Wednesday, September 21, 2011


Somehow summer has disappeared and fall has quietly crept up on me, bringing with it this day once again. 6 years ago today we were given a most precious gift and I will always look on this day with bittersweet memories. It occurred to me today that we have now marked as many birthdays without Noah as we did with him here on earth. Which means that one day very soon we will have spent more days grieving than he lived. I wonder how time can be so harsh...

My little man, I miss you so much and I would give everything to have you here. I will never forget the moment you were heart overflowed with awe and joy. You were beautiful and perfect to me in every way. I was so proud to be your mom.

We sent you balloons today. One blue balloon slipped away as we were getting ready to release them. With disappointment we watched it fly to the heavens, and I couldn't help but think of how your life slipped away so quickly, no matter how I tried to hang on. My selfish heart wants you here with me...I will always long for the life I had with you. But I know you are enjoying a celebration far beyond what I could ever imagine. Happy Birthday precious boy.

Love your mama.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Life Changes

Much has been happening in our lives these days. We spent a wonderful 2 weeks down in Florida. We were able to do some volunteering again at Give Kids The World, which we loved! And Kailyn was able to deliver all of the items she has been collecting to donate. (More to come about that in another post). After our time spent there, we met my sister and her family in Disney and spent a fabulous 9 days at the parks together. We will be heading back down there in November to do some more volunteering and this time try a short Disney cruise. Yes we love that place, but there is more to the story... For some time now, we have been feeling unsettled. Our lives have felt in this "limbo state" for so long and we feel like there is more that we need to be doing. Noah has inspired us to step out of our comfort zone and give make our lives count for something and leave a legacy we can be proud of. After much thought and prayer...many nights of wondering...and waiting on God for guidance, we have come to a major life decision. And since it went public in the paper here on Friday, it is time that I share it here too...

So many wonderful memories are tied up in GKTW. Our hearts will always be a part of that place. There is much that will still need to fall into place for this vision of ours to become a reality, so the articles may be a bit premature. It is exciting and terrifying all at the same time, and we really don't know how, when or even if it will all fall into place. But the paperwork ball is very slowly rolling and we are trusting in His perfect plan and guidance in all of this. I have much more to share about Kailyn and the passion and generous heart she has developed for GKTW, but I will save that for another day, for that deserves a post dedicated just to her. Noah, your life had a purpose and your legacy lives on. I can only hope to live my life with even half of the courage we saw in you. You are my inspiration. Missing you...

Don't forget to read my last blog post and consider donating to the Children's Wish Foundation Walk for Wishes.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Walk For Wishes

In spring of 2009, Noah was granted a very special wish through the Children's Wish Foundation. Our family was able to spend a wonderful week at Disney World where Noah met his favorite character, Tigger. The Wish Foundation gave us this opportunity to create memories which we will cherish always. Now it is time to give back again...

On Oct 1, 2011, our family will be participating in the Wishmaker Walk for Wishes for the 2nd year, in support of The Children's Wish Foundation of Canada. We had a fantastic time last year with family and friends and are excited to walk again this year. Thousands of Canadians in over one hundred communities will gather together to help create the magic of a wish for children with high-risk, life threatening illnesses. These children are coping with things most of us can only imagine and the wishes they receive provide a ray of hope during a difficult time. The Children’s Wish Foundation of Canada has never refused an eligible child and has granted almost 15,000 wishes! Wish requests continue to increase and they are currently providing 3 wishes a day! I hope you will once again join me and help to create the magic of a wish by supporting my efforts in the Wishmaker Walk for Wishes.

To sponsor me online, just follow this link and access my secure fundraising page. You can help The Foundation even more by spreading the word about this exciting event! To encourage others to participate or to sponsor me please pass my website address along. It's easy; just paste the above link into an email. Join us on Oct 1, 2011! Visit The Children’s Wish Foundation website and learn more about how you can create the magic of a wish!

