Today has been a no good rotten day. Actually, this whole week has been rotten. Not at home, but at work. I have a job I truly enjoy but as with all things you pour a lot of yourself into....it can be stressful. It can hurt. It can cause you to want to throw your hands in the air and walk away from it all.
Lately, I have been thinking about my first moments with Curtis. Not when I was pregnant with him, but right after the nurse laid him on my chest after he was born. He was so quiet. So still. His eyes were closed...and I was scared of him. I was so scared of his little, still body, a body I had felt move at one point but now....was still.
Basically, I had poured myself into this pregnancy and him and when it got hard, I walked away from it all.
Just for a moment. Just for a moment. I swear, it was just for a moment. But the guilt of what I felt in those moments, being scared of him, eats me up more than any of my other regrets. The nurse took him away and cleaned him up. He came back all wrapped up, cozy, like any newborn baby. I held him. I shared him. I had to make the decision to eventually say goodbye to his little body and never, ever, ever hold him again.
These moments have been looping in my mind lately. I don't know why. I don't know why four and a half years later I can't forgive myself of being scared of him. Being scared of what was ahead. Sometimes it still feels like too much. And I want to throw my hands in the air, and walk away. But I can't. Because, like all things we truly enjoy and all things that are worth pouring ourselves into....there are moments where you know it is completely worth it.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Funeral Clothes.
I went through my closet recently, pulling out stuff to donate. Stuff that doesn't fit. Stuff I don't wear anymore.... I tend to hang on to things for sentimental reasons. There is the dress I wore to our rehearsal dinner. There is the pair of jeans I wore on our first date. (After 4 pregnancies, 3 kids, 4 surgeries two of which were csections and gaining and losing weight over and over again I will NEVER fit into again). Then there is the long flowy skirt and brown sweater top I wore to Curtis' funeral. I remember, very clearly, standing in the dressing room at JC Penny's trying it on. It was 3 days after I have given birth. I was all post partum. Still looked 6 months pregnant. I had nothing that fit. The skirt had an elastic waist. The top fit. I cried in the dressing room. This was not how I had expected the third day after giving birth to go. I wanted to be dressing and changing my baby boy. Not picking out clothes for his funeral.
But, I did. And, a mere 10 days later, I had to wear those clothes again to another funeral of a life that was taken way to suddenly.
So, since those two funerals those clothes had sat in my closet. Why? I don't know. I have cleaned out my closet numerous times since. Those clothes are too big for me now. I don't even like them that much. I bought them out of necessity. But I have hung on to them. Because they are a part of a memory. They are part of my journey through losing Curtis. So, there they sat.
I stared at them. I took them off the hanger. I am not attached to them. But they are a symbol, a symbol of a part of my life that is all too important.
But they are just clothes. Just clothes I wore, on two really really hard days. Clothes I picked out to say goodbye to my son. Clothes I wore when I stood up in front of friends and family and said 'Don't feel too sorry for us. We got to meet and hold our son.'
I added those clothes to my donation pile. It is weird to do so after looking at them for the last 4 and a half years, just hanging off to the side. But it is okay. They are just clothes.
Right? Then why did it feel so weird?
I went through my closet recently, pulling out stuff to donate. Stuff that doesn't fit. Stuff I don't wear anymore.... I tend to hang on to things for sentimental reasons. There is the dress I wore to our rehearsal dinner. There is the pair of jeans I wore on our first date. (After 4 pregnancies, 3 kids, 4 surgeries two of which were csections and gaining and losing weight over and over again I will NEVER fit into again). Then there is the long flowy skirt and brown sweater top I wore to Curtis' funeral. I remember, very clearly, standing in the dressing room at JC Penny's trying it on. It was 3 days after I have given birth. I was all post partum. Still looked 6 months pregnant. I had nothing that fit. The skirt had an elastic waist. The top fit. I cried in the dressing room. This was not how I had expected the third day after giving birth to go. I wanted to be dressing and changing my baby boy. Not picking out clothes for his funeral.
But, I did. And, a mere 10 days later, I had to wear those clothes again to another funeral of a life that was taken way to suddenly.
So, since those two funerals those clothes had sat in my closet. Why? I don't know. I have cleaned out my closet numerous times since. Those clothes are too big for me now. I don't even like them that much. I bought them out of necessity. But I have hung on to them. Because they are a part of a memory. They are part of my journey through losing Curtis. So, there they sat.
