Letter to Elijah

My Dear Son, Elijah,

As the days pass, there is never a moment I don't think about you. You are always on my mind. I find myself needing to talk about you in order to feel you. To feel you is to feel alive. When I am away from my family, I feel dead inside. You, I can carry with where ever I may go.

Your big brother, Paighton, is now two years old. I see a lot of you in him. He helps me get through lonely nights when I need you most. He will come into my room and jump on your teddy bear that sacredly holds the sound of your heart. We bounce and dance on the bed to its rhythm. I move to the beat of your heart everyday as the sound replays in my head at work.

I recently had surgery again. I was nervous, not knowing how I would handle surgery after loosing you. The smell and sounds of the surgical center brought back erie feelings. I was calmed as I drifted off to sleep, thinking of and praying that God would give us time together. He did. Danica brought you to see me. You seemed so happy. You looked like you were already a toddler yourself; mirror images of your big brother. It was so short lived though. When I woke up and saw your daddy, I knew you were gone again. My heart ache to see you more.

People try to tell me that everything happens for a reason. I am still trying to figure that out. I do see and understand some things, but deep down inside I want to refuse it. I rather you be here with me than any other 'good' that is supposed to be.

Without you, I wouldn't have certain relationships that I do. now Some are clearer and more appreciated, while others still confuse me. All I ever want is to be loved. Why that never seems to happen no matter how hard I try is beyond me. I just have to keep reminding myself, I can only control myself and not others. For whatever they think or feel, it is not within my means to understand. In time, maybe, in time those that I love will see it and come around to love me back.

I also think about the reality of me ever being able to have more children. After losing you, I am afraid of loving any more. I fear all my love has been claimed for by you and your brother. I fear that I may not be a good mother because I am so angry I have lost you.

I had told someone at work once that I may never be able to get pregnant again anyways. She scolded me by saying "if that were true, you would have had that hysterectomy. You didn't, so you will have another baby". Her philosophy may be right; and of course it should be. She too has lost babies on more than one occasion. My heart aches for her, but I see how happy she is with her beautiful babies that would not have been born had it not been for those that were lost. Her babies now were her "good reason" in life.

Elijah, you brought me closer to people I thought would never love me no matter how hard I tried. You helped me to take down those annoying self-protective walls, if not all the way, at least a little to make it easier to climb over. You made my friendships mean more than just friends; we are sisters. You reminded me that your daddy is not just my husband; he is my best friend. You live everyday within your big brother.

My sweet baby Elijah. I miss you so much.

Love dearly, Your Mommy

The "Funny" Twos

I have always heard about the "terrible twos", but what about "funny" or "endearing"?

My son recently turned two years old on August 31st. Just like last year, he woke up the next day with a very apparent attitude adjustment. Someone had told me once to be proud that my son is very opinionated; it means he is confident in himself. Thank you. That makes me feel like all the hard work pays off. Low self-esteem for my child is just one of my many fears. I hope he never has to struggle with that.

It also justifies the way I, myself, was raised. Respect, polite manners, and structure really are important. Of course with lots of creativity too!

My son is so funny to watch and play with. I find myself acting so childish at times; running around the house, crawling on the floor, and roaring as loud as I can be as I march a toy dinosaur. He just laughs with me. I can only imagine the thought in his head; "silly Mommy".

At times he is very endearing as well. He stops in the middle of a wrestle match to make sure Mommy is okay. "Wowie?", he says as he rubs his hand along my arm to smooth away an owie.

Right now he is on a freezie kick. All he wants to eat are blue freezies. When I reluctantly give in to his pleading wishes and hopeful filled blue eyes, he skips a victory dance around the dining room table. He repeats over and over, "feezie, feezie, feezie". He does the same for juice, only its more like 'deuce'. Too cute!

The other phase he is going through right now is a mommy-only phase. He doesn't want daddy to help with anything. I think Andy may be feeling a little detached. I hope this will pass soon. Although I am enjoying the attention from my little guy.

