Franchesca just posted a beautiful, heartfelt post called Unseen . The words she layed on the screen engulfed me and I found myself lost in world beyond this one. She speaks candidly about her emotions from within. The one's that don't overflow anymore. The one's that are hidden. The one's that sting. The one's that are purposefully unseen.
Franchesca has put into words what resides in my heart... the never ending tug of war between here and there.
"In moments of pure happiness I miss the child that should be in that moment celebrating with us too.
It doesn’t steal the joy of the moment,
Be what goes unseen to the rest of the world, is seen by me."
We just celebrated our oldest son's birthday. We just celebrated our beautiful rainbows 2nd birthday. Today, we welcome a healthy and happy new baby boy into our extended family. Christmas is around the corner and the excitement in the children's eyes is of pure innocence. All of it with just one very important person missing.
So many blessings. So much heartache. So much joy. So much ache.
So much laughter. So many tears... tears that are left to be shed behind closed doors.... "unseen".
Thank you, Franchesca for such a moving post.
Love to you all,
Lea
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Tree Lighting Memorial Service - Guest Speaker
I was invited to be the guest speaker at a Tree Lighting Memorial Service this year.
Last evening I attended and spoke from my heart about the light and dark side of our loss. About the tragedy we have been forced to battle. About the healing along the way.
It was a bittersweet, warm and touching service. Full of hundreds of faces who bear the burden of grief. Full of love, understanding and unspoken wisdom. I was honoured to share our Nicholas. I was honoured to share the evening with my husband, our boys and Little Miss Sunshine. I was honoured to have my parents by my side. I was honoured to have such an amazing platform to reach out and hopefully help to comfort someone as they walk this road of loss.
Thank you, Buddy, for giving mommy the strength to speak at such an emotionally charged event. You are such an amazing little soul.... I couldn't do any of this without your presence.
After the ceremony, while we all watched in wonder and in anticipation as the grand tree was lit I was approached by many of the attendees. Many thanked me for my words, others just wanted to share an embrace. One man in particular offered a warm hug with only the words "we lost our son just 7 months ago... thank you for your courage"... sigh.... unbelievable.
The following is my speech, if your are interested:
Tree Lighting Service - 2011
Good Evening Everyone and welcome,
My name is Leanna and I am honoured to have been asked to speak with you tonight. My family and I attended the service last year and were touched and humbled by the experience. What a beautiful and meaningful way to remember our loved ones. At the end of the evening, when that tree is completely lit in honour and remembrance of our loved ones, it exudes peace and hope and reminds us of eternal love. I truly hope that each and every one of you feels some warmth and comfort tonight as we honour the one’s we have lost and remember their everlasting presence in our lives.
As the holidays approach, many times our grief is amplified. It thickens. It’s deep. It’s raw. The holidays, more than any other time of year, means family and friends together. They are synonymous and it is at this time of year when we are so acutely aware of the void in our lives. Whether our grief is fresh or we are remembering 25 years down the road the pain and the longing we feel, especially on special occasions, can sometimes be unbearable. We are desperate for just one more glimpse. We ache for one more touch. We imagine their faces at each family gathering. We feel them in our souls.
One of the things I have learned on our journey is that there is no right or wrong way to approach the holiday season. Some may wish to follow family traditions, while others may feel the desire to change. Be gentle on yourself. Spend time with the people that YOU enjoy. Include your loved one in conversations and celebrations and follow your heart. Do something for others. Donate in your loved one’s name. Take care of you. All of these things are sure to soothe the soul and comfort the pain, even if just for a moment.
Our journey through grief began just over 3 years ago when our youngest son, Nicholas passed away.
"I would rather have had one breath of his hair..
one kiss of his mouth..
one touch of his hand..
than an eternity without it.."
This has become one my all time favourite quotes. It gets me through the tough times. It helps me to stay focused on the blessings that life has given me. This quote is gently engraved into Nicholas‘ Memorial stone. It embodies our love and appreciation that his life and death have imparted on our lives.
This is our story…..
Three years ago my husband and I received the most devastating, unbearable and confusing news any parent can hear. Our third son, the baby we had planned. The baby we grew with, the baby we loved… was in a desperately grave condition. We were forced to face any parents worst torture ~ the unfathomable reality that our beloved child was unable to survive outside of the womb. The fact that our son’s ultimate fate was death – even before he drew his first breath.
My pregnancy was eventful. At almost 20 weeks I was rushed to the hospital and had emergency surgery to remove an 8 cm cyst that had twisted my ovary. Life-saving surgery for both myself and baby. Several doctor’s, nurses and technicians assured us that our baby boy was just fine. Safe, healthy and totally oblivious to the pain mommy was experiencing. I remember constantly thanking God for that. I gladly took every ounce of pain just knowing that our baby was thriving. As much as his strong kicks hurt my incisions, the tears I shed were those of gratitude. I remember every kick …. Every hiccup and I rejoiced in the fact that we had survived such a life threatening event.
I was released from the hospital and went home to rest. Quite a few weeks later, during a routine scan, my OB requested I be seen by a high risk doctor to rule out any possible problems with our baby’s ventricles in the brain. My OB was fairly certain everything was fine, but with everything we went through to get there, he wanted to be sure. I wasn’t worried. I hardly thought about it. Just an over cautious doctor, which I was grateful for.
In just a few short weeks our lives changed from anxiously expecting another beautiful, healthy son very shortly to living a nightmare in which we would never wake from.
The high risk doctor confirmed that our baby’s ventricles were indeed enlarged. Grossly enlarged…. She immediately sent us to Mt. Sinai hospital where we endured many questions, tests and long, agonizing waits.
I don’t remember much about that day, especially the latter half. I remember being escorted into an office. There were pictures of African animals everywhere…. A trip the owner of the office had taken, no doubt. Pictures of smiling children, happy families… seemingly taunting us. I remember my eyes being glazed over like they have never been before. I remember holding my husband’s hand so tightly.. for fear I would melt to the floor. We sat and we listened through the sobs to the doctors talking about our baby. Our perfect little boy. The baby who we were told was perfectly fine just a week ago. We listened as they told us that his sweet little brain had ceased to develop or it had recessed after my attack, my surgery. All that continued to run through my head was that I deprived my own child the very oxygen and blood necessary to grow…. I failed him. I failed my husband, I failed his brothers who were so desperately awaiting his arrival. I failed his grandparents…his Aunts, his Uncles….. I failed myself.
A week later, at 35 weeks pregnant, I was induced and our beautiful baby boy was born….. sound asleep. I will always remember that overwhelming feeling, just moments after I felt him leave my body, of hoping beyond hope for a cry… that somehow the doctor’s were wrong… that he fought through… I prayed for some kind of miracle as the primal screams of desperation escaped me.
We were able to spend so much precious, memorable time with our boy. We named him Nicholas Warren and he was perfect. He’s still as perfect as ever. He has such a strong presence in our lives. Nicholas is loved, remembered and honoured every single day in our home.
Fast forward to today. I wish I could say that this all makes sense now. That there is some greater purpose of forever walking this road of missing our baby boy. I’m not ready to say that. I’ll never be ready to say that. Today, none of what happened makes any sense to me. I will never accept that our baby had to die for a reason or that God has another plan for him. I don’t believe that. I certainly don’t embrace it. What I do know is that somewhere along my journey I made a promise to myself, my family and especially to Nicholas. I promised that the anguish that resides in my heart over losing him will not define me, but rather, the gratitude and distinct honour of being chosen to be his mommy will soar above all else.
The message I would like to convey tonight is that after surviving the unimaginable, there is hope. There are lighter and brighter days down the road. No matter how far along we are in this journey we must remember to be gentle on ourselves. Be patient. Be kind. Remember. Love and be loved. The sadness, the desperation, the anger… these feelings are all a part of the process. Let yourself go to those dark places, but please, remember the light too. As difficult as it is to accept that time marches on while our world has seemingly come to a crashing halt…. time is our ally. Time softens the pain. Time allows us to remember the good and not always the bad.
I know that I will always physically ache for Nicholas. For his body in my body, his soul in my soul. A mother’s love is endless.
No one else will ever know the strength of my love for you, buddy. After all, you're the only one who knows what my heart sounds like from the inside. ...
As much as I long to have Nicholas here, playing among his older brothers and protecting his baby sister, I feel like the“ache” has transformed. I have learned to allow joy and grief cohabitate in my heart. It never ceases to amaze me how such definitive opposites can co-mingle so gracefully.
A very old friend once said to me; “I am not a religious person, however I have always believed in Guardian Angels. How bittersweet that you got to meet yours”… what a truly beautiful perspective. It’s an image that speaks to my heart.
I don’t remember ever believing in Angels.. or signs.. or the belief that spirits live among us. I never had a reason to. Not until the unthinkable happened and I was desperate to hold on to something that reminded me of my baby. For months after our loss I was paralyzed. Paralyzed by grief. Paralyzed by fear. Paralyzed by guilt. It took everything in me to go down the road for a bag of milk or walk up the road to collect the mail. I found even the simplest of tasks gruelling and impossible to bare. I was angry. How could the world continue to spin when mine had seemingly come to a screeching halt? Nothing seemed fair and everything was a reminder of the horrific pain I was in. I found myself praying for a sign. A sign that Nicholas wasn’t too far away. Validation and reassurance that our baby boy was close by, watching over us..
In the early days I found “signs” and comfort in our living children. Our two older boys allowed me to hold on. Their presence and their unconditional love forced me to put one foot in front of the other.. get out of bed… stay focused on the everyday things that made our family go around. The best “signs” and the most spiritual feelings are when our boys ask about their brother… out of nowhere… just because…or when they come home from school with a family tree with Nicholas playing above the clouds…that takes my breath away. Or when our daughter (who was born after Nicholas) blows kisses to the sky and softly says “Nick”…
For an entire year I grasped at a hundred and one different little things that I could attribute to being a sign from our Angel. However, on Nicholas' First Angel Day there was a particular constant that has become Nicholas’ trademark and our saving comfort.
On the Friday night before Nicholas’ first Angel Day, my husband, the boys and I headed up North to our "Heaven on Earth". We unpacked, warmed up the cottage, had some dinner, got the kids off to bed and tried to relax in anticipation for what the next day was going to bring. I went to the washroom to wash my face for bed and there on the faucet was a ladybug. Beautiful and red and perfect. I called for my husband to have a look, as finding a ladybug, in the cottage, in the middle on November, in Canada, is extremely unusual. It has always been said that ladybugs are a form of good luck. I took this tiny sign as an omen.... we were going to have a peaceful, sunny day for Nicholas' first birthday.
The next day I packed a backpack of water bottles, snacks, mitts and hats to take to the race that our friends were participating in, in honour of Nicholas. Once we arrived, I pulled out my water bottle and found a perfect, sweet ladybug clinging to the side of it. He/she stayed either on the water bottle or on my finger for most of the afternoon. My immediate thought was - now EVERYONE is here, celebrating and remembering...
The next morning my husband and I walked down to Nicholas' stones (as we always do before we leave) and there, on his stones were two ladybugs sunning themselves in the cool morning glow.
I was shocked, moved and delighted all at the same time.
Coincidence? I would like to think that our boy was sending us some kind of message.
A message of love. A message of comfort. A 'sign' to let us know that he is always with us.
Ever since, of course, ladybugs have been a strong source of peace for us. There have been many occasions when one has gently landed on my shoulder at just the right time… or one has joined our children as they play in the yard. Each visit is precious and each sighting gives me a little more strength to carry on. In fact, just recently, as we celebrated Nicholas’ 3rd Angel Day, a ladybug magically appeared in our family room. He hung out for 5 days and provided some much needed solace for our family during an extremely emotional few days. After such experiences I find myself mesmerized by the power of love and gentle healing… It is my hope that you all find comfort and strength in the “signs” that surround you each and every day.
A couple of months into our loss I was desperate for some kind of connection… something beyond the comfort of signs. I longed to bond with others facing a similar loss. I ached to fill the loneliness I felt in my soul...to fill the void that felt so permanent. It was then when I found such a huge and fantastic support system on-line. I began blogging and became involved in one of the most powerful, tight knit communities… A community full of understanding, sympathy, empathy and compassion. At Nicholas’ Touch I document my most intimate, raw and candid thoughts, images and emotions. I can honestly say that writing, reaching out to others in similar situations has been amazingly cathartic for me. I am constantly amazed and humbled by the connections I have made with women who live sometimes an ocean away. I feel like I have given Nicholas somewhere tangible to be honoured. A special place for only him and I. A place where I can pour out my love for my son and maybe help others along the way. A place where our other son’s and daughter can visit one day and learn more about their brother. I feel honoured to have that opportunity. On my worst days, it gives me focus, strength and a spirit to keep on fighting.
Through Nicholas’ Touch as well as through other avenues I have been fortunate enough to meet and support some extraordinary parents who are suffering the loss of their babies. Each story, each experience has inspired me to do more…. to reach out… to offer soft understanding and support to those who have been forced to walk such a horrendous path.
I began creating tiny, simple Angel Wings and sending them out to women who touched my heart. A small bit of comfort from my Angel to their Angel s and it has blossomed into something beautiful and beyond any expectation. These Angel Wings have flown all over the world, to Australia, England, Spain, the States… I find tremendous comfort in knowing that Nicholas’ legacy lives on… that the power of his little life has had the power to touch so many others.
Each request for wings is heartbreaking. Each story unique. Each life lost, precious. I am often asked how I managed to find the light on this dark road… and I hesitate each and every time. I can’t say that my personal journey has always been graceful or kind. And I can most definitely say that it hasn’t been easy. Some days are just plain hard, cruel and messy, but others are full of hope, joy and an abundance of love. I suppose it will always be that way. One feeling trying to overpower the other. Two completely different sets of emotions delicately balancing in my heart.
Each year as we celebrate Nicholas’ Birth and Angel Day in November we try to make it special. This year was no different…we decided to organize a walk/run/stroll through Fairy Lake park and it was magical. The show of love and support from our family and friends was unbelievably humbling. We walked, we remembered, we laughed and we cried, but, most of all, we honoured, Nicholas.
Each year we also invite family and friends to support various initiatives in support of Neonatal Units close to our heart. This year we had a very special vision to celebrate and honour Nicholas. Our family, along with some very generous friends and family, have created some special Hospital Memory/Comfort Boxes for the labour and delivery ward at Southlake Regional Health Center. It is my understanding and my experience that not too much exists in terms of tangible care and support when you are forced to leave the hospital with empty arms.
