Somewhere only we know

Ever since Samuel died, I've had the urge to just run away. To just get in the car and never look back. I want to just start over somehow. The only problem with this plan is that there is no where I can go. There is no amount of running away that will change anything. The pain is in my heart; where I go, the pain goes also. Also, I'm too tired to even think of how I could possible start all over again. There is nothing I want to do for a living, no person other than Bryan I want to be with, no place that would bring me any joy. So I just stay here in my nightmare and try to keep moving forward.

A few weeks ago, when my mom was down to visit us, I mentioned to her about wanting to just get away somewhere. A place where no one knows us, a place where we could just hide for a while. A few days later, she called to say that she and my dad were going to pay for us to take a trip over Memorial Day weekend (the only time Bryan could get away since he had used all his vacation for Samuel.) She insisted they wanted to do this for us (after my protest that it was too much!) and we started talking about places to go. Our initial thought was somewhere warm - maybe an oceanfront hotel in California or Florida - but then we realized that would include a flight and there was no way to control if we got seated next to a baby for hours (something I would not be able to handle!) Bryan and I talked and realized we needed a place for adults only that was not too far away so we could drive. We love visiting Duluth each year, so we began looking for a hotel there. We quickly realized there would be the same problem with hotels; too many families with kids/babies. After some research, we found a bed and breakfast (adults only - perfect!) called The Firelight Inn. It looked perfect and it had tons of great reviews. They had the perfect room for us. A room with a king-sized bed, a jacuzzi tub, a fireplace and a great view of Lake Superior. Also, another great aspect of this specific inn... they bring breakfast to you in your room so you don't have to be around the other guests if you don't want to. How perfect for us! We could get away without having to deal with other people. My parents so generously purchased the room for us and even included some of the Inn's special extras - a cheese, fruit and cracker tray, a dinner of wild rice soup and bread and a tray of dessert and coffee. They really spoiled us!

I had some mixed emotions (what else is new...) as the day grew near for us to go. I realized if Samuel was alive we wouldn't be going. I feel sad doing things I know I wouldn't be doing if he were here. It felt strange to want to enjoy the trip knowing he couldn't be apart of it. But I was also really looking forward to "running away", even if just for awhile.

Because my  mom always goes the extra mile, she packed a bag for us with games, yummy snacks, drinks and even bath products for our trip. She also got me a beautiful little engraved coin with Samuel's name on it. It's a beautiful little thing I can hold in my hand while I'm thinking of him. It's very special to me.

On Friday afternoon, we packed up and left for Duluth. After a long car ride (thanks to the many others heading north for the holiday and lots of construction delays) we finally made it to the Inn. We pulled up to the beautiful brick home and immediately knew we had made the right choice. It is a historic home that was beautifully restored and obviously well maintained. As we walked up to the door, we were greeted by the owners, Joy and Jim, who felt like family welcoming us to their home. We were the only guests that night, so we ended up having the run of the place while they went out to dinner. It was such a beautiful home! There was a huge wrap-around porch on the front and side of the house with lots of comfy seats, tables with games and books, a beautiful fireplace and enormous windows overlooking Oregon Creek on the side of the house. Then there was the living room with a grand piano, couches, and another fireplace. The dining room led into a butlers pantry with things for our enjoyment during the stay. There were coffees, teas, sodas, water bottles, freshly baked sugar cookies and snacks all ready for you whenever you wanted. The next room over was a cozy - but not small - living room with an amazing fireplace sectioned out under the beautifully hand-carved staircase leading up the rooms. They had bookcases with movies, books, CDs and games for our use. During our tour, we got to see all of the guest rooms. No two were the same and we would have been happy with any of them. Our room was on the top floor. We got a suite with two rooms. When we opened the door, we were so excited to see how beautiful and well appointed our room was! There was a king bed with an awesome antique metal frame, a large jacuzzi tub right across from the fireplace, a private bathroom with shower (and handmade soaps the owner makes) a second room with a couch, table and chairs, an entertainment center and even a beautiful antique wardrobe for our clothes. There were many skylights we could open for fresh air and even one that opened on to a really cool metal walkway with a spiral staircase down to the lower deck. The room was so beautiful and clean. It looked like we were the first people to even use it.

