Three years ago on October 1, I was happily pregnant with my third child. I had just announced our pregnancy, or was getting close to it, I can't remember the dates exactly. Old age, I guess. :)
The boys were thrilled to be big brothers. Alex and I wondered if we might have a little girl this time, but we felt that our sweet baby was probably a boy. I was shopping for a cute shirt to wear to my Tri Sigma Homecoming Event. I hadn't been back in years and looked forward to seeing all of my sisters again. The weather was just starting to turn--leaves, temperatures--yes, everything was lining up to be a beautiful fall.
And then came my 12.5 week in-depth ultrasound on October 21 where we learned of Jacob's "fatal diagnosis". He was diagnosed with Trisomy 13. And then the horrific news that no parent wants to hear hit us on October 25, 2010. Our baby's heart had stopped beating. Our son, whom we named Jacob Alexander, had died at exactly 13 weeks. It was a Monday.
What followed was a whirlwind of emotions. I felt tossed about in a storm that had taken me completely by surprise. Eventually and thankfully, the light shown again and I moved towards healing.
Three years later as I find myself drawn towards my Jacob and reflecting on what happened back then, I'm caught up in another storm. The weather is starting to turn. We can't wait to take the boys' outdoor fall photo shoot as I have every year since they were babies. We are lining up fall festivals to attend--one of our favorite pastimes in the fall! The boys can't wait for Halloween and keep changing their minds about what costumes they'll wear. And with October kicking off the National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, I'm excited to take this time to remember my sweet babies and to reach out to so many women who've lost too...through cards, supportive posts on facebook and prayer.
But there is this storm that I mentioned...this storm's winds are blurring everything that had been lining up to be yet another beautiful fall. I'm already fighting tears. And this one doesn't just affect me, it affects countless Americans. It is the Government Shutdown that just happened today.
Instead of seeing the colors of fall, right now the color I'm focused on mainly green...that is, cash. We have no idea if this shutdown, i.e. my husband's furlough, will last for several days, weeks, months? Will we get a paycheck next Friday? How much? Will he be paid retroactively? We don't know. No one knows.
So many unanswered questions remind me of how I felt three years ago...while these two storms are very different, in many ways they are the same. You are left struggling. You are left with so many questions---why? why did this have to happen? why me??? I remember asking the same thing when I lost Jacob. Why did we get pregnant if my eggs were so "old" that we were simply going to lose our precious child? How will I get through this? What do I do next?
Wow, I had no idea I'd be facing the same feelings three years later. I'm left wondering why our government can't "play nice"...why they continue to sacrifice us and so many families to prove their points...I'm left asking every "how" question in the book. How on EARTH will we get through this? How will we survive if money doesn't start coming back in? We just came off of the summer furlough...I mean, literally, we JUST CAME OFF of it. And now, this??
And lastly, what do I do next? My planning self wants to revamp our budget...trouble is, what do I budget? If there is potentially no money coming in, what do I budget? What? How? Why?
My friends, I wish so much that I had answers. I wish that I had them for me and for any one of you who are in a similar boat being tossed about right now. These storms suck. Yes, they just suck. I hate them.
But as I think back to the storm three years ago, I find myself holding on to one thing. I survived. I made it through. Somehow, with God's help, with His Steady Hand on my heart, I made it through. I found hope. I found joy. I found peace. I love remembering my Jacob. I love thinking about him. I love helping other baby loss moms now as they find themselves stumbling through this journey of loss.
I know God is with me. He is with my family during this storm. While I'm struggling with my planning self who desperately wants to find answers--to prepare for every 'what if' under the sun--I know I have to just give this all to God. I have to give Him every last piece of it.
Do I know how to do that? No. I will be honest. I don't. But I know it's what I am to do...somehow. I will keep praying. I will cry. I will know that my Father hears every pain in my heart. And that's enough. Somehow I know that's enough. I don't have to be perfect in my prayers. I don't have to quote the best Bible verses. I know He takes me as I am with all of my flaws and worried and with my over-dependency on myself...He takes me with all of my "what ifs" and panicking moments.
So tonight on Day 1 of the Government Shutdown I go to bed with those feelings on my heart. I want to close my eyes and drift into a peaceful sleep that only God can bring. I know He will guide our family through this storm. And, yes. October and all of the beautiful things in it aren't going anywhere. It is still a beautiful season that our family will enjoy as much as possible. It still will be full of candy corn, Kit Kats and Reese Cups. It will still be a chance for me to write about Jacob, to share his story and to remember all of those precious babies lost.
Tonight I pray for my blurry and weary eyes to be cleared so that I may see only the beauty this month. I want to see red and gold leaves. I want to see my children's faces erupt in laughter as they act out their Halloween costumed character (whoever they pick). I want to see Jacob's balloon launch high into the sky on his anniversary. And I trust God for the rest.
With much love for you my friends, however this month finds you...
Kim
Heart
Mommy's heart for Baby Jacob
Showing posts with label journey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label journey. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Thursday, October 20, 2011
One Year Ago--'A Mother's Journey' is created--October 21st--One Year Ago--"I'm Sorry" Changed My Life
Hi Friends. Well, so much for my great intentions with regards to my blog this month! :) What can I say? So many things I had planned for this month have changed as a result of unforeseen difficulties. I'm sure I'm not writing about anything new and we've all been there. I am sorry to those of you who have been checking my blog for updates, I really hadn't planned to be absent for so long. I hope you'll stay with me and forgive me for the delays!
The first thing I want to tell you is that I do plan to continue what I wanted to do on my blog this month into November. I have so many posts that I need to write about, more giveaways to do, etc. If there's one thing I've learned on this journey throughout the last year it's to allow myself to do what I need to do when I need to do it. If that means staying up late to write a blog post in order to express something that's on my heart, then I do it. If that means forgiving myself and allowing myself an "extension" so-to-speak for "Jacob's month" (October), well, then I am doing that now. There is so much in a journey like this that you simply cannot plan for. You never know when the grief may hit you harder...you never know when the struggle to conceive again may overwhelm you...you just never know.
Tonight though, I simply could not go to bed without writing. One year ago today was a pivotal day in my life. It was the day that this blog was born. As grateful as I am for the chance to write and to reach others, I'd give it all up if I could simply change one key thing from October 21, 2010. I would change the diagnosis of my sweet little baby to one of "everything is fine" rather than the two words every parent dreads hearing..."I'm sorry."
Where was I last year at this time? I remember being so excited to be nearing the end of my first trimester. I hate to complain but I'm human and I remember being cranky from time to time during those early months of my pregnancy (maybe I was cranky a lot, who knows!). If you've been keeping up with my blog since last year, you might remember me saying that everything stunk. Seriously! It did! I was so sensitive to smells. I could smell things that the average person couldn't. And, of course, every smell made me nauseous.
Last year at this time too I had just recently announced my pregnancy on Facebook and to family and friends. The congratulations were so joyous and I truly felt like everyone was sharing in our good news. I had even been lucky enough to have made it back to my school for Homecoming and to participate in a ceremony to dedicate my sorority's new house. I was so goofy back then. I knew I was showing a bit--guess I'll blame some of that on my previous two c-sections!--and wanted to find a cute top to wear when I saw my sisters--most that I hadn't seen in almost 20 years! I didn't want to look like I was wearing a tent, but wanted to wear something to show where I was still skinny and well, where I wasn't so skinny.
