Ask the Blogger!

So....

We are almost at 100 blog posts and nearing 50 followers.  I never thought my feelings and thoughts would attract so many, nor did I imagine that I would have enough in my mind to write 100 blogs. 

I plan to write about something big or do something big to write about for the 100th blog post, which is only two posts away!  But for this post I thought I would use it to allow you, that's right, you the reader to ask me one question of your choice.  I saw this done on a friends blog and I really enjoyed it.  I felt like I got to know her better and relate even that much more.  I am open to any questions but if I receive questions that seem inapporpriate I will select not to answer them.

With the end of the month nearing, it only means that the sixth is right around the corner.  I have decided that for the end of this month I will give myself something to look forward to.  The due date for all questions will be on 3/31.  I will then answer the questions over the weekend, before the ugly sixth shows it's face. 

I look forward to all of your questions.  Happy Questioning!!!!! 

Carry My Pain without Falling

So today was the close of the class that started earlier this month.  Yes, the same class who on day one I found myself telling them about Wyatt.  Today the class took their assessment and to celebrate their release from education we had a pizza party.

Parties are supposed to be fun times and filled with happiness right?  Well, this party started off fun, but ended with the class asking more questions about Wyatt.  The questions were questions that I hadn't had to answer outside of friends and family before. 

It was strange sitting there with a room full of people, who I had only meant a few weeks ago, as they starred at me while I blurted out some of the horrific details that unfolded in my life starting on May 26, 2010.  They wanted to know and I was willing to share.  Well, willing to share some, not all. 

I told our family's story (the vague version) to a room full of people who just appeared stunned when they heard it.  I did it without crying.  What does that mean?  Have I lost all connection?  Have a grown immune to the fact that my first son is in Heaven?  How does a mother tell a story about the loss of her precious son without crying?  What the hell is wrong with me? 

After discussing Wyatt for what seemed to be hours, I excused myself to allow for the discussion in the room to change.  I went to my desk, sat down and quickly asked myself all of the questions listed above.  I couldn't come up with any answers. 

I remember someone telling me just a few months after losing Wyatt that the pain eventually becomes easier to deal with.  This person was a close friend's mother.  She would know, as she lost her baby years back.  I remember thinking that day, after the conversation was over, that my pain would always be there and it would never become easier.  I said to myself that day "Wyatt means too much to ever have the pain become easier." 

The pain is not gone, it never will be.  The pain will remain in my heart, my soul, and my mind forever.  The pain is something that I will never be able to describe in words.  It's there and it will remain until I see my son again.  I lost my son, lost him.  He is never coming back to be with his mother or father.  The next time we will see him will be in Heaven. 

But today I realized that the conversation I had a few months back with a very wise mother was accurate.  The pain IS still there, it is not going any where.  But I am now able to deal with it.  I have never had to carry pain with me throughout life.  Nothing had ever happened to me that caused me so much pain that it needed to be carried.  But my life is different now.  It all changed in one long week in 2010. 

I will now carry my pain forever, but it is becoming easier to deal with.  For I have taught myself how to carry my pain without falling. 

I found a poem today and I wanted to share it.  It reminded me a lot of Wyatt. 

Simple Treasures

Author Unknown

You were a part of us

and we knew life was there.

We would wonder--a boy or girl?

Would you have hair?

I reflect back on the memories

of what I felt inside.

Were you growing?

Was that a flutter?

Were your eyes open wide?

Now you're here,

but not as we planned.

Our dreams have been shattered

as we touch your little hand.

Your tiny feet, your sleeping face,

we know you're in a special place.

Your peaceful look, your little nose.

God cradles you in sweet repose.

But we have these gifts

to hold close to heart.

And we will always have the memories

of which you are a part.

You were a part of us

and we knew a life was there.

We thank you for these simple treasures

you have placed within our care.

St. Patrick's Day, one day late...

You will soon learn (if you don't know already), I am late for everything.  I was late being born by two days.  I was late turning 18, as the rest of my class was 18 before graduation.  I was almost late to my wedding, thanks to losing my own wedding ring and not realizing it until an hour before the service.  And here I am late writing a blog post for St. Patrick's Day for my first born son. 

