Today Sterling would be nine years old. It’s hard to say it out loud. It’s hard to write it. It’s hard to think about him being nine. He is forever that round, chubby, Zen baby. He never got to test the waters and make me angry or disappointed. He never got to try sports out until he found his favorite. Hell, he never even took a few unassisted steps. For his entire life he was attached to me, holding onto me while I held just as tightly onto him.
It’s been a rough few years now. Maybe you’ve noticed by my lack of writing. My mom’s dementia worsened quickly and she is now in a nursing home. I feel tremendous guilt in that. I know she wanted to remain home until she died, surrounded by her grandkids. But she was getting up all night, trying to leave. The incontinence was a constant struggle for me to keep the house clean. And when she began thinking I was someone else, and trying to attack me, I had no choice but to place her where there was staff to attend to her needs.
Then there’s Jayden. Autism, mental health and puberty haven’t been a great mix. And it’s gotten rough, really rough. I’m struggling to maintain work and life with him home. But there just aren’t places willing to accept him. We have had hope, only to have it dashed multiple times. But we are on waiting lists, and I remain hopeful that this hell won’t last forever. In the meantime, I take it moment by moment.
But today I woke up, a little emotional, but ready for the day. We shoe shopped, had a quick lunch and went to pick out his cake. I get emotional when I pick out his cake. I wonder what his favorite flavor would be? What would he want decorated on top? When they ask me what I want the cake to say, I always pause, what should it say? I honestly thought today it should say, “FUCK YOU CHD! Sterling should be 9 today, but you stole that from us!” But there’s just not enough room, and I don’t want it to be more awkward then it already is. And so I say “Happy Birthday Sterling” is fine. And we come home.
Today after singing to him and while eating cake, I played his video. The one that shows most of his life in less then 5 minutes. The boys and I start out smiling. “I remember that” comes next. And then the tears. Followed by a howling cry from one his bubbas, which made me sob uncontrollably. Baby asked us if we were ok. We told him we just miss Sterling so much that it hurts. Crying is ok when you miss someone this much. We spent the rest of the day quietly at home.
In December it will be 8 years since we last held him in our arms. But there’s not a day that goes by that we don’t hold him in our hearts. He is forever a part of us, and we with him.
Happy Birthday Sterling, you are loved and you are missed, always and forever💙🦒
Sterling is an amazing 13 month old who stopped breathing during his nap as a result of multiple congenital heart defects that had gone undiagnosed. Life as I knew it was over. The pain excrutiating. I often felt like I had died that day too. Slowly I began to see the gifts of Sterling. Follow me as my boys and I find new purpose in our lives. Watch as Sterling continues to do amazing things through each one of us. Always and Forever sweet boy.
Sunday, October 13, 2019
Friday, March 30, 2018
So many people see me today, read my social media statuses and hear all I have done in the last 6 years and they think I am healed. I find that word funny. Healed. Is there really healing when you believed in something so strongly for your entire life and in an instant it was taken from you? Can you come back from such an explosion and look even a little bit like you did before?
So I don't watch a ton of tv. I just don't have the time and now that my boys are older, they have things they want to watch and do and I refuse to have more then a couple of tv's in our home. So I have a few favorite shows and watch when I put my boys to bed. One of those being Grey's Anatomy. It has been something I have watched since it started. Its been there with each of my children. It was a show I watched with a sleeping Sterling in my arms. I struggled to watch after he died because, if you watch too, it can be very realistic.
I've always loved the character of April Kepner. Weird, I know. She was kind of annoying when she first started with all her ideals and ideas about God and life and her awkwardness. But I saw me in her. I was naive too. Believed strongly that if I just followed the rules and lived a good life and did good things, I would be ok. I believed in prayer. My life wasn't easy. I can say this now, the things that shook my world then, it was easy to see the why when the good followed. The "that's why this happened! To get me here for this!"
And then Sterling, my beautiful 13 month 2 weeks and 6 day old son, stopped breathing. I picked him up praying for God to help me. To please, please don't take him from us. I bargained with God while Sterling laid in a hospital bed for 2 days. I would do anything, give up everything and go anywhere, just please don't take him from me, from his brothers and sissy. Even as they silenced the alarms as I held him in my arms, I prayed. Sudden healing, its a thing right?! You are God! Work your miracles and we will spend the rest of our lives telling the world how amazing our God is!
Sterling died anyway. My heart didn't just break, it shattered. Violently. My body ached. My children fell apart. Our world became scary. We had to learn to live without Sterling here. But it was more then just losing him. Everything I had ever known, the safety of my neat little world, gone. Just like that. And it was terrifying. I continued to pray for a while. But the pain was so intense. And I felt no relief. And all the well meaning people trying to tell me this was His plan and He would work good out of this, it didn't ease my heart or mind, it brought even more pain.
I didn't care if anything good came from this, I still don't. I just wanted and still want my son back in my arms. Sterling wasn't a job or a house or a car that I lost and can replace with something just as good or even better. He was an amazing boy who made our family feel complete, whole. I turned away from religion and even God. I felt betrayed by Him. I felt abandoned and alone, for years. I sought people out to ask their help in figuring this out, and I know, once again, they meant well, they just put it too nicely together. Too glitchy, made it too easy. I still love them deeply for trying, for never giving up on me.
Its not easy for me. I can't ever really describe the horror of that day well enough. Even if you think you understand, I really don't believe you can unless you have lived it. My son died. I pumped his chest, terrified I might break his ribs. I breathed my air into his mouth, only to have it gurgle back into mine, something I would taste for months after. I had to answer questions, from the beginning and for months after, because people needed to be sure I didn't harm my child. I lost friends because my grief, my pain, was too much for them to see and sit with. I feared losing my other children because that is what happens when a child dies without an obvious cause. I felt so abandoned. Like I was being punished for some reason and I couldn't understand.
Before I get the messages, I don't live in this place anymore. I went to therapy, alone and with my kids. I talked and talked with other parents who have lost children. I slowly began talking to God again. But my relationships are different now. I am different now. I don't understand why this happened to me, to my family. I now believe that God isn't in quite the control I used to believe he was. I now believe bad things happen all the time, all over the world. There is no rhyme or reason for it. I don't believe Sterling died so I would speak out and save other children. My child was not a sacrifice for yours, at all. Your child isn't worth more then mine.
I believe my anger and sadness propelled me to do more. But I also know this kind of pain and sadness happens to other people and it breaks them. So I know we aren't chosen because we can handle it. And yes, a tv show and a character brought this blog post out of me. It's not a new idea for me, I have been struggling for the last 6 years with this. And I think, to some extent, I will struggle for the rest of my life with it. Because I like things to fit neatly into their place. I like to think that if I behave this way, I know the results. It is extremely hard for me knowing that isn't how it works. That we all just do the best we can in the moment.
So thank you Grey's and Sarah Drew and all the people who created and told this story. Once again you came so close to real life. And as someone who sees so much of herself in a character, I appreciate it. It makes this journey a little less lonely knowing others get it and are willing to talk about it.
So I don't watch a ton of tv. I just don't have the time and now that my boys are older, they have things they want to watch and do and I refuse to have more then a couple of tv's in our home. So I have a few favorite shows and watch when I put my boys to bed. One of those being Grey's Anatomy. It has been something I have watched since it started. Its been there with each of my children. It was a show I watched with a sleeping Sterling in my arms. I struggled to watch after he died because, if you watch too, it can be very realistic.
I've always loved the character of April Kepner. Weird, I know. She was kind of annoying when she first started with all her ideals and ideas about God and life and her awkwardness. But I saw me in her. I was naive too. Believed strongly that if I just followed the rules and lived a good life and did good things, I would be ok. I believed in prayer. My life wasn't easy. I can say this now, the things that shook my world then, it was easy to see the why when the good followed. The "that's why this happened! To get me here for this!"
And then Sterling, my beautiful 13 month 2 weeks and 6 day old son, stopped breathing. I picked him up praying for God to help me. To please, please don't take him from us. I bargained with God while Sterling laid in a hospital bed for 2 days. I would do anything, give up everything and go anywhere, just please don't take him from me, from his brothers and sissy. Even as they silenced the alarms as I held him in my arms, I prayed. Sudden healing, its a thing right?! You are God! Work your miracles and we will spend the rest of our lives telling the world how amazing our God is!
Sterling died anyway. My heart didn't just break, it shattered. Violently. My body ached. My children fell apart. Our world became scary. We had to learn to live without Sterling here. But it was more then just losing him. Everything I had ever known, the safety of my neat little world, gone. Just like that. And it was terrifying. I continued to pray for a while. But the pain was so intense. And I felt no relief. And all the well meaning people trying to tell me this was His plan and He would work good out of this, it didn't ease my heart or mind, it brought even more pain.
I didn't care if anything good came from this, I still don't. I just wanted and still want my son back in my arms. Sterling wasn't a job or a house or a car that I lost and can replace with something just as good or even better. He was an amazing boy who made our family feel complete, whole. I turned away from religion and even God. I felt betrayed by Him. I felt abandoned and alone, for years. I sought people out to ask their help in figuring this out, and I know, once again, they meant well, they just put it too nicely together. Too glitchy, made it too easy. I still love them deeply for trying, for never giving up on me.