Last Sunday, a friend of mine from high school did Paighton's 2-year photos. They turned out amazing! I have only seen two pictures so far; I cannot wait for the rest. Here is a sneak peek to awesome cuteness! Later, check out Jill's blog at http://jnicholephotography.wordpress.com/

I am so excited to see what this next year has to bring. I hope we laugh a lot, and hug and kiss even more!

Back to work

This is my last weekend before I have to return to work. I got a little taste of what it would be like to be a stay-at-home mother. Although I enjoyed it very much, it opened my eyes and reminded me of exactly the things I don't want.

There were days I found myself feeling slumped. Usually those were days I still brought my son to daycare. He went because I wanted him to keep somewhat of a normal schedule, yet I didn't bring him everyday. When he isn't with me, I have nothing to do. I become bored, then sad.

When Paighton is with me, we are busy little bees. We have so much fun together. I love taking him out in public; he is so funny to watch. He with blurt out across an aisle at a store to say "hello" to strangers and if you don't acknowledge him, he will continue as he gets louder and louder with each attempt. It's darling. He also does it when we leave, yelling "bye" and waving frantically.

Yesterday I took him to a local splash pad and the county fair. He would hesitantly hold out his hand to touch a stream of watering drizzling out of the side of a giant sprinkler. he would say "cold?" as he looked towards me for approval. I agree. He then turns and runs wildly through it. I love how he is always looking for my approval. Makes me feel like I am doing something right as a mother. He values what I think. I hope he carries forever the same values my husband and I share, especially when it comes to the big important things in life.

At the county fair, I paid $5 for a miniature pony ride for him. He went around the circle once while I walked along side him holding his waist. Then began the tear factory. He lunged towards me and I couldn't keep him up on the pony anymore. The pony began to veer away from me. I just yanked him off and walked out of the carousel area. So much for my $5, but it was worth him having that experience. Hands on experience is more educational than any book or classroom or video. He knew what a duck was when he saw it, and when we were by the pigs he gave his best effort to snort through his nose. He also pointed at the pig and said "nigh nigh". That means "night night"; he sleeps with a plush pig in his crib at night. He got the pig from my girlfriend Rachel for his birthday last year. She was concerned he wouldn't like it because it didn't light up; he LOVES it. He squeezes its tummy and leans his head from side to side as it signs to him about shapes and colors. When we got to the cows, he squatted down and cautiously stuck his hand through the fence to grab the calf's attention. I was squatting with him, but a little back behind him to give him some freedom. He looked back to see if I was still there and swatted his hand towards me and said "go". I laughed so hard. He thinks he is so grown up.

The things I don't want if I were a stay-at-home mom is my son being to dependent on me and not wanting any help from his daddy. The past couple of weeks he doesn't want daddy to get him in or out of the car seat, give him his bath or put him down to bed. Those things my husband always did while I was pregnant with Elijah because I was trying to lessen my activities of heavy lifting. I was always involved in some way, but daddy was the main guy. I wonder if Paighton is trying to compensate for lost time? I can see the sadness and disappointment in my husband. He makes comments like "he doesn't like me" or "he doesn't need me anymore". Other than disagreeing with my husband, I am unsure of other ways to help him see that it is untrue. Paighton just may be going through a phase right now.

That will all change once I go back to work and he is back in daycare full-time again. He will continue going through "phases" all the way up to adulthood. Its just hard to understand and get used to.

I am very excited to get back to work and see good friends I have made over the years. A smile is contagious and I know there are about 400 or more smiles a day at work. That's a lot of smiles! I am also nervous, but that is only natural. I hope I can remember all of the procedures. So much constantly changes within the company everyday, and being gone for so long I may have to start all over. I am exaggerating a little, okay maybe a lot. I have confidence in myself to pick it up easily. Just knowing that I will have lingering thoughts, feelings, events and experiences in the back of my mind, not sure what type of person I am anymore.

I hope I am the same person but only debuting changed qualities that boost my personality for the better; not worse. I want friends, not enemies.

These past ten weeks have been a trial of learning to live a new life. Not necessarily a better life, just different. I have been forced to confront some grudges of people that hurt me in the past and let go. I have been taught how to love differently; more appreciative. My teacher? God.

