Stress

For all of us, stress is a part of life.  We have stress in doing our jobs every day, paying bills each month, keeping our households running, trying to make enough time for all we need and want to do.  I myself have often found myself stressed.  I get stressed when my to-do list gets to long, my email inbox seems overflowing, I have too many events on my calendar.  I get stressed over silly things...like trying to get my laundry done or making a weekly meal plan.  This normal, everyday stress has never caused big issues in my life.  I've been able to cope...move things to the next week's to do list...ask Tim to help do things around the house...divide large tasks at work into manageable pieces.

Now, however, I am dealing with a completely new type of stress...the stress that comes along with grief.  This stress is there, but yet it is hidden.  And it's manifesting in ways that are not especially healthy for me.  We already know that stress is not helpful when trying to conceive...and my visit to the dentist yesterday revealed that stress is causing issues with my teeth and gums (seeing as that's all that has really changed since my last regular visit earlier this year.)  Stress is also likely the cause of my constant exhaustion despite getting plenty of sleep.  The physical stress response in my body causes me to use up energy that I don't even have.

This new stress, and realization of the effect it is having on me, has caused even more stress.  Now I'm worried about taming and controlling this stress response to grief.  I don't want my teeth to fall out.  I want to get pregnant.  I don't want to feel constantly exhausted.  Being less stressed would help in all of these areas.  Yet I already do so many things...I see a therapist weekly, I take antidepressants daily, I say no to doing things when I feel overwhelmed, I journal and write regularly, I listen to music, I eat relatively well...  I suppose really the only thing I haven't yet tried, and that I know would probably be helpful, is exercise.  I need to find the motivation to get off the couch...walk the dogs...find a gym that isn't scary...try yoga...  It's so hard, despite knowing the benefits, to find the motivation when I am so tired all...the...time.  But maybe this new worry will be the push I need to get started doing something.  It may not cure my stress issues, but any little bit will help at this point!  So feel free to check on me...ask if I've done any physical exercise lately...and hopefully eventually the answer will usually be yes.  :)

(This picture has absolutely nothing to do with this post, but it's cute and I wanted to share it...maybe it will make someone smile and reduce their stress a bit!)

Strength and Weakness

Sometimes, when I think about all that Henry went through and how sick he must have felt, I feel weak.  When I had a cold...just a cold, no fever, no nausea, just a stuffy head and nose, I complained and acted like I was deathly ill.  Yet Henry, little Henry, had cancer...leukemia...and he smiled and carried on like any normal six-month-old.  Looking back at pictures, I see how sick he was.  At the time, of course, we had no idea.  And why would we have?  No one assumes that their six-month-old who has a bit of a cold or an ear infection is actually battling something much bigger.  To me, Henry is the definition of strength.  He smiled, he played, he snuggled, he loved...even as this vicious awful disease was attacking his body.

The other day, though, I realized that Tim and I do actually have some of Henry's strength.  Henry felt like crap, but he smiled anyway.  And on a daily basis, Tim and I feel like "crap," but we smile and carry on.  We may not have a cancer eating away at our body, but we have a grief eating away at our heart.  And just like Henry fought to beat the cancer, we fight to survive the grief.  And had Henry "beat" the cancer, it would always have still been there.  Every doctor's appointment would have brought anxiety...every sniffle would have us worried.  So it is with grief.  We will never "beat" grief.  But we are learning to live with it...learning to make our way in a world without our boys in it...learning to find happiness with what we do have and what we will have.  That's what I have to remind myself of in those moments when I feel weak...that Henry gave me the strength to go on.

Exhaustion

There have been many times in my life when I have been exhausted. As a young child who wanted to stay up and play...as a middle school student after sleepovers with friends...as a high school student getting home in predawn hours from speech tournaments or marching band competitions (yes, I was a big time nerd in high school...well, and I still am!)...in college pulling nearly all-nighters to get assignments done that I'd procrastinated...as a new teacher trying to get my job figured out...as a newly pregnant mom trying to grow a tiny human...and, of course, as a new mom learning how to take care of that tiny human. Exhaustion is nothing new.

