The day would start with me making his favorite breakfast, a plate full of pancakes, eggs, and some yummy fruit. Good hearty food for a growing boy. I would tiptoe into his room before he woke up with the tray of food in hand. He would still be sleeping as I place the tray on his dresser. I would gently sit on the side of his “big-boy” bed and just gaze at him sleeping peacefully - looking just like an angel. After I spent a few moments taking it all in, staring at this beautiful, precious boy I created I would softly whisper in his ear, “Good morning birthday boy.” He would open his eyes, still puffy from sleep, and burst out with the biggest smile. “It’s my birthday mommy?” he would ask me. “Yes it is Luke, you are two today. What a big boy you are,” I would reply to him.
We would spend the morning opening presents, the house filled with laughter and grins from ear to ear. The camera card would be full, the phone ringing off the hook all morning long with grandparents and friends calling to wish him happy birthday.
I would have to work today so he and his little buddy (i.e. baby brother) Levi would get ready to head over to Grandma’s house for some more fun filled activities. Cause after all, how many times does your 2nd birthday come around? My two boys would spend the day playing together, laughing together. Luke sharing every little special moment with his little brother because that is the kind of big brother he is. Rob and I would pick them both up around 6pm and head home to have our special dinner time.
Dinner time is the best. It’s a time when we come together as a family and talk about all the excitements of our day. Luke would giggle about all the mischief that he and his little brother got into together. Luke always being the leader and Levi being the fascinated little brother, inseparable these two are. They have a bond like no other, being only 18 months apart they are almost like twins. They look alike, talk alike, and even act alike. No mother could be prouder than I. I have Heaven at my dinner table. My two boys, celebrating Luke’s birthday together with Rob and I at the dinner table feeling so blessed and complete.
This is my version of Heaven on earth.
This may only be a dream but in my heart this is what was intended to be. Maybe God had other plans but this is still my version of happiness. He may be gone but will never be forgotten.
I love you sweet boy. Happy Birthday! We love you.
Mommy, Daddy, and Levi
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
A new chapter
It's amazing how life is forever changing. One minute you feel like you will never be able to move on and then the next minute you are happier than you have ever been. I will forever be somewhere in the middle. I will never be able to say that my life is perfect, because it is not. I will never say that my life is horrible, because it is not.
I live a life that borders on complete utter sadness and pure perfection. One hand I have a dark hollow spot in my heart that will forever be in my chest, but on the other hand I have the most beautiful, amazing gift anyone has ever given me. All of this making up my every day existence.
After Luke I didn't know how to move on, I didn't know how to balance my grief to a level that would allow me to live the rest of my life. I was tormented with the idea that the pain would forever be so raw that happiness would never be apart of my life again. I remember the pain was so intense that it numbed me for months. Kinda like when someone is put into a medical induced acoma so that the victim wouldn't have to experience the immense pain. My body just froze.
Then one day, almost out of the blue I decided that I wanted to have more children. The fear and anxiety that came with that decision was almost as intense as the grief. I remember thinking so many different things - what if I can't love another child as much as I loved Luke? What if everyone, including people in my own family would somehow forget Luke? What if this new child thinks they are a "replacement" child? What if this baby looks just like Luke? What if its a boy? Oh please don't let it be a boy because then it's like Luke is gone and this new boy will overshadow him and my memories of Luke will be gone forever.
"It's a boy." That's the first thing I remember them saying when he came out. And the second thing I remember was - he looks just like Luke. And in that moment, all the fears I had about having another little boy, having Luke being forgotten, not feeling like I could love another child as much as I love Luke all disappeared. All of it. And in that same moment I felt an even deeper love and presence of Luke. It was like his little brother Levi was brought to remind me of how much Luke was still very much apart of us. It was amazing how within those moments all the fears of "replacement" and "forgotten" were gone completely.
The first few weeks of Levi being home I was too tired to think of all the little things that still made me sad. Slowly the grieve crept its way back in. I am torn between feeling the happiest I have ever been in my life, to still feeling this deep gash in my heart. I have moments when I am nursing Levi at night, right before he goes to bed, when he is all cuddly and warm from him bath, smelling so soft and sweet - loving and cherishing these moments and hoping that I will remember them forever. But then it hits me out of now where. This sudden surge of sadness, realizing how much Luke and I missed out on all these precious moments. Wishing that we too could have enjoyed these special times that only a mother and child could share.
I am torn between two drastically different emotions but I know this it how it will always be. It is the unfortunate card I was dealt. It is the life of a mother who's baby has died.
I live a life that borders on complete utter sadness and pure perfection. One hand I have a dark hollow spot in my heart that will forever be in my chest, but on the other hand I have the most beautiful, amazing gift anyone has ever given me. All of this making up my every day existence.
After Luke I didn't know how to move on, I didn't know how to balance my grief to a level that would allow me to live the rest of my life. I was tormented with the idea that the pain would forever be so raw that happiness would never be apart of my life again. I remember the pain was so intense that it numbed me for months. Kinda like when someone is put into a medical induced acoma so that the victim wouldn't have to experience the immense pain. My body just froze.
Then one day, almost out of the blue I decided that I wanted to have more children. The fear and anxiety that came with that decision was almost as intense as the grief. I remember thinking so many different things - what if I can't love another child as much as I loved Luke? What if everyone, including people in my own family would somehow forget Luke? What if this new child thinks they are a "replacement" child? What if this baby looks just like Luke? What if its a boy? Oh please don't let it be a boy because then it's like Luke is gone and this new boy will overshadow him and my memories of Luke will be gone forever.
"It's a boy." That's the first thing I remember them saying when he came out. And the second thing I remember was - he looks just like Luke. And in that moment, all the fears I had about having another little boy, having Luke being forgotten, not feeling like I could love another child as much as I love Luke all disappeared. All of it. And in that same moment I felt an even deeper love and presence of Luke. It was like his little brother Levi was brought to remind me of how much Luke was still very much apart of us. It was amazing how within those moments all the fears of "replacement" and "forgotten" were gone completely.
The first few weeks of Levi being home I was too tired to think of all the little things that still made me sad. Slowly the grieve crept its way back in. I am torn between feeling the happiest I have ever been in my life, to still feeling this deep gash in my heart. I have moments when I am nursing Levi at night, right before he goes to bed, when he is all cuddly and warm from him bath, smelling so soft and sweet - loving and cherishing these moments and hoping that I will remember them forever. But then it hits me out of now where. This sudden surge of sadness, realizing how much Luke and I missed out on all these precious moments. Wishing that we too could have enjoyed these special times that only a mother and child could share.
I am torn between two drastically different emotions but I know this it how it will always be. It is the unfortunate card I was dealt. It is the life of a mother who's baby has died.
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