The day my child died, I fell into the pit of grief. My friends watched me struggle through daily life, waiting for the person I once was to arise from the pit, not realizing "she" is gone forever.
The pit is full of darkness, heartache and despair, it paralyzes your thoughts, movements and ability to ration. The pit leaves you forever changed, unable to surface the person you once were.
Some of my pre-grief friends gather around the top of the pit, waiting for the old me to appear before their eyes, not understanding what’s taking me so long to emerge. After all, in their eyes, I've been in the pit for quite sometime. Yet in my eyes, it seems as if I fell in only yesterday.
Not all of my pre-grief friends are gathered around the top of the pit. Some are helping me with the climb out of the darkness. They climb side by side with me from time to time, but mostly they climb ahead of me, waiting patiently at each plateau. Even with these friends I sometimes wonder if they are also waiting for the pre-grief me to magically appear before their eyes.
Then there are the casual acquaintances, you know the ones who say, "Hi, how are you?" when they really don't care or really want to know. These are the people who sigh in relief, that it is my child who died and not theirs. You know...the "better them, than me" attitude.
My post-grief friends (and a rare pre-grief friend) are the ones who climb with me, side by side, inch by inch, out of the pit with me. They are able to reassure me when I need reassurance, rest when I need resting, and encourage me to move forward when I don't have the strength. They have no expectations, no memories and no recollection of how I "should" be. They want me to get better, to smile more often and find joy in life, but they also accepted the person I've become. The "person" who is emerging from the pit.
Author Unknown
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Sunday, July 9, 2006
A poem from mommy
a little something I wrote.
Sometimes........
Sometimes I am scared, scared that I will lose again, scared that my memories will slip away.
Sometimes I am angry, angry that such a beautiful person was taken too soon, angry that I didn't get to watch you grow up.
Sometimes I am grateful, grateful that we had those weeks with you, even though we couldn't hold you, you were there within our grasp showing us wonders that we had not yet been worthy to experience.
Sometimes I am sad, sad because I miss you so much my heart hurts.
Sometimes I am guilty, guilty because I might have been able to change things if I had only known
Sometimes I am happy, remembering how your strength and spirit filled the room, seeing you do it your way regardless of the "rules".
Sometimes I cry, I cry tears of sadness, I cry tears of heartbreak, and every now and then I cry tears of gratitude.
Sometimes I hope. I hope that I was a good mother to you even though the obstacles made it difficult for me to be a proper mother. I also hope that I can be half the person you were.
There are a lot of "sometimes". But there is one "always" and that is...... Always I will love you.
I know that time in heaven goes so fast, by the time you turn around to see if I am there with you, I will be. You feel no pain, you feel no fear. When I look up at the night sky and see that one brightest star, I imagine you sitting on it looking down on us and giving us your strength that we can go on without you. I may never understand, but at least I can wake up each morning knowing that nothing can ever take you from my heart.
I love you Alex, and I misse you terribly. For once in my life I'm not afraid to die, when it's my time someday I know that I will forever be with you again.
Sometimes........
Sometimes I am scared, scared that I will lose again, scared that my memories will slip away.
Sometimes I am angry, angry that such a beautiful person was taken too soon, angry that I didn't get to watch you grow up.
Sometimes I am grateful, grateful that we had those weeks with you, even though we couldn't hold you, you were there within our grasp showing us wonders that we had not yet been worthy to experience.
Sometimes I am sad, sad because I miss you so much my heart hurts.
Sometimes I am guilty, guilty because I might have been able to change things if I had only known
Sometimes I am happy, remembering how your strength and spirit filled the room, seeing you do it your way regardless of the "rules".
Sometimes I cry, I cry tears of sadness, I cry tears of heartbreak, and every now and then I cry tears of gratitude.
Sometimes I hope. I hope that I was a good mother to you even though the obstacles made it difficult for me to be a proper mother. I also hope that I can be half the person you were.
There are a lot of "sometimes". But there is one "always" and that is...... Always I will love you.
I know that time in heaven goes so fast, by the time you turn around to see if I am there with you, I will be. You feel no pain, you feel no fear. When I look up at the night sky and see that one brightest star, I imagine you sitting on it looking down on us and giving us your strength that we can go on without you. I may never understand, but at least I can wake up each morning knowing that nothing can ever take you from my heart.