I stared at them. I took them off the hanger. I am not attached to them. But they are a symbol, a symbol of a part of my life that is all too important.
But they are just clothes. Just clothes I wore, on two really really hard days. Clothes I picked out to say goodbye to my son. Clothes I wore when I stood up in front of friends and family and said 'Don't feel too sorry for us. We got to meet and hold our son.'
I added those clothes to my donation pile. It is weird to do so after looking at them for the last 4 and a half years, just hanging off to the side. But it is okay. They are just clothes.
Right? Then why did it feel so weird?
Saturday, January 8, 2011
The random things hit, the things that I had forgotten about and come rushing back.
I was in Target the other day, their Christmas stuff had hit 90% off and I was digging for any treasure I could find to put away for next year. I found a cute shirt for me, a wreathe hanger....and all of a sudden I flashed back to January 2006.
Craig and I went to Target and I found the clearance stuff. 90% off Christmas stuff. There was a stack of baby Christmas stuff. Christmas Pooh bear bibs, some little Christmas socks, Christmas onesies. Some made for girls, some made for boys. I told Craig I would buy some if I knew what the baby was. He laughed and told me for 90% off, I should just buy it. The most we would be out was ninety cents and who cared about that? I threw it all in the cart. Stuff we weren't even sure would fit. We couldn't predict how big our June baby would be come that December. But, for 90% off, who cared!
I had forgot about that shopping trip five years later. I even forgot about it half way through my digging through the 90% off rack this year....and then all of a sudden the memories came flooding back. I remember being SO giddy buying that stuff for him (we didn't know it was 'him' yet...we would find out that two weeks later.).
I suppose some things never change...I still get giddy buying stuff for my kids, even more so if it is a great deal. It is interesting how a memory like that can come out of nowhere. It doesn't knock me flat out like it may have in the past, but it is still sharp enough that it hurt for a minute to take a deep breath.
I was in Target the other day, their Christmas stuff had hit 90% off and I was digging for any treasure I could find to put away for next year. I found a cute shirt for me, a wreathe hanger....and all of a sudden I flashed back to January 2006.
Craig and I went to Target and I found the clearance stuff. 90% off Christmas stuff. There was a stack of baby Christmas stuff. Christmas Pooh bear bibs, some little Christmas socks, Christmas onesies. Some made for girls, some made for boys. I told Craig I would buy some if I knew what the baby was. He laughed and told me for 90% off, I should just buy it. The most we would be out was ninety cents and who cared about that? I threw it all in the cart. Stuff we weren't even sure would fit. We couldn't predict how big our June baby would be come that December. But, for 90% off, who cared!
I had forgot about that shopping trip five years later. I even forgot about it half way through my digging through the 90% off rack this year....and then all of a sudden the memories came flooding back. I remember being SO giddy buying that stuff for him (we didn't know it was 'him' yet...we would find out that two weeks later.).
I suppose some things never change...I still get giddy buying stuff for my kids, even more so if it is a great deal. It is interesting how a memory like that can come out of nowhere. It doesn't knock me flat out like it may have in the past, but it is still sharp enough that it hurt for a minute to take a deep breath.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
A friend posted this on her FB today:
"I'm going to get out of bed every morning, breath in and out all day long, and after awhile I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed in the morning and breath in and out. And, then after awhile I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for awhile...." ~Sleepless In Seattle (when asked what he... was going to do after loss)
And, I am loving this quote by the wonderful Elizabeth Edwards, who lost her son Wade when he was just 16.
"If you know someone who has lost a child or lost anybody who's important to them, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died, they didn't forget they died. You're not reminding them. What you're reminding them of is that you remember that they lived, and that's a great, great gift.'"
Just wanted to share.
"I'm going to get out of bed every morning, breath in and out all day long, and after awhile I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed in the morning and breath in and out. And, then after awhile I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for awhile...." ~Sleepless In Seattle (when asked what he... was going to do after loss)
And, I am loving this quote by the wonderful Elizabeth Edwards, who lost her son Wade when he was just 16.
"If you know someone who has lost a child or lost anybody who's important to them, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died, they didn't forget they died. You're not reminding them. What you're reminding them of is that you remember that they lived, and that's a great, great gift.'"
Just wanted to share.
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