mia...

I've been MIA lately. It seems like life has been ridiculously busy. I finally feel like things are starting to slow back down, thankfully. Nothing really new or exciting has been happening either, just busy. Sometimes busy is a blessing. Sometimes busy keeps my mind out of my own head. But sometimes, busy is just too much. Lately, our busy has been a little much for me.

Our busy lately has kept us away from home, or kept us away from each other. A lot. That is the kind of busy I don't do well with. I am still not where I want to spend time around a lot of other people. That has just been a personal choice for me. I will say though that I am doing a little better around people in general. We had several days worth of dance recitals last weekend and I enjoyed getting to see the kids show off what they have been working so hard on these last few months. Our oldest son has been having quite a few live shows lately and I have really enjoyed those as well. Listening to him do what he loves to do always puts a smile on my face. It takes me to a place I like to be. It removes me from my reality, even if only for a little while. I was able to get out one morning last week and spend some much needed adult only time with a sweet friend. That was nice, and I got pretty toes out of the deal too!

Things have been weird lately. I cannot really describe it. Weird seems to be the best description. It's kind of like I am walking around in a cloud of altered reality. I am not completely numb, but I am indifferent I guess. I seem to have less tolerance for outside things  than I did before and I am not completely sure how I feel about that. I mean, the lack of drama has been nice, but I don't feel like "me" either. There has to be a middle ground, and I guess eventually I will figure out what that is. It seems to take such effort to do anything outside the comfort of my home and my people. On the flip side, things between my husband and I have never been better. Not that they were ever bad, or even not good, just different. Deeper. I am heartbroken at the circumstances, but I am happy with the outcome of our relationship. That may sound weird, but I have heard in so many instances, that death of a child or certain traumas can, and do, tear relationships apart. I am happy that we are not part of those statistics.

We have faced a lot of trauma this year, not only the loss of a child, but a change in other areas of our personal life. Shortly after losing Holden, we were faced with making some hard, and possible life altering decisions. We have been struggling to keep our heads above water, praying for things to change. Praying for answers and for direction in our lives. We still don't know what those answers are, but we are praying that God will reveal them to us soon. I am beyond blessed to be able to walk through this life with my best friend, with him, I feel like I can do anything.  

I am asking you, if you are reading this, would you please pray for us? Pray that we will get the answers to the questions we have. Pray that we will receive the direction that we so desperately need right now. So many things are up in the air right now and there are so many unknowns.

Please know that we (our family, our marriage, our health) are ok. We are just facing some life changes that we are not ready to publicly share.

Thank you friends!

Memorial Service and Balloon Release for Holden Zayne

On our way to the church that morning, we had to make a stop to pick up some balloons to release. We were running late so we just stopped at our local grocery store instead of the party store I had hoped to visit. It wasn't her fault, but the lady helping us was not making me feel any better. She was moving so slow, I thought she would eventually go backward instead. I was on high alert, my mind was running a million miles an hour, my heart was racing and I was sweating. I was still getting dizzy when I stood for extended periods of time. The lady wanted to chat. She asked as we were picking colors, if there was anything we were trying to match. I told her we were going to a memorial service and balloon release for my son. She expressed her sympathies then said the unthinkable. She said to me, "Well, at least he's in a better place right now, and we all know everything happens for a reason." Before I knew what happened, I had snapped at her. I let her know real quick like that those were not the proper things to say to a grieving mother who was on the way to her son's funeral. She looked puzzled and quickly apologized. She finished up the balloons and we were on our way out of the store before she could say anything else.

We made it to the church early as we had hoped we would, met with the friend who was helping with the service and the pastor so we could go over a few things before we got started. We chose the location and they began to get things set up. Shorty after we arrived, friends and family started walking up. It was so hard being greeted with hugs and kind words. I needed them, but I just could not hold myself together. The service was perfect. It was exactly what I had hoped it would be. There were so many people there. We felt so loved and supported that day. I think it was what we needed to start our healing process. We had to have a chance to say a proper goodbye, while surrounded by our children, our family and our friends.

