Where we are at.......

We are 3 years, 6 months and 18 days along on our journey.

Or

1295 days

Or

31,080 hours

Wow. We have survived 31,080 hours of this journey? Impossible to believe. Even more impossible to swallow.

In the past 3 1/2 years we have experienced such a roller coaster of emotions. Deep, unimaginable grief, inexplicable love, heart wrenching guilt and immeasurable joy. This journey has transformed us. It has beaten us down time and time again.... and yet, we still stand. I dare say that we even stand with pride. Proud of the fact that we have weathered this storm. Proud of the fact that we will continue to do, together.

I think of him every day. I smell him. I feel him. I long for him. As Nicholas' mommy, that will never change. But I also feel like our grief has morphed into something much more positive. I have found solace and strength in helping others who walk this horrendous path. I yearn to do more. To offer support and complete understanding in such a devastating and life altering time. I crave the connection... to share our story in hopes it may make someone else's a little less raw. I wish to alleviate some pain. To let others know that I have walked and wept this road. To let them know they are not alone.

There are still days when my heart is heavy. I take these days as a sign to take a breather. To slow down. To feel. To remember. I suspect there will always be "down" days. Days when the burden feels like too much to handle. But there are also beautiful days. Like when I get a note from someone to say thank you for their baby's Angel Wings..... that makes my heart feel content. Nicholas' memory lives on.

An old (unpublished) post

Funny - I just came across this post from this time last year.... for whatever reason I didn't post it... didn't even finish it I don't think. Anyway, thought it warranted a "publish".

PS. I still didn't finish it.....





From May 2011


I just finished giving the house a good clean. Feels good. Smells good. Looks good.... until the onslaught comes home after school, that is.

While I was dusting, I held Nicholas' tiny, blue, heart shaped urn in my hands, as I always do. I wiped it off. Made it shiny. Cradled it a few moments... gave it a kiss. I then set it back down, beside his picture, beside his perfect, little footprints.

There was a time when I couldn't do it. I couldn't even look at that tiny, blue heart without feeling the lump rise into my throat. There was a time when just catching a glimpse of it would make my tummy do flip flops and my body cringe. I remember when we first brought Nicholas home. The funeral home had his ashes delicately wrapped in a green, velour bag. It reminded of one of those fancy gift bags you get from the liquor store to protect an expensive bottle of scotch. For weeks I couldn't bring myself to even touch the bag. It took many, many weeks before I could bring myself to reach in that bag and pull my son out.

I'm not sure what I was afraid of. Maybe it was the finality of at last having his ashes home. For some, I've heard that touching the urn and having it close is a comfort.... I couldn't do it. As much as I wanted him home with us... I wanted to remember holding his beautiful, little body, not a cold piece of ceramic. The thought of physically seeing and coming to the realization that his perfect body now fit into a container the size of a ring box almost choked the life out of me.

Memorial

Last evening was the Annual Memorial for our babies at our local hospital. I have been involved since it's inception 3 years ago by providing hand crafted Angel Wings, being the guest speaker last year and providing more Angel Wings and Comfort Boxes this year. What a remarkable evening. Beautiful and comforting. A delicate combination of overwhelming emotion and deep gratitude to be involved in such a meaningful event. One of my best girlfriends and baby loss mom spoke at the ceremony and was brilliant. The tears flowed freely onto my cheeks as I listened to her story. I have heard the story of her precious baby girl a million times, but last night was different. Last night was dedicated to her. Last night I could feel our babies presence much more closely. Almost palpable as we listened and reflected as the singers sang "On Angels Wings". One of the most profound moments for me was when the hostess invited everyone to approach the front of the room and take a pair of Angel Wings. It took a few moments before anyone got the courage to do so. The first gentleman walked slowly towards the wings, head down, somber and shaken. He carefully took a pair and cradled them in his hands.... just as you would cradle a newborn baby. A heartfelt moment that maybe I only saw. Then, one by one, the others approached and I was overwhelmed with such deep and raw emotion and sadness for these parents who are now walking this dreaded path. My heart was both weary and soothed by knowing that I can give back in some small way. That Nicholas' legacy supersedes us and it lives on. If anyone from last evenings ceremony is reading here and would like to contact me, please feel free to do so at: lcreeves3@hotmail.com

Ache

Feeling extra emotional today for some reason. More sensitive and a little more anxious. It's hard to explain why some days are more difficult than others. It's hard to explain the hole I feel in my heart when my heart is so full. I am feeling an extra tug towards you today, my boy. The tears are on the verge of spilling and the lump in my throat is ever present. It's nothing imparticular. Just a bump in the road as we travel along. Just a pause. A reflection. A flicker in this journey. I can literally feel you in my arms. I can smell you. I ache for you today.

Your Garden

Hey Bud, Your garden looks so lovely. The miniature daffodils we planted in the fall are beginning to bloom. The baby hostas are beginning to poke through the soil. The baby's breath is green in anticipation. Ironic, isn't it? Such precious new life emerging while yours will forever stand still. It's still so hard to accept that concept.... Missing and loving you always, Nicholas. PS. Thank you for helping your daddy and brothers put the dock in the lake over the weekend.... (tiny, red, ladybug nestled in the crack of the dock)

The Funeral Home

The tears don't come quite as freely anymore. That is not to say that I don't miss our son deeply and think of him every single day. It just means that the pain has softened. The edges of grief that used to rip through my soul have become dull and I believe that I now feel hope in my days, more than desperation and anxiety. Having said that, this weekend presented itself to be unbearably tough once again. Another step in this horrendous journey of grieving our son. A very close friend and neighbour of our family passed away. The funeral was held at the same funeral home where we last saw and held Nicholas. How was I going to walk into that building? How was I going to walk that same path... the path I walked just 3 short years ago leading me to my dead son? The days leading to the funeral were laden with anxiety, nightmares, fear and a fresh feeling of gut wrenching grief. The day itself brought tears and sobs and many, many memories. I imagined my perfect baby boy laying silently in the tiny white box. I remembered literally collapsing at his side and screaming in desperation. I remembered his perfect, little face... so quiet... so still. I remembered his Papa meeting and holding his grandson for the first and last time and the conflict of pride and anguish he showed in his eyes. I remembered having to chose a container for his remains and how incredibly unfair it was to ask a parent to imagine their child being turned into ashes.... I remembered not wanting to see Nicholas again and I remembered the instinctual pull I felt when I knew he was near. I remembered the doors opening and walking into that large room and I remembered seeing my son at the alter. I remembered the agony of hoping beyond hope that things were different. I remembered leaving the funeral home in the arms of my husband and father and not knowing how to breathe again. I am glad that I went. I am thankful for the opportunity to remember and honour a dear friend and amazing man. I am grateful for getting through it, somewhat gracefully. And I am thankful that Nicholas was extra close that day... he always seems to give me the strength to fight through those seemingly impossible situations.

Easter 2012