But then there's the exhaustion that comes along with grief. This is different than any other exhaustion I've experienced. It's complete and total exhaustion...complete mental, physical and emotional exhaustion. It's an exhaustion that takes everything I have just to go through the motions. I have to make myself focus on work...when I get home I have to remind myself that I am hungry so it would be beneficial to make something for dinner. It takes energy just to convince myself to get off the couch and get groceries or do laundry. I have been able to do all of these things, but it takes intentional thinking and motivation. It's more than just going through the motions, as I have to first convince myself to go through the motions, and then I actually do it. And it's an exhaustion so complete that I'm wiped out and ready for bed by about 7:00 every evening, though I usually force myself to remain out of bed until at least 8:00.

In some ways, I have to count my blessings. I can't imagine being this exhausted and still trying to parent. I am thankful that I can be selfish and take care of myself in whatever way I need. I am grateful to have a husband that understands, and doesn't push me to do more than I feel able to do. (There have been several instances where we had social plans, and I backed out with nothing more than understanding from Tim.) I am thankful that my schedule has been pretty quiet so that I can be lazy most evenings and weekends. And I'm thankful for my fur babies who are more than happy to keep my lazy butt company! One day we'll once again have different reasons to be exhausted, and I look forward to those days.

Heartbreak

Today marks eleven months since we said goodbye to Henry.  It's been eleven months of putting one foot in front of the other...eleven months of putting on a "happy" face...eleven months of finding the good in the darkness of such tragedy.  It's been eleven months of exhaustion...taking all of our energy just to go through the daily motions, leaving little leftover for things beyond plopping on the couch in front of the TV. 

I feel a bit like a Negative Nellie or a Debbie Downer lately, and it's hard not to get down on myself for that.  I have spent most of the past eleven months trying every day to find something positive, to focus on the good things in my life, and I feel like I have been pretty successful overall.  But now, in this time of year, I'm back to using most of my energy to get myself out of bed and to work, and I'm lacking the energy to find that positive.  I know it's the nature of grief, that the waves come and go, but that doesn't mean that I like it.

Thank you for allowing me to share my feelings...the good and the bad.  It helps tremendously to be able to share, and vent, and feel.  I feel like apologizing for the negative tone lately, but then I know that isn't really necessary.  I know that it is my reality, and that's okay (even if I don't like it.) 

Traditions

We are getting into a time of year when traditions are important.  Every family has some sort of traditions, and most families have holiday traditions.  These traditions may grow and change as families grow and change, but they are important traditions nonetheless.  As soon as Tim and I got together, we started building our traditions.  Again, these traditions have grown and changed even in the few years we've been together.  Once we found out we were expecting Brady, we started dreaming about the traditions we would build not only for us, but for our kids.  When we lost Brady, we lost some of these dreams.

Then Henry came along, and we started dreaming again.  Henry got to be a part of a few traditions during his short time on earth.  He celebrated his first family holiday at Easter, at the tender age of 6 days old.  He celebrated the 4th of July at some of the Ralston festivities.  And, of course, he dressed up as the cutest monster for Halloween.  Henry the monster visited the Fall Festival at Mommy's school, and made appearances at both Grandma's and Grandpa's workplaces.  Henry got to enjoy a couple of other fall traditions at the apple orchard and at Vala's.

Unfortunately, that's where our traditions with Henry (here on earth, at least) ended.  We spent what would have been Henry's first Thanksgiving holiday at his visitation, funeral, and burial.  Henry's first Christmas was spent in a fog of grief, as was his first New Year's.  And we celebrated Henry's first birthday at the cemetery rather than having a party with his family and friends.  When we found out we were expecting, and especially once Henry was here, these were not the traditions we dreamed about.

