November

 November has long been a month of extreme emotions/events for me. In 2005 the first of the month, Tommy called and told me he'd been cheating on me. His mom tried to put blame on me because he's bipolar and I'd left for college. He then left me for the girl he cheated with. I thought I would never be more heartbroken than that (hindsight would later prove that although this betrayal was so painful, it didn't even brush the surface of the heart breaks that Novembers would bring, and in the end was truly for the better.) 

On a good note, Ryan and I reconnected and it turned out that the crush I'd been harboring for years was returned and that Thanksgiving we started hanging out and this year marks 18 years together. Also his birthday is in November and it's always wonderful to celebrate the life of someone you love.

Several years later, my Grampa, my last blood related grandparent passed away.  

Then in 2014, my heart was ripped out of my chest and torn apart and though that wound has healed, my heart and I will never be the same. Every year Nico's birthday is a devastating reminder of everything I missed with him, all the firsts, all that love I had to give, seeing him be a big brother. Every year, my brain replays the worst moments of my life with absolute clarity- I can hear the doctor telling me that he's dead, I can hear my sobs, I can smell him, I can feel his forehead under my lips as I kissed him goodbye.

And then last year I lost Jin too. My first baby, my fur baby, who was with me through so many of the other awful moments but also so many good ones. And I miss him terribly. 

Purpose

 I started this blog with the intention of finding my purpose. It abruptly turned into a place for me to grieve, a place that I could safely release those horrible feelings.

 I finally had my baby and found it, that was it, this was my purpose. 

But now it's five years later and I've lost myself. I'm her mom and I love it and she's the best part of my life, but sometimes it feels like she's the only part of my life. Apart from being Mommy, I have no idea who I am anymore. I have no social life. I have no sense of style. I have no real hobbies; for like an hour or two a day I crochet and watch a TV show but that's it. I scroll social media, but it's just something to do to fill time. And I know there are other things I should be doing- there's an endless supply of laundry and dishes, but finding the motivation to actually get up and take care of things is a struggle. And then I feel like a lazy bag of crap when I don't, but that turns into a vicious cycle. The worse I feel, the harder it is to take care of those things.

I am a snack getter, a meal maker, a juice fetcher, a pair of eyes to find all the misplaced things.

I'm tired and I'm lost.

But I'm Mommy and that should be enough, right?

 It's been six years. I still think of you every day. It still hurts. But it always hurts the worst today. On your sister's birthday I can share of how she's grown and changed over the past year. I have no more pictures of you, I have no new memories. I just have this ache in my chest. 

This year, for the first time when I bake your cake, Leyna is going to help. I realized a few days ago that some day I'm going to have to explain who you are, why we have pictures of "Baby Nico" and why we always bake on November 10th. I don't have any idea how to tell her or what to say.

I woke up a little around 4 this morning and I remembered how I was feeling at that time six years ago. I remember crying because I wanted the pain to stop, but didn't want to do what was necessary for it to end. So I fought my body for as long as humanly possible, for hours, keeping you where you were, keeping you with me. But I couldn't keep you forever. 

Your scent on your hat and blanket is long gone, but it's imprinted in my brain and I can almost smell you if I close my eyes and picture you.

I don't have  much to say today, my brain isn't creative or poetic. It's just a swirling mess of memory and hurt. So I will leave you with the words of some lovely authors who were able to capture it perfectly. 

I wanted you more

than you ever will know

so I sent  love to follow

wherever you go.

....

My love is so high, and so wide 

and so deep, it’s always right there, 

even when you’re asleep.

...

You are my angel, my darling,

my star…and my love will find you,

wherever you are.

You are loved.

I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.

When Pap died, I had this vision of him and Nico holding hands and walking through a field. It was a really nice image. And then I found out that Staci and Mawmaw had the same vision.
One other person with that vision could maybe be a coincidence, but not all three of us. So as much as we would all rather have them here so we could be with them, at least they are together.



There is a big porch attached to a farmhouse. On the porch there is a wooden rocking chair and a family swing. Grandmas are there rocking a baby girl. A little blonde haired boy is running around. There's more, but that's all I can see right now.


"His whole life, the only thing he knew was your love."
Ryan said that to me and it's one of the only things that's ever given any amount of comfort.  Until now. I'm starting to get these tiny little glimpses of him. Call me crazy, call it wishful thinking. I don't care. I believe it's real. I think after all the horrible things I've seen in the same kind of vision, it's a nice change. And maybe some day I'll touch on those things, but not today. Today is my little boy's birthday and he is 5 years old. I wish so desperately that he was here and we could celebrate together, but this little snippet of him surrounded by family and still just feeling loved is the best I can realistically hope for.


