On Craig's side of the family there is this weird "gap" that I can't shake every time everyone is together.
One of Craig's brothers has 2 girls, very close in age. They are 8 and 7.
The next child, from another brother is a boy, who is 3.
Then there is our daughter, and another baby, a girl, 9 months younger than her.
Can you see it? Can you see that gap? 2 girls, close in age, sisters even...and playmates. Then there is our daughter, and the newest baby in the family. Bound to grow up and be playmates. Both girls, only 9 months apart.
But, look. Look at the lone boy there. Right in the middle. Age 3. No boys to play with. No one similar in age. But there should be. Curtis should be smack dab in the middle with him. It just makes me sick every time we are together and he is chasing after the older girls, trying to get them to play. Or trying to play with our daughter, who is much too young to be anything but confused by his approaches.
When we announced we were pregnant with Curtis, my mother in law went on and on how wonderful it would be for the two of them to have each other.
That, obviously, didn't happen.
When my sister in law got pregnant with her daughter, my mother in law went on and on about how wonderful it would be for the two girls to have each other.
That did happen.
But that gap, it makes me ache.
On my side, we don't have that gap. My brother has 4 kids, and the youngest would have been about 2 years older than Curtis. So they would have been close and would have played together I am sure... But there isn't that obvious gender and age segregation.
Times like this, where family gatherings happen quite often (heck, on Craig's side they happen a ton normally) it is just hard. It is hard to listen to people say how great it is our daughter has a cousin so close in age. It is hard to watch my nephew play by himself. It is hard not to picture a little blond boy toddling behind him...
It is hard not to be angry and bitter. And angry some more.
I am in an angry place today.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Today we attended my sister in law mom's funeral. I was talking to my brother in law about how I had never been touched by death until we lost Curtis.
I lost my grandpa when I was 3, so I don't remember that. And then....nothing. There was a high shool classmate who died when we were 16 or 17. We had been sort of friends in junior high and drifted apart in high school. I am a bit ashamed to say her death didn't register much on my radar, though I did feel bad about the situation (she had been sick) at the time. There was a pen pal of mine who died in a tragic accident when I was in high school as well. But, once again, I was removed enough from her that the death didn't alter my daily world. And until death changes your day to day exsistance, it is hard to say it effected you on a deep level.
Curtis was my first real taste of how unfair and cruel life can be. He was the first person taken from me. Of course, with Curtis' death came all kinds of things. His delivery. Only ever holding him dead. Other people not realizing how real he was (because he was never real to them).
Curtis' death changed my day to day world. In a way, I am still waiting for things to get back to normal.
Sitting at the funeral today I ached for the people whose day to day lives have been rocked to the core. I know how painful it all is and how they will never be the same. How they will wait and hope for the day where the pain goes away, and it won't. They will learn to live with it, they will learn to live with the new normal, but they will still wish for the day to come that things will be normal again.
I miss him, I miss everything I never had with him. I will continue to wait. Wait to feel whole, wait to get back to normal. Just like the family who lost their mom. They wait. I wait.
For something that will never come. Because death forever changes everything.
I lost my grandpa when I was 3, so I don't remember that. And then....nothing. There was a high shool classmate who died when we were 16 or 17. We had been sort of friends in junior high and drifted apart in high school. I am a bit ashamed to say her death didn't register much on my radar, though I did feel bad about the situation (she had been sick) at the time. There was a pen pal of mine who died in a tragic accident when I was in high school as well. But, once again, I was removed enough from her that the death didn't alter my daily world. And until death changes your day to day exsistance, it is hard to say it effected you on a deep level.
Curtis was my first real taste of how unfair and cruel life can be. He was the first person taken from me. Of course, with Curtis' death came all kinds of things. His delivery. Only ever holding him dead. Other people not realizing how real he was (because he was never real to them).
Curtis' death changed my day to day world. In a way, I am still waiting for things to get back to normal.
Sitting at the funeral today I ached for the people whose day to day lives have been rocked to the core. I know how painful it all is and how they will never be the same. How they will wait and hope for the day where the pain goes away, and it won't. They will learn to live with it, they will learn to live with the new normal, but they will still wish for the day to come that things will be normal again.
I miss him, I miss everything I never had with him. I will continue to wait. Wait to feel whole, wait to get back to normal. Just like the family who lost their mom. They wait. I wait.
For something that will never come. Because death forever changes everything.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
So, I am back. Her birthday is over and it was a huge, and I do mean HUGE success. The days leading up to it, I was teary and sad and happy and overwhelmed. But the day of her birthday and the day of her party I was happy. The end of her party, my mom hugged me and said she was sorry I didn't get to do this for Curtis was the only time I cried that day.
I know some people probably think I went "all out" for her party because of losing Curtis. Which isn't true. I went all out, because that is what I do. I love this kind of stuff. I loved celebrating her birthday. It is such a big deal. It was her first one! I know she won't remember, but pictures will tell her the story, and I will remember. I did it because it was fun for me.
(And all out really isn't that much. Cute, printed invitations, a rented party room -which was only $15 an hour so not expensive- some cute napkins to match her theme, some balloons, pizzas and cupcakes... but to some people this is "all out.")
Sadly, my poor sis-in-law got a phone call during the party that her mom had passed out suddenly and to come quick. She left without a scene and I had no idea that she and my brother in law were even gone until much later. My aches for her, as she lost her mom unexpectedly that day. And I am honored she is my family because she didn't want to cause a scene and trump our long awaited party.
There is a little girl from Minnesota who suffered a traumtic accident in a pool. I won't go into the details, but she fought, hard, for her life and passed away about 9 months later. Her parents have 3 other little girls. I saw an interview with them recently and they said "We will never say we have 3 girls. We have 4. One is just waiting for us." I loved that this was broadcast. I loved that they said this. So often people get uncomfortable when they ask how many kids I have and I say 2. One who passed away who would be two and a half and a daughter who is one. I do not say it to make them uncomfortable. I say it because it makes me comfortable. I cannot live with myself if I do not acknowledge all of my children.
I know I am jumping trains of thought...but I do have a point. By mentioning Curtis the day of her birthday party, my mom with her simple comment included my son. My sister in law, with her quiet leaving of the party let us shine for a moment. That is all I could have asked for that day, our daughter to have the spotlight, and our son remembered. We have two children. Equally loved.
I know some people probably think I went "all out" for her party because of losing Curtis. Which isn't true. I went all out, because that is what I do. I love this kind of stuff. I loved celebrating her birthday. It is such a big deal. It was her first one! I know she won't remember, but pictures will tell her the story, and I will remember. I did it because it was fun for me.
(And all out really isn't that much. Cute, printed invitations, a rented party room -which was only $15 an hour so not expensive- some cute napkins to match her theme, some balloons, pizzas and cupcakes... but to some people this is "all out.")
Sadly, my poor sis-in-law got a phone call during the party that her mom had passed out suddenly and to come quick. She left without a scene and I had no idea that she and my brother in law were even gone until much later. My aches for her, as she lost her mom unexpectedly that day. And I am honored she is my family because she didn't want to cause a scene and trump our long awaited party.
There is a little girl from Minnesota who suffered a traumtic accident in a pool. I won't go into the details, but she fought, hard, for her life and passed away about 9 months later. Her parents have 3 other little girls. I saw an interview with them recently and they said "We will never say we have 3 girls. We have 4. One is just waiting for us." I loved that this was broadcast. I loved that they said this. So often people get uncomfortable when they ask how many kids I have and I say 2. One who passed away who would be two and a half and a daughter who is one. I do not say it to make them uncomfortable. I say it because it makes me comfortable. I cannot live with myself if I do not acknowledge all of my children.
I know I am jumping trains of thought...but I do have a point. By mentioning Curtis the day of her birthday party, my mom with her simple comment included my son. My sister in law, with her quiet leaving of the party let us shine for a moment. That is all I could have asked for that day, our daughter to have the spotlight, and our son remembered. We have two children. Equally loved.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Our Story: Part 17
Spreading his ashes
Spreading his ashes
On August 19th 2006 it was a weekend day and Craig and I were out to lunch. It was a beautiful day and we had no plans.
We had been planning on taking Curtis' ashes a few hours north to Craig's family cabin but hadn't done it yet. We wanted to be alone up there when we did it. We knew no family was up there that weekend.
"Do you think it is as nice at the cabin as it here?" I asked, fiddling with my napkin.
"Should we go?"
We didn't even discuss what we were going to do. We just knew. We drove home, got the dog, got his urn and a screwdriver to open the bottom of the urn. At the last minute, I grabbed my camera.
The drive up was quiet. Craig kept saying he was trying to think up ways to make the trip up there fun. To make idle chit chat, or something. But it wasn't any of that. It was a somber time. Craig, me, the dog, and an urn full of ashes. I kept fighting tears back at the prospect of what would happen. I would be touching Curtis again. I was going to be opening that urn and had no idea what would greet me under that metal plate.
We got to the cabin around 4pm. It was crystal clear and calm. Bright blue sky with puffy clouds. We walked down to the dock and sat at the end of it, the dog sniffing around, the urn between us.
At this point, we started taking pictures. I took pictures of his urn looking out towards the water:
We took turns posing with the urn. Smiles on our faces. I look at the photos and I do see true smiles. We were not faking it, we were smiling. We took pictures of the beautiful lake, the calm water.