I picked out a new blue shirt and remember having a wonderful time that beautiful fall day and just 5 days prior to Oct. 21. Here is a photo from that very fun Saturday...a picture of me (wearing my blue shirt, little belly sticking out) with some of my dear sorority sisters. Those of us in the photo were some of our chapter's charter members who were able to attend. When did we colonize at Kent? Sometimes 1990 seems like just yesterday!
We were all so happy to see each other. I loved renewing old friendships and catching up. The day was so much fun--we all watched the Homecoming Parade, I showed Alex where I used to live, we had a great time touring our chapter's new home (seen behind us in picture above) and then we took the boys to tour the part of KSU where the May 4, 1970 shooting had occurred. I had never seen all of the tour spots as they were new to the school. It was such a beautiful fall day to spend on campus with the leaves turning gold and the black squirrels darting about.
And then. Everything beautiful about fall turned ugly just a few days later on Thursday, October 21. Here's just a sample from my very first blog post which I started that evening after my appointment at 12.5 weeks for an in-depth ultrasound:
With a sigh, he (the doctor) looked at me and started by saying, "We have some serious issues here. There are some severe problems." He went on to list things like: thickness behind the baby's neck, extra digits, a protrusion in the abdominal wall and a cleft lip. Never in my life could I have imagined hearing such things. He said that while we didn't know for 100% sure, chances were highly likely that my baby had Trisomy 13 or 18, but he was pretty sure it was Trisomy 13.
Suddenly the the genetic counselor's information and diagrams came flashing back in my head. I was thinking, "Wait a minute, isn't Trisomy 13 the most rare of the chromosomal abnormalities that a baby can have?" People sometimes say that time stops when they receive horrible news. I wish I could say that time did stop. I'd give anything if it just would have stopped. It didn't. It just kept ticking on with each second, each minute getting more and more unbelievable and awful with what the doctor told me.
The doctor put his hand on my arm and said, "I'm very sorry." Again, more red flags went off in my head. It was almost like I had to pump him for the 'bottom line.' It was then that he told me that my baby had an 80% chance of not making it to term. It was difficult for me to form words at this point, but I asked, "So, are you saying I'm just waiting for my baby to die? That it's just a matter of when and how?" He said, "Yes."
I don't think any woman ever wants to use the words, 'baby' and 'die' in the same sentence. It should be illegal. It was almost surreal as I used the words. The doctor said I would more than likely miscarry. Again, more shock. Don't the statistics say that once you see the baby's heartbeat, once you reach the end of the first trimester, you have something like a 95% chance that everything is good and that you won't miscarry? What good are statistics like that? Again, I asked, "So, I'm waiting for my baby to die? Is that what you're saying?"
My mind raced ahead through the next 6 mos. Trick-or-Treating is next weekend. My mom's birthday is this weekend. Thanksgiving. My husband out of town for various November weekends. Christmas. Do I just continue to live my life waiting for this awful thing to happen to me? It could happen at any time. How? How do I do that? How do you continue to get bigger, wear maternity clothes and at a time when you should be getting things ready for the baby, instead prepare yourself for your baby's death?? How? How do I do that?
If you'd like to read more about the start of my journey, please feel free to read the rest of the post from October 21, 2010 by clicking on that link in the sidebar.
How fast things change. Here I had just announced my pregnancy right before my trip home to school, I had just seen my sorority sisters who were full of congratulating hugs and I came back to what I thought would be a fresh start into my second trimester only instead to be forced into a journey that I never asked to take.
Who does ask to go on this journey? Not many people would, I don't think. While I didn't choose this journey for myself and my family, I would not change a thing that's happened in the last year. Well, obviously if I could have had Jacob live, that's an easy one--of course I would have done that. But, aside from that, I do not have any regrets. For whatever reasons, God chose me for this journey and I am taking it one day at a time. In the early days of losing Jacob or on some bad days, I take it one minute of a time. That's all I can do and so far it's worked. I have no idea what the "end" of this journey will look like or even if there is one.
I think one thing that's helped me make it through the past year since receiving Jacob's fatal diagnosis and then losing him has been to not fight this journey. As much as I would have loved to have denied what was happening, to hide from it or to lash out at it constantly, what good would it do me?
I think back to Oct. 21, 2010 when I was so blunt in telling Sammy that his baby brother was going to die. In his caring way, he had told me, "The baby will be okay, Mommy. Don't cry." I wouldn't have it. I told him, "No, honey. The baby is very sick and is going to die." Sometimes I cringe when I think about my response. How could I have been so insensitive to my sweetheart Sammy? But then other times when I think about it I know I did it because I had to. I had to face this journey head on if I was going to make it through. Even my mom was in utter shock when I called her with the news in the car. Again, she tried to provide the ever supportive, "Well, I'm sure he'll be okay." I remember yelling and crying, "No! No, he won't, Mom! He is going to die!" I needed everyone around me to know the truth. I needed them to share the truth with me. Only in sharing in the truth about sweet Jacob would I or would any of us make it through...and make it through together.
From that day on, everyone was concerned and supportive. Well, most everyone. We'll leave that lie for now. Even my loving Sammy offered me hugs to catch my tears. I knew he loved his little brother too and together our family shared in the uncertainty that came with that dreaded doctor visit and Jacob's fatal diagnosis.
Of course I prayed for the opposite. I prayed constantly that God would show all of these doctors with their stupid statistics. That God would save my baby--that he would be a miracle baby and would live to be born and to be kissed in his mommy's arms. I dreamt about it too. How much I wanted to show them all that they were wrong! Jacob would live and be an example of God's wondrous saving power and love!
I knew in my heart though that God had a plan. I just didn't know my part in that plan. Would his plan include my son living for a bit longer? Much longer? To be born? To only live for a few months into his first year? I had no idea. It was like I was setting sail into an unknown sea where there was a tumultuous wave everywhere I looked. How would I make it through? I had no idea.
But I had to try. For the sake of my family--for Alex, for Sammy, for Benny...even for Jacob--I had to try to make it through that storm. I had to be strong.
All I can say is from October 21 on I started thinking about all of this. I didn't have answers but I was going to get them as soon as I could in order to regain some sort of control because when I left the doctor's office last year, I felt like I was caught up in a whirling tornado that was thrashing all over the place. I had so many questions. Scenarios in my head. Fears. Tears. Anger. Sadness. And what did I leave the doctor's office with? Pamphlets? Support groups? Anything to help me make sense out of what had just happened?
Nothing. For the most part, I left that awful place with nothing. I left only with three ultrasound pictures that I had to ask the technician for over and over--I still think that she wasn't going to do them because of Jacob's fatal condition. Did she really think that I didn't care to have them after hearing the news??? I also left with stupid printout that the genetic counselor ran to get for me when she saw me come out of the ultrasound room. I remember asking her if she had anything about Trisomy 13 so I could begin to educate myself on what was happening to my son. She said no but that she'd find something. Do you know what she gave me? A one-page sheet which was a technical summary of Trisomy 13. It's all she could find. You are a genetic counselor who grills people on their genetic family history and you don't even have packets of information assembled to hand to patients when they need the information? I couldn't even understand what she gave me. That's what I walked out of there with. More questions than answers and certainly no help from the doctor's office. So I was going to get the answers myself.
