This morning, I woke up and knew my week was over. I didn't jump out of bed with pure joy and energy, but that's because I never do that. However, I did feel different. The best way I can explain it is that even though I was up late watching baseball, I awoke today feeling less tired than I have the past few days.
Although I did have my moments, all in all, it was probably my easiest anniversary week so far. It was the first year that I didn't go through their memory boxes, look at their pictures and spend private time with each of them. During the day, I didn't have the time. I could have done it at night, after the kids were in bed but for whatever reasons, I didn't. And I'm okay with that.
Yesterday was Abby's birthday. I didn't sit and write anything in her memory because, again, I didn't have time. Although a larger than normal part of my heart was with my eternal babies this week, my focus was on my children who are here with me. I know Hannah, Ryan and Abby understand that they are quietly with me always, even when Joey and Laura are loudly demanding my attention.
Yes, this year was easier, by far. Perhaps in a few weeks or months I will want to sit and spend some time going through their tangible things and maybe then I will really cry, but right now, I'm warm inside knowing that they are with me, always and that my life is full. I am living in the present and it's a good place to be.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
~~Ryan~~
My first thought today was of the son I will never know~the son who, of all my children, had the most peaceful entrance into the world. My son Ryan. He was so small and looked so gentle; perfect. And yet, I didn't have time for tears this morning because Joey woke early so I had to get up and start the day. Today was a crazy, hectic day. I took Joey to karate then piled 2 more kids into my car and brought all of them home to my house for the day. I'm helping a friend who needs help and the only way I can actually do anything is to take her kids for her, so I spent the entire day with (3) 4 year olds and a 2 year old. Needless to say, my brain was busy today and now I'm tired.
Somewhere inside me, there is a longing to sit with a little boy who never will grow up. I want to look at his picture and go through his things and try to remember the smell of him, through his blanket-even though it has long since faded. But today is not the day that it will happen. I can hear the music of Tigger and Pooh so I know I have less than 2 minutes until Joey and Laura start wandering, looking for me. And, at 5:15, I need to start dinner and the night time routine. No, this is not the day to go through Ryan's box, or write him a note, or spend a lot of quiet time "with" him. But even though it was a happy and busy day, when I did have a quick moment, my thoughts went to my son on his 6th birthday.
I love you Ryan and I miss you, my sweet boy.
Somewhere inside me, there is a longing to sit with a little boy who never will grow up. I want to look at his picture and go through his things and try to remember the smell of him, through his blanket-even though it has long since faded. But today is not the day that it will happen. I can hear the music of Tigger and Pooh so I know I have less than 2 minutes until Joey and Laura start wandering, looking for me. And, at 5:15, I need to start dinner and the night time routine. No, this is not the day to go through Ryan's box, or write him a note, or spend a lot of quiet time "with" him. But even though it was a happy and busy day, when I did have a quick moment, my thoughts went to my son on his 6th birthday.
I love you Ryan and I miss you, my sweet boy.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
The Gift
Yesterday, I received the most unexpected gift.
Since Hannah, Ryan and Abby's births and deaths, my in-laws have never handled things well. For years, I have suspected that my mother in law would have done things differently but that my father in law was always "in control" of what they do or say. Rod called them as soon as we knew we would lose Hannah and they didn't come because they had a dinner party that evening. I learned this months later when I asked them why they didn't come to see Hannah. My father in law responded, "We didn't want to offend our friends". I was devastated that they would choose a dinner party with friends over supporting their son during the most devastating time of his life.
Throughout the years, they have never mentioned Hannah, Ryan or Abby, unless it's to allude to the "miscarriage" or "loss". None of their friends were told about the memorial service and several family members were told "it will be a small service for immediate family only" so they didn't need to attend. I am grateful for those family members who felt strongly enough to attend and support Rod anyway, as it was totally appropriate for them to be there. The service was anything but a small~my entire family (including aunts and uncles from far away) attended, friends of my parents, our friends and many of their parents attended. The support was overwhelming, but I know that it was hurtful for Rod that there wasn't a stronger presence from his family.
In the past few years, my mother in law has made an effort. Although she never remembers the dates, she has recently started sending a note in October letting me know that she is thinking of us and of Hannah, Ryan and Abby. She has told me more than once that she regrets not coming when Hannah was born. She regrets not seeing her, not holding her and not supporting Rod and me. She is a woman controlled by her husband and in the past few years, I have learned to forgive her for the things she didn't do; things she couldn't do.
Last night was the memorial service for Rod's grandmother. My mother in law started the evening off with a few words about her Mom. But before she started, she thanked everyone for coming and then she said the most uncharacteristic thing: "I would like to pause for a moment to remember Rod and April's first three children, Hannah, Ryan and Abby, who died 6 years ago around this time"
Both Rod and I started crying and this unexpected acknowledgment of our babies. The remainder of the service was, appropriately, about his grandmother. However, for me the recognition and remembrance of my sweet angels was the nicest gift my mother in law has ever given me.