Every morning, we would get a knock on the door and hear "Bryan and RaeAnne, your breakfast is served". When we opened the door, we would find a huge basket filled with wonderful things like a plated hot main dish (brie and Canadian bacon quiche the first day, ham and cheese strata the next and strawberry stuffed french toast the last day), a dish of some types of yummy fruits, a basket of muffins and other bakery breads/treats, coffee, tea, and everything else you needed for a great breakfast (including a daily newsletter with the days menu, the local weather and things to do around the city). We were spoiled with the amazingly delicious (and huge) meals each morning.

For the most part, we just spent time together in the room, just being together watching movies, reading, napping and talking. We talked about Samuel and how much we miss him. We cried at times, we dreamed together of what he was doing right at that moment, in heaven, and we talked about how we are going to try to live without him. We miss him so much! Although the weather was cold and gloomy (even thunderstorms and rain), it was perfect. We could just cuddle in the warmth of the fireplace and not worry about going anywhere or talking to anyone. Almost no one knew where we were so it felt like we could just relax and be alone. It was very nice and I hope we can make it back there again someday. I don't think we could have found a better place to go and we will always remember our time there. 

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The Pit

It's been a bad couple of days. I'm so filled with pain. My heart is so broken. I rage with anger. I burn with hatred. I want to die but there is no way out.

It's like I was pushed down in a dark pit and left to die. I try to pull myself up and out, and sometimes I even make some progress, but the pit is too deep. I fall to the bottom again and again. There seems to be no way out. I look up and sometimes I can see the sun...I can feel the hope that things are good outside of the pit. I reach and climb for it, wanting so badly to be apart of the life outside the pit. But I can't make it. So I fall to the floor, curl up in a ball and wait to die. I guess life on the outside is not for me. Somehow, for some reason, I don't deserve the life outside the pit. Life outside the pit is happy mommies and daddies with their babies. Life outside the pit is not wondering why your baby had to die. Life outside the pit is enjoying a belief in a loving and faithful God. Life outside the pit is unending joy; a joy ignorant to the possibility of death. I don't get that life. I get the dark horrific existence at the bottom of the pit.

Today we went to see a counselor. It did not help. At all. It only left me feeling more hopeless. I go the impression he didn't have a clue what to say to us. No one can help. There is no way to feel better.

It didn't have to be this way but, for some unknown reason, it is.

The Lawnmower

Today, while Bryan and I were driving to run some errands, we both saw a man mowing his lawn. He was pushing it towards us. Then, as we drove closer, he turned to change directions and we noticed his small son behind him, proudly pushing his own little plastic Fisher-Price-esque lawn mower behind him. Bryan and I both saw it simultaneously and laughed out loud because it was so cute and funny and heartwarming. Then,almost instantly, the laughter turned to tears as we realized how much we wanted our little Samuel to mimic daddy as he mowed the lawn. We pulled over to recover, then continued on our way because there is nothing else we can do.

Gross.

I hate this

I hate that I'll never be the same again. I hate that no matter what happens in life, I'll always be missing my little Samuel. I hate that if we decide to have other kids, I'll have to wonder if they'll have the same condition, if they'll die, if they'll be born ok. I hate that I can't just enjoy a pregnancy ever again. I hate that any other children we have will have to live without their brother. I hate that if we want another baby people will think we're trying to replace him. I hate that any other baby we would have would get all of the things Samuel should have gotten. I hate that this happened. I hate that I have to learn how to live again. I hate that all we wanted was a family and this nightmare is what we got. I hate that I never get to hold my little Samuel in this life again. I hate that so many people just decide to have a family, get pregnant, have their baby and live happily ever after without ever even considering how amazing it is that their baby is healthy. I hate that every day perfectly healthy babies are killed because their moms aren't ready for them. I hate that I have to stay here while my baby is in heaven. I hate that Bryan doesn't get his son. I hate that I feel this way. I hate that every day I ask myself what I did to cause this. I hate that I have to wonder what I can and can't believe in the Bible. I hate that I have to wonder why God didn't step in to save Samuel...it would have been so easy for Him. I hate that when I have a few "okay" hours I feel like I must not have loved him enough. 

I hate this.

How did this happen?

