Escaping Hearts

The following post is inspired by a very close neighbour/friend of ours who watched her 4 year old son get on the school bus for the very first time last week. What she said as the bus pulled away with all of those tiny, smiling faces waving back, has been echoing in my head ever since.

We both stood in tears at that bus stop as my oldest son took her son's hand and walked him up those big steps to what would be his first day of Junior Kindergarten. As the bus pulled away, this neighbour/friend looked at me with tears in her eyes and said "and there goes your heart... on the bus."

I have been thinking about how so very true that statement is. There are so many times in our life where our heart is seemingly ripped from our chest and then neatly (or not so neatly) tucked back in again. Our children are our hearts. They represent such an important part of us that those kinds of moments and milestone leave our hearts reeling on the sidelines.

My husband and I have experienced so many of those moments with our two oldest children. When they first locked eyes with us, when they flashed that first smile, when they started to walk and talk, when they began school. There are so many firsts, firsts that will just continue to cause our hearts to beat out of our chest.

Saying goodbye to Nicholas gives "and there goes your heart" a drastically different meaning. Handing him over to the nurse after our precious time with him was nothing short of unbearable. How the Human Spirit can survive something like that is beyond the imagination. My heart went out our hospital room door that day, in the arms of a loving, caring stranger, but, nonetheless, a stranger. He was no longer in his mommy and daddy's arms where he belonged. No longer safe. No longer alive on this earth with us. I honestly believe that my heart literally left my body that day, with my son, with all of the hopes and dreams we had for him.

Of course my heart was found again. Not all of it. So much of my love, my protection, my pride went with Nicholas that special day. But some of it was found. Some of it was tucked (not so neatly) back into my chest. How could it not be? That is where I carry my precious boy with me... forever and a day.

The Magnitude of Our Grief

Devon had this excerpt on her blog today. It is from one of her support group meetings. I think it speaks volumes.

xo

"I want you to try to imagine the worst thing in the world - that your beloved child died. Now imagine that every single thing that used to give you joy and pleasure turns into hurt and despair overnight. Not a gradual thing but going from pleasure to hurt, from happiness to sadness, from peace to no peace, changing overnight. Everything you loved now hurts like hell.

A part of you does not exist anymore and it is scary as hell. That is why they say the loss of a child is like no other loss. You cannot compare it to another loss. With other losses you grieve and you are of course sad but when your child dies...a part of you ceases to exist. It's gone, just like that. No warning. Just gone. And the life that you knew, the things you always felt, the things in your life that made sense, that you held on to, that make up who you are - are gone!

That is why when parents who have lost children hear, "I want the old you back," "It's been a year, don't you feel better yet?," You are doing this to yourself, you're making it harder on yourself," "Grief can become a selfish thing you know." we can only shake our and heads and feel sadness and hopelessness because there is no way our lives will ever be like it was when our child was alive. No wonder bereaved parents isolate themselves. We are just trying to hold on.

Please do not tell me how I should feel or that I am holding on to this or that my family/friends must be tired of watching me go through this because if you haven't lost a beloved child of yours, you haven't got a clue. Now when you hear these word, "The presence of his absence is everywhere" will you finally understand?"

~ The Grief Blog, Louise and Diana

How To Help Parents Grieving Their Children

Kara at Kota Press has a lot of helpful things to say about how to help/support bereaved parents cope with the loss of a child.

Take a look....

xo

Thoughts...

I have been reading snippets of a book called "A Blessing in Disguise" by Andrea Joy Cohen MD. My Aunt gave me this book a little while ago when she came to visit. I have come across a few insights that I would like to share;

"When a cloud is about to become rain, if the cloud knows it is not going to die, it is going to be transformed into rain, then it would not be afraid at all. To be a cloud in the sky is very beautiful. But to be the rain, falling on the grass, is also very beautiful. And with that kind of knowledge, a cloud is not afraid of dying. I t is impossible for a cloud to die. A cloud can only become the rain, the snow, or the ice. A cloud can never die, and become nothing."

There was something about the simplicity of this thought that touched me deeply. To think that our babies are always here. Not physically, but in other forms. Whether that be in the form of a butterfly, the wind on your cheek or in the laughter of other children... our babies are with us. Deep within us. We just have to learn how to recognize them.

Another excerpt:

"In our mind we think that to 'be born' means that from no one, you suddenly become someone. That is the moment that you call birth. If you were born on Feb 1 2000, and you think that before that moment you did not exist, you are wrong. You were already in the womb of you mother before that. That day of you birth is only the day that you were out, here on the earth. So to say that you did not exist before that date, that is incorrect. Before that moment, you had been there, inside of your mother; she had carried you for many months and during those months we cannot say that you did not exist. You already existed before your birth date. You were the object of love of your mommy and your daddy. That is why you have to put the date back several months."

.... we all feel this. It's just nice to read it too.

Hope you all find these thought provoking also.

Love to you all.. xxx

I love him

My head is swimming. Swimming with so many thoughts, so much grief, so much pain.... I can't seem to make sense of it. I sit here trying to put into words, trying to articulate the feelings that are bubbling inside and feel a bit lost. But here it goes. It may be a bit messy.