We laid on the end of the dock, set the self timer and took this photo of the 3 of us. (What is funny was the dog was in this photo too, but she wouldn't sit still and I am actually pushing her down so she wouldn't ruin the photo. It was one of the silly moments of the day I will always remember.)
We eventually stopped taking photos and looked at each other. "Should we start?" I asked Craig. He nodded.
I unscrewed the 4 screws holding my son's ashes in and pulled out a clear plastic bag with our last name in black marker across it. I ran my hands over and and gently opened the bag. I reached my hand in and touched the ashes.
When I had thought about ashes in the past, I thought cigarrette ashes. I thought campfire ashes. I wasn't prepared for coarse sand feeling. I wasn't prepared for fragments of bones. I ran the ashes through my hands.
I was touching the only physical remainder of my son.
Intermixed with the ashes was a round, metal circle. I stared at it for awhile, trying to figure out what part of the body it was from. It came to me slowly that it was the snap from his onesie he was wearing in the hospital. The one that said "Thank Heaven for Little Boys." I put it back in the bag when I realized what it was. Up until that point I had secretly wondered if this was really him. But it was. The metal circle from his snap sealed any doubt I had.
There was more ashes than I had expected. We had only been planning on spreading a tiny amount, but we knew we would have enough to take home so we spread a decent amount of them.
Standing at the end of the dock, I looked down to see fishes swimming by. It hit me that I couldn't sprinkle the ashes from the end of the dock because the fish would think they were food. "I don't want the fish to eat Curtis," I tried to joke.
We went to the shoreline instead.
I did the first sprinkle of ashes, then I gave the bag over to Craig. I know you can't see it, but I know where the ashes are in this picture.
After Craig spread some, it was my turn. As the ashes hit the water, Craig took this picture with the light bouncing off of the water...
We both took turns again and all of a sudden I said I had enough, I needed the rest to come home with us. We sat on the shoreline, cried together, and talked to Curtis. We told him how much we missed him, how much we ached for the life he never got to live. We stared at the water for awhile and I told him how sorry I was that I didn't get to bring him home with us. Eventually we packed ourselves and the dog up and made the quiet 3 hour ride home with less ashes than we came with, but left a piece of Curtis at a place that is so special to our family. A place we needed to share with Curtis, on whatever form it took.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
In case you haven't noticed, I am avoiding the Our Story entries.
There is a variety of reasons for it. The main two reasons are as follows...
1) The next entry is about the day we spread his ashes. It is a day that has been shared with very few people. We took pictures and shared those....but the emotions of that day are something only Craig and I know and feel. I have been wanting to write about that day for, well, years. Everytime I start, I get major writer's block and end up writing something like "We spread his ashes. We cried. The End." Not exactly the emotions I want to convey.
2) We are approaching, rapidly, my daughter's 1st birthday. I am so stinkin' happy I have a birthday party to plan. I have given way too much thought to this party (and money. Even though it is just close friends and family I seem to be on a spending spree.). I am thrilled to have a daughter to plan this stuff for, no doubt about that. But, even happiness gets confusing. Had Curtis been born alive and we had been able to have a first birthday party for him I doubt I would have been THIS excited. Sure, it would have been fun, but I am practically bursting about this. So, guilt gets thrown in the mix. I try to convince myself I would have been THIS excited for his birthday, but I know I wouldn't have. I would have taken a first birthday for granted. I mean, when you are 40 weeks pregnant, it is a given you will celebrate a first birthday. But because it is _not_ a given to me anymore I have become THIS excited. (Yeah, I am talking in circles).
So, I have been avoiding my blog. Been avoiding talking about Curtis. Because I just want to focus on the happiness and ignore the guilt and anger and more guilt I feel.
I have a feeling, the night of her birthday party I am going collapse in a mix of utter happiness and sheer grief.
There is a variety of reasons for it. The main two reasons are as follows...
1) The next entry is about the day we spread his ashes. It is a day that has been shared with very few people. We took pictures and shared those....but the emotions of that day are something only Craig and I know and feel. I have been wanting to write about that day for, well, years. Everytime I start, I get major writer's block and end up writing something like "We spread his ashes. We cried. The End." Not exactly the emotions I want to convey.
2) We are approaching, rapidly, my daughter's 1st birthday. I am so stinkin' happy I have a birthday party to plan. I have given way too much thought to this party (and money. Even though it is just close friends and family I seem to be on a spending spree.). I am thrilled to have a daughter to plan this stuff for, no doubt about that. But, even happiness gets confusing. Had Curtis been born alive and we had been able to have a first birthday party for him I doubt I would have been THIS excited. Sure, it would have been fun, but I am practically bursting about this. So, guilt gets thrown in the mix. I try to convince myself I would have been THIS excited for his birthday, but I know I wouldn't have. I would have taken a first birthday for granted. I mean, when you are 40 weeks pregnant, it is a given you will celebrate a first birthday. But because it is _not_ a given to me anymore I have become THIS excited. (Yeah, I am talking in circles).
So, I have been avoiding my blog. Been avoiding talking about Curtis. Because I just want to focus on the happiness and ignore the guilt and anger and more guilt I feel.
I have a feeling, the night of her birthday party I am going collapse in a mix of utter happiness and sheer grief.
Friday, October 24, 2008
You know...I just am really missing him all of a sudden tonight. I am working with a young boy who is roughly the same age Curtis would be and it is odd to have a reminder day in and day out "this is how big he would be. This would be the things he would be doing." Because Curtis is forever a newborn to me. He is forever a little baby. So a physical reminder is odd. It isn't horrid or anything, it isn't even sad....it is just so many "what if"s and what "should be"s....I think these would have been the holidays he would have really "gotten" it. I think this would have been the Halloween he would have been running to the doors to say "TwickorTweat". There is always this hole in our lives of the way it should be. Quite frankly, sometimes it sucks worse than others.
I struggle with my Faith in all of this, that is a different post for a different day. I know some people feel this is the way my life was suppose to go. That this all happened for a reason...and I don't really believe that. Because while I can point out 101 wonderful things that happened in the wake of his death I never believe that is WHY he died...but, taking me out of the equation: why was HIS life taken? Why was he given such a brief time? Why did he have to suffer and die inside of me as his life source got cut off? What reason is good enough that he didn't get to life his life? What did he have to "learn"? He was a tiny baby who needed his mommy and daddy. The one time he needed me, I couldn't save him. Even though I had the tools to do so. It wasn't on purpose and I know that. That is what gets me through the day....
Yes, I have a lot of unresolved guilt and I know I always will.
Ugh, I don't even know where I am going with this post. Some days I have great perspective on everything we lost and moving through it all and other days or moments, I don't.
Tonight; I am sad for everything he missed. His first ice cream cone. His first baseball game. Pumpkin patch trips. Getting the present you wanted SO BADLY for Christmas. First kisses. First concerts. First dates. Getting a new puppy... all of the things that make life so much fun.
I am sad for him he didn't get any of this. I am sad for us, but right now, I am more sad for him.
I struggle with my Faith in all of this, that is a different post for a different day. I know some people feel this is the way my life was suppose to go. That this all happened for a reason...and I don't really believe that. Because while I can point out 101 wonderful things that happened in the wake of his death I never believe that is WHY he died...but, taking me out of the equation: why was HIS life taken? Why was he given such a brief time? Why did he have to suffer and die inside of me as his life source got cut off? What reason is good enough that he didn't get to life his life? What did he have to "learn"? He was a tiny baby who needed his mommy and daddy. The one time he needed me, I couldn't save him. Even though I had the tools to do so. It wasn't on purpose and I know that. That is what gets me through the day....
Yes, I have a lot of unresolved guilt and I know I always will.
Ugh, I don't even know where I am going with this post. Some days I have great perspective on everything we lost and moving through it all and other days or moments, I don't.
Tonight; I am sad for everything he missed. His first ice cream cone. His first baseball game. Pumpkin patch trips. Getting the present you wanted SO BADLY for Christmas. First kisses. First concerts. First dates. Getting a new puppy... all of the things that make life so much fun.
I am sad for him he didn't get any of this. I am sad for us, but right now, I am more sad for him.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Deviation post :)
We are winding down our "happy year". Craig likes to say "2006 was our sad year. 2007 was our anxiety filled year and 2008 is our happy year."
He would say this when anyone would inquire when I was going to get pregnant again, when I was "going to give Claudia a sibling". That comment is beyond rude, by the way. She has a sibling. Not in the traditional sense, of course. But to us: she has a sibling. Yes, she is raised as an "only" right now, but to us, she forever has a sibling. I remember when our day care provider said something to me about Claudia acting like a 'typical first born' that comment was like a knife in my stomach. Twisted. Twice. Just because, for me, she wasn't a first born. I gave birth twice. I know she doesn't realize this....and I don't hold any ill will about it, it is just one of those comments that leaves me shaking. Because...well, because she isn't a first born. And it is sad she acts like a first born.
Ha, okay, Sorry for the tangent.
So, this year is winding down, Halloween is in a few weeks and that is the last big "holiday" that is a first for us. Then in November, it is her birthday. Which, of course, is huge.
I have so many reflections on the first year of her life that I will save after her first birthday. And I do know that our 'happy year' isn't going anywhere. It will continue. It is more...normal now. Each holiday will still be special. Sure, it is not the first we have celebrated with her, but regardless in a child's eyes each year is new, each year is fun.
