposed to be. I try to respect space and privacy. Same goes for another person who has had hard feelings towards me, which I am assuming stems for her own hurt of losing a baby. Maybe I did the wrong thing? Mayve I wasnt there in a way I was meant to be. How am I to know if those who need help never ask for it?
When my other younger cousin miscarried, we texted a lot back and forth; all the while keeping that distance in attempts to stay polite.
I would hope that any of my family or friends who are feeling alone; reach out to someone you can trust, and find some peace. Our problems will never go away, but we can lean on each other and make the walk a bit easier.
I am supposed to be studying right now...
But with all these thoughts and feelings circulating through my head, who can study? Not me. I am just counting down the minutes to when my husband walks through that door with (fingers corssed) a happy preschooler showing off his new letter her learned today.
Can you tell my thoughts are very unorganized today? I can always tell myself when I write as if I am talking to a physical person sitting in front of me. I think its healthy to talk to yourself, to an extent.
I surpass that extent every day. Oops :)
Friday, September 16, 2011
Team Elijah!
Tomorrow my family, friends and I will being walking at the annual Kaila & Grace's Hope and Hearts Run/Walk to benefit and support The Missing Grace Foundation in Coon Rapids, Minnesota!!
We are doing this in memory of our beloved Baby Elijah, and all other babies that had left this world and had gone home early.
I am a bit saddend, of course. I much rather Elijah just be here with me.
Until my day, sweet baby boy... I will hold you in my arms once again. Mommy loves you...
Monday, August 29, 2011
Change of speed
What is my current speed? FAST!
I thought I was busy before, but now I am super busy. Maybe I can take on the label of being a super-mom? Only with the help of my amazing husband am I able to continue to work my full-time job and go to school (part-time, of course).
I feel so blessed that I am able to get back into, college that is. After losing Elijah, I felt like my life was so worthless and pointless. I needed to do something with myself because, frankly, I was becoming a little lazy.
I am taking up two different economics classes: micro and macro. One is online and the other on-campus. They are both with the same professor, which is why I registered for both. I was initially going to just take one class to "get my feet wet", so to speak, but I really wanted one more. So when I saw the second open up, with the same professor, I immediately thought it was a great benefit because I wouldn't have to struggle with different styles and personalities. Just one.
Though the concepts seem simple enough; it's the math I am stumbling over. Which is very odd for me, considering my weird love for math (I kept my college algebra and pre-calc book to work problems out of it for "fun"). Hey! Don't judge me. Maybe I am thinking into it too much. Another thing I think I am digging a hole in on my online discussion boards. I ramble on too much; taking a very simple concept and twist it until it becomes my own. Not to mention it is wrong. I got called out on it; and yes, he did have a valid point, but I had dug myself so far into complexity I was still stubborn in thinking I was right. So I commented back; I am still right (even though I know deep down, I am wrong but can't admit it). Whatever.
My life always moved at the speed of busy. Even though I have added two more plates to my table, I don't feel any more stressed (or so not yet). I am looking forward to the change of priorities. The number one I am going to miss the most though is spending time with my husband and son. Yet, again like I have mentioned before, I am putting myself through all of this to better OUR quality of life. Elijah is not here with me, and I want him to be so much, but he can't. So I have to live the best life I possibly can in honor of his life that had been taken away so soon.
Last week, my husband and I attended a funeral visitation for the youngest person we know (aside from our own Elijah's). His name was Peter; a tiny little teacher. He was 6 years old and ever-so the cutest boy. Many on you who have followed Elijah's story may remember how we came to know him in the way we do. Mary Kellett; founder of Prenatal Partner's for Life. I was so desperate to find anyone who would help save my little boy and Mary was the only one who would listen. In fact, she pushed me to listen. I was in a dark deep world and she helped me to cope. Because of Mary, she put us in touch with Sustaining Grace; who gave us the gift of 3D/4D ultrasound and a teddy to hold his heartbeat.
It was Mary's little boy, Peter, that had passed away. I was so upset, knowing what an amazing woman she is in taking care of her own 11 children and all the families and mothers that come to her for support in their own child loss. She is amazing.
Mary had asked us to stay and speak so that her friends and family could she just exactly what it is that Prenatal Partners for Life actually does. I did... through my tears and nervousness of public speaking... I did. For her.
So in closing, I want all my friends and family, to now turn your prayers towards Mary and her family as they go down their own path of sorrow.
Peter's life was short; but he has already accomplished so much. He gave me the opportunity to know my son, Elijah.
His work is just getting started...
For more information, please visit www.prenatalpartnersforlife.org and www.sustaininggrace.org or visit them on Facebook.
Please consider donating (or sending memorials to Mary) to keep Peter's, Elijah's, and Grace's legacies live on.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Belated
July sure has been the month for birthdays! Phew! How many can I keep up with? If I truly have inherited anything from my grandmother, I sure hope it is her born talent of remember 100+ birthdays in one single year. She must be hiding a Rolodex somewhere; yet if we are taking she will casually mention "oh, did you know it is so-an-so's birthday today?" Yes, grandma. I totally knew that (not).
She sure is one to be inspired by; and not just for her ability to remember birthdays.
This birthday wish tonight is for a particular special birthday; Baby Grace. For those who are unfamiliar with Baby Grace, she is the special someone who sparked the creation of Sustaining Grace (http://www.sustaininggrage.org/) and made it happen so that my family and I could have a free 3D/4D ultrasound of our little Elijah.
Although I did not blog about it on the actual day which was July 24th; it was in my mind constantly. Paighton and I even wished Baby Grace a happy birthday on Sunday. When we were done, he gave "Baby Grace" a hug and kiss. Baby Grace is a teddy bear that he had named. And no, I had nothing to do with it. He did it all on his own. It is a very small off-white teddy bear; his very first actually. It came all the way from Greece and was given to him before he was born by my dear friend Krystle. I have always called it Teddy Greece. About six months ago he started to correct me; "no mommy, Baby Grace". I was confused for a few nights, as we argued about it each time and then it dawn on me. Ah-ha! Baby Grace it is then.
She sure is one to be inspired by; and not just for her ability to remember birthdays.
This birthday wish tonight is for a particular special birthday; Baby Grace. For those who are unfamiliar with Baby Grace, she is the special someone who sparked the creation of Sustaining Grace (http://www.sustaininggrage.org/) and made it happen so that my family and I could have a free 3D/4D ultrasound of our little Elijah.
Although I did not blog about it on the actual day which was July 24th; it was in my mind constantly. Paighton and I even wished Baby Grace a happy birthday on Sunday. When we were done, he gave "Baby Grace" a hug and kiss. Baby Grace is a teddy bear that he had named. And no, I had nothing to do with it. He did it all on his own. It is a very small off-white teddy bear; his very first actually. It came all the way from Greece and was given to him before he was born by my dear friend Krystle. I have always called it Teddy Greece. About six months ago he started to correct me; "no mommy, Baby Grace". I was confused for a few nights, as we argued about it each time and then it dawn on me. Ah-ha! Baby Grace it is then.
I still catch him alone in his room singing "happy birthday cake" to Elijah and Danica; his two most favorite people to sing to.
Grace's birthday is certainly one for me to be thankful for always. Without her life, I would never have been able to know my little Elijah the way I do today. I would never been able to hear his tiny little heart whenever I want, without the strong little beats of her own heart.
Grace, for that, I thank you.
I thank you for being there for Elijah. I am sure by now you both have pulled up your heavenly shirts to compare belly buttons. I am sure you both have made heavenly mud pies, eaten heavenly worms, and colored all over the Pearly Gates with magic crayons.
To have those images in my mind makes me smile and laugh because I surely know had he done it down here on Earth, this mommy would have panicked. But don't worry, Paighton is doing enough coloring on non-paper items, nude streaking, and eating worms (Ramen noodles) to cover for the both of you. Now he is walking around the house commenting "what the heck?"
I keep telling myself that we as parents have lost our sweet babies so soon for a reason. I think about it everyday, and pretty much every minute of the day also. It consumes me. It leaves me ruminating...
Whatever the reasons are, know that I am glad to have know Elijah and Grace for the short amount of time I was given here on Earth. Maybe God thought that we only needed that amount of time because they were going to make such a big impact. It can take years to develop a relationship or friendship with any one person in order for it to make a huge impact. These two little angels only needed a second. I am thankful for the 27 weeks I was given to carry him within me. I am thankful for the 15 minutes I was given to hold him and the two-plus hours he lived to meet his family.
Although, I certainly could have lived with more time... It wouldn't have hurt any...
So Happy Birthday Baby Grace. May your life accomplish much more and your heart touch many more hearts in the years to come.
With Love Always,
Elijah's Mommy
Friday, July 22, 2011
More cake, please.
The best things in life are, well, whatever makes us happy. Right? Now people can actually get into debates regarding what is the best thing in life; children, family, mocha lattes, laughter, or even money. Depending on who you are, and what is most important to you. Freedom to choose; maybe that's the best thing in life?
