Grieving With Others

You know, I was never a fan of funerals and potato salad or dying people or dead ones or death or pretty much anything that had to do with end of life.  As a kid, from grade 3 and then throughout junior high and high school, a friend, classmate, relative, or pet, died, each year.  Super fun, YEAH!

When I was really little, like preschool age, the guy across the street backed over his son.  My mom was gardening and heard him yelling at his big brother (only 4 at the time) that he was supposed to be watching his little brother.  Messed up...

After my friends and I walked home from the bus stop one day, about a half hour later I heard emergency sirens and a helicopter.  My friend, John, who Stacey and Marc and I were just walking with, was in that life chopper, hooked up to machines, on his way to his last breath.  I didn't go to the funeral.

The first funeral I even remember was my own Grandpa's.  Enough people had died in my life by then that to actually have to face it and attend a funeral, at age 16, made me nauseous.  I was FREAKED out!  Likely this was due to my own deceitfulness and sneaking I had done in junior high watching "R" Rated horror films while my parents were gone.

What the hell was I thinking?  You name it, my friends and I snuck and saw it.  Children of the Corn, Poltergeist, Nightmare on Elm Street, who knows what else...

Jacked up.  Like, totally, completely, utterly EFFFFFF-ed up!

Wow.  To think Hollywood makes money off glorifying death and dying and the underworld.  It's the unknown that fascinates, but to horrify it?  Dear Lord.

And now I've tasted death.  In fact, not only have I soaked my dead son with my tears, but I've grieved with others who have done the same.

I've kissed death.  It's bitter.  What if Eve had picked fruit from "The Tree of Life" instead of the tree of the "Knowledge and Evil?"  We never would have tasted the salty bitter emptiness that comes to those of us left this side of Heaven.  We never would have experienced separation from God...

EVE!!!!  #$%^&*(

This month my friend, Carly Marie Dudley in Australia, is hosting "Capture Your Grief" for Pregnancy and Infant Loss.  She's created a Facebook page for people to share their stories according to the topic of the day.  I headed over there just to check it out.  You know, since it's been 5+ years since I held Noah, I was just going over to the site to encourage others, probably new moms and losses.  And then I started reading, and just saying, "I'm so sorry for your loss!" and looking at the beautiful lives affected by death and temporary separation, yet heartache, nonetheless.

And then I posted a picture.  Because it was a call for "Pre-Loss" pictures.  And that was easy, because I posted this:

 
It's a picture of Noah, in my belly, safe and sound.  And it's utter pregnancy joy on my face, looking at myself for the first time in my life and thinking, "Wow!  I'm beautiful!"  And it's a gift to my heart because I didn't know.  All I knew was I would have a son, and I was already in love with him.

Being over at Carly's Facebook page with all those stories is difficult.  It's not cupcakes and tequila.  It wrecks me to know other families hearts will know the same pain mine has known.  I knew when Noah was sick, and after he died, that we weren't the first and wouldn't be the last.  But there's still a hope and a wish it could have ended with *us*.

When I saw my Grandpa, lying there in his coffin, hands folded, handsome, eyes closed, with a little too much make up, a peace I had not yet known in my life swept over me.  I remember thinking, "Huh.  That's not my Gramps.  That's just his body.  He is with God.  He is at rest."

Today the call on "Capture the Grief" was to post about a treasured item.

If you've read here long, you know I'm not attached to things.  Remember my purge fests?  Anyway, I realized, though, my most treasured item is my Bible.  It's my most treasured item because, well, it's my Bible.  Duh.  But, also because the night before we said goodbye to Noah, his nurses brought me ink sheets so we could stamp his feet.  I searched for a clean page in my (at the time) 20 year old Bible.  The only page I could find was opposite the last page.

Revelation 22:20 and "Footprints"

Revelation 22:20  "He who testifies to these things says, 'Yes, I am coming soon.'"

AMEN.  COME, LORD JESUS!

I treasure this for the promise that it is, as well...that life here on Earth is literally but a vapor!

Trekking Around the World

Remember this?