It is our hope to provide items in these packages to newly bereaved parents that may help in memorializing their babies. When parents are forced to face the unimaginable; saying goodbye to their children, tangible things such as pictures and hand/footprints aren’t often thought about until it’s too late. Our goal is to offer comforting options... options that are not typically thought of in the fresh stages of grief.
I was told the other day that one of the first boxes had to be gifted…. What an intrinsically bittersweet moment that was. I only hope that the family knows how genuinely and incredibly sorry I am that they now find themselves on this journey… one where I have walked and wept. I desire that knowing others have walked through this anguish gives them hope… that they know that they are not alone in what often feels like a very lonely journey. I hope that they can feel my arms around them as I weep with them.
Maya Angelou once said:
"When great souls die, our reality, bound to them, takes leave of us. Our minds formed and informed by their radiance, fall away.....And when great souls die, after a period, peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly. Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. They existed.... We can be. Be and be better. For they existed”.
This quote provides such a strong sense of inspiration in me. Our lives are forever changed. We forever have grief in our hearts, loss in our souls. We forever struggle with the fact that what we have experienced is permanent. There is no changing it. There is no getting our loved one’s back.
I think that this has been one of the most intense emotions and difficult acceptances along our journey. The permanency of it all. Accepting the fact that our lives have been forever altered. That we have been forced down a path we never once thought we would have to walk. That we will never again see our precious babies again in this life. That we will carry our grief with us forever.
However, I must also remember that we have gone from deep, deep despair and sadness to feeling a sense of strength for enduring such heartache. We have gone from utter hopelessness to hopefulness in bringing a new baby home to our family. We have gone from missing our baby boy so intensely in the ravages of new grief to remembering him, talking about him and including him in our family every chance we get.
The past three years have been intense, unpredictable and full of unimaginable grief, but they have also been filled with hope, inspiration and an incredible amount of healing. Although it is painful to not have Nicholas here with us, his spirit and his legacy have infused our family with indomitable strength and immeasurable love over the past 3 years. We remember him often, we honour him daily, we love him unconditionally. He is forever a part of our hearts and our souls.
I believe that our loved ones are never too far away. They are in the whispers of the wind, the first spring bloom of the season… the fluffy, white snowflakes that melt on our nose…they are in the crimson sunsets and marshmallow clouds…they are flying on butterfly wings and they are in the ladybug that lands and decides to stay for a while. They are here with us tonight… holding our hearts tight and offering sweet comfort as we remember and pay tribute…. They are in the light of our candles as we place our flame on the tree… they are in the tears that fall and they are in the embraces we receive. Where ever you choose to “see” your Angel is the perfect spot… embrace those moments… there are always more to come.
Love and strength to you all. Peaceful healing…
Last evening I attended and spoke from my heart about the light and dark side of our loss. About the tragedy we have been forced to battle. About the healing along the way.
It was a bittersweet, warm and touching service. Full of hundreds of faces who bear the burden of grief. Full of love, understanding and unspoken wisdom. I was honoured to share our Nicholas. I was honoured to share the evening with my husband, our boys and Little Miss Sunshine. I was honoured to have my parents by my side. I was honoured to have such an amazing platform to reach out and hopefully help to comfort someone as they walk this road of loss.
Thank you, Buddy, for giving mommy the strength to speak at such an emotionally charged event. You are such an amazing little soul.... I couldn't do any of this without your presence.
After the ceremony, while we all watched in wonder and in anticipation as the grand tree was lit I was approached by many of the attendees. Many thanked me for my words, others just wanted to share an embrace. One man in particular offered a warm hug with only the words "we lost our son just 7 months ago... thank you for your courage"... sigh.... unbelievable.
The following is my speech, if your are interested:
Tree Lighting Service - 2011
Good Evening Everyone and welcome,
My name is Leanna and I am honoured to have been asked to speak with you tonight. My family and I attended the service last year and were touched and humbled by the experience. What a beautiful and meaningful way to remember our loved ones. At the end of the evening, when that tree is completely lit in honour and remembrance of our loved ones, it exudes peace and hope and reminds us of eternal love. I truly hope that each and every one of you feels some warmth and comfort tonight as we honour the one’s we have lost and remember their everlasting presence in our lives.
As the holidays approach, many times our grief is amplified. It thickens. It’s deep. It’s raw. The holidays, more than any other time of year, means family and friends together. They are synonymous and it is at this time of year when we are so acutely aware of the void in our lives. Whether our grief is fresh or we are remembering 25 years down the road the pain and the longing we feel, especially on special occasions, can sometimes be unbearable. We are desperate for just one more glimpse. We ache for one more touch. We imagine their faces at each family gathering. We feel them in our souls.
One of the things I have learned on our journey is that there is no right or wrong way to approach the holiday season. Some may wish to follow family traditions, while others may feel the desire to change. Be gentle on yourself. Spend time with the people that YOU enjoy. Include your loved one in conversations and celebrations and follow your heart. Do something for others. Donate in your loved one’s name. Take care of you. All of these things are sure to soothe the soul and comfort the pain, even if just for a moment.
Our journey through grief began just over 3 years ago when our youngest son, Nicholas passed away.
"I would rather have had one breath of his hair..
one kiss of his mouth..
one touch of his hand..
than an eternity without it.."
This has become one my all time favourite quotes. It gets me through the tough times. It helps me to stay focused on the blessings that life has given me. This quote is gently engraved into Nicholas‘ Memorial stone. It embodies our love and appreciation that his life and death have imparted on our lives.
This is our story…..
Three years ago my husband and I received the most devastating, unbearable and confusing news any parent can hear. Our third son, the baby we had planned. The baby we grew with, the baby we loved… was in a desperately grave condition. We were forced to face any parents worst torture ~ the unfathomable reality that our beloved child was unable to survive outside of the womb. The fact that our son’s ultimate fate was death – even before he drew his first breath.
My pregnancy was eventful. At almost 20 weeks I was rushed to the hospital and had emergency surgery to remove an 8 cm cyst that had twisted my ovary. Life-saving surgery for both myself and baby. Several doctor’s, nurses and technicians assured us that our baby boy was just fine. Safe, healthy and totally oblivious to the pain mommy was experiencing. I remember constantly thanking God for that. I gladly took every ounce of pain just knowing that our baby was thriving. As much as his strong kicks hurt my incisions, the tears I shed were those of gratitude. I remember every kick …. Every hiccup and I rejoiced in the fact that we had survived such a life threatening event.
I was released from the hospital and went home to rest. Quite a few weeks later, during a routine scan, my OB requested I be seen by a high risk doctor to rule out any possible problems with our baby’s ventricles in the brain. My OB was fairly certain everything was fine, but with everything we went through to get there, he wanted to be sure. I wasn’t worried. I hardly thought about it. Just an over cautious doctor, which I was grateful for.
In just a few short weeks our lives changed from anxiously expecting another beautiful, healthy son very shortly to living a nightmare in which we would never wake from.
The high risk doctor confirmed that our baby’s ventricles were indeed enlarged. Grossly enlarged…. She immediately sent us to Mt. Sinai hospital where we endured many questions, tests and long, agonizing waits.
I don’t remember much about that day, especially the latter half. I remember being escorted into an office. There were pictures of African animals everywhere…. A trip the owner of the office had taken, no doubt. Pictures of smiling children, happy families… seemingly taunting us. I remember my eyes being glazed over like they have never been before. I remember holding my husband’s hand so tightly.. for fear I would melt to the floor. We sat and we listened through the sobs to the doctors talking about our baby. Our perfect little boy. The baby who we were told was perfectly fine just a week ago. We listened as they told us that his sweet little brain had ceased to develop or it had recessed after my attack, my surgery. All that continued to run through my head was that I deprived my own child the very oxygen and blood necessary to grow…. I failed him. I failed my husband, I failed his brothers who were so desperately awaiting his arrival. I failed his grandparents…his Aunts, his Uncles….. I failed myself.
A week later, at 35 weeks pregnant, I was induced and our beautiful baby boy was born….. sound asleep. I will always remember that overwhelming feeling, just moments after I felt him leave my body, of hoping beyond hope for a cry… that somehow the doctor’s were wrong… that he fought through… I prayed for some kind of miracle as the primal screams of desperation escaped me.
We were able to spend so much precious, memorable time with our boy. We named him Nicholas Warren and he was perfect. He’s still as perfect as ever. He has such a strong presence in our lives. Nicholas is loved, remembered and honoured every single day in our home.
Fast forward to today. I wish I could say that this all makes sense now. That there is some greater purpose of forever walking this road of missing our baby boy. I’m not ready to say that. I’ll never be ready to say that. Today, none of what happened makes any sense to me. I will never accept that our baby had to die for a reason or that God has another plan for him. I don’t believe that. I certainly don’t embrace it. What I do know is that somewhere along my journey I made a promise to myself, my family and especially to Nicholas. I promised that the anguish that resides in my heart over losing him will not define me, but rather, the gratitude and distinct honour of being chosen to be his mommy will soar above all else.
The message I would like to convey tonight is that after surviving the unimaginable, there is hope. There are lighter and brighter days down the road. No matter how far along we are in this journey we must remember to be gentle on ourselves. Be patient. Be kind. Remember. Love and be loved. The sadness, the desperation, the anger… these feelings are all a part of the process. Let yourself go to those dark places, but please, remember the light too. As difficult as it is to accept that time marches on while our world has seemingly come to a crashing halt…. time is our ally. Time softens the pain. Time allows us to remember the good and not always the bad.
I know that I will always physically ache for Nicholas. For his body in my body, his soul in my soul. A mother’s love is endless.
No one else will ever know the strength of my love for you, buddy. After all, you're the only one who knows what my heart sounds like from the inside. ...
As much as I long to have Nicholas here, playing among his older brothers and protecting his baby sister, I feel like the“ache” has transformed. I have learned to allow joy and grief cohabitate in my heart. It never ceases to amaze me how such definitive opposites can co-mingle so gracefully.
A very old friend once said to me; “I am not a religious person, however I have always believed in Guardian Angels. How bittersweet that you got to meet yours”… what a truly beautiful perspective. It’s an image that speaks to my heart.
I don’t remember ever believing in Angels.. or signs.. or the belief that spirits live among us. I never had a reason to. Not until the unthinkable happened and I was desperate to hold on to something that reminded me of my baby. For months after our loss I was paralyzed. Paralyzed by grief. Paralyzed by fear. Paralyzed by guilt. It took everything in me to go down the road for a bag of milk or walk up the road to collect the mail. I found even the simplest of tasks gruelling and impossible to bare. I was angry. How could the world continue to spin when mine had seemingly come to a screeching halt? Nothing seemed fair and everything was a reminder of the horrific pain I was in. I found myself praying for a sign. A sign that Nicholas wasn’t too far away. Validation and reassurance that our baby boy was close by, watching over us..
In the early days I found “signs” and comfort in our living children. Our two older boys allowed me to hold on. Their presence and their unconditional love forced me to put one foot in front of the other.. get out of bed… stay focused on the everyday things that made our family go around. The best “signs” and the most spiritual feelings are when our boys ask about their brother… out of nowhere… just because…or when they come home from school with a family tree with Nicholas playing above the clouds…that takes my breath away. Or when our daughter (who was born after Nicholas) blows kisses to the sky and softly says “Nick”…
For an entire year I grasped at a hundred and one different little things that I could attribute to being a sign from our Angel. However, on Nicholas' First Angel Day there was a particular constant that has become Nicholas’ trademark and our saving comfort.
On the Friday night before Nicholas’ first Angel Day, my husband, the boys and I headed up North to our "Heaven on Earth". We unpacked, warmed up the cottage, had some dinner, got the kids off to bed and tried to relax in anticipation for what the next day was going to bring. I went to the washroom to wash my face for bed and there on the faucet was a ladybug. Beautiful and red and perfect. I called for my husband to have a look, as finding a ladybug, in the cottage, in the middle on November, in Canada, is extremely unusual. It has always been said that ladybugs are a form of good luck. I took this tiny sign as an omen.... we were going to have a peaceful, sunny day for Nicholas' first birthday.
The next day I packed a backpack of water bottles, snacks, mitts and hats to take to the race that our friends were participating in, in honour of Nicholas. Once we arrived, I pulled out my water bottle and found a perfect, sweet ladybug clinging to the side of it. He/she stayed either on the water bottle or on my finger for most of the afternoon. My immediate thought was - now EVERYONE is here, celebrating and remembering...
The next morning my husband and I walked down to Nicholas' stones (as we always do before we leave) and there, on his stones were two ladybugs sunning themselves in the cool morning glow.
I was shocked, moved and delighted all at the same time.
Coincidence? I would like to think that our boy was sending us some kind of message.
A message of love. A message of comfort. A 'sign' to let us know that he is always with us.
Ever since, of course, ladybugs have been a strong source of peace for us. There have been many occasions when one has gently landed on my shoulder at just the right time… or one has joined our children as they play in the yard. Each visit is precious and each sighting gives me a little more strength to carry on. In fact, just recently, as we celebrated Nicholas’ 3rd Angel Day, a ladybug magically appeared in our family room. He hung out for 5 days and provided some much needed solace for our family during an extremely emotional few days. After such experiences I find myself mesmerized by the power of love and gentle healing… It is my hope that you all find comfort and strength in the “signs” that surround you each and every day.
A couple of months into our loss I was desperate for some kind of connection… something beyond the comfort of signs. I longed to bond with others facing a similar loss. I ached to fill the loneliness I felt in my soul...to fill the void that felt so permanent. It was then when I found such a huge and fantastic support system on-line. I began blogging and became involved in one of the most powerful, tight knit communities… A community full of understanding, sympathy, empathy and compassion. At Nicholas’ Touch I document my most intimate, raw and candid thoughts, images and emotions. I can honestly say that writing, reaching out to others in similar situations has been amazingly cathartic for me. I am constantly amazed and humbled by the connections I have made with women who live sometimes an ocean away. I feel like I have given Nicholas somewhere tangible to be honoured. A special place for only him and I. A place where I can pour out my love for my son and maybe help others along the way. A place where our other son’s and daughter can visit one day and learn more about their brother. I feel honoured to have that opportunity. On my worst days, it gives me focus, strength and a spirit to keep on fighting.
Through Nicholas’ Touch as well as through other avenues I have been fortunate enough to meet and support some extraordinary parents who are suffering the loss of their babies. Each story, each experience has inspired me to do more…. to reach out… to offer soft understanding and support to those who have been forced to walk such a horrendous path.