We chose these two poems for the service. We had our dear, sweet friends read them and they did an amazing job.

We're sending a balloon to heaven,
with a parcel on its string.
Be careful when you open it,
its full of beautiful things.
Inside are a million kisses,
wrapped up in a million hugs.
To say how much we miss you,
and to send you all our love.
We hold you close within our hearts

and there you will remain.

To walk with us throughout our life,

until we meet again.

The Broken Chain

We little knew that morning,

that God was going to call your name.

In life we loved you dearly.

In death we do the same.

It broke our hearts to lose you.

You did not go alone,

for part of us went with you,

the day God called you home.

You left us peaceful memories,

your love is still our guide

and though we cannot see you,

you are always at our side.

Our family chain is broken,

and nothing seems the same

but as God calls us one by one,

the chain will link again.

-Ron Tramner

After the service, everyone went out into the grassy area by where we were standing  to prepare to release our balloons. We had chosen a silver balloon for our angel, and we released that one first.

After we released our first balloon together, everyone watched as it floated up and out of sight. It was an intense feeling to release that balloon. In a sense, we were releasing our boy. We were telling him it was ok for him to go, and that we would be ok. I couldn't hold back the tears. Not that I would have ever chosen to walk this path, but since I was forced to, I couldn't have chosen a better person to walk with me, and sometimes carry me. My husband has always been my rock, but I cannot even begin to tell you how amazing he has been through all of this. Our relationship has changed since losing Holden. I feel more vulnerable, more needy and more fragile than I ever have before. I never knew what it was like to have to depend on anyone for anything. I have always been a strong person who could work through things on my own. Losing Holden was nothing like I have ever experienced before, I felt broken and helpless. I needed him to care for me and be tender with me. I needed him to wrap his arms around me and protect me like never before.

We are so thankful to everyone who came out to love on us and support us on this beautiful day. Those that could not be there in person, chose to support us from afar and sent me dozens of photos and videos of balloons being released all over The United States. We felt so overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support on that day as we said our goodbyes.

I put together a slide show of photos from the memorial. I hope you will watch. It still makes the tears flow every time I watch it. Just click play and the video will start. It's best viewed in full screen.

The song is Gone Too Soon, by Daughtry. It fits perfectly. I cannot listen to it without tears. I added the lyrics below.

Today could've been the day
That you blow out your candles
Make a wish as you close your eyes
Today could've been the day
Everybody was laughin'
Instead I just sit here and cry
Who would you be?
What would you look like
When you looked at me for the very first time?
Today could've been the next day of the rest of your life

Not a day goes by that I don't think of you
I'm always asking why this crazy world had to lose
Such a ray of light we never knew
Gone too soon, yeah

Would you have been president?
Or a painter, an author or sing like your mother
One thing is evident
Would've given all I had

Would've loved ya like no other
Who would you be?
What would you look like?
Would you have my smile and her eyes?
Today could've been the next day of the rest of your life

Not a day goes by that I don't think of you
I'm always asking why this crazy world had to lose
Such a ray of light we never knew
Gone too soon, yeah

Not a day goes by, oh
I'm always asking why, oh

Not a day goes by that I don't think of you
I'm always asking why this crazy world had to lose
Such a beautiful life we never knew
Gone too soon
You were gone too soon, yeah

And not a day goes by
That I don't think of you

Songwriters: MICHAEL BUSBEE, CHRIS DAUGHTRY

sadness and joy, part 4

We arrived Friday for surgery. We were rushed back immediately. I was once again blessed with a sweet nurse. She too had suffered a loss.

We hadn't been there long when my doctor came in. He explained what he was going to do, and the possible difficulties. Once again, heavy bleeding, damaged uterus, complete hysterectomy, and death. That is always a fun waiver to sign.

