Summer is for healing and fun......

     I have decided this summer is going to be all about intentional healing.  Not only healing my deep, excruciating pain from Sterling's death, but also healing my heart from years and years of feeling less then everyone else. I am determined to recognize and change the way I think about myself.

     I grew up the youngest of five kids in my family. The oldest was pregnant the same time as our mom and her kids and I grew up together. My older siblings were older by many years and I have a different dad then they do. My early years were spent with me idolizing them and them, well, it felt like they wanted nothing to do with me. I was often introduced as "just a half sister." I was not allowed to ever be sassy or naughty, like what I now know is typical of kids. When I was naughty, it wasn't forgotten and I was excluded. My early years were spent at Disney, Knotts and the beaches of Southern California. I had fun and wouldn't trade any of it, but I never felt like I belonged in my own family, I was always the outsider. It left some serious scars.

     When we moved to the midwest when I was in middle school, I felt even more like I didn't fit in. I had no friends and a new niece that I babysat that first summer. (I would later adopt her when she was 12 and I was 25). I began to turn to food and gained weight. Because of my early years of feeling like I didn't belong, I never truly accepted friendships. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. We also didn't live in the greatest neighborhood and I was embarrassed, which made it even harder to let people in. When I did let them in, I was always looking for signs or reasons to kick them back out again. Food was my comfort and my nemesis. I began yo-yo dieting and exercise fads.

     My early twenties were spent drinking, hard. I still felt like the fattest person wherever I went. I really didn't trust people to do anything but let me down. Parties gave me such anxiety so I would drink. Hard and heavy. I could do anything with my liquid courage. Being out in the world felt a little easier when I wasn't all there. This got me through to my mid-twenties.

     That was when all my friends began having babies and getting married. I still had refused to let anyone close enough to me to actually have a serious relationship with. And I was heavy. I didn't think anyone would find me attractive when I couldn't even look in the mirror without cringing a little. So I decided to foster. I figured the babies/kids would go home and so I wouldn't have to get too close to anyone. Perfect right?

     Except my first placements were these adorable baby brothers who stole my heart. A year after placement I was asked by their birth mom to adopt them. I didn't hesitate to say yes. The ups and downs of the whole process had helped me pack on even more pounds now. And these boys had some developmental issues. Then came another sweet baby boy with a heart condition. Then his two biological brothers came in the next few years. Before I knew it, I had 5 beautiful boys and my grown daughter.

     I gained so much weight and was tired. I was constantly trying to take care of everyone else while ignoring myself. Right before Sterling was born I weighed somewhere around 270lbs. I knew I needed to change. So I cut out soda and began walking. 10lbs came off. Then Sterling was born. I didn't gain it back but I didn't lose anymore. Our family felt complete with him. I began seeing how much my children loved me and that I needed to be better for them. Life started falling into place. I started letting some people in, very few people. My life was still pretty much all about my kids. But it was good. I started seeing that I deserved love just like everyone else. I began slowly venturing out more.

     Then Sterling died. And just like that the rug was pulled out from under me. I questioned everything. I was sure I did something and was being punished.

     But then something amazing began to happen. I joined a gym and began making friends. I wanted to have fun. I wanted life experiences. I began letting people in. Through social media, through talking, through hanging out. But here's the thing, my little family, we aren't like everyone else. I'm a single mom with children who weren't born into the most ideal circumstances. They have scars from that. Then they watched their baby brother die. Then one has Autism. Not everyone can handle hanging out with us. Which makes the insecurities come back.

     I have also lost about 60 pounds or more since Sterling's death, but I'm still one of the heaviest people at the gym and in most of the classes I take. I can't run as fast as my friends. I still come though because I love the way working out makes me feel.

     Why tell the world all of this? Because I am tired of carrying the weight of feeling less then everyone else. I am ready to release it. I am ready to find people who will be our friends even when we aren't the easiest to love (and I believe we have found some of those people already). I am ready to put on my swimsuit and go down the water slide with my kids and not care what anyone else thinks. I am ready to strap on a harness and rock climb with my boys and our friends because its fun.

     My children deserve to grow up not feeling like they are less then everyone else because their house isn't as big or because they don't have a dad or because their skin doesn't match their mom's. My kids deserve people in their lives who will see them behaving in ways that makes them angry but those people will love them enough to call them out on their behavior but they will also be sure to tell them how much they care about them too. My kids deserve to grow up seeing their mom not only loving them but also loving herself and others.

      So this summer we will go on as many adventures as we can. We will not allow people to shame us for being who we are. And who we are is a messy, crazy, loving family with a history no one would envy. We will be stronger and more loving then most because we have been so hurt in the past. We may be a mess but we are such a beautiful mess.

   

Unexpected Healing....

      Last month I was interviewed by one of our local news stations. I was asked many questions and we talked about so many things related to my Sterling and congenital heart defects. I had no idea what the story would look like once completed. I was very surprised at how much focus was on Sterling. I also shared a picture I had been scared to, the one of him so swollen in the PICU. I didn't want anyone to see him like that, I wanted them to remember his shining eyes and giant smile.

     Yet I also knew one day I would share it. One day it would be important for the world to see my beautiful baby boy swollen, with a breathing tube keeping him alive. They would need to see me standing next to him, his blanket draped over my shoulders. One hand cradling his head and the other holding his hand. My face swollen from crying and the look of sheer panic and shock. I knew one day I would need to share, I just didn't know how freeing it would be for me.

     When Sterling first died I couldn't remember him not swollen. I would close my eyes and all I would see was him laying in the hospital bed. I would hear the machines beeping and breathing for him. I could only feel the way the fluid went to his back as I held him after he was pronounced dead. The way my hands imprinted on his back and head. I could only remember and feel my baby in his final moments with us. It took lots of counseling, lots of talking with friends to remember my living, breathing, smiling baby boy.

     I had this one photo of him laying in the PICU. This one photo that I hid away in paperwork. The one I tried to forget. The one that I would come across on accident and it would break me. I wouldn't be expecting it and I would end up in tears every single time I saw it. Then one day I shared it. In a small group of grieving women. And then I cropped my baby and shared it publicly on my Facebook. Then I shared a little more of the picture when I went to Washington, DC. Each time I worried that other people would not remember him any other way. Each time I was surprised with so much support.

     Then it was used in this story in a way that made so many people take notice. First they saw my beautiful boy happy, smiling, loved and then the dreaded picture while the reporter is saying something along the lines of "there was nothing she, nor paramedics could do to save him." I dreaded how I was going to feel about it. But I felt freed.

     So many people who come into my life, they see pictures and videos of my very much alive, happy, smiling boy. They tell me how they have fallen in love with him. They tell me how sorry they are for my loss of this beautiful boy I called son. But they never really understood the horrible sights we saw. I held that part so private. Now more people know. More people were given a glimpse into the horror of what CHD's do to a beautiful baby's body. They see my face so desperately trying to make sense of it all.

     Today marks 3 1/2 years since that photo was taken. One of the three worst days of my life (Sterling stopped breathing on the 1st and officially died the 3rd). Today I looked through his clothes and smiled. Tears came but much later and after some wonderful memories of his beautiful body in those clothes. Today I miss my son and would still give anything to have him here again, even if only for a moment. But today I feel a little lighter. The weight of holding tight to the horrors of those days are lifted. Sharing his life and his death are healing my heart.