Last Sunday, we went to a remembrance service at the hospital where I had Curtis. It was a nice service, I got up and read a few of my writings about him and her. I am too lazy to link it up right now, but they have been posted on here. It always catches me off guard how much I still ache. I guess because life has continued, the pain is always there but more constant dull ache as opposed to the sharp, hard to breathe, moments of the past. So standing up in front of everyone, reading something about him, it may as well have been June of 2006 when I couldn't even function.
So, while 2008 really has been a happy year, we have so much to be happy for and nothing can ever erase the joy we have felt. And nothing can erase the pain we have felt. I am seeing, more and more, how those two go hand in hand for us. They always will. You cannot celebrate her without remembering him. The two are forever linked. Our family will never be together as it should be. In celebrating with her, we have to remember and grieve him. That is just the way our family is now.
We are winding down our "happy year". Craig likes to say "2006 was our sad year. 2007 was our anxiety filled year and 2008 is our happy year."
He would say this when anyone would inquire when I was going to get pregnant again, when I was "going to give Claudia a sibling". That comment is beyond rude, by the way. She has a sibling. Not in the traditional sense, of course. But to us: she has a sibling. Yes, she is raised as an "only" right now, but to us, she forever has a sibling. I remember when our day care provider said something to me about Claudia acting like a 'typical first born' that comment was like a knife in my stomach. Twisted. Twice. Just because, for me, she wasn't a first born. I gave birth twice. I know she doesn't realize this....and I don't hold any ill will about it, it is just one of those comments that leaves me shaking. Because...well, because she isn't a first born. And it is sad she acts like a first born.
Ha, okay, Sorry for the tangent.
So, this year is winding down, Halloween is in a few weeks and that is the last big "holiday" that is a first for us. Then in November, it is her birthday. Which, of course, is huge.
I have so many reflections on the first year of her life that I will save after her first birthday. And I do know that our 'happy year' isn't going anywhere. It will continue. It is more...normal now. Each holiday will still be special. Sure, it is not the first we have celebrated with her, but regardless in a child's eyes each year is new, each year is fun.
Last Sunday, we went to a remembrance service at the hospital where I had Curtis. It was a nice service, I got up and read a few of my writings about him and her. I am too lazy to link it up right now, but they have been posted on here. It always catches me off guard how much I still ache. I guess because life has continued, the pain is always there but more constant dull ache as opposed to the sharp, hard to breathe, moments of the past. So standing up in front of everyone, reading something about him, it may as well have been June of 2006 when I couldn't even function.
So, while 2008 really has been a happy year, we have so much to be happy for and nothing can ever erase the joy we have felt. And nothing can erase the pain we have felt. I am seeing, more and more, how those two go hand in hand for us. They always will. You cannot celebrate her without remembering him. The two are forever linked. Our family will never be together as it should be. In celebrating with her, we have to remember and grieve him. That is just the way our family is now.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Our Story Part 14
Taking him home
When we had Curtis' service, his urn was on back order. Figured. They asked us at the service if we wanted to take the "loaner" urn home with us and trade it back in when the teddy bear urn came in. Or they could hold the ashes until the urn came in and give us a call.
For some reason, I couldn't take home the loaner urn. For one, it was ugly. This huge, brass colored thing with a gigantic cross on it. It was a far cry from the cute teddy bear sitting on alphabet blocks. I just didn't want that thing in my house. It wasn't comforting, it was scary. It didn't make me think fondly of my son, it made me angry.
So, we waited for his ashes.
In the mean time, on a random Thursday, I went out to get the mail and saw an envelope from the hospital. Thinking it was some kind of sympathy card from the nurses, I opened it up and out tumbled a picture of Curtis.
I suddenly remembered being in the hospital that day and them stating the professional organization that does the newborn photos offered to take a free set of pictures. It is the only photo we have with his hat off. They clearly touched up the photo as his head his nice and round and doesn't have the ridge I remember. They sent me a few 5x7s in color and black and white and a few wallet size. I was so damn excited about this "long lost" photo I had forgotten about. I called Craig right away. "We got a new picture! We got a new picture!"
He left work early and raced home to see it.
He realized half way into his drive he should be racing home to see his son, not a picture of him. It was a somber moment as I greeted him at the door with the last new picture we ever had of our baby. He held it in his hands and looked down at this photo. Tears filled both of our eyes.
In the weeks that followed, we anxiously wondered where in the world our son's urn was. We called Colin and he said it would be in soon. We were anxious to bring him home.
Finally, we got the call the urn was in. I wasn't back to work quite yet, and I told Craig I could pick the ashes up. He hesitated and said "I want to go with you." We met at the funeral home one late summer afternoon to finally take Curtis home.
Colin handed us the cute urn and I turned it over in my hands. Finally holding Curtis again. I looked at the urn and it struck me this was it. This was my son. This was his ashes. This was the only thing I had.
We walked out to the cars and looked at each other. We had two cars, but both of us wanted to take him home with us. Craig finally opened the backseat to my car and said "He should ride in the back seat." He carefully put the urn in the car and shut the door. He walked slowly to his car, as tears ran down my face.
I got in the front seat, started the car, and drove us home.
It wasn't the way I had wanted, it wasn't the way I had intended, but Curtis was coming home with us. Craig and I walked in the house together. Craig took the urn out of my hands and carefully placed it on Curtis' shelf in the curio cabinet, next to his photos and next to the small teddy bear he was posed with in the hospital. He carefully shut the door to the curio cabinet and I turned on the light so it was shining down on his urn.
Later that night, as we were heading upstairs to go to bed, Craig shut off the light in the curio cabinet. I asked why, as I liked the light shining on him at all times. Craig looked at me, looked at the urn and said "Well, I just...he can't sleep with the light on."
Taking him home
When we had Curtis' service, his urn was on back order. Figured. They asked us at the service if we wanted to take the "loaner" urn home with us and trade it back in when the teddy bear urn came in. Or they could hold the ashes until the urn came in and give us a call.
For some reason, I couldn't take home the loaner urn. For one, it was ugly. This huge, brass colored thing with a gigantic cross on it. It was a far cry from the cute teddy bear sitting on alphabet blocks. I just didn't want that thing in my house. It wasn't comforting, it was scary. It didn't make me think fondly of my son, it made me angry.
So, we waited for his ashes.
In the mean time, on a random Thursday, I went out to get the mail and saw an envelope from the hospital. Thinking it was some kind of sympathy card from the nurses, I opened it up and out tumbled a picture of Curtis.
I suddenly remembered being in the hospital that day and them stating the professional organization that does the newborn photos offered to take a free set of pictures. It is the only photo we have with his hat off. They clearly touched up the photo as his head his nice and round and doesn't have the ridge I remember. They sent me a few 5x7s in color and black and white and a few wallet size. I was so damn excited about this "long lost" photo I had forgotten about. I called Craig right away. "We got a new picture! We got a new picture!"
He left work early and raced home to see it.
He realized half way into his drive he should be racing home to see his son, not a picture of him. It was a somber moment as I greeted him at the door with the last new picture we ever had of our baby. He held it in his hands and looked down at this photo. Tears filled both of our eyes.
In the weeks that followed, we anxiously wondered where in the world our son's urn was. We called Colin and he said it would be in soon. We were anxious to bring him home.
Finally, we got the call the urn was in. I wasn't back to work quite yet, and I told Craig I could pick the ashes up. He hesitated and said "I want to go with you." We met at the funeral home one late summer afternoon to finally take Curtis home.
Colin handed us the cute urn and I turned it over in my hands. Finally holding Curtis again. I looked at the urn and it struck me this was it. This was my son. This was his ashes. This was the only thing I had.
We walked out to the cars and looked at each other. We had two cars, but both of us wanted to take him home with us. Craig finally opened the backseat to my car and said "He should ride in the back seat." He carefully put the urn in the car and shut the door. He walked slowly to his car, as tears ran down my face.
I got in the front seat, started the car, and drove us home.
It wasn't the way I had wanted, it wasn't the way I had intended, but Curtis was coming home with us. Craig and I walked in the house together. Craig took the urn out of my hands and carefully placed it on Curtis' shelf in the curio cabinet, next to his photos and next to the small teddy bear he was posed with in the hospital. He carefully shut the door to the curio cabinet and I turned on the light so it was shining down on his urn.
Later that night, as we were heading upstairs to go to bed, Craig shut off the light in the curio cabinet. I asked why, as I liked the light shining on him at all times. Craig looked at me, looked at the urn and said "Well, I just...he can't sleep with the light on."
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Our Story Part 13
Our Birthdays
Craig and I 12 days apart, his birthday the end of June, my the beginning of July. Our birthdays were rapidly approaching.
The hospital had a support group every 4th Thursday of the month. Even though that landed on Craig's birthday, we agreed it would be wonderful for us to go. They required reserving the spot, which I did online. I didn't want to call the number. I didn't want to call some random secretary on the phone and say "Yes. I would like to attend one of your support groups. The one for people with dead babies. Thanks."
The day of the support group, I received a call from the social worker saying we were the only people to state they were coming. We were still welcome to, but....she trailed off. I got it. I understood. No point in wasting her day. I said, it was fine. She asked what happened and I briefly stated it. She launched into some social worker type stuff about grief and I cut her off.
"I get it. I have a social work degree too. I know exactly what you are going to say. Have you been through a loss?"