Since Hannah, Ryan and Abby's births and deaths, my in-laws have never handled things well. For years, I have suspected that my mother in law would have done things differently but that my father in law was always "in control" of what they do or say. Rod called them as soon as we knew we would lose Hannah and they didn't come because they had a dinner party that evening. I learned this months later when I asked them why they didn't come to see Hannah. My father in law responded, "We didn't want to offend our friends". I was devastated that they would choose a dinner party with friends over supporting their son during the most devastating time of his life.
Throughout the years, they have never mentioned Hannah, Ryan or Abby, unless it's to allude to the "miscarriage" or "loss". None of their friends were told about the memorial service and several family members were told "it will be a small service for immediate family only" so they didn't need to attend. I am grateful for those family members who felt strongly enough to attend and support Rod anyway, as it was totally appropriate for them to be there. The service was anything but a small~my entire family (including aunts and uncles from far away) attended, friends of my parents, our friends and many of their parents attended. The support was overwhelming, but I know that it was hurtful for Rod that there wasn't a stronger presence from his family.
In the past few years, my mother in law has made an effort. Although she never remembers the dates, she has recently started sending a note in October letting me know that she is thinking of us and of Hannah, Ryan and Abby. She has told me more than once that she regrets not coming when Hannah was born. She regrets not seeing her, not holding her and not supporting Rod and me. She is a woman controlled by her husband and in the past few years, I have learned to forgive her for the things she didn't do; things she couldn't do.
Last night was the memorial service for Rod's grandmother. My mother in law started the evening off with a few words about her Mom. But before she started, she thanked everyone for coming and then she said the most uncharacteristic thing: "I would like to pause for a moment to remember Rod and April's first three children, Hannah, Ryan and Abby, who died 6 years ago around this time"
Both Rod and I started crying and this unexpected acknowledgment of our babies. The remainder of the service was, appropriately, about his grandmother. However, for me the recognition and remembrance of my sweet angels was the nicest gift my mother in law has ever given me.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Hannah Rose born 10/24 and died 10/25
This is the first year I haven't been home for Hannah's birthday. Instead, we are on Cape Cod for Rod's grandmother's memorial service. My brother and law and his finance are here and so are my in-laws. The distraction has been nice, as we arrived on Thursday and I sailed through Thrusday and Friday without emotion.
However, last night, no sooner was I in bed then the tears started rolling down my cheeks. They were most unexpected, as I didnt' think I was thinking about Hannah, but I was. I gently and silently cried myself to sleep but I never fell into a deep slumber. My dreams were twisted~babies were born who looked like Hannah but were left nameless for years, a child born to me whom I did not know I had delivered and who was somehow found in a school locker. Dreams can be odd like that, making no sense but having touches of real like anxiety, stress or sadness peppered into their weirdness.
And now today, with the exception of Rod, nobody around me remembers what today means for me. Nobody remembers that today, my first born daughter made an extremely difficult entrance into this world and then a few hours later, she quietly passed into an afterworld. I am expected to smile, make small talk and be my normal self and all I really want to do is crawl into a ball, close my eyes and cry for my sweet little baby who never had the chance to grow into a toddler, a little girl, a teen or a woman.
While today will be a blur of activity and when I log off this computer, I will push my tears aside and dig deep to put on a happy face, my heart will be heavy and tears will puddle just under the surface for the pain and sadness I feel today.
Hannah~sweet Hannah. I love you and I miss you so much.
However, last night, no sooner was I in bed then the tears started rolling down my cheeks. They were most unexpected, as I didnt' think I was thinking about Hannah, but I was. I gently and silently cried myself to sleep but I never fell into a deep slumber. My dreams were twisted~babies were born who looked like Hannah but were left nameless for years, a child born to me whom I did not know I had delivered and who was somehow found in a school locker. Dreams can be odd like that, making no sense but having touches of real like anxiety, stress or sadness peppered into their weirdness.
And now today, with the exception of Rod, nobody around me remembers what today means for me. Nobody remembers that today, my first born daughter made an extremely difficult entrance into this world and then a few hours later, she quietly passed into an afterworld. I am expected to smile, make small talk and be my normal self and all I really want to do is crawl into a ball, close my eyes and cry for my sweet little baby who never had the chance to grow into a toddler, a little girl, a teen or a woman.
While today will be a blur of activity and when I log off this computer, I will push my tears aside and dig deep to put on a happy face, my heart will be heavy and tears will puddle just under the surface for the pain and sadness I feel today.
Hannah~sweet Hannah. I love you and I miss you so much.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Why I'm going to hate homework
Joey is in preschool and his class is learning about dinosaurs. Together, they made a paper-mache egg and later a stuffed animal dinosaur "hatched" from it. Each student gets to take "Platey" (the stegosaurus) home with him/her after their "snack day" and they are supposed to take care of it. Monday was our day to bring Platey home.
Mind you-I had no idea any of this was going on. When I ask Joey what he did in school, his answer is usually the same: "I played". I never hear about what's actually going on in class unless I happen to eavesdrop on the little girls chatting with their moms after school. In the last 2 months, I have concluded that girls tell all and boys tell nothing.