I am reminded just now of the movie City of Angels. Now I used to be a huge Nicholas Cage fan, especially when that movie was released, but not so much anymore. However, it is still a really great movie. As sad as it is, I like the scene where Cage's character is waiting along side a little girl unseen as doctors fight furiously to save her life. As he and the little girl walk away to go "home", he asks her what the best part (of life) was. She answered without a tone of doubt in her voice "pajamas". I like pajames too...
Now no matter what we have chosen for ourselves at the moment as the best thing in life (because of course it is always changing from one mood to the next), it is never ending. We as human beings always want more, regardless if it is good or bad. We work because we want more money. We want more money because we want a bigger house, or perhaps more family vacations. We want more family vacations because we want more time with the people we love.
We want more time with people we love because those people will not be here with us forever.
So maybe I was wrong, my best thing in life can come to an end.
Nevertheless, the question is always "more please?". I love hearing my little boy ask "more pweese!" with more of a demanding tone than asking. We are working on it :) Right now I want him to go potty on the big toilet and tootsie rolls are my bribes and his rewards of choice. For some reason he believes the only toilet he can use is the one at daycare. Silly boy.
I wonder if his 3-year old mind (well almost 3, next month!) would be able to understand the question "what's the best part of life?" I would not be surprised if he yelled out tootsie rolls, or perhaps "Nay Nay". He cannot pronounce his own name, which is Paighton, so he calls himself Nay Nay. I have been teaching him to think of himself as perfect. I know that may be a little weird, but it is important to me. Growing up, I had a lot of self esteem issues and was very cruelly teased by some of my classmates. I do not want him to experience what I had to go through, in a Christian school might I add! I ask him once in awhile if he is perfect. He always responds yes. Or if I rephrase the question, asking "who is perfect?" and he slams his tiny little hand on his chest and says "Nay Nay!" with great confidence. I am proud that he loves himself.
My little boy is perfect! Both of them...
Going still along the topic of more, like I had mentioned before that more isn't always a good thing. If you think for a second, somewhere around the world there is at least one baby being born every second. That's a lot of babies. But with life comes, too, death. There is always something about to happen whether death by accident, or death by old age. Neither of which are easy especially for those of us that are left behind trying to find answers of why.
I would like to think that the Circle of Life flowed as such: for every baby that is a born, a very old and well lived adult passes away. The Bible speaks of people with ages well over 100, even more. I'd like to see all people all over be given the chance to have lived a full life. Anything short of 90 I think is too soon. 89 perhaps? Nope, still too soon...
I learned yesterday of a little girl's birthday tomorrow. Another case of Triploidy. Only thing here is she was even more uncommon than my little Elijah. See, back in 1996 Triploidy was not heard of by very many doctors. Even the specialists didn't know much about it. Still to this day, my doctors didn't seem to know much except that fact that Triploidy is life threatening and babies cannot live outside of their mothers' wombs. Most die within; very few make it just in time to say hello. My doctors didn't want anything to do with me. In fact, I feel they tricked me into inducing early. They said I was severely preclamptic and very sick. Sure I didn't feel well, but I didn't think I was that sick. After everything was said and done, a few weeks later I received the doctors' final reports, we had requested this. In it I read "mild preclampsia". It wasn't until half a year later did it hit me, wait... they lied to me! I could have, and would have, continued longer with the pregnancy. I wanted to reach Elijah's due date, or at least get to August. August is a very special month for my family as it is when we got married, bought our first house, and Paighton was born. We even planned Elijah's conception to make his birthday fall somewhere in August.
So tomorrow is a birthday; on July 23rd 1996 a little girl named Sarah Jayne reached her due date; a huge triumph for any Triploidy baby. Sadly she was stillborn on this date, but she still deserves a birthday.
Tomorrow I will teach Paighton to sing "Happy birthday cake Baby Sarah" to honor another small wonder taken too soon but loved forever. He loves singing and most of all he loves birthday cake!
~My son Elijah, You have more friends with you than I know.
Mommy and Daddy loves you...~
I am reminded just now of the movie City of Angels. Now I used to be a huge Nicholas Cage fan, especially when that movie was released, but not so much anymore. However, it is still a really great movie. As sad as it is, I like the scene where Cage's character is waiting along side a little girl unseen as doctors fight furiously to save her life. As he and the little girl walk away to go "home", he asks her what the best part (of life) was. She answered without a tone of doubt in her voice "pajamas". I like pajames too...
Now no matter what we have chosen for ourselves at the moment as the best thing in life (because of course it is always changing from one mood to the next), it is never ending. We as human beings always want more, regardless if it is good or bad. We work because we want more money. We want more money because we want a bigger house, or perhaps more family vacations. We want more family vacations because we want more time with the people we love.
We want more time with people we love because those people will not be here with us forever.
So maybe I was wrong, my best thing in life can come to an end.
Nevertheless, the question is always "more please?". I love hearing my little boy ask "more pweese!" with more of a demanding tone than asking. We are working on it :) Right now I want him to go potty on the big toilet and tootsie rolls are my bribes and his rewards of choice. For some reason he believes the only toilet he can use is the one at daycare. Silly boy.
I wonder if his 3-year old mind (well almost 3, next month!) would be able to understand the question "what's the best part of life?" I would not be surprised if he yelled out tootsie rolls, or perhaps "Nay Nay". He cannot pronounce his own name, which is Paighton, so he calls himself Nay Nay. I have been teaching him to think of himself as perfect. I know that may be a little weird, but it is important to me. Growing up, I had a lot of self esteem issues and was very cruelly teased by some of my classmates. I do not want him to experience what I had to go through, in a Christian school might I add! I ask him once in awhile if he is perfect. He always responds yes. Or if I rephrase the question, asking "who is perfect?" and he slams his tiny little hand on his chest and says "Nay Nay!" with great confidence. I am proud that he loves himself.
My little boy is perfect! Both of them...
Going still along the topic of more, like I had mentioned before that more isn't always a good thing. If you think for a second, somewhere around the world there is at least one baby being born every second. That's a lot of babies. But with life comes, too, death. There is always something about to happen whether death by accident, or death by old age. Neither of which are easy especially for those of us that are left behind trying to find answers of why.
I would like to think that the Circle of Life flowed as such: for every baby that is a born, a very old and well lived adult passes away. The Bible speaks of people with ages well over 100, even more. I'd like to see all people all over be given the chance to have lived a full life. Anything short of 90 I think is too soon. 89 perhaps? Nope, still too soon...
I learned yesterday of a little girl's birthday tomorrow. Another case of Triploidy. Only thing here is she was even more uncommon than my little Elijah. See, back in 1996 Triploidy was not heard of by very many doctors. Even the specialists didn't know much about it. Still to this day, my doctors didn't seem to know much except that fact that Triploidy is life threatening and babies cannot live outside of their mothers' wombs. Most die within; very few make it just in time to say hello. My doctors didn't want anything to do with me. In fact, I feel they tricked me into inducing early. They said I was severely preclamptic and very sick. Sure I didn't feel well, but I didn't think I was that sick. After everything was said and done, a few weeks later I received the doctors' final reports, we had requested this. In it I read "mild preclampsia". It wasn't until half a year later did it hit me, wait... they lied to me! I could have, and would have, continued longer with the pregnancy. I wanted to reach Elijah's due date, or at least get to August. August is a very special month for my family as it is when we got married, bought our first house, and Paighton was born. We even planned Elijah's conception to make his birthday fall somewhere in August.
So tomorrow is a birthday; on July 23rd 1996 a little girl named Sarah Jayne reached her due date; a huge triumph for any Triploidy baby. Sadly she was stillborn on this date, but she still deserves a birthday.
Tomorrow I will teach Paighton to sing "Happy birthday cake Baby Sarah" to honor another small wonder taken too soon but loved forever. He loves singing and most of all he loves birthday cake!
~My son Elijah, You have more friends with you than I know.
Mommy and Daddy loves you...~
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Loss from a Distance
Although not close personally; it feels all too close to home. Too close for comfort.
I got word today that a co-worker lost her 3-year old last night. My first emotion was anger. "It's not fair" I said to my manager as she attempted to brace me before an email was to be sent out to our team.
I have followed little Emerson's Caring Bridge site the day I came across it; a week after we found out about Elijah's condition.
In a way, I lived, and cheered on the sidelines, for Elijah through Emerson. He didn't run the race like Emerson did; was never given the chance. I feel like I have failed him for not opting to provide breathing tubes and extreme life saving measures. I was so blinded by medical terms and doctors. I was so numb I couldn't even feel love for myself.
I am going to keep this short. I just really don't have very many words right now.
Please pass and share Emerson's Caring Bridge site and provide as many prayers as one can possibly pray.
www.caringbridge.org/visit/emersonm
"A thousand words cannot bring you back; I know because I tried. And neither can a million tears. I know because I cried." - Author Unknown
Baby Elijah - Mommy thinks of you every day. I miss you....
I got word today that a co-worker lost her 3-year old last night. My first emotion was anger. "It's not fair" I said to my manager as she attempted to brace me before an email was to be sent out to our team.
I have followed little Emerson's Caring Bridge site the day I came across it; a week after we found out about Elijah's condition.