"Well, no. But..."
"No, I know what you are going to say. I have had all that training too. I was just hoping for some help, to meet other couples. I am fine. I have women online I talk to for support. I have support like crazy, I just wanted something for my husband. He doesn't have the support I do. "
And I hung up.
What I stated was 100% correct. I had (have) an amazing group of women online that I met during my wedding planning and pregnancy with Curtis. When we lost him, they all felt it too. A lot of them pregnant around the time I was. I then found a grief board where women with stillbirths came together and posted. I truly felt like I had support. But I knew Craig and I needed something as a couple.
So I was pissed. Here we stuck our necks out, and it felt like our heads got chopped off.
Honestly, I think Craig was glad. We spent his 31st birthday at a restaurant, drinking beer, and watching baseball. The way he would have originally liked.
It would be a long time before I involved us in a support group. And it was worth the wait. It was the group and the organization that helped get my daughter here alive and well.
With my birthday looming, so was my return to work. I became extremely nervous. I had become accustomed to my nice little cocoon of sitting in my house, cuddling with my dog, and chatting online. I preferred it. I enjoyed it. The only person I had to please was myself. Money wasn't an issue. Some wonderful, generous, person at my work donated me all of their sick time. I actually returned to work with a week of time off left. Who can take 5 weeks off and have that happen? I never was able to find out who did that, but I am forever grateful.
Craig's grandmother's birthday is the day after mine. She was turning 90 that year and plans had been in the works for 6 months of a huge 90th birthday bash. Relatives were coming in from out of state. A huge catered lunch had been planned. It was suppose to be a fun filled weekend of Craig's cousins and extended family.
This side of the family wasn't around when I was pregnant. They lived out of state. We didn't hear from them after our loss. Curtis was merely a blip on their radar before they came out. That made a few things that happened that weekend so difficult.
Like one of Craig's cousins sitting down next to me and talking with my sister in law. (My sister in law has young daughters and the cousin had older children). The cousin starts going on about kids and how each stage is fun, how as they grow up and become their own people she falls more and more in love with her children. Each stage she loves because each stage shows her how she made the right choice becoming a mom.
Another one of Craig's cousins saying they went through something similar. A miscarriage early in a pregnancy. Not that miscarriages aren't hard (as you will see in a future post) but it is different than a 40 week stillbirth. Trust me.
Then that same night they were putting together poster board of pictures, one of which was all the great grand kid pictures. One cousin's wife gets exasperated and says "Dang it! We need more great grand kids. We don't have enough pictures."
I have to walk out of the house that time.
Another time during the weekend, my sister in law was talking to me about special needs children and said "I think that would be the worst thing that could ever happen to a parent."
Yeah? Really? Try having your kid die.
I work with special needs kids. Do I think for a second the parents have it easy? No. I see the grief and heartache these parents go through. I do not know what it is like to live with it. But I do see the parent's eyes light up when their child says I love you. I see their eyes light up when their non vocal child laughs for the first time. I think those moments count a lot.
So, as I am standing outside, Craig comes out. He wraps his arms around me and we just stand there.
We should have a 4 week old. We shouldn't even be at this house, this time of night. It would be too hard with a tiny baby. We start talking how awesome it would have been to have an "excuse" like that to get out of family functions.
I tell him what our sister in law said about kids with special needs. Craig cocks his head, looks at me and says "Heck, I would take a kid with three eyes! I mean, I would take him to the doctor a lot...."
Craig. He can always make me laugh even at one of my worst moments. Even when I don't want to laugh. Even when it annoys me.
So, on my 31st birthday, I spent the day at a Mass and at a party for Craig's grandma. It was hard. Not that it was my birthday, but that I should have a baby boy in my arms. I should have dressed him in the plaid overalls and white button up shirt I had already picked out for the party. I should be exhausted for very different reasons.
Later that night, one of Craig's cousins, a few sheets to the wind, started asking about Curtis. Grateful to talk, the story tumbled out of us. He was 6lbs, 10oz. Looked like a sleeping baby. 100% normal. Nothing was wrong with him. Craig's nose. Totally. She held our hands, sobbed, and said over and over how sorry she was. How she didn't realize before. She talked to our father in law, and stated the same thing to him. To this day, she remains one of my favorites. For taking the time to learn about Curtis, to asking about him during the weekend. For letting us share him.
We drove home late that night. As we pulled into our driveway, there was Happy Birthday sign outside our little yard. My parents. Flowers on the counter. It was very sweet. They were trying to go to extra lengths to make the day something to remember.
We came in, and Craig gave me my birthday present. Emerald stone butterfly necklace and earrings. Emeralds being Curtis' birthstone. I ran my finger over the pretty stones with a sad smile. They were beautiful. Exactly what I would have picked out for myself.
Our Birthdays
Craig and I 12 days apart, his birthday the end of June, my the beginning of July. Our birthdays were rapidly approaching.
The hospital had a support group every 4th Thursday of the month. Even though that landed on Craig's birthday, we agreed it would be wonderful for us to go. They required reserving the spot, which I did online. I didn't want to call the number. I didn't want to call some random secretary on the phone and say "Yes. I would like to attend one of your support groups. The one for people with dead babies. Thanks."
The day of the support group, I received a call from the social worker saying we were the only people to state they were coming. We were still welcome to, but....she trailed off. I got it. I understood. No point in wasting her day. I said, it was fine. She asked what happened and I briefly stated it. She launched into some social worker type stuff about grief and I cut her off.
"I get it. I have a social work degree too. I know exactly what you are going to say. Have you been through a loss?"
"Well, no. But..."
"No, I know what you are going to say. I have had all that training too. I was just hoping for some help, to meet other couples. I am fine. I have women online I talk to for support. I have support like crazy, I just wanted something for my husband. He doesn't have the support I do. "
And I hung up.
What I stated was 100% correct. I had (have) an amazing group of women online that I met during my wedding planning and pregnancy with Curtis. When we lost him, they all felt it too. A lot of them pregnant around the time I was. I then found a grief board where women with stillbirths came together and posted. I truly felt like I had support. But I knew Craig and I needed something as a couple.
So I was pissed. Here we stuck our necks out, and it felt like our heads got chopped off.
Honestly, I think Craig was glad. We spent his 31st birthday at a restaurant, drinking beer, and watching baseball. The way he would have originally liked.
It would be a long time before I involved us in a support group. And it was worth the wait. It was the group and the organization that helped get my daughter here alive and well.
With my birthday looming, so was my return to work. I became extremely nervous. I had become accustomed to my nice little cocoon of sitting in my house, cuddling with my dog, and chatting online. I preferred it. I enjoyed it. The only person I had to please was myself. Money wasn't an issue. Some wonderful, generous, person at my work donated me all of their sick time. I actually returned to work with a week of time off left. Who can take 5 weeks off and have that happen? I never was able to find out who did that, but I am forever grateful.
Craig's grandmother's birthday is the day after mine. She was turning 90 that year and plans had been in the works for 6 months of a huge 90th birthday bash. Relatives were coming in from out of state. A huge catered lunch had been planned. It was suppose to be a fun filled weekend of Craig's cousins and extended family.
This side of the family wasn't around when I was pregnant. They lived out of state. We didn't hear from them after our loss. Curtis was merely a blip on their radar before they came out. That made a few things that happened that weekend so difficult.
Like one of Craig's cousins sitting down next to me and talking with my sister in law. (My sister in law has young daughters and the cousin had older children). The cousin starts going on about kids and how each stage is fun, how as they grow up and become their own people she falls more and more in love with her children. Each stage she loves because each stage shows her how she made the right choice becoming a mom.
Another one of Craig's cousins saying they went through something similar. A miscarriage early in a pregnancy. Not that miscarriages aren't hard (as you will see in a future post) but it is different than a 40 week stillbirth. Trust me.
Then that same night they were putting together poster board of pictures, one of which was all the great grand kid pictures. One cousin's wife gets exasperated and says "Dang it! We need more great grand kids. We don't have enough pictures."
I have to walk out of the house that time.
Another time during the weekend, my sister in law was talking to me about special needs children and said "I think that would be the worst thing that could ever happen to a parent."
Yeah? Really? Try having your kid die.
I work with special needs kids. Do I think for a second the parents have it easy? No. I see the grief and heartache these parents go through. I do not know what it is like to live with it. But I do see the parent's eyes light up when their child says I love you. I see their eyes light up when their non vocal child laughs for the first time. I think those moments count a lot.
So, as I am standing outside, Craig comes out. He wraps his arms around me and we just stand there.
We should have a 4 week old. We shouldn't even be at this house, this time of night. It would be too hard with a tiny baby. We start talking how awesome it would have been to have an "excuse" like that to get out of family functions.
I tell him what our sister in law said about kids with special needs. Craig cocks his head, looks at me and says "Heck, I would take a kid with three eyes! I mean, I would take him to the doctor a lot...."
Craig. He can always make me laugh even at one of my worst moments. Even when I don't want to laugh. Even when it annoys me.
So, on my 31st birthday, I spent the day at a Mass and at a party for Craig's grandma. It was hard. Not that it was my birthday, but that I should have a baby boy in my arms. I should have dressed him in the plaid overalls and white button up shirt I had already picked out for the party. I should be exhausted for very different reasons.
