Thursday, December 16, 2010

25 Days of Giveaways - Day 17

CONGRATULATIONS to Trena (I drew your name for the Angel) and to Teresa (I drew your name for the Silver Tissue Holder). Ladies, I will e-mail you shortly!

First and foremost, I want to thank Tina, who is behind all of these great giveaways. I remember entering quite a few of the giveaways held last year and thinking to myself that if there was any way for me to "pay it forward", that I would. If there was any way for me to make the holiday just a little bit more bearable for another mommy, that I would. So, I threw my name into the hat to host this year and then I got a little intimidated.

You see, this community is so full of women (and men) who are rich with talent and skilled in so many ways that I envy. I thought to myself, what will I possibly giveaway on my blog? I don't really "make" things, I'm not really crafty. But what I can do (and do well, might I add) is shop. So here's what I'm offering up for my giveaway.

I bought the most beautiful angel the other day, a Jim Shore hand-painted Angel of Bereavement Figurine. You can click over to the site to see it for yourself, but I don't think the picture does it much justice. So I've included a few pictures of my own:

I hope whoever wins loves her as much as I do! And for a lucky second winner, I also have this beautiful tissue holder. Perfect size to toss into your purse because, it seems to me, you just never know when you could use a Kleenex. Take a look. You could even have it engraved with your baby(ies) name/birthdate, your favorite verse, or whatever tickles your fancy:

To enter, all you have to do is leave a comment on this post. Tell me anything. Tell me what's on your mind. Tell me when the last time your cried was (tell me what made you cry). If you feel so inclined, you can follow my blog as well. Meet my sweet Dylan through my [usually random, yet unusually witty] posts. 1 extra entry for following (leave a 2nd comment).

Monday, December 6, 2010

The Recovery

A former collegue of mine told me that he had a rough weekend, and I thought to myself, "Did you have a hard time finding a spot at the mall?" (I didn't really think this before he went on with his story, but I do realize that I have become quite cynical. Babyloss just has a way of forcing one to put things into perspective, but I digress.)

What came out of his mouth next totally caught me off-guard. "My wife and I lost our baby on Saturday," he said matter-of-factly.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," I managed.

"She was 5 months along," and he pulled out his phone to show me a picture. Without hesitation, he shared the pictures just like any proud daddy would.

"I'm not sure if you know this, but our firstborn died," I shared.

He hadn't known. He looked surprised actually.

"Well, you look fine. How was the recovery?" he asked.

"Physically or emotionally?" I clarified.

"Emotionally," he said (I was kind of dreading that he'd say that).

I had to pause to avoid scaring him, but I didn't want to sugarcoat the situation. I simply said, "Well, emotionally, I'm still healing. I will never be the same. It never really goes away, but it does get better. "

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

"The Sharp Knife of a Short Life"

A girlfriend of mine posted this on her Facebook page, and I just wanted to share. Not all of it is relevant but some of the lines were quite poignant (like the one I grabbed for the title of this post; this is not the original video, I just had to grab one that would actually play):

I also wanted to thank Katy and Kristie from Anchored By Hope for creating this beautiful Memorial Page for Dylan for The Sketchbook Project. It's amazing. Thank you again ladies!

by Katrina

We painted walls and washed the sheets
We hung the mobile high

We bought you clothes and hung them up
And now, we just ask "why?"

You never got to see your room
Or stare up at those walls

You never got to wear those clothes
Or walk through those halls

You never got to call it home
The hospital was all you knew

And then you grew your angel wings
Because Heaven is home for you.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Let There Be Light

For Dylan (June 11, 2008-June 17, 2008) . On this October 15th, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Rememberance Day, I remember you. I honor you. I miss you dearly. I don't really have the right words sometimes, but I hope the pictures speak enough of my heart (and the song is just for good measure, plus I one of my favorites from church).

Lord the Light of Your Love is shining,
In the midst of the darkness shining,
Jesus light of the world shine upon us,
Set us free by the truth You now bring us,
Shine on me. Shine on me.

Shine Jesus shine
Fill this land with the Father's glory
Blaze, Spirit blaze,
Set our hearts on fire
Flow, river flow
Flood the nations with grace and mercy
Send forth Your word
Lord and let there be light.

Lord I come to Your awesome presence,
From the shadows into Your radiance,
By the blood I may enter Your brightness,
Search me, try me, consume all my darkness,
Shine on me. Shine on me.

