8 Months

8 months later and it is still so fresh...so raw. I desperately miss my joy, my sunshine...

Grief is a tidal wave that over takes you,
smashes down upon you with unimaginable force,
sweeps you up into its darkness,
where you tumble and crash against unidentifiable surfaces,
only to be thrown out on an unknown beach, bruised, reshaped...
Grief will make a new person out of you,
if it doesn't kill you in the making.
Stephanie Ericsson I have become quite skilled at putting on the mask. But inside I am still tumbling and crashing...

Held

Two months is too little
They let him go
They had no sudden healing
To think that providence
Would take a child from his mother
While she prays, is appalling
Who told us we'd be rescued
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares
We're asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it's unfair

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was when everything fell
We'd be held

This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was when everything fell
We'd be held

If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our savior

This is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive
This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was when everything fell
We'd be held
We'd be held

This is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was when everything fell
We'd be held

This is what it means to be held.....

Natalie Grant ~ Held

7 Months

I thought this month perhaps I might feel different...no 29 on the calendar to throw me off. We were able to spend the weekend with friends in Vegas where I was able to laugh like I haven't laughed in a very long time. Definately a good thing. And yet, still it hits me like a ton of bricks, leaving me reeling. I find myself back in that PICU room all over again...feels as if it were yesterday. I ache for my boy...

Don't be mad if I cry

It just hurts so bad sometimes

'Cause everyday it's sinking in

And I have to say goodbye all over again

You know I bet it feels good

To have the weight of this world

Off your shoulders now

I'm dreaming of the day

When I'm finally there with you

Save a place for me, save a place for me

I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon

Save a place for me, save some grace for me

I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon

I have asked the questions why

But I guess the answer's for another time

So instead I'll pray with every tear

And be thankful for the time I had you here

So you just, save a place for me, save a place for me

I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon

Save a place for me, save some grace for me

I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon

I wanna live my life just like you did

And make the most of my time just like you did

And I wanna make my home up in the sky

Just like you did, oh, but until I get there

Until I get there

Just save a place for me, save a place for me

'Cause I will be there soon

Save a place for me, save a place for me

I'll be there soon, I'll be there soon

Don't be mad if I cry

It just hurts so bad

Matthew West - Save A Place for Me

This New Road

"One of the things so astonishing and costly about losing a loved one is that, while the sun continues to rise and set, newspapers continue to be delivered, traffic lights still change from red to green and back again, our whole life is turned around, turned upside down.

Is it any wonder we feel disoriented, confused? yet the people we pass on the street are going about their business as though no one's world has been shaken to the core, as though the earth has not opened and swallowed us up, dropped us into a world of insecurity and change.

It will take us time to learn to walk this new road. Time, and a lot of help, so we don't stumble and fall irretrievably. Those who have had their own experiences of loss will probably be our most helpful guides - knowing when to say the right word, when to be silent and walk beside us, when to reach out and take our hand. In time, we will be helpers for others.

I have entered a new country. I will be patient with myself. I will look for companions of the way."

Healing after Loss - Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief by Martha Whitmore Hickman

Today my heart is heavy...another family is just starting down this new road and will bury their son today. This is a special family to me, who were in Toronto hospital while we were there, and helped make my time there so much more bearable. I got a kick out of how Ethan loved to compare tubes and meds with Noah. My thoughts are prayers are with you today and in the days ahead.

Another beautiful spirit gone so soon...another backpack left at the pearly gates...

http://www2.caringbridge.org/canada/ethanjakob/index.htm

6 Months

Another day...another milestone...

Can it really be half a year since our world turned upside down?? Half a year sounds so long, yet often it feels like just yesterday that I held Noah, or heard his infectious giggle, or picked up the tupperware off the floor for the millionth time. I'm sure some days I still here Noah dragging his pumps across the floor.