Do I feel bad about it, no not really.  Why you ask... Because Wyatt knows two things, one he knows he is loved and thought of every single day, regardless if it's a holiday or not.  And two, he knows his mother is late for everything, and I mean EVERYTHING.

So here it is, the day after St. Patrick's Day.  Wyatt should have been here celebrating his first Irish holiday, but instead, he was up above looking down.  I wonder if there are leprechauns in Heaven?  Probably not, for you don't need a rainbow and a pot of gold up there.  Everything is so colorful and golden already.  Everything there is perfect, so why would luck be needed?  Well, I do hope that Wyatt was able to at least see what St. Patrick's Day was like, as he is Irish and he has an Irish last name.  As I envision what it would have been like to have him here on a wonderful Irish holiday, I picture a handsome little boy dressed in green with a cute little hat and something that says, "Kiss me girls, I am Irish!"  Though my envision will never become a reality, I smile when I see in my thoughts this bright, big eyed baby smiling and showing his new little teeth. 

Yesterday was the first time since losing Wyatt that I was struck by time.  Yea, that's right, struck by time.  Like the clock struck twelve and the carriage turned into a pumpkin.  Brian and I were driving to a meeting and I was thinking of Wyatt.  I turned to Brian and said, "Do you realize that in two and a half months it will be one year since we lost Wyatt?"  I held back tears as I said it.  One year?!  How in the hell is that possible?  That is 365 days since we lost our son, the one we tried for twenty-six months to create.  One freaking year!  Brian and I continued to drive to the meeting and the subject was changed.  I don't think that either of us can believe that the one year mark is almost here.  It feels like the horror just took place yesterday.  It is so fresh and so heart wrenching still. 

Nothing like being struck by time on St. Patrick's Day.  I felt like I had lived a year of my life in the dark.  I found myself thinking back over the past few months and realizing that though I thought I was out of the dark, I really wasn't.  I don't know whether a parent who loses a child is ever fully out of the dark.  I think I will always hold onto June 2010 like it was yesterday, I think I will hold onto it forever. 

As St. Patrick's Day grew to a close, I remember laying in bed and thinking of what I would wish for if I ever found that pot of gold, the one at the end my rainbow.  But after considering all that I could wish for, I realized that I would need more than one wish.  Of course, if I could only have one wish it would be for my family to all be together as one.  Then I realized, that would bring Wyatt back, but it may not make him better.  He still may be sick with HLHS, and I wouldn't want him to suffer.  So, I realized I would have to have a second wish so I could ensure he was back with us and that he didn't have HLHS.  Then I realized, if Wyatt was back with us, we may not have Nolan.  For without Wyatt, Nolan may have never been created, so a third wish was now necessary.  It continued to build until I reached nine wishes.  I realized then, that I would just wish to not use my wish.  For life is the way it is because of a greater power.  If one thing in this life is changed it could cause a domino effect.  I believe it was even described that way in the movies "Back to the Future". 

As I closed my eyes, I decided that life is not about what should be changed or returned.  Instead, it is about understanding that all things happen for a reason (though it doesn't make sense at the time) and that you must love what you once had, what you have, and what you will come to you in the future. 

"Smile, open your eyes, love and go on"

“You can shed tears that she is gone,
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”

~ David Harkins

I found the poem above while searching the Internet tonight.  I guess you could say I just needed to find the right words, so I could get my feelings out on paper.  Isn't that what this blog is all about?  Well, I found the perfect words, the words that sum up my weekend. 

You see, I received a Christmas present back in 1995 from my father.  I had been asking for a Jack Russell pup and I got my wish, sorta.  I remember him calling on December 23 that year and I could hear something in the background.  He said, "I have your Christmas present up here, can you hear it?"  I was in shock.  I couldn't believe I was getting a dog.  All I could think of was that my mother was going to kill me because I was bringing another animal into her house.  But boy was I excited. 

Just two days later, early on Christmas morning, my father showed up.  He started to unload his truck and on his second trip in he came in the kitchen and said, "Meg, look what I have."  Tucked in his jacket against his chest was the cutest little white dog with brown spots.  He said, "she's not full Jack Russell but she is part Jack Russell and part Chihuahua."  OMG, this puppy was so cute.