As we gaze on Your kindly brightness.
So our faces display Your likeness.
Ever changing from glory to glory,
Mirrored here may our lives tell Your story.
Shine on me. Shine on me.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

A Short Rant

For whatever reason, I've always been obssessed with watching TLC's "A Baby Story". I don't as much anymore because I get easily worked up over statements like:

"I knew that she was a special baby, that she really was a fighter, and that she wanted to be with us as much as we wanted to be with her."

I hear these things from a mother arriving at home with her baby (who spent her first 7 days of life in the NICU). While it does pull at my heartstrings, I feel my mind quickly go into a defensive stance: "Does this imply that Dylan wasn't a fighter. That he just didn't want to be with us or that we didn't want him enough?"

Oh the places my brain will go. It just sucks, it really does.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Faith, A Blessing

A picture is worth a thousand words. We were blessed to have James Adam Hill shoot the pictures for our daughter's one-year. Blessed? Yes, they're just pictures, but he's not just any photographer. He's the Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep photographer that came to the hospital two years ago to take pictures of Dylan. James has now photographed both of our children. So, you see, it's kind of significant to me to be blessed to have this picture (in every detail of it, down to the "little sister" tee):

Friday, June 11, 2010

Happy 2nd Birthday Dylan!

This morning, I went to work. That's not all that unusual, but I haven't been to work on June 11th in 2 years now. That's because two years ago on this date, Dylan was born. And one year ago on this date, I was out on maternity leave with Faith.

So, there I was, my first June 11th in 2 years. All in all, I survived. I managed my heavy heart, as I oftentimes do, and got all my work done. One of my co-workers stopped by my office and just wanted to hug me. Another called my extension to tell me that she was just thinking about me. One of my best friends sent flowers to my office. I'm blessed. I was blanketed by love and support from calls, e-mails, texts, FB messages, comments on this blog, etc. I have nothing but gratitude for it all.

And I know that I haven't expressed all the gratitude that I've held in my heart for so long. Many people have done so much and have helped in their own special ways:

Thank you Crystal for the Wednesday's Child frame,
the flowers you sent today,
and all of your thoughtfulness always:
Thank you Liz for your generosity and always making
a donation to Children's Healthcare of Atlanta in Dylan's name:Thank you Katy for the sweet note
and the beautiful plaque (that I cherish so very much):
Thank you Jen for your kind words:
"We'll never forget that special little guy
and the empty space he left in our family."

I have so many people to thank for so many different things, that I could spend hours and hours listing them out. We are so very blessed to have this kind of support today and always. I am forever humbled by you all. Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SWEET ANGEL SON! WE LOVE YOU SO VERY MUCH AND MISS YOU ALWAYS! HOPE YOU'RE PARTYING IT UP IN HEAVEN! :)

Here's another video for your viewing pleasure:

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Two Days til Two Years

Dylan's 2nd Birthday would've (yes, I could say is, but it feels admittedly odd to me to still "celebrate" it as if he's right here with us) been this coming Friday. In alot of ways, I still feel just like I did in this post, that it's looming over me with anxiety and despair.

I am slowly making my way through Elizabeth McCracken's book "An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination", and there are so many great quotes from there that have stopped me in my tracks:

"You move on from it, but the death will never disappear from view. Your friends may say, Time heals all wounds. No, it doesn't, but eventually you'll feel better. You'll be yourself again. Your child will still be dead."

"I'm not ready for my first child to fade into history."

"grief lasts longer than sympathy, which is one of the tragedies of the grieving"

I get it. I get it all. We're on the cusp of 2 years now, and [many] people will want me to stop mentioning him. I'm going back and forth on whether or not I'll update my Facebook status to wish my [dead] son a Happy Birthday, just like all of the other mothers do on their kids' birthdays. Only mine will end with some sort of sad, sad tag like "and I miss you so much" or "I hope you're partying it up in Heaven". Do they do that? Have parties in Heaven?

I'm not sure that people will be sympathetic anymore. And is that what I really want/need? For people to still be sympathetic? Because whether or not people [still or have ever] acknowledge my reality, it happened. I was pregnant with Dylan. He was born. He died. And for that, I will be forever in grief. You don't just wake up one day and say, "Okay, it's been x-amount of time now, I'm good!" I don't think that will ever happen, and I'm not sure I would ever want it to.

