The promise of tomorrow

Tomorrow's the 14th.  This may mean nothing to most people.... but to me it means everything.  Two months ago Declan passed away.  Two months ago our hearts were ripped out and stomped on.  Two months ago we prayed for a miracle.  Two months ago.... I can hardly believe that.  Saying "two months ago" seems like the time has just flown by.... but then I think to the actual day, the funeral, the aftermath of that first week and it all seems like forever ago.  Time is so funny because in the moment, time drags on.  There are days when I can't believe how slow the hands on the clock are moving, but then before I know it, another week has passed by and we are once again upon a Tuesday, I get my morning "thinking about you today" text from a dear friend and I spend the rest of the day thinking about Declan....thinking about his life and his death.  Wondering what the future holds... wondering what my family will be like in a year, two years.... the future is so uncertain and is no longer something I count on having.  I continue to be amazed at the uncertainty of life... no one is promised tomorrow.   As I get ready for bed, I have to remind myself to be thankful for the day I was given... thankful that, although two months ago Declan passed away, he continues to live in my heart and thankful of the promise that I will see him again.... maybe not today or even tomorrow, but someday.

The power of our hands

Very few of us are able to say we have experienced a true 'life-saving' moment in our existence. We throw around the phrase often enough, but many of us have truly never experienced another human being saving or sustaining our life.  I have been thinking a lot about the people who were called in to 'save' Declan's life.  I think of the police officers who arrived first, walking into the house and seeing a baby, unresponsive... I've learned that both men were fathers... I know they are trained to be able to separate their emotions from their work, but I can't imagine they didn't instantly think of their own children.  I am sure they were even more aware of what was at risk... not only the loss of a child, but also the heartbreak of his parents.  I think of the men and women on the emergency response team... how thankful I am for them.... they gave me the gift of time, precious hours to spend with my angel.  I remember walking into the ER and seeing them performing CPR on my baby... it wasn't crazy, it wasn't hectic and chaotic, it was almost, in a sense, peaceful.  One person held the breathing tube in place, while other men took turns doing chest compressions....their fingers wrapped around Dex's body, tucked under his chest and only their thumbs moving up and down.  Their hands kept my son's heart beating.  He was alive simply because other people, with their own hands, were manually beating his heart for him.  I want to touch those hands... I want to have those hands cradle my face, I want to pull those hands into my chest, close to my heart... I want to hold the hands that in essence held my son's heart. I also want to know why they did CPR for two hours.  Is that typical? I was sitting there holding Declan's hand, sitting on the edge of my seat, preparing myself to hear the declaration of his death at any moment, but it never came... they didn't stop.... I don't know why, but am SO thankful they didn't.  They will never know what they did for us... for my son.  In all this thought about hands, I can't help but think of my own... nothing significant about them. They are getting older and showing signs of their age... a few sun spots, a few scars, but nothing special... I never stopped to think about all they have held, or done... I look at them now and am overwhelmed with emotion. When my children were born, the doctors gave my children right to me...I was able to feel life from the very first moment. My hands trembled with exhaustion and the anticipation of feeling my babies for the first time... I stroked their little faces, I touched their little feet... I delighted in exploring the precious little body sleeping in my arms. As my babies grew, my hands continued to touch wonderfulness, they experienced life at its fullest... from hugs, baths, and blowing noses to dancing and playing army and barbies! Now I look at my hands and see not only the new beginnings I was so lucky to experience, but also endings. Declan died in my arms, my hands stroking every inch of him. I held death with my hands. What once was a scary thought... touching death... no longer was a concern. I would have had it no other way, my hands needed to be there, both for him and for myself. Declan and I... from beginning to end, from 'once upon a time' to 'the end'.  How lucky was I? I was the first person that held him when he entered this world and I was the last person to hold him as he left it... My hands did that. I did that. 

Jewel ~ Hands

Fitting song for my thoughts as of late.... 

Surviving the Ordinary

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass,
it's about learning to dance in the rain.

