The Paperwork Trail in Death

This week is hard. I'm making stupid mistakes. Like, this morning, I tried to start the van with the key to the car. That doesn't quite work.

Or I went to dial a number and entered 206 instead of 286.

The list could go on and on. I can be so silly sometimes and unintentionally at the moment.

Speaking of silliness, my middly son yesterday said that he had an idea. We just buy the house. Good idea kiddo.

Well we just learned that the medical examiner has closed Andrew's case and we should see the report today in the mail. So I'm filling out the life insurance paperwork. They've asked for the cause of death. Oddly, the coroner could not find a cause of death. How weird is that. We were curious and thought they would come back with this long technical phrase of medical jargon to explain something like excessive brain damage or swelling or something. Nope. They don't know. It's frustrating becuase we had to wait 9 1/2 weeks to learn that they are not sure why his existence ended physiologically. Another milestone. Another step closer to closing out the necessary things in this overly complex paperwork trail.

The only thing that has been slightly easier is the funeral home. They were expecting the first paymnet on Monday, the 15th. I had to call them and apprise them of the situation. No autopsy, no claim for the life insurance policy. No claim for life insurance equals no funds to pay off the funeral.Thankfully they know the situation, backstory and all that and will not charge us interest. When I submit the claim, I'll have to update them.

On happier fronts, we had an inspection on the house yesterday. She's sound. She's home. I know it. And I'm so excited about it. I try to imagine our life there and find the images come with ease. I also imagine how to decorate, how to make it home, make it ours. I wish we could move now. The boys thought that after the inspection we'd move today. They gave me questionable looks when I said that we still had more things to get done before we could move.

Mark can't wait to get out of the apartment and away from the reminders of Andrew's accident. I'm wondering when we'll be able to put up a collage of him. One picture just won't do it. A collage with his darling footprints. I smile when I think of that. He was such a beautiful boy. But right now I can't handle seeing his face in pictures. The very nerves in my heart and chest start aching in pain.

Andrew, I wish you were moving with us here in this life physcially. You would love the house.

Well back to life.

The Cycle of One Most Dear - a poem

Andrew,

How sad it is that your fall and winter came so soon little special. This week I think of you more concretely than I have in a few weeks. I guess this may be because the rhythm of my workload matches what I was doing the week you died. So it’s hard to concentrate. It’s a struggle to stay focused. And there are some very dear friends that I wish I could call and talk to. Friends, from other the years, that I hold dear in my heart but am unable to contact for different reasons. So that amplifies the sorrow and the missing and the pain. Because I’m missing them too right now.

I still love you sweetie. I will always love you!

Someday I'll explain the following. It's just what's on the surface right now.


The Cycle of One Most Dear
 By kk

This was the cycle of one most dear
This was the course of a life
This was the route of a dearest son
This was his journey through

How miraculous his springtime was
How sudden came his summer
How tragically his fall arrived
Too soon approached his winter

He said his death was lesser pain
He shared the anguish deep
He told of trials of his life
Intense times of greater grief

How sad his fall arrived abrupt
How sudden winter ensued
How tragic was his loss to us
Too soon his life was loosed

This was his course the path he chose
This was his decision free
This was his act of love to us
This was his selfless deed

Great love he gave with just his eyes
Great joy words can’t convey
Great selflessness displayed to us
Our boy so proud are we

Another Sunday and Reflections on Andrew's Birth

My two oldest will start school soon. It will be the second oldest son's first day of school and my oldest will experience a new school with his younger brother. I can't help but think that I was carrying Andrew at this time last year.

I pack up the only home Andrew ever knew. While I am ecstatic to finally get to l;ive in another home and not be renting anymore, I am saddened because we will say good-bye to another link to our dear son. All of his things are packed away now in a bin in our bedroom. And his form that I touched physicially now lays in the ground.

Mark wants to move Andrew's things out to the garage and I can't stand that thought right now. I even sleep with one of the blankets he got last Christmas. It's a blanket that I would drape across my lap as I nursed him in the NICU. A bit silly I guess but it is something he and I shared together. It's a reminder of him, that for some odd reason, doesn't cause me great pain when I see it.

