The end of a horrible year

2012 is about to end forever. Normally, a new year doesn't mean much to me. It's just another day in another month in another year. I've never been one to make meaningless resolutions, or to think life is going to change dramatically just because the date has changed. This new year feels different.

2012 has been horrible. What we've been through can compare to nothing else. The events of 2012 have left us forever changed.

In 2012, with joy and unending love, we said hello to our precious little Samuel.

 In 2012, with anguish and horror, we were forced to say goodbye.

Nothing on earth can ever undo what's been done.

2012 is written on our hearts forever. I can not and will not ever forget this year.

This year has pushed us to the brink. We have realized what truly matters, we have realized the depths of our love, and we have realized the strength of our bond. We have felt a sorrow like no other. We have felt the constant pain of missing our son deeply and wishing with all our might we could have kept him. Sometimes, I don't know how we have made it this long without him. There have been so many days I would have left this world behind in an instant if I'd only been given that option. Even as I sit to write this I imagine how nice it would be to just throw in the towel and say, "I give up, I'm done."

As I think back on this year, I'm tired. It's been a roller-coaster of emotions and events. I'm tired just thinking of it all. Sometimes I still can't believe this is really our life.

As we look to the new year, I find myself oddly hopeful. I am ready for something new. I'm ready for hope and healing. I'm ready to stop feeling horrible all the time. I want to find a way to be happy again, even though I understand that happiness will never be the same. My heart is missing a piece that can never be replaced on this side of heaven. I have to learn how to live with that Samuel-sized hole in my heart and soul. I have to find a way to make the new kind of happiness that comes from a broken heart. I imagine it will be always shadowed by his absence, but that's ok. He is forever a part of me and I'm glad.

Bryan and I talked last night about the new year. What do we want, what should we do? We know we will have to find a way to recreate our hopes and dreams. Our family will never be complete in this lifetime, so what does that mean for us? I don't know yet. I asked him, "How do you feel about starting a new year?" He said, "It's going to be a better year". I asked him why and he replied, "Well, it can't possibly be worse!" I hope he's right. I hope this new year brings us comfort and peace, healing and health. I hope we don't have to lose another person we love. We know now that nothing is certain and life happens whether you want it to or not. But I do hope we can keep those we love from now on. And I wish will all my might we could have kept him.

To 2012 I say, good riddance... to 2013 I say, please be gentle. We could really use some good in our lives.

Tonight we will look back on this year and be thankful for the time we had with our son. We will hurt once again that he left and hold each other tightly as we imagine the next year without him. We will know each day that passes brings us one day closer to the day we'll be with him again, and somehow we will find the courage and strength to step forward into a new year.

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For those who have loved and supported us this past year, we say a heartfelt thank you! Sometimes, it's only because of your words and caring gestures that we've made it to the next day.

From our family to yours, we wish you all a peaceful and prosperous new year.

a little gift from heaven

(Yep, it's a two-post kinda day again).

After a very stormy morning/early afternoon, something happened to bring a bit of sunshine...

Samuel sent us flowers! <3

It made my day. I love the little snuggle bear that came with them. If it's the closest thing I have to a Samuel cuddle, I'll take it.

Funny how a small gesture on the part of a caring person can totally change my day. Thank you to Samuel's little helper. You've given a mama a bit of happiness <3

Fed up

I'm fed up. With this life, with people, with holidays, with missing him constantly, with Mankato and hospitals...the list is long today. I'm tired of it seeming like there is only a tiny handful of people who truly miss him. I'm tired of imagining what he would be doing/looking like/smelling like/sounding like. I want to be with him instead. I'm tired of living in a world where you have to explain to people why it's sad that your baby has died. Why are people so incredibly lacking when it comes to empathy? They have sympathy for about 10 seconds and then it becomes this sort of irritation that I would be bothering them with his death, as if my pain and loss are an inconvenience to their lives. So sorry that my loss is hurting your perfect life where babies don't die and hearts don't break.

I'm just so tired.

Every day is just another day without him. We try to make the most of our life, but what does that even mean anymore?

It's really hard to parent a baby that's not here with you. I love him and try to do things to give extra special meaning to his life and nothing seems to go anywhere. I plan events, I do projects, I ask for help: it's all for naught. So I'm starting to wonder why I bother. We love him and his life is meaningful to us. Maybe that's enough.

When I'm really missing him a lot (read: today and everyday), I sing to him. I have zero clue if he can hear me, but really, who cares?

This is another thing I'm tired of...having no real idea what it's like for him now. Yes, I believe he is in heaven, but what does that mean? Is he a baby, a little boy, a spirit? I don't know. What does he do all day? Is someone taking care of him? I don't know. I try to imagine it and just get mad. I want to know more. I know there are all these books about people going to heaven and then coming back to tell all about it, but I don't really believe them. I don't think anyone really knows. Do you know what it's like to have no idea what your baby is doing at all times of every day? I do. It's maddening.