I took her and never put her down.  She weighed only a mere pound and a half, she was so tiny and so cute.  I still remember the first few nights with her.  After trying to decide on a name and running through several, I decided on Abby and I was very matter of fact that it was A-B-B-Y and not A-B-B-E-Y.  We found a large box and put a blanket in there so she could sleep the night in my room.  That was sure a memory.  Boy did she yipe.  After a few nights, she became used to it and eventually she was house trained and could roam the house. 

What a loyal dog Abby was.  She would follow us kids everywhere.  She would sleep with us, play with us outside, and even sit with us on the couch to watch TV.  Abby had several toys but her favorite was a little stuffed bear, oh how she loved that toy. 

Of course, when you get a dog at 15 and you go off to college three years later, the dog has to stay home.  Ever seen the movie "My Dog Skip"?  (It's one of my favorites)  I am reminded of when the boy goes to college and leaves Skip behind.  I did the same thing with Abby.  Of course, I still saw Abby when I would go home and every Sunday at dinners.  She quickly became my mother's dog but she was happy with that. 

Every night Abby would lay with my mom on the couch, snuggled up on the blue fleece sheep blanket.  This took place until Abby got sick one summer and eventually lost strength in her legs, making it difficult for her to jump.  Abby wasn't supposed to live through that summer, she was really sick and the vet couldn't figure out why.  But Abby pulled through, she was one tough little dog.

Over the next few years, Abby contracted Lyme's disease, but again pulled right on through.  Of course, she was still weak as any dog over the age of ten usually gets.  In 2009, Abby started losing weight and she was place on a lot of medicine.  The vet again said, "it's only a matter of time".  But Abby remained strong enough to fight. 

Over the course of two years, Abby started getting bad.  This weekend, Saturday night, I received a call at 10:33p (which is late for anyone, even family, to call my house).  I slowly answered the phone after seeing the caller id on the TV.  It was my mom.  I knew a call past 8:30p from her meant something was wrong.  I said hello and all I heard was my mom on the other end in tears.

The words poured out, "I just got home and Abby....".  I thought for a second and I knew what the rest was of sentence was but I let her finish.  "... is dead." 

I normally don't go to my mom's house more than once a week but this week I had been there on Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday.  I remember seeing Abby all four times and each time she just look like she hurt.  Abby had gotten to the point where she could hardly walk, she had trouble seeing, and her paws looked like they were twisting.  Abby started losing more and more weight to the point that she was really just bones.  I remember thinking after the Thursday visit that her time was coming and it was coming very soon.  I knew this because she didn't even get out of her bed to get a treat, something she loved more than anything. 

The words ranging in my head, "Abby is dead".  I had a sobbing mother on the other end of the phone and heart that was melting faster than a Popsicle on a summer day.  My dog that I received 15 years ago as a Christmas present had just been found dead in her bed.  I quickly found myself dealing with something every so familiar to me, something I hated more than ever, something that I had dealt with 9 months ago... DEATH. 

I told my mom that this is better, that Abby was free from hurt and pain.  I remember saying that it was her time and that she needed to go.  I wasn't trying to be harsh, but she was living in pain, her paws just looked painful and she couldn't even walk.  But that night was tough. 

Brian spent over an hour building a cute little box for Abby, a coffin if you will.  He thought of Abby like his dog, for he knew her for 11 years, she basically was like part of his family too.  At just past midnight, we drove over to my mom's house.  I uncovered Abby (as I told my mom to cover her with a blanket), who was laying in her bed.  We don't know when she died, my mom was not home which was also better.  They say dogs like to die alone, that sometimes they stray off to die.  We do know she died in her bed, which gave us some peace of mind.  Abby looked peaceful (though her eyes were opened), her little tongue was sticking out just a bit, but she was all curled up in her bed, the place she felt the most comfort in since she had gotten so sick. 

I knelt down and rubbed her little head and back for the last time and played with her cute little ears.  We said our last goodbyes and I called her Abbers one last time.  I lined the box with a blue towel and Brian picked her up out of her bed and placed her into her box. 

For the last time, I walked over to the box and said goodbye to one of the best Christmas presents I had ever received.  My Abbers, my Boobers.

