In Dylan's Memory

25 Days of Giveaways - Day 17

2011-12-16T08:39:00.012-05:00

CONGRATULATIONS to Sara (I drew your name for Prize #1) and to Susi (I drew your name for Prize #2). I've contacted the winners! Thank you everyone for visiting and taking the time to enter. May the Christmas season treat you all well.

P.S. Someone wanted to know where I purchased the quote plaques, and I bought them from a Hallmark Gold Crown store.

I wanted to start off again by thanking Tina for executing this great little idea of hers. This is my 2nd year hosting a giveaway, and I've visited the blogs of all the people who've hosted thus far. It's bittersweet, knowing that our beautiful babies are not here to spend Christmas with us but that we can somehow honor and remember them in our own little ways. It breaks my heart to think that I should be getting toys for a 3-and-a-half year old. Wow, just wow!

Anyway, I pray for your babies and that we can somehow find a little peace this holiday season. Sometimes, all we need is that one word or quote or statement to get us through the day. That is why when I saw these, I bought two! They are wooden wall/desk plaques:

Prize #1
(this one is the larger of the two, I would guestimate around a 5x7 size, Quote is from Winnie the Pooh: "Promise me you'll always remember ... You're BRAVER than you believe, and STRONGER than you seem, and SMARTER than you think.")

Prize #2
(this one is the smaller of the two [4x6 would be my guess], so I'm adding a sweet amethyst/sterling silver "Faith" bracelet to go along with this one, Quote is: "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass ... It's learning to dance in the rain ...")

To enter, simply leave a comment on this post -- maybe your favorite message (or even a single word) that has gotten you through your darkest days, maybe who your greatest support system has been throughout? If you prefer one prize over the other let me know, so I can do my best to get that one out to you. I will leave the comments open through the weekend and draw winners on Monday.

Feel free to follow my blog, if you don't already. At 3+ years since Dylan's death, the frequency of posts aren't as often as they used to be but that doesn't make them any less meaningful. 1 extra entry for following (leave a 2nd comment).

P.S. It's quite special to me that my husband helped picked these out. He thought the quotes were perfect, especially on the Pooh plaque. And after all we've survived together, he's been my lifeline, my greatest support throughout. Enjoy, and Merry Christmas everyone!

Love Songs as Loss Songs

2011-10-04T10:29:00.007-04:00

Funny how break-up songs and songs about unrequited love speak to me sometimes:

"Dreams, that's where I have to go
To see your beautiful face anymore
I stare at a picture of you, and listen to the radio . . .

If you ask me how I'm doing,
I would say I'm doing just fine.
I would lie and say that you're not on my mind.
But I go out, and I sit down at a table set for two
And finally, I'm forced to face the truth.
No matter what I say, I'm not over you."
-Gavin DeGraw
"Not Over You"

It's not always verbatim or even a direct correlation, but I get it. I get the emotion behind it. I get what losing a great love feels like.

Reunion in Heaven

2011-07-28T11:21:00.001-04:00

I hope this is what every reunion in Heaven is like (beautiful, just beautiful):

Just for Fun

2011-07-18T19:29:00.004-04:00

"Is there such a thing as good grief?
Ask Charlie Brown."
-Michael Scott, The Office

Right Where I Am: Three Years

2011-06-13T10:59:00.004-04:00

First and foremost, I wanted to wish Dylan a very HAPPY 3rd BIRTHDAY! I love you and miss you so much, my sweet son! And I continue to be amazed and inspired by those around us who remembered with sweet texts, flowers, cards, and donations to the children's hospital.

This is my attempt at joining Angie from Still Life With Circles in sharing where I am in my grief journey: "just talk about where you are right now in your grief, and the daily ways in which grief rears its head, the things you can do now that seemed impossible, the obstacles you are facing".

I'm a little late in joining the boat on this, but since Saturday was Dylan's 3rd birthday, I thought that I would wait and write closer to then. The emotions are fresh and brought back to the surface every year at this time. It's such a cliche to say that it never really goes away. I guess that I can compare my grief journey to a scar. When it first happened, the wound was so raw and ever-present. It was something that was so unbearably painful that you couldn't ignore it. Over time, though, it begins to heal itself. Now, you just have the scar. It's a reminder of the pain you endured and will never really go away. And, in alot of ways, it's a badge of honor.

"Look at how strong I am. Look at what I had to overcome."

Admittedly, this excercise is more difficult to write than I'd anticipated. The old saying "opening up old wounds" seems to be coming to mind. It's not that I don't think about Dylan often. I do, on a daily basis. We look at his pictures with fondness and remember the days that we were blessed with. It's just that, on his birthday (moreso that any other time of the year), the pangs of all the negative feelings re-surface: the anger, the hate, the frustration, the anxiety.

We went to church on Saturday, and I felt the uncontrallable onslaught of tears. I didn't stop them. It was a good release. I sat in the church and remembered sitting there for the memorial. There are just moments like that, where you have to cry remembering what you went through. And it's okay to. There's no point in trying to stop myself from feeling what I feel. I think the emotions are healthy, and I think that I might be more upset at myself if I didn't feel that way.

I know that there are times when I'm simply watching tv, and I see something that sets me off, makes me stop in my tracks, and take a minute to remember our experience. Or listening to the radio and hearing a song that we played at the memorial. Or reading someone else's blog and feeling that emotion just flow for what somebody else is going through. Or finding out that there's someone in our daughter's class named "Dylan". Wow, it's flooring. Sometimes everything is a reminder in some way, shape or form.

Outside of Dylan's birthday, though, the rest of the year is much more manageable. When we took Faith for her 2-year pedicatrician appointment back in May, the nurse asked us if this was our first. I politely said, "No, she's our 2nd. Our first passed away." In the very beginning, I couldn't answer questions about kids without completely losing it. Questions like that don't bother me anymore. I am able to be candid and composed and even have entire conversations about Dylan like any proud mother would. We got pregnant with Faith just 3 months after Dylan died. Honestly, I think that I was still numb from everything that we'd been through. But that numb feeling might've single-handedly been what got me through that pregnancy, what helped me overcome the fears and anxiety.

I say that now because, as we begin to talk about getting pregnant again, I feel like I'm more scared now than I was immediately after the loss. In terms of the obstacles that I'm facing, the fear can be debilitating at times. Yes, we've had a healthy baby since Dylan, but when you know everything that can happen during pregnancy and when you spend your time reading babyloss blogs, you begin to get blown away at the odds as they stack against you. I pray daily to find the strength, physically and emotionally, to put myself through this again.

Random

2011-04-25T14:09:00.005-04:00

"What the hell is going on? What's the point? Is there a reason for this? Because if you could think of a reason, any reason at all, why the universe is so screwed up and random and mean, now would be an amazingly good time to tell me because I really need some answers."

-Meredith "Grey's Anatomy"

***
If roses are meant to be red
and violets to be blue,
why isn't my heart
meant for you?

My hands longing to touch you
I can barely breathe
Starry eyes that make me melt
Right in front of me.

-Anouk "Lost"

***
Just some randoms things for you. Just because. They remind me of Dylan. :)

A Tree and a Rabbit Hole

2011-01-13T12:07:00.002-05:00

I just want to give a quick thanks to The Wishing Tree blog for adding Dylan and to Holly for introducing me to the blog. You can check out Dylan's name on the tree here. Or feel free to have your own angel(s) added to the tree:

What a neat idea! I bet that tree is both awe-inspiring and gut-wrenching at the same time.

********

I just happened to be up late last night watching one of the late night talk shows, and they were interviewing Sandra Oh (from Grey's Anatomy). I'm not usually up this late, but I had a difficult time falling asleep or maybe I just needed to see her talk about the new movie she's in. It's called "Rabbit Hole". [Here's the blurb from IMDB: Life for a happy couple is turned upside down after their young son dies in an accident. Based on a play by David Lindsay-Abaire.] Here's the trailer:

"Does it ever go away?"

"No, but sometimes it becomes bearable."

I feel like I just had that conversation. It looks like a really good movie, and even if it isn't, props to the actors and actresses and producers and directors who "went there" and took on such a project. Alot of us know firsthand just how taboo babyloss and childloss topics are and to make a feature film out of it (even an indie film) . . . props, just props to you.

Be Kind 2011

2011-01-02T22:05:00.006-05:00

It's better, you know, being without our son. Yes, it still sucks not to have him here. Yes, I still find myself caught off-guard by the sudden on-set of tears sometimes. But, it's better. It's not like in the first few days when I couldn't find a reason to get out of bed. It's not like that at all.

I just finished a Year In Review post for my daughter's blog, and the dichotomy in my heart is ever-present. I see how much she's grown in the past year, both physically and developmentally, and yet there's that unrelenting curiosity that my brain just has to visit: what would Dylan be like now? What are 2 1/2 year-olds into? It sucks that I don't know because I should. But these are the cards that we've been dealt. We're very hopeful for the New Year though, that our hearts will continue to be on the mend. Very hopeful that the missing never goes away but that it never becomes paralyzing again either (not only for our daughter's sake, but for Dylan's sake as well).

Anywho, to ring in the New Year as we did last year, we made our requisite donation to the children's hospital:I hope that 2011 is kind to you as well. I hope that those waiting on their "rainbows" have all their heart's desires met. And I hope that those still working on mending their broken hearts find some sort of peace and joy in this coming year.

I never got around to posting our Christmas Card this year, but here it is (had to include Dylan, of course ;)And finally (since this post is already so random to begin with), I never got around to thanking sweet, sweet Carly for sending along this beautiful picture of Christian's beach. She told me, "I was thinking of Dylan when I drew this latest butterfly :)" THANKS SO MUCH CARLY!

25 Days of Giveaways - Day 17

2010-12-16T23:59:00.008-05:00

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).

The Recovery

2010-12-06T15:17:00.004-05:00

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. "

"The Sharp Knife of a Short Life"

2010-11-10T20:59:00.005-05:00

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!

"Home"
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.

Let There Be Light

2010-10-15T20:48:00.005-04:00

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.

A Short Rant

2010-08-18T13:52:00.004-04:00

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.

Faith, A Blessing

2010-06-24T20:51:00.004-04:00

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):

Happy 2nd Birthday Dylan!

2010-06-11T20:22:00.004-04:00

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:

Two Days til Two Years

2010-06-09T17:42:00.003-04:00

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.

I Can Relate

2010-05-11T11:07:00.002-04:00

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."

Dedicated to Mommies

2010-05-10T10:42:00.003-04:00

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!

Things That Make You Go, "Hmm"

2010-05-04T10:37:00.007-04:00

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."

ETA 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."

Jealousy

2010-04-07T21:42:00.002-04:00

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.

Truth

2010-04-06T15:32:00.004-04:00

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."

Happy Easter Dylan!

2010-04-05T23:23:00.002-04:00

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:

E-Mails Never Sent

2010-03-23T11:38:00.003-04:00

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!

A Positive Side of Loss

2010-03-01T21:40:00.002-05:00

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!

2010-03-01T12:12:00.013-05:00

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! :)

Nothing Gold Can Stay

2010-02-23T14:39:00.002-05:00

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

The Perfect Card

2010-02-12T14:02:00.003-05:00

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!

Someone Worth Missing

2010-02-09T14:05:00.003-05:00

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.)

Those Empty Eyes

2010-01-22T13:59:00.004-05:00

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.

A Little Frustrating

2010-01-07T22:47:00.006-05:00

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! :)

First 2010 Post

2010-01-01T00:35:00.005-05:00

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:

What a Difference . . .

2009-12-10T13:19:00.000-05:00

. . . a year makes. Yesterday I turned 31, and I started thinking about how much of a milestone my birthday last year was. I turned 30 last year. It was a milestone birthday that I did not want to celebrate, not because I was getting older but because it was my first birthday as a babyloss mother. It's not enough to have to celebrate my birthday sandwiched between the holidays, where it inevitably gets lost in the shuffle. But to have to celebrate it without Dylan around last year was, frankly, grievously overwhelming. Last year, instead of a birthday card, my husband wrote me this letter:

So I've never really been good at writing cards, but it seems this year to be especially difficult. Buying a card off of the rack couldn't say what I needed to say. I could get one that says "Hey you're 30!" but you already know that. This year, and for every year on, our birthdays will not be complete as our family cannot be complete, for the most special member can no longer be with us. So what can I say to that? God's most precious gift to us was bitter-sweet. For he gave us the most perfect baby in all the world, but we could not keep it. . . . For what gifts can I truly give to you that you do not already have? . . . You have given me so much that you do not know, that no gifts in the world could repay. You are the crutch to my malady, the roots to my tree. If I am strong like a brick, then you are the sand that I am made of, for I cannot be what I am without you. I am truly blessed to have you as a wife, and Dylan as a son. The Holy Spirit tells me that he's with us right now, celebrating along side of us. With all of that in mind we say to you, Happy Birthday Mommy. We love you!

Truly a priceless gift. When I read this last year, I bawled my eyes out. Even now, as I re-type it, I am teary-eyed. Sure, it's been a year, and sure, the grief is less stinging and more bearable, but it's definitely still there. 31 - the 2nd of a lifetime of "incomplete birthdays".

"28" (12/2006) - A Complete Celebration:

"30" (12/2008) - Spent Quietly Contemplating

Thankful

2009-11-17T13:00:00.000-05:00

It's just started raining here, a drab, overcast kind of day. Fitting, really. Today is November 17, 2009, exactly 17 months since we said goodbye to Dylan. (Yes, I know I said I'd stop counting before, but I also said that that probably wasn't true). My mom told me last week that it was my brother's birthday (I'm awful about remembering those things). He would be 35 years old. Evidently, a bereaved mother NEVER stops counting. So, Happy Belated Birthday Alan. Hope that your nephew celebrated right along with you!

The leaves are falling, Thanksgiving is coming up. I just wanted to share something I'm thankful for today. Holly, a fellow babylost mommy, e-mailed me this beautiful picture that I wanted to share:

I'm still amazed at the fact that Dylan's short life could have such a tremendous impact. Thank you Holly!

An Emotional Outpour

2009-10-27T14:30:00.013-04:00

Just a couple of [random] things that have been on my mind and heavy on my heart. A sort of emotional outpour.

********

Before I got pregnant with Dylan, Justin and I decided that we wanted our kids to be close in age (roughly a year or so apart). Having a daughter less than a year after losing our firstborn is not exactly how I expected our story would go. And now, Dylan's death has affected so much in our lives including every subsequent pregnancy from now on. With Faith here, preparing for a 3rd is not yet a reality, and we're finding more and more reasons to keep lengthening that age gap.