One question that I've yet to find an answer to is about the "odds" in pregnancy. What are the chances for a miscarriage/stillbirth/etc. The "1 in 4" at times seems to be conflicting with so many things that you read. To this day I find myself HATING statistics. I will never forget how after I had sat through an hour-long meeting with a genetic counselor answering every question under the sun that she told me, "Don't worry about all of this. You have a 98% chance everything is fine." This was just prior to my ultrasound. Ninety-eight percent. That's pretty good, huh?
Really??? How is it that I fell in the 2%? I guess someone has to, right? Unless I'm the "1 in 4?" And then of all things for my precious little one to have, it's one of the most rare chromosomal abnormalities? Well. Let's just say when someone now quotes statistics about how rare things are, I frequently react with sarcasm.
So. It's officially one year since I received the horrible news that my precious son wasn't going to make it. One whole year. One year of tears, of sadness, of anger, of confusion, of questions...and also one year of discovery, of learning, of reaching out, of helping others...and lastly, one year of love and of hope. I love my son. I love Jacob so much. I will never stop loving him nor will I stop talking about him. He was a gift from God and I treasure him daily. I never regret that we got pregnant. I carried my son for 13 weeks and I now treasure every one of those weeks.
October 21, 2010? A day of horrible sadness for sure. But also a day that I CHOOSE to remember something else. I CHOOSE to remember Jacob when he was alive and showing his mommy that he was very much ALIVE during the ultrasound. I CHOOSE to remember those moments with a smile on my face. Jacob was kicking. He was squirming. He was punching. He was opening and closing his mouth to practice for when he would breathe someday. I loved every minute of that part of my ultrasound! How I wish I had a video of it! That was the last time that I saw my sweet little baby alive. But it's not the last time that I will see him, for I will see him again. And I will kiss every squirmy inch of him when I do.
Much of this year has been about choices. I have learned that I must choose how I will react to things. Sure, some days I will cry because that's all I can do. Crying is the only choice sometimes...like on the day you find out that your baby probably will not survive. That's what I did last October 21. I cried. I panicked. I yelled. I moped. But other days when I can make that choice, I choose to be grateful for my baby, for the 13 weeks that we had with him and for the opportunity to see him so clearly that day.
October 21, 2010. Where were you on that day? I was at the very beginning of my journey and one that is common to so many, unfortunately. It's not just my journey. It is "A Mother's Journey"...full of loss, full of love and full of hope.
Thank you for sharing in this journey with me, my friends.
With love to my sweet little Jacob--Mommy remembers seeing you on October 21! I know you wanted me to see you. You wanted me to watch every movement you made--to laugh, to cry because I loved watching you so much. You were here, my sweet baby. Mommy loved seeing you and always will dream of the day when I can hold you in my arms.
Kim
*Special thanks to Small Bird Studio for the beautiful graphic about strength!
The first thing I want to tell you is that I do plan to continue what I wanted to do on my blog this month into November. I have so many posts that I need to write about, more giveaways to do, etc. If there's one thing I've learned on this journey throughout the last year it's to allow myself to do what I need to do when I need to do it. If that means staying up late to write a blog post in order to express something that's on my heart, then I do it. If that means forgiving myself and allowing myself an "extension" so-to-speak for "Jacob's month" (October), well, then I am doing that now. There is so much in a journey like this that you simply cannot plan for. You never know when the grief may hit you harder...you never know when the struggle to conceive again may overwhelm you...you just never know.
Tonight though, I simply could not go to bed without writing. One year ago today was a pivotal day in my life. It was the day that this blog was born. As grateful as I am for the chance to write and to reach others, I'd give it all up if I could simply change one key thing from October 21, 2010. I would change the diagnosis of my sweet little baby to one of "everything is fine" rather than the two words every parent dreads hearing..."I'm sorry."
Where was I last year at this time? I remember being so excited to be nearing the end of my first trimester. I hate to complain but I'm human and I remember being cranky from time to time during those early months of my pregnancy (maybe I was cranky a lot, who knows!). If you've been keeping up with my blog since last year, you might remember me saying that everything stunk. Seriously! It did! I was so sensitive to smells. I could smell things that the average person couldn't. And, of course, every smell made me nauseous.
Last year at this time too I had just recently announced my pregnancy on Facebook and to family and friends. The congratulations were so joyous and I truly felt like everyone was sharing in our good news. I had even been lucky enough to have made it back to my school for Homecoming and to participate in a ceremony to dedicate my sorority's new house. I was so goofy back then. I knew I was showing a bit--guess I'll blame some of that on my previous two c-sections!--and wanted to find a cute top to wear when I saw my sisters--most that I hadn't seen in almost 20 years! I didn't want to look like I was wearing a tent, but wanted to wear something to show where I was still skinny and well, where I wasn't so skinny.
I picked out a new blue shirt and remember having a wonderful time that beautiful fall day and just 5 days prior to Oct. 21. Here is a photo from that very fun Saturday...a picture of me (wearing my blue shirt, little belly sticking out) with some of my dear sorority sisters. Those of us in the photo were some of our chapter's charter members who were able to attend. When did we colonize at Kent? Sometimes 1990 seems like just yesterday!
We were all so happy to see each other. I loved renewing old friendships and catching up. The day was so much fun--we all watched the Homecoming Parade, I showed Alex where I used to live, we had a great time touring our chapter's new home (seen behind us in picture above) and then we took the boys to tour the part of KSU where the May 4, 1970 shooting had occurred. I had never seen all of the tour spots as they were new to the school. It was such a beautiful fall day to spend on campus with the leaves turning gold and the black squirrels darting about.
And then. Everything beautiful about fall turned ugly just a few days later on Thursday, October 21. Here's just a sample from my very first blog post which I started that evening after my appointment at 12.5 weeks for an in-depth ultrasound:
With a sigh, he (the doctor) looked at me and started by saying, "We have some serious issues here. There are some severe problems." He went on to list things like: thickness behind the baby's neck, extra digits, a protrusion in the abdominal wall and a cleft lip. Never in my life could I have imagined hearing such things. He said that while we didn't know for 100% sure, chances were highly likely that my baby had Trisomy 13 or 18, but he was pretty sure it was Trisomy 13.
Suddenly the the genetic counselor's information and diagrams came flashing back in my head. I was thinking, "Wait a minute, isn't Trisomy 13 the most rare of the chromosomal abnormalities that a baby can have?" People sometimes say that time stops when they receive horrible news. I wish I could say that time did stop. I'd give anything if it just would have stopped. It didn't. It just kept ticking on with each second, each minute getting more and more unbelievable and awful with what the doctor told me.
The doctor put his hand on my arm and said, "I'm very sorry." Again, more red flags went off in my head. It was almost like I had to pump him for the 'bottom line.' It was then that he told me that my baby had an 80% chance of not making it to term. It was difficult for me to form words at this point, but I asked, "So, are you saying I'm just waiting for my baby to die? That it's just a matter of when and how?" He said, "Yes."