After surgery, I was in the recovery room for what seemed like forever. I could hear people talking around me, and I was freezing. I was ready to go home.

I was finally given the all clear to head home, all I had to do was get up, get dressed, make it to the bathroom and be successful at making a tinkle. Easier said than done. I haven't mentioned the broken foot and walking boot so far, but flashback a few weeks to January 6, I fell and broke my foot. Being a week out from having a baby and a few hours out of having surgery, this was no easy task. I was finally able to wrestle myself into the pajama pants that I had worn to the hospital, with the help of my amazing husband. The nurse was nice enough to wheel me over to the restroom where I was able to successfully complete my mission. The nurse called down to the lobby to have a volunteer wheel me down to the car. Why do hospital volunteers have to be so joyous and cheerful?? And why do nurses not warn them in times they really shouldn't be?? We had the sweetest elderly gentleman helping us out, normally this would not have been a problem, but he wanted to chat. He started the conversation off with, "Well young lady, how are YOU today?" and I lost it. I don't even think he realized it at first.  He began rambling on about I don't even know what, he tried repeatedly to engage me in small talk. When he finally took a breath and looked down, he realized that I was in tears. He asked me what was wrong, so I told him. Poor guy.

We received word sometime during the time we were at the hospital that Holden's ashes were finally ready. We left the hospital and grabbed a quick lunch for the road.

The drive from the hospital to the funeral home was the longest ride I think I have ever been on. When we finally arrived, I stumbled out of the car and hobbled inside with the help of my husband. The lady who greeted us was so kind, she met us at the door and asked if we were Holden's parents. We told her yes and she led us into her office. She grabbed a small plastic container and a nice folder. As she was grabbing the plastic container holding his ashes, she dropped it. Of course I was already in tears and this did not help one bit. She was apologetic, but it hurt my feelings. We took the plastic urn and had a quick peek inside. It was harder than I had imagined it would be. We took the folder containing his death certificate and his small plastic urn, and we left. I found a small piece of joy in my time of sadness. My son was finally back in my arms, though not the way I had longed for him to be.

We knew we could not keep his ashes in a generic plastic urn so once I was up to it, I started my search for the perfect resting spot for our boy. One day, while scrolling a Disney page on Facebook of all places, I saw a post that a lady had made about her "son" but the picture was of a soft, cuddly teddy bear. I read back through some of the comments and came to the conclusion that she had lost her son and that the teddy bear was an urn. I began to google "teddy bear urns" immediately. Thankfully, it didn't take long for me to find what I was looking for. There were many kinds to choose from, but I knew I that I did not want a regular looking teddy bear. I wanted him to look different. Finally after going back and forth between about four bears, I decided on one that I loved and I ordered it immediately. It didn't take long to arrive. Although, once the bear arrived, I did not immediately transfer his ashes, it was just too hard for me. I left the bear beside my bed for weeks.

Once I had gotten myself together enough, I contacted a dear friend and asked her if she would help me work on a memorial ceremony for my sweet Holden. Of course she agreed. I had a basic idea of what I wanted to do, I just had to work out the details, and that was just something I was not emotionally able to do. I told my precious friend that I knew I wanted to do a simple service and a balloon release, I left the rest up to her. She contacted the church where we were to have the service and set up a meeting with one of the pastors and she met us there to work out the date and a few details. I contacted a close family friend, who is a youth pastor, and asked him if he would officiate the service for us. He said he would be honored. I should probably mention, he is the brother of the two angels mentioned in a previous post, sister number one who arrived to pray with us the night we checked into the hospital, sister number two who arrived to pray with us just as we delivered our sweet Holden.

We knew we needed to be able to give everyone a chance to plan on joining us at the memorial, time for me to get stronger physically, and my super friend needed time to work out all of the details. We planned to have the service on Saturday, January 28, 2017.

