Another Saturday - Another Anniversary

It's Saturday. Tomorrow is Andrew's 15 month birthday. Happy Birthday little special!

Funny. It takes a lot more effort to remember the anniversaries now. How odd. Up until his 1 year birthday I could not help but know what day of the month it was and what it represented. And it seems that now, the 4th and the 18th can come and go without a whole lot of notice.

Maybe I should be feeling more freed but it just plain feels odd.

So it's Saturday. I made special lunch today, played a rousing game of Candyland with two of my boys and supper will be a picnic on our deck. We've done that for the last two nights in a row. The weather is so uncharacteristically warm. It's wonderful but odd. For March we should not be in the 70's. But we are enjoying this.

And Mark, for some reason, took off with the boys and has given me the afternoon to enjoy some quiet seclusion. So I've taken a nap. Not unusal with the pregnancy that's for sure. I'm so exhausted all the time. And on Saturdays I just crash. I can accomplish some things but at some point in both morning and afternoon I just suddenly shut down. In other words, whether sitting up or lying down, I conk out for a few hours at a time. And I sleep hard.

So We're Pregnant

When I told Mark that we were pregnant, he started to cry. Mark has never had this reaction when we've learned this news. Granted, tears of joy, yes. But he was afraid. Concerned. And really struggled with being excited.

By the time we found out, the Lord had been working in my heart preparing me for this news. So I was mostly at peace with a bit of trembling and hesitation on the side. Although I did wonder if it was really a good time for this. 

At first, we didn't want to tell anyone. I called a friend who was ecstatic for us. But we waited before spreading the news around.

We were a bit afraid of this new life and what it could bring. We were concerned with the things that we knew we would have to face now in our grief. Walking a similar path that we walked with all of our children but this time, it would be different. This baby's development and birth and first 5 1/2 months of life, would remind of us of the joy of these things with all of our other boys. We always reminisce together about the other pregnancies, births, etc with each one that we've had. But this one .....

This one comes on the heels of the last life only being with us a short time. A life bookended by hospital stays and intensive care units.

What will this stir up in us that we haven't had to deal with yet as we have mourned Andrew's passing? And how will we handle it?

Can I still go to my mommy's group? Or will my pregnancy remind the mothers that struggled for years with infertility only to lose their only or both of their children in tragedy?

How will family and friends react? Will people think it's too soon? Will people think we're nuts? Or that we shouldn't do this?

I tell you this. A part of me hopes for a girl because I think a girl would be easier for all of us to handle. No transference of Andrew to this baby by our boys or us. We've never had a girl to diaper and dress. Then I don't have to figure out yet what to do with Andrew's cloths? Do we put the new baby in the items Andrew wore? Or do we keep those packed away out of sight?

Will I cry every time a milestone passes with this child as I celebrate the wonder of life with this new one and grieve what I lost with Andrew as a mother?

Well, I don't have all the answers. I just know that some may not approve. And that's their opinion. Others will rejoice with us. Some will hesitate for us or be a bit afraid for us. But I do know that for now, God has given us a new little one. And how ever many days this one has, we love it and look forward to sharing with it whether a boy or a girl.

The Dream of Another

I have felt a stirring in me since the New Year started. Nothing constant. Just off and on. A desire that would come and go. Something I thought was probably just me missing Andrew.

I shared this with my sister. How I was starting to want to have another baby and quickly added that I thought it was purely the grief. But the stirring would still start to arise every few days or so.

I didn't think it was wise yet to get pregnant. I also didn't think that Mark was ready for this. And then I began to sense what I always sense when God's about ready to make it happen. I began to sense that the time was coming to get pregnant with our next child. (Some would say this is crazy but I really do get this feeling or knowing or whatever you want to call it that we will get pregnant.)

Of course, at first, I dismissed this as grief or probably just a year warning to help warm me and Mark up to the idea. Afterall, it's hard to know how soon after I start sensing the next one that it will happen. For Matthew it was a good 6 months that I refused. With Andrew I flat out told the Lord, "no" I didn't want to have another unless He's guarantee it was a girl.

After Andrew died, God told me we would have another to give back what we lost. Not that another baby would replace Andrew. No one could. More, God wanting to bless us with another because He knows that we are sad that Andrew was taken from us. (And no, I do not blame God at all for our little special's death.)

Anyway, I figured, oh it was probably not going to happen for awhile. I wasn't ready. I was a bit more willing to consider another pregnancy with Andrew gone. But . . . . . were we all really ready for that. And then I had the dream.

A woman told me that if I was pregnant, the baby would be due on September 14th. I remember doing a double-take in the dream and saying in shock, "what?" And the lady repeated it again. "I said, that if you were pregnant, the baby would be due on September 14th."

I immediately woke up from that and thought, "what?!?"

The next week we found out we were pregnant. And we are due in the fall.

What are you up to Lord?

The Haunting

It is hard to describe how you feel when you lose your child. Words do not really suffice. Even word pictures can fail or poetry or music. They can capture different parts of it. Little snapshots. But you would have to put all of the pieces together to begin to get a glimpse until you walk this path on your own. Then the snapshots speak in full-color, highly defined, larger than life panoramic views.

Today was just another day in our new normal life.

I went to work.
Samuel did his homeschool lessons.
Alex and Ryan played.
The homeschool computer died, literally. It wouldn't start back up after it was shut down.
And my husband struggled a bit.

I knew he was a bit tired today and a bit down but I didn't know to what extent. While Mark can be open at times, but those moments are not frequent. So I drove home at the end of my day and wondered what the evening would bring.

