10-26

As the day draws to a close I lay silently in my bed. I cry. No need to bring attention to myself. I feel lonely, this is the day 27 years ago that we found out our Son had died. This sudden urge to be with him, hold him pulls at me. I jump up and proceed to look for the weighted heart we had been gifted after Lainey's death. His heart with his name weighs in at 6lbs 3 ounces, exactly his birth weight. It's not in my dresser where it used to live. We've moved twice since then. I started digging in my closet, in Lainey's box. It's not there, neither is her weighted heart. I search under my bed, in Ricky's box. It's not there either. Where could it be? It would have been packed, but where? Tears stream down my face as I lay back down. My thoughts carry me to boxes in the basement. What else am I missing? Then I play thoughts of the last few days- a family wedding, two this year. My cousins, aged 27 and 25. Ricky would have been 27, would he be married by now? Would he have children? All that is lost, feels heavy. 

I've received an unexpected package in the mail, I'll save it for tomorrow, for a bright spot in my day. Someone invited me to lunch, I think I'll accept, I NEED to accept. I somehow sleep, not before begging my son to let me see him in my dreams. 

Morning comes. It's my birthday and the last day I saw my son on this earth, 27 years ago. I held him for the smallest moment, then I never held him again. How could I not hold him again? Nurses offered for me to hold him, I was so young. I have so many regrets from that time, how was I supposed to know? Why didn't someone tell me something? I wanted to wear a necklace I was given when Lainey was born, it had broken and I can't find it. I had received a replacement, but I've never worn it. Today would be the day, 1st time out of the box, it's tarnished. I don't know how to clean it before work. I have to set it aside. I start digging around for the necklace with Lainey and Ricky's name, I can't find it. Did we leave it at the log cabin? Is it gone forever? My mind races back to the basement, what box could it possibly be in, in the basement? I don't think any of them, I don't see how it's possible. How could I leave such treasured items behind? 

I remember my package, a gift from my best friend Angie. A calming bracelet, an air plant and gardening soap. To say it's a perfect gift would be an understatement. I'm crazy about the air plant, the bracelet- she knows me so well and the gardening soap, just wait until I get some dirt on my hands! A thoughtful surprise, a blessing, a bright spot to my day. Here's my dilemma, I can walk around all day faking happiness, or I can be miserable, I FEEL miserable. Don't you people remember how awful this day is for me? Don't you people get it? Some times it's HARD to have a happy birthday when that is the day my son was gone. I'm torn among the living, trying to be happy, trying not to make people feel bad, people who care, people who want me to be happy. Responding to the text messages, thanking people for their love and support feels forced, and yet I am genuinely appreciative. Perhaps I need to be appreciative tomorrow? I would feel awful to receive no well wishes at all. This is a no win, the right thing to do evades me. 

Tonight, I'll have to face my family. They'll expect and want me to be happy, how can I be when two of them are missing? If I'm not happy people become easily frustrated with me, wonder why they bother, they can't win either. It's so hard to forcibly be happy when I just want to die inside, die of grief, what's missing, what should have been...it'll pass. It has to pass. 

Son- I wish you were here. I somehow wish that by you being here everything would be ok, that maybe we'd be a cohesive family unit, one that likes each other, plays games, gets along. Please bring us back together. Help us to love each other and have fun with each other again. I'm so sorry, you didn't get to live this life with us. I'm 27 years closer to you, I love you. Happy Birthday!

It's STILL my birthday

I entered my Aunts house under the premise that we'd be working on Halloween Costumes for her sweet baby.  Instead I was met by a host full of people I loved, family and friends from Church, all there to surprise me with a baby shower!  I was floored, they got me, they really got me.  I had no clue.  

The shower was filled with love, laughter, games, cake, wonderful gifts I couldn't wait to use on my own sweet baby, due in 4 short weeks.  I left the shower, my car loaded down with all things baby, my heart full, and my head throbbing.