The ordinariness of my life is stunning to me... shocking.  There was a time when I was certain if I ever lost a child of mine that my life would end.  It would be catastrophic to my survival in this world. I was certain my heart could not stand to beat again after going through that pain.... Now I sit here, preparing for work and I am in awe at how life appears so ordinary.   Just mere days before my sweet Declan passed away, I was driving home and had the thought tumble across my mind, 'what if I never see my children's faces again?' I cried the entire trip and now here I am, on the computer, talking about my son's passing and I have no tears...  I am getting ready for work, my life hasn't stopped. My heart still beats. Even at my lowest when I wanted nothing more than to experience death myself, my heart kept going... my lungs kept breathing.... I didn't die.  When people say to me, "I don't know how you do it, I would never be able to go on." I want to ask them, "What choice do you think you have?" There are still bills to pay, relationships to tend to, a life still needing living.... At some point in our grieving process there has to come a time when we develop a new normal.... when life returns to ordinary...  When my days aren't consumed with death, sadness and anger.  There has to come a time when happiness returns.   We work daily towards keeping routines, at making time to talk and pray as a family for ourselves and for our Dex... we strive to regain normalcy.  We've reached 'ordinary' to such a degree it is almost boring, but our ordinary is still different than everyone else's.... not a waking hour goes by, NOT ONE, that I don't think about Declan....that I don't remind myself of what I have loss.  Not one evening goes by that we don't say his name and talk about our son/brother that we desperately miss.  As I get ready for work today, I know I will spend a great deal of time day-dreaming of my Declan... to most people it will appear to be very ordinary, to me, it is similar, but different than it used to be.  I am coming to terms with the fact that who I once was, who I am right now and who I will become are not the same person....I've evolved, I change, I will grow.  I go about life, I continue to live... everyday just another ordinary day that I have to survive.

You'll "just know"

When someone you love very deeply passes away... you are left wondering what to do with their stuff.... there are less 'things' to determine what to do with when your loved one is only 12 weeks old, but perhaps that is what makes it even harder. When do you decided to take down the crib?  How do you decide when to put away his bouncy chair?  What do you do with his toys?  I know, because I've read a lot about grief, there will come a time when I will "just know" when the time is right... similar to when you "just know" the one you are dating is the one.  Thank goodness we are built with a "just know" feature because, at this point, I'm not seeing that I will ever want to put his stuff away.  I've got the big stuff packed up, the swing, the rocker, the floor mat.... but his little crib is still in our room, so is his bouncy chair.  They sit there, a reminder of what we had and of course, what we no longer have. There are times when they hurt my heart, but there are other times when they make me smile.  When I look at his little crib, I remember the mornings when I would get out of the shower and peer over the edge of his bed, thinking he was sleeping, only to find him smiling up at me!  How my heart would swell with love at the sight of that smile....  most days however, they neither make me sad or make me happy, they are just there.  They are just a part of our every day lives...  Something I don't think about it, but know I would as soon as they were no longer there.  I am noticing though as time continues to slip away, some of his possessions are becoming almost idol-like.  I hear myself saying "Don't touch that, it was Declan's." "Put that away, it's special, it was your brothers."   I have caught myself of the verge of screaming "How dare you! That belongs to Declan!" As if his stuff is off limits to everyone but me.  As if preserving my memories are more important than helping my children remember their brother.  It is the ugly side of grief... often thinking no one else's pain is more important than yours.  I have to remind myself that Declan's things are just that.... things.  When I find Courty playing with something of his, I take a few deep breaths and wait until she is done and then I quickly pick it up and place it in the hope chest.  His things are precious to me.  We will get no more new 'things' of his.... what we have is all we get.  So yes, I want to keep his stuff special...but I know I have to be flexible and patient... yelling won't help, screaming only brings tears to both my kids and myself.  Turing my sweet Declan's possessions into idols is not healthy... I know that.  It is however, a knee jerk reaction to my attempts at preserving his memory.  Something I have to try hard to not do....  There will come a time, I have no doubt, that I will "just know" what to do with Declan's stuff... when my mind will lead me down the road of healing, to a place where Declan resides more in my heart than in his possessions.

Who You'd Be Today

When Declan passed away, it left a hole in our lives.  That is obvious. No one would be surprised to hear that.  The questions that have been haunting me are these: Where was Dex's place in this world?  What was his purpose?  How will the world know how amazing my son would have been?  Did Declan's death leave a hole in the world, not just our heart? I want to think it did.  I want to think that somewhere out there a little girls heart was heavy with 'something' on that valentines day because her future husband left this earth. I want to think there are little boys who would have been Declan's buddies aching just a little for the friend they will not have.  Of course, they would never know that someone they could have loved dearly isn't here anymore.  I want to think the impact he would have made on people would have been special.  I toy with the idea that maybe, just maybe Declan would have changed the world for the better and that the devil was so scared of his impact that he took his tiny life while had the chance... when Declan was young and helpless.  The unknown answers, the curiosity as to who he would have become is what dances across my mind and heart now. How can we know?  How can we guess? Like so many questions I have in my life... there are NO answers.  I imagine there will come a time when I stop questioning all together because I can't handle not having answers.  There is some silly country song called Who you'd be today that I have been listening to.... I actually really like it, even though country is not my music of choice.  I know there will forever be those questions "who would Dex be today"... what would he be doing right now?  What would he have named his  children?  What would he do for work?   Would he share in his mothers passion for education and for helping those who have no voices OR would he have his dad's intellect and passion for shaping and designing the earth around us?  Would he always have looked like his daddy or would he have started to take on some of my traits? I feel in my heart he would have been a funny little guy.... making us laugh and lifting our spirits when we were down.   Now all I have are those questions... and memories... now all I have is the knowledge that my son would have been someone, somebody in our world and I like to think that when any one of us leaves, we do leave a hole in this world.  I believe our world... this life of mine and yours, is better because Declan was a part of it!