I love you Alex, and I misse you terribly. For once in my life I'm not afraid to die, when it's my time someday I know that I will forever be with you again.
Friday, April 28, 2006
All I have
Today was an especially hard day. 3 months old. You would be laughing, learning to roll over, preffering my face to any other, reaching out to play with your toys..... The visions of this that I get in my head are beautiful and so painful at the same time.
Every day, in everything I do I think of you. When I wake up in the morning I feel like I should be doing something and then it hits me....... I should be getting you out of bed and feeding and changing you, excited to start our day together. I remember when the other kids were little, just waking up every morning and being glad that it was finally morning........ now I wake up every morning and feel sad that I have to live yet another day without you.
Today daddy and I were very sad and we opened your box. The box sits on our headboard and seems to only get opened when we are feeling especially sad and you know it only makes us sadder. Everything that was connected to you is in that box:
your footprints from the hospital,
your booties, both the blue baseball ones that the nurses loved so much because they fit on your swollen little feet so well and the jingly horsey ones that were on your feet the day you left us, that still have blood on them from when nurse Kelsa made them messy a couple of days before.
The invitations to your 'birthday party' we had for you the first day
Your hospital bracelet taped to the disk that has your first echocardiogram images on it.
Your lock of hair, crib card, the pacifier the nice nurse at Marshfield gave you. So many things that in a perfect world would hold some sentimental value, but in our world they are our most valuable posessions. The one thing we don't have is your hat. The hat that your nurse searched high and low for because your sweet head was too tiny for the regular baby hats..... yours had to be special. We never got your hat from the hospital.
We miss you so very much. Daddy said to me today that he was scared to have another child because he was afraid that you would think we were trying to replace you. I told him that we all know, you included that no one in the universe could ever replace you.....
I hope you are having fun in heaven. I take comfort in the fact that you will never have to experience the pain that we feel, your new perfect body will always be young and healthy and you will never feel any pain again, only joy basking in God's light. I can't wait until the day that I can be with you again I dream of it a lot when the nights get quiet and I can't sleep. I envision me going to heaven and seeing you and scooping you up in my arms and holding you tight for an eternity.
Sweet bubba, I hope you know how much we loved you in life and how much we will always love you. I hope that all those long days in that hospital bed you felt that. I hope we made the right decisions for you, we made them out of our love. Until we meet again.........
____________________________________________
I'm not sure if I've shared this poem before or not, but it is one that the 'poetry therapist' (which I thought was kind of a hokey profession and she cried more than I did the poor soul) brought and read to me the day before Alex's surgery and it does a good job at explaining things
But not Today
-Brenda Neal
Sometimes
I can let go of the past,
a past locked behind the doors
of painful memories.
But not today.
Sometimes
I can accept the reality
that is me
and the journey headlong
into the unknown.
But not today.
Today change comes hard.
I wear my feelings on my sleeve,
and nothing seems right.
Sometimes
I feel I can
weather anything
tackle anything
do anything
But not today.
Every day, in everything I do I think of you. When I wake up in the morning I feel like I should be doing something and then it hits me....... I should be getting you out of bed and feeding and changing you, excited to start our day together. I remember when the other kids were little, just waking up every morning and being glad that it was finally morning........ now I wake up every morning and feel sad that I have to live yet another day without you.
Today daddy and I were very sad and we opened your box. The box sits on our headboard and seems to only get opened when we are feeling especially sad and you know it only makes us sadder. Everything that was connected to you is in that box:
your footprints from the hospital,
your booties, both the blue baseball ones that the nurses loved so much because they fit on your swollen little feet so well and the jingly horsey ones that were on your feet the day you left us, that still have blood on them from when nurse Kelsa made them messy a couple of days before.
The invitations to your 'birthday party' we had for you the first day
Your hospital bracelet taped to the disk that has your first echocardiogram images on it.
Your lock of hair, crib card, the pacifier the nice nurse at Marshfield gave you. So many things that in a perfect world would hold some sentimental value, but in our world they are our most valuable posessions. The one thing we don't have is your hat. The hat that your nurse searched high and low for because your sweet head was too tiny for the regular baby hats..... yours had to be special. We never got your hat from the hospital.