We got home, unloaded and I laid down to sleep.  Sunday morning I still felt terrible, but I decided to go to church.  So many church friends had been in on my surprise, I didn't want them to worry about me not being at church.  

Monday came, by late in the afternoon I remember stating to Rick, "I'd feel better if the baby moved more".  He assured me everything was alright, and we'd be at the doctor the next afternoon for our scheduled appointment.    At 8 months pregnant, all the baby books tell you that the baby's movements slow in the end as space is limited.  Unsettled, but satisfied I rested for the night anxious for my appointment on Tuesday.

Rick and I drove to the doctor's office, where the usual tests would happen:   urine sample, blood pressure check, (a bit elevated- concerning?) heart beat, heart beat....heart beat...... The doctor continued to search for a heart beat, until he finally said, "Let's head on over to the hospital, where we can have an ultrasound and get a better look."

Without really speaking, Rick and I knew what we were really going to the hospital to do, to find out if our baby had died.  A nurse checked me in, set me in a wheel chair and started to wheel me down the hall, while Rick parked the car and made a few phone calls.  I cautiously looked up to her and I said, "This doesn't look good does it"?  She nodded her head sadly and said, "No, it sure doesn't".

Gathered in a dark room with our doctor and two nurses, Rick and I could tell what was about to happen, the sad faces of all those in attendance spoke volumes.  Finally my little balding Filipino doctor turned to Rick and I, and with his thick accent said, "At this time, I believe your baby is dead".  I will never forget the way he pronounced the word "dead", he had used his entire face to enunciate, difficult to say, difficult to hear.  

I was admitted to the hospital,  news quickly spread to family and friends. Family arrived at the hospital, my water was broken, and after some time with no evidence that I would go into labor on my own, induction was started.  Not much progress that Tuesday late into the night, so we took a break until morning.   

Morning came, we started again.  I lay still, hooked up to machines in a room right behind the nurses station.  Sad faces in and out, family, friends, strangers all day and night.  Eventually the time came and I delivered my son, all 6 lbs of him.  He was beautiful. He had a true knot in the umbilical cord which ripped him from our lives.  I held him, Rick couldn't, my Mom held him.  I heard Rick his voice so quiet and small say to my doctor, "What a terrible thing to have happen on your birthday".  

There was sort of this audible silence as people processed what he had said, everything got completely still.  I'm certain nurses checked the charts, the doctor likely felt sick.  Nothing could be done, nothing could be changed, my Son was born STILL on MY 22nd birthday.  It couldn't be undone.

Here I am 26 years from that day, more than half my life without him.  As time goes on it is too taboo to talk about anymore.  Mostly people are uncomfortable speaking about my son's death.  The discomfort for me is not being able to talk about him at all.  

Sharing a birthday is a blessing and a curse.  

The day never goes unnoticed, blessing. 

The day never goes unnoticed, curse.  

I fully intend to enjoy my day, celebrate with family and friends every year.  I want to have a good day. My family and friends want me to have a good day.   Sometimes I do, sometimes I am able to celebrate and appreciate what my life has become.  Then there are days when the tears will not stop. Much like today, it started from the moment I woke and it has continued.  I'll shelter myself for a day or so, because holding back those raw feelings is impossible.  You cannot hide tears that just fall. Often times those tears turn to audible cries, sometimes they turn into full on sobbing, no one likes that very much.  It's easier for me to love myself and do I what I need during that time.     

There is no rhyme or reason to the grief, there is no ignoring that day for me.  I'll still get a birthday cake, and secretly remind myself that my day is shared by a special little guy in heaven.  

My son was born STILL on October 27, 1993.

October 27 is STILL by birthday. 

The day is STILL hard.  

Circa 10/10/2014

This picture came up in my facebook memories.  My Mom had come to town to take care of us after we found out about Lainey.  The girls had hope and excitement to have a baby sister.  Mom took our minds off everything going on around us.  