I began creating tiny, simple Angel Wings and sending them out to women who touched my heart. A small bit of comfort from my Angel to their Angel s and it has blossomed into something beautiful and beyond any expectation. These Angel Wings have flown all over the world, to Australia, England, Spain, the States… I find tremendous comfort in knowing that Nicholas’ legacy lives on… that the power of his little life has had the power to touch so many others.
Each request for wings is heartbreaking. Each story unique. Each life lost, precious. I am often asked how I managed to find the light on this dark road… and I hesitate each and every time. I can’t say that my personal journey has always been graceful or kind. And I can most definitely say that it hasn’t been easy. Some days are just plain hard, cruel and messy, but others are full of hope, joy and an abundance of love. I suppose it will always be that way. One feeling trying to overpower the other. Two completely different sets of emotions delicately balancing in my heart.
Each year as we celebrate Nicholas’ Birth and Angel Day in November we try to make it special. This year was no different…we decided to organize a walk/run/stroll through Fairy Lake park and it was magical. The show of love and support from our family and friends was unbelievably humbling. We walked, we remembered, we laughed and we cried, but, most of all, we honoured, Nicholas.
Each year we also invite family and friends to support various initiatives in support of Neonatal Units close to our heart. This year we had a very special vision to celebrate and honour Nicholas. Our family, along with some very generous friends and family, have created some special Hospital Memory/Comfort Boxes for the labour and delivery ward at Southlake Regional Health Center. It is my understanding and my experience that not too much exists in terms of tangible care and support when you are forced to leave the hospital with empty arms.
It is our hope to provide items in these packages to newly bereaved parents that may help in memorializing their babies. When parents are forced to face the unimaginable; saying goodbye to their children, tangible things such as pictures and hand/footprints aren’t often thought about until it’s too late. Our goal is to offer comforting options... options that are not typically thought of in the fresh stages of grief.
I was told the other day that one of the first boxes had to be gifted…. What an intrinsically bittersweet moment that was. I only hope that the family knows how genuinely and incredibly sorry I am that they now find themselves on this journey… one where I have walked and wept. I desire that knowing others have walked through this anguish gives them hope… that they know that they are not alone in what often feels like a very lonely journey. I hope that they can feel my arms around them as I weep with them.
Maya Angelou once said:
"When great souls die, our reality, bound to them, takes leave of us. Our minds formed and informed by their radiance, fall away.....And when great souls die, after a period, peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly. Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. They existed.... We can be. Be and be better. For they existed”.
This quote provides such a strong sense of inspiration in me. Our lives are forever changed. We forever have grief in our hearts, loss in our souls. We forever struggle with the fact that what we have experienced is permanent. There is no changing it. There is no getting our loved one’s back.
I think that this has been one of the most intense emotions and difficult acceptances along our journey. The permanency of it all. Accepting the fact that our lives have been forever altered. That we have been forced down a path we never once thought we would have to walk. That we will never again see our precious babies again in this life. That we will carry our grief with us forever.
However, I must also remember that we have gone from deep, deep despair and sadness to feeling a sense of strength for enduring such heartache. We have gone from utter hopelessness to hopefulness in bringing a new baby home to our family. We have gone from missing our baby boy so intensely in the ravages of new grief to remembering him, talking about him and including him in our family every chance we get.
The past three years have been intense, unpredictable and full of unimaginable grief, but they have also been filled with hope, inspiration and an incredible amount of healing. Although it is painful to not have Nicholas here with us, his spirit and his legacy have infused our family with indomitable strength and immeasurable love over the past 3 years. We remember him often, we honour him daily, we love him unconditionally. He is forever a part of our hearts and our souls.
I believe that our loved ones are never too far away. They are in the whispers of the wind, the first spring bloom of the season… the fluffy, white snowflakes that melt on our nose…they are in the crimson sunsets and marshmallow clouds…they are flying on butterfly wings and they are in the ladybug that lands and decides to stay for a while. They are here with us tonight… holding our hearts tight and offering sweet comfort as we remember and pay tribute…. They are in the light of our candles as we place our flame on the tree… they are in the tears that fall and they are in the embraces we receive. Where ever you choose to “see” your Angel is the perfect spot… embrace those moments… there are always more to come.
Love and strength to you all. Peaceful healing…
Monday, November 28, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Tough November
This week has been tough. No, let's be honest, this entire month has been full of ups and downs. I suppose November will always be a month of emotional craziness... Nicholas' Angel Day was so positive.. so full of love and remembrance. We honoured our little guy the best way we could from afar and this year, instead of sadness and longing taking over, my heart swelled with pride and peace as we gathered with friends and family to remember our son. He was here. He matters. He is loved. This is all I have wanted.... for Nicholas and his life to be acknowledged. For his short yet impactful life to be celebrated and respected.
And then it's done. The planning... the scheduling... the preparing and creating. It's done and I am left with the negative thoughts.. the memories I am terrified of remembering, but also so scared of forgetting.
This time last year we learned we were expecting again. A very big surprise for us. Unexpected, but accepted all the same. A new little blessing to join our family. A new love. A new miracle. Until we miscarried.... and our world was rocked, once again. Catapulted back to when we learned of Nicholas' devastating fate... forced to face the fear and the pain all over again.
I feel as though my hormones and my emotions are at war. I feel like my body and my soul are running in opposite directions and I am struggling to keep them together.
I know... this too shall pass and I have so many beautifully amazing days to look forward to. Our oldest son turns 8 in a couple of weeks and we are so incredibly proud of the strong, sensible (most of the time) young boy he has become. Little Miss Madison's 2nd Birthday is just around the corner and I have started to plan some surprises for her. We are expecting a new little boy to our family just before Christmas. My brother and SIL will welcome their son very shortly and I am both overjoyed and a little bit frightened.... We'll fit Christmas in somewhere along the way.... I am excited and anxious to watch the little one's explore. I have been asked to speak at a Tree Lighting Memorial Service in early December and have feverishly been working on a 20 minute speech... which makes my heart beat faster at the thought.
~ sigh ~
We'll get there... we always do... by the grace of love, healing and the wonderful support of friends and family... we remember... we honour... we love... and we live.
Lea
And then it's done. The planning... the scheduling... the preparing and creating. It's done and I am left with the negative thoughts.. the memories I am terrified of remembering, but also so scared of forgetting.
This time last year we learned we were expecting again. A very big surprise for us. Unexpected, but accepted all the same. A new little blessing to join our family. A new love. A new miracle. Until we miscarried.... and our world was rocked, once again. Catapulted back to when we learned of Nicholas' devastating fate... forced to face the fear and the pain all over again.
I feel as though my hormones and my emotions are at war. I feel like my body and my soul are running in opposite directions and I am struggling to keep them together.
I know... this too shall pass and I have so many beautifully amazing days to look forward to. Our oldest son turns 8 in a couple of weeks and we are so incredibly proud of the strong, sensible (most of the time) young boy he has become. Little Miss Madison's 2nd Birthday is just around the corner and I have started to plan some surprises for her. We are expecting a new little boy to our family just before Christmas. My brother and SIL will welcome their son very shortly and I am both overjoyed and a little bit frightened.... We'll fit Christmas in somewhere along the way.... I am excited and anxious to watch the little one's explore. I have been asked to speak at a Tree Lighting Memorial Service in early December and have feverishly been working on a 20 minute speech... which makes my heart beat faster at the thought.
~ sigh ~
We'll get there... we always do... by the grace of love, healing and the wonderful support of friends and family... we remember... we honour... we love... and we live.
Lea
Monday, November 14, 2011
Nicholas' 3rd Angel Day ~ Race and Remembrance ~ A story in photos
Nicholas' 3rd Angel Day was emotional, fabulous, overwhelming, magical, humbling and joyous.... A beautiful mess of contradictions, much like our lives now.... a delicate balance of happy and sad... of grateful and hurt...of peace and disdain.
We were blessed. Blessed with fantastic, sunshiney weather.. blessed with an abundance of friends and family showing love and support in the name of our son. Blessed with remembrance and comfort as we celebrated Nicholas and what his life means to us.
We were also blessed to have a great friend take some perfect photos of our day.
Below tells our story:
Lovely, spirited, Evan delivering bubbles to the kids
Daddy to Evan, Kyle, Nicholas and Miss Madison
Our beautiful, sensitive soul... Kyle
Nana, Daddy and Papa
Daddy and Papa
Uncle D, Papa and Auntie Jess
Mommy "trying" to express thanks
The kid participants
Mommy, Kyle and Madison
Auntie Jen
The balloon release ~ I read "On The Night You Were Born" before the release
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We were blessed. Blessed with fantastic, sunshiney weather.. blessed with an abundance of friends and family showing love and support in the name of our son. Blessed with remembrance and comfort as we celebrated Nicholas and what his life means to us.
We were also blessed to have a great friend take some perfect photos of our day.
Below tells our story:
Lovely, spirited, Evan delivering bubbles to the kids
Daddy to Evan, Kyle, Nicholas and Miss Madison
Our beautiful, sensitive soul... Kyle
Nana, Daddy and Papa
Daddy and Papa
Uncle D, Papa and Auntie Jess
Mommy "trying" to express thanks
The kid participants
Mommy, Kyle and Madison
Auntie Jen
The balloon release ~ I read "On The Night You Were Born" before the release
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Thursday, November 10, 2011
Personal Letter - Included in Comfort Boxes
The following is the letter that I included in the Comfort Boxes
"I would rather have had one breath of his hair..
one kiss of his mouth..
one touch of his hand..
than an eternity without it.."
Dear Friend,
On November 7, 2008, our youngest son, Nicholas, was born peacefully sound asleep at 35 weeks gestation. In that moment our lives changed dramatically. We were blindsided. Our world stopped and we found ourselves walking a path saturated with immeasurable grief, desolation and uncontrollable sadness… a journey we never thought we would have to face.
The past three years have been intense, unpredictable and full of unimaginable grief, but they have also been filled with hope, inspiration and an incredible amount of healing. Although it is painful to not have Nicholas here with us, his spirit and his legacy have infused our family with indomitable strength and infinite love over the past 3 years. We remember him often, we honour him daily, we love him unconditionally. He is forever a part of our hearts and our souls.
It is because Nicholas has touched our lives so deeply that we were compelled to put something together to help other parents who are forced to face such a horrific loss. It is our hope that you may find comfort, love, understanding and eventual peace and healing within these special boxes. When we are forced to face the unimaginable ~ the loss of our babies ~ often tangible memories such as pictures, hand/footprints, blankets to take home… aren’t considered until it is too late. We hope that our packages can offer comforting options to help you memorialize your baby.
My friend, my heart breaks that you find yourself on this journey, one where I have walked and wept. Please be gentle on yourself. Accept support. Talk. Remember. Feel. Love.
I write in hope that knowing others have walked through this anguish gives you hope. Please know that you are not alone in what often feels like a very lonely journey. I hope that you can feel my arms around you as I weep with you.
Sending much love and strength to you and your family & remembering your son/daughter with you,
Leanna Reeves ~ Mommy to Nicholas
"I would rather have had one breath of his hair..
one kiss of his mouth..
one touch of his hand..
than an eternity without it.."
Dear Friend,
On November 7, 2008, our youngest son, Nicholas, was born peacefully sound asleep at 35 weeks gestation. In that moment our lives changed dramatically. We were blindsided. Our world stopped and we found ourselves walking a path saturated with immeasurable grief, desolation and uncontrollable sadness… a journey we never thought we would have to face.
The past three years have been intense, unpredictable and full of unimaginable grief, but they have also been filled with hope, inspiration and an incredible amount of healing. Although it is painful to not have Nicholas here with us, his spirit and his legacy have infused our family with indomitable strength and infinite love over the past 3 years. We remember him often, we honour him daily, we love him unconditionally. He is forever a part of our hearts and our souls.
It is because Nicholas has touched our lives so deeply that we were compelled to put something together to help other parents who are forced to face such a horrific loss. It is our hope that you may find comfort, love, understanding and eventual peace and healing within these special boxes. When we are forced to face the unimaginable ~ the loss of our babies ~ often tangible memories such as pictures, hand/footprints, blankets to take home… aren’t considered until it is too late. We hope that our packages can offer comforting options to help you memorialize your baby.
My friend, my heart breaks that you find yourself on this journey, one where I have walked and wept. Please be gentle on yourself. Accept support. Talk. Remember. Feel. Love.
I write in hope that knowing others have walked through this anguish gives you hope. Please know that you are not alone in what often feels like a very lonely journey. I hope that you can feel my arms around you as I weep with you.
Sending much love and strength to you and your family & remembering your son/daughter with you,
Leanna Reeves ~ Mommy to Nicholas
Monday, November 7, 2011
Dear Nicholas - Happy 3!
Hey Buddy ~ Happy Birthday!!
I have so much to say.. so much to update.
Your walk on Saturday was magical. Mommy and Daddy were blown away by the turn out of family and friends to share in such a special day and to remember and honour you. Our hearts could not have been any fuller as people continued to mingle down the hill to the gazebo... The sea of everyone dressed in red will be etched in my mind forever... I look forward to sharing pictures.. just have to sift through them..
I visited the hospital today and delivered some of the Comfort Boxes that we have been working so hard on. What a memorable visit... More to come on that too.
Today, my boy... my heart swells with love and it aches with sadness. Such as our life these days... a pure mixture of joy and grief. Your tiny, beautiful life has touched so many... makes mommy so proud of you.
I leave you with this today, my love:
Dear Nicholas,
Three years ago you flew up high
To play amongst the clouds.
We can’t believe it’s been that long,
Your life embraces us all.
Nicholas, my sweet boy,
We miss you more and more.
We dream of you, we speak your name,
As you continue to soar.
November 7th is here again
My heart feels so much pain.
You had the power to touch us all,
Our lives are not the same.
We’ll sing a song, we’ll eat some cake,
We’ll light your candle again.
We’ll honour you, we’ll remember you,
In sunshine and in rain.
For today we sing up to the sky,
And hope that you join in.
Each note, each breath is just for you,
Each smile, each tear is too…
You burn within our hearts, my son,
You have helped us do so much.
Happy Birthday…We Love You,
Thank you for your touch.
Love,
Mommy xx
November 7, 2008
I have so much to say.. so much to update.
Your walk on Saturday was magical. Mommy and Daddy were blown away by the turn out of family and friends to share in such a special day and to remember and honour you. Our hearts could not have been any fuller as people continued to mingle down the hill to the gazebo... The sea of everyone dressed in red will be etched in my mind forever... I look forward to sharing pictures.. just have to sift through them..