We buried Abby the next evening, Sunday, after our family dinner.  It was suitable as she would have wanted everyone to be there.  As we were burying her, I decided to point out something with my shoe.  Because Abby could hardly walk, she used to go to the bathroom right near the front door.  There was always a joke of who would step in her mess.  As I pointed with my shoe, I realized the joke was on me this time.  Yep, that's right.  We were burying Abby, but I had just stepped in her mess.  Many would just brush off the subject, but over the past 9 months I have noticed signs.  Others call the signs winks.  This was definitely one of Abby's winks, because the joke was on me. 

I told Wyatt last night while I was getting ready for bed, that he would now have a puppy.  I said, "You can call her Abbers or Boobers, that is what Mommy used to call her."  In that moment, I felt as though death was not the end, but just the beginning of something new and different. 

In the past 9 months, I have dealt with pain, hurt, a broken heart, and death.  Through it all, I have learned one thing and that is that I will "smile, open my eyes, love and go on."

"My baby brother is doing great!"

I can only imagine these would be the words that Wyatt is saying right now.  I had another visit with the doctor today, the 19 week check up.  The doctor stated, "You are looking good, and the baby is doing great." 

Up another two pounds, I actually feel great.  Believe it or not, there are some days where I don't even feel pregnant.  This is totally different compared to Wyatt's pregnancy.  By now with Wyatt, I could hardly move.  I was so uncomfortable. 

Today I asked the doctor to compare the difference in the two pregnancies.  To my surprise, I was measuring about the same for both.  These were the numbers:

At 19 weeks for Wyatt is was:
131 pounds

At 19 weeks and 3 days for Nolan I am:
136 pounds

I honestly feel smaller with Nolan than I did with Wyatt.  We go on Monday for our 20 week ultrasound and we can't wait to see Nolan.  It has been 10 weeks since the last time we saw him. 

I remind myself, just as the sadness hits me like a rock when I think of Wyatt's pregnancy, that Wyatt gave his brother his life.  Without Wyatt, his brother wouldn't be here.  Wyatt's purpose was Nolan. 

I find myself concerned more during this pregnancy, obviously because I have already lost my Wyatt.  But in some ways, I sometimes feel like I am being laughed at for worrying.  I feel like Wyatt laughs while I worry because he knows that his baby brother is doing great!  He laughs because he finds it funny how much his mother worries about something that he is already taking care of.

Small talk to be left unsaid

Today was not only Monday, one of the days of the week I hate, but it was also the first day of a new education class.  As the instructor, it is important to be happy, chipper, and positive to set the tone for the class and the company (the instructor is the person that the associates will look up to for the next few weeks).  Since my return to work in late August, this happy and chipper usually requires some talking to the soul in order to achieve the expected outcome.  This class was no different, I started last night with the "if your happy and you know it, clap your hands" dance.  By this morning, I was ready and excited for the new class to start. 

Of course, as an effective instructor, one should come up with games, icebreakers, motivators, etc.  On the first day, I usually do two icebreakers (otherwise known as get to know you's).  Today was no different, but it took a while to come up with them.  My favorite icebreaker is asking everyone to go around and state one thing that others wouldn't know about them by looking at them.  I considered doing my favorite icebreaker, then I realized my answer.  I hadn't done this icebreaker since May 2010.  My response to my own icebreaker question would be totally different now then what it was in the past, and how would the class take my new response?  "You wouldn't know by looking at me that I lost my first born son."  Yeah, that probably wouldn't go over too well.

I thought of several other icebreakers but I continued to come back to the same one.  I decided if I used the icebreaker, I would use it later in class when I knew I wouldn't have to answer the question because of the number of other leaders who would be in the room.  It worked, I didn't have to answer the question, but boy, if I only knew what the next thirty minutes had in store for me.

After the introductions, icebreakers, and expectations of the class, I like to take the class on a tour of the building.  We started off like I would with any class, but due to the fact that time had flown by, when we got to the bathrooms I told the class that if anyone needed to take a quick break they could.  I waited in the hallway with those not choosing to take break and BAM that's when it happened. 