First, there's the fear of another baby dying. (I'm certain that will never go away now. When I was pregnant with Dylan, there was never a fear of him dying. It just wasn't part of my reality. Even when we found out about his heart condition, it never occured to me that he would die. But once pregnancy and infant death become a reality in one's life, that reality never goes away.)

Then, there's the fear of me dying. (It rarely happens anymore, I know, but the reality of dying after labor hit close to home earlier this year when a high school friend died after giving birth to her daughter. The fact that I'm considered a high-risk pregnancy because of my blood pressure coupled with our luck with odds, I just know it's a distinct possibility. For me, the greater issue with this one would be leaving my kids without a mother and Justin without a wife.)

Finally, there's the fear of failing. (As a mother. As a wife. With God. In my healing. In my hope. In my grief. At raising our kids. At any of it. At all of it.)

********

"Sometimes I can't see you anymore. I forget things about you, and I'm afraid that I'm losing us. . . . like the way you smelled . . . and how you felt in my arms. If I let someone in, I'll erase you. I can't. It's not fair. We were supposed to have more time. I don't want to lose us." -paraphrased from One Tree Hill (a conversation between a man and his dead wife)

I wonder if this affects how my relationship evolves with Faith. I mean, I don't think I can reiterate enough how much I love my daughter, but I wonder if it's stifled by the fears of letting someone in again. I'm not afraid of forgetting Dylan per se, I just don't want our memories with him to fade.

********

"The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away"

We sang [the refrain of] You Are My Sunshine to Dylan alot in the hospital, so obviously it holds a special place in my heart. I keep hearing it on Faith's player in her nursery (it was on one of the lullaby CDs that we'd gotten). I've been crying every time I hear it lately. If I'm anywhere near the player, and I hear the first note of the song, I can't press the NEXT button fast enough.

This version in particular, even from the very beginning as he's climbing the tree before he starts singing, is so poignant:

********

Just another beautiful song I found, called "Down" by Jason Walker:

Right On. AWESOME!

2009-10-20T18:38:00.007-04:00

Justin and I participated in the 5th Annual Atlanta Walk to Remember on Sunday (my 2nd, his 1st). The program included speakers, parents sharing their stories and other original writings, and music. After the short walk, there was a beautiful balloon release. Attached to each balloon were purple butterflies with messages to our angel babies written from mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, grandparents, friends, etc. When I got to the butterfly table, I could feel myself getting teary. Like last year, I just quickly scribbled my message: "Dylan, Missing you so much, each and every day. Hope you're looking down on us and your new sis Faith! Love, Mommy, Daddy, Faith, and Inu"

Justin wrote: "Dylan, It's been far too long since we were blessed with you. We all miss you so much and send our love to you in our prayers every night. We love you with all our hearts and souls, Mommy, Daddy, Faith, and Inu" I swear, sometimes I think he's so much better at this than me.

The gathering was awesome. The stories we all shared - with our tears, in the embraces of our husbands, in long staring matches with living children, even in quiet communion - were awesome. The day was awesome. To have to share this, to have to experience it, to have a reason to participate in this walk . . . tragic, but still awesome.

Anyway, I'm really just poking fun at a random person that stopped us on the walk route (which also explains the title of this post). He asks us, "What are you guys doing here? Are you on some sort of tour?"

I answer, "No, it's a walk."

"Oh really, what kind of walk."

"A Walk to Remember." (At this point, I'm really just trying to not make it awkward for him, but he persists.)

"Oh, what's it for?"

"It's for people whose babies have died."

He says (and I kid you not): "Right on. Awesome!"

I looked at Justin in disbelief. Did he really just say that? Perhaps he didn't hear me. We just kept walking . . .

So, on to some pictures from the day:

This Little Light of Mine

2009-10-15T22:42:00.007-04:00

I don't have anything better to write than what I wrote last year for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Rememberance Day: I lit a candle for Dylan today . . . I know I don't need a special day to remember Dylan, I will remember him everyday for the rest of my life. But it's still nice, you know? . . . I lit just about every candle I could find (I bet Dylan can see the lights from Heaven ;).

This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine

This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine

This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine

Let it shine,
Let it shine,
Let it shine.

I light In Dylan's Memory. I light in Isaac's Memory. I light in Christian's Memory. I light in George's Memory. I light in Audrey's Memory. I light in Cayden's Memory. I light in Samuel's Memory. For Vivian & Annemarie. For Max. For Logan & Brody. For Hope. For Brenham. For Nicholas. For Carleigh. For Jenna. For Thomas. For all.

To other mommies and daddies who had to say goodbye far, far too soon. For the countless other stories I've come across and for the countless other stories that I may never know. I let it shine for all of you tonight. Thank you for sharing your lives, your experiences, your grief; it's enriched me in a way that you may never know.

A New Mourning

2009-10-02T09:15:00.006-04:00

Some friends of ours recently got engaged, and when I heard the news, I was beaming for them. I love weddings! I love going to weddings, getting all dressed up, dancing, seeing the bride for the first time. I've shot and edited wedding videos; even had a brief stint as a wedding coordinator.

Then, I thought about Dylan’s wedding. I felt as if I was mourning a new kind of loss. I’m no longer just mourning my newborn son, the tiny little boy that I held in my arms. I’m mourning the person he would become as well. I’m mourning the fact that I will never get to do a mother-son dance with my firstborn. Never have this kind of untainted happiness again:

My existence has changed forever. And if you can’t quite wrap your mind around it, think of like this: Once you become a mother, you’re a mother for life, no matter the circumstance.

Well, once you become a mother whose child has died, you’re a babylost mother for life. There are no band-aids or quick-fix remedies. There are phases you go through. Times that are more difficult than others, but you will always be defined as a babylost mother.

Closing Thoughts of the Day

"When you lose someone, it stays with you, always reminding you of how easy it is to get hurt." --Elena, from The Vampire Diaries (of all places)

"Life is not the way it's supposed to be. It's the way it is. The way you cope with it is what makes the difference." --Author Unknown (grabbed from a friend's e-mail, thanks Jackie!)

Grieving

2009-09-24T23:09:00.002-04:00

Excerpts from tonight's Grey's Anatomy (so true, so profound, so close to home):

"Grief may be a thing we all have in common, but it looks different on everyone."

"The thing we all have to remember is that it can turn on a dime."

"When it hurts so much you can't breathe, that's when you survive."

"Grief comes in its own time for everyone, in its own way."

"The very worst part of grief is that you can't control it."

"The best we can do is to let ourselves feel it when it comes, and let it go when we can."

"The very worst part is that the minute you think you're past it, it starts all over again."

"And always, every time, it starts all over again."

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

Remembering

2009-09-11T14:49:00.003-04:00

Remembering on 9/11/09 means something completely different for me than it does for most. Today, while all of my friends update their status on Facebook with something inspirational about the tragic events of 8 years ago, my thoughts were drawn elsewhere. Today, Dylan would've been 15 months old. That's just my reality, perhaps a tad too profound for a status update.

15 months. Part of me wants to stop counting because it just makes me sad to think about what he would be doing at this age and what he would look like. The other part of me is driven to never stop counting and never forget. That part will probably triumph because, behind the pain and behind the tears, we still want to celebrate a life that was cut far too short. We love you Dill!

Woman on the Verge of Tears

2009-08-17T09:25:00.002-04:00

I have a lump in my throat. It's there all the time. ALL THE TIME. My new existence can be summed up as this: sudden outbursts of crying may occur. Yes, it sounds like a prescription drug commercial, but the truth is, grief does have all these side-effects (tears, sadness, anger, disinterest, etc.). I never know when the next outbreak will occur. It could be triggered by a certain smell; a certain note in a song; a picture; a sweet letter or e-mail from a friend; a smile from my newborn; a certain day of the month; a sad look on my husband's face. At any time, on any day, I can lose it. Now, the one upside of being a year(+) out already is that I can pull myself together afterward.

Some days are better and more bearable than others. Some events are still happy too. There's just that lump in my throat, and it's just too bad there's not a magic drug for it.

Drawing Courage From . . .

2009-08-13T12:59:00.007-04:00

There are days when I feel like if world to came crumbling in on me, I wouldn't fight it or do anything to prevent it. It certainly has taken the emotional strength of every fiber of my body to get through those days. It's always nice when people tell me how brave I've been through our whole ordeal because on those days, when I feel so broken and bruised, sometimes I just need to hear it.

So, where does my courage come from?

First and foremost, from Dylan. The mere idea that Dylan "deserves a strong mom" has gotten me out of bed more times than I can even count. More often than not, I don't want to be sad because I know that that's not what Dylan would want either.

Then, of course, there's my husband Justin. He gives me the strength and courage to face every, single day and all the things that get thrown at me. He's amazing for all that he does and for all that he puts up with.

There's my mom, who's always been a personal hero of mine. We now have this unspoken connection between us, not only because I'm a mother now but also because I'm a babylost mother. My mom courageously battled through my brother being in a coma for years and having to make the heart-breaking decision to take him off life support. My brother was older than Dyaln when he passed, but in whatever form or fashion that it occurs, parents who lose children face the unfathomable. And I think that because we've both faced it now, it makes our mother/daughter bond all the more special and close.

Finally, I'm always encouraged by the love and support of family and friends who've been there for us through it all; who were there from the beginning and are still there now (even if it's been over a year); who have no expectations of us or how we process our grief; who don't wince when we talk about Dylan; who sent cards and e-mails; who called us up; or who just dropped by. Those are the people that, when you least expect it, give you little bursts of courage that mean so very much.

Had A Moment

2009-08-05T09:52:00.003-04:00

This past Monday was my first day back at work from being on maternity leave with Faith. I had a great half-day reprieve when Justin brought me lunch and brought Faith up to work for a visit. So of course I took her around the office to show off our beautiful, new daughter. And of course, everyone was so excited about meeting her. But one of my co-workers cradled Faith in her arms and just started crying. She said, through the tears, "Oh Katrina, I'm so happy for you guys". And as my eyes welled up knowing exactly who we were both thinking about at that moment, I mouthed the words "Thank you" to her. It touched me so deeply to know that, even in the excitement of our new little miracle, our first miracle is not forgotten.

Bit of Wisdom

2009-07-03T19:42:00.005-04:00

One of the readings at church this past Sunday (really struck a cord with me):

Wisdom 1:13-15; 2:23-24

God did not make death,
nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living.
For he fashioned all things that they might have being;
and the creatures of the world are wholesome,
and there is not a destructive drug among them
nor any domain of the netherworld on earth,
for justice is undying.
For God formed man to be imperishable;
the image of his own nature he made him.
But by the envy of the devil, death entered the world,
and they who belong to his company experience it.

Under the Tree - June

2009-07-03T19:00:00.003-04:00

"Under the Tree" is a discussion spot for babyloss mothers started by Carly from Love Reign Over Me.

Okay, so obviously I'm a little behind in posting this one, but it looked like fun, so I still wanted to participate!

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Eye color: Dark Brown

Profession: Mommy and Promotions Coordinator at a local TV station

Relationship status: Happily Married

My Favorites:

Favorite color: Blue

Favorite movie: "Knocked Up"

Favorite animal: Non-domestic? Probably whales (kind of a random one, I know, but I fell in love with the Belugas at the Georgia Aquarium)

Favorite store: Banana Republic

Favorite childhood memory: Being a huge tomboy and always trying to keep up with what the boys were doing

Favorite hobby: Writing and Photography

Favorite song/singer: "Paul Revere" by the Beastie Boys / John Mayer

Favorite book/author: "Great Gatsby" / Edgar Allan Poe

Favorite school subject: Newspaper/Journalism

Favorite vacation destination: Maui, where we went for our honeymoon; or Destin, FL where we go every year

Favorite food: Salmon, Spaghetti/Lasagna (preferably mom's), or chocolate

Favorite restaurant: Trader Vics

This or That:

Coke or Pepsi: Coke

Beer or wine: Either, depends on my mood

Coffee or tea: Tea, preferably sweet and iced!

Apple Juice or O.J.: OJ

Summer or Winter: Can I say Fall?

Cats or dogs: Dogs

Salty or sweet: Both!

Plane or boat: Plane

Morning or night: Night

Money or love: No question, LOVE!

Breakfast or dinner: Dinner

Forgiveness or revenge: Forgiveness

House or apartment: House

Like to cook: Not really, so I married a great cook!

Have You Ever:

Got a speeding ticket: Yes

Wished you were someone else: I'm sure I have

Cried during a movie: Uh, can you say "Steel Magnolias"?

Describe yourself in one word: Complicated

Biggest fear: I'm not afraid of anything anymore, other than losing another child

Biggest mistake: My ex?

Your proudest accomplishment: Carrying and Having Dylan, and how I've carried myself in the aftermath

Dream job: Wedding Coordinator or Wedding Photographer

Special talents: Video-editing

Where would you rather be at the moment: At the Beach

Famous person you want to meet: Orlando Bloom

Song to be played at your funeral: "One Sweet Day" Mariah Carey/Boyz II Men

What To Expect When You're Expecting [After Loss]

2009-06-14T22:12:00.004-04:00

"No one told me it would be like this" . . . I'm sure this sentiment has crossed the minds of many parents. But as a parent who's now had a child after losing one, the thought still rings true. It's not like I feel resentment or contempt towards my new baby, it's just a sort of sadness I feel when I look into her eyes or watch her doing . . . well, pretty much anything and think "Dylan never got to do this". It's bittersweet. I'm sure it's not in any chapter of any book. I should be grateful and overjoyed that we have a new healthy baby, but there are times when thoughts of Dylan just leave me heavy-hearted. I know my emotions are heightened by the tragic combo of "postpartum blues" and having to celebrate the 1-year anniversary of Dylan's death at the same time. And I hope I'm not wrong for even thinking this way. I love my daughter dearly. I love my son dearly and miss him every day. It's just a surreal life to be living, that's all.

I can't believe the year that we've survived. I can't believe that the pain hasn't subsided; dulled, but never went away (and certainly never will). And Faith is no band-aid (boy, that's a loaded statement if I've ever heard one). Dylan will always have a part of my heart that no one else could ever replace.

Happy Birthday Dylan!

2009-06-11T20:45:00.004-04:00

Regarding the 1-year anniversary of the day she was diagnosed with cancer, a friend recently wrote "Today is not a bad day, or a sad day, or a mad day. Its a tribute to the strength and fortitude to overcome a challenge. It's a HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!"

I find myself inspired by her words. Although our circumstances are not the same, I've felt a similar "strength and fortitude" over the course of the past year that have gotten me through the roughest of days. In alot of ways, today was similar to everyday in the past year rolled into one. I woke up this morning by my cell phone bombarding me with texts, voicemails, and emails of family and friends all remembering with us and acknowledging the day. And though I could've easily stayed in bed and slept the day away, I didn't. I remembered those mornings in the first few months after Dylan's death that I spent just wanting to stay in bed.