Its not easy for me. I can't ever really describe the horror of that day well enough. Even if you think you understand, I really don't believe you can unless you have lived it. My son died. I pumped his chest, terrified I might break his ribs. I breathed my air into his mouth, only to have it gurgle back into mine, something I would taste for months after. I had to answer questions, from the beginning and for months after, because people needed to be sure I didn't harm my child. I lost friends because my grief, my pain, was too much for them to see and sit with. I feared losing my other children because that is what happens when a child dies without an obvious cause. I felt so abandoned. Like I was being punished for some reason and I couldn't understand.
Before I get the messages, I don't live in this place anymore. I went to therapy, alone and with my kids. I talked and talked with other parents who have lost children. I slowly began talking to God again. But my relationships are different now. I am different now. I don't understand why this happened to me, to my family. I now believe that God isn't in quite the control I used to believe he was. I now believe bad things happen all the time, all over the world. There is no rhyme or reason for it. I don't believe Sterling died so I would speak out and save other children. My child was not a sacrifice for yours, at all. Your child isn't worth more then mine.
I believe my anger and sadness propelled me to do more. But I also know this kind of pain and sadness happens to other people and it breaks them. So I know we aren't chosen because we can handle it. And yes, a tv show and a character brought this blog post out of me. It's not a new idea for me, I have been struggling for the last 6 years with this. And I think, to some extent, I will struggle for the rest of my life with it. Because I like things to fit neatly into their place. I like to think that if I behave this way, I know the results. It is extremely hard for me knowing that isn't how it works. That we all just do the best we can in the moment.
So thank you Grey's and Sarah Drew and all the people who created and told this story. Once again you came so close to real life. And as someone who sees so much of herself in a character, I appreciate it. It makes this journey a little less lonely knowing others get it and are willing to talk about it.
Friday, October 13, 2017
I woke up this morning whispering, "Happy Birthday Sterling, I love and miss you so much..." And then I came downstairs and started my day. With five boys, several of whom have special needs, my day begins immediately and with energy and a bit of orchestrated chaos. But today everyone had a little more edge to them. I began to ask if they knew what today was, a few knew and a few were clueless. Though I feel like, based off their behavior, their bodies remembered and knew.
I got the two biggest boys off to school as another toddler was added to the mix for the day. I'm homeschooling the two little boys while also trying to keep two toddlers entertained and safe. So we joined a home school co-op today. We had to be ready and packed up and out the door early to drive into the city (45 minutes away) to ice skate with new friends. One of my boys has anxiety so not being able to give him details and show him ahead of time what was happening made for an intense morning and a few near meltdowns. I drove off at 8:45 am, exhausted.
The boys were quiet and I got to have some quiet reflection as I drove. The sky was beautiful and I again whispered, "I wish you were here sweet boy...."
The boys had fun. The toddlers fought and screamed and tossed Cheerios for the adults to pick up. I learned that not everyone home schools the same and our kids will be ok. My kids made friends and we can't wait to meet up with them again.
As our work day ended, we ate dinner and then ran to the store to pick up a cake and ice cream for Sterling. I've done this for six years now, buying a cake for a child who wouldn't be here to blow out the candles. But this year as I walked in, I wanted to feel and remember it. I wanted to try to explain it to you, so here goes....
I can hear everything as I walk in...and my mind goes to when I used to shop with my little buddy...its so strange, I can still feel him in my arms...the weight, the smells all his own....I see the people and the parents with children and I wonder if they have ever had to make funeral arrangements for their most amazing child....I walk up to the bakery and I instantly regret being so busy this week and not preordering a cake...but we find one that works...she asks what I want her to write on it...I discuss with my 10 year old...we decide to write it as though he was here...we don't tell anyone he isn't this trip...we just don't have the energy to....we walk out to the cash register and I look down at the writing "Happy 7th Birthday Sterling" and I remind myself not to cry here...I look around and wonder if the world knows that the most amazing Zen baby never got to become the most amazing 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and now 7 year old....do they know how my heart longs to touch his face again? How I would give anything to kiss those cheeks again? Do they care?
We go home and light a #7 candle. We sing. We collectively blow out the candle, its so quiet for a celebration, but yet there is joy. We picked out a toy we thought a 7 year old boy might like and we will find the right recipient soon. We played a game. Got ready for bed. And now that the house is quiet, I sit, remembering. Longing. Holding onto hope.
Our family has had a rough year, big changes are still ahead. And I am exhausted most days. But I am grateful. Grateful for Sterling. Grateful for Gia and Jaxon and Jayden and Sawyer and Silas and for Mr Toddler who we still don't know what the future holds for him, but we are choosing to enjoy whatever time we have with him. I'm going to bed still missing my baby, I think I always will. And that is ok.
Happy Birthday Sterling. You are loved and you are missed, always and forever. I wish more then anything I could know a 7 year old you.
I got the two biggest boys off to school as another toddler was added to the mix for the day. I'm homeschooling the two little boys while also trying to keep two toddlers entertained and safe. So we joined a home school co-op today. We had to be ready and packed up and out the door early to drive into the city (45 minutes away) to ice skate with new friends. One of my boys has anxiety so not being able to give him details and show him ahead of time what was happening made for an intense morning and a few near meltdowns. I drove off at 8:45 am, exhausted.
The boys were quiet and I got to have some quiet reflection as I drove. The sky was beautiful and I again whispered, "I wish you were here sweet boy...."
The boys had fun. The toddlers fought and screamed and tossed Cheerios for the adults to pick up. I learned that not everyone home schools the same and our kids will be ok. My kids made friends and we can't wait to meet up with them again.
As our work day ended, we ate dinner and then ran to the store to pick up a cake and ice cream for Sterling. I've done this for six years now, buying a cake for a child who wouldn't be here to blow out the candles. But this year as I walked in, I wanted to feel and remember it. I wanted to try to explain it to you, so here goes....
I can hear everything as I walk in...and my mind goes to when I used to shop with my little buddy...its so strange, I can still feel him in my arms...the weight, the smells all his own....I see the people and the parents with children and I wonder if they have ever had to make funeral arrangements for their most amazing child....I walk up to the bakery and I instantly regret being so busy this week and not preordering a cake...but we find one that works...she asks what I want her to write on it...I discuss with my 10 year old...we decide to write it as though he was here...we don't tell anyone he isn't this trip...we just don't have the energy to....we walk out to the cash register and I look down at the writing "Happy 7th Birthday Sterling" and I remind myself not to cry here...I look around and wonder if the world knows that the most amazing Zen baby never got to become the most amazing 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and now 7 year old....do they know how my heart longs to touch his face again? How I would give anything to kiss those cheeks again? Do they care?
We go home and light a #7 candle. We sing. We collectively blow out the candle, its so quiet for a celebration, but yet there is joy. We picked out a toy we thought a 7 year old boy might like and we will find the right recipient soon. We played a game. Got ready for bed. And now that the house is quiet, I sit, remembering. Longing. Holding onto hope.
Our family has had a rough year, big changes are still ahead. And I am exhausted most days. But I am grateful. Grateful for Sterling. Grateful for Gia and Jaxon and Jayden and Sawyer and Silas and for Mr Toddler who we still don't know what the future holds for him, but we are choosing to enjoy whatever time we have with him. I'm going to bed still missing my baby, I think I always will. And that is ok.
Happy Birthday Sterling. You are loved and you are missed, always and forever. I wish more then anything I could know a 7 year old you.
Wednesday, December 28, 2016
2016
Where do I begin...2016...you started out just like every new year full of promise. My little family was just beginning to feel comfortable in our skin again. Things beginning to look like they were falling into place. Even old relationships were being mended. And then just like that, you started pulling on that rug I was beginning to trust again. You know, the one you ripped so suddenly, so violently out from under me when Sterling died? I was just beginning to trust it again.
I guess I should thank you for not ripping so violently this time. No. This time you started back in Spring with a little tug, made me lose my balance a little. But you let me regain my footing and stand on it with even more purpose then before. A "little' blip on the map of life, we survived and recovered quite quickly. If I really look back, I would say too quickly. It wasn't quite the same but I so desperately needed it to be. I overlooked issues building, smoldering, preparing to explode.
I needed to feel that safety of the firm footing on that rug. I clung to it really. I am a fighter and I keep looking for ways to fix things, people, everything. I don't believe in giving up on my children or on other people or projects. I will try everything I can think of to make it "right." Even if it means I sacrifice myself in the process.
Then Fall came. Back to school. Transitions. Sterling's birthday. The possibility of losing our precious foster baby. That rug started feeling a bit shaky. But still I try. New medications. IEP's at school for a few of my kids. Anything. Everything. We must be "normal" or at least appear to be. No one can see we are barely able to stand on that rug we cling to for stability.
Things begin to calm. But I should've known. That false sense of security, just like the calm before the storm. And just like that, EXPLOSION. Where is that rug? I can't find it. But I MUST keep my family together, at all costs. Thats what family does, they stick together. Always. Even as my 12 year old punched me in the side of the head. Even as he had my hair in his fists, violently yanking, pulling as the screams of pain came from my mouth. Even as I am looking at his eyes, once so full of love, now full of something I can't describe, now void of anything I once knew. Even as I'm swollen and sore and scared wondering what is happening to my boy, there has to be a reason. Something we can fix.