I have also had more time to ask myself where do I want to be led now? Which direction? Which ever way I choose, there are sacrifices to be had. I want to return to school and finish what I started; double major in Accounting and Finance. The sacrifice would be my family and missing out on my son growing up and changing everyday. I am afraid I will come home when day and not know who he is. The other sacrifice would be no babies until I graduate. Regardless, we have to wait an entire year before trying for another baby. If we don't, I am yet again risking my own life and the life of our unborn child. When I ponder on the facts, I get down. I feel depressed and upset with my situation and having lost my son's life so soon. Then I think, its just a year. It could be worse; the doctors could have performed a hysterectomy instead of an embollization. I still have my uterus. I could be without, but I am not. God blessed me with the ability to try again. My biggest fear about trying a year from now (if we even decide to) is going through all of this again. I had a close call for my life, what if next time I am not so lucky? What if I lose yet another baby?

Again, my mind, the "what-ifs" is my worst enemy.

Hopefully work will numb the chaos in my mind and open new doors for me to grow as a person.

Three years and counting.

Today marks the day. My husband and I have been married for three years. Now that may not be very long, however, it feels longer than just three years. Possibly because we have known each other long before and moved in to share an apartment during our college years.

I credit our dating and living together before marriage to our happy marriage. I strongly believe that. Most people who get married then move in together have never had to share personal space with anyone except parents and siblings; maybe the occasional roommate not intended for marriage. Your personal space is yours. Your tube of toothpaste. Your closet. Your television shows. Now throw in marriage and you and your partner have to learn to share. You learn each others quirks, whether endearing or just pure annoying.

My husband and I learned that, yes, we can live together forever, before we got married. I hear all the time of failed relationships and marriages. I promised myself I would never fall to that statistic. I come from a family of divorce, why would I want to relive my childhood nightmare and subject someone I love to it as well? The first year of a marriage, I believe, is the toughest. We did all of our fighting the first year and a half, enough to last us a lifetime.

The fighting wasn't necessarily fighting. It was more like bickering. I squeeze my tube of toothpaste from the middle, but I always even it out when I am finished. I also close the cap all the way to unsure I don't have a messy end. There is nothing more disgusting than seeing a toothpaste tube with dried up leftover toothpaste stuck to the cap. Now my husband's tube on the other hand is a different story. Complete opposite from mine. He attacks his tube. I smile now, but when we were 20 years of age I couldn't get over it for the life of me. I couldn't change his behavior and he couldn't change mine either. Solution: separate tubes of toothpaste. Solved! We haven't been happier since. I know it sounds silly, but all people would be able to find something in their own life that irritates them to insanity, and be able to laugh at it.

Being we have lived together for so long, and I really cannot find anything in our marriage that needs improvement or change other than we just need more babies, I feel like we are an old married couple. There is nothing left to fight about, to bicker about, or learn about. We know everything about each other. The mystery is gone. We know how to get along, and say sorry if need be. We have gone through everything a couple could together; dating, college, career changes, marriage, children, new house with giant mortgage attached, death of a child. What else is there to do?

We really had hoped to be able to go to Duluth for our anniversary. I love kayaking and he has never gone. He has also fell in love with the North Shore just recently and wants to go camping every weekend. Unfortunately reality is always there keeping us grounded; bills. It is so hurtful when you see medical bills come through the mail for your son that is no longer living. I expected more financial responsibilities when we got pregnant with Elijah, but we also expected to take him home and watch him grow into a beautiful boy and then a man. All of the money we had been saving for daycare and diapers is all gone from many specialty doctor appointments then our week long hospitalization when Elijah was born. It also went towards gas and food expenses since we had to drive to Minneapolis and Maple Grove for everything. I just feel so stressed out about money. I called Abbott's billing department to see if I could get on a payment plan for mine and Elijah's bill. What does she send me in the mail? Some stupid application for a line of credit with an 8% APR. Thanks a lot lady. I called to ask for help, not a way to spend more money! That is not fair. I wasn't looking for a handout, just a little more time.

So I am unsure of what today will be like. Probably like any other day, just a Wednesday. It's such a bummer that my husband has to work today. It would be nice to do nothing together. We both have a lot to do of our own, but to be able to do nothing, together, would be ideal.