Later that night, one of Craig's cousins, a few sheets to the wind, started asking about Curtis. Grateful to talk, the story tumbled out of us. He was 6lbs, 10oz. Looked like a sleeping baby. 100% normal. Nothing was wrong with him. Craig's nose. Totally. She held our hands, sobbed, and said over and over how sorry she was. How she didn't realize before. She talked to our father in law, and stated the same thing to him. To this day, she remains one of my favorites. For taking the time to learn about Curtis, to asking about him during the weekend. For letting us share him.
We drove home late that night. As we pulled into our driveway, there was Happy Birthday sign outside our little yard. My parents. Flowers on the counter. It was very sweet. They were trying to go to extra lengths to make the day something to remember.
We came in, and Craig gave me my birthday present. Emerald stone butterfly necklace and earrings. Emeralds being Curtis' birthstone. I ran my finger over the pretty stones with a sad smile. They were beautiful. Exactly what I would have picked out for myself.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Our Story Part 12
The Marathon
About a week and a half after Diane died, Craig's brother and one of Diane's sons Rick (not Craig's best friend) were running in Grandma's Marathon in Duluth, MN. Shortly after we lost Curtis but before Diane died, Craig's brother told us he would like to dedicate his run in Curtis' memory.
Grandma's Marathon is a big deal, with rooms reserved months and month in advance. Diane and her husband had been planning on going to see their son run so she had worked on getting us a hotel room. Prices were astronomically high so we decided to share a room with Craig's friend Jer.
Then Diane died, and the world came crashing down around all of us. Again. We decided to go ahead and go to the marathon. Diane's son, Rick, was still going to run. Craig's brother was running. So on a very rainy night in June, we headed the 2 hours north. We could barely see the road on most of the drive up. Jer was driving and by the time we got to the hotel, it was late, and we were all exhausted. Somehow, we ended up watching a local cable access show called "Average Guys". It was two middle age men who "talked" sports. In their basement. Like Sports Center. Except, without the knowledgeable anchors and clips and, well, flash. It was ridiculously funny without meaning to be. The three of us laughed hysterically at this show. In fact, we still talk about it all the time.
The next morning was the marathon. We had to walk quite a few miles to the finish line. I was just over 2 and half weeks post partum at this point. I had tore pretty bad and was hurting and bleeding heavily by the time we got to the finish line. We waited patiently for Craig's brother to pass by us. He had made a tank top that had Curtis' picture and "Running in Memory of Curtis 5.31.2006" on it. He told us later people had cheered him on saying "Go for Curtis!" quite a few times during the race. It really meant a lot to us.
After the race was over, a group of us went out for pizza. I remember sitting at this table, ordering some pizza, everyone chatting and just wanting to sink into the ground. I was so sick of everything being normal. I wanted to stand up and scream to the packed restaurant "MY SON DIED! WHY DON'T YOU PEOPLE CARE? HOW CAN YOU KEEP LIVING YOUR LIFE WHEN MY SON DIED?" Even my husband, just chattering away, making his jokes, he seemed so normal. I knew he wasn't. I knew he was dying inside. I knew he missed Curtis just as much as I did. I knew he wished like hell we were sitting home with our 3 week old son marveling at baby spit up. But on the outside of everyone we looked like any other normal group from that weekend. However, we weren't. We had just lost our son. Our in laws just lost a grandson, nephew, and dear friend. Our friends just had lost their mom. We were a shattered and broken bunch. Ordering pizza. Because life ticks on.
I couldn't walk back to the hotel, I was very sore and aching. My brother in law, who had just run the race, offered to drive me back to the hotel. There is a big party atmosphere after the marathon and everyone else wanted to partake in it. I was in desperate need of a nap and alone time. I couldn't pretend anymore. I was broken. I didn't want to hang out in some bars or party tent with hundreds of people. No small talk. I just wanted to be broken. All by myself.
I immediately sunk onto the hotel bed and closed my eyes. Images of Curtis flashed through my head and I tried so hard to remember what it felt like to hold him. I fell into a deep sleep.
Later, I woke up and wandered the hotel looking for something to eat. There was an indoor water park that had a snack bar. I ordered a hamburger and watched the kids play. There was a dad, of course, with 2 sons. He was picking up each one and throwing them into one of the pool areas. They were screeching and laughing. "Again, Dad!" could be heard throughout the water park area.
Dads and sons. Gets me every time.
I took my sad burger back to the room and ate it in front of the TV. Throughout the night, Craig kept calling to check in on me. Was I okay. Should he come back to the room. Yes. No. One thing everyone tells you: men and women grieve differently. It was true. I think Craig found comfort in fun, routine activities. Stuff we would have done had we never had a child. Where I found comfort in being alone and not having to put on a brave face. I wanted him to have fun. And honestly, it felt good being by myself but some where far from home.
I remember changing into short to wear to bed, sitting on my bed, just running my fingers over my teddy bear tattoo. "Curtis Roger 5.31.2006" Over and over I touched it. He was real. I have the tattoo to prove it. Even though I often wonder what the hell happened. Was it imagined? Did it really happen? The tattoo reminds me of how real it all was and is. Then and now. So, I sit and looked at my tattoo. And missed my little baby boy.
The Marathon
About a week and a half after Diane died, Craig's brother and one of Diane's sons Rick (not Craig's best friend) were running in Grandma's Marathon in Duluth, MN. Shortly after we lost Curtis but before Diane died, Craig's brother told us he would like to dedicate his run in Curtis' memory.
Grandma's Marathon is a big deal, with rooms reserved months and month in advance. Diane and her husband had been planning on going to see their son run so she had worked on getting us a hotel room. Prices were astronomically high so we decided to share a room with Craig's friend Jer.
Then Diane died, and the world came crashing down around all of us. Again. We decided to go ahead and go to the marathon. Diane's son, Rick, was still going to run. Craig's brother was running. So on a very rainy night in June, we headed the 2 hours north. We could barely see the road on most of the drive up. Jer was driving and by the time we got to the hotel, it was late, and we were all exhausted. Somehow, we ended up watching a local cable access show called "Average Guys". It was two middle age men who "talked" sports. In their basement. Like Sports Center. Except, without the knowledgeable anchors and clips and, well, flash. It was ridiculously funny without meaning to be. The three of us laughed hysterically at this show. In fact, we still talk about it all the time.
The next morning was the marathon. We had to walk quite a few miles to the finish line. I was just over 2 and half weeks post partum at this point. I had tore pretty bad and was hurting and bleeding heavily by the time we got to the finish line. We waited patiently for Craig's brother to pass by us. He had made a tank top that had Curtis' picture and "Running in Memory of Curtis 5.31.2006" on it. He told us later people had cheered him on saying "Go for Curtis!" quite a few times during the race. It really meant a lot to us.
After the race was over, a group of us went out for pizza. I remember sitting at this table, ordering some pizza, everyone chatting and just wanting to sink into the ground. I was so sick of everything being normal. I wanted to stand up and scream to the packed restaurant "MY SON DIED! WHY DON'T YOU PEOPLE CARE? HOW CAN YOU KEEP LIVING YOUR LIFE WHEN MY SON DIED?" Even my husband, just chattering away, making his jokes, he seemed so normal. I knew he wasn't. I knew he was dying inside. I knew he missed Curtis just as much as I did. I knew he wished like hell we were sitting home with our 3 week old son marveling at baby spit up. But on the outside of everyone we looked like any other normal group from that weekend. However, we weren't. We had just lost our son. Our in laws just lost a grandson, nephew, and dear friend. Our friends just had lost their mom. We were a shattered and broken bunch. Ordering pizza. Because life ticks on.
I couldn't walk back to the hotel, I was very sore and aching. My brother in law, who had just run the race, offered to drive me back to the hotel. There is a big party atmosphere after the marathon and everyone else wanted to partake in it. I was in desperate need of a nap and alone time. I couldn't pretend anymore. I was broken. I didn't want to hang out in some bars or party tent with hundreds of people. No small talk. I just wanted to be broken. All by myself.
I immediately sunk onto the hotel bed and closed my eyes. Images of Curtis flashed through my head and I tried so hard to remember what it felt like to hold him. I fell into a deep sleep.
Later, I woke up and wandered the hotel looking for something to eat. There was an indoor water park that had a snack bar. I ordered a hamburger and watched the kids play. There was a dad, of course, with 2 sons. He was picking up each one and throwing them into one of the pool areas. They were screeching and laughing. "Again, Dad!" could be heard throughout the water park area.
Dads and sons. Gets me every time.
I took my sad burger back to the room and ate it in front of the TV. Throughout the night, Craig kept calling to check in on me. Was I okay. Should he come back to the room. Yes. No. One thing everyone tells you: men and women grieve differently. It was true. I think Craig found comfort in fun, routine activities. Stuff we would have done had we never had a child. Where I found comfort in being alone and not having to put on a brave face. I wanted him to have fun. And honestly, it felt good being by myself but some where far from home.
I remember changing into short to wear to bed, sitting on my bed, just running my fingers over my teddy bear tattoo. "Curtis Roger 5.31.2006" Over and over I touched it. He was real. I have the tattoo to prove it. Even though I often wonder what the hell happened. Was it imagined? Did it really happen? The tattoo reminds me of how real it all was and is. Then and now. So, I sit and looked at my tattoo. And missed my little baby boy.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Deviation from "our story"
I know on my last deviation post, I waxed a nice poetic thing about baby showers and how glad I am I had one. And, I truly am. It was the only baby shower I had. I didn't have one for our daughter. (Well, that is not true. I had a surprise dinner with a few friends about 5 months after she was born. I cherish this VERY MUCH). It was the only shower I had with family and the whole kit and caboodle.