Now we are starting to start some new traditions.  We visit the boys at the cemetery and read to them.  We painted pumpkins for the boys' graves.  We recognize their birthdays with fresh flowers and balloons at the cemetery.  These aren't the traditions we dreamed about, but these traditions are now our reality.  More importantly, these are traditions that we will carry on when we have more children.  It will be a way to keep Brady's and Henry's memories alive, and to include them in family and holiday celebrations.

Despite these traditions that we are starting, the holidays and this time of year continue to be difficult.  I feel like we are making the best of the reality in which we are living, but that doesn't make it easy.  I have no idea what the holidays will bring this year, and Halloween is just the beginning of that.  Even as our family (hopefully) grows, this will always be a tough time of year.  Yet I still dream about what other traditions we will build...what traditions we will create to honor our boys in Heaven and celebrate the children we will one day have on earth.

Issues

I'm sure it doesn't come as any surprise that I have issues.  To be fair, I've had issues since long before I had and lost babies, before I was married, even before I was an adult.  Sometimes my issues are simple...I'm hungry but I don't know what to eat, or I'm tired but I'm too lazy to move to bed from the couch.  Other times my issues are slightly more complex...moving, deciding whether or not to change jobs, deciding to go back to school.  And then there are times that my issues are completely emotional...sadness, despair, despondency.

Today, and lately, I've definitely been dealing more with the latter set of issues.  The last few weeks have (finally) been relatively quiet.  After a busy summer and an even busier start to the school year, things seem to have settled down.  This should make me very happy.  I'm usually happiest when my calendar is relatively blank...when I can come home from work, put on sweats, cook dinner, and chill in front of the TV.  And I love the blank weekends...a blank slate to fill with football, maybe a beer or two, and then the essentials like grocery shopping and laundry.  But I'm starting to feel a little restless...a little lost with all of this free time.  This is where my issues come in.

I don't want to have a busy schedule, and when I do have commitments I usually don't want to keep them.  But when I'm home, with a glorious day stretching ahead of nothing planned, I start to get restless, stir crazy, and even a little bored.  Even when watching football, my mind starts to wander, and wonder what else I could be doing.  Yet I'm too lazy to actually DO anything.  Do you see the dilemma?  Like everything else, I'm trying to be patient with myself.  I'm trying to convince myself to do things that I have always liked...such as read the mountain of books I've collected.  I'm trying to convince myself to get back into the habit of cooking meals.  And, I'm trying to convince myself (not very successfully) that it wouldn't be a bad idea to clean our house.  But I also know that the upcoming months are going to be rough, and that some days making it to work, or moving from the bed to the couch on a weekend might be about all I can manage.  For now, I'll go back to watching a little football, and maybe read a bit, as I continue to dream of the day when I'll be so busy I will MISS these days of being bored!

Wave of Light

Tonight we participated in the wave of light for pregnancy and infant loss. It was nice to take an extra moment to remember our boys, and honor all those precious babies lost during pregnancy or infancy. However, for us as parents, we don't need a special day for this. We remember our babies every day...every minute...every second. Many times, we (parents who have suffered a loss in pregnancy) may feel uncomfortable talking about these babies. People don't want to think about babies dying before they even take their first breath. But we want to talk about these babies...we want to share their story, the hopes and dreams we had. We want to talk about how perfect they were...how tiny but perfectly formed. And once you experience such a loss, you realize how many others in your circle of friends, family, coworkers, acquaintances have also experienced a similar loss.

I hope by sharing our story, we are helping to diminish that stigma, that awkwardness. The loss of a child at any stage is traumatic, and being able to talk and share can be very therapeutic and comforting. Let's open our hearts to those parents who have suffered miscarriages, stillbirths, or infant death. And let's remember all of these sweet angels with whom we will one day be reunited.

**If you follow our story and have suffered such a loss, feel free to share your child's name (if you were able to give them one) and your child's story!