I love my husband dearly. I guess what I am sad about is that we do not get as much time together as I want. If I had it my way, we both would work from home and make our own hours. I just really miss him... A lot... I also miss Elijah. I cried myself to sleep last night. I thought about how today could have been so much better with the four of us. My entire family together.

I wish Elijah could see and know his daddy and why I love him so much...

God's world

This past weekend was very busy. It was filled with laughter, tears, found appreciation, and marvel.

Some really good girlfriends of mine took me out on a Girls' Night downtown Minneapolis and the Comedy Club at Mall of America. It was so nice to hang out with them. They are some of the silliest people I know. When I am with them, I feel as if we do not have to act our age. We can giggle and make faces, and sounds you would normally hear come from a man. There are no social boundaries with us; no table manners allowed!

I also got to spend some time up on the North Shore, about 80 miles north of Duluth, with my husband and friends from Sustaining Grace. I thought I would be tired all day, but somehow I found unused energy from the night before. I wasn't even tired when we went to bed, I felt as if I could have gone on longer yet.

We hiked Temperance River. One word: wow. The water level was low and I could see where the water had once been carving its path into the rock. Up at the top, the water was calm and still. It was cool and refreshing to the touch. Down further the river became more violent, spilling into a 'kettle' like opening. It is strange to look at something so beautiful, so breathtaking, but all the while knowing it can take your life in a heartbeat. Sends chills down my spine. Down past the 'kettle' the water came to a slow, creating a pool where thrill-seeking visitors jumped from the cliff into the dark waters.

We also experienced the Alpine Slide. As my husband and I were on our first trip up the ski lift, we both felt feelings of anxiousness and nausea. I tried my best to enjoy the view but all I could focus on was the sounds of the cable as the chair slowly creaked its way to the top. I thought about my sons, both of them. I thought that one little wrong oops and I would be gone; plummeting to the Earth's slopped surface. Our second trip up, I finally realized that if the chair for some reason did break and fall, I wouldn't die. I would just get hurt, really bad. That helped calm me. I was able to look around more. I could see the Superior's glistening waters. The horizon seemed to have gone on forever. Everything was so gorgeous.

My husband, sadly, decided to prove his manhood to a friend and ignored that his sled had a brake system. Needless to say, he wiped out. Going down a 25,000 foot decline on the side of mountain sized hill, he crashed. I felt so bad for him. It only strengthened my worries about him being an accident waiting to happen. I already had bad feelings about him as I watched him lean over the cliff at Temperance River to see it's violent waters rushing underneath him. My husband is the King of Clumsy. He broke his toe doing laundry! How? It is beyond me. I love him dearly, but he makes me nervous in anything he does.

Later that evening, our friends and us sat out on the beach. It was dark. The moon lit up the water and made the wet rocks close to the shoreline shine. The water crashed up against the rocky beach; my ears were filled with God's music. Out of the four of us, no one seemed to be able to skip a rock. The guys got a couple, but not many. As I sat there, I looked up at the sky. I have always felt very tiny when I did that as a little girl, camping with my father. But this time, I felt really small. Thinking of my son Elijah somewhere up there in Heaven, just hoping he is looking down at me at that same moment, made me feel that infamous lump in my throat again. I didn't want to cry during such a perfect moment. My eyes swelled, but the air's wind helped to dry them. As the guys continued to dig for the perfect skipping rock, I took notice to the rocks around me. I realized that the rocks are just like snowflakes; not one is alike from another. They are all very unique and made specially by God. It is amazing how nature is effected by its own surroundings, and all things are made with the help of each other. Just like humans.

My son Elijah is unique. He may be similar to others, but not exactly alike. God created him specially for me and my husband. He had, and still does have, a plan for Elijah's life. It is not over.

Sunday morning, God blessed me with the company of a hummingbird as we ate breakfast. I have never seen a hummingbird longer than a second. I watched in awe as the little guy floated from flower to flower of a few hanging baskets.