"So how far along are you?"  Yes, I got the question because I have been showing since I was about fives weeks pregnant.  I responded with "about four and a half months, I am due on August 1st."  Quickly I was asked "Is this your first?"  Thoughts ran through my mind, thoughts like: I don't know these people.  Are you serious we are only two hours into class.  Here we go, not again darn it! 

I decided it would be best to just answer honestly, as I am with these people for two weeks now.  I softly answered, "No, this is my second."  I then tried to change the subject.  Yea, nope, the subject couldn't be changed. 

In just that moment I received the question I was trying to avoid, "So, do you have a boy or girl at home?"  Oh, people, why must you just assume?????  After even more thoughts ran through my head and after the hallway turned back into a hallway and not the dark tunnel I was standing in the moment before, I responded with "My first was a boy, but we lost him at 29 weeks gestation."  Then to my surprise, another question.  "What do you mean 29 weeks gestation?" 

Are you serious?  I clarified that I meant I carried my son for 29 weeks before I lost him due to a heart defect.  Talk about a great way to start off the first day of a new class.  All of the assoicates were standing there by the time the conversation was complete.  It's amazing how you plan your icebreaker to ensure you don't alarm the class or cause several unnecessary questions but then within minutes, you find yourself telling the entire class about your loss anyway. 

So, day one of this new two week class was rather interesting to say the least.  I couldn't wait for the day to end and come home tp "recollect" myself.  I sit here now thinking about it all over again and I smile and shake my head, for many reasons.

The first reasons is because there are so many people in the world who take so many things for granted.  They just assume when you say you another child that the child is at home with you.  They assume that when you are pregnant everything is going to be perfect, and that the baby will arrive as expected.  They also assume that bad things never happen and when they are told that they do, the only thing intellgent they can find to say is "I'm sorry."

The second reason I shake my head is because I had to explain to the person asking the questions what 29 weeks gestation meant.  I mean are you serious?  If you don't know what gestation means, you probably shouldn't ask someone how far along they are!  That's just my thoughts on that ignorance.

The third reason is for the fact that I was so worried about the questions I would get regarding my loss when I initially returned from work.  I never gave much thought to the number of questions I would get after becoming pregnant for a second time.  I honestly feel like I get more questions now then when I came back from leave.  Of course, this is because when I returned everyone knew I lost the baby.  Now, they see I am pregnant again and ask the standard questions.

Lastly, I shake my head over the entire situation because I still find it hard to believe that I even have to say that I lost my first son.  Ten months ago I remember sitting on the phone and talking to my mom about others who had lost their babies.  I remember thinking to myself, I feel so bad for those people but it will never happen to me.  I remember the selfishness that passed through my mind of "it took us 26 months to conceive, that will be the worst pain we will have to endure."  Oh my gosh was I ever wrong.  Ten months ago, I was so ignorant, so uneducated about life.  Ten months ago, my life was 100% different. 

Would I change anything about my life?  Yes, I would want my son here with me.  Do I regret anything I did?  No, I am not God and will not never know what the future holds.  Will I ever be as niave as I was ten months ago, God I hope not.  Was today the last day that I will ever be faced with the tough questions?  Sadly no, because people need to know everything, even if they are just trying to make small talk.  Sometimes small talk becomes so very large that people wish they would have never started the conversation in the first place. 

"One of the best rules in conversation is, never to say a thing which any of the company can reasonably wish had been left unsaid."  ~ Jonathan Swift

Nine months and the book that changed it all

Today is the fifth, which is smack between the fourth and the sixth, two dates that haunt me and probably will forever.  The fourth of June was the day of Wyatt's surgery and the sixth was the day I delivered him.  So, with today being the fifth, it is like the day of somber.  The fourth is always filled with the "what if we hadn't done the procedure" questions and the sadness that the surgery didn't work.  And the sixth is always filled with "the first time we saw his face" statements. 

Looking back over the past few months, I would have to say that months three and seven were the hardest for me.  It took the first few months to realize that this was our life, so month three is when it had finally sunk in.  Month seven was extremely hard, because it was the mile marker.  It marked that Wyatt had been gone the same amount of time for which I carried him. 

This is month nine.  It takes nine months to carry a child to full term, and it has taken nine months for a grieving parent to come to grips with the fact that their child is truly in a better place.  This was caused a lot because of a wonderful person, who sent us a very amazing book. 