I visited the hospital today and delivered some of the Comfort Boxes that we have been working so hard on. What a memorable visit... More to come on that too.
Today, my boy... my heart swells with love and it aches with sadness. Such as our life these days... a pure mixture of joy and grief. Your tiny, beautiful life has touched so many... makes mommy so proud of you.
I leave you with this today, my love:
Dear Nicholas,
Three years ago you flew up high
To play amongst the clouds.
We can’t believe it’s been that long,
Your life embraces us all.
Nicholas, my sweet boy,
We miss you more and more.
We dream of you, we speak your name,
As you continue to soar.
November 7th is here again
My heart feels so much pain.
You had the power to touch us all,
Our lives are not the same.
We’ll sing a song, we’ll eat some cake,
We’ll light your candle again.
We’ll honour you, we’ll remember you,
In sunshine and in rain.
For today we sing up to the sky,
And hope that you join in.
Each note, each breath is just for you,
Each smile, each tear is too…
You burn within our hearts, my son,
You have helped us do so much.
Happy Birthday…We Love You,
Thank you for your touch.
Love,
Mommy xx
November 7, 2008
Monday, October 31, 2011
Comfort Boxes
Our evening of putting together the Comfort Boxes for the hospital was truly magical. A special evening spent with some very special women. Thank you to Franchesca for the postcards shown on top of the boxes... beautiful. Here are how they turned out....
The tag placed just inside the box reads : Lovingly donated in memory of Nicholas Warren Reeves
Your Nana and I delivered them to the hospital today ~ on your birthday. What a truly moving and memorable visit. We were able to meet some very important and special people and share with them our initiative for the Comfort Boxes. I am wholeheartedly overwhelmed with the response of love and support. Most importantly, I am filled with bittersweet, beautiful memories of you, sweet boy ~ your tiny, gorgeous life has allowed us to touch so many more. Your memory soars. Your legacy flies....
The tag placed just inside the box reads : Lovingly donated in memory of Nicholas Warren Reeves
Your Nana and I delivered them to the hospital today ~ on your birthday. What a truly moving and memorable visit. We were able to meet some very important and special people and share with them our initiative for the Comfort Boxes. I am wholeheartedly overwhelmed with the response of love and support. Most importantly, I am filled with bittersweet, beautiful memories of you, sweet boy ~ your tiny, gorgeous life has allowed us to touch so many more. Your memory soars. Your legacy flies....
Halloween Day - 3 Years Ago
As much as I enjoy watching our children have so much fun on Halloween....... the day will never be the same. I find it difficult to find the joy....
Halloween Day ~ Three Years Ago
Halloween Day ~ Three Years Ago
Thursday, October 27, 2011
CHANGE ~ Nicholas' Race and Remembrance
Dear Friends and Family,
Sadly, we have been informed that the Dirty Duathalon that we were planning on participating in to commemorate Nicholas' 3rd Angel Day, has been rescheduled from November 5, 2011 to November 12, 2011. After considerable consideration "Team Nicholas" has decided that we are unable to attend the event due to the change of date. Many schedules and functions were changed in order for all to participate on November 5th and we are unable to change our plans at such short notice.
In the beginning I was devastated with this news. The Duathalon has always been such a strong, positive focus and a memorable day for our family. I couldn't imagine not having it to look forward to this year. However, after some soul searching and conversations with some awesome, supportive friends and family we have decided that this change in plans is a blessing in disguise.
We are now planning our own "Team Nicholas" Run/Walk/Stroll which will commence at the Gazebo at Fairy Lake in Newmarket. We will make our way through the pretty trails and end up back at the Gazebo where we will release several balloons to the sky...
We invite everyone (big and small - kids are more than welcome in strollers, wagons, scooters, etc.) to join us for a beautiful, peaceful and meaningful journey through the trails of Fairy Lake as we honour and remember our son, brother, grandson, nephew, cousin and friend, Nicholas Warren Reeves.
After our adventure we will gather at our home ~ 455 Heddle Crescent, Newmarket ~ for lunch and birthday treats.
I truly believe that this change happened for a reason. We are looking forward to a blessed day with many family and friends.
We hope to see you there!
Where - Meet at Gazebo, Fairy Lake, Newmarket, Ontario
When - Saturday, November 5, 2011
Time - 11 am
RSVP - Leanna ~ lcreeves3@hotmail.com
Lunch and refreshments to follow at the Reeves' House ~ 455 Heddle Crescent, Newmarket
Much Love,
Leanna, Jim, Evan, Kyle, Madison ... Remembering Nicholas
Sadly, we have been informed that the Dirty Duathalon that we were planning on participating in to commemorate Nicholas' 3rd Angel Day, has been rescheduled from November 5, 2011 to November 12, 2011. After considerable consideration "Team Nicholas" has decided that we are unable to attend the event due to the change of date. Many schedules and functions were changed in order for all to participate on November 5th and we are unable to change our plans at such short notice.
In the beginning I was devastated with this news. The Duathalon has always been such a strong, positive focus and a memorable day for our family. I couldn't imagine not having it to look forward to this year. However, after some soul searching and conversations with some awesome, supportive friends and family we have decided that this change in plans is a blessing in disguise.
We are now planning our own "Team Nicholas" Run/Walk/Stroll which will commence at the Gazebo at Fairy Lake in Newmarket. We will make our way through the pretty trails and end up back at the Gazebo where we will release several balloons to the sky...
We invite everyone (big and small - kids are more than welcome in strollers, wagons, scooters, etc.) to join us for a beautiful, peaceful and meaningful journey through the trails of Fairy Lake as we honour and remember our son, brother, grandson, nephew, cousin and friend, Nicholas Warren Reeves.
After our adventure we will gather at our home ~ 455 Heddle Crescent, Newmarket ~ for lunch and birthday treats.
I truly believe that this change happened for a reason. We are looking forward to a blessed day with many family and friends.
We hope to see you there!
Where - Meet at Gazebo, Fairy Lake, Newmarket, Ontario
When - Saturday, November 5, 2011
Time - 11 am
RSVP - Leanna ~ lcreeves3@hotmail.com
Lunch and refreshments to follow at the Reeves' House ~ 455 Heddle Crescent, Newmarket
Much Love,
Leanna, Jim, Evan, Kyle, Madison ... Remembering Nicholas
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
The Beginning of the End - October 28, 2008
The next couple of weeks will be tough to get through gracefully. Please bare with me. I am so incredibly grateful for all of the love and support.
I just realized how fitting/ironic it is that we will be getting together on Friday (October 28) to create our beautiful Comfort Boxes.
~ sigh ~
The Beginning of the End - October 28, 2008
I just realized how fitting/ironic it is that we will be getting together on Friday (October 28) to create our beautiful Comfort Boxes.
~ sigh ~
The Beginning of the End - October 28, 2008
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Hope
There has been a lot of talk about 'hope' lately. About finding gentler days. About holding on (sometimes barely) until the light breaks through. About finding that inner peace... a new found softness to your days.
This little beauty is my hope.
Love you, baby girl. Thank you for showing me the light. Everyday.
This little beauty is my hope.
Love you, baby girl. Thank you for showing me the light. Everyday.
Monday, October 17, 2011
November....
November is approaching and I can feel it in my bones. It's so true when they say that grief is physical, isn't it? I can literally feel the energy being sucked from my body. The aches.. the pains... the constant lump in my throat and tears just below the surface. I am, once again, trying desperately to draw a full, cleansing breath... to no avail and my tummy is in knots. I am anxious and irritable and my arms are begging for my baby boy.
Had a good, strong, from the soul kind of cry the other night. One of those cries that purges the soul. One of those "why us" cries... the sorry for yourself and all you've lost cries. I grasped Nicholas' blanket to me that night. I smelled him. I yearned to feel him close. I imagined his adorable, perfect, little face and wished beyond a wish to kiss it all over once again.
I knew it was coming. You just never know when it will hit you... like a ton of bricks.
We have been working really hard on the Comfort/Memory Boxes. I feel really good about them.. about what they may be able to offer newly grieving parents. But, as much as it gives me a positive focus for Nicholas' impending Angel Day I must admit that I also feel drained. I want to pour as much love, hope, understanding and comfort I can into every package. I want others to know that they are not alone. I want others to realize that there are ways to memorialize their babies before it's too late. I want others to realize that there is hope along this journey. It may be faint at times. It may flicker from time to time, but there is always hope and there is always our babies to help guide us.
Hmmm... no wonder my eyes sting from tears and tiredness. All completely, 100% worth it though. Every effort... every thought... every memory... every ounce of love ... it's all worth it, buddy.
xo
Had a good, strong, from the soul kind of cry the other night. One of those cries that purges the soul. One of those "why us" cries... the sorry for yourself and all you've lost cries. I grasped Nicholas' blanket to me that night. I smelled him. I yearned to feel him close. I imagined his adorable, perfect, little face and wished beyond a wish to kiss it all over once again.
I knew it was coming. You just never know when it will hit you... like a ton of bricks.
We have been working really hard on the Comfort/Memory Boxes. I feel really good about them.. about what they may be able to offer newly grieving parents. But, as much as it gives me a positive focus for Nicholas' impending Angel Day I must admit that I also feel drained. I want to pour as much love, hope, understanding and comfort I can into every package. I want others to know that they are not alone. I want others to realize that there are ways to memorialize their babies before it's too late. I want others to realize that there is hope along this journey. It may be faint at times. It may flicker from time to time, but there is always hope and there is always our babies to help guide us.
Hmmm... no wonder my eyes sting from tears and tiredness. All completely, 100% worth it though. Every effort... every thought... every memory... every ounce of love ... it's all worth it, buddy.
xo
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
The Heartbreak of Infant Loss
One of our fellow baby loss Mama's shared this article on facebook. All I can say is, "WOW".... I feel the following words could have been extracted from my own heart. Amazing and important to share.
The Heartbreak of Infant Loss
The Heartbreak of Infant Loss
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Beautiful Hope
Thank you Franchesca for continuing to remind us that there truly is hope in our daily lives.
I found myself having a nostalgic weekend. The weather was absolutely beautiful, summer like, a more than perfect weekend to spend with family at our cottage. The sun was shining, the lake was sparkling, the leaves were falling, the Autumn brush was burning filling the air with the sweet smell of smoky beauty. The colours of the trees as we gazed across the lake were gorgeous and the cool, crisp evenings were awesome, snuggle-up times.
The kids had a blast raking up the leaves and jumping in them only to rake them up again, again and again...
And we had some very special visits... ladybugs seemed to fill the air. Some would light on our hands for a while. One hung out on my back. We even had one fly into our car on the way up on Saturday. He stayed with us the entire ride..... "Mommy, now we're all together again! Nicholas needs you"... Sigh. As much as I cherish those 'visits' sometimes it doesn't seem to get much easier.
Love to you all...
I found myself having a nostalgic weekend. The weather was absolutely beautiful, summer like, a more than perfect weekend to spend with family at our cottage. The sun was shining, the lake was sparkling, the leaves were falling, the Autumn brush was burning filling the air with the sweet smell of smoky beauty. The colours of the trees as we gazed across the lake were gorgeous and the cool, crisp evenings were awesome, snuggle-up times.
The kids had a blast raking up the leaves and jumping in them only to rake them up again, again and again...
And we had some very special visits... ladybugs seemed to fill the air. Some would light on our hands for a while. One hung out on my back. We even had one fly into our car on the way up on Saturday. He stayed with us the entire ride..... "Mommy, now we're all together again! Nicholas needs you"... Sigh. As much as I cherish those 'visits' sometimes it doesn't seem to get much easier.
Love to you all...
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Some Updates.... In photos
Haven't shared photos for a while... thought it was about time for a little update from our family to yours.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Nicholas' 3rd Angel Day ~ Race and Remembrance
September 26, 2011
Dear Family and Friends,
It’s hard to believe that we are approaching Nicholas’ 3rd Angel Day. The past three years have been intense, unpredictable and full of unimaginable grief, but they have also been filled with hope, inspiration and an incredible amount of healing. Although it is painful to not have Nicholas here with us, his spirit and his legacy have infused our family with indomitable strength and immeasurable love over the past 3 years. We remember him often, we honour him daily, we love him unconditionally. He is forever a part of our hearts and our souls.
Many of you will remember that for the past two years, on or around November 7th, our dear friends, Marcus and Meagan Olson participate in a duathalon in honour of our baby boy. The experiences we have witnessed on these days have been truly beautiful and perfect. We are so thankful to have such a wonderful and positive focus on a day that is extremely emotional for our family. This year, on November 5, 2011, we will again be participating in the same duathalon and dedicating the day to Nicholas. We are very blessed to have such a wonderful support system.
This year we would like to invite anyone who is interested in being a part of “Team Nicholas” to participate. Marcus will be racing in the long (3.8K Run – 10K Bike – 3.8K Run) course. There is also a short (short (1.9k Run-5k Bike-1.9k Run) course for those who are interested.
The duathalon will be held on Saturday, November 5, 2011 at Sir Sanford Fleming College in Peterborough, Ontario. The course is completely off road and is a mix of single track and open trails. If you are interested in participating please contact myself or Marc and Meagan directly. There is certainly power in numbers and we look forward to another inspiring day!
The following link will direct you to the Dirty Duathalon website – for registration and information.
http://runnerslife.ca/xnew/html/modules/newbbex/viewtopic.php?topic_id=2956&forum=1&post_id=10385#forumpost10385
Last year we invited family and friends to donate to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Southlake Regional Health Center in honour of Nicholas. We were overwhelmed with the response and humbled to be able to contribute to such an important initiative in Nicholas’ name.
This year, we have another vision to celebrate and honour Nicholas. Jim, Evan, Kyle, Madison and I, along with some very generous friends and family, will be creating some special Hospital Memory/Comfort Boxes for the labour and delivery ward of our local hospital. During the past 3 years I have been fortunate enough to meet and support some extraordinary parents who are suffering the loss of their babies. It is my understanding and my experience that not too much exists in terms of tangible care and support when you are forced to leave the hospital with empty arms.
It is our hope to provide items in these packages to newly bereaved parents that may help in memorializing their babies. When parents are forced to face the unimaginable; saying goodbye to their children, tangible things such as pictures and hand/footprints aren’t often thought about until it’s too late. Our goal is to offer comforting options... options that are not typically thought of in the fresh stages of grief.