After breakfast, we enjoyed an awesome swim at Gooseberry Falls. The water is low which allowed us to walk across it. I sat right underneath the waterfall. I have never done anything like that before. The water was really cold, but the more I swam at the end of the waterfall, where the water pooled together, I got used to it. I didn't want to leave.

I was so excited to see my son Paighton when we finally got to my in-laws. He screamed "mama" with such intensity. I thought my heart was going to explode. I kissed him with the same amount of intensity back, I wanted to smother him. I just couldn't get enough of him, he felt so good in my arms.

When the three of us went home, I held my son Paighton and we said hello and goodnight to Baby Elijah. I pointed out the urn to him. The urn is a cherry wood box with a square holding a picture of Elijah wrapped up in a fuzzy white blanket and adorned with a blue knitted hat. Paighton pointed to it and said "Baby nigh nigh". That is how he pronounces "night night". It was so cute. He recognized and understood that Elijah was "sleeping". When he is older, we will tell and explain Elijah's story so that he can know and love his little brother as much as we do. I m under of at what age, but I am sure God will let me know when the right time is.

I am so amazed by how beautiful things are, what God has to offer us. Not only in the Earth around us, but also by the people. He has put such beautiful people in our lives to create for us and allow us to create for ourselves.

Independence

This year's Fourth of July celebration was my son's second, yet first in seeing fireworks. I was anxious to see how he would react, and to see the look on his face when the first burst of color flickers in the night sky. I wanted to see in his eyes the reflection of the starburst.

To my surprise, he was afraid of them. I thought he would enjoy it. At first, he smiled and laughed, but it was more of a nervous laugh. His body started to tremble and then I saw tears. We left to go home. He got to see a few of them and that is all that my husband and I wanted; a sneak peek. When we got to our vehicle and I took him out of his stroller, we just stood there for a few more minutes thinking he would now be more calm. He was a little, but then a big one went off. He lunged for the door handle. It was so cute. I feel bad for laughing at his expense of feeling frightened, but I couldn't help myself. He was just so darn cute; endearing.

With this holiday passing, I begin to think of how it could have been different had my other son been with us. Elijah would be 5 weeks old now.

The other day the three of us went to McDonald's. I am not particularly fond of McDonald's, but I have not been grocery shopping for awhile due to taking care of my grandmother in the ICU. It was something easy and quick; besides Paighton seemed to enjoy the new experience. We sat in a booth with a highchair at the end of the table. Paighton didn't want to sit in it so he just sat on his knees next to his Daddy. My husband later told me that while we sat there and ate, he imagined our son Elijah sitting there with us in the empty highchair. I tried to make light of the situation and joked that a 5-week old wouldn't be able to sit. He cracked a smile, but still... I knew what he meant and where he was coming from. I often imagine our son being physically present with us too.

I felt useless at that moment, knowing no matter what I said to my husband it wouldn't make things "better". The kind of better we both want, our son to be here with us and not in Heaven.

I think my husband is a stronger person than I am. Either that or more introverted with is emotions than I am. However, he is the most emotionally-open man I know. I am glad to be with him because I don't know how I would survive with the "typical male". Andrew is by no means "typical". I am thankful for that.

In observance of the holiday and thinking of what independence means for me and my family, I think of the soldiers who have fought and lost their lives or returned home for us. They have accomplished many great things. I compare; just as they have fought for us, I fought for my son. Only difference is I did not win. I did not accomplish what I meant to accomplish. I wonder, will I ever accomplish anything worthwhile for Elijah? Not for me, or anyone else, but him. Only him. I will spend the rest of my life trying and continuing to accomplish for him.

The rest of this month, or longer I will spend a lot of my time and energy on my grandmother. I fear for her health and her life. She has been in the ICU now for nine days. I know she is a strong woman, but learning from Elijah, I also know God decides all.

People keep telling me that God never gives a person more than they can handle. I would like to say this to God... "Ok I get it, I am flattered. I can handle a lot, a crap load. You may stop at any time now, I have had enough".

Why?

Why? Why does life have to get yet that much harder when it is already hard enough?

I looked forward all weekend to a fun scrap booking day with my girlfriends today. I was sad most of the time as I stared blankly through pictures of Elijah. I got three pages done. I had fun... but was sad on the inside.