So, until Friday, shed a tear for us, think of us, pray for us. It's been a rough journey, and it's far from over. It blows my mind and breaks my heart to think that we should have a 2-year-old running around this house.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

I Can Relate

The following lines are excerpts from last night's One Tree Hill (they're a series of conversations that one of the characters is having with her dead mother . . . I heard her words and completely understood):

I know you're gone and you're not coming back, but I was just thinking that maybe somehow I could see you again or be able to talk to you or hear your voice.

It all just seems so fake. This idea that good things happen to good people and there's magic in the world, and the meek and righteous will inherit it. There's too many good people who suffer for something like that to be true. There are too many prayers that get unanswered. Everyday, we ignore how completely broken this world is. And we tell ourselves it's all gonna be okay, "You're gonna be okay!" But it's not okay, and once you know that, there's no going back. There's no magic in the world. At least not today there isn't.

I was thinking about the finality of it all. How somebody can leave your world in the blink of an eye and be gone forever. It's uh . . . it's too enormous to think about. It's too hard. And then you're just supposed to go on, right? Like just deal with it. I mean really, you're supposed to be sad for about as long as the flowers last. And then, oh, time to go back to telling jokes and reminiscing about the old days. I don't have any jokes to tell. As a matter of fact, I hope I never hear another joke as long as I live. And the old days are just that, they're old days that are gone.

I have to tell myself to just be happy, but I don't feel happy. And when I try to change it, when I try to remember what being happy felt like, I can't. I don't feel joy. I don't feel inspired. I feel numb.

Everyday we ignore how truly broken this world is, and we tell ourselves that it's all going to be okay. But it's not gonna be okay, I know that now.


"Our lives are difficult. And our loss unbearable sometimes. So grieve. And struggle. And you find your way back on your own terms and in your own way. But remember this, [our children] would want us to be vibrant and inspiring in the face of losing [them]. They'd want us to fight our pain with all we've got."

Monday, May 10, 2010

Dedicated to Mommies

I realize I'm a day late for Mother's Day, but I think it goes without saying that you never need a special day to celebrate mothers. I got this card on the way out of church yesterday, and I wanted to dedicate it to all the great mothers out there who read this blog:

The Most Important Person
on earth is a mother. She
cannot claim the honor of
having built Nortre Dame
Catherdral. She need not. She
has built something more
magnificent than any
cathedral-a dwelling for an
immortal soul, the tiny
perfection of her baby's
body...The angels have not
been blessed with such a
grace. They cannot share in
God's creative miracle to bring
new saints to Heaven. Only a
human mother can. Mothers
are closer to God the Creator
than any other creature; God
joins forces with mothers in
performing this act of
creation...What on God's
good earth is more glorious
than this: to be a mother?

-Joseph Cardinal Mindszenty

Happy Belated Mother's Day!

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Things That Make You Go, "Hmm"

I heard this line in a movie trailer that I watched yesterday, and I just had to share:

"Misery is easy.
Happiness, you have to work at."

I also love this quote from Winnie the Pooh:

"Sometimes the smallest things
take up the most room in your heart."

I heard another great quote this morning:

"Death is not the greatest
loss in the world.
The greatest loss is what dies
inside of us while we live."

Wednesday, April 7, 2010


I hate feeling that. I hate that when I hear that somebody's baby is coming home from the NICU, the first thing that I think is not, "That's great, that's amazing, God is good!"

Rather, the first thought that comes into my head is, "That's not fair. Dylan never got to come home. We never had that moment. The doctors and the nurses never got excited for us."

I hate feeling that.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010


Borrowed from a fellow blogger:

"Anyone can give up,
it's the easiest thing in the world to do.
But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength."

Monday, April 5, 2010

Happy Easter Dylan!

Every holiday without you is difficult. It's just another cruel reminder of your physical absence. But on Easter, unlike any other holiday, I feel the peace of knowing that you are safe in the arms of Jesus. (It's a far better place to be, and I pray nightly that I may be reunited with you in Heaven one day, my dear.)