I don't think any woman ever wants to use the words, 'baby' and 'die' in the same sentence. It should be illegal. It was almost surreal as I used the words. The doctor said I would more than likely miscarry. Again, more shock. Don't the statistics say that once you see the baby's heartbeat, once you reach the end of the first trimester, you have something like a 95% chance that everything is good and that you won't miscarry? What good are statistics like that? Again, I asked, "So, I'm waiting for my baby to die? Is that what you're saying?"
My mind raced ahead through the next 6 mos. Trick-or-Treating is next weekend. My mom's birthday is this weekend. Thanksgiving. My husband out of town for various November weekends. Christmas. Do I just continue to live my life waiting for this awful thing to happen to me? It could happen at any time. How? How do I do that? How do you continue to get bigger, wear maternity clothes and at a time when you should be getting things ready for the baby, instead prepare yourself for your baby's death?? How? How do I do that?
If you'd like to read more about the start of my journey, please feel free to read the rest of the post from October 21, 2010 by clicking on that link in the sidebar.
How fast things change. Here I had just announced my pregnancy right before my trip home to school, I had just seen my sorority sisters who were full of congratulating hugs and I came back to what I thought would be a fresh start into my second trimester only instead to be forced into a journey that I never asked to take.
Who does ask to go on this journey? Not many people would, I don't think. While I didn't choose this journey for myself and my family, I would not change a thing that's happened in the last year. Well, obviously if I could have had Jacob live, that's an easy one--of course I would have done that. But, aside from that, I do not have any regrets. For whatever reasons, God chose me for this journey and I am taking it one day at a time. In the early days of losing Jacob or on some bad days, I take it one minute of a time. That's all I can do and so far it's worked. I have no idea what the "end" of this journey will look like or even if there is one.
I think one thing that's helped me make it through the past year since receiving Jacob's fatal diagnosis and then losing him has been to not fight this journey. As much as I would have loved to have denied what was happening, to hide from it or to lash out at it constantly, what good would it do me?
I think back to Oct. 21, 2010 when I was so blunt in telling Sammy that his baby brother was going to die. In his caring way, he had told me, "The baby will be okay, Mommy. Don't cry." I wouldn't have it. I told him, "No, honey. The baby is very sick and is going to die." Sometimes I cringe when I think about my response. How could I have been so insensitive to my sweetheart Sammy? But then other times when I think about it I know I did it because I had to. I had to face this journey head on if I was going to make it through. Even my mom was in utter shock when I called her with the news in the car. Again, she tried to provide the ever supportive, "Well, I'm sure he'll be okay." I remember yelling and crying, "No! No, he won't, Mom! He is going to die!" I needed everyone around me to know the truth. I needed them to share the truth with me. Only in sharing in the truth about sweet Jacob would I or would any of us make it through...and make it through together.
From that day on, everyone was concerned and supportive. Well, most everyone. We'll leave that lie for now. Even my loving Sammy offered me hugs to catch my tears. I knew he loved his little brother too and together our family shared in the uncertainty that came with that dreaded doctor visit and Jacob's fatal diagnosis.
Of course I prayed for the opposite. I prayed constantly that God would show all of these doctors with their stupid statistics. That God would save my baby--that he would be a miracle baby and would live to be born and to be kissed in his mommy's arms. I dreamt about it too. How much I wanted to show them all that they were wrong! Jacob would live and be an example of God's wondrous saving power and love!
I knew in my heart though that God had a plan. I just didn't know my part in that plan. Would his plan include my son living for a bit longer? Much longer? To be born? To only live for a few months into his first year? I had no idea. It was like I was setting sail into an unknown sea where there was a tumultuous wave everywhere I looked. How would I make it through? I had no idea.
But I had to try. For the sake of my family--for Alex, for Sammy, for Benny...even for Jacob--I had to try to make it through that storm. I had to be strong.
I tried to start planning for all of the "hows" and "what ifs" that very day. Do we go out of town for my mom's birthday? How do we celebrate mom's birthday with my brother and sister-in-law who also just announced they were pregnant? What happens if the baby dies while Alex is out of town? What if the baby makes it past 20 weeks only to die shortly after? Will I have a c-section? Will I be able to have more children? What if he made it to be born only to die immediately after he took his first breath? What if he only makes it a few days or weeks? How would I cope? How? How? How?
All I can say is from October 21 on I started thinking about all of this. I didn't have answers but I was going to get them as soon as I could in order to regain some sort of control because when I left the doctor's office last year, I felt like I was caught up in a whirling tornado that was thrashing all over the place. I had so many questions. Scenarios in my head. Fears. Tears. Anger. Sadness. And what did I leave the doctor's office with? Pamphlets? Support groups? Anything to help me make sense out of what had just happened?
Nothing. For the most part, I left that awful place with nothing. I left only with three ultrasound pictures that I had to ask the technician for over and over--I still think that she wasn't going to do them because of Jacob's fatal condition. Did she really think that I didn't care to have them after hearing the news??? I also left with stupid printout that the genetic counselor ran to get for me when she saw me come out of the ultrasound room. I remember asking her if she had anything about Trisomy 13 so I could begin to educate myself on what was happening to my son. She said no but that she'd find something. Do you know what she gave me? A one-page sheet which was a technical summary of Trisomy 13. It's all she could find. You are a genetic counselor who grills people on their genetic family history and you don't even have packets of information assembled to hand to patients when they need the information? I couldn't even understand what she gave me. That's what I walked out of there with. More questions than answers and certainly no help from the doctor's office. So I was going to get the answers myself.
One question that I've yet to find an answer to is about the "odds" in pregnancy. What are the chances for a miscarriage/stillbirth/etc. The "1 in 4" at times seems to be conflicting with so many things that you read. To this day I find myself HATING statistics. I will never forget how after I had sat through an hour-long meeting with a genetic counselor answering every question under the sun that she told me, "Don't worry about all of this. You have a 98% chance everything is fine." This was just prior to my ultrasound. Ninety-eight percent. That's pretty good, huh?
Really??? How is it that I fell in the 2%? I guess someone has to, right? Unless I'm the "1 in 4?" And then of all things for my precious little one to have, it's one of the most rare chromosomal abnormalities? Well. Let's just say when someone now quotes statistics about how rare things are, I frequently react with sarcasm.
So. It's officially one year since I received the horrible news that my precious son wasn't going to make it. One whole year. One year of tears, of sadness, of anger, of confusion, of questions...and also one year of discovery, of learning, of reaching out, of helping others...and lastly, one year of love and of hope. I love my son. I love Jacob so much. I will never stop loving him nor will I stop talking about him. He was a gift from God and I treasure him daily. I never regret that we got pregnant. I carried my son for 13 weeks and I now treasure every one of those weeks.
October 21, 2010? A day of horrible sadness for sure. But also a day that I CHOOSE to remember something else. I CHOOSE to remember Jacob when he was alive and showing his mommy that he was very much ALIVE during the ultrasound. I CHOOSE to remember those moments with a smile on my face. Jacob was kicking. He was squirming. He was punching. He was opening and closing his mouth to practice for when he would breathe someday. I loved every minute of that part of my ultrasound! How I wish I had a video of it! That was the last time that I saw my sweet little baby alive. But it's not the last time that I will see him, for I will see him again. And I will kiss every squirmy inch of him when I do.