But I didn't just stay in bed. I pressed on. We both did. As difficult as it was to do so without our amazing son, we did. Yes, it was challenging. And yes, some days were more difficult than others.

"Today is not a bad day." It's Dylan's birthday. And like anyone else's birthday, it's a celebration of his life, a celebration of him. There were times that I did find myself sad today, sad that Dylan's not here with us for this celebration. But it's still not a bad day or a mad day. It's Dylan's birthday. We just want to wish our precious son a HAPPY BIRTHDAY! We love you and miss you dearly, with all our hearts. Thank you for the difference you've made in our lives; thank you for making us the best parents we could possibly be; thank you for gracing us with 6 beautiful days. May your celebration in Heaven be blessed with laughter and joy. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DYLAN!

Looming Over Me

2009-06-06T16:07:00.003-04:00

In these days leading up to June 11th (Dylan's birthday), I am admittedly anxious and sad. Is it strange that we've come full-circle already by welcoming Dylan's baby sister into the world just 2 weeks ago? It's strange to me. We've been blessed with this beautiful bundle of joy in our lives, but a bit of it is overshadowed by this looming anniversary (not one that we'd particularly like to be celebrating but one that we obviously can't overlook as well). I pray that the strength that we've exhibited over the course of the past year will carry us over these difficult days ahead.

A Little Perspective

2009-04-07T11:33:00.010-04:00

First, there’s the perspective a grieving parent has from losing a child. I’ve learned to take my worries and my stresses in life with a grain of salt. Kind of like the mentality, “Hey, I’ve survived losing my son, there’s not much else in the world that I can’t survive.”

Then, there’s the perspective that you get in understanding where someone on the other side of the fence is coming from. A couple months ago, I wrote about a co-worker who struggled with saying the word “memorial” to me. I didn’t understand it, and it definitely caught me off guard. Just last week, this very co-worker comes into my office and begins to give me [sort of] an unsolicited explanation. She told me how, as a mother herself, she couldn’t even fathom what I’d been through and that there were no words. None of the “Hallmark” responses felt appropriate. It was just easier for her to not talk about it than to say something wildly inappropriate.

I guess, in a way, I could totally see where she was coming from. I mean, as grieving parents, it’s easy to get upset if someone says the wrong thing to you and it’s just as easy to get upset if someone says nothing to you. For “outsiders”, it’s a tough balance to maintain. And even beyond that, each grieving parent experiences so differently that what works for me might not work for another set of parents or another grieving mother. The thoughts and statements and gestures that have helped me along the way may be offensive or received differently by someone else.

Even as someone who’s been through this tragedy, I may possess a certain level of empathy but I still wouldn’t know the perfect thing to say every single time, in every single situation. And perhaps there just isn’t a perfect thing to say, perhaps there are not a definitive set of guidelines that work across the board. It’s a fine line we walk everyday, just as I’m sure it’s a fine line for non-grievers to walk alongside us.

I just want to thank those of you who’ve continued to walk with us regardless. Whether you’ve said the wrong thing(s), the “perfect” thing(s), or have said nothing at all, I’m still blessed that you’re in my life and that you have let Dylan be a part of yours.

CHD Awareness

2009-04-07T11:33:00.007-04:00

For those of you who don't know Dylan's story from the beginning, he was diagnosed with a Congenital Heart Defect at 20 weeks gestation. That was the first indication that we had a very special little boy in our lives. And Dylan's CHD was rare, called Hypoplastic Right Heart Syndrome. We did alot of research, and read up on all the information that we could muster up online. We had a great pediatric cardiologist already lined up, were going in for constant echocardiograms, met with a top-of-the-line cardiothoracic surgeon at the children's hospital, etc. We went through all the motions necessary for CHD babies (as much of the prep as we could do before birth anyway). So I feel a certain closeness to babies living with a CHD, simply because that's what we were preparing for with Dylan. The surgeries, the medicine, the "he'll never play football". Now while our story didn't quite go as we'd hoped or planned, the extraordinary part is that, in the end, Dylan's heart (defect and all) wasn't what failed his body.

I know that Dylan would've been a special CHD baby himself, and we never stopped having hope that his heart would get the fixin' it needed, function, and thrive. So when I read about other CHD babies, I have the same hope for them. Like Bentley, an adorable 7-month-old who was diagnosed with Tetralogy of Fallot at just 2 days old. She will need surgery in less than 2 months.

(Click on the picture above to read more about Bentley. Bentley's mommy is doing a giveaway on her blog to spread the word on CHD awareness, so head on over there.)

I Dedicate My First Award to Mike

2009-04-06T20:50:00.013-04:00

The Domestic Goddess herself has tagged me with my very first award ever (THANK YOU)! So now I'm supposed to name 7 Things I Love. But since I always have such a difficult time trying to come up with 7 random things or even 7 expected/typical things, I am going to combine this post with another one that I've been planning to write. (And please forgive me in advance for not tagging 7 others, like I'm supposed to . . . I didn't want to deviate too far from my message).

Today, a dear friend of ours is leaving on a jet plane. He has taken a job in California, on the complete opposite coast from us. It feels like the end of an era, and yet we know that we'll see him again and keep in touch often. Anyway, rather than write about any 7 Things We Love, this post will be 7 Things We Love About Mike (it should go without saying that there are more than 7 things we love about this person, but here's what's coming to mind at the moment):

1. The Reader. This is a title that we bestowed on Mike ever since our wedding. He was the lone reader at our wedding and was kind and strong enough to step up to the plate and read at Dylan's memorial as well. He is so well-spoken that we couldn't think of a better person for this job.

2. Peace and Blessings. As much as Mike is an amazing reader, he also writes in a way that is both eloquent and distinct. He always closes every letter that he's ever written to us with Peace and Blessings, and as corny as it may sound, he means it every single time.

3. Dependability. No matter what's going on, Mike is the kind of guy you can call on to be there . . . even if it's 8:30 in the morning on a Saturday, and he's got a 30+ minute drive . . . :) (Thank you for being the only friend present at our convalidation, it meant so much to us).

4. Loyalty. (And we don't mean only when it's convenient for him. ;)

5. Honesty. No matter how awkward it may be, Mike always manages to tell us the truth, whether we want to hear it or not.

6. Generosity. Mike is always giving so much more than what's expected, and in many cases, so much more than some deserve. There is no way we could ever pay Mike back for all that he's given us, so hopefully in the meantime, our friendship will suffice.

7. Karaoke. Mike introduced us and all of our friends to Korean Karaoke bars. So much fun! The rooms are private, and we only need to act a fool in front of people we already know, so it always takes the edge off. Plus, we can always count on Mike to sing the sappy ballads, like "Wherever You Will Go" by The Calling. How very fitting right now:

So lately, been wonderin
Who will be there to take my place
When I'm gone, you'll need love
To light the shadows on your face

If a great wave should fall
It would fall upon us all
And between the sand and stone
Could you make it on your own

If I could, then I would
I'll go wherever you will go
Way up high or down low
I'll go wherever you will go

And maybe, I'll find out
The way to make it back someday
To watch you, to guide you
Through the darkest of your days

If a great wave should fall
It would fall upon us all
Well I hope there's someone out there
Who can bring me back to you

Runaway with my heart
Runaway with my hope
Runaway with my love

I know now, just quite how
My life and love might still go on
In your heart and your mind
I'll stay with you for all of time

If I could turn back time
I'll go wherever you will go
If I could make you mine
I'll go wherever you will go

Under the Tree - March

2009-03-26T12:43:00.009-04:00

"Under the Tree" is a discussion spot for babyloss mothers started by Carly from Love Reign Over Me.

Do you have a special place in your home for your baby/ies? What is it like? Do you have any rituals that you perform in memory of your baby/ies?

We don't necessarily have a "special" place in the house for Dylan. We have pictures and momentos up all throughout the house. We haven't performed any "rituals" yet either. Although, I hope to fully honor and remember Dylan on his birthday by making and donating a basket of some sort to the hospital NICU. I've already started buying items to do this in June. If that is well-received, my goal is to do that (or something) every June.

If you believe in an afterlife, do you receive signs from your baby/ies? Have you ever felt their presence? Do you find them in nature? Do they visit you in your dreams?

I believe in Heaven. I haven't received any signs from Dylan or felt his presence, but I whole-heartedly believe that he watches over us. At times, if the sky is particularly blue or the clouds just scream perfection, I find myself thinking about Dylan and his perfect beauty.

Do you have a special poem, song, prayer or quote in memory of your baby/ies?

None of these are really in memory of Dylan per se, but ones that have especially touched my heart on this journey:

Special Poem:

What Makes A Mother
by Jennifer Wasik

I thought of you and closed my eyes
And prayed to God today.
I asked what makes a Mother
And I know I heard him say.

A Mother has a baby
This we know is true.
But God can you be a Mother
When your baby's not with you?

Yes, you can He replied
With confidence in His voice
I give many women babies
When they leave is not their choice.

Some I send for a lifetime
And others for a day.
And some I send to feel your womb
But there's no need to stay.

I just don't understand this, God
I want my baby here
He took a breath and cleared His throat
And then I saw a tear.

I wish I could show you
What your child is doing today.
If you could see your child smile
With other children and say

"We go to earth and learn our lessons
Of love and life and fear.
My Mommy loved me oh so much
I got to come straight here.

I feel so lucky to have a Mom
Who had so much love for me
I learned my lesson very quickly
My Mommy set me free.

I miss my Mommy oh so much
But I visit her each day.
When she goes to sleep
On her pillow's where I lay.

I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek
And whisper in her ear
"Mommy don't be sad today
I'm your baby and I'm here."

So you see my dear sweet one
Your children are OK
Your babies are here in My home
And this is where they'll stay.

They'll wait for you with me
Until your lesson is through
And on the day that you come Home
They'll be at the gates for you.

So now you see what makes a Mother
It's the feeling in your heart.
It's the love you had so much of
Right from the very start.

Though some may not realize
until their time is done,
Remember all the love you have
And know you are a special MOM.

Special Song:

Special Prayer:

2 Corinthians 12:9

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.

Special Quote:

"Life is not the amount of breaths you take, it's the moments that take your breath away."

My Miracle

2009-03-25T10:23:00.005-04:00

I've wavered lately on miracles and my belief on whether or not they exist. And I came across this post by Angie Smith (Bring the Rain). I was instantly touched by her words: "It sounds absolutely absurd to say that I am at peace with her death . . . But I am. And I actually think that that is the miracle."

It hit me like a ton of bricks. My miracle wasn't Dylan being healed and whole on this side of heaven. God had/has something else in store for me. My miracle was the strength that it has taken to survive, accept, and come closer to Him, even despite my circumstances. I am closer to God than I was before Dylan's death. And even since, I have found a peace and understanding with Dylan's death that I couldn't quite grasp before. And though I will never possess the capacity to understand why things happened the way they did for us or what God's will is, I was given the strength and courage to accept that this is God's will, not mine, at work. Being at peace with Dylan's death and being at peace with God's will, those are our miracles and we are blessed to be where we are on our spiritual journeys.

Remember: "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." - Albert Einstein

And if you're the praying kind, please keep:

(Click on the picture above to read more about Stellan.)

How Do You Answer That?

2009-03-23T11:47:00.002-04:00

I know early on after Dylan's death, my most difficult moments were when people asked if we had any children. When everything was still fresh and raw, the easy-out response was "no". It kept us from having to go into a long, drawn-out story and prevented the inevitably uncomfortable situation of having to tell a complete stranger that your child is in Heaven. But when our answer was "no", I immediately felt lousy afterwards. I felt like I wasn't honoring Dylan's life and that I was doing my son a huge disservice. I would cry and tell Justin, "What am I saying? Of course we have a child!" Those were some of my most emotional breakdowns.

Now, it's over 9 months later, and we are both comfortable talking about Dylan and bragging about him, just like any other parent. And I think the question has come up more often lately because I am currently pregnant. The usual questions are brought up: "How far along are you?" "Do you know if you're having a boy or a girl?" "Is this your first?" When they get to that last question, which they inevitably do, I say with confidence, "no, this is my second" and leave it at that. Most people continue with the expected follow-up, "Oh, how old is your first?" I respond, "My first would be 9 months, but he passed away." The look of discomfort that that line delivers almost makes me feel bad for them though. They don't know what to say, and they wished they hadn't asked at all. They usually say, "Oh, I'm sorry". But I get the impression that they're not apologizing for my loss but for the fact that they put themselves in that position to begin with.

While I will never feel comfortable going back to responding with "This is my first" or "We have no other children", I do wonder how to ease the discomfort for people asking me that question for the first time. It just happened again last week while meeting a work contact, and immediately after she apologized profusely, I just changed the subject for everyone involved in the conversation. It definitely took the edge off.

When You Become a Parent

2009-03-22T11:59:00.004-04:00

So there's been a couple of instances now where our own friends have lectured us on how life changes "when you guys have kids". Seems like they've forgotten that we are already parents. I mean, we are [parents] right? Even though Dylan isn't in our earthly presence? And on top of that, the larger irony is that the majority of the people who've given us the "when you guys have kids" or the "when you guys become parents" lecture have been people who don't have kids yet. How do they know how life changes, they don't even have kids themselves! It's almost like trying to give me a lecture on how life is when you're Filipino . . . woah, wait, reality check, YOU'RE NOT FILIPINO, I am!!! Yet another "WTF moment" . . . such is life for parents grieving a loss.

9 Months . . .

2009-03-12T14:55:00.005-04:00

Yesterday, Dylan would've been 9 months. I've officially been mourning for my son almost as long as I was pregnant with him. I have this strange serenity over me right now, a calm washing over me. It's difficult to explain, maybe just God's way of protecting me from the deep, deep bitter sadness that I could be in.

Some Borrowed Writing

Jeremiah 29:11

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Under The Tree - February

2009-02-26T18:47:00.006-05:00

Carly from Love Reign Over Me was kind enough to start Under the Tree, a discussion spot for babyloss mothers.

How long have you been blogging for? Why did you start? What do you want from writing?

I started blogging in October 2008. My first post was exactly 4 months, to the day, of Dylan's birth. I was at work one day, just perusing the internet and randomly stumbled upon a babylost momma's blog. I was immediately engaged by her story, even though it was quite different from my own. And a part of me felt compelled to put my story out there, and share Dylan's life with the world. I've always enjoyed writing, and for that reason, blogging seemed like a sort of natural (and free) therapy/outlet for me.