A great big hug to all the babylost mommas (and daddies, of course) who celebrated without your angels yesterday. And a very, special thank you to Michelle from Missing Juanito for this precious little gem:

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

E-Mails Never Sent

Have you ever written an e-mail and just hovered over the send button? I've done it before (many times), gotten worked up over something, written a scathing e-mail, and eventually thought better of it, never sending it to its destination. In most cases, the mere act of writing the e-mail made me feel better. I just came across one of those e-mails (I wrote this when I was pregnant with Faith, with hormones raging and obviously alot on my mind):

While I can appreciate what you're trying to do and you're truly altruistic view of people, you can't just group "mothers" and "maternal people" in the same category and you also can't group people who don't have kids with people who have kids with people who've lost kids. People who've never experienced the loss of a child only have a certain capacity of understanding and sadness for what I've gone through. They can't imagine it, they can't put themselves into my situation and be as empathetic as you'd like to think. Sympathy, sure . . . empathy, probably never. It irritates me that you think I'm not being positive about these moments that I've experienced, moments that you have not been there for. You have NO RIGHT to tell me how I should be feeling. Yes, you're just the outsider. And your optimistic point of view may be due to the fact that you've NEVER lost a child or experienced any of the situations that I'm talking about. You've never been on the other side of that conversation, when you experience the visible discomfort in people's eyes after I've told them that my son has passed away. Even if there's sadness behind their reaction, it's still something they didn't want or expect to hear and, for the most part, it's something that they don't want to discuss further. It's awkward. Children aren't supposed to die before their parents. So how, exactly, do you make the best out of that situation? I wasn't talking about any kind of people, I was talking about all people. What's happened to us is a freak of nature. No one, except those who've been through it themselves, can ever feel comfortable with that situation.

One of the worse things to say to a person experiencing pregnancy after loss is "well everything is going to be fine this time around" or "this baby will be completely healthy". It negates what I've just been through and makes my pregnancy easier for you to swallow, not me. I'm still anxious all the time, I'm still thinking about the distinct possibility that anything could go wrong at anytime. It's not because I'm being a pessimist, it's because I've been there and I know it can happen. If you want to tell me that I'll learn something as a parent this time around, fine. I know I will be learning new things as a parent everyday for the rest of my life. But don't word it like you have NO IDEA about my last pregnancy or about Dylan. For all intents and purposes, I already consider myself a mother. There's no telling me, "WHEN you become a mother. . . " Again, if you do that, you've just written off my son and his life.

You keep reminding me that I'm not being positive or optimistic about any of this. That really hurts and irritates me. You have NO idea, and I can see that in your reaction. More often than not, I give people the benefit of the doubt. What you read on my blog happens to be those times when I just can't. Most people have written both Justin and I off and do not even address it anymore. Fine. That's perfectly fine. They don't know what to say, and THAT I can understand. But I most certainly cannot understand, nor should I have to, the people that find it necessary to say something that completely writes off our experience and what we've been through. WE'VE HAD A CHILD! WE ARE PARENTS! Do I really have to explain that to you? There's no fresh, optimistic approach to looking at childloss. It sucks. And Justin and I have done an incredible job healing and moving on with our lives, never forgetting, and also integrating Dylan into our daily existence. You can't imagine. You can't! Everyone is naive to the situation, do you know something that I don't know? Did someone else experience this? I have been so open-minded about what people say to me. I try not to be hyper-sensitive about all of it. The things that end up on my blog are major to me, obviously big enough for me to write about. I don't just publish posts about how irritated I am everyday, about how for the most part people have found it customary to just sidestep or ignore or avoid situations where they have to talk about Dylan. That's my life, I've come to accept it. I don't expect people to understand, I expect better of my friends that they could have a greater sensitivity towards what we've been through and are continuing to go through EVERY, SINGLE DAY of our lives. Not for our own friends to say things like, "Oh, you'll know when you have kids." or "Maybe you should have a more positive outlook." WTF!

Monday, March 1, 2010

A Positive Side of Loss

Okay, you know how I love lists (and apparently quizzes), so I will answer the question posed by the Butterfly Mommies blog in list form.

What positive things have come from the loss of your baby?

5. Writing - It has been so therapeutic and healing to return to my writing roots. While I hate that my crippling pain and grief had to exist in order for me to have something to write about, I am honored to share Dylan's story in this way.

4. Community - While the stories that I've come across have ranged from somewhat similar to radically different, the common bond that babylost parents share and the friendships that result from "meeting" in this way have proven extremely helpful. When you're constantly surrounded by people in real life who have no idea what you're going through or no idea what to say to you, it's both calming and refreshing to be reminded that I'm not alone in this journey and that it's absolutely okay to grieve how I need to.

3. Perspective - The little things are just that, little. I've learned not to sweat the small stuff, and I've learned that I don't fear much anymore. I've faced the absolute worst that this world can throw my way - outliving a child.

2. Character - I am strong, I am a survivor. Losing Dylan proved that to me like nothing else could. From the grace that I exhibited in the face of adversity to the hope and courage that I had to find in order to survive a pregnancy after loss, I've certainly grown as an individual.