Much of this year has been about choices. I have learned that I must choose how I will react to things. Sure, some days I will cry because that's all I can do. Crying is the only choice sometimes...like on the day you find out that your baby probably will not survive. That's what I did last October 21. I cried. I panicked. I yelled. I moped. But other days when I can make that choice, I choose to be grateful for my baby, for the 13 weeks that we had with him and for the opportunity to see him so clearly that day.
October 21, 2010. Where were you on that day? I was at the very beginning of my journey and one that is common to so many, unfortunately. It's not just my journey. It is "A Mother's Journey"...full of loss, full of love and full of hope.
Thank you for sharing in this journey with me, my friends.
With love to my sweet little Jacob--Mommy remembers seeing you on October 21! I know you wanted me to see you. You wanted me to watch every movement you made--to laugh, to cry because I loved watching you so much. You were here, my sweet baby. Mommy loved seeing you and always will dream of the day when I can hold you in my arms.
Kim
*Special thanks to Small Bird Studio for the beautiful graphic about strength!
Monday, October 3, 2011
HEAL - A Walk to Remember...A Time of Shared Tears
October is finally here! For those of you who are familiar with the significance of this month, you may have already been planning your activities to remember your precious baby. For those of you who are new to the baby loss world, the month of October is a very special month for baby loss families. In 1988 President Ronald Reagan made October 15th National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support Day. The entire month of October is a time for us to reflect on our journey through loss and grief and a time to honor and remember all babies gone too soon. I look forward to sharing this special time of year with you.
For me October has extra special meaning. This is the month one year ago that we received Jacob's fatal diagnosis. It is is also the month that we lost him to Trisomy 13.
I plan on celebrating my love for my baby all month long and I hope you'll share in this journey with me...parts of it might be painful as we look back to where all of this began, and on the difficult times...but then other parts of it will be joyful as we see how far I've come--as far as so many mothers come who have endured this grief. I will also be sharing how much I've learned and how much love I still have for my son. I'd like to think that most of my blog this month will be joyful as that's all I feel for my son--joy and love--no regrets. The last year was definitely not something I planned, but it is something that I have grown from and something that I thank God for.
I hope you'll keep up with my blog this month and if you're not a follower, please add me! I will be unveiling a new blog look later in the month (so excited for that!) and I will be sharing some of the baby remembrance events that I am participating in and coordinating as well. If you are participating in baby remembrance events of your own, I'd love to hear about them and to share some of them here. Please leave a comment so I can reach you.
Because this month is so special to me, I also will be having some giveaways throughout the month. These are just a small way for me to thank you -- each of you for taking the time to read my blog, to follow it and for offering your supportive comments, thoughts and prayers throughout this past year. I cannot tell you how much it means to me. Look for my blog posts to be approximately 3-4 times per week during the month of October. Giveaways will be sprinkled throughout the month so keep an eye out! The very first one will be on Thursday, October 6 and will be a copy of Richard Paul Evan's book, The Christmas Box (read below for why I chose this book). If you don't have this book, it's a very inspirational read! Even if you have the book, consider entering anyway as it would make a great gift. Please just post a comment below this post to enter! I will randomly draw one name on Thursday at 11:30 PM EST.
I couldn't have asked for a more special way to kick off this month of remembrance. We participated in the HEAL Walk to Remember Sunday afternoon and this was our very first remembrance event to attend for Jacob. HEAL stands for Helping Endure A Loss and is sponsored by the Atrium Medical Center in Middletown, OH.
While the Walk to Remember was very emotional for all of us who attended, there was also much beauty and love blooming in the Children's Memorial Garden yesterday. You could feel it all around you. I have included several pictures of the event below and I hope you can feel the beauty that I saw and felt too. Even if you never lost a child, I think there is something that makes us all stronger by sharing in a remembrance ceremony like this.
We got to the Atrium Medical Center at about 1:40 PM on Sunday. I was feeling very anxious. While I was really excited to be doing this for my baby and with my family, I also felt nervous about arriving to the walk on time and getting signed in. The walk was to begin promptly at 2:00 PM and I was worried that we might arrive late, not get a balloon or other memento items. I know it sounds silly, but those things were important to me.
Once we found the event (after being on the wrong side of town) I dashed up to the event sign-in while Alex got the boys and stroller out of the car. I had plenty of time, of course, but still wanted to make sure I made it through all of the stations to do and get what I needed to.
The first station: Welcome
I am so proud to say that HEAL put on an amazing and wonderfully organized event. I know how much planning these events can take and you could tell from the very first step that you took into the event area of the parking lot that they didn't leave any details out. The first table you went to was clearly labeled, "Welcome". Here I received a beautiful program. I had no idea there would be that much structure so felt even more excited at what was to come in the ceremony. The women at this table directed me to the next table to get name tags.
The second station: Name tags
Well, here is where I lost it. A dark-haired woman wearing a beautiful baby photo button instructed me to fill out a name tag with Jacob's name and to wear it on my coat so everyone could see my son's name. I don't know if it was seeing her baby or perhaps just writing Jacob's name on a light blue name tag with a butterfly on it, but somehow right at that moment I couldn't speak. It was the type of tears that suddenly come out of nowhere to choke you while you talk.
I think I spit out that there were four of us so as the lady counted out four name tags in blue and green colors (since Jacob was a boy), I looked up at her and said, "I'm sorry. I was doing fine until I got here." I don't know...was it that she was so kind to get all blue and one green name tags since that's what I originally requested? Something so small and seemingly insignificant brought me to tears. Seeing Jacob's name followed by the heart that I drew on it, knowing that everyone would see my precious baby's name on our coats...well, I just couldn't stop the tears from coming. It was as if they had a mind of their own.
The lady took my hand and said, "It's okay. That's what we are here for today." I don't remember what else she said but she gave me two extra packs of Kleenex from a basket, our orange and yellow, "Free to fly" bracelets, and purple buttons with the same logo. I quickly scooped up my items and went to the next station.
Because my nametag wouldn't stick to my coat, I wore Jacob close to my heart...
The third station: Backpacks
Again, who would have known we would be given so much stuff today? Here I picked up a black and orange backpack with the HEAL and Walk to Remember logos. I didn't look inside right then but found handouts later that talked about their support groups as well as a Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony for our babies in December...oh, and more Kleenex!
The fourth station: Butterflies
I think I was still weepy at this point. I couldn't say anything to the women working behind the tables. The wind was blowing, gentle music played on a loudspeaker, and here I was writing with love and pride, "Jacob Alexander Villalva" on a lavender butterfly while tears continued to force themselves from my eyes. I love to write Jacob's name.
I think all of the women working this event knew what the mood might be. No one pushed you to talk, no one forced you to laugh or smile...there just seemed to be an invisible support net that you felt caught in from the moment you entered the registration area of the parking lot. Here was a safe place to be yourself and to let your emotions out if and whenever you needed to.
I looked towards the car and saw my hubby taking his time getting the boys extra coats and hats and then the stroller so I kept making my way through everything. It was starting to get more crowded as 2:00 approached.
The fifth station: Kids.
Wow. I cannot believe that this organization cared so much to plan goodie bags for kids! They were beyond generous! They had bags for kids 3 and under and 4 and up. Each bag was full of little toys, a pinwheel and animal crackers. It was so sweet to see that butterflies were a common toy item--butterflies are symbolic in the baby loss community and I thought it was so touching that they included this symbol for our children. Kids were also given rocks with butterflies on them--I took two and was told I could have the boys place them in the Memorial Garden or I could take them home. Well, no doubt about that! These rocks were coming home with me! I am going to have Sammy and Benny decorate each of them around the butterfly and then date it for this year. Can't wait to do that special craft with them.