It's been a while.  I wouldn't expect you to, but I sure do.  One night, 5 years ago last November, we had gotten some yummy Chinese take-out and were sitting in Noah's room at The Children's Hospital.  As we finished up and started cracking open our fortune cookies, I grabbed one and said, "This one's for Noah."  If you can see in the picture, that's medical tape, the kind that used to keep tubes and crap attached to my sweet boy.  We used it for other things, as you can see.

At the time I remember thinking, "Oh how great it would be if You would heal Noah, God, and we could go all over the world (a lifetime dream of mine) and tell everyone of Your faithfulness, love and power."  This was my initial response to reading, "You will step on the soil of many countries."

It's because I had seen myself with a grown son...remember?  And so I naturally thought it was Noah...since he was my only son at the time and all.  And Noah did step on the soil of many countries, so to speak, just not physically with his two sweet little feet.  His blog hit every continent before he died, but that wasn't quite what I had been thinking...

Well, fast forward 5 years.  This post isn't about Noah.  It's about how my heart leaps out of my chest every time I see pictures of a sweet mama and her boy, so very much in love, who are on a journey.  It's about how I can't get them out of my mind, not because I want to, but because God continues to put them on my heart, all throughout the day.

I have mentioned him here before, but I'm asking you not to turn away.  I KNOW reading about a kid that is dying is nothing less than gut-wrenching.  It's HARD.  It SUCKS.  It's a volume of books filled with descriptive words that can't really describe the heartache.  I freaking GET IT!  It's why hundreds stopped reading my blog after Noah died.  I understand.  It's not as fun as Pinterest or Facebook or a hundred million other things.

But I'm literally begging you to let your heart pray for Jarrett, Chelsea, Peyton, Conner and Trek, as they set off on a journey of living life to the fullest, one day at a time.

You see, someone close to them contacted me to pray for them...she had read Noah's blog and couldn't stop thinking about some of the similarities.


Here is where my heart is wrecked.  We never wanted Noah to be stuck in a hospital bed his whole freaking life.  That was never our dream for him...but because of a whole hellofalotta reasons, we were stuck.  There were days I dreamed of stealing him out of the hospital and taking him home...but we couldn't because we didn't have home health care at the time.  It was a big mess.  The closest I got to showing him the world was this...whoopdefreakingdo!


Anyway, Chelsea's heart is living out what I wished I could have done with Noah. 


Am I living vicariously through them?  Only the freedom part...I lived all the rest already.

Either way, my heart is crying out for them to RUN, PLAY, LAUGH, CRY, REST, STARE, LISTEN, SING, NUGGLE, SMOOCH, HOLD ON and LET GO all at once. 


I pray for God's love to fill every corner of their lives with such fullness that this time in their lives will ever be etched in their hearts.


I hate what they are going through but if I had it to do over, which I don't wish for, but if I could go back, I'd run like hell out of that hospital and live whatever amount of time I had with my boy, free from the beeps and meds and tubes and tests and pokes and drugs and smells and unknowns. 


I'd run.

I don't despise what we went through, I do have to say, because 5 years later, I'm grateful to at least have the perspective that life is short.  It's time to live, today, right now, to the fullest.  Time and the people in our lives are literally gifts from God for our joy. 


It's time you, or someone you know, stop holding back.


Hug tighter.


Kiss longer.


Stare at your children.


Laugh your ass off.


Play on the floor with your kids.


Tell your husband you love him.

Tell him you are sorry.


Hold hands.


Turn off your freaking television.  Hell, throw the damn thing away.


Forgive.

Stop caring what others think of you.

Trust God sees the bigger picture.  Relinquish the control you think you need to have.


Smile.

Listen.

Play.

Dream.


Live in wonder.

Baby Trek Atlas may not physically touch the soil of many countries in his short life time, but the way he's living with his big brothers and mommy and daddy who adore him...well, he's experiencing more love than many do in a lifetime.  And, if you spend some time reading his mama's blog, I would venture to guess he'll have you looking around, wondering what matters, and making a few changes and tweaks to what is important. 

That's Trek, a 9.5 month old, teaching us a thing or two.  That's him stepping on the soil of many countries...

Life is short.  How will you spend it?