When the day finally arrived, I was a wreck. I felt a little better physically, but emotionally, not so much. I was nervous about everything. What if no one came? What if I couldn't make it through? So many things were on my mind as we drove away from the house that morning.

sadness and joy, part 2

As if telling my husband that our son was gone wasn't already the hardest thing I had ever had to do, I had to somehow face my children. I knew that there was no way I could tell them.

I made it inside and went directly into my room. I climbed into bed and sobbed. I could hear my husband in the other room telling the children what had happened. I heard them burst into tears and sob themselves. It broke my heart not being able to comfort them and tell them things were going to be ok. It broke my heart knowing how much they had been looking forward to their little brother's arrival. My kids are amazing. They love with all they have and they were so excited to be getting a new baby brother.

I got a call shortly after being home, confirming my arrival time at the hospital. I somehow was able to get up, throw a bag together with what I thought we would need. I had no idea how long we would be gone. I had spoken with the doctor while still in the office about the process and what to expect, but no one knew how long it might take.

I had to arrange for my mother to come and care for the children in our absence. I still don't know how I made it through that conversation. I know it started with a text that probably read something like, 'I need you..." and she came.

Once we got to the hospital and checked in, we were told a little more about what we could expect. I was going to be given medicine to induce labor. My doctor wanted me to actually deliver Holden. How bittersweet that was. All of my other biological children were delivered via caesarean section. I was going to be given the chance to experience labor after all. He explained the possible dangers, but we both felt like I could do it. Some of the difficulties I was possibly facing were: emergency c-section, hysterectomy, ruptured uterus, blood transfusion, extreme blood loss and of course death.

Shortly after arriving, the medicine was started. I was supposed to receive an epidural immediately because my doctor felt that it would speed things along if I was more relaxed. The nurse in charge decided against it.

Some dear friends of ours, more like close family, came to us the night we arrived. They prayed over us and talked with us, cried with us and loved on us. I honestly don't think we would have made it through the first night without them. They were our shelter in the storm that night. They were our gift from God, he knew we needed them.

The contractions started that night, but they weren't strong. I did not sleep at all that night, not a single wink. That night, I had the most amazing angel of a nurse. She spent time with me, she hugged me, she loved on me and she prayed over me. She spent a lot of time in my room with me just talking to me and getting to know me. She was truly what I needed that night. All day the following day was a blur. The doctor came in to check on me in the morning and was not happy that the epidural had not been started. At some point, the anesthesiologist came in and got me all hooked up. By this time, the contractions were really starting to pick up, but I was just not progressing. We continued to discuss the possibility of a c-section. I did not want to have to do it that way. I was already angry to be going through all of this anyway, I certainly did not want to have a major surgery on top of it all. I prayed over and over for God to allow me to deliver Holden without surgical intervention. I had my friends and family praying as well.

We had a few visitors during the course of the day and night to help keep our minds from getting stuck in the present. When the doctor came by after work to check on me, I still had not progressed like he would have hoped. He basically gave me until Thursday morning to deliver on my own. Throughout the course of the evening and overnight, I had to have my medicine adjusted. I don't do well with anesthesia, my heartrate likes to slow down to a dangerous rate, and my blood pressure likes to bottom out. Apparently I was scaring everyone with my slow breathing and deep sleep. I was rather enjoying my lack of consciousness and care; and the great sleep I was getting. Sometime overnight, the contractions got to the point that I didn't have a break between them. The nurse finally told me I was complete and ready to deliver once the doctor arrived. I felt such a huge sigh of relief.

The doctor arrived sometime around 7am, just as were both finally getting some good sleep. After chatting with me for a few minutes, he checked me and said we were ready. Holden was born sleeping at 7:55am on Thursday, January 12, 2017. He was perfect, he was beautiful and he looked just like Ian and Landyn.