We try to fix it. With hospital stays and medication changes. We miss him. He misses us. He comes home. Only to turn around just days later, in the midst of the 3 worst dates of my life, the days Sterling died. He was doing so well. So well. And in an instant he took off running. Breaking things and hitting those of us trying to help him. Back to the hospital we go. This time broken in so many ways. That rug is gone, I fear it might be gone for good this time. December is not our friend. December now holds so much loss and pain.
When he came home this time he lasted not even 24 hours before losing it again. It was in my panic running after him watching as he headed for a major road with traffic that I knew. I knew without a doubt this isn't ok. I cannot do this. I could not keep Sterling safe, or alive because of things going on in his body that I couldn't see. But this child? This child's needs are right in front of my face. And if I choose to ignore, I may end up responsible for his death. I would never survive that, I barely survived Sterling's. In that moment when the police showed up and my son was safe, I hoped into the back of the squad car to give him information and instead the sobs came so deep I couldn't speak. Our lives are never going to be the same.
But one thing I clung so deeply to after Sterling's death is that our lives can be different. Different doesn't have to mean better or worse, its just different. I am so tired of making plans with my children only to have life laugh at me and make it something different. This life, with a dead child and a child with developmental disabilities is not what I ever, ever, imagined for myself. But I am a fighter. I will grieve what is lost and I will find the joy again one day. I promise I will.
I guess I should thank you for not ripping so violently this time. No. This time you started back in Spring with a little tug, made me lose my balance a little. But you let me regain my footing and stand on it with even more purpose then before. A "little' blip on the map of life, we survived and recovered quite quickly. If I really look back, I would say too quickly. It wasn't quite the same but I so desperately needed it to be. I overlooked issues building, smoldering, preparing to explode.
I needed to feel that safety of the firm footing on that rug. I clung to it really. I am a fighter and I keep looking for ways to fix things, people, everything. I don't believe in giving up on my children or on other people or projects. I will try everything I can think of to make it "right." Even if it means I sacrifice myself in the process.
Then Fall came. Back to school. Transitions. Sterling's birthday. The possibility of losing our precious foster baby. That rug started feeling a bit shaky. But still I try. New medications. IEP's at school for a few of my kids. Anything. Everything. We must be "normal" or at least appear to be. No one can see we are barely able to stand on that rug we cling to for stability.
Things begin to calm. But I should've known. That false sense of security, just like the calm before the storm. And just like that, EXPLOSION. Where is that rug? I can't find it. But I MUST keep my family together, at all costs. Thats what family does, they stick together. Always. Even as my 12 year old punched me in the side of the head. Even as he had my hair in his fists, violently yanking, pulling as the screams of pain came from my mouth. Even as I am looking at his eyes, once so full of love, now full of something I can't describe, now void of anything I once knew. Even as I'm swollen and sore and scared wondering what is happening to my boy, there has to be a reason. Something we can fix.
We try to fix it. With hospital stays and medication changes. We miss him. He misses us. He comes home. Only to turn around just days later, in the midst of the 3 worst dates of my life, the days Sterling died. He was doing so well. So well. And in an instant he took off running. Breaking things and hitting those of us trying to help him. Back to the hospital we go. This time broken in so many ways. That rug is gone, I fear it might be gone for good this time. December is not our friend. December now holds so much loss and pain.
When he came home this time he lasted not even 24 hours before losing it again. It was in my panic running after him watching as he headed for a major road with traffic that I knew. I knew without a doubt this isn't ok. I cannot do this. I could not keep Sterling safe, or alive because of things going on in his body that I couldn't see. But this child? This child's needs are right in front of my face. And if I choose to ignore, I may end up responsible for his death. I would never survive that, I barely survived Sterling's. In that moment when the police showed up and my son was safe, I hoped into the back of the squad car to give him information and instead the sobs came so deep I couldn't speak. Our lives are never going to be the same.
But one thing I clung so deeply to after Sterling's death is that our lives can be different. Different doesn't have to mean better or worse, its just different. I am so tired of making plans with my children only to have life laugh at me and make it something different. This life, with a dead child and a child with developmental disabilities is not what I ever, ever, imagined for myself. But I am a fighter. I will grieve what is lost and I will find the joy again one day. I promise I will.
Monday, May 23, 2016
I have never shared pictures publicly on here of Sterling or my boys and I. I guest blogged today over on the Pediatric Congenital Heart Association's page. And I shared some pictures. Head on over and check it out: conqueringchd.org/hope/
Saturday, January 2, 2016
2016
On January 2, 2013 I wrote the following as my status on Facebook:
13 months ago today my life stopped in an instant. Hopes and dreams were shattered. My life lived in an altered state for months. It's strange for me, but when I think back to December 1-3, 2011 its almost like I see myself in a movie, like I was out of my body, a witness to not just Sterling's death but my own. I have had an amazing 2012 filled with immense pain and some life experiences that brought me peace and some joy. I have begun to truly heal and to find hope again for the future. The knowledge of just how fragile life truly is at times both frightens and amazes me. I am looking forward to 2013. I have hope that Sterling's Bubbas and I will continue to find purpose and with it, healing. Always and forever <3
And now here it is 2016. We celebrated what would have been Sterling's 5th birthday in October. We survived the 4 year mark of his death. How has it been 4 years?? I have done so much in his name yet I feel like I should be doing so much more. The waves that used to come crashing over me, taking me under with them on a daily, sometimes hourly basis....they aren't so frequent anymore.
Today I feel this urgency inside me. What else can I be doing in his name? What else should I be doing? It is more then wanting to keep his memory alive, which I so desperately want to. Its more about being a part of a change I feel coming. More about being a part of something bigger. Because the things I do today are less and less about me and more and more about a bigger picture.
Our family welcomed a baby boy into our home last summer. We have no idea how long he will stay with us. It really wasn't a hard choice to make when listened to our hearts. But our heads, they took some convincing. What if we really fall in love with him, like we did with Sterling? What if we then have to hand him back to his birth family? Will we be able to survive another loss? Is it something we want to do?
The answer was there, whispered by Sterling. Would we have said no to loving him had we known the immense pain we would endure just 13 1/2 months later? Absolutely not! We would do it again and again. We are better knowing and loving Sterling then never knowing him at all. We will be better for opening our hearts to this little one as well, no matter what the outcome may be.
But that also brings me back to this feeling deep within me. I have lost myself in parenting and fostering before. Gained a lot of weight. Didn't take care of myself because I was so consumed with taking care of everyone else. I refuse to let that happen again. Its not been easy but I have continued working out. I have continued Sterling's Heart Loveys. I have continued working to help bring awareness for CHD. And I plan to do more. I need to do more.
I'm not sure what 2016 holds for me or my boys. But I am beyond grateful I am here today to find out.
13 months ago today my life stopped in an instant. Hopes and dreams were shattered. My life lived in an altered state for months. It's strange for me, but when I think back to December 1-3, 2011 its almost like I see myself in a movie, like I was out of my body, a witness to not just Sterling's death but my own. I have had an amazing 2012 filled with immense pain and some life experiences that brought me peace and some joy. I have begun to truly heal and to find hope again for the future. The knowledge of just how fragile life truly is at times both frightens and amazes me. I am looking forward to 2013. I have hope that Sterling's Bubbas and I will continue to find purpose and with it, healing. Always and forever <3
And now here it is 2016. We celebrated what would have been Sterling's 5th birthday in October. We survived the 4 year mark of his death. How has it been 4 years?? I have done so much in his name yet I feel like I should be doing so much more. The waves that used to come crashing over me, taking me under with them on a daily, sometimes hourly basis....they aren't so frequent anymore.
Today I feel this urgency inside me. What else can I be doing in his name? What else should I be doing? It is more then wanting to keep his memory alive, which I so desperately want to. Its more about being a part of a change I feel coming. More about being a part of something bigger. Because the things I do today are less and less about me and more and more about a bigger picture.
Our family welcomed a baby boy into our home last summer. We have no idea how long he will stay with us. It really wasn't a hard choice to make when listened to our hearts. But our heads, they took some convincing. What if we really fall in love with him, like we did with Sterling? What if we then have to hand him back to his birth family? Will we be able to survive another loss? Is it something we want to do?
The answer was there, whispered by Sterling. Would we have said no to loving him had we known the immense pain we would endure just 13 1/2 months later? Absolutely not! We would do it again and again. We are better knowing and loving Sterling then never knowing him at all. We will be better for opening our hearts to this little one as well, no matter what the outcome may be.
But that also brings me back to this feeling deep within me. I have lost myself in parenting and fostering before. Gained a lot of weight. Didn't take care of myself because I was so consumed with taking care of everyone else. I refuse to let that happen again. Its not been easy but I have continued working out. I have continued Sterling's Heart Loveys. I have continued working to help bring awareness for CHD. And I plan to do more. I need to do more.
I'm not sure what 2016 holds for me or my boys. But I am beyond grateful I am here today to find out.
