For my Caleb Benedict

I heard this song recently and couldn't stop thinking of Caleb. It's strange because the words talk all about hearing and seeing your baby, which obviously I cannot do. But the line that stuck out to me was "I could never count all the ways that you changed me, baby." Caleb made me a mother and he defines so much of my motherhood. He has changed me more than any of my other children will. I just miss him today a lot. Like one of those days where your heart doesn't stop aching. So in honor of my sweet little boy here is a song for you. I will always love you!

     

Last picture I have of the                                  sweet baby boy

 two of us while he was still alive

Grief at 13 months, 24 days

I wrote previously on where I was in my grief journey at 8 months. I wanted to keep doing these updates from time to time to chronicle for myself where I am at and also for others who are walking this journey too. Maybe it will help another person out there to feel more "normal" after reading these posts during their journey.

13 months and 24 days. I can't believe its been over a year. It seems like just yesterday that I held him and birthed him. But then somedays it seems like it never happened at all, just something that I made up.  That seems to be the trend these days- some days Caleb feels so real and it's overwhelming to think he is really gone. Other days it feels almost easy to forgot the whole thing happened. Just pretend we are a happy family of three with our beautiful healthy daughter and that life is great.

I'm still sad. Still don't really know how to do "happy." I feel more comfortable at funerals than weddings; at sad things more than happy events, at cemeteries more than baby showers. I just feel most like myself when I am faced with suffering, either mine or others.

I'm broken. I feel like the first year after losing Caleb was like lying in a hospital bed after a bad accident. You know its bad, but all you can do is lay there and heal and try to stay alive. Now, after a year, I have survived. I am out of the hospital bed and the bandages are coming off for the first time. I knew the damage was bad, but now I am seeing it for the first time. And I'm horrified at just how broken I am. There are days when I don't think I will ever be whole again. And so the rehab starts. The "learning to live again" starts. And its hard. Re-entering into the land of the living is awkward and exhausting. I just feel like I have so far to go, so much work to still do, so many questions to still ask.

As far as my energy goes, most days it's back to normal. I don't really have to think twice about running to the store or going to the mall. If I encounter hard situations, I'm usually able to bounce back easily. Social functions still seem to drain me. I used to be such an extrovert and now, well I would rather just stay inside. The conversations, the small talk, the updates on people's lives- it all makes me tired and requires a lot out of me. Just interacting with people still feels unnatural. Still feels like trying to ride a bike for the first time. I'm still scared of where conversations could go and that leaves me anxious. Caleb seems to be on my mind and consume my thoughts about 70-80 % of the day. I am either thinking about him,missing him, or reliving some part of that day. Its like a constant soundtrack in my mind that is stuck on repeat. I don't mind it so much anymore, almost used to it.

I hate the word dead. It seems to be all I hear- dead end, dead right, dead serious, battery is dead, dead weight. I never noticed before how often the word "dead" is used as an adjective. When I hear it, it feels like a stab every time.

At 13 months and 24 days I am comfortable with failure. I used to think that the effort you put into something would equal the outcome. Now I know you can do everything right and still get a poor outcome. You can try your hardest and still fail for no good reason and that's just the way life goes. I accept that more now.

Pregnancies are hard, but I am getting better. I don't think I will ever be able to think pregnancy is fun or exciting or something to look forward to. For me it will always be something to get through. I have had to mourn that lately.I just think differently with pregnancies. A friend recently told me that two relatives in her family were expecting at Thanksgiving and Christmas. The first thought I had was, "that will be so hard when those babies die. The holidays will be forever ruined." I just hate that that is where my mind goes first. Then I have to take steps backwards into the "normal" person side and tell myself that most babies live. Its exhausting. I have also had to grieve certain aspects of my birth stories that will always be different. I will always be induced, I will never know what natural contractions without pitocin feel like. I will never have my water break on its own then have to rush to the hospital. Small things, but still things that need to be mourned.

My brain still seems slow. I have caught myself driving and all of a sudden I don't know where I am going. Like completely forget what road I am on and why. Then I concentrate and think hard and it comes back to me within seconds, but it still feels scary. It is hard for me to admit that I am weak.  That I can't remember birthdays or send thank you's like the old me used to. That I don't have it all together,that some days the best I can still do is just get dressed.

I'm no longer scared of infants. Now my fear is of babies that are about a year old, especially boys. I will always see Caleb in children that would have been his age. Sometimes I can find beauty in that, other times it just breaks my heart.

I still want to shop for him. In stores I gravitate toward the baby boy stuff automatically. And sometimes I actually believe I am still shopping for Caleb. The other day I saw the cutest baby boy bath toys and thought "Caleb would love those." Then in about 3 seconds it hit me- he doesn't need those, remember he is dead." Oh yeah- how could I forget? But I do. Its as if my heart and mind can't get the message that he is really gone. I am still nesting for him, preparing for his arrival, even though he is never coming home.

Our life is getting back to "normal." Less nights spent crying, more night spent eating dinner then going out for ice cream. Prayer seems to be harder these days than ever before. It seems that when I was in the midst of the storm, I clung to Jesus and He was so close. Now that we are out of the storm and on safe land, I have a lot of questions for Him. A lot of things I want answered that I know will never be answered. Prayer seems to be so intense and intimate these days that the most I can do is an hour a week.  Every Sunday afternoon I sneak off to pray a holy hour. I love this time and I dread this time. It requires me to look at my life and really bring those things I don't want to talk about, up with Jesus. I usually leave the hour exhausted mentally and emotionally. It is hard work, but I feel like we are making progress. It is necessary work in order for me to keep a relationship with Our Lord.

I love Abigail. Her life is so tied with Caleb's and every day I am thankful for her. She has helped fill that hole in my heart that longed for children. At the same time, I am a little obsessive about her dying. Transition phases seem to be when the fear and terror come out the most. When we first brought her home, when she started sleeping longer at night, when we transitioned her into her crib. I always think she is going to die. Its not a matter of "if" for me, its a matter of "when." Some days I can control how I think and give it back to God. Other days I just hover over her make sure she is still alive. I just don't want to bury another child and now that I know how fragile life is, it scares me. I know babies can just up and die with no warning, for no reason.

Mostly at  13 months and 24 days I just want to be done with this whole grief thing. I am desperate for the world to know just how hard this is, living every day without my firstborn. But everyone and everything moves on, and while I know people don't forget, they still move on. I want to show people just how hurt I still am and how much healing I still need-but I don't know how. I have given up on the "old" me ever coming back, but sometimes I feel pressure to bring her back. To delete the sad story of Caleb and just get on with it already. I guess right now I just want people to know-its still so hard, just a different kind of hard. There is more light, but the damage from the storm seems to still be extensive and all around.

That's where I'm at - 13 months 24 days.

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Can Marriage survive the loss of a child?

I forget

Sometimes I forget that our first child was stillborn. I look at Abigail's room and think "this is the best color blue, but why didn't we paint it pink?" I forget it was already decorated for a boy before it was decorated for her. I forget that I am trying to lose weight from two pregnancies, not just one. I forget that the snow globe in Abigail's room that I wind up each day during her nap was actually a memorial for Caleb. Inside the globe is a staircase and a saying about climbing the staircase to Heaven. When people ask when Abigail was born and her weight, I answer them and forget that we had to induce 3 weeks early because her older brother died. I forget that the bottom drawer in the nursery still holds all the sympathy cards we received after Caleb died. When I am with new friends, I forget that the reason we are friends is because both of our children died. I forget that I even belong to this club sometimes. I forget just how messed up this whole thing is. I forget how hard grieving is. I don't want to forget my son, but somedays its just what I do to in order to keep living. Sometimes I just forget.

Top 10 things I am thankful for b/c of Grief

Grieving is so hard and can be so much work. Only a year into it, I have learned that it requires so much of you, often when you have nothing to give.  Even though its the hardest thing I have ever done, good has come out of it. I was reflecting this weekend on some of the blessings I have received since this grief came into my life. Here are the top ten in no particular order:

1. A better marriage- we are stronger b/c of our loss. We know each other at a whole different level. I honestly could never imagine going through this with anyone other than Nathan. He has been my rock and together we have gotten each other through the darkness.

2. I don't sweat the small stuff. I don't care as much about what people think of me. I see more of the "big picture" of life and can usually let the small things slide by a lot easier.

3. I'm not the planner I used to be. I'm more laid back and flexible. Plans are for people in control and I have learned that I really have no control over things.

4. I am comfortable with failure. I used to think that the effort you put into something would equal the outcome. Turns out that isn't always true. Sometimes things go terribly wrong even when you do everything right. Sometimes you fail for no good reason and I'm more comfortable with that than I used to be.

5. My friendships have grown, changed, and rearranged.  I am able to go deeper with people. I have met some incredible women in the baby loss world and I am thankful for their friendships. Overall, I'm less obsessive about my friendships. I've learned that there are seasons with friends. I try to take what I can get and savor each moment when those seasons come and go.

6. I let others take care of me more. This was something I struggled with before grief. I did not like to be the weak one. I didn't want to be the one who needed help, I wanted to be the one giving help. I have had to literally let people take care of our every need this past year (still are needing people-even after a year!). From meals, to money, to you name it- we have had to have help with it all. And it has been humbling to know that sometimes we cannot take care of ourselves. It has taught me to be a gracious recipient and that sometimes the most charitable thing you can do it to let someone help you.

7. I have more compassion than I ever thought possible. I am not a naturally compassionate person. I was always more of a "suck it up and get on with it," kind of person. At the beginning of my pregnancy with Caleb I asked God for compassion. And He answered me! Now I have compassion for people that makes me want to cry with them. I am much more understanding with others weaknesses. I just know that life is hard and you can't always "suck it up and get on with it." Thank you Jesus for compassion.

8.I am a better mom. I appreciate Abigail and am so thankful for her. Losing Caleb has also made me a better mom because I know Abigail isn't mine. She belongs to God and He can take her back whenever He chooses. I don't want that of course, but its the reality that I accept. Each night before I go to bed I ask God for just one more day with Abigail and that she would bury me. I'm able to understand better the whole "letting your child go," part of parenting. Since I have lived through it, I know what it feels like to give one of your children back to the Lord. I would never want to do that again, but the reality is there that it could happen and because of that I feel like I am a better mom.

9.I'm not scared of death. I want to go to Heaven more than ever before. Knowing that Caleb is in Heaven and waiting for me makes it seem not as scary. It makes death seem like the great moment when all things will be made right. I have seen how much suffering is in this world and truly I have no desire to be attached to this place. Heaven is my home and although I knew that before Caleb, I now feel that and long for that.

10. I'm closer to Jesus and His Mother. I have enough to talk to Jesus about for the rest of my life. He has taken me out to the deep waters and together we have come back in one piece. Mary has walked with me and held me so much of this journey. I was a praying person before this all happened, but after going through everything I really believe in the power of prayer. I know I would not have survived this past year without the prayers that were being said for us. Its very humbling to see how little you are when something like this happens. You begin to rely on the supernatural in a way you never could have imagined before. Jesus is real and He has used this grief to draw me deeper in a relationship with him. Thank you Jesus for being faithful.

So those are the top 10. Mostly I wanted to write them for myself to reflect back on during the hard days. But also, I wanted to show that good can come out of bad. That terrible things can happen and re-shape you for the better. And lastly to give hope to those battling the storm of grief, hang on, there is fruit that can come from the suffering.

Why Mary doesn't look Happy

Growing up Catholic and then becoming a Catholic missionary, I saw lots of pictures and statues of Mary, the Mother of God. I always wondered silently to myself, "why doesn't she look happier?" I mean here is a woman who was chosen by God to be the mother of our Lord. What a privilege. She had the perfect son, the perfect child. And yet, in most of the images of our Lady she appears to be, well, just not happy. She usually has a peaceful look on her face. Her eyes, however, tell a different story. Her eyes always appear to be sad.

When Christ died for us on the cross He gave us His mother to watch over and guide us- to mother us. Now Mary's role included Queen of Heaven and Earth and Mother to all of God's children. I am convinced that this is the very reason Mary looks the way she does. She cannot turn away from the suffering, even in her happiness and joy.

I have been praying a lot on this in the days leading up to Mother's Day.  I want to be happy. I should be happy. And I guess there is a part of me that is happy. Abigail is alive and well and in my arms. And as one sweet lady put it at church today (I am sure she didn't mean it this way) "Oh, honey, this year you can stand up when they bless all the mothers." And all of these things should bring me joy and do bring me joy.

But underneath I still have so much sorrow. More so for others this Mother's Day. I know the depth of pain I feel at losing Caleb. But my heart aches today not only for his absence, but for all the mothers out there who are suffering. Knowing how much pain people are in really makes it hard to celebrate. And I think that is why Mary is portrayed the way she is. She has joy, she has peace, but the majority of her heart is filled with sadness. Sadness for those who choose to turn away from her Son. Sadness for those who have never heard of her Son. Sadness for those who are suffering. Sadness for all the mothers who have had to hold their dead child just like she held her dead son.

So this Mother's Day we will celebrate (still not sure what that looks like or how to do that). But I will struggle with happiness because my heart is like our sorrowful Mother's- its sad. And like Our Blessed Mother I will continue to trust the Lord with all the suffering I encounter. I will continue to ask Him for peace and the grace to follow His will, just like Mary did, no matter how much suffering it brought her.

Mary, Our Lady of Sorrows- Pray for us

In Anticipation of Mothers Day

Its May, the flowers are in full bloom and  Mothers Day is just around the corner. Most people have pleasant thoughts when they think of this holiday. Fun times with moms and children, breakfast in bed, and recognition at Church as they pray for mothers.

For a whole other group of people this holiday is heart wrenching. Far too many mothers will be spending this mothers day without one or more of their children. The following post is one that I wanted to share that sums up some great thoughts on mothers day. The writer, Molly, lost her baby girl to stillbirth at 39 weeks. She had such a great post about getting through mothers day that I had to share it.

Molly's Mothers Day Post

The second post I would like to share sums up what I am feeling this Mothers Day. Having a live baby in my arms and another one up in Heaven, I am feeling divided between two worlds and trying to balance how to mother both of my children. I attend support groups for pregnancy loss where we talk about how to "survive" mothers day. Then in the same week I go to a live mommy and baby group and plan a pot luck lunch to "celebrate" mothers day. I just feel so tossed between two worlds lately and not sure where I fit in. The post  below was written by a mother who lost her first child to stillbirth. She describes so much of how life is like when parenting after a loss. Two lines from her post that I love :

"My life these days feels so defined by my motherhood. And my motherhood still feels utterly defined by my dead child."


" The death of my firstborn, on most days, just seems too huge for me. It has been almost two years and while her loss has been integrated in to our lives now, I still don't understand it. I will still never make sense of the senselessness of it all."


Post on "Invisible Motherhood"


So enjoy these two blog posts from other baby loss mom's around the world. Please pray for all those mothers out there who are going to be spending mothers day without their children. Pray for those who are trying to get pregnant and desperately want a child of their own. Pray for those waiting to adopt and finally get to meet their child. Pray for those who have lost their mother and feel the absence of her on Mothers Day.