I walk through the door and the usual happens. Little boy voices yell out, "mommy!" My youngest runs over to me and hugs my legs. Shiloh scampers over as well, tail wagging and bark yipping as jumps up to give her greeting.

All was normal as I put away my dirty lunch containers in the kitchen sink and head to hang up my coat with dog at my heels. After hanging up my coat, I turned to find my husband standing in the doorway. Then I began to suspect that all may not be normal. Something was up.

"What's up?" I asked him. He had an odd look on his face.

He shared that he hadn't had a good day and stepped closer to me. I knew that he needed me and reached out to touch him when our youngest came between us and rattled something off. He pulled back and went back into the kitchen. I quickly dealt with our son's need, got the dog to back down and went after my husband.

I hardly got to the other side of the dining room table when he turned around and I saw tears in his eyes.

"I kept seeing Andrew's dead body over and over again today."

That caught me.

"It kept playing over and over again in my mind all day. The moment that I found his lifeless body."

His face was extremely downcast and his heart was heavy. That was obvious from his demeanor. And now my heart was sad.

I have had nightmares where there are dead babies everywhere, or seeing children dying or holding a dead baby in my arms. It's the worst when they come in succession night after night. But almost unbearable when they repeat in a night. Terrifying when you keep going into another terror after waking up from a previous one.

The most unbearable though are the memories of Andrew in his last days. And it pains me that Mark is haunted in his own way. In a way I can't imagine. In a way I will never know. And I feel so powerless to help. He and I have talked about how the memories haunt us. But Mark has shared little.

Today, he shared some more. And then he said that he had to have some time to get out of the house as the tears grew heavier in his eyes. I wasn't surprised and let him go to have some time.

How Do You Deal With Your Child's Pain Anyway?

I have been going to the mommies group for about 4 months now. I'm starting to remember their names and stories and the names of their children. We all cry at least once a meeting. But usually more.

Some months we talk more. Other months we share extensively about the details leading up to our child's loss. Others it seems we're all more vague. It just depends. And it's not like we discuss it ahead of time. We are free to share.

The pain. The anger. The hatred. The questions. The differences.

Some of the women struggled with infertility and then miscarried or lost a son early on. Others had tragic stories of premature labor or tragic labors, SIDS or odd genetic disorders.

My son is one of the oldest children to die in the group. That is odd. Some women lost then within a few hours of birth, to stillbirths to one whose son lived for 31 days.

No one lost their child to a freak accident.

I downplay the fact that I have 3 other children. I don't want to seem to rub it in. I don't struggle with infertility. My family line seems to be that way. The stories these women share who do have a hard time conceiving make me sad.

I wonder if any of them think that at least I have other children I have bore. Which is true. But no one has said that. Or even hinted that they are upset I have living children.

And none of them could find anything to say when I shared last month that it about kills me as I think of the pain my sons are enduring in all of this. It's hard for Mark and I. Unbearable even at times. But they are so young. And it's difficult to understand.

One of the other mothers reminded me that kids are strong and they do bounce back better than we think. To not worry.

My response was agreement at her statement. But it was hard to hear them tell me that they wish they had caught Andrew. Or that they are so upset that they were at school and not at home at the time. That they would have protected him. How do you deal with that pain that you feel for them? My voice broke as the tears began to well up. How do you not feel like you are being stabbed in the heart because of the pain they feel that you can't take away from them? I looked down at the floor and began to cry.

The room fell silent. And tears ran down my face as I stopped talking. "I don't know how to deal with that?" And for a few moments, no one spoke.

What was there to say? And someone else shared their pain in a different situation.

I Missed an Anniversary

How interesting.

Over the weekend, it was the 8 month anniversary of Andrew's death. And I didn't notice it. Granted I was a bit down-hearted. But it didn't occur to me.

In fact, I didn't notice the anniversary of his birthday last month on the 18th. It even fell on the same day as my father's birthday and I didn't think of it.

Odd.

Maybe it's a good sign that I'm starting to move on a bit. Am healing a bit from the loss.

And somehow I feel a bit like I have betrayed him. I know I haven't. But it's still there. This little hint that I shouldn't have forgotten. Stop it K. You know you haven't forgotten him. He will always be with you. Will always be in your heart.

Oh this cruel game that grief plays on your mind and heart and body.

If I was a little girl, I would stick my tongue out at it and call it a silly name. Or tell on it.

But seeing as how I am quite a few decades beyond that . . . I will . . . .  . . . . . . I will . . . . . . . . . . I will just cry.

Too Reflective For My Own Good

I remember my son Andrew. I remember so much about him and yet I feel as though I am forgetting him at the same time. How odd when he is often in my thoughts.

I wake up and think of him.
I go to work and I think of him.
I see my other sons growing up and I think of him.
I go to sleep and think of him.
No matter where I am or what I am doing, he is not far my thoughts.

And I know that that is all I have of him now.

Memories.
Thoughts.
Questions.
Feelings.
Moments.
A few things that were his.
A few pictures capturing his image.
Only my mind holds who Andrew was.

A few others knew Andrew. And a few got to meet him while he was alive.

But me . . . I carried him. I had him physically with me for a year since it was at the beginning of June one year that I found out I was pregnant with him. And it was June of the following year that I let go of him.

One thing I wish for so much. One thing I long for and regret. That we do not have 1 single video of him. No record of his little coo's. Nothing to show others his darling little laugh. No video for me to hear him again.

And that makes me so sad.
It makes me want to cry.
It recarves the hole in my heart where he resided.

I miss you little special. I miss you so much at times it hurts too much for me to bear!

Little special.

My little special.