Skip to main content

Even if Not...

I noticed only recently something about myself. Something awful. Something hard.

I take so many pictures and videos of my kids.

What? That's not awful. Or hard.

So let me add this: I take so many pictures and videos of my kids because I fear I won't have enough when the day comes we have to bury them.

I hate that. Hate it.

I look at their faces as we sing our Happy Birthdays and open presents.

I make cute signs and dress them up for the beginning of the school year.

And then I click click click all the while, wondering, how hard is this going to be when they're gone?

 The thought is never an if. It's a when.

I hate that. Hate it.

I'm not negative, pessimistic, or morbid. I'm typically a joyful optimist.

A joyful optimist who has buried two children.

A paradox.

One that brings me such joy I can hardly contain the love I have for the people in my life. My love goes deeper than I could have ever thought possible...

because my loss has gone deeper than I could have ever imagined.

Most days I'm fine. I feel normal (whatever that may be).

And some days I'm drowning.

Some days I can't breathe as I put my little ones on those busses. As we see another birthday come and go.

Letting go of them each day as they explore the world without me, as they become the people they were made to be, watching them as they turn around and wave goodbye Mom...

it's an act of faith.

I pray over them, for their safety, and for the peace of my heart.

I pray as I remember the lives of two little boys that brought me to my knees as I begged for a miracle.

I pray knowing that I have not been promised a safe and happy life.

So I pull out my camera. I annoy my littles with the click click click.

And I pray to continue to find joy.

Even without these promises.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Unfixable

I have to share some things that are going to make some people uncomfortable. I'm okay with that, but I know it's not going to be easy to read because you might want to try to fix me. You can't. You can't "fix" these feelings. You can't pray them away. You can't tell me to "just trust God" and go on with your day. Well, I guess you  can. But I can't. I am not in a good place. I am not okay. I don't even want to be okay at this point. I tell Jamey almost every night that I want to go back to the hospital. I want to lay in that bed. I want to kiss and cuddle my son. I want to stroke his cheeks. I don't care if they're cold. I don't care if he'll never open his eyes again. I just want to go back there and rock him in my arms. I took pictures of the bruises on my arms and hands from being in the hospital. There are so few memories of my son, that I didn't even want to forget that part. My blood pressure w...
18 comments
Read more

Memories

I have videos of the entirety of Sam's life...so even if I forget them, I'll be able to see everything from those moments. The moments after he was born, however, are only images in my head. After Sam died and everyone had the chance to hold him, it was time to get some rest. Jamey's family went home, my sisters slept on the chair and couch in my room, and my parents went out to the car to sleep. The hotel attached to the hospital told my family they'd be charged full price for a room if they checked in at 5am but would need to check out at noon, so they opted not to get one. Jamey crawled into bed with me, Sam snuggled between us. He had been in heaven for over an hour, but to us it just seemed natural. We wanted to share one nap with our boy, before he was physically taken from us. It wasn't a peaceful sleep, of course. Hospital beds aren't made for 2 grown people. But we made it work. Phone calls were made, and we were told that the director of the Cr...
12 comments
Read more

Rain Clouds

I really don't want to feel this way for the rest of my life, but I'm afraid I might. I'll be perfectly fine for days, maybe even weeks, and then it just seems to hit me out of nowhere. Something huge is missing from my life. I feel homesick even though I'm home. Jamey and I packed a bag tonight for when we go up to the hospital. We read through the lists of suggestions from other moms, mostly of what to bring for baby. Only because we don't know what we'll need for her. We bought two outfits for Sam, bathed him once, and he only wore one diaper. I know the hospital has most of the stuff we'll need, but I like to bring a little extra. As much fun as it is to pack a coming home outfit, it's equally sad for us. I asked Jamey if any of this made him sad and he said, "yes, it does." I don't want the happy moments in my life to be overshadowed by this sadness that we have for Sam. Although I don't ever want to forget him in any way, ...
18 comments
Read more