The sixth station: Balloons.
Big purple and orange balloons with alternating colored ribbon were provided for our balloon release...and you didn't just get a balloon. You got to write your sweet baby's name on a card marked, "Precious Child". More tears. Yes, I kind of assumed that I would cry today but I didn't think they would give me so many opportunities and so early in the event! :) At this point though, I never know when it will hit me. My emotions are right there it seems, just waiting for a moment to escape. And of course, this month is probably just a tad extra heavy on emotions due to Jacob's angelversary approaching so I guess I need to be ready for it.
I fought the wind to tie Jacob's card, marked "Jacob--Mommy loves you!", onto the balloon ribbon. Once I secured my card to the ribbon, I wrapped the ribbon around my fingers tightly so it wouldn't blow away. Again, it probably sounds silly, but I felt that I just couldn't lose my balloon. Even when Alex brought Sam back from the bathroom (you probably could have guessed that!), and we were looping the other 3 balloons on to the stroller, I had a death grip on all 4 strings. The wind was pulling so hard and every once in awhile you'd see a balloon fly away. It wasn't long before I felt my left hand cramping but I didn't mind, as long as I didn't lose my balloons.
Our Walk to Remember...Jacob
Finally it was time to start our walk. I gave Alex my camera since my left hand was busy with the balloons. He did a great job capturing the setting and us starting our walk. We started in the middle of the group so had a lot of open space around us. Then we caught up to the mass of people ahead of us, while another large clump trailed slowly behind us. I didn't realize it until I saw the photo below, but I guess my emotions were quite easy to read just by looking at me.
We walked along a sidewalk that lined the curvy road. To our right was the hospital. To our left was a field, woods...simply nature. It was a beautiful walk with the blue sky above and green around us. It was only a 1/4 of a mile walk so it went pretty quick. We didn't say much on this walk. I don't think I could have talked if I had to.
As we walked up the hill, I saw an event photographer take our picture. I wondered what we said to him as we approached...what stories did our faces tell? Could he see a mother's loss and longing to hold her son? Could he see innocence on the boys'? Could he see a quiet uncertainty on my husband's?
We came to the Children's Memorial Garden and found a spot on the grass since the circular bricked area in the middle was already full. Alex guessed that there were probably about 200 people there. Two hundred people came to remember their children on this cold, blustery day. I saw grandparents looking like children themselves as they held the brightly colored balloons. I saw little kids posing by memorial plates for their lost brother or sister. I saw young couples--childless and clinging to each other. I saw people like us. Some families wore shirts to honor their loving children. Others wore photo buttons. All of us proudly wore our baby's name tags. I wished I would have had time to ask about each name that I saw. I'm sure everyone would have shared a beautiful story about their child.
The Ceremony
The coordinator opened with a few comments about how we were all connected on this journey through grief. We are a family. Last year when Jacob died, I would have never thought that I would be joining another family and yet...I have. We have. We belong to the baby loss community now. We are forever a part of this very special group of people who have lost a child...a child gone too soon.
The coordinator then prepared to read the list of names from the butterflies that we filled out earlier. She spoke lovingly of her son, Mark, who passed away 19 years ago. "Even though it's been 19 years, my heart still leaps with joy when someone says Mark's name out loud. I will never hear his name at a football game. Or at his graduation." I will write more about this in a later blog post, but for those of you who have not lost a child, hearing your child's name said aloud is a treasure that long echoes in our ears and our hearts.
As she read each name from the pastel butterflies, another volunteer stapled them to the orange ribbons that were blowing on a wreath. When Sammy heard the name, 'Jacob', he said, "Mommy, that's Jacob!" I said that that was a Jacob...but not our Jacob yet. I counted one family had lost 5 babies. A couple lost 4. Some lost three and many lost 2. My heart breaks for them. One volunteer we met later had three baby girl names on her name tag. She told me there were triplets and she lost them at 20 weeks and only had minutes with them alive. She now has twins. :)
Finally our Jacob's name was read and our last name mispronounced. :) Alex and I just smiled at each other.
After the reading of the names, it was time to let the tears flow once more. A soloist sang the song, "Precious Child" by Karen Taylor-Good and I don't think I was the only one wiping my face. This song has been one of my favorite songs since I found this community. If you have never heard the words to this song, or if you are in the mood for a good cry, click on the link at the very bottom of this post and watch the video. The words speak so gently to your heart.
The Balloon Release
After the song, we were instructed to walk up to the next garden in more of a clearing so the balloons would launch more freely and not get caught in trees. A few had already popped or blown off but HEAL was so prepared that they had volunteers with more balloons so you wouldn't feel left out.
We made our way to the inner part of the garden circle this time and stood on the bricks. Alex worked on untangling our balloons and I kept hoping my loose one wouldn't blow off that close to our release. We untangled mine first. Then Sammy's. Then his and Benny's which had twisted together.
The song, "Somewhere Out There" was played and everyone turned slowly around to face the outside of the circle towards the open sky--almost as if on cue. As I turned, I saw the balloons going into the air from behind me. The wind took each one of them up into the open sky, far from any trees or buildings. I felt the string that I had held so tightly around my fingers loosen...and I let Jacob's balloon fly away to join those of his angel friends. I was so happy to catch a picture of it--it's the orange one in the middle of the picture, (closest to the camera) and you can see the tag hanging from it. :)
Sammy let his go (the orange one in the bottom right corner of the picture above) and finally Alex and Benny. Again, I was able to get a picture of their late release as their purple balloons followed the rest of the already far into the sky. Not only could I hear the timeless melody still playing, and cameras clicking, but also sniffles from all around. We all watched the orange and purple balloons dot the clouds in the beautiful blue sky and dance in the breeze. They all flew off in the same direction--together.
I heard a sniffle to my right--it was Alex. My dear, sweet husband who for so long has held his emotion in, let it out freely during the balloon release. We leaned on each other which of course made me sob some more. I longed for my baby to bundle up in the cold. I wished he was riding in the stroller with a cute little blankie wrapped around him tight. I know I haven't talked a lot about my husband's way of dealing with grief in this past year but have truly respected how we have shared our grief together and yet in very different ways. Seeing him moved that much during the balloon release...well, it's hard to hold it together when you see your husband cry. I was so grateful that he could spending time with his son in this way. For just those few moments, everything stopped around us--schedules slowed down, there was nothing else for either of us to do but to mourn, remember and love our baby.
I blew several kisses to Jacob, waved and gave him my "heart". Sammy and Daddy gave Jacob hearts and we then made our way back to the Children's Garden for pictures.
It's hard to explain the emotion that you see and feel at an event like this. Tears? Sure. Many eyes were red and many cheeks were streaked with eye liner. Many sunglasses hid the depths of pain their owners felt. Many words go unspoken but a hug can between two moms can capture it all--just like the woman at the name tag table who took my hand earlier. I couldn't say much, but looking into her eyes through my hazy tear-filled ones, I knew she knew and felt what I felt. That was enough.