But, I am also over 2 years out from my loss and I can look back on these things with a better view. I do understand that. And I want people to know that wherever you are with your grief, it is okay. It is okay to be angry you had a baby shower. That is okay.
I was talking to my mom on the phone last night and the topic came 'round to Curtis. We were talking about baby showers (a friend of hers told her "that is why you shouldn't have a shower before the baby is born. And we launched into the conversation on why I am happy we had one.)
She had the horrible task of doing things with his clothes. I made a post awhile back about "running" into some of his things. At this point, she has 95% of them gone. She is holding a garage sale with my grandma this week, and I guess the few items she had left, she put out. A very pregnant woman came up and started going through them. My mom had to walk away when she came up to buy them. She said the woman was beaming, so excited at the finds of these Brand! New! Clothes! So cute.
Choked up, she tells me: "I don't know why, but that little blue dinosaur hooded sweatshirt and pants, they just make me ache."
I gasp.
"That was one of the first things I bought for him when I found out he was a boy. "
"Maybe that is why. It is so cute."
Through my tears I tell her, "I am kind of mad it is one of the last things to go. That is one of the cutest things we had!"
She laughs through her own tears and says "If you had seen the look on this woman's face, sweetie, you would understand why it was the last one left. It was like it was meant for her. Because she cherished that outfit. She was so excited about it, showing it to her mom. She had that innocent glow. Ya know?"
Even though we were crying, even though I would give anything to have dressed my son in that outfit (it was REALLY cute) it does help. It does help to know that at least some of his stuff went to people who adored it as much as I did.
After Curtis was stillborn, I had a few friends who were having boys around the time. I sent them a few of his items, with a note that it wasn't suppose to be sad, it was suppose to be hopeful and I was happy for them. I never heard much from these people about these things. Just a standard "thanks for the ______" thank you note. It hurt. It really did. It took a lot for me to send stuff away in the first months after our loss, and I was expecting a bit more. Maybe people thought it was creepy. But I went to his room, picked out things, packaged it up, and mailed it. All the time sobbing. So, when it was met with a cold reception, I didn't do it again. It hurt my feelings. I wanted people to understand that took a lot for me to do that. I wanted them to cherish the things I had bought for my baby boy and ended up sending away.
So, in a way, even though this woman doesn't know the story behind this cute outfit, and may wonder why in the world this outfit was never worn, at least she will enjoy it and take hundreds of pictures of her newborn son in it and never ever know the true story.
I know on my last deviation post, I waxed a nice poetic thing about baby showers and how glad I am I had one. And, I truly am. It was the only baby shower I had. I didn't have one for our daughter. (Well, that is not true. I had a surprise dinner with a few friends about 5 months after she was born. I cherish this VERY MUCH). It was the only shower I had with family and the whole kit and caboodle.
But, I am also over 2 years out from my loss and I can look back on these things with a better view. I do understand that. And I want people to know that wherever you are with your grief, it is okay. It is okay to be angry you had a baby shower. That is okay.
I was talking to my mom on the phone last night and the topic came 'round to Curtis. We were talking about baby showers (a friend of hers told her "that is why you shouldn't have a shower before the baby is born. And we launched into the conversation on why I am happy we had one.)
She had the horrible task of doing things with his clothes. I made a post awhile back about "running" into some of his things. At this point, she has 95% of them gone. She is holding a garage sale with my grandma this week, and I guess the few items she had left, she put out. A very pregnant woman came up and started going through them. My mom had to walk away when she came up to buy them. She said the woman was beaming, so excited at the finds of these Brand! New! Clothes! So cute.
Choked up, she tells me: "I don't know why, but that little blue dinosaur hooded sweatshirt and pants, they just make me ache."
I gasp.
"That was one of the first things I bought for him when I found out he was a boy. "
"Maybe that is why. It is so cute."
Through my tears I tell her, "I am kind of mad it is one of the last things to go. That is one of the cutest things we had!"
She laughs through her own tears and says "If you had seen the look on this woman's face, sweetie, you would understand why it was the last one left. It was like it was meant for her. Because she cherished that outfit. She was so excited about it, showing it to her mom. She had that innocent glow. Ya know?"
Even though we were crying, even though I would give anything to have dressed my son in that outfit (it was REALLY cute) it does help. It does help to know that at least some of his stuff went to people who adored it as much as I did.
After Curtis was stillborn, I had a few friends who were having boys around the time. I sent them a few of his items, with a note that it wasn't suppose to be sad, it was suppose to be hopeful and I was happy for them. I never heard much from these people about these things. Just a standard "thanks for the ______" thank you note. It hurt. It really did. It took a lot for me to send stuff away in the first months after our loss, and I was expecting a bit more. Maybe people thought it was creepy. But I went to his room, picked out things, packaged it up, and mailed it. All the time sobbing. So, when it was met with a cold reception, I didn't do it again. It hurt my feelings. I wanted people to understand that took a lot for me to do that. I wanted them to cherish the things I had bought for my baby boy and ended up sending away.
So, in a way, even though this woman doesn't know the story behind this cute outfit, and may wonder why in the world this outfit was never worn, at least she will enjoy it and take hundreds of pictures of her newborn son in it and never ever know the true story.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Our Story
Part 11 Back to the real world.
The night of Diane's funeral was a difficult one. Craig had went back with the family to their house and I had went home. I couldn't handle anymore people. I was spent. I was exhausted.
Craig said he would be home in the evening sometime. As the minutes, and hours, ticked by I got more and more worried. I paced the floor. I held my cell phone in my hand at all time. I would be able to reach him on his phone, and he told me he would be leaving soon, but never did. I tried to get some sleep but I couldn't stand to be away from him. Every time I closed my eyes, I would imagine the worst. Any car that passed the house, I was sure it was a police officer coming to tell me some horrible news. I was just convinced he was never coming home. As the night wore on, I became increasingly more agitated and worried. Later on, I would learn, he had spent the night talking with his friend and, in true guy fashion, drowning their sorrows in beer.
I now know how important that time was. Jer and Craig were able to escape together and be with someone with a shared horrible loss. They were able to talk and laugh and talk. They probably had their first "deep" conversation in their 25 year friendship.
But to me, at the time, I just felt abandoned and lonely. I was angry and hurt. It was a hard thing to feel. We had just lost our son, this was small peanuts compared to that. But I was still angry at my husband for hurting my feelings, like I had been at other times in our relationship. I remember him asking me the next day if it was really that big of a deal. After everything we had been through, couldn't we just not argue? I told him just because our son died doesn't mean he escapes me getting angry with him.
It was just another thing we had to adjust to. We easily got through it, and like I stated, I do now understand what happened that night and I am glad he had the chance to spend that time with his friend. But, life does get in the way of grief. And just because you are grieving does not mean everyday annoyances aren't going to get on your nerves.
Craig returned to work a few days later and the life started to ease back into a routine. I had spoken to my work and decided to come back in early July. I had been planning to be transferred to a different location (close to home) after Curtis was born. I was excited to cut down my 120 mile a day round trip commute out. I was convinced they were going to make me return to my old location once I didn't have the baby as an "excuse" as why I needed to be close. I found out later, that wasn't the case and I was grateful. I did not want to return to the location where I spent so much of my time pregnant and spending time with the people who shared my pregnancy daily. I needed fresh new clients and a fresh new area.
So, I had 4 weeks. 4 weeks where Craig would leave everyday and I would stay home. Those days are a blur of nothing. I rarely left the house. I would force myself on one small errand each day. That may be something as simple as driving the 2 blocks to the post office. I mostly spent a lot of time online. Research stillbirth. Posting on a message board. Sitting on the couch and dreaming about being pregnant again.
Trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. What happened to my life? Had I _really_ been pregnant? Had I really given birth? If so, where was my proof?? Every other woman who spends 9 months pregnant gets her baby.
It felt like a gigantic game of pretend. For 9 months, everyone around me indulged in my little game and one day, they all stopped. Back to the real world. No more pretending.
It was something, and is something, I struggle with everyday.
Part 11 Back to the real world.
The night of Diane's funeral was a difficult one. Craig had went back with the family to their house and I had went home. I couldn't handle anymore people. I was spent. I was exhausted.
Craig said he would be home in the evening sometime. As the minutes, and hours, ticked by I got more and more worried. I paced the floor. I held my cell phone in my hand at all time. I would be able to reach him on his phone, and he told me he would be leaving soon, but never did. I tried to get some sleep but I couldn't stand to be away from him. Every time I closed my eyes, I would imagine the worst. Any car that passed the house, I was sure it was a police officer coming to tell me some horrible news. I was just convinced he was never coming home. As the night wore on, I became increasingly more agitated and worried. Later on, I would learn, he had spent the night talking with his friend and, in true guy fashion, drowning their sorrows in beer.
I now know how important that time was. Jer and Craig were able to escape together and be with someone with a shared horrible loss. They were able to talk and laugh and talk. They probably had their first "deep" conversation in their 25 year friendship.