We miss you so very much. Daddy said to me today that he was scared to have another child because he was afraid that you would think we were trying to replace you. I told him that we all know, you included that no one in the universe could ever replace you.....
I hope you are having fun in heaven. I take comfort in the fact that you will never have to experience the pain that we feel, your new perfect body will always be young and healthy and you will never feel any pain again, only joy basking in God's light. I can't wait until the day that I can be with you again I dream of it a lot when the nights get quiet and I can't sleep. I envision me going to heaven and seeing you and scooping you up in my arms and holding you tight for an eternity.
Sweet bubba, I hope you know how much we loved you in life and how much we will always love you. I hope that all those long days in that hospital bed you felt that. I hope we made the right decisions for you, we made them out of our love. Until we meet again.........
____________________________________________
I'm not sure if I've shared this poem before or not, but it is one that the 'poetry therapist' (which I thought was kind of a hokey profession and she cried more than I did the poor soul) brought and read to me the day before Alex's surgery and it does a good job at explaining things
But not Today
-Brenda Neal
Sometimes
I can let go of the past,
a past locked behind the doors
of painful memories.
But not today.
Sometimes
I can accept the reality
that is me
and the journey headlong
into the unknown.
But not today.
Today change comes hard.
I wear my feelings on my sleeve,
and nothing seems right.
Sometimes
I feel I can
weather anything
tackle anything
do anything
But not today.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
I haven't updated in a bit. I got a phone call from Alex's girlfriend in heaven, Gracie's mom yesterday. It was so nice to talk to her. It's nice sometimes just to be able to talk to people who have been there and ARE there themselves.
I'm still throwing myself into making the bears for kids with CHD. It's a nice way to pass the time and I can't wait until I get enough done to actually send them out. Again, if anyone has any nice stuffed bears laying around, please let me know. You can see some of the ones i've finished at http://profiles.yahoo.com/kat_maid_to_ahcsj not sure how long i'll have the pic on there.
Somethign to share:
Bereaved Parents Wish List
I wish my child hadn't died. I wish I had him back.
I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak my child's name. My child lived and was very important to me. I need to hear that he was important to you also.
If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn't because you have hurt me. My child's death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my child and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.
Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you now more than ever.
I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you, but I also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you
would let me talk about my child; my favorite topic of the day.
I know that you think of and pray for me often. I also know that my child's death pains you too. I wish you would let me know these things through a phone call, a card or note, or a real big hug.
I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over. These first years are traumatic for me, but I wish you could understand that my grief
will never be over. I will suffer the death of my child until the day I die.
I am working hard in my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss my child and I will always grieve that he is dead.
I wish you wouldn't expect me 'not to think about it' or 'be happy'. Neither will happen for a very long time, so don't frustrate yourself.
I don't want to have a 'Pity party', but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.
I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I'm feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.
When I say, 'I'm doing okay', I wish you could understand that I don't 'feel' okay and that I struggle daily.
I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having are very normal. Depression, anger, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are
all to be expected. So please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.
Your advice to 'take it one day at a time' is excellent advice.
However, a day is too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that I'm doing good to handle an hour at a time.
Please excuse me if I seem rude, certainly not my intent. Sometimes the world around me goes too fast and I need to get off. When I walk away, I wish you would let me find a quiet place to spend time alone.
I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my child died, a big part of me died with him. I am not the same person I was before my child died and I will never be that person again.
I wish very much that you could understand ~ understand my loss and my grief. But, I pray daily that you will never understand.
--Poem from Compassionate Friends
I'm still throwing myself into making the bears for kids with CHD. It's a nice way to pass the time and I can't wait until I get enough done to actually send them out. Again, if anyone has any nice stuffed bears laying around, please let me know. You can see some of the ones i've finished at http://profiles.yahoo.com/kat_maid_to_ahcsj not sure how long i'll have the pic on there.
Somethign to share:
Bereaved Parents Wish List
I wish my child hadn't died. I wish I had him back.
I wish you wouldn't be afraid to speak my child's name. My child lived and was very important to me. I need to hear that he was important to you also.
If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn't because you have hurt me. My child's death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my child and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.
Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't shy away from me. I need you now more than ever.
I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you, but I also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you
would let me talk about my child; my favorite topic of the day.
