Christmas 2013

     Christmas morning has come. The presents have all been opened. The bubbas have been entertained all morning with Legos and Angry Birds and video games. All the preparation of the last month. All the worry that it would all be just so. That everyone got at least one thing they really wanted. All of it over in minutes.

      As I sit here sipping my coffee, listening to the sounds of four little boys as they work together to put together their Legos, I know I am blessed. Yet there is also this feeling that someone is missing. Always. His absence is felt. The boys and their sissy were talking about Sterling last night. How old he would be now. What they thought he would be like. What toys they thought he would like. And their voices always drift off. It hurts.

      This is our third Christmas without Sterling physically here. We only had one with him and he was only two months old. He still slept most of his day. He was mesmerized by the Christmas tree lights and the music. But he was too little to open presents and understand Santa and Jesus. I look through the pictures of that Christmas and I see five happy, smiling faces. They were all so little and the world was still a safe, happy place.

     December 2011 changed all that. Our entire family learned in an instant that life can be scary and unpredictable. That Christmas just 22 days after Sterling died was such a blur. I read somewhere its called God's anesthetic. Because if we had felt the magnitude of our loss and pain immediately we surely would not have survived. It has come off in small doses over the course of the last two years.

     I wonder if that is why this third Christmas hurts so much more? I wonder if its because he would be three now and would be completely "getting" it all this year? I wonder if its because his bubbas are getting older and realizing more and more what they lost, what our family lost? I have no idea. I just wish more then anything that we had another Christmas with Sterling.

     The bubbas and I decided this year that we would buy a gift or two that we thought Sterling would like and donate it to the PICU where Sterling spent the last two days of his life. Then the stomach flu hit us last week and then an ice storm so we weren't able to take them but we will in the next few days. Its a tradition that brings us some joy.  It also allows us to share Sterling's memory while giving back to the hospital that has done so much for us during some of our darkest moments.

      I also want to wish all of you out there in blogland a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Thank you so much for reading my ramblings we heal and find hope along the way.

A letter to Sterling's Bubbas......

      My boys have been struggling with their grief. They lost their brother and their mother. I know our lives will never be the same but different doesn't have to mean bad. Our lives can be good again. So I started working with a counselor for the kids. Surprise, surprise, I am looking at myself more closely and realizing my own issues and how they are affecting my boys. But this is a good thing. Knowing what needs to be fixed means its fixable.

      We finally have a counselor that gives me hope. I know it will be a long road ahead for us. I know that what happened was traumatic and we are all forever changed. I know we are hurting unlike anything else we have ever felt before. But I love my boys and I am willing to do the work to help heal their little hearts.  I am making this letter to my boys public so that I may hold myself more accountable.



Dear Boys,

     I know it was scary when Sterling died. I know you saw me scared and crying and that scared you. I know you didn't understand what was going on. One minute your baby brother was here and the next he was gone. And there were police in our house. And Mommy gone. And Grammy gone. For days we were gone and you were at home with friends who tried their best but weren't your Mommy. In those days you came to a hospital to see us and your baby brother was so swollen and had lots of wires and tubes. I know that scared you. And I am so very sorry you were so scared.

      When Mommy came home without your brother you needed routine and Mommy tried. I really tried. But my heart was so very broken. You asked if I would be this sad if it had been one of you instead of the baby. I told you I would still be this sad, I love you all. And then I retreated into my pain, into my fear. I tried to be the best Mommy to you but my heart hurt so bad I didn't always succeed. I am so very sorry for that.

     From this day on I promise you I will work harder to be the Mommy you deserve. The one who gives you her full attention as much as possible. The one who will live in the moment again. When I snuggle you, I promise to not think about anything but how much I love you. I promise to work hard with your counselor to find ways to make you feel safe and loved again. I promise I will work hard to not yell or lose my temper, please know grief left me raw and it really wasn't any one of you.

     I love you all so much. I always said the angels brought each one of you into my life. I was always meant to be your Mommy. Our lives may not be easy but our love will always remain strong. We are hurting because of our great love for Sterling. And that love will help us heal. I promise you that.

Love you always and forever,

Mommy

Two Years....

     On this date two years ago at 12:34 in the afternoon Sterling was pronounced dead after taking his final breath in my arms. I remember so vividly the staff telling me they were going to silence the alarms and then they would turn off all the life saving machines that were keeping my baby alive. They told me he would go quickly. But I had been praying, begging, pleading that my baby take a breath. I would take care of him forever, just please let him live. I was sure he was going to live.

      I remember the doctor coming in and putting that stethoscope to my baby's chest. He put his head down and said "I'm sorry, he's gone. Time of death...." I heard nothing else. The sounds that came from somewhere so deep within my soul....the sounds that came from my daughter. I would learn later my sister had to catch her as she screamed "NO!" and her knees went out on her. My mother moaning. Everyone around us with tears. And then as it got quiet, one by one they left the room.

      I was left alone, staring at my beautiful baby boy. His little body so swollen. But still my beautiful baby boy. I wanted the nurses to take the breathing tube out of his mouth but they couldn't. The coroner wanted it left in. But I wanted, needed to kiss his lips. So the nurse cut it back. And I kissed my baby's lips. I kissed his cheeks. I held his hand. I never wanted to let him go. Never. But his body began showing death and I couldn't watch it anymore. The coroner was called.

     I heard his voice. He said "I'm not putting her baby on a stretcher or a body bag. Do you have an infant car seat?" They did. He sat down to ask some questions while I held my baby. When he was done I can't remember if I handed my baby to him or if I put him in the car seat. I can remember so much but some details still elude me. I do know that I asked if I could walk him out. I was so weak from not eating for a few days and from crying for days straight that they wouldn't let me walk. And they wouldn't let me carry my baby. So I was wheeled while Sterling was carried in the car seat. As we got to the door I asked to see him once more.

     I pulled the blanket back and kissed him once more. I don't remember much else except telling him to make sure he kept Sterling covered and warm because it was cold out. And please take care of him. He promised me he would and he left. I went very weak and nearly fell but the ladies grabbed me and helped me into the wheelchair. I sat wondering when I was going to wake up, please God let me wake up! My mother and niece pulled up with my van and I was helped in. I turned around and there was my baby's car seat. Empty.

     Silence. The ride home was silent. Christmas music was on the radio and I hated it. I looked at the gloomy day (the weather much like it was today) and all the cars and bustle of our town. All I could think was that none of these people knew. None of them knew that the world just lost the most precious, sweetest, loving, amazing little boy ever. How could they just go about their day like nothing happened?

     That was my first experience in the loneliness of grief. My world was shattered but everyone else still went about their day. They still had their innocence and mine was gone. I have worked hard these last two years on healing. On coming to terms with the life I have now. Working hard at keeping my son's memory alive. Finding balance between the two worlds I now live in. I have worked hard on the anger that not only I have but Sterling's bubbas have as well. How do we use that in a healthy way?

     So as I am sitting tonight in a quiet house. Everyone sleeping. I let it all go. I cry. I question. I look for hope in this sea of sadness. I miss my baby, I always will. I can come to terms with the fact that he lived and died just as he was always meant to, but I never have to like it. 

     Sterling is loved just as much today as he was two years ago. In many ways he is loved more. Love has a funny way of growing over time that way. Even if the person we love has left their bodies, our love grows. I live with the hope that I will one day be reunited with him. That I will be able to kiss and hold and hug him again. Its the only way I survive this life without him.