But to me, at the time, I just felt abandoned and lonely. I was angry and hurt. It was a hard thing to feel. We had just lost our son, this was small peanuts compared to that. But I was still angry at my husband for hurting my feelings, like I had been at other times in our relationship. I remember him asking me the next day if it was really that big of a deal. After everything we had been through, couldn't we just not argue? I told him just because our son died doesn't mean he escapes me getting angry with him.
It was just another thing we had to adjust to. We easily got through it, and like I stated, I do now understand what happened that night and I am glad he had the chance to spend that time with his friend. But, life does get in the way of grief. And just because you are grieving does not mean everyday annoyances aren't going to get on your nerves.
Craig returned to work a few days later and the life started to ease back into a routine. I had spoken to my work and decided to come back in early July. I had been planning to be transferred to a different location (close to home) after Curtis was born. I was excited to cut down my 120 mile a day round trip commute out. I was convinced they were going to make me return to my old location once I didn't have the baby as an "excuse" as why I needed to be close. I found out later, that wasn't the case and I was grateful. I did not want to return to the location where I spent so much of my time pregnant and spending time with the people who shared my pregnancy daily. I needed fresh new clients and a fresh new area.
So, I had 4 weeks. 4 weeks where Craig would leave everyday and I would stay home. Those days are a blur of nothing. I rarely left the house. I would force myself on one small errand each day. That may be something as simple as driving the 2 blocks to the post office. I mostly spent a lot of time online. Research stillbirth. Posting on a message board. Sitting on the couch and dreaming about being pregnant again.
Trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. What happened to my life? Had I _really_ been pregnant? Had I really given birth? If so, where was my proof?? Every other woman who spends 9 months pregnant gets her baby.
It felt like a gigantic game of pretend. For 9 months, everyone around me indulged in my little game and one day, they all stopped. Back to the real world. No more pretending.
It was something, and is something, I struggle with everyday.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
A deviation from "our story" posts....
I saw this post on a message board from a woman:
So, I was on a message board and saw a thread on "When should I have my baby shower?"Bless her and hope she remains ignorant. (you know what I mean)And someone's response, "You should make sure to have it by 30 weeks because you don't know what will happen!"My response, in my head, "You shouldn't have one until they are here because you REALLY don't know what will happen."And I can't say it out loud because it would be perceived as mean, cruel, terrible, etc etc etc.I see it as realistic.
This made me think.
I saw this post on a message board from a woman:
So, I was on a message board and saw a thread on "When should I have my baby shower?"Bless her and hope she remains ignorant. (you know what I mean)And someone's response, "You should make sure to have it by 30 weeks because you don't know what will happen!"My response, in my head, "You shouldn't have one until they are here because you REALLY don't know what will happen."And I can't say it out loud because it would be perceived as mean, cruel, terrible, etc etc etc.I see it as realistic.
This made me think.
Recently, I have come to terms with Curtis' shower and nursery and shopping for him and planning for his life. As much as it SUCKED to have planned for his life and face all of that "stuff" after his death, I am glad I had it all. Sure, there are plenty of times I am very bitter about it.
But, there is some good with it all.
It was the one time he was celebrated. It was the one time everyone was happy when it was something surrounding him. So as much as it sucks he died at 40 weeks, I have wonderful memories of his baby shower and I am glad I had it and I am glad I shopped and planned for him. I am glad I did an entire nursery. So, even though we lost him at 40 weeks and I had to dismantle that nursery and pack away little clothes he never got to wear, at least I got a shower.
At least there was a time people acknowledged and were happy about something surrounding him.
Because after his death, that wasn't the case.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Our Story Part 10
Tattoos, and Funerals
Late Friday night, Craig and I decided to drive back to Red Wing. We still had our hotel room reservation and we still really wanted to get away. We knew Diane's funeral wasn't going to be for a few days and there wouldn't be much for us to do at home the next day. My mother in law told us to go, she knew how badly we needed it. So, at about midnight, we drove the 2 hours south. We were exhausted, but it felt good to lay in bed together. We needed a break from people and we were heading into another people full event.
We just couldn't believe the way things were happening. We had cancelled our tattoo appointment the day before but had rescheduled for the next day. We arrived at Spirit Garden's (that was her name, I guess ) tattoo shop early afternoon and settled in for our tattoos. I have such fun memories of this event. I think it was one of the first times I felt like things would be okay again some day. Never the same, never ever the same. And no time soon. But, hearing Craig joke in his typical manner made me feel "at home."
He was the first up in Spirit's chair. She got to work on the cute teddy bear holding a blue flower on his left uper arm. After she was done, she asked him to look in the mirror and tell her what he thought. He took one look at it and said "Well, it is nice, but it is backwards." A look of horror came over her face, until she realized he was joking. He was looking at in the mirror. She laughed, I laughed and to this day that memory is one of my strongest in the days after his death.
After we both got our tattoos, we both were obsessed with looking at them in the mirror. I was (and am) extremely proud of my tattoo for Curtis. Like I had stated before, Craig is the exact opposite of a tattoo guy. No way he would have ever gotten a tattoo, much less a tattoo of a teddy bear.
But Curtis. That Curtis. He changed us. He forever made us people we never thought we would be.
We spent the rest of Saturday together. We ate at a Chinese restaurant, we gambled in the casino and we talked. We knew this was our one shot. This was the one day that we had together before we were thrust back into the real world. Not just Diane's funeral, but Craig was going to need to return to work. We stopped at Target for ointment for our tattoos, and I wandered into the book section. I picked up Marley and Me, a book about a maniac dog. I read the book jacket. It mentioned how the dog helped the couple after they suffered a pregnancy loss. My eyes welled with tears and I bought the book. I knew sometime I would be strong enough to read it.
On Sunday, we made out way back home and went over with Diane's family. There were tons of people, preparing for the funeral. We had many people come us, hug us, tell us how sorry they were. We were saying the same thing back.
One thing that really sticks out in my head this day is listening to Diane's husband speak. I was sitting at the kitchen table, and he was talking to a cousin of Diane's who was going to do the eulogy. Steve started telling their story. How they met, when they decided to get married, he told about the birth of their 4 boys. He started talking about how in between sons three and four, they suffered a miscarriage. How sad that time was. I remember tears just pouring out of my eyes, thinking about their loss. How hard that must have been on Diane. Up until this point, I had been on autopilot. I hadn't cried much, I was just done with all emotion. But that moment brought it all back.
On Monday, Craig went to work and we met at the funeral home later for visitation. I had thrown on some maternity clothes. I knew I needed to wear the outfit I had worn to Curtis' funeral to Diane's. It was the only thing that fit. So I put on these maternity clothes that didn't fit and felt uncomfortable.
Which is exactly how I felt at her visitation and funeral.
I think the visitation was the worst of the two. Everyone knew what had happened to us, but since we had a small service, no one had seen us. We had swarms of people around us, telling us how sorry they were, how bad they felt. A friend of my mother in law's grabbed my face and expressed her sadness. I didn't want to be rude, but I wanted nothing more than to yank my face away. The visitation allowed more time for talking like this, I felt like too much attention was focused on us. That probably isn't true, but with the amount of people coming up to us, I felt like we were standing out.
This wasn't Curtis' funeral. This was Diane's. I didn't want to talk to people. I didn't want their sympathy. I wanted to be left alone. I nodded politely, and said thank you. I tried not to get separate from Craig as he was better at handling the situation than I was.
At the funeral the next day, Craig was a pall bearer so he needed to sit up front and I was sitting in a pew with my sister in law and a friend. I remember them sobbing into their Kleenex and once again, I felt nothing. Watching Diane's husband and 4 boys, with their arms all around each other, looking at her body one last time before they closed the casket? Nothing.
I was empty. I knew it was a horrible loss. I knew it was unfair. But at this point, nothing seemed to phase me. My brain had shut off emotion. It was the only way I could survive.
Tattoos, and Funerals
Late Friday night, Craig and I decided to drive back to Red Wing. We still had our hotel room reservation and we still really wanted to get away. We knew Diane's funeral wasn't going to be for a few days and there wouldn't be much for us to do at home the next day. My mother in law told us to go, she knew how badly we needed it. So, at about midnight, we drove the 2 hours south. We were exhausted, but it felt good to lay in bed together. We needed a break from people and we were heading into another people full event.
We just couldn't believe the way things were happening. We had cancelled our tattoo appointment the day before but had rescheduled for the next day. We arrived at Spirit Garden's (that was her name, I guess ) tattoo shop early afternoon and settled in for our tattoos. I have such fun memories of this event. I think it was one of the first times I felt like things would be okay again some day. Never the same, never ever the same. And no time soon. But, hearing Craig joke in his typical manner made me feel "at home."
He was the first up in Spirit's chair. She got to work on the cute teddy bear holding a blue flower on his left uper arm. After she was done, she asked him to look in the mirror and tell her what he thought. He took one look at it and said "Well, it is nice, but it is backwards." A look of horror came over her face, until she realized he was joking. He was looking at in the mirror. She laughed, I laughed and to this day that memory is one of my strongest in the days after his death.
After we both got our tattoos, we both were obsessed with looking at them in the mirror. I was (and am) extremely proud of my tattoo for Curtis. Like I had stated before, Craig is the exact opposite of a tattoo guy. No way he would have ever gotten a tattoo, much less a tattoo of a teddy bear.
But Curtis. That Curtis. He changed us. He forever made us people we never thought we would be.