I know that you think of and pray for me often. I also know that my child's death pains you too. I wish you would let me know these things through a phone call, a card or note, or a real big hug.
I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over. These first years are traumatic for me, but I wish you could understand that my grief
will never be over. I will suffer the death of my child until the day I die.
I am working hard in my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss my child and I will always grieve that he is dead.
I wish you wouldn't expect me 'not to think about it' or 'be happy'. Neither will happen for a very long time, so don't frustrate yourself.
I don't want to have a 'Pity party', but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.
I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I'm feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.
When I say, 'I'm doing okay', I wish you could understand that I don't 'feel' okay and that I struggle daily.
I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I'm having are very normal. Depression, anger, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are
all to be expected. So please excuse me when I'm quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.
Your advice to 'take it one day at a time' is excellent advice.
However, a day is too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that I'm doing good to handle an hour at a time.
Please excuse me if I seem rude, certainly not my intent. Sometimes the world around me goes too fast and I need to get off. When I walk away, I wish you would let me find a quiet place to spend time alone.
I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my child died, a big part of me died with him. I am not the same person I was before my child died and I will never be that person again.
I wish very much that you could understand ~ understand my loss and my grief. But, I pray daily that you will never understand.
--Poem from Compassionate Friends
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
I don't understand!
For some reason today has been a very hard day. I am finding it very difficult to find my 'happy place'. Easter is coming, not only is it the first 'real' holiday we planned to spend with our sweet baby boy, but it is also our first goal 'home date' in the hospital, then when we realized it probably wouldn't happen, we were rooting for Mothers day. So Easter is going to suck this year because of that and to top it off it falls on the 16th and marks the 1 month anniversary of losing Alex. I just don't want to do anything anymore.
People try to get me out of the house. My mom wants us to go to Minneapolis on Friday, which is her birthday to take the kids to Chuck E Cheese and have a nice day out. I don't want to go, we had planned to take the kids to Chuck E Cheese on our way home from the hospital on the wonderful day when Alex would finally be sent home from the hospital and that didn't happen.
People think i need to get out of my house. My house is my safe place. I dont' have to see babies, pregnant women, any of it in my house. I can cry without being gawked at, and i'm not 'the woman who lost her baby'.
I find myself feeling very bitter today. I'm mad at God. I try to tell myself that God took Alex home and ended his suffering, but then on these hard days I think that's a bunch of bull, God preforms miracles every single day and he didn't. Why didn't Alex deserve a miracle? Why are prisons full of people that do awful things and yet for some reason Alex, an innocent child's life was taken from him before he had a chance to live it. It makes me so angry. Instead he felt pain every day of his life, for nothing. To have it end anyway.
I'm sure eventually I'll find my way back to my happy place for a while. But not today.....
God, Take This Child....
By Nancy Scott
Sweet child whom we never really got to know,
It’s hard for us to let you go.
We waited and we wanted you.
We had so many dreams for you.
We think of smiles we'll never see.
We think of events that will never be.
There will be no first steps and no first teeth.
There is only a void and our own grief.
We planned to take you to places far and near.
We yearned to keep you safe and free from fear.
We hoped to show you much of your new world.
We wanted to teach you as your life unfurled.
It’s hard to understand why you, our baby, died.
We feel so numb right now, many tears we’ve cried.
We have so many questions and no answers seem to come.
We tried so hard to save you; nothing could be done.
God, we stand before you broken-hearted
and ask you to heal these lives that must be parted
from this little one we can no longer hold,
who will always be a part of us, even when we're old.)
God, take this child in your loving arms.
No more can he suffer any harm.
Bless him always and bless us too.
Be with us and help us to make it through.
People try to get me out of the house. My mom wants us to go to Minneapolis on Friday, which is her birthday to take the kids to Chuck E Cheese and have a nice day out. I don't want to go, we had planned to take the kids to Chuck E Cheese on our way home from the hospital on the wonderful day when Alex would finally be sent home from the hospital and that didn't happen.
People think i need to get out of my house. My house is my safe place. I dont' have to see babies, pregnant women, any of it in my house. I can cry without being gawked at, and i'm not 'the woman who lost her baby'.