But back in the garden after the balloon release, there were also feelings of love and hope that were shared amongst all of us. I think everyone felt a little bit lighter. No pun intended referring to the balloons, but it's as if the balloons lifted some of our sorrow and let it fly free and far away from our souls. Our love soared to our children and then, I think our grief went too. I think many of us felt a sense of peace settle in after being part of such a beautiful ceremony. Families took pictures of their child's marker or of their kids placing the butterfly rocks in the garden. Others photographed the wreath of names like we were about to do.
I went up to the wreath and remembered that Jacob's butterfly was lavender. Something about the softness of that color spoke to me today and so I wrote on that one instead of looking for a blue one. Because the wind was so strong, it was difficult to pin down the ribbons and to see some of the names which were twisting all around. I'm smiling as I write this because you know what? The very first lavender butterfly I flipped around was my Jacob's. :) There is some significance here and I had a similar event happen years ago when I lost my grandparents' graves in the snow. But, that's another story.
I held his butterfly in my hands and kissed it, just as if I would have held and kissed him had he been alive today.
Alex and I sat next to Jacob's butterfly...together. There was just something so special to me about sharing these moments with my husband. I was also so grateful that we didn't rush our time there. We took our time looking at the memorials, the baby angel statues and the Angel of Hope statue which graces the center of the garden. I didn't know it until today but the Angel of Hope statue came out of a plea from parents nation-wide after reading Richard Paul Evans' A Christmas Box book several years ago. There are 90 Angel of Hope statues across the country and that Evans finally commissioned. We are lucky to have one here!
Below are just a few of the other baby stones that I loved.
We walked back along the curvy road and I too one more picture of the crowd who remained to enjoy the Children's Garden.
When we reached the parking lot, I saw that only one table remained now. All of the brightly colored balloons were gone. All of the families with their baby's names on their coats had left. The event was over. I think many of us came today with heavy feelings of sorrow on our hearts. I know I was looking forward to this day but I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotion that hit me when I got there. I'm sure I wasn't the only one. But I think we left a part of our grief there...it went high up into the clouds with our balloons. Will there be more grief and tears in the future? Yep, most definitely. Does this journey ever have an end where you don't feel some level of sadness? No, I don't think so. I have learned that this journey will continue until I reach my Jacob someday in Heaven and all along it I will face days of great joy and others of sorrow that will pop out at me when I am least expecting it. Some tears I will be happy to shed and others I won't.
No matter what, I am clinging to one thing on this journey. It's what's gotten me this far in the last year and what I know I will need as I walk on my journey...hope. Looking forward to spending this month with you, to sharing our tears, our joy, and of course, our hope.
With love to my precious Jacob...
Kim :)
Don't forget to check out the link to "Precious Child" and to post a comment for the book!
Here is the link to "Precious Child"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3c_U0ctrJDo&feature=feedf
For me October has extra special meaning. This is the month one year ago that we received Jacob's fatal diagnosis. It is is also the month that we lost him to Trisomy 13.
I plan on celebrating my love for my baby all month long and I hope you'll share in this journey with me...parts of it might be painful as we look back to where all of this began, and on the difficult times...but then other parts of it will be joyful as we see how far I've come--as far as so many mothers come who have endured this grief. I will also be sharing how much I've learned and how much love I still have for my son. I'd like to think that most of my blog this month will be joyful as that's all I feel for my son--joy and love--no regrets. The last year was definitely not something I planned, but it is something that I have grown from and something that I thank God for.
I hope you'll keep up with my blog this month and if you're not a follower, please add me! I will be unveiling a new blog look later in the month (so excited for that!) and I will be sharing some of the baby remembrance events that I am participating in and coordinating as well. If you are participating in baby remembrance events of your own, I'd love to hear about them and to share some of them here. Please leave a comment so I can reach you.
Because this month is so special to me, I also will be having some giveaways throughout the month. These are just a small way for me to thank you -- each of you for taking the time to read my blog, to follow it and for offering your supportive comments, thoughts and prayers throughout this past year. I cannot tell you how much it means to me. Look for my blog posts to be approximately 3-4 times per week during the month of October. Giveaways will be sprinkled throughout the month so keep an eye out! The very first one will be on Thursday, October 6 and will be a copy of Richard Paul Evan's book, The Christmas Box (read below for why I chose this book). If you don't have this book, it's a very inspirational read! Even if you have the book, consider entering anyway as it would make a great gift. Please just post a comment below this post to enter! I will randomly draw one name on Thursday at 11:30 PM EST.
I couldn't have asked for a more special way to kick off this month of remembrance. We participated in the HEAL Walk to Remember Sunday afternoon and this was our very first remembrance event to attend for Jacob. HEAL stands for Helping Endure A Loss and is sponsored by the Atrium Medical Center in Middletown, OH.
While the Walk to Remember was very emotional for all of us who attended, there was also much beauty and love blooming in the Children's Memorial Garden yesterday. You could feel it all around you. I have included several pictures of the event below and I hope you can feel the beauty that I saw and felt too. Even if you never lost a child, I think there is something that makes us all stronger by sharing in a remembrance ceremony like this.
We got to the Atrium Medical Center at about 1:40 PM on Sunday. I was feeling very anxious. While I was really excited to be doing this for my baby and with my family, I also felt nervous about arriving to the walk on time and getting signed in. The walk was to begin promptly at 2:00 PM and I was worried that we might arrive late, not get a balloon or other memento items. I know it sounds silly, but those things were important to me.
Once we found the event (after being on the wrong side of town) I dashed up to the event sign-in while Alex got the boys and stroller out of the car. I had plenty of time, of course, but still wanted to make sure I made it through all of the stations to do and get what I needed to.
I am so proud to say that HEAL put on an amazing and wonderfully organized event. I know how much planning these events can take and you could tell from the very first step that you took into the event area of the parking lot that they didn't leave any details out. The first table you went to was clearly labeled, "Welcome". Here I received a beautiful program. I had no idea there would be that much structure so felt even more excited at what was to come in the ceremony. The women at this table directed me to the next table to get name tags.
The second station: Name tags
Well, here is where I lost it. A dark-haired woman wearing a beautiful baby photo button instructed me to fill out a name tag with Jacob's name and to wear it on my coat so everyone could see my son's name. I don't know if it was seeing her baby or perhaps just writing Jacob's name on a light blue name tag with a butterfly on it, but somehow right at that moment I couldn't speak. It was the type of tears that suddenly come out of nowhere to choke you while you talk.
I think I spit out that there were four of us so as the lady counted out four name tags in blue and green colors (since Jacob was a boy), I looked up at her and said, "I'm sorry. I was doing fine until I got here." I don't know...was it that she was so kind to get all blue and one green name tags since that's what I originally requested? Something so small and seemingly insignificant brought me to tears. Seeing Jacob's name followed by the heart that I drew on it, knowing that everyone would see my precious baby's name on our coats...well, I just couldn't stop the tears from coming. It was as if they had a mind of their own.
The lady took my hand and said, "It's okay. That's what we are here for today." I don't remember what else she said but she gave me two extra packs of Kleenex from a basket, our orange and yellow, "Free to fly" bracelets, and purple buttons with the same logo. I quickly scooped up my items and went to the next station.
Because my nametag wouldn't stick to my coat, I wore Jacob close to my heart...