In the midst of the chaos around us, we heard a knock at the door. God had sent the most precious angel to our rescue. She came to lay hands on us and pray for us. At the time, she had no idea what was happening inside. She had no idea how badly we needed her at that exact moment. She prayed over us, hugged and kissed us, told us she loved us and left as quickly as she had come.

We had the hospital chaplain come in and perform a private ceremony for us. It was perfect. After the ceremony, we were able to spend some time alone with our sweet boy. The hospital sent a photographer in to get some pictures for us and we were able to take some of our own. We ended up getting to spend about an hour and a half with our boy.

We said hello and goodbye to him in the same day. Saying our final goodbye was the hardest thing we have ever had to do.

I didn't want to kiss you goodbye,

that was the trouble;

I wanted to

kiss you goodnight

And there's a lot of difference.

As if saying goodbye and letting him go wasn't hard enough, we still had to fill out paperwork to be able to obtain a DEATH certificate for our son and allow the funeral home to come and pick him up. We had to sign an authorization to have him cremated. We should have been filling out paperwork for a BIRTH certificate; no one should have to go through what we have this past year.

to be continued...

elephants

This is the post I made on my personal Facebook page about a week ago.

Do you ever feel like you are the elephant in the room? I was talking about how I feel after losing my sweet Holden.

I don't want to be around people for that reason. No one talks to me because they don't know what to say. Or, they do talk to me and never mention Holden, and act like nothing ever happened. Both options suck.

I want to talk about my sweet boy. I miss him. Acting like he never existed only makes me sad. Sure, I might cry when I talk about him or what I am going through, but that is a better kind of cry than the one I do at night in the darkness while curled up in my bed alone.

If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died--you're not reminding them. They didn't forget they died. What you're reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and that is a great gift. -Elizabeth Edwards

Over the course of the last few months, I have been put into some awkward situations. I know it is never intentional. I know that my family and friends love me, and most likely still do not know what to say. I get that. I have been there too. I just ask you all to consider my feelings. I lost a child, I am hurting, and I am lonely. I know no one will ever truly understand what I have been through, or what I am still going through. I don't expect that, but what I do expect is respect and friendship.

I have been to numerous events recently where I have felt like an outsider. Some have been family events, some with friends and some with just acquaintances. At each event, I have had a small handful, at most, of people come up and even acknowledge me. All of those very select few, greeted me with the warmest, sweetest hug and encouraging words, and I am so very thankful for them. They will never truly know what they did for me in those very tough situations where I wanted to run to the nearest exit and never return. The others...well, lets see, for the most part, they avoided making eye contact with me. For the few that accidentally looked in my direction, I got a quick hello or head nod. Then there have been a few that when I approached them, there was a small, very forced, uncomfortable exchange of pleasantries. The basic, "Hi, how have are you?" You know the ones, the ones that really aren't asking how you ARE, it is more of a thing to say during small talk. Obviously I do not expect anyone to go out of their way for me, or repeatedly treat me like I am fragile. That is not at all what I am asking for. At all. What I am talking about is when we see each other for the first time since my loss. Once again, I do not want special treatment, and that is not what I am asking for. I just do not want to be treated like I have a disease or like you've never seen me before.

This is all so new to me. I am an extreme extrovert and my world has come crashing down around me. I feel like I have not only lost my son, but I feel like I have lost friends and loved ones as well. I feel like a stranger in my own skin. I don't know where I fit in anymore. I have had to face demons I did not even know existed. I am just asking for a little empathy and respect.

In case you are looking for the right thing to say to me:

I'm sorry.

I love you.

I don't know what to say.

It's that simple. Nothing you say can bring him back or make me feel better. I don't need a long drawn out explanation of why things happen the way they do. There is no reason.

Just love me and respect me enough to acknowledge that I am in the room and that I am still hurting. My son DID exist, and to me he STILL DOES, my son is loved just as much as my other children, he is just as much a part of my life as they are, he is still, and always will be, one of my beloved children. I love him and I miss him.