I find myself feeling very bitter today. I'm mad at God. I try to tell myself that God took Alex home and ended his suffering, but then on these hard days I think that's a bunch of bull, God preforms miracles every single day and he didn't. Why didn't Alex deserve a miracle? Why are prisons full of people that do awful things and yet for some reason Alex, an innocent child's life was taken from him before he had a chance to live it. It makes me so angry. Instead he felt pain every day of his life, for nothing. To have it end anyway.
I'm sure eventually I'll find my way back to my happy place for a while. But not today.....
God, Take This Child....
By Nancy Scott
Sweet child whom we never really got to know,
It’s hard for us to let you go.
We waited and we wanted you.
We had so many dreams for you.
We think of smiles we'll never see.
We think of events that will never be.
There will be no first steps and no first teeth.
There is only a void and our own grief.
We planned to take you to places far and near.
We yearned to keep you safe and free from fear.
We hoped to show you much of your new world.
We wanted to teach you as your life unfurled.
It’s hard to understand why you, our baby, died.
We feel so numb right now, many tears we’ve cried.
We have so many questions and no answers seem to come.
We tried so hard to save you; nothing could be done.
God, we stand before you broken-hearted
and ask you to heal these lives that must be parted
from this little one we can no longer hold,
who will always be a part of us, even when we're old.)
God, take this child in your loving arms.
No more can he suffer any harm.
Bless him always and bless us too.
Be with us and help us to make it through.
Saturday, April 8, 2006
He's gone. He's really gone?!
I know, i haven't updated in a long time. Just trying to be normal. I don't feel like I have anything positive to say and I don't like to be depressing everyone.
They say this gets easier. I'm not sure who 'they' are, but that it gets easier doesn't help me NOW. I'm dealing with today, today.
I'm frustrated because people don't know how to react to me, and I don't know how to react back. I hate it when people try to avoid the subject because I love to talk about my son and quite honestly, not much else at this point in my life is worth talking about. Don't avoid me because you dont' know what to say. Ask me about him, about his life, even about his death..... but dont' act like he was never here.
I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this is it, Alex is never ever coming back. His little body will be in the ground, in that cemetary forever. I will never again hold him, see him, none of it. How can something so wonderful just be gone just like that? In the blink of an eye it seems?
I'm really trying to be normal. Trying to appreciate what I have. I find myself short tempered with the kids and I hate that. It's not them i'm mad at, i'm not mad at anybody. They are hurting and dealing too and I'm not making it any easier for them and that sucks. This is a huge turning point in thier lives and my response to them can make it or break it, how's that for pressure?
It seems Jack must be reminded daily that Alex isn't coming back. Everytime he sees anything relating to a baby he will say 'that's for baby Alex, baby Alex in the hostible' and I'll say 'no Jack, baby Alex isn't in the hospital, he's in heaven, up above the clouds with Jesus' and he'll say 'baby alex get better and open his eyes' and I have to say 'no jack, baby Alex can't get better, he's gone forever and ever' Every day we have this conversation. I don't want him to forget Alex, but it just hurts me to have to say those words over and over again. Almost like I'm not only telling him, but myself as well. It's really emotionally draining.
I know I should go to counseling, we all should. But I have yet to make the appointment because I'm afraid. I'm afraid because I don't care how many years of schooling you've had, you DON'T understand and I'm afraid that I woudl be completely unreceptive to them because I would always be thinking that. Always be bitter about it.
I got on the scale for the first time the other day and realized that I have lost exactly 23 pounds, I gained exactly 23 lbs during my pregnancy. I had this though that it's like it never happened! Yet it did, and I don't have anything but pictures and memories to prove it.
Here's a poem I like
My parents, they tell a lot of lies
they never did before.
From now until they die,
they'll tell a whole lot more.
Ask my parents how they are
and because they can't explain,
They will tell a little lie
because they can't describe the pain.
Ask my parents how are they,
They'll say, we're alright.
If that's the truth, then I say,
why do they cry each night?
Ask my parents how they be,
they seem to cope so well.
They didn't have a choice you see
nor the strength to yell.
Ask my parents how they are,
We're fine, we're well or we're coping...
For God's sake guys, just tell the truth
just say your heart is broken.
They'll love me all thier life,
I loved them all of mine.