Our Memory/Comfort Boxes will include the following:
• Tea light
• Journal & pen
• Angel Wings
• Small blankets
• Small knit hats
• Disposable cameras
• Water soluble ink pad and paper for hand/footprints
• Poems and support information
Jim, Evan, Kyle, Madison and I would like to invite you to support “Team Nicholas” in honour of our son, Nicholas Warren Reeves, this November 5, 2011.
By donating any of the above items for our Memory/Comfort Boxes or by visiting the Angel Wings Memorial Boutique (http://angelwingsmemorialboutique.blogspot.com) and donating via PayPal you will be helping us to celebrate Nicholas’ life, honouring his memory and supporting newly bereaved parents in creating precious memories of their children.
I would also like to take the opportunity to introduce you to a dear friend and fellow grieving mother, Caroline. Caroline said goodbye to her second son, James, at Southlake Regional Health Center on January 20, 2011. Caroline has become a beautiful friend and is offering her time and her heart to this wonderful cause. It is because of our friendship and her support that we dedicate the Memory/Comfort Boxes in James’ name as well as Nicholas. I am certain that they are magical friends in the clouds.
We thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for taking the time to consider remembering our precious Nicholas in such a special way.
If you are interested in donating items for our Memory/Comfort Boxes OR if you are interested in contributing a monetary gift to help in purchasing the items for the boxes via PayPal please visit the following link (http://angelwingsmemorialboutique.blogspot.com). There is a “donate” button on the left panel. Please be sure to indicate your donation is for the Memory/Comfort Boxes.
Or, you may contact me directly.
lcreeves3@hotmail.com
905-967-1274
455 Heddle Cres
Newmarket, ON
L3X 2J4
As we hope to deliver the boxes on November 7th, 2011, donations would be appreciated by October 21st, 2011. This will give us 2 weeks to create these special memoirs. Thank you so much.
Every donation provides hope. Every gift is precious.
With Love and Gratitude,
Marcus, Meagan, Noah and Finnley Olson
&
Leanna, Jim ,Evan, Kyle, Madison and Angel Baby Nicholas Reeves
“I would rather have had one breath of his hair, one kiss of his mouth,
one touch of his hand, than an eternity without it…”
Dear Family and Friends,
It’s hard to believe that we are approaching Nicholas’ 3rd Angel Day. The past three years have been intense, unpredictable and full of unimaginable grief, but they have also been filled with hope, inspiration and an incredible amount of healing. Although it is painful to not have Nicholas here with us, his spirit and his legacy have infused our family with indomitable strength and immeasurable love over the past 3 years. We remember him often, we honour him daily, we love him unconditionally. He is forever a part of our hearts and our souls.
Many of you will remember that for the past two years, on or around November 7th, our dear friends, Marcus and Meagan Olson participate in a duathalon in honour of our baby boy. The experiences we have witnessed on these days have been truly beautiful and perfect. We are so thankful to have such a wonderful and positive focus on a day that is extremely emotional for our family. This year, on November 5, 2011, we will again be participating in the same duathalon and dedicating the day to Nicholas. We are very blessed to have such a wonderful support system.
This year we would like to invite anyone who is interested in being a part of “Team Nicholas” to participate. Marcus will be racing in the long (3.8K Run – 10K Bike – 3.8K Run) course. There is also a short (short (1.9k Run-5k Bike-1.9k Run) course for those who are interested.
The duathalon will be held on Saturday, November 5, 2011 at Sir Sanford Fleming College in Peterborough, Ontario. The course is completely off road and is a mix of single track and open trails. If you are interested in participating please contact myself or Marc and Meagan directly. There is certainly power in numbers and we look forward to another inspiring day!
The following link will direct you to the Dirty Duathalon website – for registration and information.
http://runnerslife.ca/xnew/html/modules/newbbex/viewtopic.php?topic_id=2956&forum=1&post_id=10385#forumpost10385
Last year we invited family and friends to donate to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Southlake Regional Health Center in honour of Nicholas. We were overwhelmed with the response and humbled to be able to contribute to such an important initiative in Nicholas’ name.
This year, we have another vision to celebrate and honour Nicholas. Jim, Evan, Kyle, Madison and I, along with some very generous friends and family, will be creating some special Hospital Memory/Comfort Boxes for the labour and delivery ward of our local hospital. During the past 3 years I have been fortunate enough to meet and support some extraordinary parents who are suffering the loss of their babies. It is my understanding and my experience that not too much exists in terms of tangible care and support when you are forced to leave the hospital with empty arms.
It is our hope to provide items in these packages to newly bereaved parents that may help in memorializing their babies. When parents are forced to face the unimaginable; saying goodbye to their children, tangible things such as pictures and hand/footprints aren’t often thought about until it’s too late. Our goal is to offer comforting options... options that are not typically thought of in the fresh stages of grief.
Our Memory/Comfort Boxes will include the following:
• Tea light
• Journal & pen
• Angel Wings
• Small blankets
• Small knit hats
• Disposable cameras
• Water soluble ink pad and paper for hand/footprints
• Poems and support information
Jim, Evan, Kyle, Madison and I would like to invite you to support “Team Nicholas” in honour of our son, Nicholas Warren Reeves, this November 5, 2011.
By donating any of the above items for our Memory/Comfort Boxes or by visiting the Angel Wings Memorial Boutique (http://angelwingsmemorialboutique.blogspot.com) and donating via PayPal you will be helping us to celebrate Nicholas’ life, honouring his memory and supporting newly bereaved parents in creating precious memories of their children.
I would also like to take the opportunity to introduce you to a dear friend and fellow grieving mother, Caroline. Caroline said goodbye to her second son, James, at Southlake Regional Health Center on January 20, 2011. Caroline has become a beautiful friend and is offering her time and her heart to this wonderful cause. It is because of our friendship and her support that we dedicate the Memory/Comfort Boxes in James’ name as well as Nicholas. I am certain that they are magical friends in the clouds.
We thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for taking the time to consider remembering our precious Nicholas in such a special way.
If you are interested in donating items for our Memory/Comfort Boxes OR if you are interested in contributing a monetary gift to help in purchasing the items for the boxes via PayPal please visit the following link (http://angelwingsmemorialboutique.blogspot.com). There is a “donate” button on the left panel. Please be sure to indicate your donation is for the Memory/Comfort Boxes.
Or, you may contact me directly.
lcreeves3@hotmail.com
905-967-1274
455 Heddle Cres
Newmarket, ON
L3X 2J4
As we hope to deliver the boxes on November 7th, 2011, donations would be appreciated by October 21st, 2011. This will give us 2 weeks to create these special memoirs. Thank you so much.
Every donation provides hope. Every gift is precious.
With Love and Gratitude,
Marcus, Meagan, Noah and Finnley Olson
&
Leanna, Jim ,Evan, Kyle, Madison and Angel Baby Nicholas Reeves
“I would rather have had one breath of his hair, one kiss of his mouth,
one touch of his hand, than an eternity without it…”
Friday, September 23, 2011
Moving Post
Team Ewan - And Everything After
What a profoundly moving post. Speaks volumes. We can relate so deeply.
What a profoundly moving post. Speaks volumes. We can relate so deeply.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Beyond Hope
Thank you to Franchesca for keeping this blog hop going. I feel honoured to be able to be a part of it.
I think the biggest thing that brings me hope lately is the return of my own sense of hope. I can feel it again. I mean truly feel it... and being able to feel so deeply and without inhibition again is truly something I never thought would be part of my life again.
Since losing Nicholas almost three ago, I have had glimpses of hope... I've seen the light.. I have won some of the battles. When I look into our other boys eyes, I am hopeful for their future. When we found out we were expecting again after Nicholas, although petrified, I could feel the glory of family start to surround me again. And when Miss Madison was born and safe and sound on my chest, I could believe in the beauty of miracles again. but if I am honest with myself, there was always a cloud reigning overhead. Always a strong feeling of something bad to come. I am certain that these feelings were my own... I am certain that my brain was protecting my heart and not letting any guards down. I am certain that when you go through something as life changing as losing a child your senses and your heart are permanently altered.
Lately I have felt a lot more free. Free from the heaviness. Free from the burden that encapsulated my soul for so long. Of course, I have my moments... my days. Sometimes I picture Nicholas beautiful, beautiful face and I literally must catch breath at the thought of him not being here. It's amazing how one small, split second can send your heart reeling.
Most of my days feel lighter and truly happier. I agree with Franchesca when she said "hope is not just about feeling it in your life, it's about choosing it." How incredibly true and what a changing experience it is when you finally realize that. As bereaved parents we can choose so many paths. One of despair and desperation or one of faith and hope. I am a firm believer that it is much, much more difficult to choose the latter. It requires indomitable strength, courage and a will to survive such tragedy.
There are so many women in this community that exude all of those qualities. Women I am humbled to call "friends". Women I have learned so much from. Women who have taught me to 'choose hope'.
Love you Ladies....
Love you Nicholas...
I think the biggest thing that brings me hope lately is the return of my own sense of hope. I can feel it again. I mean truly feel it... and being able to feel so deeply and without inhibition again is truly something I never thought would be part of my life again.
Since losing Nicholas almost three ago, I have had glimpses of hope... I've seen the light.. I have won some of the battles. When I look into our other boys eyes, I am hopeful for their future. When we found out we were expecting again after Nicholas, although petrified, I could feel the glory of family start to surround me again. And when Miss Madison was born and safe and sound on my chest, I could believe in the beauty of miracles again. but if I am honest with myself, there was always a cloud reigning overhead. Always a strong feeling of something bad to come. I am certain that these feelings were my own... I am certain that my brain was protecting my heart and not letting any guards down. I am certain that when you go through something as life changing as losing a child your senses and your heart are permanently altered.
Lately I have felt a lot more free. Free from the heaviness. Free from the burden that encapsulated my soul for so long. Of course, I have my moments... my days. Sometimes I picture Nicholas beautiful, beautiful face and I literally must catch breath at the thought of him not being here. It's amazing how one small, split second can send your heart reeling.
Most of my days feel lighter and truly happier. I agree with Franchesca when she said "hope is not just about feeling it in your life, it's about choosing it." How incredibly true and what a changing experience it is when you finally realize that. As bereaved parents we can choose so many paths. One of despair and desperation or one of faith and hope. I am a firm believer that it is much, much more difficult to choose the latter. It requires indomitable strength, courage and a will to survive such tragedy.
There are so many women in this community that exude all of those qualities. Women I am humbled to call "friends". Women I have learned so much from. Women who have taught me to 'choose hope'.
Love you Ladies....
Love you Nicholas...
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Summer Secrets
It's been so long since I have visited Nicholas' Touch. A part of me feels guilty for not maintaining his space in a way I feel I should. Another part of me knows that there isn't a day that goes by where Nicholas' name is not mentioned and he is thought of with love and adoration. Just last night, while we were experiencing some pretty wicked weather, Kyle (5 years) was uncomfortable with the thunder and lightning. It was wild and loud and very, very close. As we sat on the couch watching the storm I explained to him that when I was a child my mommy and daddy said that thunder is the Angels having a bowling match. He thought about it for a while and seemed satisfied with this way of thinking. After the next big crack of thunder he turned to me with a smile and let me know that Nicholas just got a spare. Bless his heart. It's in those moments I am so incredibly proud of our kids. They have such love in their souls... it touches everyone.
We have had a beautifully hot, dry and sunny summer. The kids and I have been lucky enough to be up at our family cottage for most of it. Day trips have been wonderful. Day camps have been full of fun and friends. Hanging out in the water or on the back road catching frogs has been memorable. And the laughter has been contagious. It's been nice to have the laughter back... in full swing. For so long I felt like I was holding back. Like I didn't deserve the laughter, the fun, the peace and tranquility.
We have also had plenty of ladybug visits. For the first few weeks there was nothing and I could feel myself getting anxious for a sign.... any kind of sign. Then we started seeing quite a few. In the garden as we picked lettuce for dinner. In the swimming pool with Madison, on the bright, yellow flowers down by the lake. There is such a sweet comfort with those tiny, little bugs. A comfort that is so desperately needed some days.
I have had a dream this summer. A couple of times. It plays the same theme. A horrific, sad and torturess theme. Haunting and down right cruel. I don't think I can even write about it here. I don't think I could put it into any kind of words that would make sense. I just know that it's exhausting and is playing havoc with my mostly comforted heart. Just when you think you have come to terms, or at least found some peace, your mind reminds you of the terrifying details. I can only imagine it will always be this way and we must take the blows as they come... but, man, is it tough.
I read the other day, on a baby loss forum ~ "the loss of a baby/child... there is nothing more devastating... I have known people who have been destroyed..." I must pay tribute to so many for not being "destroyed" from our loss. My husband, my children, my parents and my much loved and cherished friends who chose to stick by me through the darkest days. I credit the Angel Wings Boutique with giving me the strength to offer comfort and support to other grieving parents. I am so thankful to Nicholas and his spirit. He lifts me up when I need lifting. He shines his beautiful light when I'm in the dark. And he whispers in my ear when I need soothing.
What I wouldn't give to feel the weight of his tiny body in my arms again....
Love you, Buddy.
We have had a beautifully hot, dry and sunny summer. The kids and I have been lucky enough to be up at our family cottage for most of it. Day trips have been wonderful. Day camps have been full of fun and friends. Hanging out in the water or on the back road catching frogs has been memorable. And the laughter has been contagious. It's been nice to have the laughter back... in full swing. For so long I felt like I was holding back. Like I didn't deserve the laughter, the fun, the peace and tranquility.
We have also had plenty of ladybug visits. For the first few weeks there was nothing and I could feel myself getting anxious for a sign.... any kind of sign. Then we started seeing quite a few. In the garden as we picked lettuce for dinner. In the swimming pool with Madison, on the bright, yellow flowers down by the lake. There is such a sweet comfort with those tiny, little bugs. A comfort that is so desperately needed some days.
I have had a dream this summer. A couple of times. It plays the same theme. A horrific, sad and torturess theme. Haunting and down right cruel. I don't think I can even write about it here. I don't think I could put it into any kind of words that would make sense. I just know that it's exhausting and is playing havoc with my mostly comforted heart. Just when you think you have come to terms, or at least found some peace, your mind reminds you of the terrifying details. I can only imagine it will always be this way and we must take the blows as they come... but, man, is it tough.