Thanks for your generous support!

Saturday, August 20, 2011

This Is Now

From the heart of a bereaved Mother... This is now
by Unknown

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.

Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine's Day, July 4th and Easter.

Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a funeral than a wedding or birthday party...yet feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers and see the casket.

Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming, because you just don't like to sit through anything.

Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why didn't I's go through your head constantly.

Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.

Normal is having the TV on the minute I walk into the house to have noise, because the silence is deafening.

Normal is staring at every child who looks like he is my child's age. And then thinking of the age he would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.

Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.

Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal".

Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and his birthday and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon or flag that fit's the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really.

Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special my child loved. Thinking how he would love it, but how he is not here to enjoy it.

Normal is having some people afraid to mention my child.

Normal is making sure that others remember him.

Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.

Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.

Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.

Normal is taking pills, and trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental health depends on it.

Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.

Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals, bodies being referred to as cadavers, when you know they were once someone's loved one.

Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone stricken with grief over the loss of your child.

Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.

Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands and all over the USA, but yet never having met any of them face to face.

Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.

Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this because..." I love God, I know that my child is in heaven, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why healthy children were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.

Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did laundry or if there is any food.

Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have three children or two, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my child is in heaven. And yet when you say you have two children to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your child.

Normal is avoiding McDonald's and Burger King playgrounds because of small, happy children that break your heart when you see them.

Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking if there even is a God.

Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.

And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".

Friday, July 29, 2011

Two Years

Thank you to those who have remembered our Noah and our family today. The flowers, cookie bouquet and emails were very appreciated and brightened our day.

I have been struggling for a while about what to post here today, as we mark two years of life without Noah. Some days it still completely takes my breath away to think that he is really gone for the rest of my life here. Even after two years the pain is still so present. Time has given salve to the wounds, but they are still there and still so very deep. Many days I need to work to block the memories out, or they can completely overwhelm me. I pick my moments to remember when I can...when I feel strong enough. But sometimes the memories come out of nowhere and still completely take my breath away. With time I am slowly learning how to navigate through those moments.

Today marks two years since the worst day of our lives...the day that changed everything. Every moment of that one day is seared into my memory. I will never forget the fear and terror of the morning as we stood by helplessly, watching the PICU team do everything they could to try and save our son. Or that early afternoon when we knew that everything had been tried and there was nothing more to do but let go...watching his heartbeat disappear on the monitor...the weight of Noah and the coolness of his skin as I held his lifeless body...the stunning rainbow in the sky on that surreal drive home from the hospital.
Once again we have been at a bit of a loss as to what to do to mark this day. It doesn't seem right to crawl back into bed, or to simply go about our normal routines. Somehow the day must still be acknowledged. Although today is a reminder of sadness and loss for us, for Noah, it marks a day of rejoicing and freedom...his heavenly birthday. and we can't even begin to imagine the celebration he is having!! I am convinced that he is enjoying all the fabulous goodies that he never tasted on earth (with the yumminess factor infinitely multiplied of course!). So today we chose to celebrate with food and fun, just as Noah would want it. The kids spent the day at day camp and Brad and I enjoyed a lovely breakfast out at Cora's. After day camp, we had a fun family evening out at the movies, topped off with a yummy birthday cake. A visit to Noah's grave with some time to share a few memories completed our evening.

Oh my precious little boy...I would give anything to turn back time for just one more smile. Missing you today and every day. Who knew that such a little man could change so many lives. Today we celebrate your life. A life lived with so much courage and are my inspiration to be a better person.

Always and forever your "mama".

Till we meet again...

Till we meet again...

Sunday, May 08, 2011

Mothers Day

Mothers Day is a tough day. I think that no matter how many years go by, it will always be one of those days that will always be, well, just plain crappy. Although I love spending the day with my other kids, the void in our family is so much more noticable on a day like today. This year Brad was away in BC on business. But Kailyn & Joshua did what they could to make the day special. I awoke to them creeping in my bedroom, with some rewarmed pancakes they had found in the fridge with fruit and yogurt. Along with that came the traditional homemade cards from school of course. It was very cute and I was touched.