I want my writing to celebrate Dylan's life. Sharing my words and this experience for the world to see, surprisingly, does not make me feel as vulnerable as one would think. It's my story, it's not up for interpretation or argument. I don't have to feel wrong here. I want people to know our journey. I want people to feel with us, and see the beauty that Dylan's short life brought to us. And maybe one day, when I need it most, I want to see how much we've grown and how much we overcame by surviving this.

Where is safest place for you to share your feelings? Is there anywhere you feel completely accepted just being however you are really feeling?

The safest place for me to share my feelings is actually in conversations with my husband. His words and reactions and perspective on everything that we've been through certainly make me feel completely accepted. He lets me feel how I need to feel, when I need to feel it (without fear or remorse). I know, that outside of God, Justin's the only one who experienced Dylan's few days right by my side. We went through those days together and continue to experience together in our grief. And there isn't anyone else in the world that I'd rather share with.

Can you recommend any books that you have read that have given you a new insight, hope or courage in this new life you find yourself in?

A good friend of mine gave me Grieving the Child I Never Knew by Kathe Wunnenberg. That is really the only book I read pertaining specifically to the grief of childloss. I've also been working my way through A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis, not necessarily a book about infant loss but provides insights on Lewis' own journey with his wife's death.

How would you describe yourself before you lost your baby. How have you changed, who are you today?

Before Dylan, I was a happy-go-lucky person. My worries were typical for my age (friends, money, career, etc.) I never thought going into my first pregnancy that anything could/would go wrong. I am forever changed by Dylan's life and the experiences we had with him during his days. I've taken on the mentality of "don't sweat the small stuff". Justin and I always joke about how the things that we could be worrying about simply can't compare to losing a child. Therefore, surprisingly, we're pretty worry-free people these days.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6-7

Even in quoting a simple bible verse, we've changed. We're much more faithful and religious people now. And we firmly believe that our faith was a gift from Dylan, by way of God of course.

How do you think you are coping? Do you see any light in this road or is it all dark right now? Where do you imagine yourself to be in a years time?

All in all, I think that we're coping pretty well. I still have my days, here and there, where I feel really sad and/or I need a good cry. Of course, I've seen the light in this journey. I acknowledge the gift of faith that gives Dylan's life so much meaning and purpose.

In a year's time, I hope to be telling Dylan's little brother or sister all about him. I hope that my memories of Dylan will always be strong but continue to grow in fondness and not bitterness. I hope that we can continue to celebrate Dylan's life and the impact that it had on ours.

Thank You Carly!

2009-02-25T17:23:00.003-05:00

I just want to extend my heartfelt gratitude to Carly and everything she does through her Names in the Sand blog. She is a beautiful soul and such an inspiration. Thank you Carly!

What a blessing to finally have Dylan's memorial post on her site. I'm honored just to see it on there.

A Heavy Heart

2009-02-17T18:57:00.002-05:00

Today is Dylan's 8 month angelversary. I have no words, just missing my sweet son more and more each day.

Dichotomy

2009-01-30T06:39:00.007-05:00

This commercial always makes me smile. For obvious reasons, it makes me think about Dylan. It elicits a kind of bittersweet emotion though. On one hand, I think proudly that Dylan would've probably been "that guy". The one all the girls have a crush on and want to hang out with (just like his daddy, of course)!

On the other hand, I start wondering what Dylan would be like as a teenager. And my world is re-shattered by the fact that he will never be a teenager, never learn how to drive a car or take a girl to prom. For me, one of the most difficult things to mourn are the memories Dylan will never get to make, the things that Dylan will never get to do.

It's a wonder how something (like this commercial) can be both heart-warming and heart-breaking at the same time. It's similar to that simultaneous pride and longing that I feel when I look at pictures of Dylan. I miss Dylan dearly, yet I'm also reassured by the fact that he's no longer suffering or in pain and that he's healed and whole in Heaven.

Speechless

2009-01-22T21:47:00.006-05:00

Today, I went to lunch with a couple of co-workers. I forgot how the conversation got there, but one of the girls commented on how sweet my mom was. I agreed, of course, but I couldn't recall where this girl had ever met my mom. I asked and just looked at her blankly because I really couldn't remember. She tried to play it off like she'd forgotten also, and then she said, "You know, at the thing."

Again, I gave her a puzzled look. I had no idea where she was going with this line of gestures, she just kept saying, "The thing, the thing." I really had no idea for a solid couple of seconds, and she started getting antsy. Then I said, "Oh, the memorial [for Dylan]?"

She replied, rather uncomfortably, "Yeah, you know it's hard for me to talk about."

I didn't know what to say. I just kind of smiled uncomfortably. WTF!?!?! And I'm very understanding of the fact that people are uncomfortable, it's a natural human reaction when dealing with death. If you haven't been through tragedy, you don't know how to react to those who have. That being said, I've yet to come across someone who's been afraid to say "memorial" to me . . . until today, of course.

She still wouldn't say it. And when I said it, she immediately changed the subject. I just smiled. It doesn't hurt me to say it! Truthfully, it caught me off-guard. I wasn't angry at her, just speechless.

Some Borrowed Writing

Excerpt from "A Grief Observed"
By C.S. Lewis

If a mother is mourning not for what she has lost but for what her child has lost, it is a comfort to believe that the child has not lost the end for which it was created. And it is a comfort to believe that she herself, in losing her chief or only natural happiness, has not lost a greater thing, that she may still hope to 'glorify God and enjoy Him forever.' A comfort to the God-aimed, eternal spirit within her. But not to her motherhood. The specifically maternal happiness must be written off.

Calling in Sad, err, I mean, Sick

2009-01-15T13:59:00.001-05:00

For the past 3 mornings, I’ve called in sick to work. And while it’s true that I haven’t really felt 100%, it’s probably not because I’m sick, per se. I mean, if I start thinking about it philosophically, I’ll probably never really feel 100% again. There’s truly a part of me missing. In order for Dylan’s heart to be whole, he had to take a little piece of mine up to Heaven with him.

The reality of the situation is that I couldn’t exactly call in sad to work. Here’s how that voicemail would go: “Hey, it’s Katrina. I’m not coming into work today. I’m feeling sad.” Most people in this situation would just suck it up and force themselves to go to work. And, truly, it’s what I’ve been doing for the past 4 months. But I’m a firm believer (and supporter) of mental health days. Sometimes, you just need them. So I put myself on a sabbatical for the past couple of days, to allow myself to grieve and cry (and do so openly, which I can’t do at work).

But, no worries, the guilt will get me back into work tomorrow.

“Pain is there for a reason. It reminds us that we’re human, that we feel.”

I guess I’ve been kind of “coasting” for the past few months. And it’s not even that I don’t feel the pain, it’s more that I cushion it so that people don’t feel uncomfortable being around me. If my general demeanor gives people the idea that I’m “over it”, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. The truth is that I’m faking the funk for them, for their benefit.

Why is it so much easier for people to celebrate with us than it is for people to mourn with us? Why is it so much easier for people to say, “Congratulations” than to say “I’m so sorry for your loss”? I mean, I get it. People generally don’t know what to say. Even the people who offered the standard, “If you need anything” . . . haven’t really been around to follow through. Yeah, I guess you could say that I’m a little disappointed in some people (co-workers and friends alike).

But because I want to end this rant on a positive note, I must remind myself that there are those few beacons of light in my life in the form of supportive, caring, sympathetic people, willing to walk beside us through this difficult journey. I received this note in the mail months ago and never really thought to post it (she doesn’t even know I’m doing this), but it’s the small things like this that remind me that we are not alone:

“The journey of healing takes patience and time, love and support, courage and hope.”

Dear Katrina,

I think of the day Dylan was born. I also remember when I found out how sick he was . . . and the call on the 17th. I was upset. I cried. I was sad for you. I sat and reflected on my family for awhile. I had no idea what you were feeling. I still don’t. But after reading your blog this morning, I feel closer to you and Dylan. It was my first time seeing him. He is beautiful! Your words really touched my heart. My emotions flowed again, much more this time though. I feel I’ve done nothing to comfort you. In fact, I know I haven’t. Truthfully, I don’t know what to do. I want to be able to support you in your recovery process. So for now, I hope this card can convey my sorrow, my hope, my support, and my love. “It is the nature of the world to provide challenges. It is human nature to support one another.” From one mom to another, who both know what it means to truly love – hold that love in your heart – it will help to heal. Thanks for letting me see your angel and share your journey. I think of you often.

What beautiful words, from a beautiful friend. Thank you.

First Oh-Nine Post!

2009-01-09T23:12:00.013-05:00

I got a new camera lens for Christmas and haven't really had any creative use for it yet, so I've been snapping random shots around the house. A few people asked me what we did with Dylan's nursery after he passed. I guess the first thought might be that we packed everything up and put it away. It never occured to Justin and me to do that because we knew that we would try again. We went into our first pregnancy wanting children, and after meeting and losing Dylan, that desire only got stronger. So we shut the nursery door, keeping it just as it was, and knowing/hoping that there would be another baby in our future. Anyway, here are a few nursery accents that I've randomly captured:

I have fallen in love (read: become obssessed with) this quote! I never heard it before our NILMDTS photographer put it on one of Dylan's pictures, but now I feel like I see it all over the place. And, if it's on something I can buy, you better believe I do! We found this beautiful cross on a recent vacation in Charleston.

Justin bought me the frame on top for my birthday. It reads: "Those that we hold in our arms for awhile, we hold in our hearts forever." Dylan is definitely gracing the nursery with his beautiful mug, ready to watch over his little brother or sister.

Belated Thank You

I've mentioned our NILMDTS photographer (http://www.jamesadamhill.com/) in a previous post, and he actually stumbled upon this blog a while ago. He and his wife are such genuinely good people, and I mean good down to the core (the kind of people that Justin and I strive to be). We received the most beautiful gift from them, that they simply decided to do out of the goodness of their hearts. Coincidently, we got it right before Christmas. They'd taken one of the pictures that James shot of Dylan and created the most beautiful canvas print from it. Just like he graces the nursery, Dylan also hangs at the head of our bed, watching over mommy and daddy (thank you a million times over James, we love it! -- there's that quote again, by the way).

Auld Lang Syne

2008-12-30T22:52:00.012-05:00

As we ring in the New Year, saying goodbye to 2008 will be bittersweet. While this year was filled with hardship, tears, and despair, it also marks the birth of our sweet Dylan. May the memories of this year, both bitter and sweet, stay on our minds and in our hearts always and forever.

March

April June

October

I Am Blessed

2008-12-22T16:00:00.004-05:00

This is my husband (Hottie McHotterson):

And this is why I love, admire, and respect him (an e-mail he sent last night):

If ever you needed proof that God exists, just look upon one of his Angels and see for yourself.

Merry Christmas to you all!

In the sixth month, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin's name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you."

Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end."

"How will this be," Mary asked the angel, "since I am a virgin?"

The angel answered, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God."

"I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May it be to me as you have said." Then the angel left her.

Luke 1:26-38

As God's Gabriel serves as his messenger, our Dylan Gabriel serves God's message to us.

Six Months Ago . . .

2008-12-17T14:29:00.001-05:00

. . . Dylan earned his wings. I would say that it was the most heart-wrenching day of my life, but all I remember was the peace. For me, the harder day was a few days after Dylan’s birthday, when we found out that all the doctors could do was "keep him comfortable and let nature take its course". To be told that all hope was lost was absolutely devastating. I never saw this coming, but I guess that’s part of the journey.

I have to believe that the few days we had with him after that was God giving us the time to find that peace. During that time, we questioned and were angry at God. We certainly weren’t thinking about how blessed we were to have to say goodbye to our son, all of that has happened in retrospect.

But by the morning of June 17th, that peace had entered our minds and our hearts and we were ready to let Dylan go. It was quite possibly the quietest and most peaceful moment of my life. I remember the sun blazing into the hospital room window. I had Dylan on my heart, my hand on his head, and Justin right next to us. Perfect. Peace.

Some Borrowed Writing

Don't Say Anything
Author Unknown

Don't tell me "things happen for a reason."
Don't tell me to "keep busy" and "move on."
Don't tell me that you "know how I feel."

Don't tell me that it was "too hard" for YOU
to talk to ME about the death of MY baby boy.

Don't tell me that YOU feel "uncomfortable"
looking at his picture or calling me on his birthday.

Don't SAY anything to try to make me feel better.

Hug me.
Listen to me.
Sit quietly with me.
Let me cry.
Smile when you look at his picture.
Help me plant a tree in his memory.
Allow me to sit in the rocking chair in the nursery.
Light a candle.
Release a balloon.
Walk with me on my journey.
Remember him forever.

Road Less Travelled

2008-12-09T14:35:00.002-05:00

Today, I am 30. When I look back at the timeline I thought I’d be on, I always imagined that I’d have children by 30. And sure, nothing takes away from the fact that I had Dylan and that he is, and will always be, our firstborn. Still, being a parent without a child is inexplicable except to those who live it. This isn’t the road I expected to be on, but it is the one less travelled and what a difference that has made in my life.

Some Borrowed Writing

The Road Not Taken

By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference

If I Must

2008-11-29T17:20:00.007-05:00

Okay, I gave in and finished decorating the Christmas tree today. I put one ornament on the tree last night and just gave up. But the first ornament on our Christmas tree this year was this:

I let the tree sit overnight with just that ornament on it, and then I finally found the desire and energy to finish trimming the tree today. But Dylan's little face sits right in the middle of all of it. And it's the first ornament my eye goes to now, everytime I look at the tree.

*** UPDATE ***

I was bound and determined to have an angel as a tree-topper this year. We've had a rinky-dink star at the top of our tree for the past couple of years. I thought it was time we graduated to an actual angel. We laid down some moolah on this beauty:

She's now a good 20% of our tree, but I love her nonetheless!

And then, we stumbled upon this and just HAD to buy it (of course):

I'm Thankful For

2008-11-27T23:02:00.005-05:00

The following is a short list of "Dylan-isms" that we're thankful for:

1. 6 days of life

2. getting to hold him

3. getting to bathe him

4. he was not a fussy baby

5. getting lost in his beautiful eyes

6. having his entire hand grip tightly around our fingers

7. he was in the care of some of the best medical professionals

8. having tons of pictures of our time with him, that we can cherish forever

9. he was the cutest thing we've ever laid our eyes on (yes, we're partial)

10. the unconditional and irreplaceable love that he brought to our lives

That's just the 10 that I could think of on the spot. I'm sure there's about a million more. I hope everyone's Thanksgiving Day was an enjoyable start to a wonderful holiday season.