In a way, I lived, and cheered on the sidelines, for Elijah through Emerson. He didn't run the race like Emerson did; was never given the chance. I feel like I have failed him for not opting to provide breathing tubes and extreme life saving measures. I was so blinded by medical terms and doctors. I was so numb I couldn't even feel love for myself.
I am going to keep this short. I just really don't have very many words right now.
Please pass and share Emerson's Caring Bridge site and provide as many prayers as one can possibly pray.
www.caringbridge.org/visit/emersonm
"A thousand words cannot bring you back; I know because I tried. And neither can a million tears. I know because I cried." - Author Unknown
Baby Elijah - Mommy thinks of you every day. I miss you....
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Happy Birthday Cake
May 31st, 2011 marks the date of a great milestone. A little boy's first birthday.
Usually for most 1-year olds there are gifts and the smashing of a brightly colored cake and a showered burst of air to blow out a single candle; that is if it isn't put out with the grasp of five sticky fingers first.
As I look back on the year, I try to imagine what my house would sound like as I stand in the kitchen cooking dinner for three instead of four. With my soon-to-be 3-ear old, I can't imagine it could get any louder.
My husband and I have gone through a lot in one year, and although most people have told us "it will get better" and "it will only make us stronger", I am not sure we have made it to that point yet. It is easier talking about Elijah, but stronger? Not so sure.
On Saturday, we did have a birthday party for Elijah. We asked our guests to bring a gift that would be donated to an organization called New Beginnings here in St Cloud. Their mission is to help young teen girls who have children or are pregnant. I truly believe in their mission and hope that the girls going through their program understand just how precious the little lives that they hold in their hands really are. I have yet to drop things off; life is so unpredictably busy. I think I may need a personal assistant!
As we prepared Saturday morning for the small birthday party, my toddler knew something special was going on. We do talk to him about Baby Elijah and look at his pictures and his pajamas we have sitting next to the urn. He says "Baby Elijah" so beautifully, it makes my heart melt.
It was very difficult trying to get him down for his afternoon nap; he didn't sleep a wink. I had to bribe him to just lay down and stay in his room without screaming. The bribe? Dairy Queen birthday cake.
Our first guests, my mom and Grandmother Faye arrived. I went into Paighton's room to tell him grandma was here and he could be done with his idea of a 'nap'. He ran full speed down the hallway and into the kitchen yelling "cake". Not so much as a "hello" for any of us. It was a sight to see.
We had the gifts laid out on the table for display next to a photo album, the start of my scrapbook for Elijah, and handmade thank you cards. I got a little choked up when my Grandma Faye hugged me as if she was never going to let go. I hid in my bedroom closet for about a minute or two to blow off some emotions. It was bittersweet to see all these baby items in my kitchen; things that Paighton has grown out of but Elijah would be using right now. I pressed a key on a little piano rattle to hear its quick melody. I pictured a chubby little boy bouncing to its rhythm.
Later in the evening after everyone had gone, I brought out more ice cream cake for a late snack. As we were waiting for Daddy to cut it, Paighton bounced around singing "Happy birthday cake. Happy birthday cake Baby Elijah. Happy birthday cake". I couldn't ask for a better song. I was so impressed and proud of my silly toddler to have remembered not only his version of the words, but Elijah's name. I squeezed him tightly and sang along with him.
I know that my son is not here with me physically, but I am always looking for those signs that he is here with me in spirit. As weird as that may sound to some, I yearn for something of his presence.
This past Memorial weekend I spent most of my time remembering my little boy, whom I have held in my arms for a little over 15 minutes, and the large footprint he has left in my heart. I also remembered other family and friends who I miss very much: friend Jennifer, friend Danica, Grandpa V, cousins Josh and Jhase, and other Baby Angels I have come to know.
"Say not, in grief, that you have gone; but give thanks that you were ours"
Usually for most 1-year olds there are gifts and the smashing of a brightly colored cake and a showered burst of air to blow out a single candle; that is if it isn't put out with the grasp of five sticky fingers first.
As I look back on the year, I try to imagine what my house would sound like as I stand in the kitchen cooking dinner for three instead of four. With my soon-to-be 3-ear old, I can't imagine it could get any louder.
My husband and I have gone through a lot in one year, and although most people have told us "it will get better" and "it will only make us stronger", I am not sure we have made it to that point yet. It is easier talking about Elijah, but stronger? Not so sure.
On Saturday, we did have a birthday party for Elijah. We asked our guests to bring a gift that would be donated to an organization called New Beginnings here in St Cloud. Their mission is to help young teen girls who have children or are pregnant. I truly believe in their mission and hope that the girls going through their program understand just how precious the little lives that they hold in their hands really are. I have yet to drop things off; life is so unpredictably busy. I think I may need a personal assistant!
As we prepared Saturday morning for the small birthday party, my toddler knew something special was going on. We do talk to him about Baby Elijah and look at his pictures and his pajamas we have sitting next to the urn. He says "Baby Elijah" so beautifully, it makes my heart melt.
It was very difficult trying to get him down for his afternoon nap; he didn't sleep a wink. I had to bribe him to just lay down and stay in his room without screaming. The bribe? Dairy Queen birthday cake.
Our first guests, my mom and Grandmother Faye arrived. I went into Paighton's room to tell him grandma was here and he could be done with his idea of a 'nap'. He ran full speed down the hallway and into the kitchen yelling "cake". Not so much as a "hello" for any of us. It was a sight to see.
We had the gifts laid out on the table for display next to a photo album, the start of my scrapbook for Elijah, and handmade thank you cards. I got a little choked up when my Grandma Faye hugged me as if she was never going to let go. I hid in my bedroom closet for about a minute or two to blow off some emotions. It was bittersweet to see all these baby items in my kitchen; things that Paighton has grown out of but Elijah would be using right now. I pressed a key on a little piano rattle to hear its quick melody. I pictured a chubby little boy bouncing to its rhythm.
Later in the evening after everyone had gone, I brought out more ice cream cake for a late snack. As we were waiting for Daddy to cut it, Paighton bounced around singing "Happy birthday cake. Happy birthday cake Baby Elijah. Happy birthday cake". I couldn't ask for a better song. I was so impressed and proud of my silly toddler to have remembered not only his version of the words, but Elijah's name. I squeezed him tightly and sang along with him.
I know that my son is not here with me physically, but I am always looking for those signs that he is here with me in spirit. As weird as that may sound to some, I yearn for something of his presence.
This past Memorial weekend I spent most of my time remembering my little boy, whom I have held in my arms for a little over 15 minutes, and the large footprint he has left in my heart. I also remembered other family and friends who I miss very much: friend Jennifer, friend Danica, Grandpa V, cousins Josh and Jhase, and other Baby Angels I have come to know.
"Say not, in grief, that you have gone; but give thanks that you were ours"
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Mayo
The past week I have been spending time down at the Mayo clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. I have yet to go again next Monday and Wednesday. Will there be more? I am sure of it.
My time spent there has allowed me to be alone with my own thoughts while sitting between appointments. The days are exhausting, and emotionally trying.
As I sit waiting for my little pager, given to me by the doctor's receptionist, to vibrate I look around the lobby at the masses of other people waiting for their own answers.
I have seen many people walking and being pushed in wheelchairs wearing blue medical masks. I am assuming they either have cancer or some other autoimmune disease that makes them very much at risk of getting sick. I have also seen two little girls with a circular plastic piece and wires coming out of the back of their heads and going down to their ears. Hearing aids of some sort I am assuming.
The one that caught my attention the most: a little baby boy no more than six months of age wearing a feeding tubing running to his nose. My heart sank. His parents? A young couple with endearing looks of love for their baby upon their faces as the daddy struggled with the car seat straps in preparation to board the parking ramp's elevator.
Another; on Thursday after my last appointment, I was in the bathroom washing my hands when a lady walked in with a rush of urgency in her body language. continued to wash and dry as I talked with my cousin. I could hear her crying. I could hear her trying to hold her breath in hope she was being unheard from others. I felt frozen. My cousin inched for the doors, unnoticed by the weeps coming from the stall. I felt as if I couldn't just leave her in there to cry alone; but I did. When I walked out, I did see a woman standing there as if she were waiting for a friend to come out of the bathroom. I felt a small sense of relief knowing the weeping woman was not alone. I noticed as we readied ourselves to leave for home, the bathrooms were near the Breast Center. It dawned on me. She must have just been told moments prior she had cancer.
I wish I would have stayed back to give her a hug at least. But would that have been too much for her at the moment? Or perhaps just plain weird? Let's hope this is a situation for "it's the thought that counts", even though she is completely unaware of my thoughts.
The Mayo is an amazing place. For the most part, the employees, doctors and students finishing up their residencies, are all very pleasant and show they truly care and want to help. However I did have one doctor answer his cell phone and leave the room, twice, without an simple "excuse me". That was a little annoying.
So next week, Monday, I have three tests to complete. One is called a Thermoregulatory Sweat Test. The others are an EMG and Abdominal Fat Aspiration. On Wednesday I have one test called Autonomic Reflex Testing. I am very nervous about the EMG and Fat Aspiration tests. They do not sound pleasant at all.