Happy Half-Birthday to Henry

This morning, I woke up to a reminder, via Timehop, that today is Henry's half birthday.  One year ago, we were celebrating our sweet six-month-old.  At six months old, Henry was a rolling over pro (at least front to back), NOT a fan of baby cereal or bananas, sleeping through the night (except when he wasn't feeling well), he loved his toys (especially his musical turtle, his football, and of course his Mickey), playing in his exersaucer, on his play mats, and in his jumper, he liked books, lights, television...anything with lights and/or color.  Most of all, at six months old, Henry was a happy, smiley baby who brought joy to all who knew him.  He was happy whether he was snuggling with mom, playing with dad, hanging out at Grandma's, getting his picture taken at Grandpa's, or playing with his friends at Carrie's.


On this day last year, I never could have predicted how I would be spending this half birthday.  Instead of spending it with my 18-month-old, I spent a bit of it visiting my baby at the cemetery.  It was a beautiful afternoon...sunny, about 70 degrees, a light breeze.  I brought Henry's orange beach towel, and his favorite book.  I've never been a big cemetery visitor, so I felt a bit awkward as I spread out the towel and started to talk to the boys.  As I continued my conversation with them, though, it started to feel a bit more natural.  I read Henry's book (The Rattletrap Car...he loved the sounds the rattletrap car makes!) and spent a little time just chatting with both Henry and Brady. 

I enjoyed reading a book to my boys.  It felt natural...it's something I would be doing if they were here, and it's something I can do even though they are gone.  I've decided it's something I will continue to do.  I already have my next book picked out (I Need My Monster...how perfect!)  It will be something I can share with my boys...a way I can still be a mother and feel close to them.  I may not be able to snuggle them as I read, but I can share my love of books and some of my favorites with them.

Happy birthday, my sweet Henry.  I miss you today, and every day, but I know you are in a wonderful place, and that you have your older brother looking out for you.  We love you, monster!

The Love of a Bereaved Mother

I was inspired to write this post by an article I read earlier today on Still Standing (http://stillstandingmag.com/2015/10/bereaved-mothers-love/).  We all know the power of a mother's love...the power that allows us to get out of bed after being up with a fussy baby all night...the power that allows us to send our babies off to daycare, school, college...the power that allows us to hold our babies' hands when they are sick, have to get shots, get a broken bone fixed, an owie stitched up...the power that keeps us from hurting them when they do something wrong...the power that allows us to hand them off to a husband or wife. The power of a mother's (and father's) love is amazing.

But then there's the power of a bereaved mother's (and father's) love. It's a love that keeps burning even when we have nothing physical to love. It's a love that keeps burning despite the pain...the anguish...the tears. It's a love that grows stronger over time...a love that fills a space in our heart that can no longer be filled with hugs and kisses, trials and celebrations. It's a love that makes living worthwhile, even on the days when living seems like more than we can handle.

This was the sentence that stood out the most to me, "Death does not define me – it is life and this love that defines me." Brady's and Henry's deaths changed my life, and divided my life into before and after. But it's not their deaths that define me. Rather it is the love I have for both of them, their births that made me a mother twice over...that is what defines me. It reaffirms my work on finding the positive...I don't need to focus on the fact that my boys died...I can remember the fact that my boys lived.

Strength

I'm here at the Monster Mash Run/Walk and one of the main sponsors is Children's Hospital. They even have a Children's ambulance for kids to walk through. It's a beautiful morning, and a fun event, but it also brings back some pretty awful memories...seeing the look on the pediatrician's face when we brought Henry in that Monday...the flurry of activity to help him breathe while waiting for the ambulance...the sinking feeling of dread as they wheel him out of the office...and then seeing him hooked up to IVs and breathing treatments once I met them at the hospital.