Things That Get Me By

2008-11-20T09:37:00.003-05:00

Kindness of Strangers

The apathetic void that I'm feeling at work by those closest to me is actually being filled by people I barely know or don't know at all. Last night, for example, I was shopping for a new dress. I wasn't even set on buying anything, but because these women were so nice and accomodating, I almost felt obligated. They weren't doing it for commission or to get anything else out of it, they were just doing it because they enjoyed their jobs (which many people, including myself, don't have right now).

So my frustration was building in the dressing room, as I was trying on dress after dress that just didn't look as flattering on me as they did on the size 0 mannequins. The lady could probably sense my frustration, so I explained to her that I'd just had a baby a few months ago and I'm not back to my old figure. Well, I finally found a beautiful dress, and after I was done checking out, the lady asked how old my baby was. I said, "Well, I had a son in June, but unfortunately he passed away." The cashier who checked me out almost started crying and she said with much empathy, "I was pregnant 6 times and only have 3 kids." They both said they would pray for me, and I left the store with such a feeling of satisfaction. Sometimes, I just need people to acknowledge my reality, whether or not they understand what I'm going through.

Epiphanies and Enlightenment

I don't discuss much about religion or God on this blog. I'm not a preacher, so I won't preach. I've always believed that people have every right to put their faith where they feel necessary, and I'm not going to be that person that imposes my beliefs on others. Anyway, this next little anecdote is part of my faith journey that I actually wanted to share. I asked Justin if he was angry at God for what happened to Dylan, and he answered quickly and steadfastly, "No". Of course I wanted him to elaborate. After all, he's a father who'd just lost his son, he had every right to be angry and bitter. He said, "God doesn't interfere. He knew exactly what was going to happen, but He doesn't interfere." I was completely taken off gaurd, but in the best way possible. It's like my vision of God was shifted, shaken to the core, but it made perfect sense.

In order for people to believe in Free Will (which I do), you almost have to accept this version (I'm not sure if that's the right word) of God. In order for me to stop being angry at God and shaking my fists in the air (because I don't want to be angry at God), I had to believe that God doesn't desire to punish people. He doesn't will for bad things to happen to anyone. The reality of life is that bad things do happen, and God is simply there for us to pick up the pieces in the aftermath. It absolutely harkens back to the Footprints in the Sand poem. We experience times of trial and suffering, God doesn't stop or prevent that. But that is when God is carrying us. And then Justin showed me this poem:

And God said "no"
-Author Unknown

I asked God to take away my grief,
And God said no-
It is not for me to take away,
But for you to work through.

I asked God to make my broken heart whole,
And God said no-
Your spirit is whole.
Your pain is only temporary.

I asked God to grant me patience,
And God said no-
Patience is a by-product of tribulation.
It isn't granted, it's earned.

I asked God to give me happiness,
And God said no-
I give you blessings.
Happiness is up to you.

I asked God to spare me pain,
And God said no-
suffering draws you apart from worldly cares,
And brings you closer to Me.

I asked God to make my spirit grow,
and God said no-
Grow on your own.
I do the pruning that makes you fruitful.

I asked God if He loved me,
And God said yes-
I gave my only son to die for you.

I asked God to help me love others,
As much as He loves me.
God said, "Ah, finally you have the idea."

Justin's been carrying this on a folded-up piece of paper in his Bible, ever since he "accidentally" stumbled upon it one day at work.

Down Memory Lane

2008-11-19T17:21:00.009-05:00

Or street, whatever the case may be. I had to go to an office building off Clifton Road for work today. I will never forget Clifton Road. It's the street where Egleston Hospital (where Dylan spent his final days) is located. I'm familiar enough with the area to drive the route without needing directions. As I navigated the back roads leading up to Clifton, I found myself turning back to the morning of Saturday, June 14, 2008. After I got released from Northside, Justin and I sat in the car and cried the entire the way to Egleston. We exchanged few words.

Today, as I took the same route, I felt myself flashing back to that ride. It hit me like a ton of bricks, really. I didn't expect it. The tears started flowing down my face, and I looked in my rearview mirror and saw the guy in the car behind me singing to himself and was instantly back in real-time. I wasn't headed to the hospital. I wasn't headed to see Dylan.

And you know, in a sense, it's a relief. I can't imagine what it would be like if Dylan were still in the hospital. As much as I want my son here with me (more than anything in the world), I'm relieved. Just like in the first few minutes after he died, there's that sense of relief that he's no longer pained, no longer suffering, and he's healed and whole in heaven.

Words of Wisdom

2008-11-17T15:43:00.003-05:00

The following is just a list of quotes I've compiled over that last few months that struck me enough to write them down. I don't have sources or authors for any of them, they're merely a compilation of things I heard in passing or read somewhere:

"God's grace is working through you."

"This too shall pass."

"He who does not weep, does not seek."

"The hardest part of saying goodbye is having to do it again every, single day."

"You will soar on wings of eagles. You will run on legs that never get weary."

"Courage is grace under pressure."

"Don't be too scared to live your dreams."

"What you accomplish is never as important as what you had to overcome to accomplish it!"

Realizations

2008-11-11T15:33:00.002-05:00

Dylan would’ve been 5 months today. Looking back on the highs and lows of the last 5 months, I realize how much we’ve overcome. Dylan was a fighter because he took after Justin and I and our fighting spirits. I made the comment to Justin today that we may not have as much money as our friends, but we’re the richest people I know.

I still cry occasionally, but it becomes less and less frequent. I think of Dylan everyday, but rather than hold on to the pain, I celebrate his life. I sit and stare at our many pictures of him with fondness, remembering our handsome son. How cute his feet were. How soft his spiky hair was. How tight his grip was. How amazing it was to stare into his beautiful eyes.

I realize how much this experience has shaped me. I realize the kind of strength it takes. I realize the kind of man I’m privileged to be married to. I realize the burden that we’ve been blessed (yes, blessed) with.

I always tell Justin that this happened to us for a reason. God knew we could handle this, that not every parent can, and that we would come out of this better people than we went into it. The things Dylan has taught us have been priceless. Faith, Strength, Hope. Everything that I am now, I owe to my son.

Closing Thoughts of the Day

“A wife who loses a husband is called a widow.

A husband who loses a wife is called a widower.

A child who loses his parents is called an orphan.

But . . . there is no word for a parent who loses a child,

that's how awful the loss is!”

--J. Neugeborren

“Can you please,

remind me how you feel?

This emptiness is real,

I can't bear the thought of it.

And please, remind me how to smile,

I lost track after awhile.

Is happiness so hard to get?”

--Butch Walker (song lyrics)

Inspired

2008-11-07T15:46:00.004-05:00

This'll just be a "quickie" post. Anyway, while perusing blog sites the other day, I stumbled across http://namesinthesand.blogspot.com/, where they memorialize angelbabies by writing their name in sand. I didn't send in for one of my own, but I did search the site for one (and found two). I thought they were pretty cool:

And then I was inspired to write:

I Wrote Your Name
By Katrina
In Memory of Dylan Gabriel

I wrote your name in the sand,
but the waves washed it away.

I wrote your name in the clouds,
but the wind blew it away.

I wrote your name on the sidewalk,
but the rain drizzled it away.

I wrote your name on a cake,
but the dog ate it away.

I wrote your name on paper,
but it somehow got thrown away.

You wrote your name on our hearts,
where it will never go away.

Just Random Things

2008-11-05T11:06:00.006-05:00

I'm Restless

I'm at work, and I know I don't want to be here right now. I'd rather be at home taking care of Dylan. There are random times in my day-to-day life when I stop because I get the overwhelming feeling that I should be doing something, and then I realize exactly what it is. I should be taking care of Dylan. I haven't personally felt the "heavy arms" phenomenon, but maybe this is what it feels like to have a heavy heart.

My Husband's Profound

I know that what Justin and I share is a deep and passionate and profound love. It's what I've always wanted in my life. Justin completes me; we complete each other. The sheer and utter strength of our relationship having survived what we have this year will only continue to grow.

And when I have no words (which is rare), he always has the perfect ones. Yesterday, he cc'd me on an e-mail he wrote to his aunt. His words were so touching and eloquent: "Its become very easy and even refreshing to talk about Dylan, and always wonderful to look at pictures of him. We've got them up all over and can't help but smile every time we see our little angel. We know that he's with God in Heaven and nothing ill can come to him now. We take comfort in knowing that HE's the lucky one, and WE're the ones that have to work through this rough world. We just have to remember that our hearts may be broken with him gone, but our spirits are whole with Christ."

Justin is so inspiring. After everything went down with Dylan, there was one constant that I could find peace in: "I know one thing's for sure. Justin is a wonderful father," I would tell people. Most people don't get a chance to "test-drive" their parenting skills (pardon the analogy). But I had the utmost pleasure to watch Justin in action. I can stand firm in knowing that there isn't a prouder or better or more loving father out there.

Closing Borrowed Writing

A Different Child

by Pandora MacMillian

People notice

There's a special glow around you.

You grow

Surrounded by love,

Never doubting you are wanted;

Only look at the pride and joy

In your mother and father's eyes.

And if sometimes

Between the smiles

There's a trace of tears,

One day

You'll understand.

You'll understand

There was once another child

A different child

Who was in their hopes and dreams.

That child will never outgrow the baby clothes

That child will never keep them up at night

In fact, that child will never be any trouble at all.

Except sometimes, in a silent moment,

When mother and father miss so much

That different child.

May hope and love wrap you warmly

And may you learn the lesson forever

How infinitely precious

How infinitely fragile

Is this life on earth.

One day, as a young man or woman

You may see another mother's tears

Another father's silent grief

Then you, and you alone

Will understand

And offer the greatest comfort.

When all hope seems lost,

You will tell them

With great compassion,

"I know how you feel.

I'm only here

Because my mother tried again."

First November Post

2008-11-04T11:14:00.008-05:00

I'm a Voter

I won't go into a political rant or discuss the candidates. Rather than tell you who I voted for, I will share why I voted. The whole time I waited in line, I thought about Dylan and how I would've been shaping his future. I thought about the environment and education. I thought about the health industry. As Justin and I continue to move on without Dylan here, we must keep faith that more children are in our future and that our votes today will make a difference in their lives also.

Halloween Aftermath

So yesterday, when my co-workers asked how my Halloween went, my constant answer was "mellow". And it was pretty chill, but what I really wanted to say was, "Well, I wish Dylan was there."

Our Dog's Intuition

I always wonder if dogs are inherently intuitive. When we look at our dog Inu, sometimes we say, "I wonder what he's thinking". I asked Justin the other day if Inu knew what happened to us in June, if he understood what was happening the whole time I was pregnant. I read a few books that said dogs can "smell" it. But could he comprehend the fact that we left for the hospital and came back days and days later empty-handed? Could he understand what happened?

Being the lucky recipient of all the extra love and attention we came home with, he probably had some idea. He probably realizes that the door to Dylan's nursery always stays closed. And he's always there to wipe (or lick) the tears off my face if I've been crying. Yeah, he knows.

Closing Borrowed Writing

Thoughts on Becoming a Mother
-Author Unknown

There are women that become mothers without effort, without thought, without patience or loss and though they are good mothers and love their children, I know that I will be better.

I will be better not because of genetics, or money or that I have read more books but because I have struggled and toiled for this child. I have longed and waited. I have cried and prayed. I have endured and planned over and over again.

Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams. I will notice everything about my child. I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore and discover. I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life.

I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold and feed him and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream. My dream will be crying for me.

I count myself lucky in this sense; that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child that my friends will not see.

Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that God leads me to, I will not be careless with my love.

I will be a better mother for all that I have endured. I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend and sister because I have known pain.

I know disillusionment as I have been betrayed by my own body. I have been tried by fire and hell many never face, yet given time, I stood tall.

I have prevailed.

I have succeeded.

I have won.

So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs.

I listen.

And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely. I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth and when life is beyond hard. I have learned a compassion that only comes with walking in those shoes.

I have learned to appreciate life.

Yes I will be a wonderful mother.

Halloween

2008-10-28T10:10:00.010-04:00

Halloween has always been our favorite holiday as a couple. We found out we were pregnant last year just before Halloween, and already we started thinking about costume ideas for our new addition. I even got a few e-mails from friends earlier this year about how excited they were to see what we would dress Dylan up in for Halloween.

This year, we're hosting the big Halloween party for all of our friends at our house. We went shopping for some decor and provisions last night, and as I walked around the aisles, I came across the infant costumes. It really stings to not be able to pick one out for Dylan. It stings that we're not going to have him to dress up and show off for Halloween. It just really stings.

Pontifications on Life

2008-10-21T10:32:00.001-04:00

Choices

I recently had a thought that choices exist in absolutely everything we do in life. There are very few instances when one can truly say, “I had no choice.” You choose how to raise your kids. You choose how to treat your friends. You choose whether or not to go to work.

I have recently used my “I had no choice” card. Someone made the statement to me that she didn’t know how I managed to go to Dylan’s memorial. In my mind, I could not choose to skip it.

Don’t They Communicate?

Hospitals, I mean. In July (when Justin and I took a vacation, trying to escape the rest of the world), we got a call from a lady asking if Dylan had completed the vision and hearing testing required by the state. I responded back, “I’m sorry. He’s passed.” The lady said, “Oh, he passed. Do you have the results?” I reiterated, “Actually, he passed away.” She apologized profusely, but the poor lady couldn’t get off the phone fast enough.

Just last month, a lady from Northside (where Dylan was born) called to ask a similar question. I finally asked the lady to update us in her little computer, trying my best to avoid sounding the least bit irritated.

Then there was my first post-op trip back to my OB’s office. The nurse there (who’s as sweet as can be) asked me how the baby was. I told her that Dylan didn’t make it, and she was so sorry. She told me, “We had a feeling but were never told.” There should be some kind of alert system for the doctors and hospitals to be informed when something like this happens.

Hospital Bills

“How are we ever going to afford this?” I’m sure everyone thinks that when they’re getting ready to have a baby for the first time. We thought about it, especially when we found out that Dylan was going to need 3 surgeries on his heart after birth. We went ahead and doubled-up on insurance, getting coverage with both my and Justin’s employers. When we filled out the hospital forms, we made sure they knew we would have primary and secondary coverage. So when the bills roll in, I always dread opening them a little especially the ones that are multiple pages. When you have the word “Continued” in the amount due box that can’t be good. Imagine my relief when I flip the page and it’s only like $21. Ahh, insurance. I especially enjoy the letters from the insurance companies that are like a beacon, forewarning you of bills that will come.

I complain in jest, but I just wish, more than anything in the world, that Dylan was here with us regardless of whatever financial hardships we would face with his medical condition.

Timelines

One of my favorite parts about working in the television industry is editing video. In every video editing program that I’ve ever worked on, everything is done on a timeline. Timelines are something that I can take real comfort in. You have control over everything, including where to put start and end points. It’s all very black and white.