The 411, Part Deux

Sorry! I literally did not intend to leave you hanging but between poopy diapers, homeschooling, pumping, trying to keep my kitchen clean, showering periodically, making meals, snuggling, etc, apparently big nuggets of time are no longer at my disposal. Today I did, however, stay up after Ryan's 5:00 a.m. feeding and do Turbo Jam, as well as showered and made breakfast with Emily. Some days I brush my teeth and that's fabulous. Other days I surprise myself and actually get other things accomplished. My goal each day, however, is to smooch the heck out of my tasty baby boy and stare at my beautiful 8 year old as she learns about God's beautiful love for her and the world. (And, of course, as you might imagine, I wrote the above paragraph two days ago and haven't worked out or showered since...)

So, as I said, that is when the whole scene turned emotional. Honestly, I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Everything seemed like deja-vu with Noah's delivery.

• It was also a Saturday...
• It was a boy, obviously...
• Same hospital...
• None of the doctors from my practice were on call...
• Third party doc on call that I didn't know from Adam...
• Meconium on the scene...again!
  

Okay, so she was probably going to send me home...I mean, I was at a "One" for Pete's sake. And, I learned the inside scoop: nurses and doctors only consider the actual act of PUSHING labor!!!!! I'll give you labor! $%^&*(

Anyway, where was I? Okay, so, I was at a "One"...we've determined that. The problem was the nurse determined this just before shift change so I had to sit and wait for the next nurse to come in and see if anything else had happened. That nurse did come in...and nothing had happened.

So, she sent me on a walk for an hour. I walked the old halls where Emily had been born. They were remodeling areas of the floor, so it was nice and quiet...but it was mauve since that particular wing hadn't been remodeled yet, and let's be honest...mauve is gross. So, I headed back to the room to see if there had been any progression.

...I was at a "One" and a "half" ish...

BUT, the nurse wanted to do one more "procedure".

Did you know that pulling your cervix forward when its facing backwards hurts like a mother #$%^&*(?!?!

Uh, yeah! She was a great nurse and really on top of things (one of my BFF's is an L and D nurse, so she was checking in every so often and told me my nurse was good...), but all she said was, "This is going to hurt but the rest of the checks won't hurt as much..."

I literally almost shot up over the top of the bed! I screamed like a baby and when she was done, I literally rolled over onto my side and sobbed to Jason. I told him I wanted my Pooh Bear (yes, I do still sleep with my 38 year old Winnie the Pooh...what's it to ya?) and that this whole thing sucked and that I didn't want to do this and that it was just too much for me to handle and what were we thinking. The tears flowed. I felt totally vulnerable. It wasn't fluffy and warm and fuzzy. It was scary and it all reminded me too much of the last little boy who took me on a roller coaster ride.

The nurse let me calm down and then monitored little Nacho's heart rate for a bit. She told me she was sorry she had to do that but that she was sure I'd progress from there. She left us to calm down and take short cat naps. Jason babbled something about how we could have slept at home for so many more hours...I ignored him but gave him a good slap upside the head in my mind. Then forgave him quickly...because I'm just that kinda girl.

The nurse came in about half an hour later...

I was at a "Two".

But there was still talk of sending me home. WHAT THE FREAK?!?!

My contractions had slowed to between 3 and 4 minutes. I wasn't too excited about the idea that I could possibly still be sent home...and then I had my first visitor.

Dr. V, the third party doc that delivered Noah, walked into the room. She had her scrubs on, but not to see me. She said she had just gotten to the floor and saw my name on the board. She said that there are some names that just stick with you. She didn't know that Noah had passed away until she came on the floor that day 4 years later...she came in to say hello and to wish me luck. I was blown away. I reminded her of the party we had in the delivery room with all my girlfriends while Noah was born because I couldn't believe she really remembered me. She assured me she did. Who knew after all these years we'd left an impression?!

Back to the story. My nurse came in and checked me.

I was at a "Three".

She had been monitoring Nacho's heart rate and though it was recovering, she still didn't like that during each contraction his heart rate would dip slightly...so she went to make a call...

...and Mr. Favorite Doctor strolled into the room, all smiles, dressed in his shorts and a Polo on that lovely Saturday morning. He said, "Let's get this show on the road and have a baby today."

I choked back the tears that he wanted to help us have a baby on his day off. But, I didn't send him back home :)

He broke my water and ordered Pitocin.