But if you ask them how they are
they'll lie and say they're fine.
I am here in Heaven.
I cannot hug from here.
If they lie to you don't listen,
Hug them and hold them near.
On the day we meet again,
we'll smile and I'll be bold.
I'll say, You're lucky to get in here guys,
with all the lies you told!
They say this gets easier. I'm not sure who 'they' are, but that it gets easier doesn't help me NOW. I'm dealing with today, today.
I'm frustrated because people don't know how to react to me, and I don't know how to react back. I hate it when people try to avoid the subject because I love to talk about my son and quite honestly, not much else at this point in my life is worth talking about. Don't avoid me because you dont' know what to say. Ask me about him, about his life, even about his death..... but dont' act like he was never here.
I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this is it, Alex is never ever coming back. His little body will be in the ground, in that cemetary forever. I will never again hold him, see him, none of it. How can something so wonderful just be gone just like that? In the blink of an eye it seems?
I'm really trying to be normal. Trying to appreciate what I have. I find myself short tempered with the kids and I hate that. It's not them i'm mad at, i'm not mad at anybody. They are hurting and dealing too and I'm not making it any easier for them and that sucks. This is a huge turning point in thier lives and my response to them can make it or break it, how's that for pressure?
It seems Jack must be reminded daily that Alex isn't coming back. Everytime he sees anything relating to a baby he will say 'that's for baby Alex, baby Alex in the hostible' and I'll say 'no Jack, baby Alex isn't in the hospital, he's in heaven, up above the clouds with Jesus' and he'll say 'baby alex get better and open his eyes' and I have to say 'no jack, baby Alex can't get better, he's gone forever and ever' Every day we have this conversation. I don't want him to forget Alex, but it just hurts me to have to say those words over and over again. Almost like I'm not only telling him, but myself as well. It's really emotionally draining.
I know I should go to counseling, we all should. But I have yet to make the appointment because I'm afraid. I'm afraid because I don't care how many years of schooling you've had, you DON'T understand and I'm afraid that I woudl be completely unreceptive to them because I would always be thinking that. Always be bitter about it.
I got on the scale for the first time the other day and realized that I have lost exactly 23 pounds, I gained exactly 23 lbs during my pregnancy. I had this though that it's like it never happened! Yet it did, and I don't have anything but pictures and memories to prove it.
Here's a poem I like
My parents, they tell a lot of lies
they never did before.
From now until they die,
they'll tell a whole lot more.
Ask my parents how they are
and because they can't explain,
They will tell a little lie
because they can't describe the pain.
Ask my parents how are they,
They'll say, we're alright.
If that's the truth, then I say,
why do they cry each night?
Ask my parents how they be,
they seem to cope so well.
They didn't have a choice you see
nor the strength to yell.
Ask my parents how they are,
We're fine, we're well or we're coping...
For God's sake guys, just tell the truth
just say your heart is broken.
They'll love me all thier life,
I loved them all of mine.
But if you ask them how they are
they'll lie and say they're fine.
I am here in Heaven.
I cannot hug from here.
If they lie to you don't listen,
Hug them and hold them near.
On the day we meet again,
we'll smile and I'll be bold.
I'll say, You're lucky to get in here guys,
with all the lies you told!
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Why?
Yesterday was a bad day. They 'why' demon crept up on me and stuck around most of the day. I know I can't give in to they 'why' because there isn't an answer to that question that I can know until the day I see God and Alex in heaven and then i'm not sure it will matter.
I got a wonderful card today from the social worker we worked with at the hospital, it really warms my heart when people say that they could see our love for Alex and I hope that he felt that too. Apparently Alex was her first PICU kid and she said that her experience with him taught her a lot and will always influence the way she deals with families in her work, and the way she is with her own family. It's amazing how many people such a little guy influenced.
I'm still struggling with my feelings, as is probably to be expected. Most of the time I am just so grateful, I'm sad that he died but I'm grateful that he lived. Some of you know that Alex was the result of a successful vasectomy reversal, he was a miracle from the start. Sometimes that makes the WHY demon come out thinking about it, because he was so loved, planned for, and wanted.