Life, not so much. Start and end points are all grey. How is this relevant to anything at all? (I know, I digress.) Every time people ask Justin and I if we’re going to try [having kids] again, we both answer without hesitation, “Yes, of course!” We went into our pregnancy wanting kids, and now more than ever, we still want them. That desire didn’t just go away.

When’s the right time to start trying, though? That point isn’t defined on some kind of cosmic timeline for us. It’s hard because we struggle with making sure we’ve given ourselves adequate time to grieve. Then we realize that we’ll be grieving for the rest of our lives. And for me in particular, I don’t want people judging us and thinking it’s too soon for us to want to have kids again.

I was flipping through the newsletter from our support group, and there was a section in there with birth announcements. Each announcement was set up so you could see the date of their previous loss and then the new addition’s date of birth. I mentally calculated in my head how long each of the couples waited to see if I could get a definitive answer on this. But then, the more and more I think about it, the more and more I feel that timing is different for everyone. Some people waited years, others months. What’s right for you may not be right for us. Justin and I will have to figure that out for ourselves because, at the end of the day, we all do stuff in our own time.

Closing Thoughts of the Day

“Those that live long lives have much to learn, but those who die young are here to teach.” --Bhuddist saying

“If you lose a parent, you lose your past

If you lose a spouse, you lose your present

If you lose a child, you lose your future”

Yet Another Rewind

2008-10-20T10:26:00.001-04:00

The Memorial Service

Life after Dylan's 6 days was numb. I didn't really have time to digest or feel what was going on around me. We got home (on Tuesday) and immediately started planning a memorial (for Thursday, the only day our Priest was available to do the service for another 2 weeks). The turnaround was quick, but we managed to pull everything together. We sent out bulk texts and e-mails, knowing that on 2-days notice, alot of people probably weren't going to make it.

Our NILMDTS photographer and his wife graciously turned around a few pictures for us to use at the memorial. We were e-mailing back-and-forth until after midnight on Wednesday. Justin's brother put together a beautiful slideshow of the pictures that we'd taken at both hospitals to display in the church lobby. Justin and I made memorial cards for the attendees to have. Again, we only had like 40 printed, thinking we'll probably get some of those back. We even chose all the readings for the service. I think keeping busy was also keeping us from getting emotional.

On Thursday morning, we had more running around to do. I bought a new dress to wear to the memorial, but not because I needed one. It reminded me of a scene from Sex and the City, when Miranda's mother died. She said, "I'll probably just buy a lousy black dress that I'll never wear again." I felt the same way. After I wear this dress to my son's memorial, I'll probably never want to wear it again (of course I don't do lousy, so I ended up buying a dress from Banana Republic). And I started thinking about more scenes in my head, like in Steel Magnolias after Shelby's funeral when her mother said, "I realize as a mother how lucky I am. I was there when that beautiful creature drifted into my life, and I was there when [he] drifted out. . . I just want to know why?! . . . No, it's not supposed to happen this way, I'm supposed to go first. I've always been ready to go first." It's always so tragic when parents have to bury their own children. It's not right, it seems like it messes up the whole cosmos of everything.

When we got to the church I made my way inside after greeting a few people in the lobby. I enjoyed that quiet time before people started filing in to just sit and let it all sink in. Up to that point, I hadn't done that yet. I began to sob. What I didn't realize when I sat down was that Justin and I were to be part of the processional when the Priest came in. So after everyone seated themselves, Justin came up to get me. When I turned around, I saw for the first time that the church was almost full (more full than some of our Sunday masses). I was overwhelmed, but I tried to make as little eye contact as I possibly could because I didn't want to lose it before the memorial even started. I think Justin carried my entire weight up the aisle.

The memorial was perfect. I pretty much kept myself from crying the entire time until Justin went up to read. Our Priest told us that if we wanted to, we could prepare something to read but that it wasn't necessary. I knew that I would not be able to carry myself well if I went up there, but Justin was bound and determined to do so. He wrote a beautiful piece, and before he even started reading, I could already hear people crying. Not 1 or 2 words came out of his mouth before his voice started cracking, and I so badly wanted someone to go up there and read it for him. But he continued. His strength of character was so strong and evident at that very moment. I don't think there was a dry eye in the house.

After the recessional, we ended up in the lobby just standing there not knowing exactly what to do. All of a sudden, I noticed these lines start forming in front of Justin and I, kind of like the receiving line at a wedding. People were coming up to hug us and say their condolences. There were even people there who we'd never met before, alot of them members of the church. It was fascinating how I'd react to the different people in line. In some cases, the exchange was very casual and I was completely fine. In others, I would bust out crying and just fall into the person's arms. And for some people, they lost it and needed my strength and support to hold them up.

The memorial cards went so fast that some people came up to us and asked if we had any more. I was not prepared for this many people to show up. We felt blessed to have Dylan's life honored by so many people. Alot of our co-workers even made it.

Justin said he could definitely tell the difference between people who came up to him that were parents and those that weren't. There's that level of sympathy that you have from another parent, and that whole underlying, "I don't know how you can go through this" thought.

Work

Justin returned to work a mere 2 weeks after Dylan's death. It was an extremely difficult transition for him because he would still have people visit him at his desk to ask how the baby was, not knowing the entire situation. I, on the other hand, took the full amount of paid-time off I could take (12 weeks total, supported by the rest of my vacation and personal days for the year). During this time, I grappled with returning back to work. I thought about how much easier it would be to just get a new job where no one knew me, where I wouldn't have to face the questions or the sympathetic looks. By the end of August, though, I decided that I needed to just suck it up. Justin had to go back to work, and he survived. Why couldn't I do the same thing?

The first Monday after Labor Day, I went back to work. It was actually much easier than I anticipated. Most people would just "duck and cover" when they saw me, to completely avoid any uncomfortable situations. The more and more people saw that I was fine and would not just break into tears when they came around, the more and more people started treating me like nothing happened (just like the good ole days). See, that's what bothers me, though. It happened. My son died. While I realize that most people don't want to sit down and have in-depth conversations with me about it, I do wish that more people at least acknowledged it.

Support Group

We attended a perinatal loss support group at one point. I think I would've been fine had the date not been the 11th (Dylan would've been 2 months old). The 11th and the 17th of every month have been dates that are particularly emotional for me. Another emotional one was the 4th of July (my original due date). Anyway, we got into this small room where the chairs were set up in a circle. Each chair had a travel-size package of Kleenex on it. I thought, "Oh, great" and prepared myself for an outpouring of emotions. We went around the room for each couple to share. When it came time for us, Justin had to talk because I was already knee-deep in the Kleenex. It was amazing how everyone's story was so different, but we were all there for the same thing. For the first time, we weren't getting sympathetic "I'm so sorry for you" looks. We were getting empathetic "I know what you mean" nods. I was comforted by the fact that these people actually understood what we were going through and could relate.

Saying Something Wrong

I've read many grief and loss books and pamphlets. I'm amazed when I read the "What Not to Say" passages. Surely, people don't say things like that, right? My Priest forwarned us that we would be angered by some of the things people say, but to give them the benefit of the doubt becuase they're only trying to help. I won't tack on a list of things to not say. What I will do, however, is list the things that helped me, even if they weren't all verbal:

1. "You have handled this with so much grace."
2. "I admire your strength."
3. "We will continue to pray for you, Justin, and Dylan."
4. Sending an e-mail that simply says, "You're on my mind."
5. Sending a card in the mail.
6. Making a donation in Dylan's name to the children's hospital or NILMDTS.
7. Getting a beautiful necklace with Dylan's name engraved on it.
8. Getting me out of the house during my "hiatus" to do lunch.
9. Asking to see the nursery.
10. Sending us a tree (one of the more unique gifts we received), to symbolize the promise of growth and more life.

Walk to Remember

2008-10-19T21:09:00.000-04:00

Today, I had both the pleasure and opportunity to participate in the 4th Annual Atlanta Walk to Remember. Justin had to leave this morning for a business trip and couldn't go (this is the first time we've been apart since losing Dylan). I'd initially thought that I would tough it out and go alone. I'd reconsidered that thought earlier in the week though. Fortunately, one of my best girlfriends stepped in and shared the experience with me (thanks Crystal). It was an absolutely gorgeous day. The sky was clear blue, and there was a nice breeze blowing that kept us all from getting too hot.

The program included a few speakers, including parents sharing their own stories and original writings. I did not get too emotional until a young lady stepped up to the podium and started singing a song entitled "Precious Child". To be honest, I'm not even sure I could hear all the words. She just kept hitting these high notes that made everyone in the audience start spontaneously crying. Lucky for all of us, there were boxes of tissues on every other chair!

I do fine until I see or hear other people cry, that's when I get the most hysterical. Crying is so contageous to me. Anyway, after all the speakers and the cry-inducing singing, we took a quick walk around the grounds and all gathered back for the balloon release. They gave all the attendees a chance to write messages to our little angels on these cute, purple butterflies. I didn't want to get too emotional, so I quickly grabbed one of the butterflies and scribbled, "Hey Dill, Mommy and Daddy just wanted to tell you that we LOVE you and MISS you very, very much. Always our little angel, love you!"

I'll share a picture of the butterfly Crystal filled out for Dylan and some other pics from the day's events (thanks again to Crystal for taking over the camera so I could be in some of the shots).

To close out, I'd like to include the quote from the cover of today's program: "When you come to the edge of all the light you know and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing one of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught to fly." - Author Unknown

A Writer Who Doesn't Write

2008-10-18T23:37:00.000-04:00

Ever since I can remember, I had a real passion for writing. I was editor-in-chief of my high school paper. I majored in Journalism in college. I've just always enjoyed how a series of words could make a person feel anything and everything. I'm still fairly new at this whole blogging business, but I already enjoy it. For me, it fills something in my heart that makes me excited and proud to be writing again. I'm saddened that my inspiration to return to writing was as a result of losing Dylan, but I'm honored to have that story to share. I'm humbled to have people read this. So now, I guess I should share some writing. First, I wrote the following letter to Dylan when we were in the hospital with him:

Dylan,

It's hard for me to not feel cheated or teased by God for taking you from us too soon. I have to think of you as being much too precious and good, too perfect for this world.

We haven't shared nearly enough time together for me to shower you with the love I hold in my heart for you, but I'm sure you'll take that love and more up to Heaven with you.

Please know that your Daddy and I were overjoyed and excited about getting to spend our lives with you. And now we're blessed with the thought that you'll always be watching over us from your perch up above.

You are and will always be our little guardian angel. Thank you for blessing us with the time that you did have for us. I will cherish this time forever.

You get to go to a place where there are no monitors, or tubes, or pumps in your stomach. You get to go to a place free of pain, or worry, or discomfort (even though your pouty face is still so cute)!

I will think of you and Pray for you everyday for the rest of my life, and I know Daddy will too. You are an amazing miracle that I had the blessing and opportunity to hold for the last 9 months.

You're the best thing that's ever happened to us, and nothing's ever going to change that. I hope you know how much you're loved--by Mommy, by Daddy, and by everyone else whose life you've already graced.

As I say to Daddy every single night: "Good night, sweet Prince!" Mommy and Daddy love you very much!

More recently, I wrote this poem to Dylan:

Unfulfilled
By Katrina
In Memory of Dylan Gabriel

My arms long to hold you
To rock you to your sleep
To bring you close to my heart
And comfort you while you weep

My eyes long to see you
To gaze upon your face
To stare into your perfect eyes
And witness God's good grace

My hands long for your tiny grasp
To let you hold onto me
To show me just how strong you are
And how strong I must be

My lips long to kiss you
To sing you many songs
To read you bedtime stories
And tell you nothing's wrong

My body aches from missing you
And my heart is incomplete
But one day we shall reunite
At Heaven's gate, we'll meet.

6 Days

2008-10-17T20:03:00.001-04:00

Life is far too short when it is merely measured by days or, in some cases, minutes.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Our first son Dylan Gabriel Brooks was born at 6:25 PM on June 11, 2008. The operating room experience was, in one word, bizarre. The lights were all aimed at me like some kind of sci-fi movie. All the doctors' and nurses' faces were covered with masks. It felt like there were hundreds of them. They placed a sheet coming up from my chest to cover my line of sight. I assume to keep me from seeing myself cut in half as well. They let Justin back into the room.

The doctor did an initial cut to make sure I didn't feel anything, and then he proceeded to bring Dylan into the world. Not 10 minutes after he started, they put Dylan up over the curtain so that we could catch a quick glimpse. He was 4 lbs 10 oz, a little gooey, alien-looking creature. Then they quickly whisked him away so that he could be evaluated by the perinatalogist. None of that was really any surprise to me. Because of Dylan's existing heart condition, I was prepared for the fact that he would be taken away almost immediately. Meanwhile, I'm getting stitched up and rolled out to recovery. We had to wait about an hour in recovery for my blood pressure to stabilize (surprise-surprise) before they wheeled me back up to my room.

Justin ran back and forth between the recovery room and the waiting room, where a handful of our family and friends were eagerly awaiting the news. When we were finally back in the room, our guests all came in to visit and see how mommy was doing. Dylan was already in the NICU at this point. After about another hour, the perinatalogist came into the room to tell us her findings. Everyone left the room, and she informed Justin and I what they could tell from their initial screenings. She told us Dylan was VACTERYL and explained the condition to us. First, she told us Dylan had an extra vertebrae (V). A cardiologist came and confirmed the congenital heart condition, HRHS (C). Finally, and what ended up being the most serious of all his conditions, his renal (kidney) funtion was questionable (R). They still weren't sure if he had 2 kidneys and whether or not they were funtioning. Further screenings would need to take place when Dylan got transferred to Children's Healthcare of Atlanta.

Once our family and friends left the hospital, I spent the rest of the night in my room attempting to sleep off the pain. And Justin spent every chance he could excitedly walking over to the NICU to visit Dylan.

Thursday

Still no word on the transfer to CHOA/Egleston. They were waiting for spots to open up before they would take him over there. And because, all in all, Dylan was stable, he kept getting pushed back for newborns who needed the transfer more urgently than he did. When I woke up that morning, I was bound and determined to go to the NICU to see my son. Justin couldn't have all the fun without me. It was a chore just to sit up, but I finally made it over there. Justin wheeled me through the hospital, and he seemed to know the route like the back of his hand from his numberous trips to see Dylan. He was so amazing to look at. I just sat in my wheelchair and stared at him in fascination. Justin and I had created this life, the most handsome boy in the whole wide world (he takes after his daddy).

