Right Where I Am: 3 Years, 9 Months, 4 Weeks, 1 Day

I'm a little late posting this but I really wanted to do this RWIA post for 2014.

Right where I am today is incredibly close to 4 years since I met and said goodbye to my sweet Aiden. One thing that has not changed in all this time is that it still feels unreal to be living without him. And there is not a day that goes by without me thinking of and missing him. Grief is real. And it's hard. And it never goes away. It's always there waiting to rise back to the surface. I am still grieving my son and I will be for the rest of my life.

I think from the outside we must look pretty normal to people. There are always two amazing and active little boys floating around us. And by floating I mean running, crashing into things, laughing really loud, fighting over toys, and having meltdowns. That's floating right- haha :) Just the fact that I find things in life to be fun and funny and happy- that is a huge change from when I wrote my first RWIA post. I also think in a lot of ways we are as normal as we can possibly be. You know without our missing child.

I really have found joy again. My days are spent chasing boys, tripping over dump trucks and legos, trying desperately to find what I'm looking for in my purse/diaper bag, cooking millions of turkey dogs and chicken nuggets, giving multiple baths a day, and trying to squeeze some mama time in there somewhere (although that doesn't happen most days). I'm also working full time 5 days a week. I'm worn out and tired at the end of each day but really it is the best kind of tired ever. I love Mason and Caden so much- sometimes I look at them and immediately big hot tears form in my eyes because I love them with this huge crazy love. I am so happy they are here, and mine, and I get to kiss and squeeze them. Every smile lights up my heart. They bring me happiness I never imagined would be possible again. The only thing that could make it better is if I were chasing 3 boys around. 

Right now there are so many things I want to do. I want to be able to write again and in fact I'm making myself a promise to try to write at least once a week. Even if I don't finish it right then maybe I can try to get back to posting a little more regularly. I've been wanting to write a book forever and now seems as good a time as any to pick my notes back up and get to it. My quiet moments are few and far between these days but early early morning seems to be my best hope.  

I also am working on finally decorating my house. That's a pretty big deal for me. We built this house in 2010 for Aiden and moved in 3.5 months before he was born. The only room that was ever completely decorated before his birthday was his nursery. After he passed away I just couldn't bring myself to finish unpacking or to decorate anything else. Honestly I really didn't care about the damn house. I just wanted my baby back. Now though feels like the right time to create an even more special space for my family. So I'm busy looking at fabrics and furniture and colors as well as creating boards to plan out what I want each room to look like. I'm trying to do some of it myself to save money where I can so projects are all over the place. Anyone want to paint some curtains with me??? 

Outside of my family my BLM tribe is my lifeline. When things get bad they are there. When things are good they celebrate with me. I look forward to seeing them on Instagram every day. Seeing what is going on with of all our rainbows and my dear friends makes me smile. I can't imagine life without these women who truly get the complicated tangle of love, grief, happiness, and crazy that rolls around inside me each day. I love that they will all forever remember Aiden with me. That they speak his name and mention him in every day talks just like they do Mason and Caden. That we can have conversations about fabulous Target sales and food but also grief and sadness. I am so grateful because in the midst of my grief and sadness I'm not alone. I have friends who love me and who love each of my babies as well.

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A few mornings ago Mase was sitting in my bed eating some fruit (I'm sure that surprises no one- ha!) while we were finishing up our morning get ready routine. As he sat facing my mirror he suddenly said "That's my big brother Aiden. He lives in Heaven." My breath caught and I looked up to see him point to the picture of Aiden on our dresser. "Yes baby," I said, "that is your big brother Aiden." Mase looked at me with a smile on his face and said, "Yep I love Aiden. That's my brother." 

I wanted to cry with joy- to hear Aiden's name come from Mason's mouth and to hear that he loves him. Oh my heart. It's in moments like these that I realize I'm doing something right. My sons will always know their older brother. They will always speak his name. They will carry him in their hearts just as Nygel and I do. 

Aiden is incredibly missed and loved every.single.day. That will never change. We will never stop talking about him with each other and sharing him with those around us. And we are so grateful for the family and friends that keep his memory alive with us. 

I love you Aiden 

This Is How I Feel.....

I wanted to share this article that has been circulating around the Baby Loss community. I saw it for the first time a few weeks ago and it describes perfectly so many feelings I've experienced in the last year since losing Aiden. This pain will never "go away" as some people like to think. Although any parent that has lost a child already completely understands this I thought it was important to post for anyone else who hasn't experienced this kind of loss.......

The Heartbreak of Infant Loss

By Laura Schubert

Did you know that October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month? I'll bet not. Despite the infant mortality crisis that's been at the forefront of Milwaukee's public health news for months, the only people who have more than a cursory comprehension of what it means to lose a baby are those who've lived it.