I just try my best to remember it's good. I just say that over and over: It's good. He's so happy. It's beautiful. Over and over.

Life would have been good if he hadn't died.
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The following are from the blog, For the Love of baby Liam.

Have you Ever

Have you ever watched your child die?

Have you ever held his hand, feeling the life that grew within you slip away, breath by painful breath?

Have you ever kissed a cold gray cheek, knowing you will never kiss it again while helpless tears rolled down your own?

Have you ever left your child-the child you dreamed of, the child you love-knowing the next time you visit him, it will be at his grave?

Have you ever sat at your window at midnight waiting for sleep, waiting for any escape from a nightmare that won't go away, only to watch dawn bring nothing but reminders of what you will never have?

Have you ever watched the world forget the person you love the most saying "you'll have another one" or "move on" or "let go" as if he were a book or a pen, or a bad haircut that could be replaced or erased as if he didn't matter, as if he had never been?

Have you ever looked at your future knowing someone will always be missing? Have you ever looked at your past knowing some things can never be changed?  Have you ever looked at your present and felt nothing, saw nothing but guilt and anger and loss?

If you haven't - then don't tell me what to think. Don't tell me how to act.  Don't tell me how to feel.  Don't tell me to get over it... because I never will.

Part of Me...

I thought of you with love today, but that is nothing new.

I thought about you yesterday and the day before that too.
I think of you in silence. I often say your name.

But all I have are memories and your picture in a frame.

Your memory is my keepsake, with which I'll never part.

God has you in His keeping. I have you in my heart.

I shed tears for what might have been. A million times I've cried.

If love alone could have saved you, you never would have died.

In life I loved you dearly. In death I love you still.

In my heart you hold a place, no one can ever fill.

It broke my heart to lose you, but you didn't go alone.

For part of me went with you, the day God took you home.

I miss him <3

Christmas without him

It's just after midnight and Christmas is finally over.

Thank. Goodness.

It's been so sad, so empty, and so meaningless for us. There is not a moment where we're not imagining the immense joy that should have been.  He should have been dressed in his adorable little suit with a tiny bow tie. He should have been scooting around under the tree in amazement of lights and all sorts of pretty things. He should have been tasting mashed potatoes and yams and maybe just a tiny lick of a holiday treat. We should have been so full of love and joy and contentment.

We should have been sharing our lives with the one we love so much.

But we're not and it's been heartbreaking.

We had this big plan to go away to some tropical destination and pretend we had no idea what this "Christmas" thing was. But after many attempts, nothing worked out. So, instead, we decided to go to Minneapolis for a couple days. Before all this sadness and mess, Bryan and I loved to get away for little weekend trips all the time. We would just pack a bag, book a hotel and get outta town for some fun and relaxation. I probably don't need to tell you that hasn't happened in a long time.

We knew being home would be too sad, so we packed up and headed for a few days of being in the city. We make reservations all over the city at new restaurants and planned to just hide in the crowds for at least a little while. The hotel was very nice and wasn't very busy so we didn't have to face tons of happy families. We chose "adult" restaurants and didn't run in to any children. It was good. It helped us remember that we can enjoy our time alone together, even if we're always missing our little Samuel. We talked a lot, ate some amazing food - Masa is super yummy! - and watched a lot of cable (we don't have it at home). All in all, it was nice to get away.

We came home last night. We wanted to be alone at home for the actual day so we could read the notes/cards from people who had done good in Samuel's name. We decided to set up the small tree Bryan usually uses in his man cave for sports-related ornaments in the living room and decorate it for Samuel. Just like almost everything we do for him, it was bittersweet. It is nice to have a visual reminder of his life but sad to think of what we're missing every day.

This is his little stocking from last year.

When I had asked people to help us make a difference in Samuel's name, I pictured us opening card after card, feeling how special our little guy is, and knowing his life touched the lives of so many others.  I forgot to consider how few people would actually take the time to do anything. We only got  a few cards/notes. I did my very best not to hurt or feel angry. Instead, I decided to feel very grateful for the few very special notes we did get.

To those who participated: Thank you from the bottom of our hearts. We sat together this morning and read them. We imagined our baby making life better for others and it warmed our hearts. Thank you for taking the time.

It's starting to settle into our hearts that this is how our lives will always be. So many people just don't care enough about others. It's just the way it is. We have realized this past year who our friends are (and are not!). We have realized how selfish and thoughtless people can be. But we've also realized there are some people who will follow you into the depths of hell and hold your hand while doing so. Those people mean the world to us. The rest will soon be forgotten.

To end on a nice note, Bryan and I both broke our "we don't want any presents" agreement and got each other a few small gifts. I guess we both just love each other too much to let it go unnoticed. He got me a box of truffle chocolates from Samuel. some super yummy smelling bubble bath and a spa gift card. I'm already looking forward to a massage and pedicure. I forget a lot of time to take care of myself. I've been through a lot and need some TLC. He knew it and I love him for it. I got him a gift card to his favorite home improvement store, a new video game, and a book called I love my Daddy! from Samuel. We made the best of this day we could. There were lots of tears and a big nap, but we did the best we could.