I read the other day, on a baby loss forum ~ "the loss of a baby/child... there is nothing more devastating... I have known people who have been destroyed..." I must pay tribute to so many for not being "destroyed" from our loss. My husband, my children, my parents and my much loved and cherished friends who chose to stick by me through the darkest days. I credit the Angel Wings Boutique with giving me the strength to offer comfort and support to other grieving parents. I am so thankful to Nicholas and his spirit. He lifts me up when I need lifting. He shines his beautiful light when I'm in the dark. And he whispers in my ear when I need soothing.
What I wouldn't give to feel the weight of his tiny body in my arms again....
Love you, Buddy.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Some Answers
Thank you all for such a positive response. It's always nice to know who is reading and who may be getting something out of our personal experience.
Lesley
Lea,
There is a question I know I have been pondering myself, and wanted to throw it out there to you and your readers. After we lost our only daughter in 2009, we knew that we wanted to try to have another baby. Our Rainbow baby boy was born in april 2010. People keep asking us if we are "done" and I struggle with the answer. There is a want deep within me, but I can't tell if that feeling is the wanting of another baby, or just wanting the daughter I lost. Does anyone else feel that way? How do you separate the feelings?
Caroline
You should know that some of my most comforting moments in this terrible journey have come from you. Never doubt the incredible support you offer to those of us struggling along the way.
I would be intersted in knowing how you knew you were ready to try again.
*************
Such honest questions, Lesley and Caroline. I think they are fairly similar in nature so I thought I'd offer my advice and thinking of both together.
Lesley ~ Although I am not in the same position, I can honestly say that I would most probably feel some of the same way. My husband and I always said that we would try to have 3 children. We each come from 3 children homes and I guess it just felt right to us. Nicholas was our third baby. When we were given his devastating diagnosis and prognosis our hearts were broken, our souls shattered. We survived for 1 1/2 weeks knowing that our son was not going to make it and in that time we searched for answers and for solace. We talked to him, we sang to him, we rubbed him and cradled him while safe in my belly. We asked him for strength.. for any kind of courage to face the days without him. Nicholas' force became apparent when we got pregnant with our rainbow. I felt his support and encouragement every step of the way.
Lesley ~ I remember thinking during the entire pregnancy with Madison that, although first and foremost I prayed for a healthy, live baby.. I secretly prayed for a girl. I honestly felt like having a girl in my arms would help me through the anxiety of holding another newborn. That one something different from Nicholas. A different dynamic. A little pink hat rather than a blue one to remind me of Nicholas' little face. Personally, I was also afraid that having a little boy would be like a replacement Nicholas to some people. I was fiercely afraid of that. Afraid that somehow his memory would be erased in other's minds because another little boy was with us. Probably really silly, but so unbelievably true. When the doctors continually said we were having a girl I wasn't convinced. After three boys, I was sure we would be adding another beautiful son to our family. And when she was born the anxiety, mixed with the sheer joy of a safe arrival was still there. The pink hat didn't matter... Nicholas' face is etched in my soul.
Caroline ~ yours is a question I struggled with for quite a while... even once we became pregnant again. That's the thing. I don't believe we are ever completely "ready" for a subsequent pregnancy after such a heartbreaking loss. Our hearts are forever changed. Our minds forever filled with fear of the unknown. We will never have another calm, gentle and naive pregnancy. I can't pinpoint the exact time we chose to try again. All we knew was that we desperately needed to bring some hope back to our lives and to our living children's lives. And although our pregnancy with Madison was extremely nerve wracking it was most definitely filled with hope. It gave us a positive focus and something to believe in again. In the end, it was the best thing for us and for our family. I think it's pretty fitting that we call Madison "Little Miss Sunshine"... she has brought some much needed sunshine back to our lives.
I think we also worry so much about our lost babies being forgotten... especially once a rainbow comes along. For us that couldn't be further from the truth. Nicholas is with us every single day. He and Madison share such a special and unique bond. I truly believe that he was by her side the night she was born and is flying above ensuring her safety always. James will most certainly do the same for his mommy and new baby brother or sister when the time comes. He will always be engrained in your family. Your very own Guardian Angel.
Holly
think this is great of you to want to help so much.
I was curious...how many angel wings have you sent out to date?
Holly ~ without being super accurate... I have posted over 450 wings and posted out approximately 400. ~ crazy!
Lesley
Lea,
There is a question I know I have been pondering myself, and wanted to throw it out there to you and your readers. After we lost our only daughter in 2009, we knew that we wanted to try to have another baby. Our Rainbow baby boy was born in april 2010. People keep asking us if we are "done" and I struggle with the answer. There is a want deep within me, but I can't tell if that feeling is the wanting of another baby, or just wanting the daughter I lost. Does anyone else feel that way? How do you separate the feelings?
Caroline
You should know that some of my most comforting moments in this terrible journey have come from you. Never doubt the incredible support you offer to those of us struggling along the way.
I would be intersted in knowing how you knew you were ready to try again.
*************
Such honest questions, Lesley and Caroline. I think they are fairly similar in nature so I thought I'd offer my advice and thinking of both together.
Lesley ~ Although I am not in the same position, I can honestly say that I would most probably feel some of the same way. My husband and I always said that we would try to have 3 children. We each come from 3 children homes and I guess it just felt right to us. Nicholas was our third baby. When we were given his devastating diagnosis and prognosis our hearts were broken, our souls shattered. We survived for 1 1/2 weeks knowing that our son was not going to make it and in that time we searched for answers and for solace. We talked to him, we sang to him, we rubbed him and cradled him while safe in my belly. We asked him for strength.. for any kind of courage to face the days without him. Nicholas' force became apparent when we got pregnant with our rainbow. I felt his support and encouragement every step of the way.
Lesley ~ I remember thinking during the entire pregnancy with Madison that, although first and foremost I prayed for a healthy, live baby.. I secretly prayed for a girl. I honestly felt like having a girl in my arms would help me through the anxiety of holding another newborn. That one something different from Nicholas. A different dynamic. A little pink hat rather than a blue one to remind me of Nicholas' little face. Personally, I was also afraid that having a little boy would be like a replacement Nicholas to some people. I was fiercely afraid of that. Afraid that somehow his memory would be erased in other's minds because another little boy was with us. Probably really silly, but so unbelievably true. When the doctors continually said we were having a girl I wasn't convinced. After three boys, I was sure we would be adding another beautiful son to our family. And when she was born the anxiety, mixed with the sheer joy of a safe arrival was still there. The pink hat didn't matter... Nicholas' face is etched in my soul.
Caroline ~ yours is a question I struggled with for quite a while... even once we became pregnant again. That's the thing. I don't believe we are ever completely "ready" for a subsequent pregnancy after such a heartbreaking loss. Our hearts are forever changed. Our minds forever filled with fear of the unknown. We will never have another calm, gentle and naive pregnancy. I can't pinpoint the exact time we chose to try again. All we knew was that we desperately needed to bring some hope back to our lives and to our living children's lives. And although our pregnancy with Madison was extremely nerve wracking it was most definitely filled with hope. It gave us a positive focus and something to believe in again. In the end, it was the best thing for us and for our family. I think it's pretty fitting that we call Madison "Little Miss Sunshine"... she has brought some much needed sunshine back to our lives.
I think we also worry so much about our lost babies being forgotten... especially once a rainbow comes along. For us that couldn't be further from the truth. Nicholas is with us every single day. He and Madison share such a special and unique bond. I truly believe that he was by her side the night she was born and is flying above ensuring her safety always. James will most certainly do the same for his mommy and new baby brother or sister when the time comes. He will always be engrained in your family. Your very own Guardian Angel.
Holly
think this is great of you to want to help so much.
I was curious...how many angel wings have you sent out to date?
Holly ~ without being super accurate... I have posted over 450 wings and posted out approximately 400. ~ crazy!
Friday, June 24, 2011
Open Forum - Questions For Me?
I've said it before.... there have been many people IRL lately who have been forced to join this awful club. Old friends, new friends, friends of friends... all women who have had to say goodbye to their precious babies much too soon. There is a pull in my heart... a desire to want to try to help. To try to offer comfort. To try to find some words that allow both understanding of current pain and hope for the future.
I'm not convinced that I am doing a good job.
That's where you (Nicholas' Touch readers) come in.
No matter where you are in your journey...
Whether your pain is fresh and still soul searing... or the raw pain has gently subsided...
I would love to hear from you.
Is there anything in particular that you would like my perspective on in terms of this journey?
Are there any direct questions that I can answer honestly and truthfully for you?
Please let me know. I would love some direction.... some guidance in my quest to help...
With Love,
Lea
I'm not convinced that I am doing a good job.
That's where you (Nicholas' Touch readers) come in.
No matter where you are in your journey...
Whether your pain is fresh and still soul searing... or the raw pain has gently subsided...
I would love to hear from you.
Is there anything in particular that you would like my perspective on in terms of this journey?
Are there any direct questions that I can answer honestly and truthfully for you?
Please let me know. I would love some direction.... some guidance in my quest to help...
With Love,
Lea
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Balsam Lake will never be the same...
Thought about you so much yesterday, Nicholas. We've been to some pretty tough funerals... this one was not an exception.
The tears flowed freely as I remembered some great memories with C, as I imagined the pain the family is feeling, as I remembered the closeness your Nana and Papa shared with her.
The tears flowed freely for her sons. Realizing what a special and strong support they have lost.
The tears flowed freely for her husband. Grief stricken and devastated by the fact that his life's partner was taken so tragically.
The tears flowed freely as I held you close to my heart, sweet boy... as I flashed back to the agonizing moments of saying goodbye to you, one of our most precious possessions in this world.
The tears flowed freely as I realized that there is now one more beautiful soul in Heaven looking out for you.
We'll miss you, C. Balsam Lake will never be same....
The tears flowed freely as I remembered some great memories with C, as I imagined the pain the family is feeling, as I remembered the closeness your Nana and Papa shared with her.
The tears flowed freely for her sons. Realizing what a special and strong support they have lost.
The tears flowed freely for her husband. Grief stricken and devastated by the fact that his life's partner was taken so tragically.
The tears flowed freely as I held you close to my heart, sweet boy... as I flashed back to the agonizing moments of saying goodbye to you, one of our most precious possessions in this world.
The tears flowed freely as I realized that there is now one more beautiful soul in Heaven looking out for you.
We'll miss you, C. Balsam Lake will never be same....
Friday, June 17, 2011
Blossom
Looking at the calendar the other day I realized just where we'd be had "Blossom" survived. July 15 was our due date and it's hard to believe that we are almost upon July. Madison decided to show up 4 weeks early... I can't help but think about the fact that this baby could have showed up early and been home right now...
Amazing what a blink of an eye can do. Amazing what the universe can throw at the human spirit...
To be honest, we weren't ready for another baby. I wasn't convinced that I could physically or emotionally endure another pregnancy. I was fairly certain that my mind would finally break from terror and I definitely wasn't confident that we could make it to the end. The emotional hazard of experiencing the horrifying loss of a baby, I guess.
But, in the short time that we knew about "Blossom", we planned, we accepted, we tried to put our minds at ease..... and we were comfortable with the fact that, once again, we had been blessed.
Every so often I think about what could have been where "Blossom" is concerned. I believe that our baby was taken because something wasn't right, but it doesn't make the wonder any less.
Just watching the calendar in remembrance and healing.....
Amazing what a blink of an eye can do. Amazing what the universe can throw at the human spirit...
To be honest, we weren't ready for another baby. I wasn't convinced that I could physically or emotionally endure another pregnancy. I was fairly certain that my mind would finally break from terror and I definitely wasn't confident that we could make it to the end. The emotional hazard of experiencing the horrifying loss of a baby, I guess.
But, in the short time that we knew about "Blossom", we planned, we accepted, we tried to put our minds at ease..... and we were comfortable with the fact that, once again, we had been blessed.
Every so often I think about what could have been where "Blossom" is concerned. I believe that our baby was taken because something wasn't right, but it doesn't make the wonder any less.
Just watching the calendar in remembrance and healing.....
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
A Ladybug Visit to Soothe our Soul
We saw a ladybug this morning.
Perfectly perched on our magnolia tree.
Peaceful and still.
A vibrant colour of red...
it reminded me of your hair.
The most perfect and gentle combination of crimson and auburn.
The ladybug landed and decided to stay for a while.
Kyle couldn't take his eyes off of it and I imagined what was swirling around in his innocent 5 year old head.
The ladybug flew away after several minutes... Kyle piped up;
"Mommy, he flew away. High in the sky to the real Nicholas."
Bless his beautiful heart.
We miss and think about you every day, sweet Nicholas.
Perfectly perched on our magnolia tree.
Peaceful and still.
A vibrant colour of red...
it reminded me of your hair.
The most perfect and gentle combination of crimson and auburn.
The ladybug landed and decided to stay for a while.
Kyle couldn't take his eyes off of it and I imagined what was swirling around in his innocent 5 year old head.
The ladybug flew away after several minutes... Kyle piped up;
"Mommy, he flew away. High in the sky to the real Nicholas."
Bless his beautiful heart.
We miss and think about you every day, sweet Nicholas.
Monday, May 30, 2011
April 18, 2009
My heart has been aching so much recently for some new "members" to our baby loss club. I struggle to try to find the words to let them know that they are not alone... that the feelings they are feeling are so completely normal, although horribly draining. It got me thinking to a post I wrote on April 18, 2009. It follows:
TO GET SOMEWHERE, YOU HAVE TO LEAVE NOWHERE BEHIND
I have been thinking about this sentiment a lot lately; to get somewhere you have to leave nowhere behind.
There have been many things in my life that I have been fearful of. When I was young, and in grade school, I was extremely shy. I would physically get sick if I was requested to answer a question in front of the entire class and forget it if there was a presentation of some kind. I had come a long, long way from being that insecure, afraid little girl.... until my son died.
Back then, challenging my fear was not something I wanted to do, but if I wanted to do well in school and make my teachers proud, I had to conquer that fear. At the time I didn't realize the subtle things I was learning by pushing myself and expanding my comfort zone. I didn't know that my confidence would grow, propelling me to take risks in other areas of my life. The lesson learned was that in order to get somewhere you must leave nowhere behind.
After Nicholas died I found myself living in 'nowhere' land (still do sometimes). That was fine with me. My comfort zone had been shattered, nothing will ever be the same as it was. We have been forced to take this unwanted journey through grief. The pain can be so intense and so powerful, it's often hard to put one foot in front of the other.
"Nowhere" land was just fine for while. I wanted to stay there for a long time. Nowhere became very comfortable... somewhere is not a place I wanted to go.
