Miss you

Preparations

Three years ago tonight, Austin and I were preparing ourselves for the unthinkable. We were preparing for the next day, for the death of our child. We had nothing nice enough to wear to tell him goodbye so we had to go to Dillard's quickly before we went to the hotel to find something respectable to wear. I remember how panicked I was in Dillard's after I found something to wear but couldn't find Austin. I called and called him and couldn't get him to answer his phone. I physically panicked because I couldn't find him. It was only a few minutes but I still freaked. I was so unstable, so scared, so dependent on him to be okay. I feel a little bit like that tonight. I think about how incredibly sad it is to have had to tell my newborn son goodbye, body still bleeding from the birth, breasts swollen with the milk I was trying to stop producing. Three years out and I'm still so terribly broken. Some days, like today, I feel like I won't ever be okay. The grief seems so physical still, like a heavy iron weight strapped to my body. Every year, during the 13 days he lived, I almost feel like he's alive again. I can walk through the days of his life and I can remember so clearly what each day was. Yesterday, three years ago, I held my baby boy for the first time. He was 11 days old. Today, three years ago, Austin held Andrew for the first time. We wouldn't hold him again until he was dying. But, the 13th day always comes and he dies. Every year, he dies on the 13th day. I grieve him all over again. My body hurts, my chests hurts, my heart breaks into a million unfixable pieces. Oh, baby, if I could do things over, I'd do a million things different. I don't know if I could have saved you, but I would have tired harder, sweet boy. I'm so sorry I couldn't. I'm so sorry I didn't spend every second of your too short life by your side. I love you, baby boy.

Pieces of him

My family attended Charles and Lu's Christmas pageant tonight at their church...the church where, three years ago, Andrew's memorial service was held. Thomas was antsy so we left the service to listen from the hallway. The hallway looks out onto the courtyard where the remains of past church members are buried. It's a peaceful place where we once thought of putting Andrew's ashes, where the ashes of a friends twin baby girls rest. Thinking of Andrew, I lit a candle and said a quick prayer for my beautiful boy. Immediately after, I noticed a book enclosed in glass. It is turned to 2009, the year Andrew lived and died. I then saw his beautiful name. I sometimes feel so removed, so distant from him. I feel like he was there with me tonight, giving me peace. Thanks for the nudge, baby. Momma loves you.

3 years

Hey bitty boy, Today is your third birthday. Gosh, three. What a big boy. I look at the three year olds playing on the playground some mornings when I take baby brother to daycare. I can't imagine that being you. I want to know three year old you. Insert break...today is now December 16. 10 days after your third birthday. I sat down to write your birthday post on the night of your birthday and couldn't find the words to say. I'm still not sure I have them. What do I write? I don't have anything new to say. It's the same old I miss you, I love you, I wish you were here. I guess that's all that is really left to say anymore. That's one of the saddest parts. I'll always have something new to love about little Thomas, something new to say about him on each birthday that passes. You, little love, will forever remain a newborn baby who I never really got to know. I know who you might have been through your baby brother. I know you had his drive and strong will or we wouldn't have had those 13 beautiful days with you. Happy happy happy birthday, beautiful boy. I miss you more with every breath I take.