It's a day and time of my life I hope never to repeat. After losing Brady, and even while Henry was in the hospital, I would say I can't handle losing another child. Obviously, that was not a true statement. Now what I say is that I HOPE never to experience something like that again. I know I am strong...I know I probably could handle it...but even thinking of those days when Henry was in the hospital puts a knot in my stomach. 

I know that worry and fear is a normal part of parenting, but my worries and fears are a bit different now. I worry about being able to carry a pregnancy to term. I worry that a sniffle or cough isn't just a sniffle or cough. I worry that I may not appreciate the time I'm given with loved ones enough. What I do know, though, is that when those fears come, we have the strongest support system. We have parents who would drop anything to help us, hold our hand, just be there for us. We have doctors that have been through the worst with us and won't assume our fears are just normal parental worry. We have bosses and coworkers who understand that once pregnant we'll be both excited and terrified. We have followers around the world who will send thoughts and prayers at a moment's notice. And, most importantly, we have the two cutest guardian angels looking out for us. With all that support, how could we feel anything but strong?

All He Knew Was Love

I came across this quote the other day, and it immediately made me think of Henry: "With life as short as a half-taken breath, don't plant anything but love," ~Rumi

I don't believe this quote was talking about short lives, but rather all lives. In the scheme of eternity, our lives here on earth are but the length of a half-taken breath. With such a short time, why waste it on anything but love? Henry just happened to be a lucky one, who truly only did know love. He will never know heartbreak, loss, disappointment, envy, or any of those other icky feelings we would like to avoid!

Thankfully, most of us are not as "lucky" as Henry...we get to experience life, including all the good and the bad. We can't avoid those icky feelings...life brings heartbreak, disappointment, loss, envy...but it also brings joy, happiness, love, accomplishment... We can't choose what life brings but we can choose how we respond.

So help us honor Henry...smile a little more often...love a little deeper...shout a little louder for those accomplishments, big or small! That's what we all should try to do for these short years we have together on earth.

The Green-Headed Monster

Jealousy...it's not a pretty feeling. It's ine we try to hide...to avoid acknowledging. Growing up, I was jealous of my friends who got the newest toys or were wearing the best brand name clothes. As I grew up, I was jealous of my friends who got brand new cars on their 16th birthdays. In college, I was jealous of all my friends who were getting engaged and married.

These days I'm jealous of things most people would never envy. I am jealous of friends with sick babies. I wish I had a sick baby to snuggle and worry over. I am jealous of friends whose babies are in the hospital. I wish I had something that important to get me out of bed every morning. I am jealous of my friends who are pregnant and uncomfortable. I would love to be up all night tossing and turning, trying to get comfy with a big belly. I am jealous of friends who are walking zombies because their little one kept them up all night. I wish I had something (other than my dogs barking) waking me up at night. I am even jealous of my fellow grieving parents who can't fully grieve because they want to be strong for their surviving child(ren).

Jealousy is a part of grief we often ignore, or avoid talking about. But it's one that is just as real as sadness, anger and despair. As grieving parents, especially, we want what all other parents have...a child to love. Even parents with surviving children may be jealous...they wish their surviving child or children could still interact with their dead child. They want their family to feel whole, instead of always feeling that missing piece. But we don't want to admit that we are jealous...it's not a feeling we want to have.

Instead of dwelling on jealousy, and wishing for things I don't have, I continue to try to focus on what I do have. Thinking back, if I had gotten all the best toys or a brand new car, I would not have appreciated having these things. (And believe me, I very much appreciated my 1984 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme that I got after I turned 17!) Had I gotten engaged and married in college, I probably would either be unhappy or divorced by now. We all know things happen for a reason and at just the right time, though that is not especially reassuring when you so desperately want something. So instead of dwelling on that, I appreciate my fur babies, my wonderful husband, and even "my" 400 kids at school. And until I can snuggle a baby of my own, I live vicariously through all the wonderful moms and dads that let me ogle over their sweet babies!