And, like each of my other kids, baby Nacho had stooled in utero so the ICU nurses were alerted that their presence would be necessary at delivery.

Freaking Great! Kid, you're killing me! The last people I want to see in your delivery room are a bunch of ICU people! Can't you just pop out and cut me some slack?!
Well, as I said, I was a bit emotional. I informed the nurse I was not planning on feeling any pain during this delivery so to make sure the anesthesiologist knew his services were wanted as soon as possible. I had gone to a 7.5 with Noah before I thought I'd pass out and finally ordered an epidural, but honestly, I just could not do it this time. I was tired before I ever skipped a full night of sleep, not just due to lack of sleep but the emotional roller coaster I had been on.

Anyway, my nurse started the Pitocin and was tracking my contractions alongside a girl's in another room. Mine weren't off the charts, but I could feel them and they were spreading out a little more. The doc came in to give me my epidural. I was ready to relax and calm down for a bit.

My little sister, due within a week of me (but also given the same due date on one occasion...) came over and painted my toenails. She went home and said she'd stop by later with the fam.

Jason's sister stopped by after class around 2:30 or so to say hi. Then Em and Gina came by to hang out for a little while.

Em brought me my Pooh Bear. I hadn't even asked her to!

I was at a "Four" so Jason informed them that it would be a while...if they had errands to do or anything else, to go ahead and come back later. So they all headed out for a bit.

Mr. Favorite Doctor kept calling the nurse and telling her to up my Pitocin because my contractions weren't that intense...so she obliged and kept cranking up the numbers. They still weren't as intense as the girl's in the other room whose peaks were really big compared to my mild ones...but I was starting to feel them.

In fact, I told the nurse I wanted my money back on the epidural because even though from the waist down I was pretty comfortable, there was this Nalgene bottle sized space in the core of me where I could feel intense pain when contractions came on...and I mean intense!

She called the anesthesiologist and then checked me again.

She said, "Well, that's because he's here!"

The drug doc got there just in time to give me a little something to take off the edge.

Mr. Favorite Doctor came running in next, threw on his scrubs, everyone got into position and I pushed. Nothing. I pushed a minute later during the next contraction. Nothing. I pushed a minute later...

Ryan Everett Graves entered the world at 4:41 pm.

I kept asking if he was okay. Mr. Favorite Doctor gave him a good flip-de-do, sucked out his mouth, massaged his belly a second and Ryan started wailing.

Relief all around!

He was pink.

He was crying.

He was moving around like a healthy baby.

He was different than his brother from the very beginning. I needed that.

Mr. Favorite Doctor put him right on my chest and Jason prayed over him.

Em came back shortly after he was born. We had promised her she'd be the first after us to hold her very own baby brother. She loved him right away. I suspect he loved her, too.

So, that's it. That's the story. Except apparently there was a twist...

On Monday after Mr. Favorite Doctor did Ryan's circumcision (which Jason and I both attended) he came to my room to chat and to write up my discharge papers.

He said, "You know, you had natural childbirth after all."

I said, "No I didn't. I was on Pitocin and had an epidural. Not really natural but I wasn't going for that this time."

He said, "Actually, remember when I kept having the nurse up your Pitocin because your contractions weren't that strong? Well apparently the Pitocin was dripping on the floor, not dripping into you. So, you had natural contractions...you were in labor on your own."

And there you have it. What I thought was a small puddle on the floor left by my 15 month old nephew when he had come to visit was really a puddle of Pitocin.

And, one of these days when I have some time, I'll tell you how we picked his name.

Me and Pooh posting my gratitude for epidurals on Facebook...

My newly painted toe nails, thank you, Danar!

Our strong, brave, healthy baby boy

Big sis running in to meet Ryan Everett Graves, with Mr. Favorite Doctor, our Knight in shining armor, behind her.

Back it up a little...

So, Em and Jason and I went in on Tuesday for our uber-ultra ultrasound. They check for all the important vital body parts.

Most parents look only for genitalia.

