I Survived

Last year on December 23rd we announced to our then 5 year old daughter that she would no longer be an only child. Unfortunately here we are a year later and she remains, in her words, a "lonely" child.

When I was pregnant with Zach I imagined what the future would be like with two children. I imagined walking my daughter to school with him in his stroller. I imagined picking her up and her little head popping into the stroller to greet him and I imagined him giggling with delight at the sight of her. I imagined that she would be the center of her baby brother's Universe. I imagined our first Christmas as a "real" family. We decided to have everyone to our house so that he wouldn't have to go out in the cold.

I imagined life with two children for many milestones that have passed over the last couple of months. My daughter's birthday, my best friend's wedding, Thanksgiving, Halloween and Christmas. I looked forward to sharing all of those events with my children. When those events came and went I was proud of myself for having survived each one. Not always with grace and dignity and sometimes with tears and pain but I made it through. With each one I realized my stregth and ability to overcome just about anything. I wondered if Christmas would be the same.

In the end, having survived this first Christmas without our baby boy I can honestly say that the anticipation was worse than the actual event. I survived. We survived. Hopefully this next year will bring happiness and health and a healthy baby brother or sister for our little girl.

I am not sad to say goodbye to 2009. Bring on 2010 and all it has to offer!

5 months ago today

5 months ago today I held your angel body.
I looked at your angel face and kissed your angel skin.
5 months ago today you came into this world without a sound...
Without a breath...
I unwrapped you and looked at your tiny body, I counted your fingers and toes and kissed your hands...
I held my hand to your chest and longed for your heart to beat...
I touched your soft hair and your tiny ears.
We compared your looks to those of your big sister on the day that she was born.
We talked about what colour your eyes would be, if only they would open.
I sang to you and rocked you and loved you as much as any Mommy could in the short period that I had with you.
No amount of time could have ever been enough.
But your body was growing tired and I knew we had to say goodbye.
I miss you every single day.
Every day I wonder what you would be like today.
I wonder what milestones you would be reaching and what kind of baby you would be.
You are always in my thoughts
You are always in my heart
You will forever be my baby boy.
Mommy loves you, Zach.
xoxoxoxo

I am entering a new phase in my grieving process. I met with a Grief Counselor for lunch yesterday. We talked for about an hour and discussed my personal situation and what I have done to pass the time. We discussed my daughter and S and how they have been coping and other family members. At the end of the meeting she said to me "What do you want from me? I mean, what do you hope to get out of meeting with me?" So I told her that I want to make sure that I am coping as well as I feel that I have been coping... To make sure that I'm not fooling myself into believing that I have delt with my grief, only to have it knock me on my ass a few months down the road. That's when she told me that I have done all the grief work and have taken an extremely healthy approach to healing and that there doesn't seem to be anything more that she can do to help me. She does, however, want to keep in touch and may recruit me to be an ambassador for this cause.
It's funny... I never imagined myself being such a fighter. I never thought that I could overcome something as life-altering as losing a baby. I always pictured myself as more of a curl up and die kind of person... but if I were to do that, then what would that say about my son's life? How could I let that be his legacy? I refuse to let my son's death be in vain. I need to feel like his death was for a purpose, even if the wisdom I have gained from losing him helps to save just one other baby, this pain that I have endured will have been worth it.
I can't imagine allowing this tragedy to define me. I need to emerge from this a better person, a better wife, a better mother. I want to remember my son in a positive way. I want to think of him and smile and know that he made a difference. I can't be sad forever. I can't be angry. I have to believe that I was chosen, that my family was chosen to travel this path for a reason. I have to believe that my baby was taken because I am a person who can make a difference. I am a person who can stand up for a change. I will dig for answers and look for solutions in order for other families to avoid having to go through what we've been through. I need to show my daughter that holding your head up high when all you want to do is fade into the darkness is the right way to overcome adversity. She needs to know that nobody is exempt from pain but how you get through it is what makes you stand apart from the crowd.