I felt miserable for the rest of the night. I ended up going to my mom's house for some motherly comfort.

When I got home, I felt much better and knew tomorrow will be a better day. I was wrong.

My husband told me my dad messaged him to let him know that my Grandmother is in the hospital. She had an aneurysm rupture and barely made it. She has lost over five liters of blood. She had surgery and will need to be sedated for the next 72 hours to prevent any pressure within her body.

Not only did an aneurysm rupture, but the doctors founds more aneurysms, many more. Just sitting there, waiting to take my Grandmother away from me.

How am I to deal with healing from the loss of my son, and now my Grandmother? I cant take any more loss, no more heartache. I need it to stop. I need the people I love most in my life right now to be with me. I love my Grandma, I love my Elijah too.

I really hope that my sweet Angel baby is up there in Heaven, telling God just how much I need my Grandma to stay here with us right now. I hope Elijah is her own personal Guardian Angel.

Life is so unfair. Why?

Parade of Life

The weather has been nice lately. Most people would disagree with me, but I kind of like it. The smell of the sky and the feel of the moist air on my skin reminds me of my high school days. I remember hanging out with friends, running through cornfields to sneak up and spy on the boys, and sitting around the campfire. Those days were so innocent, not knowing my life would lead me to where I am now. I didn't know life would separate me from people I thought would be in my life forever; I thought we would still be doing the same things. We are not.

I also did not know that I would ever have to deal with losing my own child. I knew that some point in my life I would have to deal with death, but not death of a baby less than a day old. Not even death of anyone younger than myself. I was not ready, I was not prepared.

Today my husband and I took our son to a parade. I was so excited, sitting right next to him and watching every emotion in his face change as the floats passed us by. His eyes would light up with excitement when a dog or cool truck would go pass. When the marching bands came close, he would stare and get lost in space. He was so amazed by the drums and flags twirling around. I barely watched the parade. My eyes were focused on him. Every time he smiled, I smiled. My heart would fill with joy. I wanted to sit right on top of him, I couldn't get close enough to him. He even got a couple suckers, and boy did he like that! He was Mommy's lil sticky fingered munchkin.

The moment the suckers went into Mommy's hair, the suckers were in the garbage. Distraction tactic = banana. Mission complete!

Then the MADD float went by. I remember that float from past years. I was in a really good mood until I saw the mangled minivan atop the trailer being pulled from behind. I can envision my own minivan, and where my children would sit. Placed around the minivan on the trailer were pictures of the children; children who lost their lives to a care less drunk driver. I felt sad. Then I felt like I wanted to lose it when I saw the picture of the mother's unborn baby, placed as if he were sleeping and holding a very dainty and wilted daisy. I didn't lose it... I wanted to. I remember how I felt last year when I saw that picture, not knowing that the organization NILMDTS that took that picture of the dead baby would also take pictures of my dead baby. I remember being shocked, thinking the picture was gruesome and controversial for publicly displaying it. It's a picture of a baby; a dead baby! Not everyone would want to see a picture of a dead baby, so why force them by element of surprise? No one knows its coming around the corner, then all of a sudden its there. You don't have time to make the choice of yes or no I am going to look.

Now, knowing what I know, and going through what I am going through, I think about what other people feel when they see pictures of my Elijah. I hope they are not shocked, or think gruesome and horrific thoughts. I hope they don't think ugly thoughts. I hope people don't think my baby Elijah is an ugly baby. Yes, he did not develop what we consider to be 'normal', but he is still a baby. He doesn't know any different, he didn't have any choice.

I can still see that picture very vividly. The baby's head turned to his left. The daisy, held in the baby's left hand, bowing its pedals to the right. The baby's right hand is clenched in a fist, laid to rest on his chest. His face looks soft, and at peace despite the bruising. Elijah had bruising too. It looks so traumatic and painful. I have been told its not, and I remind myself of it always, but it is hard to believe.

As the float went and passed, I felt sick. I tried my best to be happy, for my son. I wanted him to enjoy the parade and have this experience. I didn't want to be selfish. I waited for the Shriner's to go by on their go-karts, and then I said it, "I want to go". The sun was starting to come out and the weather was starting to get hot anyways. None of us like it super hot, we get cranky.