I wonder what Samuel did in heaven?

I sure do miss my little guy <3

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Here's our Christmas card/birth announcement. Thank you to our good friend, Adrienne, for making this for us.  We love it!!

Faith's Lodge Holiday Tribute

On Saturday, Bryan and I went to the annual Holiday Tribute for families who have visited Faith's Lodge. It was a small gathering in Minneapolis at the Woman's Club.

There were a few speakers, some special songs and then a candle-lighting ceremony. Each family got up and lit their candle for their baby/child and said his or her name. It was beautiful and special but very sad. So many families! It was only a tiny representation of the community of people who will be missing their sweet little one this Christmas.

I cried a lot of the way through the service, but it was good and I'm glad we went. Faith's Lodge is such an amazing place. Please consider donating to them if you're looking to make a holiday contribution. 

Here is the video of the children remembered at the ceremony. Only families who sent in a photo are listed.

Samuel's friend, Hannah, is at 3:15. Samuel is at 4:22.

Broken

My heart has been very heavy the past few days. I miss my baby. Deeply. I try to imagine what he would be doing or what he would look like. In my mind, I try to play out my days with him. It's all for naught. He's gone and I will never know life on earth with him.

It's so quiet in our house all the time. I try to imagine the sounds that should be filling our home with joy and love. There is always something missing. A cry, a babble, a banging toy, a giggle, a story, a song; all things not happening at our house every day. Too much silence. 

I miss him so much.

After the tragedy on Friday, I thought about the world we live in. Babies dying, children dying, parents/friends/family members dying. This life is so broken.

I read post after post on FB about how everyone was so sad and how they were going to hold their children close that night. All I could think was, why does it take a horrific tragedy to make people realize their children's worth? I would be hugging Samuel close every single moment I could. (Although I'm sure he would be pushing me away already in favor of the nearest toy).

I'm just very sad.

I'm so sad for those involved. I'm sad for the parents who are devastated beyond consolation right now. I'm sad that, for now, they will have tons of love and support, but it won't be long until it all goes away and they'll be left alone to try to live this nightmare. (I wonder how long it'll be before they get their first "it's time to get over this"?) I'm sad for the surviving children who were there. They are traumatized. Their childhoods have been stolen from them. I'm sad for the families of the adults who were killed because they seem to be overlooked because of the children. They were someone's baby too. I'm sad for all the parents who lost babies and children that same day but didn't get flags lowered for their little ones or  photos on every news channel. I wish every mama and daddy who loses a baby/child would get the attention and sadness this has brought about. Every life ended too soon is tragic. No matter how or when or why. Babies and children should never die. When they do, it's heartbreaking. Every baby/child that dies deserves memorials and vigils and public acknowledgment. Yet so many deaths go unnoticed. I guess people just want to pretend it doesn't happen every single day.

Mostly, I'm sad because it's just further proof that this world is a mess.

I'm so tired of this life.I'm tired of being without him. I'm tired of trying to pick of the pieces. I'm tired of trying to figure out where to go from here.

Bryan and I can't seem to figure out what to do this coming weekend/week. When we decided to not celebrate the holiday, we forgot that we'll still have to do something on those days he has off. Everything we try to plan just falls apart. The more we push to make something happen, the more we realize we both just want to fast forward to January first. (Better yet, to the day we go to sleep forever and wake up in heaven). Nothing feels right because nothing is right. When there is supposed to be a baby in Christmas jammies ripping open presents along side you, and he's not there, nothing can be right.

I hope the next two weeks go quickly.

Please hold every parent missing their little love in your heart as you celebrate. Not everyone will be having a merry Christmas.

Eight Months

My little guy must be getting so big!

I imagine him sitting in heaven with blocks and wooden trucks he's crashing together, with a huge smile, babbling away to anyone who will listen. It breaks my heart I'm not with him.

I would give anything to see him and be with him. Today is a heavy-heart kind of day, with lots of tears already and it's only 6am. Maybe today is a "just stay in bed" sort of day.

I miss him so much. I can't believe he's not here to play with and snuggle and smother with kisses.

Bryan and I talked for a while last night about what he might look like now. I bet he still looks like his daddy. I bet he has a big smile with a few little teeth popping through and bright big eyes that sparkle. I bet he's a mostly calm little guy like his daddy, but with a spunky side like his mama. I bet he loves animals and books and listening to beautiful music.

I wonder what it's like to grow up in heaven? Beautiful and perfect and amazing.

I want to go too.

I don't understand why we've been left here to try to live without him. How will I make it for another 50-70 years without him? What a mess this life is.

I miss him so much today.

Happy eight months little man! We love you so very much! We hope your great-grandmas are taking extra good care of you and spoiling you a lot today. We can't wait to see you again and hear all about it.

Love and kisses, 
mama and daddy

Now to go find some Kleenex and my comforter. It's going to be a hard day.