I think one of the big things I've learned is that the people in our lives aren't ours to keep, they are on loan for a while, some of them many years and some only minutes, days, or weeks. Appreciate them and let them know how much you do. And take all of the lessons they are here to teach and learn them. And when they are gone, be grateful that you had the opportunity to know them. After all, it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
My Dream
If I could have some fairy dust
To make my dreams come true
I'd take it with me in my sleep
So I could dream of you
I'd dream I were an angel
If only for one day
So I could be in Heaven
Just to spend the day with you
I'd tell you how I loved you so
And miss you oh so much
And how just for a little while
You were mine but not to keep
I'd hold you oh so very close
But then I'd have to go
You see my little Angel
You were my gift but not to kep
I have to say night night now
It's time for me to go
But this feeling in my heart for you
will never go to sleep
I got a wonderful card today from the social worker we worked with at the hospital, it really warms my heart when people say that they could see our love for Alex and I hope that he felt that too. Apparently Alex was her first PICU kid and she said that her experience with him taught her a lot and will always influence the way she deals with families in her work, and the way she is with her own family. It's amazing how many people such a little guy influenced.
I'm still struggling with my feelings, as is probably to be expected. Most of the time I am just so grateful, I'm sad that he died but I'm grateful that he lived. Some of you know that Alex was the result of a successful vasectomy reversal, he was a miracle from the start. Sometimes that makes the WHY demon come out thinking about it, because he was so loved, planned for, and wanted.
I think one of the big things I've learned is that the people in our lives aren't ours to keep, they are on loan for a while, some of them many years and some only minutes, days, or weeks. Appreciate them and let them know how much you do. And take all of the lessons they are here to teach and learn them. And when they are gone, be grateful that you had the opportunity to know them. After all, it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
My Dream
If I could have some fairy dust
To make my dreams come true
I'd take it with me in my sleep
So I could dream of you
I'd dream I were an angel
If only for one day
So I could be in Heaven
Just to spend the day with you
I'd tell you how I loved you so
And miss you oh so much
And how just for a little while
You were mine but not to keep
I'd hold you oh so very close
But then I'd have to go
You see my little Angel
You were my gift but not to kep
I have to say night night now
It's time for me to go
But this feeling in my heart for you
will never go to sleep
Sunday, March 19, 2006
How am I suppose to do this?
I can't figure out how I'm 'suppose' to act or feel. As a mother I think a lot of us think about losing a child, about how that would be and how we would feel but so far I'm just in a fog. Sometimes the emotions come strong and I'm left sitting on the floor sobbing and feeling physical pain in my heart, other times I'm laughing and remembering those long weeks in the hospital.
Today I've been calling everyone a 'bad egg' remembering nurse Lori and how she'd point her finger at Alex and say 'your a bad egg mister'. It made me giggle then and still does. People must think i'm crazy, off my rocker.
I miss Alex, I miss the people at the hospital that we had come to know and feel like I've not only lost a son, but an entire family. I've been running at mach 20 for 7 weeks and now that were home without him there's nothing to do, I feel lost.
Just like always, Craig and I are opposites. He cannot stand to read Alex's guestbook, or look through the things from the hospital. I on the other hand have thrown myself into it all, organizing his things, researching heart defects, posting on message boards.
Even though Alex gave us signs for days that the end was near, and I saw those signs and I think without realizing, prepared myself somewhat; his death still came as such a surprise. It was so fast. It's so hard to beleive that 4 days ago he was here, and then in the blink of an eye he is gone.
I think about the night before he died. I was at the hospital and I spent more time than usual at his bedside ( I tended to spend a few minutes touching him, then sit in the rocker and watch him, and repeat this process over and over) . I touched every part of him that I could through that evening. He seemed so at peace. A little tiny speck in my mind thought something wasn't right. His sats were bouncing around and I thought his fingers looked duskier than normal, his fingernails were a deep purple. It didn't occur to me that the next time I would see him would be to see them doing chest compressions on him.
I feel a lot of guilt. I regret that we didn't bring the video camera to the hospital and videotape every moment of his life. I regret that we didn't take more pictures. I feel guilty that he was born 4 weeks early, maybe if he had those last 4 weeks to grow he would have been stronger and better able to fight. So many things I would have tried to do differently had I only known.