I still find myself not wanting to go somewhere... to stay in "nowhere" land, but it's that comfort in being nowhere when I think we subconciously make a decision to either stay in 'nowhere' or challenge ourselves - answering a question in front of the class confidently, so to speak. We must work at going somewhere, even though we may be afraid of where somewhere will take us.
I remember thinking that "anywhere is better than nowhere" ... "I am tired, no, exhausted, of feeling so sad all the time". I think that was one of my 'light bulb' moments. It was after recognizing that "anywhere is better than nowhere" that I felt some healing begin. Most days I am still scared as to where this somewhere will take me, take us. The unknown is frightening. We are walking blind. I just wish that there was a crystal ball on the path to 'somewhere'.
Grief is scary, scary stuff. Grief has pounded us, tortured us, exhausted us.... it's definitely hard to get back up sometimes. Yet, somehow we manage to keep breathing, somehow we manage to exist.
It's very scary to go 'somewhere' and leave 'nowhere' behind. I was terrified that that meant leaving Nicholas behind - now I know that that is the furthest from the truth. He will travel with me to 'somewhere'. He will help me get there. He will help me get back up when I stumble along the way. I truly believe that if we acknowledge our pain, confront it, the pain will slowly lessen.... our lives will get a little more manageable. It's all so hard... but if we want to work at it, we can do it.
Writing helps me, as I know it helps many of you wonderful ladies reading here. If writing helps to relieve some pain, then I say go for it. If talking to someone, hugging someone, yelling at the wall helps you, then go for it! I think it's so important for us to let out our emotions.. even the scary ones. It's okay to let others know what you need (or what you don't need). It's a sign of strength to ask for help. Help and support is out there, we should use it. As we express our emotions, we are beginning to heal. We are beginning to go 'somewhere'.
I once heard a quote that said "Even though the deaths of our children have absolutely crushed us, it is because of their lives that we must fight for our lives." Wow, how true is that! I am constantly learning about the little things that I can do to take down my path to 'somewhere', to a happier place. These things are ever changing (I suspect they always will be).
One way that will help me in my quest for going 'somewhere' will eventually be to help others. The love I have for Nicholas can be spread around, to those in need, to those who are new to this journey. I am looking forward to spreading that love when I feel ready to do so.
I think that "to get somewhere you have to leave nowhere behind" will always be a battle. We will forever carry our grief with us, just as we do our precious babies, but I don't want that to mean that we are destined to live a 'grief stricken' life. We will have to fight to go 'somewhere'... fight for a place of hope, for a place of meaning. Fighting is so hard, but I have to believe that it's worth it, we are worth it and our Angels are worth it.
TO GET SOMEWHERE, YOU HAVE TO LEAVE NOWHERE BEHIND
I have been thinking about this sentiment a lot lately; to get somewhere you have to leave nowhere behind.
There have been many things in my life that I have been fearful of. When I was young, and in grade school, I was extremely shy. I would physically get sick if I was requested to answer a question in front of the entire class and forget it if there was a presentation of some kind. I had come a long, long way from being that insecure, afraid little girl.... until my son died.
Back then, challenging my fear was not something I wanted to do, but if I wanted to do well in school and make my teachers proud, I had to conquer that fear. At the time I didn't realize the subtle things I was learning by pushing myself and expanding my comfort zone. I didn't know that my confidence would grow, propelling me to take risks in other areas of my life. The lesson learned was that in order to get somewhere you must leave nowhere behind.
After Nicholas died I found myself living in 'nowhere' land (still do sometimes). That was fine with me. My comfort zone had been shattered, nothing will ever be the same as it was. We have been forced to take this unwanted journey through grief. The pain can be so intense and so powerful, it's often hard to put one foot in front of the other.
"Nowhere" land was just fine for while. I wanted to stay there for a long time. Nowhere became very comfortable... somewhere is not a place I wanted to go.
I still find myself not wanting to go somewhere... to stay in "nowhere" land, but it's that comfort in being nowhere when I think we subconciously make a decision to either stay in 'nowhere' or challenge ourselves - answering a question in front of the class confidently, so to speak. We must work at going somewhere, even though we may be afraid of where somewhere will take us.
I remember thinking that "anywhere is better than nowhere" ... "I am tired, no, exhausted, of feeling so sad all the time". I think that was one of my 'light bulb' moments. It was after recognizing that "anywhere is better than nowhere" that I felt some healing begin. Most days I am still scared as to where this somewhere will take me, take us. The unknown is frightening. We are walking blind. I just wish that there was a crystal ball on the path to 'somewhere'.
Grief is scary, scary stuff. Grief has pounded us, tortured us, exhausted us.... it's definitely hard to get back up sometimes. Yet, somehow we manage to keep breathing, somehow we manage to exist.
It's very scary to go 'somewhere' and leave 'nowhere' behind. I was terrified that that meant leaving Nicholas behind - now I know that that is the furthest from the truth. He will travel with me to 'somewhere'. He will help me get there. He will help me get back up when I stumble along the way. I truly believe that if we acknowledge our pain, confront it, the pain will slowly lessen.... our lives will get a little more manageable. It's all so hard... but if we want to work at it, we can do it.
Writing helps me, as I know it helps many of you wonderful ladies reading here. If writing helps to relieve some pain, then I say go for it. If talking to someone, hugging someone, yelling at the wall helps you, then go for it! I think it's so important for us to let out our emotions.. even the scary ones. It's okay to let others know what you need (or what you don't need). It's a sign of strength to ask for help. Help and support is out there, we should use it. As we express our emotions, we are beginning to heal. We are beginning to go 'somewhere'.
I once heard a quote that said "Even though the deaths of our children have absolutely crushed us, it is because of their lives that we must fight for our lives." Wow, how true is that! I am constantly learning about the little things that I can do to take down my path to 'somewhere', to a happier place. These things are ever changing (I suspect they always will be).
One way that will help me in my quest for going 'somewhere' will eventually be to help others. The love I have for Nicholas can be spread around, to those in need, to those who are new to this journey. I am looking forward to spreading that love when I feel ready to do so.
I think that "to get somewhere you have to leave nowhere behind" will always be a battle. We will forever carry our grief with us, just as we do our precious babies, but I don't want that to mean that we are destined to live a 'grief stricken' life. We will have to fight to go 'somewhere'... fight for a place of hope, for a place of meaning. Fighting is so hard, but I have to believe that it's worth it, we are worth it and our Angels are worth it.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
"Right Where I Am" ~ Two Years, 6 months, 19 Days
First off a big thank you to Angie at Still Life With Circles for starting this discussion. I think it's an important one to have. I think it's important to write, to connect, to remember and to recognize that no matter where we are in our journey of forever grieving our children, what we feel and don't feel on a regular basis is OK and it's important to share.
We are Two Years, 6 Months and 19 Days along on our journey. It seems so surreal to even type that, let alone accept it. Sometimes it feels like forever ago since we held our baby boy in our arms and said goodbye... other days the memories and the pain are so strong it's almost palpable. I think it will always be that way. I will always miss Nicholas. I will always miss his strong, timely kicks in my belly. I will always miss his smell... his touch. I will always wonder what it would be like to have 3 boys and a girl filling our home with laughter. I will always miss his life in my life.
But, time has a way of marching on. The world somehow continues to spin when our world has seemingly come to a crashing halt. It's amazing, but the old cliche that "time heals" is partly true. I don't believe I will ever be "healed". The chunk of my heart that left with my baby boy will never repair itself, but time has surely softened the anguish. I can talk about Nicholas with a smile. I can stare at his pictures and not break down and cry. I can light his candle and be proud that he chose me to be his mommy.
The hurt is still there. The "why Nicholas" will not go away, but the burden of grief has found a special spot to nestle in my heart. If someone asked me 2 1/2 years ago what my purpose in life was I don't think I would have known what to say. Today, I am certain that my purpose is to be the best mommy I can be to all four of our children which includes the delicate balance of parenting our 'earth angels' while honouring and remembering our guardian angel.
Nicholas is a huge part of our life and our family. He has a special table in our home where our most precious memories are placed. He is in our hearts. The boys talk about their brother often. They are proud to include him in their family trees at school and aren't uncomfortable to talk to others about the fact that they have a brother who died. There are still moments when our middle son, especially, will become very emotional and long for Nicholas to be here with us. They cycle through this grief journey too. As they become older, their ideas, views and comprehension changes...they ask more questions... they need more support. We have come to learn that this is perfectly normal. Although it breaks my heart that our boys had to learn such a difficult and tragic life lesson at such a young age, I am extremely proud at their response. Nicholas is embraced and he is celebrated. He has enhanced our family on so many levels.
Then there are ladybugs. To make a very long story short, on the first anniversary of Nicholas' birth/death a ladybug landed on my finger and stayed with us for literally hours.... very strange for a cold, November day in Ontario, Canada. We took it as a sign... a hope that our boy was with us that day and ever since our ladybug encounters have been extremely special. I would NEVER have been one to believe in such outrageous stories, but it's funny what grief will do to you. Truly, ladybugs come by to visit at such perfect moments... it's hard not to believe in the magic of our Angel's presence.
A year after losing Nicholas we added another beautiful baby to our family. Her name is Madison and she is pure joy. A cheeky little girl with a fiery spirit. She has been our sunshine. Our rainbow after the storm. She is a constant reminder that life is good. We are blessed. Magic happens.
This on-line community has often been my life line. When people in real life just don't get it... I come up here and sit at the computer. I devour every blog that has touched me. I learn about other stories and I feel comforted. Not comforted in the fact that there are so many of us out there, but comforted in the fact that I am not alone. I think that is the biggest thing.... there is a light bulb that will go off at some point in your journey and you will realize that you are not alone. There is support, although sometimes hidden, there is compassion, there is love and there is understanding. I am constantly amazed at the connections I have made with parents who are sometimes an ocean away. It is humbling and fantastic at the same time. I rely on comments and feedback to soldier on through my toughest days and I thank you for taking the time to read Nicholas' story.
I have also taken tremendous comfort in the Angel Wings Memorial Boutique . This initiative has been amazingly cathartic and fantasticly soothing for my soul. With every request for a pair of wings... with every story of a baby gone far too soon, my heart aches, but I am honoured to offer some comfort. Some light. Some love in such an agonizing time of pain and confusion. Nicholas' legacy flies all over the world in the form of tiny, delicate, hand-crafted Angel Wings.
Life is good. Life is different, but life is definitely good. I wouldn't change a thing. We are who we are today because of paths that we are forced to take. Decisions we are forced to make. Nicholas is engrained in my soul and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Love and strength to you all,
Lea
We are Two Years, 6 Months and 19 Days along on our journey. It seems so surreal to even type that, let alone accept it. Sometimes it feels like forever ago since we held our baby boy in our arms and said goodbye... other days the memories and the pain are so strong it's almost palpable. I think it will always be that way. I will always miss Nicholas. I will always miss his strong, timely kicks in my belly. I will always miss his smell... his touch. I will always wonder what it would be like to have 3 boys and a girl filling our home with laughter. I will always miss his life in my life.
But, time has a way of marching on. The world somehow continues to spin when our world has seemingly come to a crashing halt. It's amazing, but the old cliche that "time heals" is partly true. I don't believe I will ever be "healed". The chunk of my heart that left with my baby boy will never repair itself, but time has surely softened the anguish. I can talk about Nicholas with a smile. I can stare at his pictures and not break down and cry. I can light his candle and be proud that he chose me to be his mommy.
The hurt is still there. The "why Nicholas" will not go away, but the burden of grief has found a special spot to nestle in my heart. If someone asked me 2 1/2 years ago what my purpose in life was I don't think I would have known what to say. Today, I am certain that my purpose is to be the best mommy I can be to all four of our children which includes the delicate balance of parenting our 'earth angels' while honouring and remembering our guardian angel.
Nicholas is a huge part of our life and our family. He has a special table in our home where our most precious memories are placed. He is in our hearts. The boys talk about their brother often. They are proud to include him in their family trees at school and aren't uncomfortable to talk to others about the fact that they have a brother who died. There are still moments when our middle son, especially, will become very emotional and long for Nicholas to be here with us. They cycle through this grief journey too. As they become older, their ideas, views and comprehension changes...they ask more questions... they need more support. We have come to learn that this is perfectly normal. Although it breaks my heart that our boys had to learn such a difficult and tragic life lesson at such a young age, I am extremely proud at their response. Nicholas is embraced and he is celebrated. He has enhanced our family on so many levels.
Then there are ladybugs. To make a very long story short, on the first anniversary of Nicholas' birth/death a ladybug landed on my finger and stayed with us for literally hours.... very strange for a cold, November day in Ontario, Canada. We took it as a sign... a hope that our boy was with us that day and ever since our ladybug encounters have been extremely special. I would NEVER have been one to believe in such outrageous stories, but it's funny what grief will do to you. Truly, ladybugs come by to visit at such perfect moments... it's hard not to believe in the magic of our Angel's presence.
A year after losing Nicholas we added another beautiful baby to our family. Her name is Madison and she is pure joy. A cheeky little girl with a fiery spirit. She has been our sunshine. Our rainbow after the storm. She is a constant reminder that life is good. We are blessed. Magic happens.
This on-line community has often been my life line. When people in real life just don't get it... I come up here and sit at the computer. I devour every blog that has touched me. I learn about other stories and I feel comforted. Not comforted in the fact that there are so many of us out there, but comforted in the fact that I am not alone. I think that is the biggest thing.... there is a light bulb that will go off at some point in your journey and you will realize that you are not alone. There is support, although sometimes hidden, there is compassion, there is love and there is understanding. I am constantly amazed at the connections I have made with parents who are sometimes an ocean away. It is humbling and fantastic at the same time. I rely on comments and feedback to soldier on through my toughest days and I thank you for taking the time to read Nicholas' story.
I have also taken tremendous comfort in the Angel Wings Memorial Boutique . This initiative has been amazingly cathartic and fantasticly soothing for my soul. With every request for a pair of wings... with every story of a baby gone far too soon, my heart aches, but I am honoured to offer some comfort. Some light. Some love in such an agonizing time of pain and confusion. Nicholas' legacy flies all over the world in the form of tiny, delicate, hand-crafted Angel Wings.
Life is good. Life is different, but life is definitely good. I wouldn't change a thing. We are who we are today because of paths that we are forced to take. Decisions we are forced to make. Nicholas is engrained in my soul and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Love and strength to you all,
Lea
Thursday, May 19, 2011
I did it....