I find it strange how certain emotions can have an actual physical effect on your body. I understanding being sad, and sometimes a person can vomit if they cry too hard. But they way certain things make me feel is odd. It is hard to explain, but its as if my body just wants to say "I quit". I feel hot, dizzy, nauseous and forget to keep breathing. I want to pass out. I abandon what I am doing at the moment and run away for fear I will draw attention to myself.

Life is kind of like a parade. There is excitement, chaos, candy, encouragement and even sadness. I have had every float in life now. There is more to experience though, and I look forward to it. I do not look forward to any more sad floats. I know they will come, and that instills more fear in me. I am afraid to set goals for myself for fear sadness will come along and take it away; take away my happiness.

My son and husband are my happiness. I went through many difficult friendships and relationships to meet my husband. I went through many years of pain, surgery, and treatments to have my son. They are my happiness and I have fought very hard and cried many tears to have them in my life. I am forever grateful to God for putting them in my life. I never want to be apart from them. I want to stare in their eyes all day, every day. I need them and they need me. The feeling of being needed is more than I ever thought it would be.

Thank you Lord. Although I ask of you this, please give me the strength to set personal goals so that I do not stall in life and become numb. I want to continue living life, not to just be "alive". Amen.

Angel vs. Demon

I often wonder if other people personify their own conscience; create their own idea of a character or characters. Does your conscience have a different personality then the one you own and portray on the outside to other people?

Think of it this way. You watch a commercial, or movie perhaps, and there is a woman standing in front of a chocolate cake. There sits atop on her left shoulder a mini version of herself, conservatively dressed in all white and adorned with a halo. On her right shoulder sits another mini self-version scantily dressed in all red and sporting a pitchfork and horns. This scene is all too familiar, and often funny given the right circumstances. Chocolate cake = funny; stealing = not funny. This is personification; the woman has given both sides of conscience a personality and created a complete character separate from herself. This is how I have become lately.

I have always been able to be rational, realistic, positive, and considerate of those possibly effected when making my own decisions about things, both short and long term. Lately seems as if I have lost my control over my thoughts, but not my final decisions.

Everyday is a constant struggle for me. Every minute of the day I have to re-make the same decisions. One side of me wants to stay in bed all day, not eat or bathe, not talk to anyone. I want to become a hermit; a cranky hermit and scare away all those who come knocking at my door. I don't want to go out in the world and see then sun. I want to be selfish and not take care of anyone, not even myself. That is my demon, coaxing me over and over, whispering in my ear of how easy it would be.

My angel is on my other side, gently whispering in the other ear to not listen. Telling me to get out of bed and go outside, even if it is just to get the mail. My angel gives me encouragement to live. She tells me as hard as it may be, it will only get harder if I choose not to. In this case, I always side with my angel and live on.

Other times where I fall victim to my demon is when I forget to filter my thoughts. Its good to let some things out, but I easily forget who might be reading, or listening, or even who I am directly saying my thoughts too. I forget that my emotions may effect others, and not always in a good way. My emotions are what they are, at the moment in time. In no way is it a reflection of who I truly am, or my final opinion about a particular topic. I may feel one way about something and then completely change my mind five minutes later and feel another way. I don't know how to control my emotions, and I certainly don't know how to trust them. They are deceiving and tempting; all too easy to follow.

When I follow one emotion, I become distracted by another and begin to follow that instead. I am happy one moment, but if I hear something or see something, I become sad. As fast as a flick of a light switch, I become sad and cannot get out of it unless I cry. After I am done crying, I become angry and hateful. I write things or say things with that hate in my heart and in my mind because I cannot get rid of it unless I get it out. I do not know any other way at this point in time.

My life seems all so confusing. It doesn't make sense. My mind, my heart, even my physical body feels like I should have a baby here in my arms. I should be changing diapers, and getting no sleep because of late night feedings. Instead I am getting no sleep because I hear the cries of a hungry and wet baby and wake to only find no baby. I feel like my van is empty, driving down the road with my toddler, I look back and hone in on the empty seat where an infant carrier would be strapped in. I think of my son reaching over to our newest family member, holding his hand and giving him toys to play with. I think of my son being all too worried about the baby's cries as I hurry to our destination only to get him out of the seat's constraints and cuddle him.