A couple of weeks ago another boy we met at the Oley Conference lost his battle. I was able to attend his service online (thank God for the wonders of the internet). At the service someone talked about the image they had of that young man standing at heaven's gates, and dropping his backpack (his TPN backpack that was such a part of him), leaving it behind at the gate as he entered heaven. I love to think of Noah doing the same. Knowing that he no longer needs those things does bring some comfort. Kailyn decided there must be quite a pile of backpacks there already.

Someone asked me when the pain of this intense grief becomes manageable. It made me stop and think. And I realized that, yes, somewhere in this time, the pain has become more manageable. No, I don't miss him any less, the pain will always, always be there, and many days the aching of my empty arms is still so very intense. But I am slowly finding ways to put one foot in front of the other...to put meaning to it all...to begin to figure out how to live this new life without my son.

Bedtime Prayers

"Dear God, I pray that Noah's having a good time in heaven..."

Joshua's bedtime prayer, every single night.

New Year's Resolutions

NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS FOR BEREAVED PARENTS

I Resolve:

That I will grieve as much and for as long as I feel like grieving, and that I will not let others put a time table on my grief.

That I will grieve in whatever way I feel like grieving, and I will ignore those who try to tell me what I should or should not be feeling and how I should or should not be behaving.

That I will cry whenever and wherever I feel like crying, and that I will not hold back my tears just because someone else feels I should be "brave" or "getting better" or "healing by now."

That I will talk about my child as often as I want to, and that I will not let others turn me off just because they can't deal with their own feelings.

That I will not expect family and friends to know how I feel, understanding that one who has not lost a child cannot possibly know how I feel.

That I will not blame myself for my child's death, and I will constantly remind myself that I did the best job of parenting I could possibly have done. But when feelings of guilt are overwhelming, I will remind myself that this is a normal part of the grief process and it will pass.

That I will not be afraid or ashamed to seek professional help if I feel it is necessary.

That I will commune with my child at least once a day in whatever way feels comfortable and natural to me, and that I won't feel compelled to explain this communion to others or to justify or even discuss it with them.

I will keep the truth in my heart--the truth that my child is always with me in spirit.

That I will try to eat, sleep, and exercise every day in order to give my body strength it will need to help me cope with my grief.

To know that I am not losing my mind and I will remind myself that loss of memory, feelings of disorientation, lack of energy, and a sense of vulnerability are all a normal part of the grief process.

To know that I will heal, even though it will take a long time.

To let myself heal and not feel guilty about not feeling better sooner.

To remind myself that the grief process is circuitous--that is, I will not make steady upward progress. And when I find myself slipping back into the old moods of despair and depression, I will tell myself that "slipping backward" is also a normal part of the mourning process, and that these moods, too, will pass.

To try to be happy about something for some part of every day, knowing that at first, I may have to force myself to think cheerful thoughts so eventually they can become a habit.

That I will reach out at times and try to help someone else, knowing that helping others will help me to get over my depression.

That even though my child is dead, I will opt for life, knowing that is what my child would want me to do.

~From the Brooksville/Spring Hill FL. TCF Newsletter

Goodbye 2009

It's been a difficult year to let go of...

moving on into 2010...

a year that holds no memories of Noah...a year without my sunny boy.

I'd much rather hang onto 2009...the good, the bad and the ugly...

for 2009 knows my son.

5 Months

5 months today...


Wishing it wasn't so...

Christmas

Another first...

Christmas without Noah...

What can I say...

Unfortunately, we do not have many good Christmas memories with Noah. Most of the holidays were spent either in hospital, or things were heading in that direction. By the time New Years rolled around, we were always inpatient. The holidays have been stressful times over the past few years, last year being the worst. And so this year we can be thankful...thankful that Noah does not need to lie in an ICU bed for Christmas...that he is free to celebrate...what could be better than Christmas in heaven??

And yet, selfishly, I desperately long to be sitting in that ICU room...I would give up a thousand more Christmases...for then our boy would still be alive. Everything we do without Noah feels hollow and empty. I imagine it will always be that way...as a part of me will forever be missing on this earth.

Merry Christmas my sweet boy. I miss you so much...everyday.