All of these tests are related to nerves and the ability for my nerves to send messages to my brain; and for my brain to accurately translate those messages being sent. Well that is how I understood it anyways.
To give you a little insight, on Friday, the Neurologist tested parts of my body with two tools to see if I could tell the difference in temperature. One was cold, the other hot. Now this hot is very hot. As hot as a cattle prod, I am assuming of course. He first placed the scorching 'hot plate' as I call it, onto my left cheek and asked me what I felt. Unaware of anything he was about to do, I jumped and yelled out at him, that yes it's very hot and to not do that again. He laughed, certainly because he knew in his own mind he was about to do it again, and again. As he placed the two tools, I could feel the hot and cold, only thing was my legs and feet. Some spots it was just warm, some I did not feel it at all. That would explain why I am able to bathe in near boiling water yet my husband refuses to stick his hand in it.
I do not know why I feel, or don't feel in some circumstances, the way I do. This has been something I have been trying to get answers to for a long time. I just want to feel normal again and have the energy, without the pain of simply standing, to run around with my son. After one day of walking around the Mayo, my feet wouldn't even fit in my shoes. I drove back home shoeless that night.
Now that I am home for the weekend, I have been enjoying time with my little booger. Not the icky kind for your information! My little booger, almost a whole three years old, that reminds me every minute of the day of the fun he is having. He never misses a beat. He tells stories of his grandparents, stories of watering trees outside with daddy, and even reminds me of his bedtime routine making sure nothing is out of place.
This morning I heard him in the kitchen arguing with my husband about his breakfast choices. He kept repeating a two-syllable word neither of us could figure out. He then went on to explain his alien language by pulling my mom's name into the topic. Light bulb!
Last weekend was my nephew's fourth birthday and we had sloppy joes. My son insisted without backing down an inch that we have to go to grandma's for sloppy joes. We came to a compromised and made sloppy joes at home for lunch. He gleamed with joy at each bite. He even disciplined his daddy for making a mess. My husband's joe was very sloppy and kept falling out the bottom of his hamburger bun.
After lunch, we went out to St. Joseph to visit Thomsen's Greenhouse. It was very important for me to attend because there was a woman out there who had started something called "Baby Gardens" in memory of her daughter Libby who's heart had stopped beating at about 30 weeks. She was selling these "Baby Gardens" to pass on the proceeds to March of Dimes. How amazing, I had thought.
When we got there, I didn't see anything right away, so we just meandered looking at the plants. I attempted to get my son to smell some flowers, he just yelled out a big NO! He was more interested in the garden decorations and ornaments; not to mention we had already ignored the fact that it was past naptime.
I eventually found Libby's mom and her Baby Gardens. She had pictures of Libby displayed. As she talked with me, I got a little choked up. I couldn't steer my eyes away from Libby's tiny feet cradled in the hands of her parents. What stopped the flood gates from unleashing everything I have, was a woman from a women's' blog forum. She came up to say hi right as I was about to flee. I am just thankful I was able to pull out of it. I feel like such a dork sometimes, but seriously! I tear up at the smallest things! Sometimes I wonder if I even have a shut-off valve.
So we walked away with two Baby Gardens. One for Libby, and one for my Elijah.
Another thing I have, or will be doing, in honor of my sweet Elijah is going on with my life. Pushing to be greater than I am and to never stop. I do not have an end goal because I do not want to end. I am going back to school for starters. I started a double major in Accounting and Finance before my first son was born. I want to finish this. I do not like the feeling of things left undone. After school, who knows what is next? I want to create the best future for my son and any other children I may have. I want them to be great people.
Every day from now on, I am dedicating anything and all that I do in honor of my family; my husband and my sons.
Nothing else matters except the love we all have for each other. We do not need anything, or anyone, else.
Enough said.
My time spent there has allowed me to be alone with my own thoughts while sitting between appointments. The days are exhausting, and emotionally trying.
As I sit waiting for my little pager, given to me by the doctor's receptionist, to vibrate I look around the lobby at the masses of other people waiting for their own answers.
I have seen many people walking and being pushed in wheelchairs wearing blue medical masks. I am assuming they either have cancer or some other autoimmune disease that makes them very much at risk of getting sick. I have also seen two little girls with a circular plastic piece and wires coming out of the back of their heads and going down to their ears. Hearing aids of some sort I am assuming.
The one that caught my attention the most: a little baby boy no more than six months of age wearing a feeding tubing running to his nose. My heart sank. His parents? A young couple with endearing looks of love for their baby upon their faces as the daddy struggled with the car seat straps in preparation to board the parking ramp's elevator.
Another; on Thursday after my last appointment, I was in the bathroom washing my hands when a lady walked in with a rush of urgency in her body language. continued to wash and dry as I talked with my cousin. I could hear her crying. I could hear her trying to hold her breath in hope she was being unheard from others. I felt frozen. My cousin inched for the doors, unnoticed by the weeps coming from the stall. I felt as if I couldn't just leave her in there to cry alone; but I did. When I walked out, I did see a woman standing there as if she were waiting for a friend to come out of the bathroom. I felt a small sense of relief knowing the weeping woman was not alone. I noticed as we readied ourselves to leave for home, the bathrooms were near the Breast Center. It dawned on me. She must have just been told moments prior she had cancer.
I wish I would have stayed back to give her a hug at least. But would that have been too much for her at the moment? Or perhaps just plain weird? Let's hope this is a situation for "it's the thought that counts", even though she is completely unaware of my thoughts.
The Mayo is an amazing place. For the most part, the employees, doctors and students finishing up their residencies, are all very pleasant and show they truly care and want to help. However I did have one doctor answer his cell phone and leave the room, twice, without an simple "excuse me". That was a little annoying.
So next week, Monday, I have three tests to complete. One is called a Thermoregulatory Sweat Test. The others are an EMG and Abdominal Fat Aspiration. On Wednesday I have one test called Autonomic Reflex Testing. I am very nervous about the EMG and Fat Aspiration tests. They do not sound pleasant at all.
All of these tests are related to nerves and the ability for my nerves to send messages to my brain; and for my brain to accurately translate those messages being sent. Well that is how I understood it anyways.
To give you a little insight, on Friday, the Neurologist tested parts of my body with two tools to see if I could tell the difference in temperature. One was cold, the other hot. Now this hot is very hot. As hot as a cattle prod, I am assuming of course. He first placed the scorching 'hot plate' as I call it, onto my left cheek and asked me what I felt. Unaware of anything he was about to do, I jumped and yelled out at him, that yes it's very hot and to not do that again. He laughed, certainly because he knew in his own mind he was about to do it again, and again. As he placed the two tools, I could feel the hot and cold, only thing was my legs and feet. Some spots it was just warm, some I did not feel it at all. That would explain why I am able to bathe in near boiling water yet my husband refuses to stick his hand in it.
I do not know why I feel, or don't feel in some circumstances, the way I do. This has been something I have been trying to get answers to for a long time. I just want to feel normal again and have the energy, without the pain of simply standing, to run around with my son. After one day of walking around the Mayo, my feet wouldn't even fit in my shoes. I drove back home shoeless that night.
Now that I am home for the weekend, I have been enjoying time with my little booger. Not the icky kind for your information! My little booger, almost a whole three years old, that reminds me every minute of the day of the fun he is having. He never misses a beat. He tells stories of his grandparents, stories of watering trees outside with daddy, and even reminds me of his bedtime routine making sure nothing is out of place.
This morning I heard him in the kitchen arguing with my husband about his breakfast choices. He kept repeating a two-syllable word neither of us could figure out. He then went on to explain his alien language by pulling my mom's name into the topic. Light bulb!
Last weekend was my nephew's fourth birthday and we had sloppy joes. My son insisted without backing down an inch that we have to go to grandma's for sloppy joes. We came to a compromised and made sloppy joes at home for lunch. He gleamed with joy at each bite. He even disciplined his daddy for making a mess. My husband's joe was very sloppy and kept falling out the bottom of his hamburger bun.
After lunch, we went out to St. Joseph to visit Thomsen's Greenhouse. It was very important for me to attend because there was a woman out there who had started something called "Baby Gardens" in memory of her daughter Libby who's heart had stopped beating at about 30 weeks. She was selling these "Baby Gardens" to pass on the proceeds to March of Dimes. How amazing, I had thought.
When we got there, I didn't see anything right away, so we just meandered looking at the plants. I attempted to get my son to smell some flowers, he just yelled out a big NO! He was more interested in the garden decorations and ornaments; not to mention we had already ignored the fact that it was past naptime.
I eventually found Libby's mom and her Baby Gardens. She had pictures of Libby displayed. As she talked with me, I got a little choked up. I couldn't steer my eyes away from Libby's tiny feet cradled in the hands of her parents. What stopped the flood gates from unleashing everything I have, was a woman from a women's' blog forum. She came up to say hi right as I was about to flee. I am just thankful I was able to pull out of it. I feel like such a dork sometimes, but seriously! I tear up at the smallest things! Sometimes I wonder if I even have a shut-off valve.