Anyway, between Monday afternoon and this morning (Wed) we somehow lost Platey. Joey could have cared less that the dinosaur was missing so he hemmed and hawed and lifted one pillow on the couch, poorly acting like he was looking for it. I was already slightly panicked that we wouldn't find the creature in time, but his lackadaisical attitude only added to my frustration. I have learned that if Joey thinks something is interesting, he'll give it 110%. If he doesn't like it, he will barely squeak out a 1% effort. He thinks the whole Platey idea is lame. When I asked him why he never mentioned it to me before his snack day, his response was: "It's kind of stupid, Mom. I mean, we built the egg, the teacher put Platey in it and now she wants us to believe it hatched and we have to take care of it?!"
When put this way, I do see his point.
The 2 days the thing was home with him, Laura showed more interest in it then Joey did. I never saw him play with it once. So where did it go???
In the end, we headed out to school without Platey. Joey had to tell the teacher that he couldn't find Platey while I stood there feeling like an inferior mom because we lost it. I then rushed home to search the house again so the next child in line wouldn't be disappointing that they weren't able to take Platey home with them.
Laura and I entered the house and I sighed and said, "Oh Laura. Where is Platey?" to which she replied, "I know Mommy" and she walked over to her training potty, lifted the lid and low and behold, there he was.
All I can say is: how fitting.
Mind you-I had no idea any of this was going on. When I ask Joey what he did in school, his answer is usually the same: "I played". I never hear about what's actually going on in class unless I happen to eavesdrop on the little girls chatting with their moms after school. In the last 2 months, I have concluded that girls tell all and boys tell nothing.
Anyway, between Monday afternoon and this morning (Wed) we somehow lost Platey. Joey could have cared less that the dinosaur was missing so he hemmed and hawed and lifted one pillow on the couch, poorly acting like he was looking for it. I was already slightly panicked that we wouldn't find the creature in time, but his lackadaisical attitude only added to my frustration. I have learned that if Joey thinks something is interesting, he'll give it 110%. If he doesn't like it, he will barely squeak out a 1% effort. He thinks the whole Platey idea is lame. When I asked him why he never mentioned it to me before his snack day, his response was: "It's kind of stupid, Mom. I mean, we built the egg, the teacher put Platey in it and now she wants us to believe it hatched and we have to take care of it?!"
When put this way, I do see his point.
The 2 days the thing was home with him, Laura showed more interest in it then Joey did. I never saw him play with it once. So where did it go???
In the end, we headed out to school without Platey. Joey had to tell the teacher that he couldn't find Platey while I stood there feeling like an inferior mom because we lost it. I then rushed home to search the house again so the next child in line wouldn't be disappointing that they weren't able to take Platey home with them.
Laura and I entered the house and I sighed and said, "Oh Laura. Where is Platey?" to which she replied, "I know Mommy" and she walked over to her training potty, lifted the lid and low and behold, there he was.
All I can say is: how fitting.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Pumpkin Season...
Remembering a child or children who died is such a person experience and there really is no right or wrong thing to do, as long as it works for the person and their family. My celebrations and remembrances tend to be private in nature. I have a special painting of three tiny birds hanging in my family room, a Swavorski crystal bouquet of 3 "forget-me-not" flower blooms, those types of things. I don't hang stockings or make birthday cakes or do balloon releases.
But I do think of Fall as "their time" and every year since they were born and died, Rod and I have ventured to the pumpkin patch and picked out one pumpkin for each member of our family. We get 2 larger ones for Rod and me, Joey and Laura pick theirs out and then we get three smaller ones for Hannah, Ryan and Abby.
This October has been very crazy for our family. Rod and I took a much needed "grown up only" vacation together and spent a blissful week on our boat exploring the creeks and rivers of the Chesapeake. We returned home and are now heading out to the Outer Banks, NC for a family vacation and when we get back from that, we turn around and head north to Cape Cod for a "Celebration of Life" service for Rod's Grandmother who passed away recently. We will be gone every weekend but Halloween this year.
Although my brain has known about our schedule for months now, it has only recently registered that it means that as a family, we wouldn't get to pick out our pumpkins this year.
And while it may seem like a silly thing to cry over, I know that the tears I shed today carried so much more meaning than just a missed trip to the pumpkin patch.
But I do think of Fall as "their time" and every year since they were born and died, Rod and I have ventured to the pumpkin patch and picked out one pumpkin for each member of our family. We get 2 larger ones for Rod and me, Joey and Laura pick theirs out and then we get three smaller ones for Hannah, Ryan and Abby.
This October has been very crazy for our family. Rod and I took a much needed "grown up only" vacation together and spent a blissful week on our boat exploring the creeks and rivers of the Chesapeake. We returned home and are now heading out to the Outer Banks, NC for a family vacation and when we get back from that, we turn around and head north to Cape Cod for a "Celebration of Life" service for Rod's Grandmother who passed away recently. We will be gone every weekend but Halloween this year.
Although my brain has known about our schedule for months now, it has only recently registered that it means that as a family, we wouldn't get to pick out our pumpkins this year.
And while it may seem like a silly thing to cry over, I know that the tears I shed today carried so much more meaning than just a missed trip to the pumpkin patch.
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