Time

Sometimes I give myself a hard time for not getting on this blog and writing more.  I feel guilty, like I am getting so wrapped up with the busy, and often inconsequential business of life, that I don’t make time, important time and precious time, to talk about Angel, or this grief journey.  I suppose it is a different kind of mother’s guilt.    It is also important for me to continue to have an outlet, and I don’t want that to get away from me.  It helps me to have a space where I can process all of my feelings about the loss. I hope it helps others too, that read along.

I was struck by another blog post this week written by a babyloss dad Chris on Glow in the Woods, about time, and how after the loss he is moving slowly through the world.  In a life shattered by grief and loss, at first you only can take it moment by moment.  When we found out Angel was gone, it was the type of thing that made time stand still.  Like being in a sudden accident, it changes you in that instant of time....but the ripple effects are long and drawn out, and it then takes an unquantifiable amount of time to process what has actually happened. 

Some days, I wish I could just carve out time to reflect and process.  Already, 10 months later, I feel I get caught up in the busy day to day clutter of work and life, but I NEED that space & time to reflect and grieve and process.  Plus, I now know the importance of a moment in time.  Rushing towards something or away from something only takes you away from enjoying and acknowledging each moment you have in the present. 

Sometimes I wonder, if I had known that Angel wouldn’t have lived, would I have done more to appreciate the precious time with her while she was here?  I don’t want to think I took her for granted, ever.  I don’t feel I did but I suppose you always question… I could have done more, been more, and appreciated more.

A friend of mine asked me recently if I feel guilty for being happy…like having moments of happiness.  The truth is, yes.  Why am I granted this time here and Angel wasn’t? How is that even fair?  How could I possibly be happy and laugh again knowing she is gone and not coming back?  I don’t really know how its possible but it has happened, I have had moments of happiness, thanks to many special people in my life that are pulling me along.   And I think it’s because I know, just like Chris wrote – “Better to tread carefully, watch closely, savor what I have right in front of me…”

I’ve had people say to me “you have your whole life ahead of you.”  Believe me I know this and want to make it meaningful.  What I struggle with is learning to live that life knowing Angel will never be a part of it. 

“Time pushes me forward away from him, forcing me to face every new day with a shadow across my heart cast by the absence of my son, his tiny features etched in my mind: perfect, beautiful and timeless.”

Fortunate to have seen it

A butterfly lights besides us
Like a sunbeam
And for a brief moment
It's glory and beauty
Belong to our world

But, then it flies on again
And though we wish
it could have stayed
we feel fortunate to have seen it

 

A punch in the gut and a butterfly

It’s been an interesting week.  One of the things I’ve been dreading the most happened.  And then one of the coolest things ever happened.

I went to a managers meeting yesterday and saw many people I haven’t seen since the loss.   Going into it, I just had this feeling I would have an uncomfortable conversation with at least one person and I was right.  On one of the breaks, another manager saw me outside the room and said “Oh, are you just back from maternity leave? You had the baby!”  This is where the punch in the gut feeling happens.  I mean, how do you even respond.  I said to her well, no it didn’t work out.  Her face changed immediately and she said “Oh I didn’t know.”  I just said “it’s ok” and walked away before I started crying.  At least we weren’t in the meeting room at the time, in front of a large group or something.   I knew this sort of thing was going to happen sooner or later.  I guess in a way I am relieved I was able to deal with it sort of ok.  I held my tears. At least until after work.

The other night though, Jeff and I were in the backyard and I was taking some photos of Angel’s garden, since things are blooming quite nicely now.  I was standing in the middle of the yard and a butterfly came by pretty close to me.  I stood still in my place watching and it got closer and closer and then landed on my arm!!  Luckily I had the phone in my hands and the camera ready to go – I got a photo of it.  Coolest. Thing. Ever.

How he is an amazing father

With father's day just passing on Sunday, I wanted to take a moment to write about what as amazing Dad Jeff is.  Since becoming pregnant with Angel, I've witnessed so many things that show his fatherly heart expanding, like:

How he would touch and talk to my belly
How he named her Ringo and would talk about her and what she would be like 
How he made sure I was comfortable and taken care of when pregnant
How he immediately asked to hold her when Angel was born
How gentle and loving he was with her in the hospital and at the funeral home
How he spoke to Angel from the heart and made sure she felt our love for her
How he thoughtfully helped pick out what she would wear and what items would go with her at the funeral home
How he wrote beautiful letters for her, writing down all he wish he could tell her
How he poured his heart into planning Angel's memorial, and how he spoke so eloquently about her at the service
How he proudly got his butterfly tattoo in remembrance of her
How he comforts and holds up her mommy during this journey
How he stands up for and protects Angel's memory
How he tends to Angel's garden
How he is, in every sense of the word, an amazing father, and someone I am grateful to have in my life.

A DAD HURTS TOO

A DAD HURTS TOO

People don't always see the tears a dad cries,
His heart is broken too when his child dies.
He tries to hold it together and be strong,
Even though his world's gone wrong.

He holds his wife as her tears fall, 
Comforts her through it all,
He goes through his day doing what he's supposed to do,But a piece of his heart has been ripped away too.

So when he's alone he lets out his pain,
And his tears come like falling rain,
His world has crashed in around him,
And a world that was once bright has gone dim.

He feels he has to be strong for others,
But Dads hurt too, not just the Mothers,
He searches for answers but none are to be found,
He hides behind a mask when he is feeling down.

He smiles through his tears,
He struggles and holds in his fears,
But what you see on the outside is not always real,
Men don't always show how they really feel.

So I'd like to ask a favor of you,
The next time you see a mother hurting
over the loss of her child,
please remember.....a Dad hurts too

When you flew away

:****(

10 months

Dear Angel

It has been 10 months since I held you in my arms.  10 whole months.  With the double digit, it really feels like a significant milestone.  I still think of you so often, many times a day.  Your daddy and I won’t ever stop missing you. 

The other day your Daddy and I were looking at these owls that are living in our cedar tree in the backyard.  A white butterfly flew by next to us and he said "look Angel is here too."

I have been thinking a lot about the day we found out you were gone and the day you were born.  As I have been working on your baby book, it has pulled me back to try to remember details that I can record.  It makes me think about all the things I wish I had done. Like take off your blanket and hat and look at your whole body.  Take more pictures…of you and us holding you…of your hands and feet….I wish I had kept the clothes you wore at the hospital.  How could I not do that?  I wish my brain hadn’t been fogged up with so many drugs. I wish I hadn’t let people make me feel rushed to let go of you.

I am going to be making a memory box to donate the hospital this summer and I hope to help another mom that has lost their baby. In my letter, I will suggest things they could do with their baby, before they leave the hospital. I hope this helps someone else, in your memory.

Angel, your garden is growing so much…we love watching the changes as things fill out and bloom. 

Just like we would have loved watching you develop and grow.  I often wonder what you might have looked like if you had lived, and what kinds of things we would be doing together now.

You have changed me so much.  In losing you, I now live with the firsthand understanding of how life can change immeasurably in an instant.   I am trying so hard to not let this cripple me but rather let it inspire me to live fuller.  My soul has grown larger through suffering, Larger for both joy and suffering, weakness and strength, anger and love, despair and hope.

___

I woke up today to find this photo sent to me from my friend Amanda.  She took the time to write Angel's name in the sand at sunrise this morning, and I am so, so grateful.  This is Corolla Beach on the east coast, where she is on vacation.  Thank you so much!!