So we walked away with two Baby Gardens. One for Libby, and one for my Elijah.
Another thing I have, or will be doing, in honor of my sweet Elijah is going on with my life. Pushing to be greater than I am and to never stop. I do not have an end goal because I do not want to end. I am going back to school for starters. I started a double major in Accounting and Finance before my first son was born. I want to finish this. I do not like the feeling of things left undone. After school, who knows what is next? I want to create the best future for my son and any other children I may have. I want them to be great people.
Every day from now on, I am dedicating anything and all that I do in honor of my family; my husband and my sons.
Nothing else matters except the love we all have for each other. We do not need anything, or anyone, else.
Enough said.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Pressing Play
That's the hard part. Just press play. My last post, I talked about how I felt as if I were stuck on replay. I have got to find a way; ambition to move forward. To get unstuck from my rut would be something to wish upon a birthday candle. Blow and poof! Wish granted. Only if that were true, my name would be Samantha. The witch that is. Oddly enough, the wiggle of my nose is what reeled in the attention of my husband. My glasses tend to fall down a lot. They sit half ways down my nose, stubborn to move any direction but down. A wiggle or too usually keeps them from falling all the way off. Tomorrow is going to be a difficult day for us. All week I have been feeling the "difficulties" already. I pre-warned a co-worker to not take anything offensively if I seem anything less than myself tomorrow. She understood, which helps me as well. I hate April Fool's Day. Why in the world am I capitalizing that?! It is not a holiday! Yet for some reason in the English language it is technically considered a proper noun. It is just some stupid day people use as an excuse to be rude to each other and call it a "joke". Just think. That friend you secretly don't like; well now is your chance. Go ahead and slap a dollar bill into his hand, but first dunk it in some chocolate pudding. Very funny. Thanks, now excuse me while I go wash my hands and buy a new shirt. April 1st is a day I will never forget as the day my world died around me. We were told our beautiful baby will die. Die? It's a joke right? By the way, I watched the videos. Every single one of them... Andrew had to go into work that night. As Paighton slept soundly in his cozy little room with his fan blowing rhythmic hums into the air, I laid in the tub with a glass of Parrot Bay rum and ice. Disgusting crap. I dumped it down the drain; I couldn't stomach it. I knew the videos were going to have a big effect on me; and I really needed my husband at the moment. I called a few people but failed to reach anyone expect for one, by text. By then I had calmed down a bit. Watching the videos is nothing compared to what actually happened though. Although it was nice to see the things that took place while I was gone fighting for my own life. I enjoyed seeing my family holding my baby and saying sweet things to him. I enjoyed listening to my friend telling him who to watch for once he arrived in Heaven. My heart skipped a beat and sank at the same time seeing my husband in distress over me; saying he misses me and has to go check on me. He was willing to give up time with his dying son to be with me. I never doubted he loves me, but, wow. There really are no words to how that made me feel. So tomorrow, both my husband and I are getting off work early to do something special together. Not sure what yet, but lunch of course. I am trying to figure out what Elijah's short life was meant for. He has a purpose for me and I want to make sure it is carried out until the day I die myself. I just don't know yet. I really hope tomorrow, with Andrew and I being able to be alone together, it will just come to us. God, I pray that you help us understand Elijah's purpose. I refuse to believe you give babies to loving parents and take them away so soon as if it were a joke. There is a reason. Right?
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Stuck on replay
I feel like I have been stuck in the same spot these past two months. As the days creep up closer and closer to the dates of April 1st and May 31st, my heart throbs stronger with the pain it experienced almost a year ago.
I am reliving my nightmare...
If you were out in a public place and a friend says to you, "don't look, but that guy over there is smiling at you", what would you do? You would look wouldn't you? If you told a young child "don't throw your toy", he is going to defiantly throw his toy. It's funny how, we as people, are told to not do certain things and we do them anyways. Or it's the other way around. DO this, and we ignore and don't do at all. I have this pulling towards a file folder on my laptop. In this folder are the unwatched videos of Elijah's small time here on Earth.
I feel this agonizing plead to watch them. I am afraid to. A lot happened during his two hours of life that I didn't know or see since I wasn't there; I was unconscious. I do not know if I am prepared.
Those of you with kids, if someone had gone into the future and video taped your child's death; would you be able to watch it now, here in the present? That's kind of my mentality of this. I still have not come to terms with things, as I tell myself and others I have. It's a very convincing mask I wear every day. I still see May 31st as the date of death, not date on birth. He was born wasn't he? I am not so sure...
Tonight I took a drive to town for a short visit to Wal-Mart. Funny I know. Yet when I feel like my world is coming down around me; chaos is about to unfold, I like to surround myself around something that makes sense. Organization. I walk slowly amongst the aisles of storage bins, closet systems, bookcases, TV stands and what not. For some reason, I feel peace seeing everything in its right place, organized by size and color. If something is out of place, there will always be someone there to put it back where it belongs. Even if its not immediately; eventually. I feel like my life can be put back the same.
I notice this same tendency in my son Paighton. He becomes very upset if he feels the need to put something away and we don't allow him to do that due to circumstances of being late for an appointment or daycare and work. He becomes "unglued". Although he likes to dump his bins of toys out, he sleeps better in a clean room. He likes to pick up his room before going to bed. Everything has to be in its rightful spot. He has a turtle that shines stars on his ceiling. God forbid I move his turtle to the other side of his bookshelf, or point the tail towards the wall instead of his nose.
Very particular little boy. Just like his mommy and daddy.
Still, I want to see Elijah's videos yet don't. I don't want to become "unglued" for seeing something I cant fix or put away. I have my own idea of how he lived out his life. Being held by mine and Andy's family. Hugged and kissed till the end. A smile adorning the faces of all who came to see him.
I don't want these videos to change my own idea; a dream of a happy life. No sadness present.
Aside from thinking about Elijah's videos, I often think about two little babies I was following for awhile. Baby Hank from Maryland and Baby Logan from the UK. Baby Hank was just like Elijah; they both had full Triploidy. Baby Hank's mommy and daddy are a young married couple just like Andy and I. I prayed so hard for them to be able to see there little baby alive and that Baby Hank's mommy wouldn't have the life complicated issues I had had. It worked. I don't know much about Baby Hank's mommy and her health condition, but his daddy emailed me the obituary. Baby Hank lived for two days! While I was happier than that word in itself could explain, I was also a little envious. I was sad for myself for not having that amount of time with my Baby Elijah. I am happy for them; sad for me. A little selfish? Sure. But that is nothing I can, or would if I had the ability to, take away from that family. I would give them YEARS if I had the power to do so. Huh... if I had the power... Angel Babies would not exist.
Then there is Baby Logan.; diagnosed with Trisomy 18. He was born sleeping. He brought a lot of joy to his "mum", as the people in the UK say it. People always tell me they are surprised at how well I have handled all this. Really? Then you should meet Baby Logan's mommy. She is the person I look up to. I admire her strength and courage. I admire her love for her son, Logan. She sees the beauty in everything. I struggle with that; I see something more horrific as if it were out of a sci-fi movie. The pain, the screams, the blood, the tiny little bruised body called my son...
I wish I would have miscarried a lump of cells...
Not invalidating anyone who has miscarried. It's not the same; doesn't make it any more worse or easier. Just, I think for me, it would have been easier. It's what I, personally, would have preferred. If I had that choice.
Tomorrow is a new day. A day of similarity; fighting off the images, sounds, smells, and touches of his death. Tomorrow is just the same day as yesterday and today; rewind and repeat.
I am reliving my nightmare...
If you were out in a public place and a friend says to you, "don't look, but that guy over there is smiling at you", what would you do? You would look wouldn't you? If you told a young child "don't throw your toy", he is going to defiantly throw his toy. It's funny how, we as people, are told to not do certain things and we do them anyways. Or it's the other way around. DO this, and we ignore and don't do at all. I have this pulling towards a file folder on my laptop. In this folder are the unwatched videos of Elijah's small time here on Earth.
I feel this agonizing plead to watch them. I am afraid to. A lot happened during his two hours of life that I didn't know or see since I wasn't there; I was unconscious. I do not know if I am prepared.
Those of you with kids, if someone had gone into the future and video taped your child's death; would you be able to watch it now, here in the present? That's kind of my mentality of this. I still have not come to terms with things, as I tell myself and others I have. It's a very convincing mask I wear every day. I still see May 31st as the date of death, not date on birth. He was born wasn't he? I am not so sure...
Tonight I took a drive to town for a short visit to Wal-Mart. Funny I know. Yet when I feel like my world is coming down around me; chaos is about to unfold, I like to surround myself around something that makes sense. Organization. I walk slowly amongst the aisles of storage bins, closet systems, bookcases, TV stands and what not. For some reason, I feel peace seeing everything in its right place, organized by size and color. If something is out of place, there will always be someone there to put it back where it belongs. Even if its not immediately; eventually. I feel like my life can be put back the same.