Obviously since we seem to produce children with more than just private parts, and since our lives have been radically changed over the past 4 years and since we have friends who have cried through ultrasounds showing them that certain vital parts were not growing in their sweet babies, we were looking for more than just genitalia...so was the ultrasound technician. I asked:

"Is that a kidney? Are there 2? Ureters? Do they empty to the bladder? How many chambers in the heart? A spleen? How about a liver? How about its brain? Eyes? Its jaw? Does it have a jaw? May I see its spine?"

Admittedly, it's sad I can't just look for a hoo-ha or weiner...(don't worry, we use the proper terms with Em...I just don't feel that comfortable with you! Ha!)

As she pushed on, likely, the fullest bladder in the world that morning, she showed me almost every other body part, confirming its presence and performance, before she headed down to check out the femurs. The femurs were...femurish...you know, long and femur looking. So that was good.

But, wait...what was that?

Me: Oh! Huh!?
Tech: Yeah, did you catch that?
Me: Pretty sure I did...back it up a little...
Tech: There you go.
Me: Are you sure that's not just engorged?
Tech: I'm sure. That is what you think it is.
Me: Oh my gosh, Em, you're having a brother! It's a baby boy!
Me: (Sob. Bawl. Sob. Wipe snot. Bawl. Smile. Sob with heaves and lip biting. Smile. Awe. Wonder. Bawl. Wipe more snot.)
Jason: (Quietly choking back tears in the dark room...Em just thinking he had sinus issues...)

Jason and I had planned on naming Noah "Mary" or "Claire" if he had been a girl. We both, likely out of protection of our hearts and emotions, had decided this was a girl. I had even oooohed and ahhhhed over cute girl clothes at BabyGap and found a super duper cute poster of Paris to put in her room.

Deep down, of course I wanted a boy. Boys melt Mommies' hearts. In the 7 weeks Noah was home after he was born I had the worst back and neck pain from staring down at him, constantly. I mean, way down deep love that is quite impossible for me to 'splain so I won't even try...

Back up years...like probably 5 or 6. I walked into one of our favorite local restaurants for take out. There was a mom and her older teenage son in line in front of me. He was tall, maybe a foot taller than his mom, and handsome. I remember looking at them and feeling a promise in my heart of God saying to me that one day I would have a son. I had always pictured him in that stage of life. FF to June 10, 2006 and I was overjoyed that I had a son...my promise. FF to January 12, 2007 and I'm not going to lie at how unfair and sick I felt that promise was...like a "psych" moment, but painful and gut-wrenching...a slap in the face.

FF to Tuesday, April 27th at approximately 9:30 am MT when we saw his parts...and having come through all we have, learning more about the God of the Universe who knows way more than I ever will and is good and has a plan, and trusting that He knows what is best and desires to bless His children...I could not help but bawl my head off, and my mascara, in hope and thankfulness for whatever it is He has in store.

However, at the same time, realizing that He is in charge. I trust Him. He has asked me to live one day at a time. And so, God has blessed me with two sons. One in His presence now and the other kicking the heck out of my entire abdominal cavity...

And I am thankful.

And I am in awe.

And I am treasuring one kick at a time.

And I am hanging onto hope...hope that one day I will meet this sweet little man face to face...and when I do, I will fall in love with him and he with me...and one day...

One day he will throw his arm around my 55 year old shoulder and smile down at me. And I will try to contain the squeals within me, stay cool and not act on all the kisses I'll want to plant on his cheeks and tell him how very handsome he is and how very proud of him I am...I'll just act cool and order our falafels.

Just keepin' it real...

Here's a blurb from one of my favorite movies, if not my favorite, that I'd like to share. I think I've shared it previously, but I recently watched the movie again and was reminded of why I like it so much...it's a scene between Dustin Hoffman and Will Ferrell after Hoffman's character, a literary professor, has just read a masterpiece written by Emma Thompson, a depressive, fatalistic writer, prior to going to print. The book is about the life of Ferrell's character, with everything Thompson writes coming true...

From: "Stranger Than Fiction"...

DH: I'm sorry, you have to die.

WF: You're asking me to knowingly face my death?

DH: Yes.

WF: Really?

DH: Yes.

WF: I can't die right now...it's just really bad timing.

DH: No one wants to die, but unfortunately we do.

DH: You will die. You will absolutely die. Even if you avoid this death, another will find you.

