Conversations with Ella, July 22, 2014 Edition

This was originally published by me on Bubblews, July 2014.

This evening after divvying up the rest of the ice cream between the children, I held my three-year old daughter on my lap. We had the following conversation as she ate her vanilla ice cream.

Ella: Is it ok that we ate all of the ice cream?
Me: Sure! That's why I bought the big container because we have a big family.
Ella: There's six of us, right?
Me: No, there's seven.
Ella: But... One... Two...
Me (interrupting her): We have seven because we always include Nolan. Even if Nolan isn't eating ice cream with us, we have to count him.
Ella: Nolan IS eating ice cream! He's eating it in Heaven!
Me: You are right Ella, he is. What kinds of flavors do you think they have in Heaven?
Ella: The same as we have.

Photo Credit: My own
+Motherhood +Conversations-with-ella +Grief +Grieving-mother

With You, A Poem

This was originally posted on Bubblews in September of 2014.

If only I could be with you
I'd listen to you talk
I'd watch the way your eyes light up
I'd watch the way you walk

If only I could be with you
I'd listen to you play
Your fingers up and down the keys
Music speaks what you wish to say

If only I could be with you
I'd watch the way you move
Fancy footwork on the soccer field
You finally finding your groove

If only I could be with you
I'd watch the way you draw
I would soak in every picture
As I imagined what you saw

If only I could be with you
I'd feel the way you touch
I'd cherish every hug and kiss
I would love you so very much

The Complexity of Grief

This was originally written on Bubblews by me on October 2014

Looking at photographs of you will make me cry
Looking at photographs of you can make me smile
Videos of you usually bring tears
I have anger at all times: sometimes simmering beneath the surface, other times exploding , often misdirected
I pray for a sign, yet I'm no longer sure if I have faith
I don't talk to you as much as I should, but I miss you more than is imaginable
Sometimes I push your memories away from me instead of immersing myself in them
The pain still feels physical after all of this time
As it nears two years without you, I continue to wonder how it can be true. I will even occasionally pinch or slap myself to try to wake from this nightmare
Losing my thirteen year old son unexpectedly in his sleep because his heart simply stopped is not something that I can just get over.

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