I notice this same tendency in my son Paighton. He becomes very upset if he feels the need to put something away and we don't allow him to do that due to circumstances of being late for an appointment or daycare and work. He becomes "unglued". Although he likes to dump his bins of toys out, he sleeps better in a clean room. He likes to pick up his room before going to bed. Everything has to be in its rightful spot. He has a turtle that shines stars on his ceiling. God forbid I move his turtle to the other side of his bookshelf, or point the tail towards the wall instead of his nose.
Very particular little boy. Just like his mommy and daddy.
Still, I want to see Elijah's videos yet don't. I don't want to become "unglued" for seeing something I cant fix or put away. I have my own idea of how he lived out his life. Being held by mine and Andy's family. Hugged and kissed till the end. A smile adorning the faces of all who came to see him.
I don't want these videos to change my own idea; a dream of a happy life. No sadness present.
Aside from thinking about Elijah's videos, I often think about two little babies I was following for awhile. Baby Hank from Maryland and Baby Logan from the UK. Baby Hank was just like Elijah; they both had full Triploidy. Baby Hank's mommy and daddy are a young married couple just like Andy and I. I prayed so hard for them to be able to see there little baby alive and that Baby Hank's mommy wouldn't have the life complicated issues I had had. It worked. I don't know much about Baby Hank's mommy and her health condition, but his daddy emailed me the obituary. Baby Hank lived for two days! While I was happier than that word in itself could explain, I was also a little envious. I was sad for myself for not having that amount of time with my Baby Elijah. I am happy for them; sad for me. A little selfish? Sure. But that is nothing I can, or would if I had the ability to, take away from that family. I would give them YEARS if I had the power to do so. Huh... if I had the power... Angel Babies would not exist.
Then there is Baby Logan.; diagnosed with Trisomy 18. He was born sleeping. He brought a lot of joy to his "mum", as the people in the UK say it. People always tell me they are surprised at how well I have handled all this. Really? Then you should meet Baby Logan's mommy. She is the person I look up to. I admire her strength and courage. I admire her love for her son, Logan. She sees the beauty in everything. I struggle with that; I see something more horrific as if it were out of a sci-fi movie. The pain, the screams, the blood, the tiny little bruised body called my son...
I wish I would have miscarried a lump of cells...
Not invalidating anyone who has miscarried. It's not the same; doesn't make it any more worse or easier. Just, I think for me, it would have been easier. It's what I, personally, would have preferred. If I had that choice.
Tomorrow is a new day. A day of similarity; fighting off the images, sounds, smells, and touches of his death. Tomorrow is just the same day as yesterday and today; rewind and repeat.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Control
I seem to be having a better grasp on the control of my panic attacks with the use of my rescue meds. I call them rescue meds because that's what it pretty much does; rescues me. Only downside is it completely fuzzes my mind over to where I become "zombie-like"; I become very tired.
I believe this because the past few days have been a true trial to test my abilities; especially yesterday.
Since I heard the news of my cousin passing last Wednesday, I have had a whirlwind of emotions attaching to new thoughts. New thoughts for a new tragedy in my life. It may seem on the surface that I am having a hard time dealing with his death; in a small way I am. It's not about me though. It's about my cousin's parents and his sister and brother he had left behind; about his nephews and niece too. My heart aches the most for them.
Yesterday family gathered to help put together the photo collages for the funeral the next day. Although it was nice seeing just how many photos my cousin blessed us with, it was very bittersweet. If I can learn anything about strength in the loss of my own son, it's from my cousin's immediate family. I admire the strength my aunt has especially. She always has been a strong woman, this I know, but I haven't been able to see it in it's truest form until now. I understand life can go on.
Only some days I still get those feelings where I just don't care...
In time. Time heals right? This is something I am supposed to be working on for myself'; the control of my emotions and flashbacks of losing Elijah. It seems to be a very slow process. I do not like slow. I rather it be an overnight thing. Wake up and be "cured" from what feels like a disease slowing eating away at my happiness and self will.
Losing Elijah has been the hardest thing I have ever done. I miss his touch and the sound of his coos. I am afraid of forgetting those things. I am afraid of forgetting him. Maybe this is the reason I am having a hard time moving on? If I move on, I cannot take him with me; or at least it feels that way.
To my dear cousin, my friend and brother in Christ, you have always been amazingly wonderful with small children. I ask you, with the help of my friend Danica as well, please stay with my Elijah. Please teach him about me so that when he is reunited with his mommy, he may already know me.
Until then, rest in peace. In my heart you stay forever...
I believe this because the past few days have been a true trial to test my abilities; especially yesterday.
Since I heard the news of my cousin passing last Wednesday, I have had a whirlwind of emotions attaching to new thoughts. New thoughts for a new tragedy in my life. It may seem on the surface that I am having a hard time dealing with his death; in a small way I am. It's not about me though. It's about my cousin's parents and his sister and brother he had left behind; about his nephews and niece too. My heart aches the most for them.
Yesterday family gathered to help put together the photo collages for the funeral the next day. Although it was nice seeing just how many photos my cousin blessed us with, it was very bittersweet. If I can learn anything about strength in the loss of my own son, it's from my cousin's immediate family. I admire the strength my aunt has especially. She always has been a strong woman, this I know, but I haven't been able to see it in it's truest form until now. I understand life can go on.
Only some days I still get those feelings where I just don't care...
In time. Time heals right? This is something I am supposed to be working on for myself'; the control of my emotions and flashbacks of losing Elijah. It seems to be a very slow process. I do not like slow. I rather it be an overnight thing. Wake up and be "cured" from what feels like a disease slowing eating away at my happiness and self will.
Losing Elijah has been the hardest thing I have ever done. I miss his touch and the sound of his coos. I am afraid of forgetting those things. I am afraid of forgetting him. Maybe this is the reason I am having a hard time moving on? If I move on, I cannot take him with me; or at least it feels that way.
To my dear cousin, my friend and brother in Christ, you have always been amazingly wonderful with small children. I ask you, with the help of my friend Danica as well, please stay with my Elijah. Please teach him about me so that when he is reunited with his mommy, he may already know me.
Until then, rest in peace. In my heart you stay forever...
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Maktub
"Maktub"; an Arabic word meaning "it is written".
This one simple, yet powerful, word resonates throughout the book The Alchemist; a novel by Paulo Coehlo.
I have read this book in the past and have started to read it again to help me get back up on my feet.
I have been knocked back down pretty hard today. I thought I made a huge step forward; only to come home to more bad news.
I went to a funeral today. My first since my own son's Elijah's. I purposely chose not to attend wakes or funerals of family and friends; but was compelled at first notice to go to this one; a man I have only seen once briefly over three years ago. It was a small and quick introduction to a large group of people; which I had sat amongst.
I didn't even think twice when I had heard what happened. I jumped in my car and drove as if I were fleeting somewhere. It didn't even hit me until I was about a mile away from the church; oh my gosh... this is the first funeral since... Elijah's.
I broke down. Called a friend. Regained my composure and walked in. I immediately felt the warmth and love surrounding people in the room. I gazed upon the many photos of this man and saw the happiness in his eyes as he sat near his wife while holding his daughter. The tears began to flood again.
As I stood in line waiting to pay my respects (in all honesty, I wanted to budge up to the front and just wrap my arms around her as to touch my heart to hers), my eyes froze upon him. Now Elijah was not an open casket. Nor any casket if that. He was cremated; probably for the best. I began thinking about the book The Alchemist and "maktub". By the way, this man's wife is the person who handed me this book over three years ago. I thought of how "it is written"; our lives are already planned out for us yet we have a part in realizing our own personal legend and play a part in writing our own destiny.
All things happen for a reason right? So what is his reason? Same question I am still trying to understand for my son. And now tonight... another dear loved family member. Why? Why must we be placed here on Earth only to leave behind sadness?
Nothing anyone could have done or known could have changed what has already happened or is about to happen. Maktub.
Yet I am left dumbfounded by the shock and confusion and emotions I feel for two people: someone I hardly know and someone I used to know but grew apart; all in one day. Yes, I lost Elijah and I am extremely distraught over it everyday. Yes, I only had about 20 minutes with him, but I never grew a bond with him only a husband and wife can have. Or a bond only parents have with their adult children. He was a baby but only accomplished little things such as sucking his thumb. That little thing is huge to me, but it's not as huge as creating memories. Memories of happiness and even more so moments of pure annoyance. It's the little things that annoys a person that ends up missing the most when it's gone; leaving the cap off on the toothpaste tube or spraying too much PAM on a frying pan.
Maktub. We never know when our chapter in Earth's book will be written and finished. A new chapter will be started to tell the great journey of a young man in search for his own treasure; his personal legend.
As I follow my journey of healing in the loss of those I love and those I do not know; I only hope that I really do come out a stronger person as everyone keeps saying I will. I hope I find my opportunity to heal the hurt and cure the sick and love the unloved.
To the man's wife, I am so deeply sorry.
To my friend, I wish you knew just how much you truly are loved and how much we needed you here with us.
"Maktub"
This one simple, yet powerful, word resonates throughout the book The Alchemist; a novel by Paulo Coehlo.
I have read this book in the past and have started to read it again to help me get back up on my feet.