This past weekend was a holiday here in Canada - Victoria Day - the "unofficial" kick off to summer. We headed up to our family cottage on Saturday and set to work (and play). There is always so much preparation to be done in the hopes to relax on the beautiful days of summer. The weather wasn't great (cold and very windy) but that didn't stop the boys from helping daddy and papa. I couldn't help but think of what could have been. If we lived in a perfect world I would have been introducing Nicholas to cottage life. To the place where his mommy and daddy met. The place we got married. The place we have enjoyed so many happy memories. Instead, we are thinking about burying his ashes on the property. I constantly struggle with why any parent should have to think about such a horrendous thing. Why babies die. And I know all too well that babies do die. Way more than is even comprehensible.

Our beautiful boy would be learning to sit up, he would be rolling over, he would be starting his rice cereal. All of these things are constant thoughts in my head, but they are most definitely brought to the forefront when my baby niece comes to visit. My niece was born just 4 1/2 weeks after we lost Nicholas. She was born 5 weeks early and we often say that Nicholas was her guardian angel that day because she D pulled through and is now a thriving, beautiful little girl.

I hate, hate, hate to admit that I cringe when I hear my parents get so excited when they know she is coming for a visit. It's like, "clear the deck, here comes the baby in the family." Another little piece of my heart is shattered when I realize that she is the only baby in the family. There were so many plans for Nicholas and D to grow up together. So many plans that are now only in the stars.

D was rolling over on the weekend. One of the major milestones. Everyone was laughing and cheering her on, except for me, I was busy crying and feeling sorry for myself and my sweet boy in the bathroom. He would be rolling over too. In fact, he would be showing her how it's done.

And then I think, no, actually, in all likelihood he would not have made any of those milestones. He most likely would not have lived through the birth experience because of the abnormality he was faced with - and this makes me even more sad - even more defensive - and even more crazy with pain.

The 'why's' are the absolute worst. They are my worst enemy, my worst nightmare come true.

A neighbour dropped the cottage on the weekend and we were all catching up on the latest gossip and news from the winter. "Sure was a long winter, it's nice to finally be back up here"..... Oh yes, the winter was long, agonizing, torture... Hell actually. This woman went on about how her SIL lost his family business and has been suffering from the affects of stress, blah, blah, blah. Now, I agree, that is a life-altering event in one's life, but I hardly relate it to birthing your dead son, holding him, loving him and saying goodbye to him all at once. Now, this woman is elderly, but she does know of our situation. I am so utterly amazed at how people handle the unimaginable... like not mentioning my baby will be much better for all involved... NOT. She actually asked me what I was doing for excitement these days.... WHAT? I answered politely, "we have enough "excitement" in our lives at the moment" and left it at that.

Am I super sensitive? Yes. Am I okay with that? Yes. Do I want people to acknowledge Nicholas as a person and as a part of our family? Yes. Do I love my baby Angel desperately? Yes, dammit!

Well, I think that will conclude my rant for today.... stay tuned.

An Angel Never Dies

Hi Everyone.

I have so much to say... so much whirling around in my head... I just can't seem to get it all out... eloquently anyway. Soon, I promise. But for now, I came across this poem on one of the blogs (I can't remember where - sorry!).

I found it very touching.


An Angel Never Dies - author unknown

Don’t let them say I wasn’t born,
That something stopped my heart,

I felt each tender squeeze you gave,
I loved you from the start.

Although my body you can’t hold,
It doesn’t mean I’m gone,

This world was worthy not of me,
God chose that I move on,

I know the pain that drowns your soul,
What you are forced to face,

You have my word, I’ll fill your arms, Someday we will embrace.

You’ll hear that it was “meant to be,
God doesn’t make mistakes”

But that won’t soften your worst blow
Or make your heart not ache.

I’m watching over all you do,
Another child you’ll bear,

Believe me when I say to you,
That I am always there.

There will come a time, I promise you,
When you will hold my hand,

Stroke my face and kiss my lips and
Then you’ll understand.

Although I never breathed your air,
Or gazed into your eyes,

That doesn’t mean I never “was”…
An Angel Never Dies.

10 Things

Kristi at Healing, Dealing, Dreaming has a list on her blog titled "20 Things Parents of Angels Wish You Would Remember". What a fabulous idea. She is my inspiration for the below list.



10 Things Others Can Do When Supporting A Grieving Parent

1. Acknowledge my baby, please. Don't be afraid to mention his name.

2. If you don't know what to say... say "I don't know what to say". It's much better than ignoring the situation altogether.

3. Please don't judge me. This journey is new and horrifying for me. I am still learning my way.

4. Although we have "better" days now, please don't think that I am "over" it. Truth is, I will never be "over" losing Nicholas.

5. Please don't ignore me. By choosing to stay away from me I feel isolated or that I'm no longer worthy of your friendship.

6. Please don't feel awkward or uncomfortable talking about Nicholas with me. Truth is, it's not fair to make me feel uncomfortable just because you are - I borrowed that from Kristi - so true.

7. Please don't forget our Nicholas. Just because the months go on doesn't mean he deserves to be forgotten. I think of him and love him every single day and am extremely protective of his memory.

8. Please understand that seeing and talking about newborns is horribly painful for me right now - I see Nicholas in them all.

9. Please understand that holidays and anniversaries are especially tough for us. A "thinking of you" is so appreciated.

10. I reiterate - Acknowledge my baby, please. Don't be afraid to mention his name. Nicholas is a part of us and always will be.