A new normal

Yesterday was a day of healing for me. A few days ago, I had this desire for a bit of normalcy (is there such a thing now?) I just wanted to feel like a real person again; to do something fun. I know that part of the grieving process is to find a "new normal". Things will never be as they once were; there is no going back. We will always be without Samuel. The challenge for us now is to figure out what life will be like going forward (easier said than done). I asked my sister if she would be willing to have me and some friends over to her house for a little "girls night". Nothing big. Just some friends, some good food and some good conversation. When I thought of it, it sounded so nice to get out of the house, to be around people who care about me. After she readily agreed and began making the plans, I had some doubts. Maybe people will think I don't love Samuel enough if I'm ready to have a night out... Maybe if I don't think about him all night I'll forget something about him... Does having fun mean I'm over grieving him? Just the thought of being "over him" made me so heartsick! I love Samuel so very much! I miss him all day every day. I would still give anything to have him back. But he's not coming back. He's safe and sound with Jesus and I'm left here to try to figure out my "new normal". A few times I thought of ways I could "get out" of my plans. But I still wanted to try so I kept them.

Yesterday afternoon, I got in the car and drove up to the cities. Since I don't get up there much, I tried to fill my time with many things I wanted to do while I was up there. My first stop was to visit my friend Traci who just had her baby boy a few days after Samuel. She is one of my favorite people and I've been missing her and really wanted to meet her son. I wondered if it was going to be hard to see him. I also wondered how it would feel to hold him. When I got there, I looked at her handsome little boy and felt ok. I can be happy for her because I know how much she cares about me. I know how much she hurts for me and how unfair she finds the situation. That allows me to feel safe with her and happy for her son. I got to hold him and snuggle with him. It was really nice. I had a moment of wishing I could do the same with Samuel, but it passed and I focused on enjoying the time of talking with a good friend and being happy for her.

After I left Traci, I met Jaimi and we went to get a pedicure. Another thing I'd been thinking about for a while was doing something nice for myself - such a a massage or pedicure - to have a moment of pampering and relaxation. Because my body is still healing from the c-section, a massage was out. So we decided to get a pedicure. Again, I wondered: does me doing something for myself mean I'm not loving Samuel enough? Does it say to people "I'm over him"? (There is much guilt in tying to find a new normal.) Again, I pushed the negative thoughts out and kept with my plans. I DO love Samuel! Nothing can change that. Again, it was so nice to be around a good friend and do something regular and "normal". We sat in our massaging chairs with out feet in the warm, bubbly water and it felt so nice. It's ok to do something nice for yourself, even in times of grief. (Maybe especially in times of grief.) We talked for a while, she looked at the photo book I have of Samuel, and then we headed over to Angi's (my sister who was hosting) house.

As I arrived, my immediate feeling was "oh no, what have I done...this is going to be bad". I thought this because I didn't know how to act. Should I be mopey and sad? Should I smile and be happy? Nothing felt right. I chose to just let the emotions I was feeling show. Everyone there knew about Samuel. It was going to be ok. Another good friend of mine, Adrienne, went in with Jaimi to surprise me with an "Edible Arrangement" (a bouquet of fruit, shaped like flowers). I've always wanted one! They are good friends to not only remember that I've always wanted one, but to get me it too!

As we all sat down to talk and eat, I felt good. It was nice to feel "normal" for a night! I didn't have to sit around feeling sad for myself that Samuel is gone. I didn't have to miss him terribly all night. I could have lots of  love for him in my heart and talk to friends about life and be ok. It didn't for one moment mean I don't miss him or love him. That felt so good. 

As the night progressed, we began to talk about Samuel and everything that happened. Everyone was able to ask me questions and listen as I told them what it was like. It was so good! I like to talk about him. I love to hear other people say his name and ask me about him. I liked knowing people wanted to hear about him. I like people asking me how I feel about things and what it's been like for me to go thought this whole situation of his sickness and death. The questions were good and overall the conversation was very healing for me. I got to say out loud how I was feeling and what I thought. I was so glad they asked!

Around midnight, when Bryan texted me to say "are you ok?" (I had told him I would probably be home at that time...oops!) we finally said "goodnight" and I left.

As I drove home, I felt so good. It felt so nice to feel happy! I realized something important. I have so many different roles in life. I'm a wife, a mother, a sister, a daughter, an auntie, a friend, etc. For so long, almost all my focus has been on being a mom. I almost forgot that I can be those other things too! Being one or the other doesn't negate the others. I can be a friend and a woman who needs time to herself and it's okay. It doesn't for one second make me less of a loving mother or less of a person who is grieving her son's death. It doesn't mean I love Samuel any less or that I've "moved on". It means that I needed a break. I needed to feel "normal" for a night. I came home, kissed Bryan and went to bed. I actually fell asleep quickly for a change! I woke up feeling the same amount of "Ok". I have so much love for Samuel in my heart. I miss him so deeply. I will always miss him until the day I get to see him again. I will still hurt for him and for me and Bryan, and I will still grieve that he's gone for now. Last night gave me what I needed: a break from the pain. A bit of the new normal. I'm so thankful for good friends!