1. Faith - As Justin so eloquently put it the other day, "Dylan put us right with God." Truth be told, I know that I still have alot of questions when it comes to God and why things happen the way they do, but I am closer to God. I'm getting there, I'm no where near perfect. I know, at the end of the day, there's nothing I want more than to live my life so that I may end up reunited with Dylan in Heaven one day.

A Blog Parade!

It's a blog party and a "Getting to Know You"-type session, and I love doing these because it's easier to answer a few questions than to start writing on a blank page. I'm always the one that my friends say is the Most Likely to Respond!

1. What's your favorite time of the day, and why? My favorite time of day is late evening because I'm home from work, enjoying dinner with the fam, and just unwinding from whatever stresses I've faced in the day. I've always been a self-proclaimed night-owl anyway.

2. If health wasn't an issue, what food could you live off of? I could absolutely live off of PASTA, particularly my mom's spaghetti with meatsauce or lasagna. Mmm, just the thought of it makes me want to get some right now.

3. If you could have one wish granted (besides wishing for more wishes), what would it be? The first thing that pops into my head is just so automatic (and the reason why I put it on this blog). I would absolutely wish that Dylan was conceived and born without any medical problems. That he could be here now, healthy and happy, and turning 2 this year.

4. What's one thing that you get teased about a lot? I get teased about my height (or lack thereof). I'm just barely grazing 5-ft, so of course I get called "shorty" or "'lil bit" alot. And I'm always the shortest in every picture . . .

5. If you could choose one movie, book, or TV show to spend your life in, which would you pick? What type of character would you be? Okay, this is another easy one, but just may show you how big of a dork I really am. Absolutely, LORD OF THE RINGS!!! And I would be an elf. I love the story, the undertones, everything about it. And the elves are just so magical and mystical and "glowy" (for lack of a bettter word)! This is Justin and me from a Halloween party dressed as Galadriel and Frodo . . .

6. If you could have one talent that you don't already have, what would it be? My first inclination is to say photography, but I guess I would clarify by saying professional wedding photography. Because I already have a camera and I already take pictures, but I would love to GET PAID to go to weddings and snap one of the most beautiful and memorable days of a couple's life. It would be amazing to be such an integral part of that!

7.If money were no object, where would you go on vacation? I would love to return to Maui, HI where Justin and I were blessed to be able to spend out Honeymoon. It's one of the most spectacular places that I've ever been to, and I would love to go back!

8. If you were an awesome singer, which genre would you sing? This is a copout, but pop music. If I could sing, that's what I'd see myself doing. I'm a poptart at heart! And if I could be better than awesome, I would sing like Christina Aquilera. I think that she has the most amazing voice around (and I would even venture to say OF ALL TIME!):

9. If you could have a $10,000 shopping spree to one store, what would it be? Target, or Tar-jshaaay, if you will. It's a one-stop-shop, and I could definitely spend that money, even if it were only on formula and diapers.

10. If you could live in any point in time, when would it be? I guess I would choose the Roaring 20's, if only just to be able to wear the cute flapper dresses and have a cute finger-wave in my hair.

11. If every outfit in your wardrobe had to be one color, what would it be? BLUE, with bluejeans being my staple.

12. If you were one of the seven dwarves, which one would you be?(Doc, Grumpy, Sneezy, Sleepy, Bashful, Happy, or Dopey) Hand's down, SLEEPY, lol!

13. What's the last album you listened to? Kicked it old-school with Madonna's Immaculate Collection in the car on the way to work this morning.

14. What's something we'd be surprised to know about you? You may be surprised to know that I have a number obssession, almost to the point of OCD. I have to purchase things in certain amounts (ie. number of items), and pretty much anything that I can control the number on, I will. And the numbers have no rhyme or reason, just numbers that I like. You can throw any number out, and I will immediately tell you if I like or dislike that number. Just yesterday, I made Justin add another show to our TiVo cue because the number of shows we had on there was just not a "good number" . . . he knows all about it and puts up with it gracefully! :)

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Just revisiting a poem that I hadn't read since Middle School. For my precious, precious Dylan:

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

-Robert Frost

Friday, February 12, 2010

The Perfect Card

The Valentine's Day card that I bought for Justin says:

My Husband
My Forever Love

I wouldn't change a thing-
not one second...
not one syllable...
not one smile or sorrow
of all we've shared
over the years.