Andrew and I often snuggled. He loved it. I loved it. We would snuggle sitting, reclining or lying down. It was something I did with him more than I did with the other boys. I think he felt so secure and loved and at peace next to me and in my arms. That was always what his eyes seemed to tell me. You see, his eyes spoke to me from the first. I was the first one he opened his eyes to. The nurses and Mark both told me that he didn't really open them for them. So that was a special thing for me. Something I now treasure.

And I lavished the hugs and kisses on him along with my encouraging words on how big he was getting to be, how strong he was, how fast he was growing and how soon he would be able to run with his brothers like he was longing to. He was small for his chronological age but he was precious to me. And growing up so fast. Getting to be so big.

Now having three others living, I am obviously an experienced mother. I have cared for other infants of my own prior to Andrew. I had carried them, labored long and hard and birthed each of them. But I never had an experience like I did with Andrew.

Part of it was that itt was hard to know what to expect when you have your water break so early. It was unknown how developed he would be when he came.And a bit scary and unsettling to be on bedrest. But it was some private time he and I had. I had few people to talk to and got so depressed in the hospital. Granted, due to my nature, I don't mind seclusion and need "alone" time to refresh and recharge. But two and a half weeks with only hospital staff, nurses, a few volunteers and short visits from my family, I found myself really struggling with loneliness and aloneness. So I talked to Andrew quite a bit during that time and would run my hand over my belly asking him how he was doing. And crying to him. And telling him that I didn't want to watch "The Santa Claus" movie series yet again for the fourth time or so.

There was also the way he was born. He was the first C-section. My belly still bears the scar of where his little body was taken out of me before he endured too much stress during labor and possibly die. And the slight potential I would bleed to death.

And then there is also how I didn't get to take him home when I went home. I had to visit him and he was like an "underdog".  That always gets me.

But there was more. Between the time of his next oldest brother's birth, two and a half years prior to Andrew's, and Andrew's arrival, I had experienced some profound inner healing. The leaps I made during Andrew's gestation emotionally and spiritually, were so significant, it was like I felt myself mature a great deal and "grow up" in a sense. So I think I was finally comfortable with the fact that I was a mother.

With my first, I was so overwhelmed and felt so unprepared to mother that I wasn't able to hardly comprehend how special he was and enjoy that time more. Then with the second, I was overwhelmed that we had two so close together. They are 15 1/2 months apart. And then pre-eclampsia almost took my life the week after he was born. Then came the third and I was in unbelief that we were having another.

I may have been hesitant and not overly ecstatic when I found out I was pregnant with Andrew, but after seeing the initial ultrasound confirming the pregnancy and its validity, I began to love him as I love the others. And I wanted him bur still felt some trepidation. But the healing God did in me was so profound and reached into such depths, I was like a new woman. A new mother.

Now, don't get me wrong. It's not as though I had no enjoyment of my boys, or wasn't a good mother, no one is a perfect parent. But I have always strived and longed to be a better mother. More of a mother and felt as though I was not making the mark. I think we all feel this way at one point or another. But the experience I had had changed me significcantly and now I know how to handle things better. Not that I have arrived. No, my journey is not done yet.

Still I know that what God did in me made me better able to handle the hospitalization, Andrew's early arrival, NICU and all that came with that much better and with a greater ability to be present in the moment more than ever before. It enabled me to have a relationship with Andrew that has marked me for all time and allowed me to give to him in a way I had never been able to or equipped to with the other boys.

So I was so anxious to meet him by the time he came. And was so glad when they said it was time. And then I saw him. Tiny. Perfect. Little. Crying and breathing at 33 weeks! All body functions showing normal signs as though he was full term. A miracle! My little special, Andrew Michael.

Another Milestone

We got the death certificate today from the funeral home. I can't believe that I'm walking this path. When I dreamt of being a grown up, I imagined myself as a mother and taking care of babies and teaching them and loving them. I dreamt of my future family (not that I can tell you any details of what that involved besides a husband and kids). And in my youth and innocence, never imagined that part of the fulfillment of the dream of motherhood would bring the loss of two of my children. One before birth and one after.

While my longing for Alexa, my daughter has lessened and the pain is endurable now, I still often reflect on her even though I never saw her face in this world. Never held her precious form or kissed her darling brow.

But Andrew, Andrew is a different path of grief and loss. I carried him longer, suckled him, changed his diapers, bathed him, held him, cuddled him and adored him. He was my little special. My son who brought me great joy as his brothers also do. The one I have had the strongest bond with of any of my children at this age.

And now I have an official state document from the County Recorder documenting his official notice by the government of his death.

It shouldn't be this way. I still shake my head at the thought that he's gone. The corners of my  mouth still draw downward when the sorrow of his loss arises in the very depths of my being.

You didn't just touch my heart Andrew.
You touched my soul.

And I love you and miss you terribly.

Well the state has now documented his passing. Good for them.

Another milestone.
Another day without him.
Another day of craziness at work trying to accomplish more than the hours allow.
Another day of stresses trying to close on a house. A bright spot in the midst of finalizing the official things of Andrew's.
Another day where I worked late to get the deadlines met.
Another day where I was sustained by the Lord as I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.
Another day where God was gracious and kept me going when I wanted to stop.
Another day ending with my, now youngest, son calling out, "mommy" from underneath his door because he wants me to love on him before he goes to sleep and my oldest heading off to bed with hugs for his mother who has tears in her eyes from reading the Death Certificate.
Another day without Andrew.
Another day with the rest of my family.

Andrew, you're my little boy, you're my little special joy.
You are my special one, my little special son. You are my Andrew.
I love you sweetheart! I will always love you!

The Little Hands of My Little Special

When Andrew discovered he had hands his eyes grew really big, sparkled and glazed over in amazement at these wonderous things that were part of his body. He was about 4 months old or so. Gosh he must have thought they were just awesome. He’d stare at them and then move his arm around while watching his hands. In fact, he very quickly learned he had two of them even and, how neat is this, they could  touch each other and the fingers would interlock. Now granted, it may not have learned the terms for these appendiges on his little body but he loved reaching out with those little hands of his and touching things.

 He grabbed my shirt tighter, in an almost iron grip, when I picked him up. His grip was so tight in fact, that I had to pry to finger under his and force it off of me. This was usually met with those beautiful, big blue eyes staring at me with such cuteness as though saying, “But mommy, no. I don’t want to let go of you.” It was just dear to me.

He also liked to fold his fingers across his little belly or chest, depending on his mood, and sit back and watch everything. He looked so serious sometimes. Intent on trying to figure out the world around him and make sure he didn’t miss a thing. Sometimes he even just touch the tips together. Then we would really chuckle at how “grown up” he looked in his little tiny body. It was great!

Then he found out he could reach out and grab things in those hands and the wide eyedness just started all over again. It was hilarious. At that point he would grab at the hanging animals on his bouncy seat and would stare at Pooh and Piglet on his swing and touch them. I think he thought that he almost had it all if only he could walk and run with his brothers.

Now, during most meals, when I was home or with my family, I would seat Andrew on my lap. He would be perched on my left leg either facing me or away depending on his age and his mood. I never wanted him to feel left out. Especially after the stage when he was awake at suppertime and would nap either right before or right after. So this was a ritual for me. I’d grab my little sweetie, kiss his forehead and rest him close to me and sit down. And I would eat one handed. No big deal.

Well, one day, we were eating spaghetti for dinner as a family. Andrew was in his usual spot at my side and was looking all around as usual, so curious about what was going on. And suddenly I heard a loud plop and felt spagetthi sauce hit my hand, chin, cheek and shirt all at once. I jumped a bit since it startled me and looked down. There was Andrew’s arm on my plate. “Well,” I said as I looked down met by his big, inquisitive eyes. I smiled at him, chuckled to myself and reached for a towel. “Aren’t you just wanting to grab everything.” I could sense he was smiling a bit thinking that was kind of neat. I cleaned off his little hand and arm and gently told him that he wasn’t to grab at my food. Then I moved my left leg out and got him as far away from my plate as was possible. “I guess the fun’s already started. I’ll just have to make sure you’re farther from my food until it’s time for you to get some.”

We had been feeding him little tastes of soft, runny foods like mashed potatoes, pudding, vegetables, etc. He wasn’t really liking  any of it. But he was staring down that road.

“He’s hungry,” commented my husband. Then he looked at Andrew, who was now looking at daddy awaiting his response to the situation. “I bet you thought that was pretty neat huh.” He grinned. Such a pill.

We both chuckled, as did our other boys and the meal continued on without any further incidence. He never did do that again.

Touch was huge to him. He and I snuggled a lot. He loved it and so did I. He liked the closeness and then when he discovered those hand things, holding my finger and touching and being touched were even bigger to him. And I loved obliging his need for affection. If you would have stopped by our home, you would have seen him in my arms when you came to the door or quickly thereafter, in my arms. He was my little special.

The Effects of the Away - a poem

The most horrendous thing happened yesterday
The most little special breathed his last and away.
The one that I carried inside me so long
The one I delivered who came out so strong.
The miracle boy that surprised all the docs
The miracle child that defied all the clocks.
The son that I cherished and loved with my heart
The son that I treasured and played a huge part.
My special one tiny, a doll's size at first
My special son, precious, that made my heart burst.

I would sing and would smile and would kiss him so much
I would tickle his belly with oh such a fuss.
For he filled a most special place inside of me
For he loved us all greatly as content as can be.
I'd hug him and hold him and give him such love
I'd squeeze him and stroke him a peacegiving dove.
He'd smile, and giggle and coo a reply
He'd lift his one eyebrow, I swear it's no lie.
My cheek to his gently, my lips to his brow
My arms would embrace him, I miss that so now.

What's this? Your face ripples, it's fading away.
What's this? Your face fading, oh heartache today.
That day my heartache was intense and insane
That day when my loss it inflicted such pain.
A part of my heart left and now is no more
A part of myself died and hurt to my core.
You were taken and stolen, you could not sustain
You were taken no waking you would ever regain.
So we said our good-byes and we shed heavy tears
So we treasured last moments that should have been years.

And now my heart's heavy and my heart is sad
And now my heart longs for the treasure I had.
The treasure that's now with the Lord up above
The treasure that lives where there is perfect love.
He'll never know pain now and never know fear
He'll never know suffering or shed any tear.
My special is happy, is loved and accepted
My special's with family and now is perfected.
Though this gives us comfort and gives us some peace
Though Jesus walks with us our pain doesn't cease.

So now, we stay on here to live out our days
So now we continue modified in our ways.
We keep moving on though we miss his dear song
We keep moving on though forced, this was so wrong.
Time moves so slowly and all have forgot
Time has passed on since we prayed and we fought.
Days turned to weeks and now it seems no one knows
Days became months and my heart feels the tow.
We still miss him dearly, we still miss him lots
We still wish more time is what we would have got.

You see tomorrow marks two months since he passed that day
You see no one remembers his life slipped away.
I am sad that few knew the delight that he gave
I am sad longing for his touch which I crave.
But I thank God for giving him to us those days
But I thank God for blessing us so with his ways.
For his presence added much to our home and our boys
For his life touched us deeply and brought many joys.
And one day we'll see him united again
And one day we'll live there enjoying God's reign.

Until then we process the caverns of pain
Until then the shadow of death will not maim.
For the pain will not linger or stay here forever
For the pain God will heal, grant release from this tether.
For our God is faithful and our God is good
For our God He overcomes all as He should.
Until the grieving is ended and the pain is all gone
Until God delivers we'll see how He's strong.
He'll sustain us and keep us and walk with us too
He'll stand by our side as He carries us through.

I Thought I Saw You Today - poem

I Thought I Saw You Today

by KK

I thought I saw you today

So subtle from the corner of my eye

A shadow, a mirage of your soul

Is this you? Is this really you?

I thought I heard you today

So slight the peep from your lips

A whisper, a hint of your heart

Is this you? Is this really you?

I thought I felt you today

So strongly, I extended my hand

A desire, a need of your presence

Is this you? Is this really you?

I turned to see you today

So slowly like living a dream

A shadow, a mirage of my heart

It’s not you. This isn’t you.

I turned to hold you today

So empty the very air that I stroked

A shadow, a mirage of your presence

It’s not you. This isn’t you.

I turned to hear you today

So cherished the few laughs that we shared

A whisper, a hint of your soul

It’s not you. This isn’t you.

I thought I saw you today.