I have been knocked back down pretty hard today. I thought I made a huge step forward; only to come home to more bad news.
I went to a funeral today. My first since my own son's Elijah's. I purposely chose not to attend wakes or funerals of family and friends; but was compelled at first notice to go to this one; a man I have only seen once briefly over three years ago. It was a small and quick introduction to a large group of people; which I had sat amongst.
I didn't even think twice when I had heard what happened. I jumped in my car and drove as if I were fleeting somewhere. It didn't even hit me until I was about a mile away from the church; oh my gosh... this is the first funeral since... Elijah's.
I broke down. Called a friend. Regained my composure and walked in. I immediately felt the warmth and love surrounding people in the room. I gazed upon the many photos of this man and saw the happiness in his eyes as he sat near his wife while holding his daughter. The tears began to flood again.
As I stood in line waiting to pay my respects (in all honesty, I wanted to budge up to the front and just wrap my arms around her as to touch my heart to hers), my eyes froze upon him. Now Elijah was not an open casket. Nor any casket if that. He was cremated; probably for the best. I began thinking about the book The Alchemist and "maktub". By the way, this man's wife is the person who handed me this book over three years ago. I thought of how "it is written"; our lives are already planned out for us yet we have a part in realizing our own personal legend and play a part in writing our own destiny.
All things happen for a reason right? So what is his reason? Same question I am still trying to understand for my son. And now tonight... another dear loved family member. Why? Why must we be placed here on Earth only to leave behind sadness?
Nothing anyone could have done or known could have changed what has already happened or is about to happen. Maktub.
Yet I am left dumbfounded by the shock and confusion and emotions I feel for two people: someone I hardly know and someone I used to know but grew apart; all in one day. Yes, I lost Elijah and I am extremely distraught over it everyday. Yes, I only had about 20 minutes with him, but I never grew a bond with him only a husband and wife can have. Or a bond only parents have with their adult children. He was a baby but only accomplished little things such as sucking his thumb. That little thing is huge to me, but it's not as huge as creating memories. Memories of happiness and even more so moments of pure annoyance. It's the little things that annoys a person that ends up missing the most when it's gone; leaving the cap off on the toothpaste tube or spraying too much PAM on a frying pan.
Maktub. We never know when our chapter in Earth's book will be written and finished. A new chapter will be started to tell the great journey of a young man in search for his own treasure; his personal legend.
As I follow my journey of healing in the loss of those I love and those I do not know; I only hope that I really do come out a stronger person as everyone keeps saying I will. I hope I find my opportunity to heal the hurt and cure the sick and love the unloved.
To the man's wife, I am so deeply sorry.
To my friend, I wish you knew just how much you truly are loved and how much we needed you here with us.
"Maktub"
Monday, January 31, 2011
Tribute
I want to pay tribute to a special baby boy: Baby Henry.
Baby Henry, son of Sarah and Kevin, was diagnosed with the same triplody as Elijah in October.
He was born via C-section January 4th, 2011. He lived strongly for 2 days.
Baby Henry, I am so proud of you for defeating the odds to spend more time with your mommy and daddy. You will be missed dearly by your family everyday.
Until the day comes for you to be rejoined with your family, please keep my baby boy Elijah company.
God Bless all the little babies in the world; especially Baby Elijah and Baby Henry.
Baby Henry, son of Sarah and Kevin, was diagnosed with the same triplody as Elijah in October.
He was born via C-section January 4th, 2011. He lived strongly for 2 days.
Baby Henry, I am so proud of you for defeating the odds to spend more time with your mommy and daddy. You will be missed dearly by your family everyday.
Until the day comes for you to be rejoined with your family, please keep my baby boy Elijah company.
God Bless all the little babies in the world; especially Baby Elijah and Baby Henry.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Ruminate
-ruminate
1. to think deeply about something
I recently learned this new word and started using it to better describe my thoughts without sounding like a crazy person. Thank you Jeff. One past example has been referred to as a violent tornado; the thoughts just whirlwind around. Just as a cow passes in front of my eyes, then it's a house, then a car.
My thoughts have been 'ruminating'; almost to the point of uncontrollable.
It has been awhile since I have last written on my blog. Not because there hasn't been anything to write about, but more so because there has been too much; I have to organize again. Partially also because I do not feel 100% safe exposing myself wholly due to past circumstances of emotional attacks from loved ones. I guess some people cannot, and may not ever, understand that people cope and grieve differently.
So ruminating...
My metaphorical cows, houses, and cars have been more realistically about family, friends, work, and life aspirations. One moment I am thinking so intensely on my grandmother who has had yet another aneurysm followed by a stroke and the discovery of a blood clot in her brain the size of an orange to thinking about my sister wishing she would do better for herself in life because she deserves it for herself and owes it to her 3 1/2 year old son. Then I go on to think about my dad and how stressed he is with having to deal with my sister and his mother (my grandmother) and the separation of his believed-to-be soul mate of 11 years.
All of these thoughts are constantly fighting for my attention and I am being drained; exhausting myself once again by putting everyone before myself and eventually I become self-forgotten.
There is also my husband's sister, Amy. For as long as I have been in the family, she has struggled with her weight and self-image. I think she is a beautiful person and an awesome mother to her three boys. The youngest of the three, Ben (I call him Benny), adores his mother. The look in his eyes and smile on his face when those two talked to each other or played and joked around is one of the reasons I wanted to become a mom myself. It made my heart melt.
Amy has been and still is battling bulimia. Last I heard she weighed a whole 73 pounds. She is in Fargo, ND as of now fighting for her life. I am afraid for her. I am afraid for her husband and sons.
I wish there was something I could do or say to give her encouragement, but I am at a complete loss. I have never felt completely accepted into my husband's family; or that it is just very different from the family I am used to from growing up as a child. I do not want to overstep my boundaries. I want to show I care without giving off the vibe of an outsider intruding in private matters. Her husband had asked that I come with on the next visit to see her; but she herself never asks that of me.
I also wish I knew what it was in Amy's past that ignited this contagious fire that is slowly killing her. If I could I would take it all away from her. She doesn't deserve to hurt; she deserves to watch her children grow up and become great people.
It's like that movie, "The Butterfly Effect". If one were to ever travel into the past, a simple flutter of a butterfly's wings would create universal changes for the future to come. If only I could travel into the past and find that little girl named Amy, I could create a whole new life for her. A simple compliment of "cute braids" or an offer to share half of a peanut butter sandwich could have possibly done the trick. Then again, I am at a total loss; not to mention time travel does not exist... yet. I truly believe though that something or someone in her past has hurt her and caused her this horrible disease. I ask all of you to please keep my sister-in-law, Amy, in your thoughts and prayers as she needs them more now than ever. She deserves it.
Another thought that continues to float about my head every day is that fact that within my family, younger and younger yet, the women and young girls are miscarrying their babies. When that thought hits me, I get stuck in the moment and become angry. It wasn't fair that my baby Elijah had to leave so soon, and it isn't fair that my baby cousins have to loose their babies so soon also. I say baby cousins because in my mind, I can still see the innocence of their younger selves; even though they are adults. Miscarriages used to be a thing more common to women in their 40s and beyond. Why is is that my cousins 30 and younger are miscarrying? Is it the food we eat nowadays? Everything is processed. Just yesterday I had read on Facebook, a friend's comment about reading the ingredients of an apple cinnamon muffin mix. It included the ingredient "artificial apple bits". What is an artificial apple, may I ask? How long and how much money did it cost researchers and chemists to create and artificial apple? Wouldn't it have been easier to dehydrate a real apple? It's history to go out to the barn to snatch a few eggs, milk the cow and hack off a few chickens.
I feel for my cousins in having to go though such tragedy. Again, butterfly effect. I would if I could. In thinking of them and Elijah, I fear having to get pregnant again. I fear having to lose another baby or even myself. I also fear Paighton forever being labeled as an only child.
As mentioned in the beginning, I haven't written in awhile. I have forgotten about myself and lost my organization skills to put my thoughts into words understandable to others. I have also lost grasp of how to cope and ask for help. I started to revert back to April of last Spring. The nightly sounds of a crying baby have come back. If I fully wake up before getting out of bed in the middle of the night, I realize and understand it isn't real and scold myself to go back to sleep. However, I do sometimes find myself wondering around the house looking for Elijah; then I wake up. Usually turning on a light will trigger me to awaken. I am also getting the "phantom" kicks again. More than likely it is gas since I refuse to pay attention to the fact I am lactose intolerant; I love cheese. Still, maybe it has always been there and I was able to block it out of my head, but lately I am more and more aware and sensitive when I feel a kick come within.