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Above and beyond.....
When Sterling stopped breathing nearly four years ago, my oldest two boys were at school. My younger two boys were at home. While I was in the ER, standing, wondering what in the world just happened, my cell phone rang. It was the older boy's school. School had let out and they were wondering who would be picking up my boys today. I started to try to tell them, but my words couldn't come out very well throughout the tears. I believe my sister got on the phone for me. That was a Thursday. By Monday Sterling was dead. And I had to keep the Bubba's routine, I now know I needed it more then they did.
The boys' schools were both wonderful. So many offered to help with money, with time, with an ear to listen to me as I tried to make sense of the horror of what just happened. A few teachers and the principal of the bigger boy's school came to my home to sit with my autistic son so I could focus on the visitation. The bigger boy's school even had a teacher dress up as Santa and deliver presents for all of my boys. The little boys' preschool let my younger one stay a few extra times so I could talk with the pastor and make funeral arrangements. All above and beyond anything I expected from anyone.
With time, all the support dwindled. While some still would give us a surprise gift letting us know they remembered, most of the support became something I felt I needed to fight for my kids. I will advocate for them always, but it gets exhausting. Our family will never be the same. We are different now. Not better or worse, just different.
This school year my oldest two boys now go to different schools and my littles are now at the school the bigs were at. In fact my now 8 year old has some of the very teachers his big brothers had when Sterling died. They take their time with him and treat him like every other kid. They encourage him. The other day he felt so comfortable with them, he invited them to his basketball game. Guess what? They came! Totally making his day.
Sometimes our teachers don't get treated fairly. People think of them in a certain way. I don't always agree with the things that go on in my kids' school and I have no issue advocating for what is best for my kiddos. But I believe our teachers care. I have seen them go above and beyond time and time again. I know our family will never forget the kindness shown to us. My children are better students ( and people) when they know their teachers care about them. Thank you to the teachers who care about my children. Thank you.
The boys' schools were both wonderful. So many offered to help with money, with time, with an ear to listen to me as I tried to make sense of the horror of what just happened. A few teachers and the principal of the bigger boy's school came to my home to sit with my autistic son so I could focus on the visitation. The bigger boy's school even had a teacher dress up as Santa and deliver presents for all of my boys. The little boys' preschool let my younger one stay a few extra times so I could talk with the pastor and make funeral arrangements. All above and beyond anything I expected from anyone.
With time, all the support dwindled. While some still would give us a surprise gift letting us know they remembered, most of the support became something I felt I needed to fight for my kids. I will advocate for them always, but it gets exhausting. Our family will never be the same. We are different now. Not better or worse, just different.
This school year my oldest two boys now go to different schools and my littles are now at the school the bigs were at. In fact my now 8 year old has some of the very teachers his big brothers had when Sterling died. They take their time with him and treat him like every other kid. They encourage him. The other day he felt so comfortable with them, he invited them to his basketball game. Guess what? They came! Totally making his day.
Sometimes our teachers don't get treated fairly. People think of them in a certain way. I don't always agree with the things that go on in my kids' school and I have no issue advocating for what is best for my kiddos. But I believe our teachers care. I have seen them go above and beyond time and time again. I know our family will never forget the kindness shown to us. My children are better students ( and people) when they know their teachers care about them. Thank you to the teachers who care about my children. Thank you.
Monday, September 28, 2015
Grief: A Mother's Journey
I don't compete with others. Yet I am always in competition with myself. Always. I am my hardest critic. I am always feeling like I could do better. Always. And one area that really gets me is my parenting. Our family has been through a lot. And one of my children is no longer on this Earth for me to guide and watch grow. Parenting him has been the toughest job I have ever had.
I can no longer be worried about what he eats. How much he's sleeping. Where he's going to school and how well he's doing in school. No. I have to worry about wether people are forgetting him. What impact his short life will have on this world. What I should be doing to keep his memory alive and also what I should be doing in his name to help in the CHD community. Those worries keep me up some nights.
While I am worrying about my dead child's legacy, I am also raising 4 young boys who are very much alive. Who make mistakes and need guidance. 4 boys who I do need to worry about what they are eating and how much sleep they are getting. Their schooling is also a huge source of worry for me. These boys of mine are alive and here to make their own place in this world. But they need my guidance.
This is all so tiring for me. Missing my baby who would be turning 5 in a few weeks while raising his bubbas to be productive young men. Its so not easy. But I plan to keep moving forward and doing the best I can to raise the bubbas to be good men while also keeping Sterling's memory alive and helping in any way I can to raise awareness for the CHD community.
On Saturday October 3, 2015 I, along with two other grieving mothers, will have a photo showcase called Grief: A Mother's Journey. It will be at Trickster Art Gallery 190 S Roselle Rd Schaumburg, IL 7pm. We really hope to see everyone there.
I can no longer be worried about what he eats. How much he's sleeping. Where he's going to school and how well he's doing in school. No. I have to worry about wether people are forgetting him. What impact his short life will have on this world. What I should be doing to keep his memory alive and also what I should be doing in his name to help in the CHD community. Those worries keep me up some nights.
While I am worrying about my dead child's legacy, I am also raising 4 young boys who are very much alive. Who make mistakes and need guidance. 4 boys who I do need to worry about what they are eating and how much sleep they are getting. Their schooling is also a huge source of worry for me. These boys of mine are alive and here to make their own place in this world. But they need my guidance.
This is all so tiring for me. Missing my baby who would be turning 5 in a few weeks while raising his bubbas to be productive young men. Its so not easy. But I plan to keep moving forward and doing the best I can to raise the bubbas to be good men while also keeping Sterling's memory alive and helping in any way I can to raise awareness for the CHD community.
On Saturday October 3, 2015 I, along with two other grieving mothers, will have a photo showcase called Grief: A Mother's Journey. It will be at Trickster Art Gallery 190 S Roselle Rd Schaumburg, IL 7pm. We really hope to see everyone there.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Fear
"Fear in an emotion induced by a threat perceived by living entities, which causes a change in brain and organ function and ultimately a change in behavior, such as running away, hiding or freezing from traumatic events. " All my life I have let fear dictate.
I used to have a dream of working on a set. I loved the creativity of being on a set. All the people running around. The way the scenes were set up and filmed. The way it was all edited to create a movie. A movie that could bring people to tears or induce laughter, maybe even jump in fear. I wanted so much to be a part of that creativity. I didn't care about being on camera or any sort of attention, I just loved the art of it.
I also have a confession to make, I have been a member of a gym, off and on, since I was 13 years old. I loved being able to lift heavier then most of the people in the room. I loved the way I felt during and especially after a good workout. But I never stuck with it. Why?
Fear. Fear of failure kept me from my dreams of working on a set. Fear kept me from the college of my dreams that would have helped get me to a creative career I dreamed of. Fear also would take me out of the gym. I was afraid of what other people would say about me. Afraid they would tell me I didn't belong there because I didn't look the part.
Fear of rejection or failure has kept me from doing the things in life that brought me the most joy. I was never able to find a mentor in either area of my dreams who would give me a boost of support when I needed it. And so I gave up. And I gained weight.
Then Sterling died. And I felt for a while that I had nothing left to lose. For a moment in time, the fear was so profound, it kind of stopped meaning much to me. I was numb. And so I just began doing whatever I wanted to do. With phenomenal outcomes. But then I started getting comfortable again. And the fear slowly has begun creeping back.
I find myself going back into old habits. Doing things I really don't want to do because it feels "safe" and the fear of failing at anything else is so debilitating that I just would rather stay home and hide away from life. So I became very scheduled again. And comfortable in the routine. Until that routine began to be taken from me by things I had no control over.
So I have decided that fear cannot rule me. Not like this anymore. Life is so short. A gift from Sterling was seeing this. The way he used to smile and really just the joy in his eyes. The way he would grab me and kiss me and hug me. That is how life should be lived. Find the joy in the everyday. Grab life and just love it! Flaws and all!
So I am going to be doing things that may not make everyone very happy with me. But I only have this one life and I already have spent so much of it living in fear, being "safe" and the worst thing still happened. Its time to see what I can do in the time I have left. Life is too short to keep looking back with regret.
I used to have a dream of working on a set. I loved the creativity of being on a set. All the people running around. The way the scenes were set up and filmed. The way it was all edited to create a movie. A movie that could bring people to tears or induce laughter, maybe even jump in fear. I wanted so much to be a part of that creativity. I didn't care about being on camera or any sort of attention, I just loved the art of it.
I also have a confession to make, I have been a member of a gym, off and on, since I was 13 years old. I loved being able to lift heavier then most of the people in the room. I loved the way I felt during and especially after a good workout. But I never stuck with it. Why?
Fear. Fear of failure kept me from my dreams of working on a set. Fear kept me from the college of my dreams that would have helped get me to a creative career I dreamed of. Fear also would take me out of the gym. I was afraid of what other people would say about me. Afraid they would tell me I didn't belong there because I didn't look the part.
Fear of rejection or failure has kept me from doing the things in life that brought me the most joy. I was never able to find a mentor in either area of my dreams who would give me a boost of support when I needed it. And so I gave up. And I gained weight.