The book is called "Heaven is for Real".  I am not a big reader, it usually takes me forever to get through one book.  But this book had me for the very beginning.  It is about a little boy who has surgery and during the surgery has an out of body experience.  The child's story is retold by his father and it has really made me think and understand things a bit better. 

The book has allowed me to make sense of some of the signs/events that have taken place since Wyatt left.  It has also allowed me to finally come to peace with the fact that Wyatt is in a better place, his life not gone forever.  I used to always think that he spent seven months in a dark womb growing and developing, but for what, to just die and never get to live.  Well, this book has changed that perspective for me.

Though I sit at another milestone about to take place tomorrow, nine months since we saw Wyatt's little face for the first time, I find myself taking this milestone a bit easier this month.  I know that one day my son will be with his parents again and until then he is with other wonderful people. 

The Song....

A few weeks ago, Brian decided to burn a CD with a few of his favorite songs.  After spending hours fighting with our slow computer, they had all finally downloaded. 

He tested the CD and when it seemed to work, he put it in his car for his long drives to work and school. 

A few days later he asked me if I had heard the first song on the CD.  I said I hadn't heard the song and he explained I needed to hear it. 

After getting the CD from the car, Brian came back into the living room and said, "I did not select this as a song to be burned on this CD.  I have never heard the song before until now and I don't even know who sings it."  We then listened to the song. 

It only took a few words of the song to bring the tears to my eyes.  There I sat in the living room, listening to the song and sobbing.  The whole time I kept thinking, now where did the song come from?

I am left believing it has to be a sign. 

Please feel free to listen to this song.  After searching the Internet, I was able to determine that the song name is Angel and it is by Fisher the Band. 

Click the link below to play the song.
"Angel"

Enjoying every minute of it!

Wow!  It's March already, how exactly did that happen?  It feels like the winter was quick this year, or maybe it was just that last summer seemed so long.  Whatever it is, I can't believe it is March already, and talk about busy.

Wyatt's Wishes is really taking off.  I will be donating two more blankets to the Children's Hospital in Philadelphia on March 22.  I can't wait to take the photos and post them so everyone can see!  Additionally, I started making crochet baby hats to sell on ETSY.  Yes, that's right, I opened a shop on ETSY called WyattsMommie.  (Really it is Wyatt's Wishes by Wyatt's Mommie, but the silly search engine requires one to search by WyattsMommie.)

The hats are adorable, and I have even started getting creative by making animal hats.  Check out the frog....

Oh, you know you love it!  I already have a list of orders for the frog and a few other hats.  Most of the proceeds from the hats will go directly to Wyatt's Wishes to fund the Angel Care Packages and to make monetary donations to CHD research and NILMDTS. 

In the midst of working on the baby hats and the blankets, I recently registered Brian and I to walk for the March of Dimes on May 1, in Wyatt's name of course.  We will be recruiting our family and friends to walk with us again also, so we can all come together and show our support for little Wyatt!!!!

There are times when I think about everything that I have done for Wyatt's Wishes so far, and I find myself hoping that one day I can make this a full time job.  Recently, the thought has entered my mind several times, then I realize that eventually that day MAY come. 

Today, after arriving home from work (another topic for another day), I looked at the mail and started to determine what to cook for dinner.  I didn't see the package sitting there at first but after a few strolls through the kitchen, I noticed it.  I saw the return address and my heart began to fill with joy! 

The package was from a wonderful soul who had sent a previous donation to Wyatt's Wishes.  I carefully opened the package and pulled out the contents.  It was a book with a note.  The note said, "I purchased 3 of these, one for me, one for my son, and one for you and Brian." 

The book is called "Heaven is for Real".  I have it sitting on the table beside me right now because I can't wait to read it.  It is about a little boy who tells his story of going to Heaven. 

You know, just when you begin to doubt, to not fully understand the why, to think that you were cheated from something, something great happens.  Do you ever find yourself thinking that way? 

It was like this book came at just the right time, for many reasons which I will not disclose here.  Just know that in whatever spare time I have, I will be making blankets and baby hats, working on Wyatt's scrapbook, and reading a book called, "Heaven is for Real".  And you know what, that is my life and I am enjoying every minute of it!!