This picture is so incredibly painful to me.  Trying to make the best of a bad situation.  Kaylie's young and naïve hopeful heart. She prayed we'd have a baby after all, she was so excited.

I managed to get through the entire day today and no one knows the tears I've shed.  Not my husband, not my friends, not my kids.  While I write this a friend is sending me messages on Facebook, happy, cheery...she has no idea my eyes burn from the makeup in them.  I even spent time at the movies dying inside.  Thought about running my car into a tree on the way home in the dark and rainy night.  

My God, when does this pain end. Almost 4 years later, no one wants to hear about your grief.  

HoCo 2018

Levi invited Kaylie to homecoming this year.  Before dinner we took some photo's at 

Levi's house with friends.  

 I suggested Levi and Kaylie stand up for a few pictures, they stood straight up, side by side with their arms down and Levi's friends were like, "No, no, you have to do it like this" and they wrapped their arms around each other and continued to instruct Levi and Kaylie until they had their hands in the right place.  It was so funny!  

Kaylie and Levi, both 15 and Sophomores.

The kids did a few more fun pictures before heading off to Pomodora's for dinner.  At Pomodora's they meet up with another set of parents and another couple. 

 They made it to the dance and had a good time.  Kaylie commented that Levi opened doors, pulled the chair out for her to sit down...he was a perfect gentleman.  I'm so grateful there are Momma's still raising their boys to be gentleman!  

This year I did not get one decent shot of Lexie dressed up in her Homecoming dress!  She and her friend Lauren fooled around too long and missed daylight picture taking.  UGH!  

a perfect split

Today is my 27th wedding anniversary!  I was up early, dressed in work out attire, because you know I'm going to go work out...

Walked the dog.

More like I let smokey meander around the back yard as I plotted out the perfect backyard snapchat picture I was going to take.

Walking across the wet grass in my trusted Asics tennis shoes, I stepped with my right foot onto a small dock.  No sooner had I stepped onto said doc, did my foot effortlessly sail the length of that dock, while my helpless left foot remained planted on the grass.  The force of being pulled forward brought me down across the dock, right leg stretched beyond capacity while the left leg buckled under pressure and slammed into the dock.

The PAIN!

The HOLY PAIN!

I knew I had to get up, the dog was unattended.  The girls were still getting ready for school.  I called Kaylie on her cell and asked for help.  They both stood at the door gawking at my miserable struggle to get back to the house.

There would be no work out today, there would be nothing but elevation and icing.  It was horrible.  So horrible in fact I would not be able to actually drive all weekend.  Then when I did, I had to use my left foot for an entire week to drive.  Week two I could use my right foot for gas, but I had to break with my left.  By week three I could drive again, but let me tell you my leg and my derriere, still ache like a tooth ache if I am not careful.

Believe me, I'm careful!

Wow

Just so much emotion right now.

My son would be 24 this year! 

Would he have served a mission, graduated college, be married?  Where has 24 years gone? 

I try to tell myself I'm just 24 years closer, that doesn't really help.

Early this morning I had the following memory, I don't know why and it still stings:

Ricky died with no notice, it took over 24 hours to find out and deliver him.  Riddled with exhaustion and sorrow I held him for a very short time in delivery.  The next 24 hours were filled with that same exhaustion and sorrow.  I was offered to hold him again, each time I would gently refuse.  I don't know how are supposed to act when you son dies before delivery!  I don't know how to handle this, I'm 22!

While I lay in the hospital, Rick and my Mother had to go buy the casket and things for the October 30th burial.  I wasn't in my right mind, I didn't even think to put him in a nice outfit. 

In my mind, I thought I'd see him before burial, I thought I'd see him before the casket was closed.  Maybe then I would have known he wasn't dressed appropriately, maybe then I would have wrapped him in something beautiful and warm. 

When I asked to see him, my hopeful heart was trampled with, "I'm sorry, he was not prepared for viewing". 