Then Sterling died. And I felt for a while that I had nothing left to lose. For a moment in time, the fear was so profound, it kind of stopped meaning much to me. I was numb. And so I just began doing whatever I wanted to do. With phenomenal outcomes. But then I started getting comfortable again. And the fear slowly has begun creeping back.
I find myself going back into old habits. Doing things I really don't want to do because it feels "safe" and the fear of failing at anything else is so debilitating that I just would rather stay home and hide away from life. So I became very scheduled again. And comfortable in the routine. Until that routine began to be taken from me by things I had no control over.
So I have decided that fear cannot rule me. Not like this anymore. Life is so short. A gift from Sterling was seeing this. The way he used to smile and really just the joy in his eyes. The way he would grab me and kiss me and hug me. That is how life should be lived. Find the joy in the everyday. Grab life and just love it! Flaws and all!
So I am going to be doing things that may not make everyone very happy with me. But I only have this one life and I already have spent so much of it living in fear, being "safe" and the worst thing still happened. Its time to see what I can do in the time I have left. Life is too short to keep looking back with regret.
Thursday, May 7, 2015
1,230 Days into this grief thing....
Failure. What does it mean?
"Failure is the state or condition of not meeting a desirable or intended objective, and may be viewed as the opposite of success."
But what does it mean to me? I wish I knew. Because most days I feel like I'm failing. Failing in my fitness. Failing in my career. Failing my children. Some days I just feel like I am failing at life in general.
I don't know what is going on with me right now. I just want to give up. It's hard trying to succeed when it feels like I am working against something all the time. My heart is healing, it is. But I just have moments when the grief comes crashing back to me. At this stage, it feels like it comes back even harder then before.
Is it really though? Or is it just that most days I feel so good so when the grief wave comes crashing into me, it feels like it came from nowhere? I haven't been anticipating the waves anymore. So maybe the waves aren't any stronger, but I have my back to them now, and I don't see them coming. So they crash into me and knock me over.
I have also been so busy lately. And there have been births and deaths and those things bring up so much for me. I have also put my faith in people to be there for me, only to be left feeling more alone then before. I keep telling myself life is worth it. These ups and downs are just a part of life. Don't take it so personally. But I can't help it.
This up and down and competitiveness that seems to be such a part of life, I hate it. It makes me feel like a failure. It makes me long for "something else" even when I don't really know what that "something else" is. I know true joy can only be found within. I will get back there. I know I will. Its just been really hard lately. And I feel like I am failing and am so alone in it.
"Failure is the state or condition of not meeting a desirable or intended objective, and may be viewed as the opposite of success."
But what does it mean to me? I wish I knew. Because most days I feel like I'm failing. Failing in my fitness. Failing in my career. Failing my children. Some days I just feel like I am failing at life in general.
I don't know what is going on with me right now. I just want to give up. It's hard trying to succeed when it feels like I am working against something all the time. My heart is healing, it is. But I just have moments when the grief comes crashing back to me. At this stage, it feels like it comes back even harder then before.
Is it really though? Or is it just that most days I feel so good so when the grief wave comes crashing into me, it feels like it came from nowhere? I haven't been anticipating the waves anymore. So maybe the waves aren't any stronger, but I have my back to them now, and I don't see them coming. So they crash into me and knock me over.
I have also been so busy lately. And there have been births and deaths and those things bring up so much for me. I have also put my faith in people to be there for me, only to be left feeling more alone then before. I keep telling myself life is worth it. These ups and downs are just a part of life. Don't take it so personally. But I can't help it.
This up and down and competitiveness that seems to be such a part of life, I hate it. It makes me feel like a failure. It makes me long for "something else" even when I don't really know what that "something else" is. I know true joy can only be found within. I will get back there. I know I will. Its just been really hard lately. And I feel like I am failing and am so alone in it.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Congenital Heart Legislative Conference 2015
I had the most amazing experience last week while in Washington, D.C. for the Congenital Heart Legislative Conference. I met so many wonderful people who share my passion for CHD advocacy. I was able to help out a little behind the scenes and even check in many of the participants. I learned so much and am still processing it all.
We were there to meet with our legislators and ask them to support NIH research to prevent, treat and cure CHD. For $10 million in CDC funding for data collection and public health research. And for $250 million in funding for the Department of Defense Peer Reviewed Medical Research Program. We would like them to take action by signing the Congenital Heart "Dear Colleague" letter. To join the Congressional Congenital Heart Caucus. And to submit a Congenital Heart Appropriations Request.
If you don't understand the last paragraph, no worries. I had it explained to me and still had a hard time remembering it all. The important thing to know is that this is to support funding for research and for data collection. Research to help those we know have CHD's treatment and hopefully one day a cure and to better detect those we don't know have them, like Sterling. Our kids with CHD's are becoming adults with CHD's (which is a testament to the research already done!) and there just isn't a whole lot of data out there for treating them. There also aren't very many doctors with experience in treating them. These things need to change. Supporting the above will help change that.
I was very honored to meet with our representatives and our senators and to share our stories. In my group we had 2 parents whose babies died from CHD's, one knew of the CHD and I of course did not. Then we had 3 adult CHD patients and 1 friend of a patient. I was so nervous but they helped me out and I soon discovered that our stories are powerful. Watching the staff members come out with smiles and looks of "lets get this meeting done" turn to sadness and taking the time to ask questions and really try to understand what we were asking for and why it was so important.
I came home exhausted but feeling so empowered. I will forever be grateful Sterling chose me to be his mom. I would not be who I am had he not. I would also not be where I am today had he not died. It's not always easy talking about his death, but it is so very necessary and healing knowing he is making a difference. I will continue to share until we have more research and more answers for CHD's.
We were there to meet with our legislators and ask them to support NIH research to prevent, treat and cure CHD. For $10 million in CDC funding for data collection and public health research. And for $250 million in funding for the Department of Defense Peer Reviewed Medical Research Program. We would like them to take action by signing the Congenital Heart "Dear Colleague" letter. To join the Congressional Congenital Heart Caucus. And to submit a Congenital Heart Appropriations Request.
If you don't understand the last paragraph, no worries. I had it explained to me and still had a hard time remembering it all. The important thing to know is that this is to support funding for research and for data collection. Research to help those we know have CHD's treatment and hopefully one day a cure and to better detect those we don't know have them, like Sterling. Our kids with CHD's are becoming adults with CHD's (which is a testament to the research already done!) and there just isn't a whole lot of data out there for treating them. There also aren't very many doctors with experience in treating them. These things need to change. Supporting the above will help change that.
I was very honored to meet with our representatives and our senators and to share our stories. In my group we had 2 parents whose babies died from CHD's, one knew of the CHD and I of course did not. Then we had 3 adult CHD patients and 1 friend of a patient. I was so nervous but they helped me out and I soon discovered that our stories are powerful. Watching the staff members come out with smiles and looks of "lets get this meeting done" turn to sadness and taking the time to ask questions and really try to understand what we were asking for and why it was so important.
I came home exhausted but feeling so empowered. I will forever be grateful Sterling chose me to be his mom. I would not be who I am had he not. I would also not be where I am today had he not died. It's not always easy talking about his death, but it is so very necessary and healing knowing he is making a difference. I will continue to share until we have more research and more answers for CHD's.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Healing....always
I have had one of the busiest months ever. I have felt like maybe I was drowning more then a few times. But I have made some wonderful friends in the last three years and with their support and encouragement, I have felt like I can do this. I am so grateful for them.
I went to a celebration of life 10 years later (10 years after his son's death at age 13). I wasn't sure what it would be like. I have to tell you, it was beautiful. And it reminded me of when I first met this man, the father to this boy. It was three months after Sterling had died. I was looking for someone, anyone to come along with a magic wand and tap me on my head and take away the excruciating pain I was feeling every moment of every day. I was desperate to hear some special words or something, anything to "cure" me.
I learned that day that there aren't any special words or wands or anything anyone else can do to take this pain from me. This pain was a result of the deep love I had and continue to have for my son. It was necessary. And I had to feel it, all of it, if I wanted to heal.
I will never forget his mom that day telling him to please take me under his wing because I was hurting so much and I needed his help to learn to heal. He told her and I that "this one, she has what it takes, she is going to be ok. She is going to make it." I thought he might be a little crazy. I still literally felt gutted and in physical and emotional pain. I was still secretly pleading with God to just be God and give me my son back, raise him from the dead. Turn back time. Something. Anything. Or please just let me die. And here was this man who was giving a seminar about grief and healing, telling me I was going to be ok but not really giving me step by step instructions on how I should do that.
Fast forward 3 years. I am the healthiest I have been in my adult life. I have so many wonderful, supportive friends in my life who encourage me daily to be the best me I can be. I still ache for Sterling but I am able to live again, to find joy. And I am leaving tomorrow to go to Washington D.C. to share our story with legislators to let them know how important research and data collection are.
I still have pain in the longing for my baby. I still question why us at times. I still have moments when I am sure outsiders may want to strangle me because my moods are all over the place. But I am healing. Every single day I am choosing to heal. And I believe, that is the secret. Choosing to forgive others for actions that may have contributed to his death. Choosing to go to the gym when I would rather not because I know how good I will feel when I am done. Choosing to share his story and pictures of him, even when some of those memories are painful. Because it may help others. It is all a piece to the healing puzzle.