My demon tells me to be angry; angry at the world for all of its injustices. To be angry at God for allowing this to happen. My angel tells me I will get to see my baby again, and I cannot live on angry at anyone because it is no ones fault. I have to pick a side every time this thought pops into my mind. It is so hard to be forgiving, it is so much easier to be angry and hateful. I find myself in more pain though when I start feeling hate.

It is odd though how I can become so hateful of things completely irrelevant to me or my family. I hear of a sad story in the news, start eavesdropping on a stranger's cell phone conversation, or disagree with a woman's parenting standing behind me in the grocery store. I become so upset about the gasping story I want to rant and rave, and even turn around and smack the woman. Anything that I see or hear of effecting children, those I know personally or not, I want to become so involved. My mind gets lost and my heart floods with that feeling of "I just HAVE to do something". I cant seem to find an outlet.

Maybe I am dealing with things just fine, maybe not. Maybe there is no right or wrong way to deal with the loss of a child, only your own way. Everything seems to come customized these days, why not coping. I have my way, you have yours. I am just really feeling the exhausting energy it takes to constantly choose what is right for me at that very moment because it may happen again later in the day but the choice may need to change. I feel like I am stuck, permanently, taking a final exam for my physics or calculus class. Once you think you have the answer, another variable pops into the equation.

Why cant I argue with my split-personality of a conscience over a caramel soy latte instead?

Tomorrow I am keeping my toddler home from daycare. He always shows me the bright side of life and reminds me to become more like him; worry about what to eat every five minutes and attempt to run around naked. Ah, the freedom of the open air...

Pizza Pizza

As most people in my life know, my son Paighton has severe food allergies to dairy, eggs, and nuts. Well, let's just say HAD these allergies.

He is no longer allergic to dairy! He is still allergic to eggs, but not nuts; although his allergist says to still keep him away from any type of nut especially peanuts.

I have searched the nutritional facts and ingredients of common and popular restaurants in the area. I found a complete egg-free menu for Applebees and many items from McDonald's that are safe for him to eat. Not that I am excited about McDonald's, but it is nice to know if I am ever far from home with a hungry toddler.

Today I found myself thinking about pizza. I was in the mood for pizza and wanted to find out how to make my own. Then I started to get lazy and resorted to what I know how to navigate a little better: the Internet. I am not that great of a cook. I usually have to experiment and fail several times before mastering a dish. Tonight was not a night for experiments.

I found that the only local pizza that is safe for him to eat is from Domino's. I called to speak to someone and place an order instead of ordering online, like I would normally do. The guy assured me he would take extra caution in making sure our pizzas were safe for my son. Of course, there was still some risk for cross contamination. Some of their sauces, especially white sauces have egg in the ingredients. They even labeled the boxes to ensure brand new clean utensils were used in handling our pizzas. I was so grateful.

It felt so nice to eat like a 'normal' family tonight. I don't know how long its been since I ate pizza without having to wait for my son to go to bed. He seemed to really enjoy it too. He had double-pineapple pizza and a cinna-stix with some frosting. He was so sticky!

It really makes me feel good as a mom to see happiness in my son's eyes. All these new foods he was once never allowed are now allowed. He is so interested in foods of all kinds. He especially likes string cheese. When he says "mmmm", my heart says "awe".

I think partly the reason why I feel good deep down inside by feeding people is from how I grew up. I come from a large family; a family that likes to eat. You cant walk away from the table without my grandmother sneaking a couple extra spoonfuls of something onto your plate; and then there is dessert. And not just dessert, but lots of desserts. My husband's favorite dessert that my grandmother makes is her cherry cha-cha. He could eat half the pan. I cant wait to share it with Paighton now when the holidays come around.

So Domino's pizza is now an added food to my list of "Paighton-Safe". Although it is challenging at times with his food allergies, it is getting much easier. It is so exciting sharing my food with him. I love my little cutie-patootie!