Friday

By early evening on Friday, the transport was finally ready to take Dylan to CHOA/Egleston. Justin and I just happened to be in the NICU visiting him and anxiously watched as they packed our son up in a travelling incubator. At this point, my doctor had not released me from the hospital yet, so Justin rode with Dylan in the ambulance. Honestly, the thought had not yet crossed my mind that I should be alarmed for any reason. I knew he was going to be in good hands at Egleston. Justin sent me text updates the whole time he was there.

At Egleston, there was a whole team of people eagerly waiting to meet Dylan. Justin told me, "He's the most popular kid on the block already." It took hours for all the doctors to run their various tests. Justin went to spend some quiet time with Dylan, and when the doctors returned, they dropped the bombshell on him. After an in-depth ultrasound, they discovered that Dylan only had one kidney, and they were almost certain it was not functioning. They drew some blood and said they would run some tests on it. By the morning, they would be able to give us a difinitive answer based on the creatinine levels. Justin stayed with Dylan for another hour. He was so torn between not wanting to leave his son and having me in the hospital with no idea of the extremity of the situation.

When he text me that he was on his way back, my gut had already told me that something was not quite right. As he relayed his day's ordeal with me, we both just cried. Friday night was the first time I'd really thought about the urgency of what Dylan was facing.

Saturday

If the creatinine levels confirmed that his kidney was not funtioning, our options would be very limited. When Justin woke up on Saturday morning, all he could think about was getting back to Egleston to be with Dylan. He was in Dylan's room for 5 minutes before the perinatalogist and surgeon came down to explain the blood results. What they'd found was the worst-case scenario. Dylan's creatinine levels were 5x higher than a normal kidney would allow, indicating kidney failure. The creatinine level would eventually cause the rest of his vital organs to shut down.

The options were minimal. He was too young for a transplant because the anti-rejection drugs would be toxic. Internal or external dialysis was not feasible because of his heart condition. We were basically left with a very sick baby and no viable choices.

Justin rushed back to Northside to have me released, so that we could be together as a family. We had to track down my doctor as he was doing his rounds and explain the urgency of the situation to him. I just sat in the hospital room and waited, stared out the window and waited. Once the nurses knew what was going on, they were all very accommodating. They found a wheelchair and took me through the back hallways of the hospital. Justin pulled the car around, where the rest of the mothers were loading up their babies to take them home. I sat in my wheelchair, no baby, and with the full knowledge of the battle Dylan was facing at Egleston.

When we got to Egleston, I just took Dylan into my arms and cried. We were trying to be as rational as we possibly could with the situation, and Justin's first thought was to call our Priest so that he could come to the hospital and baptize Dylan. We had no idea at this point how much time he had, so our sense of urgency was high. Our Priest got to the hospital a few hours later and performed the baptism for us. Again, I just held Dylan in my arms the whole time and cried.

After a few more hours, they told us they would move us into one of the step-down rooms in the NICU, where babies recover from surgery. That way, we could have our own private room and bathroom. A social worker came to visit us in the room and asked if we needed anything. She also suggested that we contact the Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep (NILMDTS) foundation, an organization of volunteer photographers that came out to hospitals and took pictures of terminally-ill or recently passed infants and their families for free. She even went ahead and coordinated some time for a photographer to come visit.

Sunday (Father's Day)

Our NILMDTS photographer took time away from spending Father's Day with his own family so that he could take pictures for us. He was an absolutely amazing person and photographer. He came into the room and just immediately started snapping shots with Dylan. Dylan was sleeping, until the flash they'd brought kept going off. He woke up, very reactive, and wanting to follow the flash everytime it went off, that shutterbug (just like mom and dad)!

We were able to have his tubes removed for the pictures. The hospital also had a beautiful garden area, where we had the opportunity to take some really great outside shots. Most of the pictures on this page are from our NILMDTS photographer, thank you James (http://www.jamesadamhill.com/)!

The whole time we were at Egleston, we did not want any visitors. It was too hard to see family or friends at this point. By Sunday night, though, we sent a text out to our immediate family. We invited them to say their last goodbyes to Dylan, if they desired to do so. Justin and I escaped to the chapel to be alone and pray, while they all visited.

Monday

Our time at the hospital was spent dealing with a real roller coaster of emotions. We rejoiced in the time we got to spend with Dylan. We were angry over what he was having to go through. We were scared of what was going to happen from here. We were sad that we would have to say goodbye soon. We took turns holding him the whole time, basically only putting him down when a nurse came in to check his vitals.

I wrote this on Monday, our last full day with Dylan:

Dylan is 5 days old today. Our little man is such a soldier. He's been so strong and undergone so much pain in his short lifetime. It's hard to see him suffer. Justin and I decided to start him on morphine last night. He was more fussy than usual, and even though we knew the pain medication would knock him out, we just wanted to take all his suffering away.

We spend our days and nights sleeping in shifts, forcing ourselves to eat when our bodies beg for the nourishment, and holding Dylan (our most precious time of all). We talk to him, sing to him, read, everything we can to let him know Mommy and Daddy are around. Even the silent moments with him in our arms is dear.

Now, the hardest part is knowing exactly what's going to happen, but having no clue in the world what to expect or what it will be like. We had a momentary scare this morning when the alarm sounded that his breathing was slowed and his heart rate had decelerated. I remember Justin saying, "That's what it's going to be like", but there is still no preparing for it.

We got him more morphine, and he's been sleeping soundly since. Never before in my life did I experience such a roller coaster of emotions. There's that overwhelming and instantaneous joy that I felt on Wednesday, when Dylan finally decided to grace this world and then there's that ultimate devastation from knowing that his days with us would be so limited. Never before could I know what the meaning of "being on borrowed time" really meant until now.

And in between the joy and devastation, there's a whole spectrum of other emotions that mostly just leave us drained and numb to the world until we force ourselves to sleep it off for a few hours. As a Mother, I just want to harbor both Dylan's and Justin's pain and worries from them. I want to take Dylan in my arms and lull him away from all this. It breaks my heart to know that this is the only life he'll ever know.

I hold such anger towards God for putting us through this. There are moments when I'm all cried out though, and I just have to smile at Dylan and feel blessed to have had him at all. I have to think to myself that God is calling our little angelic son Home.

I worry also that, after everything is said and done, Justin and I will have a difficult time trying to find any sort of happiness or beauty in life. After this whole ordeal, how can our hearts ever heal and not feel cold and callus towards the rest of the world? How long before we're able to face our family and friends?

How long before I'll want to hear about another person's baby without holding any sort of jealousy or resentment towards them?

I guess only time will tell with all of these things. Maybe Justin and I were put through all of this because we're the only ones truly stong and brave enough to survive such a tragic loss. God would not burden us with more than we can handle, right?

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

We were getting minimal sleep in the hospital. Justin wanted one of us to be awake when the time came, so we took turns holding Dylan. His heart and breathing function had already failed several times throughout the night, but it was as if his body just kept jumpstarting. Our eyes were glued to the monitor, thinking that would give us a definitive answer on when he'd pass. But at this point, our bodies were exhausted. We both needed sleep and food.

Justin wheeled the pull-out chair that we'd been sleeping in closer to Dylan's monitors. The three of us stuffed ourselves into the chair and fell asleep as a family. I had Dylan on my chest, and we just dozed off. I'm not sure how much time passed before a nurse came in to check on us. I woke up as she was leaving the room. I looked over at the monitor, and Dylan's breathing had slowed. I didn't want to wake Justin up because I thought it could've been another one of the dips in his vitals that we'd endured all night. But it felt different this time. I watched the breathing monitor flatline for a good three minutes before I woke Justin up and told him.

I think it was mildly appropriate that he passed away on my chest, where he could hear my heartbeat, the sound he'd gotten so used to for 9 months. We called the nurse in. We had no idea what to do. No idea. She asked us if we wanted to bathe him and clothe him. We spent the next half-hour doing just that. We put him in this adorable gown with blue dogbones all over it. It had a puppy on the front and said "My Dog" (it reminded us of Inu).

Leading Up To Dylan's Birth

2008-10-15T22:26:00.000-04:00

I lit a candle for Dylan today, in honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. I know I don't need a special day to remember Dylan, I will remember him everyday for the rest of my life. But it's still nice, you know? Justin and I walked up to church and lit 5 candles, the first for Dylan (of course), and 4 others for the things weighing heavy on our hearts right now. When I got home, I lit just about every candle I could find (I bet Dylan can see the lights from Heaven ;).

June 2008, the month that changed our lives forever, the month that will go down in infamy in my book. From 30 weeks on, my pregnancy consisted of 5 baby showers, twice weekly doctor appointments, childbirth prep class, a hospital tour . . . you know, the usual. I had a regular appointment at my OB on the afternoon of June 2nd. My blood pressure was higher than normal and the amniotic fluid was just below the level it should be. My doctor told me to go straight to the hospital from there and check myself in, do not pass Go, do not collect $200. I ran home just to grab my hospital paperwork and give our dog Inu some lovin' (I didn't even pack a bag). At the end of the week, I would be 36 weeks along (I thought that was plenty, and I really wasn't freaking out). I gave Justin a call on the way to the hospital, and he met me there.

My first night there I was in the Urgent Care area of the hospital, right next to the ER. My doctor came to see me that night and told me that I would be staying overnight. They administered an IV of magnesium (to prevent seizures). That was excruciating (still gives me chills thinking about it, and I have a high pain tolerance). Anyway, my doctor's fear, of course, was preeclampsia. A tech from Maternal Fetal came that night and performed an ultrasound.

The amniotic fluid was fine at that point, but I would still have to sleep off the magnesium in that hospital room overnight. When my doctor came to see me the next day, he said he was recommending STRICT bedrest, and that I would need to stay in the hospital for the remainder of my pregnancy. They moved me up the the High-Risk Pregnancy wing that night. At least I'd be surrounded by other preggos at that point. By the end of the week, I accepted the fact that this is where I'd be until I got to meet Dylan. I got alot of sleep though. I thought, this may be the last time I can get some good sleep for a while. I took full advantage, and my BP stabilized.

On Monday of the following week, a Maternal Fetal tech came to do another ultrasound. The amniotic fluid was back "on the fence", but still no alarms. They came back on Wednesday morning to check on the amniotic level again. That morning, the fluid was down slightly more, and the Maternal Fetal doctor told me she would inform my OB. Shortly after, at around 9 AM on Wednesday morning, the Maternal Fetal doctor told me that they were scheduling me for a C-section at 6 that evening. Wow, waiting until 6 PM was emotional. I had no idea what to expect, and that freaked me out ALOT. I called Justin to come back (he'd spent every night at the hospital with me the whole time I was there, and he had just left for work about an hour earlier). He started making calls to family and friends, and the nerves just kept building.

He must've sensed my brain going in a million different directions, so he sat next to me on the bed and put on a movie. We watched Knocked Up, which I thought was mildly appropriate. We just sat in my hospital bed and laughed at the movie, it definitely took the edge off. A nurse popped in during one of the sex scenes, and Justin couldn't press pause fast enough. I got a little chuckle about that too. I didn't just sit and watch the clock the whole time, Justin helped me stay calm and relaxed. 6 PM was coming, and I was a bundle of excitement, fear, uncertainty, everything at once. I just couldn't wait to welcome Dylan into the world already!

Pregnancy, Interrupted

2008-10-14T10:50:00.000-04:00

After we got over the hump of telling everyone, I could finally tell the world. I posted the following on my Myspace page on December 29, 2007:

It’s Real

I wrote this after my first doctor's appointment (12.03.2007). Now that we've told everyone the news, I can actually post it:

I heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time today. Today, it became real. Not that it wasn't real before, but now it's tangible. The doctor took an U/S picture for us, and showed us the heartbeat. It's real!

We're going to do our best, against all odds and our excitement and anxiety, to hold the news from everyone until Christmas. We'll see how that goes. But, in all fairness, it's been 2 months since I initially found out. No one knows, that we know of . . . it's going to be quite a December to remember!

Right now, we have a nubbin. Come 4th of July next year (approximately), we'll have our first baby. We're already so proud! And I still can't get over the fact that the U/S actually picks up an image this early on. We saw it with our own eyes, even the fluttering of it's little heart!

10 Random Facts About My Pregnancy:

10. I had high blood pressure before I got pregnant. (Hereditary, a gift from my mom).

9. This was going to be the first grandchild for Justin's parents and the third for mine.

8. This was my first pregnancy.

7. We originally decided not to find out the sex of the baby.

6. Our theme on the registry was Winnie the Pooh (mainly for its neutral colors).

5. We painted the nursery purple and gold (big LSU Tigers fans), so much for neutral.

4. I had no morning sickness.

3. I eventually got Gestational Diabetes.

2. Our dog growled at me everytime I got out of bed in the middle of the night to potty.

1. I was hospitalized twice (both for high blood pressure), the second time for 10 days before Dylan's birthday.

I didn't really think this wasn't going to be a run-of-the-mill pregnancy. The thought never crossed my mind that anything could (or would) go wrong. We'd started calling the baby "Nubbins" early on (most people go with "Peanut" or something similar, and since we usually go against the grain of what most people do, we decided on "Nubbins"). I posted the following on my Myspace page on January 9, 2008:

Nubbins is Now Tubbins!

I had another doctor's appoinment on Monday morning at the Maternal Fetal Specialist. I will have to go there every four weeks, in addition to my regular OB appointments. My doctor just wants to make sure that my blood pressure doesn't have any negative affects on the baby's development or anything else, but it appears that baby is developing just fine. Justin and I got to look at another U/S. Baby is 4 ounces already, which they told me was normal but it sounds big! The funny part is, I didn't even notice the hearbeat this time. Baby was all curled up and kicking, and the crazy motion of arms and legs all over the screen was just so fascinating.

I posted the following on my Myspace page on February 5, 2008:

Nubbins is Stubborn Already!

We had an appoinment at the specialist yesterday, so of course I'm excited about getting new pictures. Unfortunately, Nubbins was not as excited to come out and pose for the camera. I spent what felt like an eternity getting my center poked endlessly by the U/S probe, but to no avail. Nubbins was curled up tight as a fist (chin and knees to chest) and was in no mood to come out and play.

The U/S tech was getting so frustrated about not getting any of the measurements that she needed. Which also means, she was not able to check the "junk", if you will. We still don't know if it's going to be a pee pee or a puakinekine [this is the Tagalog word for girly parts], so don't even bother asking. See, that's just a sign that we're not supposed to find out! Next appointment is Monday . . . wish us luck!

The bottom dropped on my seemingly "normal" pregnancy at my 20-week appointment. I posted the following on my Myspace page on February 25, 2008:

Our 20-Week Bombshell

2.12.2008
My high blood pressure was a blessing in disguise. Ever since the beginning of my pregnancy, I've been seeing Maternal Fetal Specialists to monitor the baby's growth and make sure that my high blood pressure would not cause any complications down the line.