Thank you, Nicholas for embracing me with the strength and courage to get through our talk tonight. The evening was draining, but beautifully peaceful. To be in a room so full of love, support and understanding is truly amazing.
The following is my talk from tonight;
Memorial – Southlake - 2011
Hi There,
First of all I would like to personally welcome all of you here tonight. I know how difficult it is walk through those doors and I commend you all for finding the strength and the courage to be here to honour, remember and celebrate your children.
Also, please excuse me for reading tonight. I didn’t want to take the chance of not being able to get through this without a crutch.
My name is Leanna. I am a wife to one and a mommy to four beautiful children. Three of them walk beside me every day and one flies high above, never too far away. His name is Nicholas.
"I would rather have had one breath of his hair..
one kiss of his mouth..
one touch of his hand..
than an eternity without it.."
This has become one my all time favourite quotes. It gets me through the tough times. It helps me to stay focused on the blessings that life has given me. This quote is gently engraved into Nicholas ‘ Memorial stone. It embodies or love and appreciation that his life and death have imparted on our lives.
This is our story…..
Two and a half years ago my husband and I received the most devastating, unbearable and confusing news any parent can hear. Our third son, the baby we had planned. The baby we grew with, the baby we loved… was in a desperately grave condition. We were forced to face any parents worst torture ~ the unfathomable reality that our beloved child was unable to survive outside of the womb. The fact that our son’s ultimate fate was death – even before he drew his first breath.
My pregnancy was eventful. At almost 20 weeks I was rushed to the hospital and had emergency surgery to remove an 8 cm cyst that had twisted my ovary. Life-saving surgery for both myself and baby. Several doctor’s, nurses and technicians assured us that our baby boy was just fine. Safe, healthy and totally oblivious to the pain mommy was experiencing. I remember constantly thanking God for that. I gladly took every ounce of pain just knowing that our baby was thriving. As much as his strong kicks hurt my incisions, the tears I shed were those of gratitude. I remember every kick …. Every hiccup and I rejoiced in the fact that we had survived such a life threatening event.
I was released from the hospital and went home to rest. Quite a few weeks later, during a routine scan, my OB requested I be seen by a high risk doctor to rule out any possible problems with our baby’s ventricles in the brain. My OB was fairly certain everything was fine, but with everything we went through to get there, he wanted to be sure. I wasn’t worried. I hardly thought about it. Just an over cautious doctor, which I was grateful for.
In just a few short weeks our lives changed from anxiously expecting another beautiful, healthy son very shortly to living a nightmare in which we would never wake from.
The high risk doctor confirmed that our baby’s ventricles were indeed enlarged. Grossly enlarged…. She immediately sent us to Mt. Sinai hospital where we endured many questions, tests and long, agonizing waits.
I don’t remember much about that day, especially the latter half. I remember being escorted into an office. There were pictures of African animals everywhere…. A trip the owner of the office had taken, no doubt. Pictures of smiling children, happy families… seemingly taunting us. I remember my eyes being glazed over like they have never been before. I remember holding my husband’s hand so tightly.. for fear I would melt to the floor. We sat and we listened through the sobs to the doctors talking about our baby. Our perfect little boy. The baby who we were told was perfectly fine just a week ago. We listened as they told us that his sweet little brain had ceased to develop or it had recessed after my attack, my surgery. All that continued to run through my head was that I deprived my own child the very oxygen and blood necessary to grow…. I failed him. I failed my husband, I failed his brothers who were so desperately awaiting his arrival. I failed his grandparents…his Aunts, his Uncles….. I failed myself.
A week later, at 35 weeks pregnant, I was induced and our beautiful baby boy was born….. sound asleep. I will always remember that overwhelming feeling, just moments after I felt him leave my body, of hoping beyond hope for a cry… that somehow the doctor’s were wrong… that he fought through… I prayed for some kind of miracle as the primal screams of desperation escaped me.
We were able to spend so much precious, memorable time with our boy. We named him Nicholas Warren and he was perfect. He’s still as perfect as ever. He has such a strong presence in our lives. Nicholas is loved, remembered and honoured every single day in our home.
Fast forward to today. I wish I could say that this all makes sense now. That there is some greater purpose of forever walking this road of missing our baby boy. I’m not ready to say that. I’ll never be ready to say that. Today, none of what happened makes any sense to me. I will never accept that our baby had to die for a reason or that God has another plan for him. I don’t believe that. I certainly don’t embrace it. What I do know is that somewhere along my journey I made a promise to myself, my family and especially to Nicholas. I promised that the anguish that resides in my heart over losing him will not define me, but rather, the gratitude and distinct honour of being chosen to be his mommy will soar above all else.
The message I would like to convey tonight is that after surviving the unimaginable, there is hope. There are lighter and brighter days down the road. No matter how far along we are in this journey we must remember to be gentle on ourselves. Be patient. Be kind. Remember. Love and be loved. The sadness, the desperation, the anger… these feelings are all a part of the process. Let yourself go to those dark places, but please, remember the light too. As difficult as it is to accept that time marches on while our world has seemingly come to a crashing halt…. time is our ally. Time softens the pain. Time allows us to remember the good and not always the bad. I know that I will always physically ache for Nicholas. I often say “I miss your body in my body, I miss your soul in my soul… but mostly, I miss your life in my life”, but I also feel like that “ache” has transformed. I have learned to allow joy and grief cohabitate in my heart. It never ceases to amaze me how such definitive opposites can co-mingle so gracefully.
A very old friend once said to me; “I am not a religious person, however I have always believed in Guardian Angels. How bittersweet that you got to meet yours”… what a truly beautiful perspective.
So, I thought I would share a few key things that have helped to lift me on this difficult journey.
Firstly, I found such a huge and fantastic support system on-line. I began a blog for Nicholas, called Nicholas’ Touch where I document my most intimate, raw and candid thoughts, images, emotions. I can honestly say that writing, reaching out to others in similar situations has been amazingly cathartic for me. I am constantly amazed and humbled by the connections I have made with women who live sometimes an ocean away. I feel like I have given Nicholas somewhere tangible to be honoured. A special place for only him and I. A place where I can pour out my love for my son and maybe help others along the way. A place where our other son’s and daughter can visit one day and learn more about their brother. I feel honoured to have that opportunity. On my worst days, it gives me focus, strength and a spirit to keep on fighting.
I also have another blog. An initiative I began a few months into this journey. It’s called the Angel Wings Memorial Boutique. I create hand crafted Angel Wings for babies and children gone too soon. These Angel Wings have flown all over the world, including Australia, England, Spain… The wings are a gift from my Angel to yours. I rely solely on donations to keep the Boutique going. I find tremendous comfort in knowing that Nicholas’ legacy lives on, especially through the wings.
Having said all that….I’d like to leave you with a quote by Maya Angelou….. one that inspires me every day.
"When great souls die, our reality, bound to them, takes leave of us. Our minds formed and informed by their radiance, fall away.....And when great souls die, after a period, peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly. Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. They existed.... We can be. Be and be better. For they existed”.
Remember, our Angels are never too far away. They are in the whispers of the wind, the first spring bloom of the season.. the fluffy, white snowflakes that melt on our nose..they are in the crimson sunsets and marshmallow clouds…they are flying on butterfly wings and they are in the ladybug that lands and decides to stay for a while. Where ever you choose to “see” your Angel is the perfect spot… embrace those moments… there are always more to come.
Love and strength to you all. Peaceful healing…
The following is my talk from tonight;
Memorial – Southlake - 2011
Hi There,
First of all I would like to personally welcome all of you here tonight. I know how difficult it is walk through those doors and I commend you all for finding the strength and the courage to be here to honour, remember and celebrate your children.
Also, please excuse me for reading tonight. I didn’t want to take the chance of not being able to get through this without a crutch.
My name is Leanna. I am a wife to one and a mommy to four beautiful children. Three of them walk beside me every day and one flies high above, never too far away. His name is Nicholas.
"I would rather have had one breath of his hair..
one kiss of his mouth..
one touch of his hand..
than an eternity without it.."
This has become one my all time favourite quotes. It gets me through the tough times. It helps me to stay focused on the blessings that life has given me. This quote is gently engraved into Nicholas ‘ Memorial stone. It embodies or love and appreciation that his life and death have imparted on our lives.
This is our story…..
Two and a half years ago my husband and I received the most devastating, unbearable and confusing news any parent can hear. Our third son, the baby we had planned. The baby we grew with, the baby we loved… was in a desperately grave condition. We were forced to face any parents worst torture ~ the unfathomable reality that our beloved child was unable to survive outside of the womb. The fact that our son’s ultimate fate was death – even before he drew his first breath.
My pregnancy was eventful. At almost 20 weeks I was rushed to the hospital and had emergency surgery to remove an 8 cm cyst that had twisted my ovary. Life-saving surgery for both myself and baby. Several doctor’s, nurses and technicians assured us that our baby boy was just fine. Safe, healthy and totally oblivious to the pain mommy was experiencing. I remember constantly thanking God for that. I gladly took every ounce of pain just knowing that our baby was thriving. As much as his strong kicks hurt my incisions, the tears I shed were those of gratitude. I remember every kick …. Every hiccup and I rejoiced in the fact that we had survived such a life threatening event.
I was released from the hospital and went home to rest. Quite a few weeks later, during a routine scan, my OB requested I be seen by a high risk doctor to rule out any possible problems with our baby’s ventricles in the brain. My OB was fairly certain everything was fine, but with everything we went through to get there, he wanted to be sure. I wasn’t worried. I hardly thought about it. Just an over cautious doctor, which I was grateful for.
In just a few short weeks our lives changed from anxiously expecting another beautiful, healthy son very shortly to living a nightmare in which we would never wake from.
The high risk doctor confirmed that our baby’s ventricles were indeed enlarged. Grossly enlarged…. She immediately sent us to Mt. Sinai hospital where we endured many questions, tests and long, agonizing waits.
I don’t remember much about that day, especially the latter half. I remember being escorted into an office. There were pictures of African animals everywhere…. A trip the owner of the office had taken, no doubt. Pictures of smiling children, happy families… seemingly taunting us. I remember my eyes being glazed over like they have never been before. I remember holding my husband’s hand so tightly.. for fear I would melt to the floor. We sat and we listened through the sobs to the doctors talking about our baby. Our perfect little boy. The baby who we were told was perfectly fine just a week ago. We listened as they told us that his sweet little brain had ceased to develop or it had recessed after my attack, my surgery. All that continued to run through my head was that I deprived my own child the very oxygen and blood necessary to grow…. I failed him. I failed my husband, I failed his brothers who were so desperately awaiting his arrival. I failed his grandparents…his Aunts, his Uncles….. I failed myself.
A week later, at 35 weeks pregnant, I was induced and our beautiful baby boy was born….. sound asleep. I will always remember that overwhelming feeling, just moments after I felt him leave my body, of hoping beyond hope for a cry… that somehow the doctor’s were wrong… that he fought through… I prayed for some kind of miracle as the primal screams of desperation escaped me.
We were able to spend so much precious, memorable time with our boy. We named him Nicholas Warren and he was perfect. He’s still as perfect as ever. He has such a strong presence in our lives. Nicholas is loved, remembered and honoured every single day in our home.
Fast forward to today. I wish I could say that this all makes sense now. That there is some greater purpose of forever walking this road of missing our baby boy. I’m not ready to say that. I’ll never be ready to say that. Today, none of what happened makes any sense to me. I will never accept that our baby had to die for a reason or that God has another plan for him. I don’t believe that. I certainly don’t embrace it. What I do know is that somewhere along my journey I made a promise to myself, my family and especially to Nicholas. I promised that the anguish that resides in my heart over losing him will not define me, but rather, the gratitude and distinct honour of being chosen to be his mommy will soar above all else.
The message I would like to convey tonight is that after surviving the unimaginable, there is hope. There are lighter and brighter days down the road. No matter how far along we are in this journey we must remember to be gentle on ourselves. Be patient. Be kind. Remember. Love and be loved. The sadness, the desperation, the anger… these feelings are all a part of the process. Let yourself go to those dark places, but please, remember the light too. As difficult as it is to accept that time marches on while our world has seemingly come to a crashing halt…. time is our ally. Time softens the pain. Time allows us to remember the good and not always the bad. I know that I will always physically ache for Nicholas. I often say “I miss your body in my body, I miss your soul in my soul… but mostly, I miss your life in my life”, but I also feel like that “ache” has transformed. I have learned to allow joy and grief cohabitate in my heart. It never ceases to amaze me how such definitive opposites can co-mingle so gracefully.
A very old friend once said to me; “I am not a religious person, however I have always believed in Guardian Angels. How bittersweet that you got to meet yours”… what a truly beautiful perspective.
So, I thought I would share a few key things that have helped to lift me on this difficult journey.
Firstly, I found such a huge and fantastic support system on-line. I began a blog for Nicholas, called Nicholas’ Touch where I document my most intimate, raw and candid thoughts, images, emotions. I can honestly say that writing, reaching out to others in similar situations has been amazingly cathartic for me. I am constantly amazed and humbled by the connections I have made with women who live sometimes an ocean away. I feel like I have given Nicholas somewhere tangible to be honoured. A special place for only him and I. A place where I can pour out my love for my son and maybe help others along the way. A place where our other son’s and daughter can visit one day and learn more about their brother. I feel honoured to have that opportunity. On my worst days, it gives me focus, strength and a spirit to keep on fighting.
I also have another blog. An initiative I began a few months into this journey. It’s called the Angel Wings Memorial Boutique. I create hand crafted Angel Wings for babies and children gone too soon. These Angel Wings have flown all over the world, including Australia, England, Spain… The wings are a gift from my Angel to yours. I rely solely on donations to keep the Boutique going. I find tremendous comfort in knowing that Nicholas’ legacy lives on, especially through the wings.
Having said all that….I’d like to leave you with a quote by Maya Angelou….. one that inspires me every day.
"When great souls die, our reality, bound to them, takes leave of us. Our minds formed and informed by their radiance, fall away.....And when great souls die, after a period, peace blooms, slowly and always irregularly. Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. They existed.... We can be. Be and be better. For they existed”.
Remember, our Angels are never too far away. They are in the whispers of the wind, the first spring bloom of the season.. the fluffy, white snowflakes that melt on our nose..they are in the crimson sunsets and marshmallow clouds…they are flying on butterfly wings and they are in the ladybug that lands and decides to stay for a while. Where ever you choose to “see” your Angel is the perfect spot… embrace those moments… there are always more to come.
Love and strength to you all. Peaceful healing…
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