DH: I'm sorry but it's the nature of all tragedies...the hero dies, but the story lives on forever...


I checked out "Stranger Than Fiction" from the library a couple weeks back(check your local library...we can get all new releases and all the old goodies for free!). Jason had gotten it from the library shortly after Noah died, but hadn't seen it since. For me, the timing in my life and the content of the story were interwoven, not to mention Thompson's character that I loved because I literally am 'commentating' life as I see it on a regular basis. It's actually frustrating sometimes because thoughts or commentaries will pop into my head that I know I should write down but either I don't have paper, I'm just drifting off to sleep, or I actually convince myself I'll remember it later when I do have access to paper or a computer, and, it mysteriously disappears from my brain cells, trapped in there tangled with all the other lost thoughts! ANYWAY, that night when I went to bed, after I had taken the time to pause the movie and scribe the above scene, I was lying there letting my brain chill out. It takes a while for me, unlike Jason who sweetly lays his head on his pillow like a little snuggly baby and starts dreamily drifting into 'Neverland'. Well, the lights had been off for a good ten minutes, Jason was out, and I yanked the chain on my light. I had a thought and had to write it. Of course, none of my journals or notepads were near my bed and I was too cold to get out to find one, but found an old envelope in my bedside table and wrote the following thoughts...

Some people have asked me if I've always been so bold...I've lost a child. Does that give me the liberty to say or do whatever the hell I want? Strangely enough, it does. It's given me license to live freely and fully, the way I was intended to live...free from other's opinions of me...focused on the eternal.

Now in sharing this, know that I don't think I can just plow over others' feelings and differing opinions. I'm not saying that. I try not to make that a general practice! But what I am saying is that death, Christ's death for all who believe, has given us all the freedom to live the way God intended us to live. Noah's death has helped me walk in that. When Jesus said that in order to live we must die, He really, truly, sincerely meant it.

I know and dearly love a woman that fears death with all of her being. She has lived in fear of so many things, not only death, and it has physically manifested in her body. It's not just old age because there are still 90+ year olds out water skiing and playing shuffle board. She is gripped by it, and the years of fearing it and her hope to live beyond 100 (not for abundant living purposes...) have literally incapacitated her. I don't know about you, but if I near 100 and am shut off from the whole world, existing, not living, I hope you won't confuse my longevity with a beautiful, long life.
Yes, people will talk about how this woman lived to over 100, but the details of the how she lived won't be the part that lives on forever.

So, since we all die, what will it take for those still out there that fear it to accept it? Will we willingly lay down at Christ's feet with our own lives, dying to ourselves, in order to begin living...I mean really, truly, sincerely, passionately, boldly, purposefully living?!

...just some random thoughts I get when I'm trying to sleep at night...

Down-sizing...Ode to 'Pilot'

My sweetest guy snoozing away in his car seat on the 4th of July in SD...if I had only known...

Oh how I thought it would be a quick stay...

I still had hope here...

I get so pissed, angry, and motivated when I look at these pictures...the first two for obvious reasons, the third sentiment, because NO ONE, NOT ANY PERSON should have to experience what we did...all because doctors just don't look for #$%^&* Lyme's disease! START #$%^&* LOOKING! PEOPLE HAVE LYME'S DISEASE! MY KID WAS #$%^&* BORN WITH LYME'S DISEASE!

Maybe the second or third day...still oblivious that the doctors were oblivious...little did I know that little did they know...

I tried to put these in a progression of chronological order but I can't figure out how to upload them that way...Here, Noah isn't attached to anything except his mommy and daddy...notice that on my wrist I'm no longer wearing his hospital band...to me, that symbolized his freedom...

The progression of untreated Lyme's is dumbfounding. In just a few short months, my sweetest guy who captured my heart, could no longer even open his eyes, and hadn't been able to move for several months...not to mention the obvious need of oxygen and food intake. LYME's SUCKS!

My friend told me she was going through the old blog pics and found this one...her new favorite. I have about 3000 favorites...bittersweet favorites.

OT and PT for Noah. Though the hospital told us that they were scaling back on his treatments since he was 'just going to die anyway'.