We spent the rest of Saturday together. We ate at a Chinese restaurant, we gambled in the casino and we talked. We knew this was our one shot. This was the one day that we had together before we were thrust back into the real world. Not just Diane's funeral, but Craig was going to need to return to work. We stopped at Target for ointment for our tattoos, and I wandered into the book section. I picked up Marley and Me, a book about a maniac dog. I read the book jacket. It mentioned how the dog helped the couple after they suffered a pregnancy loss. My eyes welled with tears and I bought the book. I knew sometime I would be strong enough to read it.
On Sunday, we made out way back home and went over with Diane's family. There were tons of people, preparing for the funeral. We had many people come us, hug us, tell us how sorry they were. We were saying the same thing back.
One thing that really sticks out in my head this day is listening to Diane's husband speak. I was sitting at the kitchen table, and he was talking to a cousin of Diane's who was going to do the eulogy. Steve started telling their story. How they met, when they decided to get married, he told about the birth of their 4 boys. He started talking about how in between sons three and four, they suffered a miscarriage. How sad that time was. I remember tears just pouring out of my eyes, thinking about their loss. How hard that must have been on Diane. Up until this point, I had been on autopilot. I hadn't cried much, I was just done with all emotion. But that moment brought it all back.
On Monday, Craig went to work and we met at the funeral home later for visitation. I had thrown on some maternity clothes. I knew I needed to wear the outfit I had worn to Curtis' funeral to Diane's. It was the only thing that fit. So I put on these maternity clothes that didn't fit and felt uncomfortable.
Which is exactly how I felt at her visitation and funeral.
I think the visitation was the worst of the two. Everyone knew what had happened to us, but since we had a small service, no one had seen us. We had swarms of people around us, telling us how sorry they were, how bad they felt. A friend of my mother in law's grabbed my face and expressed her sadness. I didn't want to be rude, but I wanted nothing more than to yank my face away. The visitation allowed more time for talking like this, I felt like too much attention was focused on us. That probably isn't true, but with the amount of people coming up to us, I felt like we were standing out.
This wasn't Curtis' funeral. This was Diane's. I didn't want to talk to people. I didn't want their sympathy. I wanted to be left alone. I nodded politely, and said thank you. I tried not to get separate from Craig as he was better at handling the situation than I was.
At the funeral the next day, Craig was a pall bearer so he needed to sit up front and I was sitting in a pew with my sister in law and a friend. I remember them sobbing into their Kleenex and once again, I felt nothing. Watching Diane's husband and 4 boys, with their arms all around each other, looking at her body one last time before they closed the casket? Nothing.
I was empty. I knew it was a horrible loss. I knew it was unfair. But at this point, nothing seemed to phase me. My brain had shut off emotion. It was the only way I could survive.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Our Story
Another Loss Part 9
In the days and weeks following Curtis's death I used to lay beside Craig and fight sleep. I am one of the "lucky" ones that can usually sleep pretty well even when tragedy strikes. The doctor prescribed me some sleeping pills, but I never took them. In fact, the only reason I ended up taking a few Tylenol PMs was because I was trying to force myself to stay awake when I needed sleep.
I was terrified if I closed my eyes, when I would wake up, the love of my life would be gone.
Because, let's face it, that is what happened to Curtis. A baby that is to be stillborn usually dies at night, while the mother sleeps and her blood pressure drops. There are other factors involved, of course, but that is the likely time frame and something I learned a few days after losing Curtis.
If Curtis could just die while I was sleeping, so could Craig. So I would lay next to him, listening to him breathe. He usually has a slight snore so if that ever stopped, I was leaning across him, laying my hand on his chest and feeling the rise and fall.
When life changes so suddenly it is normal to feel this way. But I didn't know what normal was. Honestly, my life had been pretty peachy keen when it came to death. Only great grandparents well into their 80s had died. I had a grandfather die when I was 3, but I didn't remember that. I had a friend in high school die, but she wasn't anyone I had been close to since years before her death and honestly, it didn't effect me that much.
So Curtis was my first taste of the unfairness death brings.
Diane was my second.
We drove towards my in laws from Red Wing, trying to piece this all together. What had happened? How is this possible? Craig's cell phone kept ringing. His brother had been the first to hear. Working for the city, he had a co-worker who was a police officer who knew our family was friends with her family. They figured it was her heart.
This is going to sound purely selfish, but it felt so unfair. Craig and I were trying to spend a few days together away from home before he had to go back to work. We needed an espcape from everyone and we ended up back into another hellish situation. We knew how horrible it was to think this, but it just felt so unfair. We had enough going on. This situation alone would have been horrible enough.
Craig went over to be with the family. His best friend Jer, one of Diane's son's, was on a business trip and hadn't even been notified yet. They couldn't get a hold of him. He was to be flying that night and Craig offered to pick him up at the airport.
I spent the afternoon at my in laws house with one of my sister in laws and my father in law. I remember speaking out loud about my fear that Craig would die while I slept. My father in law kept saying that would never happen. But in situations like that, it is obvious how it can happen all too suddenly.
The day passed. My mother in law was at a loss. She was the last person to see Diane alive. They had been out late, at the casino. Diane had dropped my mother in law off late that night, gotten home, and died while getting ready for bed shortly after. Her husband didn't find her until closer to afternoon. They always slept in separate beds due to his snoring, and when Diane had been at the casino late, she always slept in. I remember my mother in law calling, sobbing hysterically. Repeatedly saying "I cannot believe this. I just can't." In the span of 10 days she lost her grandson and her best friend. The friend who was getting her out of the house, the friend who would help her through her grandson's death. Life is brutally unfair.
Craig and another friend went to pick up Jer at the airport. He had heard at this point. On some lay over, in some grimy airport, he heard that his mother had died. He knew it was bad by the sound of his brother's voice. He was expecting his uncle, or his grandma, or heck, even his dad. But not his mom. Not the mom who he had seen 3 days prior at some big family gathering.
At the doors near baggage claim, Craig and their friend waited. Jer came through the double doors. He took one look at Craig and said "Well, I guess she wanted to go hold Curtis."
Another Loss Part 9
In the days and weeks following Curtis's death I used to lay beside Craig and fight sleep. I am one of the "lucky" ones that can usually sleep pretty well even when tragedy strikes. The doctor prescribed me some sleeping pills, but I never took them. In fact, the only reason I ended up taking a few Tylenol PMs was because I was trying to force myself to stay awake when I needed sleep.
I was terrified if I closed my eyes, when I would wake up, the love of my life would be gone.
Because, let's face it, that is what happened to Curtis. A baby that is to be stillborn usually dies at night, while the mother sleeps and her blood pressure drops. There are other factors involved, of course, but that is the likely time frame and something I learned a few days after losing Curtis.
If Curtis could just die while I was sleeping, so could Craig. So I would lay next to him, listening to him breathe. He usually has a slight snore so if that ever stopped, I was leaning across him, laying my hand on his chest and feeling the rise and fall.
When life changes so suddenly it is normal to feel this way. But I didn't know what normal was. Honestly, my life had been pretty peachy keen when it came to death. Only great grandparents well into their 80s had died. I had a grandfather die when I was 3, but I didn't remember that. I had a friend in high school die, but she wasn't anyone I had been close to since years before her death and honestly, it didn't effect me that much.
So Curtis was my first taste of the unfairness death brings.
Diane was my second.
We drove towards my in laws from Red Wing, trying to piece this all together. What had happened? How is this possible? Craig's cell phone kept ringing. His brother had been the first to hear. Working for the city, he had a co-worker who was a police officer who knew our family was friends with her family. They figured it was her heart.
This is going to sound purely selfish, but it felt so unfair. Craig and I were trying to spend a few days together away from home before he had to go back to work. We needed an espcape from everyone and we ended up back into another hellish situation. We knew how horrible it was to think this, but it just felt so unfair. We had enough going on. This situation alone would have been horrible enough.
Craig went over to be with the family. His best friend Jer, one of Diane's son's, was on a business trip and hadn't even been notified yet. They couldn't get a hold of him. He was to be flying that night and Craig offered to pick him up at the airport.
I spent the afternoon at my in laws house with one of my sister in laws and my father in law. I remember speaking out loud about my fear that Craig would die while I slept. My father in law kept saying that would never happen. But in situations like that, it is obvious how it can happen all too suddenly.
The day passed. My mother in law was at a loss. She was the last person to see Diane alive. They had been out late, at the casino. Diane had dropped my mother in law off late that night, gotten home, and died while getting ready for bed shortly after. Her husband didn't find her until closer to afternoon. They always slept in separate beds due to his snoring, and when Diane had been at the casino late, she always slept in. I remember my mother in law calling, sobbing hysterically. Repeatedly saying "I cannot believe this. I just can't." In the span of 10 days she lost her grandson and her best friend. The friend who was getting her out of the house, the friend who would help her through her grandson's death. Life is brutally unfair.
Craig and another friend went to pick up Jer at the airport. He had heard at this point. On some lay over, in some grimy airport, he heard that his mother had died. He knew it was bad by the sound of his brother's voice. He was expecting his uncle, or his grandma, or heck, even his dad. But not his mom. Not the mom who he had seen 3 days prior at some big family gathering.
At the doors near baggage claim, Craig and their friend waited. Jer came through the double doors. He took one look at Craig and said "Well, I guess she wanted to go hold Curtis."
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