Infant loss is nature's cruelest practical joke. It's investing all of the required time and effort into pregnancy, only to be robbed of the result. It's cradling a body that grew within your own and trying to reconcile the cold, lifeless form in your arms with your memory of the baby who turned double flips in your womb.

It's worrying that you'll forget what your child looked like and snapping an album's worth of photos that no one will ever ask to see. It's sobbing so hard you can't breathe and wondering if it's possible to cry yourself to death.

Infant loss is handing off a Moses basket to the nurse who's drawn the unfortunate duty of delivering your pride and joy to the morgue and walking out of a hospital with empty arms.

It's boxing up brand new baby clothes and buying a 24-inch casket. It's sifting through sympathy cards, willing your foolish body to stop lactating, clutching your baby's blanket to your chest in hopes of soothing the piercing ache in your heart.

It's resisting the urge to smack the clueless individuals who compare your situation to the death of their dog or who tell you you'll have another baby, as if children are somehow replaceable.

Infant loss is explaining to your 7-year-old that sometimes babies die and being stumped into silence when she asks you why. It's watching other families live out your happy ending and fighting a fresh round of grief with every milestone you miss.

It's being shut out of play groups for perpetuity. It's skipping social events with expectant and newly minted mothers because, as a walking worst-case scenario, you don't want to put a damper on the party.

It's listening to other women gripe about motherhood and realizing that you no longer relate to their petty parental complaints because, frankly, when you've buried a baby, a sleepless night with a vomiting toddler sounds something like a gift.

Infant loss is pruning from your life the friends and relatives who ignore or minimize your loss. It's recognizing that, while they may not mean to be hurtful, the fact that they don't know any better doesn't make their utter lack of empathy one whit easier to bear.

My baby girl would have been 5 years old this month. I don't know what she'd look like, what her favorite food would be. I've never had the privilege of tucking her into bed, taking her to the zoo or kissing her boo-boos. I will never watch her graduate or walk down the aisle.

Infant loss is more than an empty cradle. It's a life sentence.

A Quick Post

Hey everyone!  *Waving hi*  I just have to say thank you so much for all your sweet words on my post the other day.  I was really struggling that day and as always you guys lifted me up with your love and care.  So thank you again......you all mean the world to me! Thank goodness I'm doing a little better today :) I know my little Aiden is staying close to me as well.

I wanted to post really quickly in between my meetings about my surprise with Tiffany that I mentioned the other day! In case you haven't heard the big news-------Tiffany is joining me as the second Online Community Organizer for Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope! That's right people! You get two of us for the price of one! HA! I am soooooooooooo excited about this!!! I asked Kristin if I could have someone help me with the online projects for you guys and not only did she say yes BUT she also let me have someone I admire and love to fill the spot- my Tiffany!

So we are partners in crime now- T & T! LOL!!! Tiffany and I have so many good things in store for the online BLM community and we can't wait to share it with you all! If you have anything special you want to see us do for you please shoot an e-mail to me at Natasha@facesofloss.com.

Stay tuned for our next online community event.........you are gonna LOVE it!!!!!!

Strong

Love this!!!  Thank you so much Julie at Joy's Hope for this fabulous piece of word art!  I know this is so true for myself and all the other amazing BLMs I know.  Sending lots of love this Sunday morning!

3 Months Today

Wow.....3 months ago I delivered my precious baby boy- stillborn. I can't believe that much time has passed already. It's crazy how time seems to have stood still over the last 3 months. You ever feel like that? Like you're frozen in time and everything else is moving around you? I think it's like that for people who experience baby loss. My husband describes the same feeling to me when talking about the time immediately following Aiden's death.

A really sweet BLM told me that after she lost her twin baby girls her father described her as being in a fog. And slowly pieces of her began to emerge from the fog. Little pieces of herself....but changed. That's how I feel- I'm slowly coming back but I'm changed....forever. Thank you so much Sarah for sharing that with me :)

I miss Aiden so much. I think that even though I'm getting better I will still have bad days for awhile and I'm ok with that. I may still have bad days 30 years from now. I'll never be completely over losing my son...how could I be? But slowly I think the waves of sadness will come less frequently and the new me- the stronger me- will continue to survive.

Aiden,

If only I could hold you in my arms one last time. I wish I could hug you and kiss you. I wish I could whisper in your ear how much I love you. I pray that you know you are forever in my heart. I can't wait to dance with you in my dreams again soon! I love you my sweet miracle angel baby.....forever and ever.

Love,

Mommy

I also want to take a moment to tell my fabulous mom happy birthday! Thank you Mummy for ALWAYS being there for me. We would not have made it through the last 3 months without you. I love you! You have made me who I am today and I'm proud to be your daughter.