The things I love about you
are the same as always-
your eyes still light my world,
your smile still fills my heart,
your arms still make me feel
secure and loved.

You are the love of my life,
and nothing will ever change that.

Happy Valentine's Day


This card could've easily gotten lost in the shuffle of reds and pinks, hearts and roses. But when I finally picked it up to read it, there was no hesitation in knowing this was the one that spoke to me most. At the end of the day, I wouldn't change the sorrow that we've had to face together. Ultimately, that has made us a stronger couple, better parents, and more faithful individuals. Because of this unspoken thing that we share, loving Dylan and facing his death together, Justin is a part of my life and my heart that no other man could ever be. (And wow, just like that, I figured out what to write on the inside of his card!) Happy Valentine's Day to you and yours!

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Someone Worth Missing

I have some more tv dialogue for you (I promise I don't just sit around and watch tv all day ;). First, it was a conversation between a man and a woman, both widowers (from One Tree Hill; again, it's taken out of context but still totally applies to our losses):

Woman: It's hard, isn't it? Learning to live without them?

Man: Yeah, it's hard making new memories. You know, like it's not fair to them.

Woman: I think, it's not fair to them not to. I mean, they'd want that, wouldn't they? They'd want to know that we face their absence with dignity, grace.

Man: Yeah, well the truth is, I'm not sure I've been that gracious about any of it.

Woman: You're still here, aren't you? Still finding your way? That's about as much grace as anyone can ask.


Second, a conversation between a father and son (also from One Tree Hill, also out of context):

Dad: You miss him?

Son: Yeah . . .

Dad: It's hard when you miss people, but you know if you miss 'em, that means you're lucky. It means you had someone special in your life. Someone worth missing.

Son: Yeah, I guess, I just don't like the missing part so much.

Dad: Yeah, me neither.

There isn't an abundance of references to childloss in pop culture (because it really doesn't happen, now does it?), and we get swept under the rug. So I have to find inspiration where I can. Things that apply to how I'm feeling, words that hit me to my very core.

At the end of the day, I'm still here and still finding my way. And most importantly, Dylan is definitely someone worth missing. (And so are all of your babes . . . for all you babyloss mommas reading this, in case no one has told you lately, your dignity and grace inspire me.)

Friday, January 22, 2010

Those Empty Eyes

A conversation from last night's Private Practice [in a hospital, man's wife just died -- it's taken out of context, but hopefully you get the gist]:

Man: The thing is, I can't leave without my wife. And I can't leave with her, so I can't leave. . . Did you feel this way, when you lost your child?

Woman: Well, walking out that door was the hardest thing I ever did. But yeah, I did feel this way.

Man: You've got that "dead kid" face. I'm sorry, that didn't come out right.

Woman: It's alright. What do you mean about my face?

Man: Your eyes, you've been some place that most people have never been. You've survived something that no one would've wanted to survive. It's your eyes. They're, I don't know . . . empty.

Woman: It doesn't have to be dead kid. It could just be bad life.

Man: No, it's dead kid.


I wonder if I have a dead kid face? Are people looking at me and thinking, "Oh, for sure, dead kid." I wonder if my eyes are empty. I don't think they are . . . at least I hope not.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

A Little Frustrating

I am not easily offended. I've come to accept the fact that I will probably never carry a baby to full-term (ie. 40 weeks). Because of my chronic hypertension, I am (and will probably always be) considered a high-risk pregnancy. I know what it feels like to be thankful for every day that I'm pregnant. But there are times that I hear women complain about their pregnancies, and the devil on my shoulder thinks, "Bitch, if you only knew!" And the angel on my shoulder thinks, "What a blessing, thank your lucky stars!"

There is a part of me, though, that thinks that I would never take that innocence away from her. Because the alternative, being on this side of the statistics, outliving a child, writing a blog dedicated to my dead son . . . I would much rather be running around with my menacing and adorable 19-month-old.

Okay, now help me off my soapbox . . . I'm getting old! :)

Friday, January 1, 2010

First 2010 Post

I wanted to write the requisite "New Year" post, but I found myself without anything constructive to say. The past few days have been difficult. 2009 was the first complete year that we were without Dylan, but we were also blessed by the birth of our beautiful daughter. That's the strange dichotomy we must balance from here on out. Celebrating the life and milestones that is our newest family member, while simultaneously honoring and always remembering and missing our sweet son.

So in honor of Dylan with much love, we decided to make a donation to the hospital and let that speak for itself: