The Birth of My Son

originally published on bubblews in December 2013

December.... Traditionally, December is my favorite time of year. It always has been. Not only is it Christmas, but it is my birthday. Then, along came Nolan in 1999 and even more reasons to love it. With 2010 came the birth of my daughter ella, so December has always been special to me.

My eldest child, Nolan, my first-born, had a due date of late January. As a first time pregnant mom, I worried very little. People are pregnant and give birth every day. So when I went into the doctor for my check-up on December 21, 1999, I had no fear. I had borderline high blood pressure the last couple weeks. However, I wasn't worried. When the doctor measured me and noted that I hadn't grown in 2 weeks, I was not worried. When she sent me over to have an ultrasound, I still felt no fear.

As the ultrasound techs started noting things and talking quietly, I began to think something might be wrong. I called my husband and said you might want to join me at the dr office. By the time he arrived, they told me "you are having a baby tonight"... They proceeded to tell us that our child looked to be only 2 pounds or so. He was approximately 6 weeks early. We were scared.

Around 10pm, the medical team started me on pitocen to try to start labor. After about an hour, they realized that my sweet child's heart rate was dropping every time there was a contraction. The consensus was that his small body could not handle labor. The decision was made to prep for a C-section. At this point, it was near midnight, it was near my birthday, my 30th birthday. As they prepared for delivering my first child, I realized it would be on my birthday.

Shortly after midnight, I heard my son's first cry. It was an amazing, scary sound. My husband and I both burst into tears. We were already in love with this child more than words could ever say.

He weighed in at 3 pounds 12 ounces. He was small, but healthy. He only stayed in the hospital for 9 days. They sent us home with our precious son on New Year's Eve 1999.

13 years later, New Year's Eve 2012, our son was dead in his bed from a virus to his heart.

13 years we had with this beautiful child.

13 years were not enough.

I miss him immensely.

I want him back

677 Days, A Poem

This was originally posted on Bubblews November 2014. 

For nearly two years, I have risen from my bed
With such miserable thoughts inside my head
I have hoped without hope that it was just a dream
I have hoped without hope that life wasn't as it seemed

For nearly two years, life has seemed off-kilter
There's a knife in my spirit that hurts and bewilders
I have cried tears of anger, bitterness, and sorrow
I have cried knowing I won't see you tomorrow

For nearly two years, I have tried to distract
Wine, coffee, and movies haven't hidden the horrid fact
I have felt dead among the living
I have been false with the smiles I'm giving

For nearly two years, I have struggled to breathe
While inside my soul's agony seethes
I have despaired over fate's decision
I have looked at Faith with complete derision

For nearly two years, our five are now four
Oh how I wish for that one child more
I have watched my others with bittersweet joy
I have missed my sweet, precious boy

My Son's Last Words to me

In life, we do not realize that it may be our last moment with someone. The unexpected often happens. The unexpected often means sadness, sorrow, and loss. Because the worst can happen at any given time, we should remember to show those we love that we love them.
We should hug our loved ones.
We should kiss our loved ones.
We should smile at our loved ones.
We should say those precious words, "I love you," to our loved ones.
My son's unexpected death was the absolute worst thing that could happen. He went to bed seemingly healthy, but died during the night from an unknown heart condition. He was thirteen.
The last words he said to me were, "I love you Mom," as he hugged me goodnight. Then he walked down the hallway to his bedroom and closed the door.
Although I have many regrets about how things happened with my son, the one thing I do hold onto is the fact that my last words to him were also, "I love you."
Tell the ones you love them. Period.
Photo credit: my own

originally published on Bubblews  by me

Would I have Wanted Him to Suffer

Numerous thoughts permeate the mind of the grieving mother. Random thoughts. Warped thoughts. Angry thoughts. Sad thoughts. Questioning thoughts.
Would I have changed the way that he died if I had a choice?
Meaning this: not change the fact that he died. That's a given, of course. If I could do anything to bring him back, I would. If I could live my own life in a 4 X 4 cell eating nothing but bread and water knowing that he was alive and well, I would.
No, the question that goes through my mind is this one. Would I have rather known he was going to die so that I could have had the time to say goodbye?
In case you haven't read my posts about the loss of my son, he died completely unexpectedly in his sleep. We had no warning. He went to bed "healthy" and died sometime during the night. He was thirteen.
No chance to say goodbye.
No warning.
The trauma of finding him.
Would I have rather he had cancer? Would I have rather we went to the doctor and they said, "The outlook is grim." ? Would I have wanted him to suffer simply so I could have more time with him?
I have a friend who is watching her sweet two-year old suffer. He has brain cancer.
Yet, she has hope. There is still a chance for a miracle. There is still time to talk to her child. There is still time to hug her child, to love her child, to see a glimpse of his beautiful smile.
The morning my son died all hope died.
Selfishly, I would say I would want to have had a chance to try to save him. I would have wanted to say goodbye. Yet, no, I wouldn't want him to suffer. I remember seeing him cry tears of fear and pain when he was little getting an x-ray, getting a shot, feeling sick. But at least I could hug him and try to make him feel better.
Of course, this speculation is a moot point. My son is gone. And I had no choice in the matter.
Photo credit: my own
+Grief +Grieving-mother +Nolan

originally published on Bubblews 11/13/14

Up in Smoke, a poem

My dreams of the future have gone up in smoke
Three brothers are now two
Three brothers that should have grown up together
Two brothers had to bury the other

Five rowdy siblings in a crowded house
Where space was limited
Yet love and laughter were abundant
Now there's more space and less laughter

Five high school graduations, college applications
Weddings and children and jobs
Brothers as best men, as godfathers
Years of always there for each other

I, in my old age, surrounded by my five children
And their husbands and wives and children
Content as I grow old
A heart swollen with love and pride

Instead my beloved child has died
My world has crumbled
My heart now has a gaping hole
My dreams of the future have gone up in smoke

photo credit: my own +Poetry +Jillybean1222-poetry +Grief +Grieving-mother

My Dad and my son

My dad is a wonderful grandfather. He loves each of his grandchildren dearly. I feel so blessed when I watch him with my children. He always had a special spot for Nolan. Oh, I am sure he has a special spot for each of the grandkids. But there was a special bond between him and my son. They would talk about coin collecting, play the piano together, talk about scouts, music, birds. It was beautiful.
When Nolan died, one of the hardest things I had to do was call my parents. How do you deliver such awful news over the phone? I opted to call my dad on his cell phone rather than my mom. I thought it would be "easier" for some reason. One of the many things from that horrific day that will forever be burned in my memory is telling my dad and hearing him scream "no!" then crying to my mom that Nolan was dead. Then she was screaming too. The agony in their voices was so immense.
My dad has always been a sort of poet. Every year he writes a Christmas poem in the family Christmas letter. He'll jot down other little rhymes here and there. After Nolan's death, he wrote a beautiful poem to honor Nolan. I'd like to share it with you. Not only will you read the love of grandfather for grandson, but you will also get a sense of who Nolan was.
Poem for Nolan
by Winston Johnson
When I see an eagle
In beautiful flight
A natural wonder
A natures delight,
I'll think of our Nolan
Who loved things so right.
And watching them soar,
With all of their might.
When I see a boy,
With a sly impish grin
And a trick deck of cards,
Or a tack or a pin,
I'll think of Nolan,
Who joked with his kin
And really, at times,
Was ornery as sin.
When I see a young man,
With a smile on his face.
Helping his mother,
With love and with grace.
I'll think of our Nolan,
With never one trace
Of bad in his heart -
Nor any disgrace.
When I hear a piano,
Swaying away.
To "Away in a Manger"
Asleep on the hay.
I'll think of our Nolan,
And our Christmas day -
The joy he would bring,
As he'd grin and he'd play.
When I'm on the prairie,
Out there alone -
No cars passing by,
No TV, No phone.
I'll think most of our Nolan.
In hills of Flint stone,
I'll bet he can hear me.
Out there in God's zone.
When I see a boy scout,
Show red, white, and blue
And make his folks proud
Of whatever he'll do,
I'll think of our Nolan
And how he just grew
To be a young man
So straight and so true.
Whenever I'm stuckin
The muck and the mire
And later I'm struggling
Right down to the wire.
I'll think of Nolan laughing
And I shall move higher
To a place warm as toast
Like a warm, cozy fire.
Photo Credit: My own
Poem Credit: with Permission, by my dad, Winston Johnson
+Grief +Grievingmother +Grieving-mother +Poetry

St Patrick's Day without You

sad days.... always sad days

here's a post from my other blog
http://www.bubblews.com/news/9898691-missing-him-a-little-extra-today