My sweetest girl being chased by a pack of wild, cute puppies on our only family road trip to SD

One of our few family photos taken outside the hospital life, when life was sweet, at Hacienda Colorado, the Mexican restaurant Noah frequented in my belly, went to once (here) and where we had friends and family gather after his service

Noah and Em in their car seats, ready for Noah's very first car ride ever from the hospital 1.5 miles down the road to his first home

I realize this post is raw. And do you want to know how it all started?! Yesterday we dropped off our Honda Pilot at the dealership and walked away from it for good. It may sound dramatic...not trying to. We are trying to steward our finances better and just because we do have two cars doesn't mean we need two cars, so we made the decision to keep the one we actually own. Profound, isn't it?! Anyway, it's an inanimate object, obviously, but leaving it behind yesterday conjured up more memories than I would have expected...memories that will never be left behind.

Right before Em was born we bought a used Accord. It's the car she came home from the hospital in. We also had a red Blazer. Then, a while before Noah was born, a guy hit us and wrecked that car. We got the Pilot. The Pilot is what Noah came home from the hospital in.

Believe me, it was my idea to get rid of the car since Jason works from home and Em's school isn't far. I get that for us, two cars is nice, but in reality it's a luxury. I'm not going to lie that I loved the heated seats, but I can warm up my buns by exercising. I can ride my bike to get her or something or borrow Jason's sister's car. It's just a car. I just didn't realize how many memories it had carried over the years...road trips, and then, of course the ruts we wore as we made the same trip daily with it to and from the hospital...and then the day Jason and I drove Noah's sweet little lifeless body across town to the mortuary. It's where Em and Noah got to sit side by side in their car seats for 7 weeks together. It's another chapter, but I just didn't expect the sorrow to come. Financially it feels good to be free from it. Emotionally I am grateful that God has blessed me with a mind, heart, and arms that will never forget.

Jason: You doing okay?

Me: I miss my kid...

Pause...

Me: The dead one.

Jason: I gathered that...

It's just a daily journey, this thing called life, this thing called grief, days filled with joy, others with sorrows. It's part of the bigger picture, but only just that...a part, not the whole. One day, we will know in full. I look forward to that day!

Sweet Guy...

January 12th, in the wee hours of the morning

God, I'm not really sure how it all works...well, obviously, but especially concerning my son, who is in Your full-time care...You see, I love him. And I know You do, too, and that is why he is free and healthy in Your presence, but You know, You don't always work the way I think You should, and, honestly, I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in that sentiment...Believe me, Lord, I know that You are good. I love You and have more faith in You today than yesterday and yesterday more than the day before. I know You know that we here don't get it. I know You know we can't see the bigger picture. I know there is more living to be done, in Your presence, and this place is temporary. I guess I just want to say, "Thank You" for not allowing us to have to live this side of Heaven without You. All the stuff I don't get, I lay at Your feet...that's where faith enters in. But seriously, having a son of my own, I don't know how You did it, but I am eternally grateful You did, because without Christ, I wouldn't have the hope of one day living in Your presence...and now, one day, claiming my treasure stored up in Heaven. Thank You.

P.S. You know the routine...

First, kiss the bridge of his nose where my lips fit perfectly (Yours probably do, too, I'm guessing...), then each cheek, his lips, his eyes, his forehead, nibble each ear lobe, his toes, his fingers, elbows, knees, his belly...make silly sounds on his belly and his neck, please...back up to the bridge, repeat all steps, repeat all steps, enjoy, Lord...enjoy...because I miss him and everything I have is in black and white or one dimensional...You have the real thing...he must be pretty amazing...

More to follow...

Check this out:



http://cw2.trb.com/



Click on: Mom marks one year anniversary of son's death



Here's the transcript:



http://cw2.trb.com/news/kwgn-locks-of-love-group-donation,0,1145518.story?coll=kwgn-home-2



I'll post pictures of our before and after shots soon. I actually didn't personally take pictures because I was walking around, looking at my friends cutting their hair off to remember Noah and humbly thanking God for blessing me with such wonderful women in my life...