In "normal" pregnancies, women generally see their OB every 4 weeks for regular check ups. Because I was deemed high-risk early on, I was seeing my OB every 4 weeks, and in between seeing the Maternal Fetal Specialist every 4 weeks (which boils down to being in a doctor's office every 2 weeks).

On top of that, a regular OB probably won't do ultrasounds every visit, but they do at Maternal Fetal. So we were pretty excited about getting updated pictures every 4 weeks. We had a regular visit scheduled at Maternal Fetal on Monday, February 2nd, but Nubbins (our nickname for our sexless baby at the time) didn't want to come out for pictures, so they were unable to get any of the regular measurements that they needed.

We had a follow-up scheduled for a week after on February 11th. Again, Nubbins was curled up and in a tough position to get any of the measurements or see any of the anatomy (which was the sole purpose for these visits . . . to monitor baby's growth and development). The ultrasound tech did her business, then the doctor came in to try her hand at it. I thought to myself, "Not again, Nubbins doesn't want to come out and play!"

But their frustrations felt slightly more crucial this time around. I asked if there were any major problems in not getting the measurements and anatomy again (as if to say, I wouldn't mind coming in again next week to try another ultrasound and, hopefully, the baby will be in a better position). But to my horror, the doctor said there were concerns that the baby may have some "issues". It quickly went from that to, "We need to do an amniocentesis to try and figure some things out."

I could feel myself tearing up as I signed the paperwork for the amnio. They make you sign like 5 pieces of paper, and they try to explain everything that you're signing to you, as if you're paying any sort of attention. Wait a minute, I was just told that there may be something wrong with my baby . . . can I have a moment? No, straight to the amnio. I was overwhelmed by my emotions. Honestly, I didn't even have a second to take it all in. So I just cried the entire time. Not because of the procedure or the needle or the pain. I never really had a moment to just digest the information that was flying at us at light speed (there were concerns of the baby having a heart defect and/or possible issues with the kidney/bladder, maybe a chromosomal abnormality).

I must've looked like a deer in headlights when the doctor asked us if we had any questions. I managed to shake my head, as the tears continued to roll down my face. I still hadn't processed anything in my head of what just went down or anything that she said. At that moment, I just wanted to get out of there. They scheduled a follow-up appoinment on Friday, along with an appointment for a pediatric cardiologist. The drive home was fuzzy.

2.15.2008

After everything that went down Monday, I had to take a day from work to just veg, sleep, cry (all of the kind of things that would have just made me useless at work). It really helped. Justin and I sat together and just processed through everything. It was almost like the 5 stages of grief (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance), and by Friday, I had definitely reached acceptance. Yeah, I go from 0 to 60 pretty fast.

By Wednesday morning, I received a call from the doctor's office with preliminary results from the amnio. The FISH tests came back negative for abnormalities to Chromosomes 15, 18, and 21 (Down's Syndrome). This was welcome news, considering Monday's visit left us with so little information.

First thing Friday morning, we went for our first visit with the pediatric cardiologist for a closer look at baby's heart. The doctor confirmed the news that we originally heard on Monday. There was indeed something wrong with the baby's heart. The doctor (Vedelefsky) was amazing and broke it all down for us, so we could understand everything. From the ultrasound, he could tell that the baby has a very serious and very rare condition called Hypoplastic Right Heart Syndrome (HRHS -- the right ventricle of the heart is smaller than it should be) and, in addition to that, Transposition of the Great Vessels (i.e. the Pulmonary Artery and the Aorta are reversed from how they should be).

Due to the condition, the baby would need at least 3 surgeries before the age of 5 (one at birth, the second between 4-6 months, and the last between 18 months-4 years). For the first time, the idea of terminating the pregnancy had to really enter our heads with the severity of the condition we had in front of us. We wanted to wait and see what the rest of the amnio results would be before we made any decisions one way or the other. We agreed that if any of the rest of the results from the amnio came back positive for any sort of chromosomal abnormality, then we would seriously have to consider terminating the pregancy.

We then went straight from the cardiologist's office back to Maternal Fetal. We had another ultrasound waiting, to see if the baby was in a better position than Monday and that maybe they could get some more measurements or a better look at the anatomy. Coming from the cardiologist's office really made us believe that it couldn't get much worse, but as if to say the cake really needed a cherry on top, the doctor at Maternal Fetal confirmed that the baby only had 1 kidney and the amniotic fluid was low (which was the least of our worries at this point, with everything else going on).

Within 1 week, we really had to put everything into perspective. Should we consider terminating the pregnancy? Can this baby have a meaninful life? How can we possibly afford all of this? We had a good handful of questions between us, and a great deal of research ahead of us.

2.18.2008

We spent the weekend scouring the internet for all the research we could possibly find on HRHS. The fact that we found so few articles really made us realize how rare this was. Armed with all this new information, we went to my doctor's appointment on Monday with our heads held high, trying to be as positive as we could. It was just another routine appointment at the doctor's office (peeing in a cup, weighing in, getting my blood pressure checked, and hearing the baby's heartbeat – everything was checking out A-OK). Before we left, Justin asked the question that we wanted to avoid but couldn't. "What's the procedure for termination?" (At this point, we were still waiting on the rest of the results from my amnio – there could very well still be something in the chromosomes that we would need to tackle.)

The doctor's bewildered look before he answered was answer enough. He said it was rare to terminate a pregnancy after 20 weeks. 26 weeks would be the absolute latest, and this is in cases of extreme medical emergencies. But basically, they would inject the baby's heart with Potassium, wait for it to pass, and I would have to birth it. NO! The look on my face must've been answer enough for Justin, but I told him that I just couldn't do it.

That was out of the question now. We had rethink everything we'd talked about up until now – to me, there was no other option than to proceed with the pregnancy. What would happen from here on out would be in God's hands.

2.22.2008

We carried our positive attitudes into my doctor's appointment on Friday. In the beginning of this pregnancy, we'd initially agreed that we would not find out the baby's sex until he/she was born. With everything else that we were going through, we found that finding out the baby's sex was at least one thing that we didn't have to keep up in the air. This really made us excited for Friday's appointment.

Again, I went in for the usual vitals routine, and then they brought us into the ultrasound room. The tech came in to give us a look at the baby. We told her that we wanted to know the baby's sex this time. Leave it to our baby to not want to show off . . surprise, surprise! So she wasn't able to see anything from the ultrasound. But since I'd had an amnio, there would be a definitive answer in my file.

The tech brought us into another room to wait and speak with the doctor. After a few seconds, the tech popped her head back into the room and asked if we still wanted to know. Without hesitation or even looking at Justin, I said, "YES!" When she told us that we were having a BOY, I think I actually yelped. Justin and I were more excited than ever before, and we just hugged each other until the doctor came in.

The doctor gave us a bit more good news. All of the results from the amnio were back, and all the chromosome tests were negative! And while we still face an uphill battle from here, we rest assured knowing that we have each other and now a beautiful baby boy on the way.

Initially, we had extreme pain and anger over what our son would be facing in his life. No one goes into their first pregnancy prepared for anything but a perfect little baby. When you're told that your baby isn't going to be "perfect" (medically speaking, I mean), you definitely go through a grieving period, mourning for what you thought your child would be. That goes away, of course, and I continued to enjoy the rest of my roller coaster pregnancy. I posted the following on my Myspace page on April 29, 2008:

A 30-Week Update

I know it's been a while since my last report on everything, so where do I begin? First off, Dylan has been the name that's really stuck for Baby Brooks, so that's the name that we'll probably go with. Justin and I have high hopes that he'll be a brilliant musician. Dylan has been growing and doing really well. His weight and measurements have all been right where they need to be when we get those checked at Maternal Fetal.

Our appointments at the cardiologist have been nothing but positive as well. The doctor that originally diagnosed Dylan's heart condition (Dr.V) will also be his pediatric cardiologist growing up. So we're already establishing that history with him. We're blessed because this doctor is absolutely amazing! He is very positive about everything. He says that the pump on Dylan's Left Ventricle is excellent, so at least the Ventricle that will be doing all the work is in good shape. Basically, once all the surgeries are complete, Dylan's heart will function as a 2-chamber vessel rather than a 4-chamber vessel.

We had the opportunity to meet with the doctor who will more than likely perform Dylan's surgeries (Kanter) and got another bit of good news. There's the slightest of possibilities that the first surgery may not even be necessary. If, at birth, Dylan's heart is pumping just the right amount of blood to the body, then we can skip the first surgery. He referred to it as the "Three Bears" scenario. At birth, Dr. V will evaluate whether Dylan's heart is a) not pumping enough blood to the body, b) pumping too much blood to the body, or c) pumping just the right amount of blood to the body. Obviously, if things are not "just right" at birth (options A and B), a surgery will be necessary.

The first surgery will vary, depending on which condition Dylan's heart is in at birth. The surgeries will be at Children's Healthcare of Atlanta/Egleston. Along with meeting the surgeon, Justin and I also had the opportunity to tour the facilities at Egleston. What an amazing place! The heart center there, including the staff of doctors and nurses, is top-notch. We got to see a 4-month old just an hour out of surgery. I was fascinated. I know it'll be different when it's Dylan in that position, but I have faith knowing that he will be in the best hands.

And since everything with Dylan has been developing so well, it stands to reason that I'd have some kind of issues on my own. I now have Gestational Diabetes (diabetes that develops during pregnancy; it usually goes away after labor). I have to check my Blood Glucose levels 4 times a day, so I'm on a strict meal plan. I've had to adjust my Blood Pressure medication twice now to make sure it stays in the "safe" range. And the latest (and greatest), I had some issues with my sciatic nerve causing me some EXTREME pain. At the end of the day, it'll all be worth it. Dylan will be the ultimate payoff. I just cannot wait to meet him already!

On a side note, today is our 2nd Anniversary. I can't believe how quickly time flies. I'm pretty much convinced that Justin and I can survive anything thrown our way. And we're truly grateful and blessed by those of you who have given us your undying support, thoughts, and prayers.

A Little History

2008-10-13T11:03:00.000-04:00

So I realized that this blog is just in it's early stages and still a little rough around the edges. I also realized that I just sent my story into cyberspace without so much as a little history. Where do I begin? Like so many others out there, Justin and I met at work. From the start, the chemistry was undeniable. We started dating in July of '02, got engaged in July of '05, and were married on April 29, 2006.

We collectively decided that we would wait to have kids for at least a year after our wedding. By July 2007, we'd held strong to our ground, but we were also ready . . . ready to start trying. I never really expected for it to happen so quickly, but in October 2007, I took the test that gave me two pink lines. I was bursting with nerves and utter excitement, but had to wait a little while for Justin to get home from work. When he did, I think he went into shock. He kept asking me if I was sure, so I took a 2nd test to satisfy him. Sure enough, it was true. We were still shocked but also excited. We were going to experience this new territory together and had no idea what to expect.

My first doctor's appointment was in early December, so Justin and I decided that the timing was just right to keep the pregnancy a secret from everyone until Christmas Day. Our little secret was definitely a difficult one to keep. The main thing that people started realizing was that I wasn't drinking anymore. What made it believable was that I'd just started taking medicine for my chronic hypertension, so we told everyone that I couldn't drink on the new medication.

Christmas Day couldn't come soon enough. Justin and I planned to get our family members gifts that would say Grandma, Grandad, Uncle, etc. We'd gotten my mom, my 2 sisters, and Justin's mom these cute engraved snow globes. We got his dad an engraved beer stein, his brother an engraved keychain, and my brother and sister-in-law an engraved frame. (Yes, I'm obssessed with Things Remembered). Anyway, Christmas morning came around and, for the first time, I was nervous going over to the parents' houses to exchange gifts. We went over to my mom's first. Justin and I made a point to open our "secret" gifts last. When we handed them out to my mom and sisters, my sister opened hers first. She didn't want to ruin the surprise, but she looked at me, smiled, and questioned, "Really?" My other sister got into hers next, but she also bit her lip because at that point we were all looking at my mom waiting for her to open hers up. She may have used her maternal instincts to sense that something was up because she was eager (and a little nervous) to open it. All of a sudden, the snowglobe crash-landed on the wood floor!

Even though there was glass and water all over the place, both of my sisters went to pick it up and show it to my mom. I think the combination of the news itself and the fact that she broke the gift caused her to start crying. And it never fails, I cry everytime my mom does. So we shared some unexpected tears, but they were all thrilled with the news. We still had to head over to Justin's parents' house, where again "smooth sailing" was not part of the itinerary.

We went through the same motions, leaving our special gifts for last. Justin's brother opened his first, and like my sisters, immediately knew what was going on but didn't say anything. Justin's dad opened his mug next but thought the engraving read "Conrad", not "Grandad". He couldn't quite understand the gift but tried to appear appreciative nonetheless. When Justin's mom went to open her snowglobe, I braced myself thinking she may drop and break hers too. She finally got it out of the box but couldn't even see the engraving on it! Justin's brother was brimming with excitement, so he turned on the lights in the living room and made her put on her glasses. She finally read the "Grandma" engraving and it still didn't quite sink in. Justin cleared up the confusion for both of them, "That's right. We're pregnant!"

Life's Small Milestones

2008-10-11T18:37:00.000-04:00

Dylan would be 4 months old today, and I wonder what milestones he would have hit by now. It amazes me that's it's only been 4 months since we lost our beloved, perfect son. It feels likes it's been longer. Justin and I have been well, all-in-all. We've both had moments, some of mine more recent. I have a really tough time with one of the seemingly smallest things. When people ask me/us the question, "Do you have any kids?" It's happened twice now, and both times, we answered (with hesitation), "No".

The first time, a family from church asked us. I could hear the trepidation in my voice as I answered. Afterwards, I was so angry at myself. I could list reasons in my head why that was my natural response (maybe to avoid having to go into a long, drawn-out explanation of what happened or to say something uncomfortable like, "Yes, but he's passed."), but that didn't lessen my regret for saying it. I kept telling Justin, "Yes, of course, we have a kid."

Then there was last weekend. Justin and I were at a friend's wedding, and just as we were leaving, the Groom's father (who Justin's known for a while) asked if we had any kids yet. Justin looked at me, and my processors were a bit slowed by the fact that I was three sheets to the wind at that point in the night. He smiled and told him, "No, not yet." I honestly don't remember walking out to the car, I just know that once I was there and the door closed behind me, I erupted into tears. "Why, why," I cried, "Why isn't he here?" I bawled the whole way home.

It's only been 4 months since Dylan's death. I could be worse, right?