this happy year

We're a few weeks away from Thomas' first birthday. I can't believe how fast this first year has gone. I'm sure all mommas say that, but I really can't believe it. I feel like it was just yesterday that I was sitting in Dr. Dulaney's office listening to the inane babble of the nervous, young momma beside me. I was totally prepared for her to send me to the hospital to have Thomas, but totally unprepared at the same time. I remember being so scared and fluttery inside walking into the hospital last October, hoping I'd leave a happy mother at last. This past year, I can say with all confidence, has been the happiest year of my life. I feel like an ass saying that since my sweet sister has gone through quite possibly the worst year of her life at the same time. She'll read this, understand, and forgive me. I guess the year would have been happy regardless of my past, as I learned how to be a mother. However, I think my happiness is intensified in the wake of my all consuming grief over losing Andrew. The first few weeks of Thomas' life were such an emotional roller-coaster that I've never really written about here. Austin and I were both blind-sided by a new wave of grief right after T was born. We stared in the face all that we missed. Late nights we never had, baths we never gave, tiny booties we never wiped. So so much. The fullness of our days and nights screamed at us the emptiness of the past two years. I had real trouble nursing...Thomas, as most of you know, is a big kid and therefore, a big eater. My milk didn't come in very quickly and I couldn't bear to hear him scream, I was so afraid that something was wrong with him. I know now that I was projecting my fears onto him and that I needed to relax, maybe let him cry a little and breathe. I wasn't taking care of myself, wasn't sleeping and was fretting my days away, all of which does nothing for a good milk supply. I gave in and supplemented with formula and pumped for 8 weeks. I hated hated hated the pump. It smelled like the two weeks we were in the hospital with Andrew and reminded me of everything that made my skin crawl during those two weeks. It gave me the same helpless feeling of failure and of being not enough for my babies. Again, this doing nothing for one's milk supply. I powered through thanks to my sweet baby, and my family. I still feel guilt and regret over the nursing situation, but I guess what's done is done...fretting over it won't do any good. So, the happiness...oh, the happiness. My body physically hurts sometimes when I look at my little Thomas, I love him so much. I love to mother him, would do anything anything anything for him. He's really the sweetest, most loving little strong willed baby around. He is a joy to be around and I love to watch his little mind figure things out. Every day, he learns something new and I'm completely in awe that I get to be his mother. I read something the other day on Pinterest (I'm a nerd) about mothers and sons. The thing that stuck with me said that "you will always be home to him." How wonderful to be that for someone! My heart is so full. What a crazy life...I have experienced in the last three years the happiest and the saddest years of my life. Hands down. Thomas is the deep cleansing breath that I so desperately needed in all of 2010. Many times since my precious Andrew was born, I wondered if I could make it through, whether I could take one more step, breathe one more breath. My little Thomas gave me new life. His beautiful birth birthed a new Lindsey. I feel whole again. This isn't to say that something isn't missing from my life...there will always always be a GIANT something missing. I have learned though that my new complete embraces this missing. In fact, I wouldn't be complete without it. So, I'll end as I normally do, with one simple addition. To my two sweet boys, thank you for letting me be your momma. Thank you both for teaching me how to grieve, how to heal, and how to truly love with no limits. I am so proud of our sweet family of four.

where it wanders

It's always in the car...I have time to think, to decompress, to be alone. Usually on my way home from work. My mind wanders and always ends up in the same place. Drewbie. I love that it always wanders to him, but it hurts so much too. I am realizing so much these days all that I won't ever have. I can't describe the love I feel for little Thomas...it is such an active love. It has purpose and weight...like it is an actual thing. I won't ever have that with my Andrew. It is a breathy, weightless love that doesn't have anywhere to land. I don't have anyplace to put it and so it lands on my cheeks when I cry on the way home. I realize more and more how this never ends. I think of my grandmother whose son died when he was 9...50 years ago. Does she still think of what might have been? I don't know how she couldn't. Miss you baby boy...

Thomas' place

I've started a new blog...I want to talk about my everyday life and, so far, I haven't been able to do that here. I guess if I'd kept this blog up everyday instead of only writing sporadically, I'd be able to integrate my daily life into this. I'll still write here as often as I have, but it will only be a place for my Drewbie. I'd love for you all to follow me on my new blog. www.mitchells234.blogspot.com

together

I find myself back here far more often than I would have thought. My heart is still so sad...I feel so far away, like my Drewbie was a dream. For so long, I felt like he was real...like he was alive in the openness and freshness of my grief. I talked about him, people asked about him. Now...nothing. No one speaks of him much. Not that I fault anyone. I think that's just the way of it. He's gone and he's been gone for quite some while now. I used to feel free to express my sadness openly and now it feels wrong. I come here to write what I don't think anyone still reads. I don't even think I need anyone to read it like I once did. I think I'm glad I still need to come here, need to read other's stories. I think a part of me will always live in those 13 days and the few months that followed when my every thought was consumed with Andrew's death. I'll be this hidden Lindsey that I will continue to feed by coming here. I may not write as often as I used to, but I still come here every EVERY day to read. I read old blogs I wrote, I read other mommas' stories. I think of those whose stories and babes helped me feel less crazy and like I belonged somewhere. A part of my heart will always live here in this spot that is only mine and my Drewbie's. It may only make sense to me, but I feel like we are together here...like I am his momma here. Good night, baby angel...I hope you feel my love.