I loved you then. I love you now. I'll love you forever, the only way I know how.

A Farewell

Several years ago, my last remaining blood related grandparent died. You hugged me and said it was ok, that I still had a grandpa. "I'm your grandpa now." But now you're gone too. And it sucks. And you suffered needlessly for a long time. So because of that, I'm glad you're at rest and you aren't suffering anymore, but I miss you and I will keep missing you. And my grief is so minuscule compared to what the rest of your family is feeling, because they knew and loved you much longer, but you were a part of my life for over a decade and a daily part of it for almost three years.

I have a lot of memories of you and they are all good, but memories are never as good as having the person that's in them. There's always that wish to have been able to see you one more time. To have gone "home" one more time. Your house hasn't been my home for quite a few years now, but it will always be one of those places that has a sense of home in my heart.

You were so strong, but kind, a hard worker, but you knew how to relax and make everyone around you smile and laugh. I often think of what a jokester you were and how quick witted you were. I know where your daughter and grandchildren get their strength and humor from. 

In the sadness, I'm trying to focus on the positives- remembering you as you were before you got sick, remembering how strong you were and how hard you fought even after you got sick. That we did at least get to talk to you one more time. We thought there would be more chances, but at least we had that one, and Leyna got to talk to you and say your name and tell you she loved you. We got to say we loved you one more time, so you knew we were thinking of you and loving you, even from afar.

And yesterday... you got to meet my son.


Rest peacefully and I hope you and Nico are having a great time together. I have a vision of you two walking through a field together holding hands. One of those things, like the time I heard his voice, that doesn't seem real to others, but make sense, and I know to be true.

 Until we meet again... xoxo

When someone loses a limb, they learn to adapt, how to live without it. Because they have to. They might still have phantom pain or sensation even though the limb is no longer there.

Grief is like losing a limb. You learn to live with part of your heart missing. Because you have to. The rest of your heart will keep reaching out to that empty space, and it hurts. Every. Time.
Your heart becomes a puzzle that will never be solved. There's a piece missing from it- an important one. There's enough pieces remaining that you can see what it was supposed to be, but it's not quite right. Sometimes beautiful, wonderful things happen and your heart grows, you add new pieces to your puzzle. But none of these new pieces fit or fill that empty space.

Time does not heal all wounds.


How has it been another year already? He's four years old now. His birthday cake this year is going to be Petit fours, because even though fours doesn't mean the number, it makes sense to me.
Leyna loves carrying around his picture and giving him kisses. It's so sweet and it also completely breaks my heart.

I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.
Happy birthday Nico.

I'm struggling

I was at the park the other day and saw a brother and sister who were playing and I thought how nice it was that they had a built in best friend/playmate. Then I looked at Leyna who was playing by herself. And my heart broke a little. 

I see pictures of my friends and the relationship their children have with each other and it hurts.

I think it's so great that their children have that bond and I am truly happy for them, but it still hurts.

She was supposed to have that.

I've been going through old baby clothes and trying to decide what to do with them. The ones I have a really strong emotional attachment to are going to be part of a quilt, but the rest? I don't know why I'm having such a hard time letting go.

Maybe because it's the finality of it. She's my last baby...the only one who came home with us. 

As badly as I wish she had a sibling, it's not that I want to have another baby. I want MY babies.  She already has siblings...just, not in the traditional sense. And it sucks. And I don't think it's fair. To either of us.

Every day I live in fear of something happening to her. I'm sure most parents have that to some extent, but it's getting worse. I have nightmares. When she's sleeping I have to check on her a lot to make sure she's ok because my brain tells me that if I have the chance to check on her (got up to go to the bathroom or something) and I don't, that she won't be ok that time, and it will be my fault, that if I checked on her everything would have been ok. Sometimes, I get a rare chance to sleep or rest, and I have to get out of bed and check on her because my mind won't stop screaming "what ifs" at me.

Sometimes when I look at pictures of her when she was teeny tiny, I almost want to have another baby. But I don't. Not really. On top of being really happy with Leyna and loving each new stage more (and loving her more) I couldn't deal with this fear and anxiety multiplied.

And I honestly have a feeling that even if I did get pregnant again, I would come home with empty arms again.