So tonight as I tucked my boys in and tears fell from their eyes, I know going is a good thing. For all of us. It is a part of our journey. A journey I never thought I would live. But one I am going to embrace. We will all be ok, better then ok. And Sterling would be so proud.
I went to a celebration of life 10 years later (10 years after his son's death at age 13). I wasn't sure what it would be like. I have to tell you, it was beautiful. And it reminded me of when I first met this man, the father to this boy. It was three months after Sterling had died. I was looking for someone, anyone to come along with a magic wand and tap me on my head and take away the excruciating pain I was feeling every moment of every day. I was desperate to hear some special words or something, anything to "cure" me.
I learned that day that there aren't any special words or wands or anything anyone else can do to take this pain from me. This pain was a result of the deep love I had and continue to have for my son. It was necessary. And I had to feel it, all of it, if I wanted to heal.
I will never forget his mom that day telling him to please take me under his wing because I was hurting so much and I needed his help to learn to heal. He told her and I that "this one, she has what it takes, she is going to be ok. She is going to make it." I thought he might be a little crazy. I still literally felt gutted and in physical and emotional pain. I was still secretly pleading with God to just be God and give me my son back, raise him from the dead. Turn back time. Something. Anything. Or please just let me die. And here was this man who was giving a seminar about grief and healing, telling me I was going to be ok but not really giving me step by step instructions on how I should do that.
Fast forward 3 years. I am the healthiest I have been in my adult life. I have so many wonderful, supportive friends in my life who encourage me daily to be the best me I can be. I still ache for Sterling but I am able to live again, to find joy. And I am leaving tomorrow to go to Washington D.C. to share our story with legislators to let them know how important research and data collection are.
I still have pain in the longing for my baby. I still question why us at times. I still have moments when I am sure outsiders may want to strangle me because my moods are all over the place. But I am healing. Every single day I am choosing to heal. And I believe, that is the secret. Choosing to forgive others for actions that may have contributed to his death. Choosing to go to the gym when I would rather not because I know how good I will feel when I am done. Choosing to share his story and pictures of him, even when some of those memories are painful. Because it may help others. It is all a piece to the healing puzzle.
So tonight as I tucked my boys in and tears fell from their eyes, I know going is a good thing. For all of us. It is a part of our journey. A journey I never thought I would live. But one I am going to embrace. We will all be ok, better then ok. And Sterling would be so proud.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
New Year
We made it through another year. We lived more. We loved more. We learned more. We healed a little more. All the while missing our sweet boy and wondering who he would be today.
In 2014 Sterling took me to the senator of my state's office so I could tell his story. So I could show his picture and let them know that Sterling lived. He was loved. He is loved. I got to tell them how his life and death has impacted our lives. It was such an emotional thing to do. Definitely one of the highlights of my year. Sterling's story was one of many shared over the year to encourage more funding for research. And we got it.
2014 found me working out hard. I mean almost every single day. Several hours a day. I added classes that pushed me harder then I had ever been pushed. I didn't always feel like I fit in these classes. I still don't feel like I always fit in these classes. But I keep going anyway. It quiets my mind for a few hours. I'm being pushed so hard I don't have time to think about life. I don't have time to feel the sadness. And I have met some wonderful people who support and encourage my fitness goals. Working out really has become something I cannot live without.
2014 also saw huge growth in the bubbas. Both physically and emotionally. They have worked hard to understand things many adults never have to deal with. I am so very proud of them. I know Sterling would be so proud of them as well. They still talk about him all the time. Not in an obsessive way, in a way that makes it clear that they remember and love him.
My hope is that 2015 will be a continuation of the growth our family accomplished last year. I am excited to see where Sterling takes us. I am excited to see my boys continue to grow. I am learning to embrace change and to allow more people in to our lives.
In December of 2011 when I was gathering Sterling's things from the hospital and preparing to go back home without him, I remember saying to my sister that there was no way I could do this. I asked her how I was supposed to live without my baby in my arms. I told her I couldn't do it. She and the nurses told me I would take it minute to minute. Focus on breathing. They said then I would go 5 minutes, 10 minutes, an hour, several hours, then before I knew it I would be going days and weeks and months.
I didn't believe them then. I didn't believe that living was possible. Thriving was completely out of the question. There was no way I could go on while in such pain.
But they were right. The pain is just a part of me now. It doesn't control me. I miss Sterling just as much today as ever. I always wonder who he would be, who we would be had he lived. But we are living. Each day. We live. We love. We learn. And before we know it another year is over, a new one is beginning. This is life, it goes on, even when we don't want it to. I'm learning to be thankful for this.
In 2014 Sterling took me to the senator of my state's office so I could tell his story. So I could show his picture and let them know that Sterling lived. He was loved. He is loved. I got to tell them how his life and death has impacted our lives. It was such an emotional thing to do. Definitely one of the highlights of my year. Sterling's story was one of many shared over the year to encourage more funding for research. And we got it.
2014 found me working out hard. I mean almost every single day. Several hours a day. I added classes that pushed me harder then I had ever been pushed. I didn't always feel like I fit in these classes. I still don't feel like I always fit in these classes. But I keep going anyway. It quiets my mind for a few hours. I'm being pushed so hard I don't have time to think about life. I don't have time to feel the sadness. And I have met some wonderful people who support and encourage my fitness goals. Working out really has become something I cannot live without.
2014 also saw huge growth in the bubbas. Both physically and emotionally. They have worked hard to understand things many adults never have to deal with. I am so very proud of them. I know Sterling would be so proud of them as well. They still talk about him all the time. Not in an obsessive way, in a way that makes it clear that they remember and love him.
My hope is that 2015 will be a continuation of the growth our family accomplished last year. I am excited to see where Sterling takes us. I am excited to see my boys continue to grow. I am learning to embrace change and to allow more people in to our lives.
In December of 2011 when I was gathering Sterling's things from the hospital and preparing to go back home without him, I remember saying to my sister that there was no way I could do this. I asked her how I was supposed to live without my baby in my arms. I told her I couldn't do it. She and the nurses told me I would take it minute to minute. Focus on breathing. They said then I would go 5 minutes, 10 minutes, an hour, several hours, then before I knew it I would be going days and weeks and months.
I didn't believe them then. I didn't believe that living was possible. Thriving was completely out of the question. There was no way I could go on while in such pain.
But they were right. The pain is just a part of me now. It doesn't control me. I miss Sterling just as much today as ever. I always wonder who he would be, who we would be had he lived. But we are living. Each day. We live. We love. We learn. And before we know it another year is over, a new one is beginning. This is life, it goes on, even when we don't want it to. I'm learning to be thankful for this.
Thursday, December 11, 2014
December.....
This month begins with memories of the three worst days of my life. The first, second and third. The days Sterling died. Then comes the hustle and bustle of the season. Getting everything ready and just so for Christmas. I also have a son who has a birthday Christmas Eve. He will be eight this year. He has struggled the most, outwardly anyway, of all my children. He saw so much more then his brothers that day. He harbors the most anger. He is also my sweetest, most kind hearted child who, at the age of three, was watching a story about the Haitian orphans and ran to his piggy bank and told me to send them his money so they could have food and clothes and toys. He also asked me if we could adopt any of them. He had just turned three.
The year Sterling died, when I could barely function, his fifth birthday was just twenty-one days after. But we got him a cake. We sang to him. We tried so hard to celebrate his life. He smiled in the pictures. He seemed unaware that I had lost track of time and my oldest daughter had gone out and bought his cake that morning. He waited so patiently to blow out his candles. I would find out later during a nightmare and the crying that always followed what he wished for. He wished for his baby brother back. In his newly turned five year old mind, birthday wishes come true. Sterling was coming back. He was so devastated to learn that was not ever going to happen, no matter how good we are or how much we want it to happen.
This December we have been down with a the flu and strep. We have been forced to sit at home. To sleep. To relax. I thought that as we were all beginning to feel better, we should put up our tree. This child of mine, who has always delighted in this season of giving and his birthday, he begged me not to put the tree up. He became naughty. He did everything in his power to deflect from his very painful sadness that this season now brings us.
When I sat alone with him, he began to cry. He pleaded with me not to put the tree up. He had changed his mind and he didn't want Christmas this year. We talked. I told him how this time of year hurts me too. It is hard to celebrate family when such a loved piece of ours is no longer physically here to celebrate with us. But we can still love Christmas. We can still find some joy. Those things can coexist with the pain. I told my son, who is almost eight, that its ok for us to be sad. We can even feel cheated and angry. But we can't stop living. Life will keep moving forward, with or without us. And I want to be a part of it. Because as long as we are a part of it, so is Sterling. "Because he is always in our hearts...." Yes, my sweet, almost eight year old, yes.