We decided to laze around in bed, skip church (another place I don't particularly enjoy being on mother's day anymore), and instead, head to the cemetery so I could spend the morning with all of my children. We always enjoy seeing what others have left at the grave. I love that there are others out there who care enough to stop by the cemetery. Thank you!! We spent some time cleaning up the grave a bit, and had some fun taking pictures. It turned out to be a beautiful morning in between rain showers.

I miss my little Noah so very very much. I miss having my identity wrapped up in him and being known as "Noah's mom". Oh how I long just to hear him call me "mama" just one more time! I am so very proud that I was given the precious gift of mothering such a beautiful child on this earth. Those years are a treasure to be carried with me always. Miss you buddy.

Always and forever your mama...

Saturday, January 29, 2011

18 Months

It's been exactly 18 months since I held my boy. 1 and 1/2 seems absolutely unbelievable to look at those numbers. How is it even possible that I have lived that long without him????

Some people still ask once in a while how we are doing. Other's have stopped asking altogether...assuming I guess that we must be "over it" by now. Although we will never, ever be "over it", in many ways we are doing "ok". Somehow life does go on...

Brad no longer has to play "Mr Mom" at home and keep the household running. This has given him much more time to devote to his business, which in turn has helped it grow tremendously. Although he misses Noah so much, he loves to share Noah's story with everyone he meets.

Kailyn has struggled with sleep issues since Noah's death. She was spending every night in our room during the first few months. Gradually the nights have improved, and she is able to sleep through the night in her own room. She did decide to claim the room on the main floor that was meant to be Noah's room. It is still decorated with many "Noah" touches and she is much happier there. She still has some pretty emotional days where she falls apart, but for the most part she has adjusted well.

Joshua has never shown much outward emotion or grief. But I know he processes things in his own way and every so often out of the blue, he'll sigh and say "I miss Noah." He still prays faithfully each and every night that Noah will have a good time in heaven.

As for life has completely changed. I have been back at work for about a year now. I did take a different nursing position with home care as I really needed a fresh start and my job is really a perfect fit for me right now. I have time that I never had before....time to take care of myself, to exercise, to eat right, to spend time with friends, to enjoy my other kids, to travel, to sleep through the night. It has taken me a long time to figure out how to live a "normal" life. As strange as that may sound, I really had forgotten how to do that. I am still in the process of learning how to live this new life. It's one day at a time.

Slowly, I have sorted through Noah's things, giving some away and storing or displaying the most treasured ones. We sent boxes of medical supplies to Romania to be used by a missionary couple. My mom made a beautiful quilt with some of our favorite items of clothing that we snuggle up with on the couch. But the crib still remains in our room. I don't know why that is the one thing I have been unable to tackle, but there is a comfort in having it there. There have been many days where I have felt ready to take it down, but both Brad & I just never seem to be able to get around to doing it. Perhaps it is the huge gaping space it will leave there, or perhaps it is just one last reminder that our lives are completely changed. And so for now it will continue to sit there for as long as we need it to.

The waves of grief still hit me...some days just as intense as if I was back in that ICU room...some days it still takes all my willpower to get out of bed. All I can do is ride them out, knowing that when the wave subsides, I will be able to laugh and enjoy myself...until the next one hits. I long for my old life back. I long to be eating crappy hospital wake up with an aching back from sleeping yet another night on those hospital be stuck in that hospital room thinking I just might go crazy watching baby einstein for the millionth be woken multiple times a night from beeping fall asleep to the gentle rise and fall of the oxygen concentrator. I miss planning my day around Noah's TPN schedule and meds. I miss the people who loved and cared for my son. I miss the craziness of our life with Noah. I just really, really miss my son.

A year and a half without my sunny boy.

A year and a half closer to seeing him again...