Lastly, I haven't really been able to label this one until with the help of a doctor, but I guess I am experiencing flashbacks from Elijah's birth. I didn't understand exactly what was happening; I would explain them to my husband as"episodes". I usually either have them when I am alone or at work. When I am doing something productive I don't. I am not productive when I am by myself. At work, for the most part I am productive but it is repetitive. I get in a rhythm were I start to lose that focus and wander off in a daydream; a daydream that goes horribly wrong. It starts out with a thought of course. As they all circulate though my mind, in the background is Elijah's birth. I use a lot of energy forcing that thought to the back because I know what happens if I let it slip thought. I see it and grab onto it; I hone in on it until I lose my sense of surrounding. I cannot break from it on my own. Someone has to snap me out of it or I will completely fall apart as I follow the emotions and sometimes physical pain in order going into labor, him being born, handing him off to my husband, losing conscientiousness, waking up in the ER, holding a dead baby, then leaving for home. My emotions start at high anxiety and end at calm yet saddened; clear minded.
I have been out of work since last Monday due to a huge flashback that I couldn't control and couldn't snap out of. I left work in the afternoon to go to lunch but found myself sitting in my vehicle at the park flipping out. I seriously felt like I was back at Abbott. I didn't realize I was even in my vehicle until I got to the part of going home. I know I am not crazy though; so everyone can be rest assured. I have seen quite a few doctors and psychologists since and they all said I am just fine. I need to take a lot of steps back from helping others and focus on myself, is what they said in their own words.
Nevertheless, my mind continues to ruminate about anything and everything possible. Sure I can start saying "no" to those asking for my help, but how am I to stop the thoughts? I still stress out about everyone else because I do care and begin to feel like a bad person for knowing full well what they are going through yet I refuse to jump in and help. What a horrible thing to do; stand on a beach and watch people drown. Nice.
Regardless, my main focus and goal is to control my flashbacks. My biggest hurdle was finally breaking down and asking for help from an actual professional. Ugh, I cant stand shrinks but hopefully with their help I wont need them for long.
So when I got home from the hospital last Monday after my "flashback episode", my husband and I laid in our room crying uncontrollably. He pulled out Elijah's things and shared with me a card that was given to us at the funeral by someone he knows though work. This card, simple in itself, stuck out to Andrew like a sore thumb; it is a constant reminder and encouragement for him and had hope it would be for me as well.
It was...
1. to think deeply about something
I recently learned this new word and started using it to better describe my thoughts without sounding like a crazy person. Thank you Jeff. One past example has been referred to as a violent tornado; the thoughts just whirlwind around. Just as a cow passes in front of my eyes, then it's a house, then a car.
My thoughts have been 'ruminating'; almost to the point of uncontrollable.
It has been awhile since I have last written on my blog. Not because there hasn't been anything to write about, but more so because there has been too much; I have to organize again. Partially also because I do not feel 100% safe exposing myself wholly due to past circumstances of emotional attacks from loved ones. I guess some people cannot, and may not ever, understand that people cope and grieve differently.
So ruminating...
My metaphorical cows, houses, and cars have been more realistically about family, friends, work, and life aspirations. One moment I am thinking so intensely on my grandmother who has had yet another aneurysm followed by a stroke and the discovery of a blood clot in her brain the size of an orange to thinking about my sister wishing she would do better for herself in life because she deserves it for herself and owes it to her 3 1/2 year old son. Then I go on to think about my dad and how stressed he is with having to deal with my sister and his mother (my grandmother) and the separation of his believed-to-be soul mate of 11 years.
All of these thoughts are constantly fighting for my attention and I am being drained; exhausting myself once again by putting everyone before myself and eventually I become self-forgotten.
There is also my husband's sister, Amy. For as long as I have been in the family, she has struggled with her weight and self-image. I think she is a beautiful person and an awesome mother to her three boys. The youngest of the three, Ben (I call him Benny), adores his mother. The look in his eyes and smile on his face when those two talked to each other or played and joked around is one of the reasons I wanted to become a mom myself. It made my heart melt.
Amy has been and still is battling bulimia. Last I heard she weighed a whole 73 pounds. She is in Fargo, ND as of now fighting for her life. I am afraid for her. I am afraid for her husband and sons.
I wish there was something I could do or say to give her encouragement, but I am at a complete loss. I have never felt completely accepted into my husband's family; or that it is just very different from the family I am used to from growing up as a child. I do not want to overstep my boundaries. I want to show I care without giving off the vibe of an outsider intruding in private matters. Her husband had asked that I come with on the next visit to see her; but she herself never asks that of me.
I also wish I knew what it was in Amy's past that ignited this contagious fire that is slowly killing her. If I could I would take it all away from her. She doesn't deserve to hurt; she deserves to watch her children grow up and become great people.
It's like that movie, "The Butterfly Effect". If one were to ever travel into the past, a simple flutter of a butterfly's wings would create universal changes for the future to come. If only I could travel into the past and find that little girl named Amy, I could create a whole new life for her. A simple compliment of "cute braids" or an offer to share half of a peanut butter sandwich could have possibly done the trick. Then again, I am at a total loss; not to mention time travel does not exist... yet. I truly believe though that something or someone in her past has hurt her and caused her this horrible disease. I ask all of you to please keep my sister-in-law, Amy, in your thoughts and prayers as she needs them more now than ever. She deserves it.
Another thought that continues to float about my head every day is that fact that within my family, younger and younger yet, the women and young girls are miscarrying their babies. When that thought hits me, I get stuck in the moment and become angry. It wasn't fair that my baby Elijah had to leave so soon, and it isn't fair that my baby cousins have to loose their babies so soon also. I say baby cousins because in my mind, I can still see the innocence of their younger selves; even though they are adults. Miscarriages used to be a thing more common to women in their 40s and beyond. Why is is that my cousins 30 and younger are miscarrying? Is it the food we eat nowadays? Everything is processed. Just yesterday I had read on Facebook, a friend's comment about reading the ingredients of an apple cinnamon muffin mix. It included the ingredient "artificial apple bits". What is an artificial apple, may I ask? How long and how much money did it cost researchers and chemists to create and artificial apple? Wouldn't it have been easier to dehydrate a real apple? It's history to go out to the barn to snatch a few eggs, milk the cow and hack off a few chickens.
I feel for my cousins in having to go though such tragedy. Again, butterfly effect. I would if I could. In thinking of them and Elijah, I fear having to get pregnant again. I fear having to lose another baby or even myself. I also fear Paighton forever being labeled as an only child.
As mentioned in the beginning, I haven't written in awhile. I have forgotten about myself and lost my organization skills to put my thoughts into words understandable to others. I have also lost grasp of how to cope and ask for help. I started to revert back to April of last Spring. The nightly sounds of a crying baby have come back. If I fully wake up before getting out of bed in the middle of the night, I realize and understand it isn't real and scold myself to go back to sleep. However, I do sometimes find myself wondering around the house looking for Elijah; then I wake up. Usually turning on a light will trigger me to awaken. I am also getting the "phantom" kicks again. More than likely it is gas since I refuse to pay attention to the fact I am lactose intolerant; I love cheese. Still, maybe it has always been there and I was able to block it out of my head, but lately I am more and more aware and sensitive when I feel a kick come within.
Lastly, I haven't really been able to label this one until with the help of a doctor, but I guess I am experiencing flashbacks from Elijah's birth. I didn't understand exactly what was happening; I would explain them to my husband as"episodes". I usually either have them when I am alone or at work. When I am doing something productive I don't. I am not productive when I am by myself. At work, for the most part I am productive but it is repetitive. I get in a rhythm were I start to lose that focus and wander off in a daydream; a daydream that goes horribly wrong. It starts out with a thought of course. As they all circulate though my mind, in the background is Elijah's birth. I use a lot of energy forcing that thought to the back because I know what happens if I let it slip thought. I see it and grab onto it; I hone in on it until I lose my sense of surrounding. I cannot break from it on my own. Someone has to snap me out of it or I will completely fall apart as I follow the emotions and sometimes physical pain in order going into labor, him being born, handing him off to my husband, losing conscientiousness, waking up in the ER, holding a dead baby, then leaving for home. My emotions start at high anxiety and end at calm yet saddened; clear minded.
I have been out of work since last Monday due to a huge flashback that I couldn't control and couldn't snap out of. I left work in the afternoon to go to lunch but found myself sitting in my vehicle at the park flipping out. I seriously felt like I was back at Abbott. I didn't realize I was even in my vehicle until I got to the part of going home. I know I am not crazy though; so everyone can be rest assured. I have seen quite a few doctors and psychologists since and they all said I am just fine. I need to take a lot of steps back from helping others and focus on myself, is what they said in their own words.
Nevertheless, my mind continues to ruminate about anything and everything possible. Sure I can start saying "no" to those asking for my help, but how am I to stop the thoughts? I still stress out about everyone else because I do care and begin to feel like a bad person for knowing full well what they are going through yet I refuse to jump in and help. What a horrible thing to do; stand on a beach and watch people drown. Nice.
Regardless, my main focus and goal is to control my flashbacks. My biggest hurdle was finally breaking down and asking for help from an actual professional. Ugh, I cant stand shrinks but hopefully with their help I wont need them for long.
So when I got home from the hospital last Monday after my "flashback episode", my husband and I laid in our room crying uncontrollably. He pulled out Elijah's things and shared with me a card that was given to us at the funeral by someone he knows though work. This card, simple in itself, stuck out to Andrew like a sore thumb; it is a constant reminder and encouragement for him and had hope it would be for me as well.
It was...
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