Kenny Chesney ~ Who You'd Be Today

What makes a mother?

Gone yet not forgetten, although we are apart, your spirit lives within me, forever in my heart.

"Can you be a Mother when your baby is not with you?  I thought of you and closed my eyes and prayed to God today.  I asked “What makes a mother?” and I know I heard Him say, “A mother has a baby”.  This we know is true.  “But God, can you be a mother when your baby’s not with you?”  “Yes you can,” He replied with confidence in His voice.  “I give many women babies, when they leave is not their choice.  Some I send for a lifetime, and others for the day and some I send to feel your womb, but there’s no need to stay.” “I just don’t understand this God I want my baby to be here.”  He took a deep breath and cleared His throat, and then I saw the tear.  “I wish I could show you, what your child is doing today.  If you could see your child’s smile, with all the other children and say…”  “We go to earth to learn our lessons of love and life and fear.  My mommy loved me oh so much, I got to come straight here.  I feel so lucky to have a mom who had so much love for me.  I learned my lessons very quickly, my mommy set me free.  I miss my mommy oh so much but I visit her everyday.  When she goes to sleep on her pillows where I lay.  I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek, and whisper in her ear, “mommy don’t be sad today, I’m your baby and I’m here.”  “So you see my dear sweet ones, your children are okay.  Your babies are born here in my home and this is where they’ll stay.  They’ll wait for you with me until your lessons through.  And on the day that you come home they’ll be at the gates for you.  So now you see what makes a mother, It’s the feeling in your heart.  It’s the love you had so much of right from the very start.  Though some on earth may not realize you are a mother until their time is done.  They’ll be up here with me one day and know that you are the best one.”


I stumbled across this little story today and it touched my heart.  There is some truth to wondering how to be a mom when your child has passed away.  How do I keep Declan a part of our life and how to juggle Noah and Courty with my desire to somehow keep Declan ever present in our home...  Yes he passed away, but that isn't the point... the point is HE LIVED and I was lucky enough to be his mom and I want to do the best I can to preserve that relationship and those feelings.  

Ours for a little while, with Jesus forever

Traveling through the tunnel...

"Going through grief is like going through a tunnel. The bad news is the tunnel is dark. The good news is that once you enter into that tunnel, you are already on your way out."

Here we are at almost seven weeks... seven weeks tomorrow.  I really can't believe it.  It doesn't feel real.  It doesn't feel like this has really happened.  That sounds strange, but its true.  I can't believe it happened to us.  I wish I could turn back the hands of time and change the outcome... I wish I could wake up tomorrow and have Dex here.  That is probably pretty typical, what grieving parent wouldn't want that?  I still ache to hold him... to feel his baby fine hair upon my face.... to have his fat hands brush my fingers.  There is a longing to be with him, to have my family back to normal again.  We just miss him.  After Declan passed away, it didn't seem right to put his stuff in plastic totes, so we ordered a 'hope chest' and we finally got it this past weekend.  While we were putting Declan's things in the chest, each item brought back memories and made my longing so much more intense.  I just sat there holding the little jeans he wore the day he passed away and sobbed...wishing and praying for something to be different, for Declan to be using his things instead of packing them away into a box.... I've been told after life returns to normal for our friends and our family, we will continue to live in pain and sorrow... and that is when doubt and anger can creep into our lives.  I can totally understand that and see how it can happen.  There are times now when I literally want to punch a wall.  I want to pound my fist against the ground... anger is very close to the surface, wanting to unleash itself... to blame, to hurt, to scream and shout.  I am working hard on putting that anger back on God and hoping he can help me through both the painful longing and the anger.   There are two verses that have been my rock as of late... they are my life line!  "Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you, I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you" (Isaiah 46:4) and "I am the LORD, who heals you" (Exodus 15:26).  I heard once that "Going through grief is like going through a tunnel. The bad news is the tunnel is dark. The good news is that once you enter into that tunnel, you are already on your way out."  I'm in the dark tunnel right now, but I have faith that there will come a day when I am able to stand tall in the light and know the worse is over.... that God has sustained me and brought me to my path of healing. 

Our new Declan chest...