The year Sterling died, when I could barely function, his fifth birthday was just twenty-one days after. But we got him a cake. We sang to him. We tried so hard to celebrate his life. He smiled in the pictures. He seemed unaware that I had lost track of time and my oldest daughter had gone out and bought his cake that morning. He waited so patiently to blow out his candles. I would find out later during a nightmare and the crying that always followed what he wished for. He wished for his baby brother back. In his newly turned five year old mind, birthday wishes come true. Sterling was coming back. He was so devastated to learn that was not ever going to happen, no matter how good we are or how much we want it to happen.
This December we have been down with a the flu and strep. We have been forced to sit at home. To sleep. To relax. I thought that as we were all beginning to feel better, we should put up our tree. This child of mine, who has always delighted in this season of giving and his birthday, he begged me not to put the tree up. He became naughty. He did everything in his power to deflect from his very painful sadness that this season now brings us.
When I sat alone with him, he began to cry. He pleaded with me not to put the tree up. He had changed his mind and he didn't want Christmas this year. We talked. I told him how this time of year hurts me too. It is hard to celebrate family when such a loved piece of ours is no longer physically here to celebrate with us. But we can still love Christmas. We can still find some joy. Those things can coexist with the pain. I told my son, who is almost eight, that its ok for us to be sad. We can even feel cheated and angry. But we can't stop living. Life will keep moving forward, with or without us. And I want to be a part of it. Because as long as we are a part of it, so is Sterling. "Because he is always in our hearts...." Yes, my sweet, almost eight year old, yes.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Hope....Time....Healing....
I'm trying so hard to keep finding hope with our Sterling physically here. I am. I promise. It's just hard. I guess I figured that by the time we would be just days away from the 3 year mark, it would be easier. So many people really do think that time heals all wounds. I just think that when your child dies, its a whole different kind of wound. Time is not always my friend.
This last month leading up to the days that my son died has been hard. I find myself crying more. I'm grumpier. I don't always want to be around people. I find most of the things other people stress out about to be annoying. In many ways it feels like the first months after Sterling died. But its been almost 3 years. It's harder and harder for me to find people willing to listen and not try to fix me.
I don't need fixing. I am broken. But I also know I am healing. I have been doing this grief thing for almost 3 years now. I know there are ups and downs. I am in a down moment. I just need people to remember my son. I need people to tell me that this is the worst thing that could ever happen and they are so proud of me for choosing to live and that its ok if I can't always smile and be there for them. I need people to know how exhausting this still is for me. How much energy it takes to wake up each morning and take care of my boys and to take care of myself.
I am lucky in that I do have a few of these people in my life. I know Sterling sent them to me. They listen when I talk and they tear up. When I beg for donations to the Pediatric Congenital Heart Association in his name for what should have been his fourth birthday, they go above and beyond to make sure I make the goal I set. They are the ones who see the same picture or video they have seen a dozen times of Sterling and they click the like button or they even take a second and comment. They have no idea what that means to me, or maybe they do. Either way, I am so grateful for them.
Tomorrow we will celebrate Thanksgiving. I am so thankful for my children. All of them. But it will be hard. So I am going to squeeze in a few hours of working out in a few classes by my favorite instructors. I will be pushed and I will want to stop. But I won't. And when its over I will gather my boys and we will head home to make our dinner. We will likely set Sterling's picture at the table and maybe even light a candle. The boys have been asking more again. About his life and about his death.
I miss Sterling, I always will. I will always try to live my life in such a way that makes him proud. I will never stop talking about him. I will never stop trying to save other families from knowing this pain. My heart is forever broken but healing. Time won't fix it though. My desire to heal will. Having people in my life who are willing to listen will. If you know a grieving parent or sibling, please be kind and gentle with them. They may smile and be trying to live again, but its hard. And it takes so much time, possibly a lifetime.
Sterling, you are loved and you are missed, always and forever.
This last month leading up to the days that my son died has been hard. I find myself crying more. I'm grumpier. I don't always want to be around people. I find most of the things other people stress out about to be annoying. In many ways it feels like the first months after Sterling died. But its been almost 3 years. It's harder and harder for me to find people willing to listen and not try to fix me.
I don't need fixing. I am broken. But I also know I am healing. I have been doing this grief thing for almost 3 years now. I know there are ups and downs. I am in a down moment. I just need people to remember my son. I need people to tell me that this is the worst thing that could ever happen and they are so proud of me for choosing to live and that its ok if I can't always smile and be there for them. I need people to know how exhausting this still is for me. How much energy it takes to wake up each morning and take care of my boys and to take care of myself.
I am lucky in that I do have a few of these people in my life. I know Sterling sent them to me. They listen when I talk and they tear up. When I beg for donations to the Pediatric Congenital Heart Association in his name for what should have been his fourth birthday, they go above and beyond to make sure I make the goal I set. They are the ones who see the same picture or video they have seen a dozen times of Sterling and they click the like button or they even take a second and comment. They have no idea what that means to me, or maybe they do. Either way, I am so grateful for them.
Tomorrow we will celebrate Thanksgiving. I am so thankful for my children. All of them. But it will be hard. So I am going to squeeze in a few hours of working out in a few classes by my favorite instructors. I will be pushed and I will want to stop. But I won't. And when its over I will gather my boys and we will head home to make our dinner. We will likely set Sterling's picture at the table and maybe even light a candle. The boys have been asking more again. About his life and about his death.
I miss Sterling, I always will. I will always try to live my life in such a way that makes him proud. I will never stop talking about him. I will never stop trying to save other families from knowing this pain. My heart is forever broken but healing. Time won't fix it though. My desire to heal will. Having people in my life who are willing to listen will. If you know a grieving parent or sibling, please be kind and gentle with them. They may smile and be trying to live again, but its hard. And it takes so much time, possibly a lifetime.
Sterling, you are loved and you are missed, always and forever.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Loving this time of year.....
I was at Target this weekend with my boys when we saw Christmas stuff out. I said how the time of year was always my favorite. The boys looked at me with perplexed looks on their faces. "You DO?" Was their response. And it ht me, like a slap across the face. This will be our 4th Christmas without Sterling physically here.
My boys are little. Four years is a long time. They don't really remember the holidays before. It breaks my heart. Their memories are of a sad Mommy who was on edge most of the holiday season.
I know I tried to be joyful for them. I know that each year has gotten better. But my boys, they feel my longing, they long, for a holiday with Sterling.
It is now November, a very hard month for me. A month when I can go back over pictures and see my baby's puffy eyes and hands in some pictures and wonder how I didn't see it in life? When I can look back and think that I should've pushed the doctors to do a chest x-ray. Or wonder why didn't I get a second or third or fifth opinion? And its also the last holiday we spent with Sterling, Thanksgiving. Sterling woke up on December 1st not feeling well. Sometime in the afternoon he left us. Our lives turned completely upside down.
We have worked hard at healing our broken hearts. I have decided that I am going to work even harder to take back November. After all, I got two Novembers with Sterling. That is something I can't say for any other month. We got two full Novembers with Sterling. Two Thanksgivings. It is a special month. One that should be celebrated.
December 1-3 can wait. Those will always be the worst days of my life. And I will deal with them when I get to them. Please keep our little family in your prayers, these next few months are hard for us. But we are going to find the joy in the season. We are going to remember Sterling. We are going to live.
My boys are little. Four years is a long time. They don't really remember the holidays before. It breaks my heart. Their memories are of a sad Mommy who was on edge most of the holiday season.
I know I tried to be joyful for them. I know that each year has gotten better. But my boys, they feel my longing, they long, for a holiday with Sterling.
It is now November, a very hard month for me. A month when I can go back over pictures and see my baby's puffy eyes and hands in some pictures and wonder how I didn't see it in life? When I can look back and think that I should've pushed the doctors to do a chest x-ray. Or wonder why didn't I get a second or third or fifth opinion? And its also the last holiday we spent with Sterling, Thanksgiving. Sterling woke up on December 1st not feeling well. Sometime in the afternoon he left us. Our lives turned completely upside down.
We have worked hard at healing our broken hearts. I have decided that I am going to work even harder to take back November. After all, I got two Novembers with Sterling. That is something I can't say for any other month. We got two full Novembers with Sterling. Two Thanksgivings. It is a special month. One that should be celebrated.
December 1-3 can wait. Those will always be the worst days of my life. And I will deal with them when I get to them. Please keep our little family in your prayers, these next few months are hard for us. But we are going to find the joy in the season. We are going to remember Sterling. We are going to live.
Monday, October 13, 2014
Control
I'm sure I've written about my issues with control before. I really felt like I could control so much before Sterling died. I fed him (and my other boys) organic food. I bought the safest minivan and put my kids in the best car safety seats. Sterling was still rear facing even after he turned one and that was when they were just starting to recommend that. I bought them clothes that looked a certain way. I guess I felt if I did it all the "right' way, then my boys would be safe and healthy and happy.
When Sterling was in the PICU and we were trying to figure out what happened to him, when I was in complete shock, I remember repeating over and over again how I fed him organic food, I bought the best car seat, how I never laid him down, why did I lay him down this afternoon?? I was assured over and over again whatever happened to Sterling was not in my control. But I was sure it was. Clearly I did something wrong to cause this.