*As I was finishing writing this, a package was dropped off at out door. It was a gift box with a note: "Because we know you've been feeling blue...here's some sunshine just for you!". It's a box full of yellow, fun things and treats. It's from some friends at our church. I'm so thankful that people care about us and that God puts people in our lives to show us His love. (And what a great idea for a gift!)

I'm not alright

Every morning with my very first thought, I think of Samuel. All day long, he is on my mind. Every night, with my last thought of the day, I think of Samuel. Sometimes it hurts so bad I just want to not think about anything at all. My brain is trying to make sense of something that is senseless. I lie in bed, every moment of his life,  birth and death running though my head. All the "what if's" and "should have's" trying their best to infiltrate my thinking. I can't go down that road. What's done is done. I hate it. How can my heart feel so empty and heavy at the same time? I hate that with each day I'm moving farther and farther away from the time I had with him. He will always be in my heart, but that's not enough. All I want is my baby. I hate that I have no choice but to carry on. What else can I do? I'm not alright, I'm broken inside.

One Month

My baby should be one month old today. I can't believe he's not here. My heart is aching to be with him. How on earth did all this happen? I wonder: would he be smiling? I wish I could see him smile.

Yesterday was my first Mother's Day. I had been dreading the day. I was so worried that no one would say "Happy Mother's Day" to me. I am a mother. I can't help it that my baby is not with me. That was not my choice. I thought of all the women who hurt on Mother's day. There are so many women who are mamas without babies. The day is supposed to be the day to honor the work of motherhood. And that's awesome...it is a lot of work! But for so many women, it's a day to remind them of what's missing. I know that's not the intention, but I know it's a day of a lot of pain and sadness for many women. Now, it is for me too. How do you celebrate being a mom if you can't have your baby? Are you still a mother even if you don't have the baby you so desperately want? I think so! There are plenty of women with babies who are not mothers and plenty of women without babies who are. I believe it's all a matter of their heart.

Everything is so backwards in our lives. How did it happen that the time that should be filled with so much joy is the time of so much heartbreak? Bryan said it and I agree: nothing in life feels right.

Bryan did his best for me yesterday. He made me breakfast and then we talked about Samuel. We looked at photos and watched the video of him. I tried to focus on the time I had with Samuel; just being his mama. I remembered singing to him, reading to him and rocking with him. I remembered how I would talk to him and he would kick in response. Those are the best moments of my life.

Some dear friends and family members called/texted/emailed to share their love for us. It helped. The messages were all the same idea: it shouldn't be this way...he should be here with us.

I remembered this song:

This is not how is should be...
this is not how it could be...
but this is how it is
and our God is in control. 

This is not how it will be. I need to keep my focus on this the most. This is not how it will be. When I am back with Samuel, all of the pain will be gone forever. I just need to somehow make it to that day. 
 

While I was pregnant, we started a small garden on the side of our house. Since Samuel was still with us at it's creation, we decided to make it his garden now. So yesterday we went to get flowers for his garden. While we were at the store, I made the mistake of looking around at people. So many happy moms with their babies. Why not me? I just don't understand. (This is why I don't go anywhere unless I have to). While we were waiting to check out, I looked in the cart next to us. I saw a baby carrier with a tiny little newborn foot poking out. That should be us. We should be the family with the tiny new baby. But we're not. We're the family with broken dreams and broken hearts, buying flowers to remember our lost love. It's all we have. I hate it.

I miss my Samuel...

(Here is his garden. It's blue and yellow flowers. I'll take another photo when they bloom. )

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I found this interview with the Chapman family yesterday. There is some good information about grieving so I thought I'd share. I can identify so much with the mother's words: "I don't care who's lives are changed, I want Maria back." It's not about being uncaring towards others. It's about not wanting to trade your baby for the encouragement of others. When people tell me how Samuel has changed their lives, my first thought is "I don't care... I just want my baby back". But since the outcome is set, then I guess it's good to know that at least he has made a difference.

What the daughter says is also so true: it's like a winding road and you don't know what's around each turn. Sometimes you can be okay, then only moments later, you're not at all okay. My heart breaks for their family.