Jason and Em and I had a good day together with family and friends. We received many cards, emails, beautiful floral bouquets, and loving gifts. We are so thankful so many were celebrating Noah's first year in heaven along with us. One gift we received wrecked me, but in a wonderful way...Jason's sister sent 'The Velveteen Rabbit' book along with a sweet little stuffed rabbit. It was the first time I really saw that story for what it is worth. Of all days, yesterday should have been the day to start wearing waterproof mascara, but why start now?!



As far as one year goes, the reality is, it is just another measure of time. I didn't miss Noah more yesterday than I had the day prior or less than I will in 3 weeks from now. One thing, however, that was poignant were the vivid memories of what we were doing minute by minute one year ago. Everything from our photo sessions to Jason and I sleeping with Noah between us his last night, and then our last night in the hospital with him, lying still amongst his stuffed animals, free from all of his wires and tubes, was fresh in my mind.



The irony is that the reality of this whole journey is often surreal. The further I get from the day he died, I have to pinch myself and ask God if Noah was really here or if that was all some strange dream in bizarro world. I know it sounds weird. I am sure anyone who has experienced a loss feels the same way at times. Anyway, celebrating the day Noah entered eternity by cutting our hair to help other sick kids and children with cleft palates...well, I don't think Noah would have wanted it any other way.

My Empty Shopping Cart

Something strange that has happened in the last year is my aversion to grocery shopping. Em and I used to go regularly on Wednesdays or every other Wednesday before Noah was born. It was our routine. She would grab one of those mini kid size carts and follow me around the store, the whole time I'm praying that my heels don't get plowed over. So then, Noah was born and was at home for only 7 1/2 weeks. 2 of those weeks Jason was out of town for work and one of them, the four of us were in South Dakota, so I only went grocery shopping once during that time frame. When August 2nd came along, grocery shopping was the last thing on my mind. Also, our families were in town for 5 1/2 months straight, running those errands for us, so I knew Em wasn't going to go hungry. It was a burden lifted, not to mention meals at the hospital for those months!

After January 12th, we still had family in town for a while, but our freezer was stocked full, along with our cupboards, and people were still helping with that particular errand. So, here we are on June 14th and my husband asks me quite frequently if I'm ever going to go to the grocery store? I have gone a few times since Noah died (yes, I realized it's been 5 months and I only said 'a few times'...). A couple months ago I went but I didn't realize how much emotional fortitude I had to muster just to get groceries. I went because at my house, eating the archives of the pantry doesn't fly well with the hubby. He's not high maintenance at all, but where Em and I could get by eating breakfast for dinner or veggies and a can of beans from the back of the bottom shelf...well, Jason...not so much. He likes chicken or salmon and veggies, maybe some rice or potatoes. And though any kind of vegetable, save eggplant, is my favorite food of all time, it means going to the grocery store...AND THAT MEANS NOAH'S NOT IN MY CART, GRABBING HIS TOES, COOING, SMILING, AND STARING BACK AT ME.

Yeah, I figured it out.

I have a hill to traverse and it's the mental picture, or what is lacking in that picture, of me at the grocery store. It may sound small to some, and believe me, I don't feel sorry for myself, nor do I expect it from someone else. Jason is fully aware of my aversion to the grocery store now. He's gone and done it a few times, but he always goes when he's hungry and brings home bags of chips and Milano cookies! One day a few months back Em and I went to the store, without a list, mind you, and upon hearing the total bill from the checkout clerk, my jaw almost hit the floor! I didn't know what we really needed, and just kept buying multiples of things so I could stock the cupboards and not have to return. I remember coming home with 4 jars of spaghetti sauce...except we rarely eat spaghetti! With that ticket, you would have thought I was feeding of family of 5 teenage boys, not a husband with a moderate appetite and a four year old that would eat quesadillas and apples every day of her life if given the chance.

So, all that to say, I'm asking for a couple extra prayers to be sent up for the mental blockage I have over missing Noah at the grocery store. It's not like we spent so much time there together! I don't have all these wonderful memories that make me sad about 'the time Noah helped me pick out a beautiful artichoke' or 'remember how the meat counter lady sliced the turkey...' And it's not that I sit there and bawl, either. I can't quite put my finger on it, but if I don't get my buns in gear and get to the store soon, just a financial pointer for all...everyone should buy stock in Qdoba and Tokyo Joe's! No, seriously!