Months and months of counseling and an eventual diagnosis of CHD's would tell me I was in no way responsible for Sterling's death. But I still struggled, I still struggle today from time to time. I used to think I had far more control over my life and the lives of my children. I still struggle with it. Which is why today, when I had planned such a nice little celebration for Sterling's fourth birthday, and the weather wouldn't cooperate, I was so upset.
It was my friend who told me I couldn't control it. I can't control the weather anymore then I could control that monster in Sterling's chest. That ticking time bomb just waiting to turn our lives upside down. She even said today was probably Sterling saying "when are you going to get it Mom?" It clicked again. When am I going to get it? Life is full of what ifs and if onlys.
I was starting to feel so responsible for Sterling's death again. So guilty for not seeing the signs I know had to be there. So guilty for not having more control over it all. But this rain today that ruined our plans for his birthday, I could not control it either. And while today was not at all what I had envisioned, it was ok. We still celebrated Sterling with a few friends who knew him in life. Several friends messaged me letting me know they were thinking of him and us.
I'm starting to really get it baby boy. My head and my heart. It's not ok for me to feel like I had any control in your death. If I did, you would still be here. I love and miss you sweet boy. Always and forever.
When Sterling was in the PICU and we were trying to figure out what happened to him, when I was in complete shock, I remember repeating over and over again how I fed him organic food, I bought the best car seat, how I never laid him down, why did I lay him down this afternoon?? I was assured over and over again whatever happened to Sterling was not in my control. But I was sure it was. Clearly I did something wrong to cause this.
Months and months of counseling and an eventual diagnosis of CHD's would tell me I was in no way responsible for Sterling's death. But I still struggled, I still struggle today from time to time. I used to think I had far more control over my life and the lives of my children. I still struggle with it. Which is why today, when I had planned such a nice little celebration for Sterling's fourth birthday, and the weather wouldn't cooperate, I was so upset.
It was my friend who told me I couldn't control it. I can't control the weather anymore then I could control that monster in Sterling's chest. That ticking time bomb just waiting to turn our lives upside down. She even said today was probably Sterling saying "when are you going to get it Mom?" It clicked again. When am I going to get it? Life is full of what ifs and if onlys.
I was starting to feel so responsible for Sterling's death again. So guilty for not seeing the signs I know had to be there. So guilty for not having more control over it all. But this rain today that ruined our plans for his birthday, I could not control it either. And while today was not at all what I had envisioned, it was ok. We still celebrated Sterling with a few friends who knew him in life. Several friends messaged me letting me know they were thinking of him and us.
I'm starting to really get it baby boy. My head and my heart. It's not ok for me to feel like I had any control in your death. If I did, you would still be here. I love and miss you sweet boy. Always and forever.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
So grateful for the time we had.......
This is the weekend before Sterling's 4th birthday on Monday. This is also the weekend that three of the bubbas get to go to Camp Erin. We have been excited for this to come. It will be so good for them to be around kids who know grief like they do. Where they can share Sterling without the awkward silence that comes when they tell kids that Sterling died. They are going to get to do several activities aimed at helping them heal. They also will spend two nights away from home. The only other time they have spent two nights away from me is when Sterling stopped breathing and I was in the PICU with him.
Driving in to drop off for camp there were tears. There were lots of "but Mommy, I need to sleep where you do! Can't you just come at night and sleep with us?" I kept telling them that they were going to have so much fun, they weren't going to have time to miss me. Saying goodbye and walking out that door was hard, FOR ME! They were excited and already making friends. I came home alone. With a lot of time to think. I also had several friends texting and calling asking how I was doing.
I'm sad. I have had some quiet time to think and I just feel sad. Sad that Sterling isn't here. Sad that my boys even have a reason to attend this camp. Sad that there are so many kids attending this camp because someone they love dearly has died. But so grateful it exists for them. So grateful.
Life is all about love and loss and finding our way through it all. I believe that the bubbas and I have worked hard at finding a purpose and living again. Its not easy. It can be exhausting at times. Moments when I just want to shout to the injustice of our precious boy not here to grow up with his bubbas. And I do shout it. ITS NOT FAIR!!!! He was so loved, so wanted, so adored!! We miss him. The missing is the part that never goes away.
I've talked so much about his death, the excruciating pain that we felt in the days and months after his death. Today I want to share his life with all of you. He had an amazing 13 months 2 weeks and 6 days. He truly did. He never knew anything but unconditional love. He never had his heart broken. He was never reprimanded. He only knew loving arms and loving smiles.
Sterling had begun saying several words in the last months of his life. His favorites were "Mommmmm" with the emphasis on the last mmmmm sound. Oh how I miss hearing that whenever I would leave a room. And the boom, boom, boom, of his crawl as he powered crawled to wherever I was. He loved watching his brothers play and called them "bubbas" he would also say "baba" for bottle and sometimes these would be confused by me. He would never turn down a bottle though, so all was good! He loved his food! He had just learned how to say one of his bubbas names. They joy that brought my oldest son! "He said MY name first!" The other boys were then on a mission to teach Sterling to say their names as well. He adored that attention! He was sooooo close to taking his first, unassisted steps. he would cruise the furniture like a pro though.
On this day three years ago we went into Chicago to the airport. The boys loved watching the planes take off and land. Sterling was in my arms when a huge plane flew right over our heads as it was landing. Sterling startled at first and then said "Whoaaaaaa" as he pointed to the plane and snuggled into my chest. If you ever watched Blossom and remember Joey's "Whoaaa" that's how Sterling did it. We had so much fun. He was becoming a little boy. He was so brave, so friendly, just as long as he was in my arms.
Sterling was loved in life. He is loved in death. Sterling will be missed and loved and talked about always. We can be sad he isn't here. We can remember his life. But we will never pretend that its ok that he died. We can come to terms with him not being here. We can live again. We can, and have, made new lives for ourselves. But we will never pretend that we are ok with him not being here. Ever. That means we will have sad days. We will have joyful days. We are healing. I think we will be healing for the rest of our lives.
When you love someone so much, that love doesn't ever go away. It changes over time, but it never goes away. When someone you love dies, that love grows and changes as well.
I still can't believe that 4 years ago this beautiful little soul made his entrance into this world. I can't believe its almost been 3 years that he left it. Always and forever sweet boy.
Driving in to drop off for camp there were tears. There were lots of "but Mommy, I need to sleep where you do! Can't you just come at night and sleep with us?" I kept telling them that they were going to have so much fun, they weren't going to have time to miss me. Saying goodbye and walking out that door was hard, FOR ME! They were excited and already making friends. I came home alone. With a lot of time to think. I also had several friends texting and calling asking how I was doing.
I'm sad. I have had some quiet time to think and I just feel sad. Sad that Sterling isn't here. Sad that my boys even have a reason to attend this camp. Sad that there are so many kids attending this camp because someone they love dearly has died. But so grateful it exists for them. So grateful.
Life is all about love and loss and finding our way through it all. I believe that the bubbas and I have worked hard at finding a purpose and living again. Its not easy. It can be exhausting at times. Moments when I just want to shout to the injustice of our precious boy not here to grow up with his bubbas. And I do shout it. ITS NOT FAIR!!!! He was so loved, so wanted, so adored!! We miss him. The missing is the part that never goes away.
I've talked so much about his death, the excruciating pain that we felt in the days and months after his death. Today I want to share his life with all of you. He had an amazing 13 months 2 weeks and 6 days. He truly did. He never knew anything but unconditional love. He never had his heart broken. He was never reprimanded. He only knew loving arms and loving smiles.
Sterling had begun saying several words in the last months of his life. His favorites were "Mommmmm" with the emphasis on the last mmmmm sound. Oh how I miss hearing that whenever I would leave a room. And the boom, boom, boom, of his crawl as he powered crawled to wherever I was. He loved watching his brothers play and called them "bubbas" he would also say "baba" for bottle and sometimes these would be confused by me. He would never turn down a bottle though, so all was good! He loved his food! He had just learned how to say one of his bubbas names. They joy that brought my oldest son! "He said MY name first!" The other boys were then on a mission to teach Sterling to say their names as well. He adored that attention! He was sooooo close to taking his first, unassisted steps. he would cruise the furniture like a pro though.
On this day three years ago we went into Chicago to the airport. The boys loved watching the planes take off and land. Sterling was in my arms when a huge plane flew right over our heads as it was landing. Sterling startled at first and then said "Whoaaaaaa" as he pointed to the plane and snuggled into my chest. If you ever watched Blossom and remember Joey's "Whoaaa" that's how Sterling did it. We had so much fun. He was becoming a little boy. He was so brave, so friendly, just as long as he was in my arms.
Sterling was loved in life. He is loved in death. Sterling will be missed and loved and talked about always. We can be sad he isn't here. We can remember his life. But we will never pretend that its ok that he died. We can come to terms with him not being here. We can live again. We can, and have, made new lives for ourselves. But we will never pretend that we are ok with him not being here. Ever. That means we will have sad days. We will have joyful days. We are healing. I think we will be healing for the rest of our lives.
When you love someone so much, that love doesn't ever go away. It changes over time, but it never goes away. When someone you love dies, that love grows and changes as well.
I still can't believe that 4 years ago this beautiful little soul made his entrance into this world. I can't believe its almost been 3 years that he left it. Always and forever sweet boy.
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