Not my first

Mother's Day is tomorrow. People look at me and smile and say, "Oh, how sweet...your first Mother's Day!" I smile and nod and gush about how I think that is just the sweetest thing too. But I want to yell and tell them how it is not sweet, it is not my first. My sweetest oldest is invisible to the the world...forgotten or unknown to most. He is the reason I am a mother. His precious 8lb 10oz soul made me one two short years ago. I hate that I have to pretend that he never was...it makes my skin crawl...makes me sick to my core. What mother should ever have to dismiss her child's very existence? I do and it makes me so so angry. The people who count in my life will remember him and give me an extra squeeze tomorrow, but I am realizing more than ever that the world doesn't want to know about Andrew. There isn't room in polite society for dead babies. No one wants to hear such a sad story. I know my place and I rarely rarely bring him up to people who don't know (hence the smiling, nodding, gushing) but sometime it just makes me angry. Sweet, oldest baby...thank you for being my boy. Thank you for staying with me for as long as you could. Thank you for still hanging around in my dreams. Your soul is forever wrapped up in mine and I'll never never forget you. Even when I say for the thousandth time that Thomas is my first...you and I know different and I know you wouldn't mind my lie. I love you bitty boy.

surreal

A friend had an emergency C section yesterday at 31 weeks. Mom and Baby are great...best outcome for the circumstances and I couldn't be happier for her. My mind is flooded with memories of my Andrew. I went to the hospital to be with her family while she was in surgery. I had to walk into the room...like THE room where I had my precious boy. I didn't realize it at first because I was so worried about Shelley and because I didn't have my glasses on when I had Andrew so I don't have many memories of actually going into the room. But I remember everything else.

Here comes the ugly part of my soul that I can only bare here. How did my situation turn out so differently? How does my perfect full-term baby die and how do others live? I feel like such a terrible person writing these words because I love my friend and her beautiful new family with every bit of my heart. But it is with every bit of my very broken heart. I have such a wonderful gift in my sweet babe Thomas, but I am still broken...still terribly incomplete. I always will be. Knowing this makes me angry, sad, and left feeling helpless. I miss my precious oldest. I can't ever say this enough. It's all I have, the missing. Love you tiny precious.

Sweet blessings

My sister invited Thomas and I over for dinner tonight. We played and had fun laying on a pallet outside in the sun while Corinne and the kids raked leaves. Supper time came and we held hands for the blessing. Charles prayed first and thanked God for the meal that his momma cooked and for the great time they'd had this weekend. Lulu prayed next and prayed for the people in the war, especially her daddy. Then she prayed for Baby Andrew, asking God to please take care of him up there and to ask him to always watch over his little brother. I don't know what any of us have done to deserve these two wonderful people in our lives. They are so genuine, caring, thoughtful, and full of honest love. I'm so blessed that they love me and that I can be their aunt. My sweet little Thomas is so lucky to have them to look up to and learn from. I can only hope he turns out just like them.

Sweetest Andrew, I hope you heard Elise. I hope you know how much we miss you and wish you were here. I hope you can watch over your sweet little brother and can protect him from whatever is out there that could harm him. I couldn't bear losing you both. I was holding him tonight, after we got home from Corinne's, rocking him to sleep. He looks EXACTLY like you when he sleeps. I just started crying, thinking how lucky I am to have him...how lucky I was to have you, no matter how long. Love you bitty boy.

where I am now

February 1, 2012...so far away from December 6, 2009 and December 19, 2009. My days are filled with pointy tongued smiles and slobber. My sweet babe is teething and smiling and laughing. He's even sweet when his teeth are bothering him. I feel so lucky...so grateful and aware of what I have. I can't look at Thomas without this intense rush of thankfulness. He has no idea how healing he is for me. He has such a kind nature, so quietly sweet and smart. I love being his momma, love taking care of him. Austin and I have settled into a very comfortable routine with Thomas...things are easy here in our house. It is filled with a quiet warmth. I am so aware of it after having gone so long with a house filled with desperate sadness. I won't say that it isn't sad sometimes. I still cry very often about Andrew. I still miss him with every ounce of my being, but I have made room for happy. I kind of feel a little bit like I've re-entered "normal."

I kind of don't know what type of space this is for me anymore. I'm a very visual person and I've always had a picture in my mind of what my blog "space" looked like. I don't know what that is anymore. I try to come here to write simply about Thomas and our daily life, but I'm unable. This is Andrew's home and I don't need to force it to become something else. I can't come here and not make it about him. I guess that's okay since this has always been his place.

So, here I am. February 1, 2012 and I still need this place for Andrew. I may not come here as often as I once did and I think that's okay. But I'll always come, if not to write, to read. To wallow, to cry, to heal. Love you bitty boy.