Wow, just wow...

The pain of that memory is like a ton of bricks, which still shows up to crush me. 

When the damn breaks

Saturday September 23, 2017

So many emotions...where to start?

Earlier in the week my Dad and I had a conversation, he was going to visit family in another city.  This city happened to be close to the cemetery where are babies are buried. 

I worry about weeds taking it over, I worry about the stone sinking, I worry about the stone being lost, I worry about my children being forgotten.  We live so far away, well, we are in North Carolina!  My babies are in Maryland at a charming church and cemetery where my Father's family is buried.  But still, that's Maryland!

I asked my dad if he would mind driving over and uncovering the grave.  Not difficult for most, but not an easy task for my dad.  He cannot get on the ground and get back up. 

The days past and I had forgotten my request.

It was Saturday morning and Lexie was getting a ride to the fair with a classmates Mom.  I hadn't met her yet, very nice, personable...she was talking about her toddler, the schedule, the napping..."you know how toddlers are..."

Like a knife, straight through my heart.  (thoughts creep in, I should have a toddler...)

Later, looking on facebook, a family member (too old for babies) got a new dog, a post was made, "after almost three years of marriage, my husband and I decided it was time to hear the pitter patter of little feet".  (what?  dogs don't pitter patter...I should hear pitter patter of little feet...)

Salt in a wound.

My oldest face timed me, I was a bit weepy, just couldn't really overcome the emotion. Trying to explain a bit how I feel, the overwhelming emotion.  I just couldn't hold it in!

My dad calls through interrupting our conversation.  I'm taking the call on the house phone, while Lindsay is on the other end of the FaceTime. 

My dad says, "You're not going to believe this, but I am over here at the cemetery and I cannot find the marker".  My heart sunk, all those things I worry about are coming true. I could hear the panic in his voice, the defeat in having to call me.  I remained calm, tried not to let him hear my own panic. 

I talked him through the cemetery. 

"You know where Grandma and PapPap Young are buried?"

"Yes"

"If you are looking at the words on their headstone, you would be facing one of the roads in the cemetery."

"Yes, my car is parked on that next road"

"Ok, then walk directly up towards that road, and on the other side of it, to the right a little you will find their headstone."

"Oh, I've went up two roads, Well, let me try this again..." 

I hear walking, rustling...his doubt...still not finding his way.

"Dad, there are several headstones near the babies, one is a big black rock labeled Midnight Rider, do you see it?"

"Wait a minute, yes, I see it."

"There is another one, an infant one born and died on my birthday 10/27/1971, a lamb and heart..."

"Yes, I see that one..."

"Look along the road, you'll find it."

"Oh, my gosh...it's right here near the back tire of may car, I can't believe it!"

He tells me, he's going to go, get to work...just before we end the conversation I say, "Take a picture".

and then the damn broke, the tears could not stop, the emotion, the relief, the sadness of it all.  Having heard the panic and desperation in my dads voice, why do we have this pain too?  Lindsay had to go, and I couldn't talk anyway.  I had to go into my room, to regain composure. 

Once I had emerged from my room my eyes were cool and wet, they remained that way for the rest of the day. I just could not ever shake that feeling. 

About two hours later, Dad sends me this picture.  Again, relief and pain, gratitude and sorrow.

I called him and asked him about it, he went on to tell me his phone had died.  He finished cleaning around the stone.  Drove into town, bought a car charger, charged his phone while having a sandwich and snapped this picture.  My dad has so little extra money in his life, he no longer can work, and social security is meager. To clean around the stone, he had borrowed a shovel from the neighbor!  He went through all that extra work for me, for his grandchildren.  The tears started again, and now as I write.  

The season of their loss is among us, and while I don't allow it to overtake me, I was unceasingly  immersed in it on Saturday.  My eye lashes remained cool and wet, my heart was pained...the loss equals that of the love and so Sunday I started anew.