I am grateful for the time we spent. God was so patient with us, waiting until we had learned some valuable lessons before he took Alex home. Alex was so patient with us, hanging on until we were as ready as we ever could have been to deal with this pain. I know 2 months ago we were not strong enough to live through this, Alex made us strong enough.
Yesterday we made funeral arrangements, tomorrow we pick out his stone. It is so surreal. The pastor told me we haven't begun to grieve yet, we are still in shock and that scares me. It scares me because the emotions are so strong, the pain is so raw that I don't know what Ii'll do if it gets worse.
I feel at peace in some ways. When I was running to the hospital that day I knew he was passing. When it happened the pain I felt was so extreme I thought my own heart would stop beating then and there. Then as the day went on I felt this overwhelming sense of releif. Releif that he wasn't huring anymore and I still feel that. I feel him all around me but no longer have to see him hurting, see his wounds and the constant oozing of blood from one site or another. He isn't hurting anymore. All he knew in life was pain and that has finally ceased, I'm grateful for that.
This peom will be on his memorial...
God saw you getting tired
and a cure was not to be
So he put his arms around you
and said 'Alexander come with me'
With tearful eyes we watched
And saw you fade away
Although we love you dearly
We could not make you stay
A special heart stopped beating
Your body it did rest
God broke our hearts to prove to us
He only takes the best
Fly high little bubba, fly high.
Today I've been calling everyone a 'bad egg' remembering nurse Lori and how she'd point her finger at Alex and say 'your a bad egg mister'. It made me giggle then and still does. People must think i'm crazy, off my rocker.
I miss Alex, I miss the people at the hospital that we had come to know and feel like I've not only lost a son, but an entire family. I've been running at mach 20 for 7 weeks and now that were home without him there's nothing to do, I feel lost.
Just like always, Craig and I are opposites. He cannot stand to read Alex's guestbook, or look through the things from the hospital. I on the other hand have thrown myself into it all, organizing his things, researching heart defects, posting on message boards.
Even though Alex gave us signs for days that the end was near, and I saw those signs and I think without realizing, prepared myself somewhat; his death still came as such a surprise. It was so fast. It's so hard to beleive that 4 days ago he was here, and then in the blink of an eye he is gone.
I think about the night before he died. I was at the hospital and I spent more time than usual at his bedside ( I tended to spend a few minutes touching him, then sit in the rocker and watch him, and repeat this process over and over) . I touched every part of him that I could through that evening. He seemed so at peace. A little tiny speck in my mind thought something wasn't right. His sats were bouncing around and I thought his fingers looked duskier than normal, his fingernails were a deep purple. It didn't occur to me that the next time I would see him would be to see them doing chest compressions on him.
I feel a lot of guilt. I regret that we didn't bring the video camera to the hospital and videotape every moment of his life. I regret that we didn't take more pictures. I feel guilty that he was born 4 weeks early, maybe if he had those last 4 weeks to grow he would have been stronger and better able to fight. So many things I would have tried to do differently had I only known.
I am grateful for the time we spent. God was so patient with us, waiting until we had learned some valuable lessons before he took Alex home. Alex was so patient with us, hanging on until we were as ready as we ever could have been to deal with this pain. I know 2 months ago we were not strong enough to live through this, Alex made us strong enough.
Yesterday we made funeral arrangements, tomorrow we pick out his stone. It is so surreal. The pastor told me we haven't begun to grieve yet, we are still in shock and that scares me. It scares me because the emotions are so strong, the pain is so raw that I don't know what Ii'll do if it gets worse.
I feel at peace in some ways. When I was running to the hospital that day I knew he was passing. When it happened the pain I felt was so extreme I thought my own heart would stop beating then and there. Then as the day went on I felt this overwhelming sense of releif. Releif that he wasn't huring anymore and I still feel that. I feel him all around me but no longer have to see him hurting, see his wounds and the constant oozing of blood from one site or another. He isn't hurting anymore. All he knew in life was pain and that has finally ceased, I'm grateful for that.
This peom will be on his memorial...
God saw you getting tired
and a cure was not to be
So he put his arms around you
and said 'Alexander come with me'
With tearful eyes we watched
And saw you fade away
Although we love you dearly
We could not make you stay
A special heart stopped beating
Your body it did rest
God broke our hearts to prove to us
He only takes the best
Fly high little bubba, fly high.
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