The third station: Backpacks
Again, who would have known we would be given so much stuff today? Here I picked up a black and orange backpack with the HEAL and Walk to Remember logos. I didn't look inside right then but found handouts later that talked about their support groups as well as a Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony for our babies in December...oh, and more Kleenex!
The fourth station: Butterflies
I think I was still weepy at this point. I couldn't say anything to the women working behind the tables. The wind was blowing, gentle music played on a loudspeaker, and here I was writing with love and pride, "Jacob Alexander Villalva" on a lavender butterfly while tears continued to force themselves from my eyes. I love to write Jacob's name.
I think all of the women working this event knew what the mood might be. No one pushed you to talk, no one forced you to laugh or smile...there just seemed to be an invisible support net that you felt caught in from the moment you entered the registration area of the parking lot. Here was a safe place to be yourself and to let your emotions out if and whenever you needed to.
I looked towards the car and saw my hubby taking his time getting the boys extra coats and hats and then the stroller so I kept making my way through everything. It was starting to get more crowded as 2:00 approached.
The fifth station: Kids.
Wow. I cannot believe that this organization cared so much to plan goodie bags for kids! They were beyond generous! They had bags for kids 3 and under and 4 and up. Each bag was full of little toys, a pinwheel and animal crackers. It was so sweet to see that butterflies were a common toy item--butterflies are symbolic in the baby loss community and I thought it was so touching that they included this symbol for our children. Kids were also given rocks with butterflies on them--I took two and was told I could have the boys place them in the Memorial Garden or I could take them home. Well, no doubt about that! These rocks were coming home with me! I am going to have Sammy and Benny decorate each of them around the butterfly and then date it for this year. Can't wait to do that special craft with them.
The sixth station: Balloons.
Big purple and orange balloons with alternating colored ribbon were provided for our balloon release...and you didn't just get a balloon. You got to write your sweet baby's name on a card marked, "Precious Child". More tears. Yes, I kind of assumed that I would cry today but I didn't think they would give me so many opportunities and so early in the event! :) At this point though, I never know when it will hit me. My emotions are right there it seems, just waiting for a moment to escape. And of course, this month is probably just a tad extra heavy on emotions due to Jacob's angelversary approaching so I guess I need to be ready for it.
I fought the wind to tie Jacob's card, marked "Jacob--Mommy loves you!", onto the balloon ribbon. Once I secured my card to the ribbon, I wrapped the ribbon around my fingers tightly so it wouldn't blow away. Again, it probably sounds silly, but I felt that I just couldn't lose my balloon. Even when Alex brought Sam back from the bathroom (you probably could have guessed that!), and we were looping the other 3 balloons on to the stroller, I had a death grip on all 4 strings. The wind was pulling so hard and every once in awhile you'd see a balloon fly away. It wasn't long before I felt my left hand cramping but I didn't mind, as long as I didn't lose my balloons.
Our Walk to Remember...Jacob
Finally it was time to start our walk. I gave Alex my camera since my left hand was busy with the balloons. He did a great job capturing the setting and us starting our walk. We started in the middle of the group so had a lot of open space around us. Then we caught up to the mass of people ahead of us, while another large clump trailed slowly behind us. I didn't realize it until I saw the photo below, but I guess my emotions were quite easy to read just by looking at me.
As we walked up the hill, I saw an event photographer take our picture. I wondered what we said to him as we approached...what stories did our faces tell? Could he see a mother's loss and longing to hold her son? Could he see innocence on the boys'? Could he see a quiet uncertainty on my husband's?
We came to the Children's Memorial Garden and found a spot on the grass since the circular bricked area in the middle was already full. Alex guessed that there were probably about 200 people there. Two hundred people came to remember their children on this cold, blustery day. I saw grandparents looking like children themselves as they held the brightly colored balloons. I saw little kids posing by memorial plates for their lost brother or sister. I saw young couples--childless and clinging to each other. I saw people like us. Some families wore shirts to honor their loving children. Others wore photo buttons. All of us proudly wore our baby's name tags. I wished I would have had time to ask about each name that I saw. I'm sure everyone would have shared a beautiful story about their child.
The Ceremony
The coordinator opened with a few comments about how we were all connected on this journey through grief. We are a family. Last year when Jacob died, I would have never thought that I would be joining another family and yet...I have. We have. We belong to the baby loss community now. We are forever a part of this very special group of people who have lost a child...a child gone too soon.
The coordinator then prepared to read the list of names from the butterflies that we filled out earlier. She spoke lovingly of her son, Mark, who passed away 19 years ago. "Even though it's been 19 years, my heart still leaps with joy when someone says Mark's name out loud. I will never hear his name at a football game. Or at his graduation." I will write more about this in a later blog post, but for those of you who have not lost a child, hearing your child's name said aloud is a treasure that long echoes in our ears and our hearts.
As she read each name from the pastel butterflies, another volunteer stapled them to the orange ribbons that were blowing on a wreath. When Sammy heard the name, 'Jacob', he said, "Mommy, that's Jacob!" I said that that was a Jacob...but not our Jacob yet. I counted one family had lost 5 babies. A couple lost 4. Some lost three and many lost 2. My heart breaks for them. One volunteer we met later had three baby girl names on her name tag. She told me there were triplets and she lost them at 20 weeks and only had minutes with them alive. She now has twins. :)
Finally our Jacob's name was read and our last name mispronounced. :) Alex and I just smiled at each other.
After the reading of the names, it was time to let the tears flow once more. A soloist sang the song, "Precious Child" by Karen Taylor-Good and I don't think I was the only one wiping my face. This song has been one of my favorite songs since I found this community. If you have never heard the words to this song, or if you are in the mood for a good cry, click on the link at the very bottom of this post and watch the video. The words speak so gently to your heart.
The Balloon Release
After the song, we were instructed to walk up to the next garden in more of a clearing so the balloons would launch more freely and not get caught in trees. A few had already popped or blown off but HEAL was so prepared that they had volunteers with more balloons so you wouldn't feel left out.
We made our way to the inner part of the garden circle this time and stood on the bricks. Alex worked on untangling our balloons and I kept hoping my loose one wouldn't blow off that close to our release. We untangled mine first. Then Sammy's. Then his and Benny's which had twisted together.
The song, "Somewhere Out There" was played and everyone turned slowly around to face the outside of the circle towards the open sky--almost as if on cue. As I turned, I saw the balloons going into the air from behind me. The wind took each one of them up into the open sky, far from any trees or buildings. I felt the string that I had held so tightly around my fingers loosen...and I let Jacob's balloon fly away to join those of his angel friends. I was so happy to catch a picture of it--it's the orange one in the middle of the picture, (closest to the camera) and you can see the tag hanging from it. :)
Sammy let his go (the orange one in the bottom right corner of the picture above) and finally Alex and Benny. Again, I was able to get a picture of their late release as their purple balloons followed the rest of the already far into the sky. Not only could I hear the timeless melody still playing, and cameras clicking, but also sniffles from all around. We all watched the orange and purple balloons dot the clouds in the beautiful blue sky and dance in the breeze. They all flew off in the same direction--together.
I heard a sniffle to my right--it was Alex. My dear, sweet husband who for so long has held his emotion in, let it out freely during the balloon release. We leaned on each other which of course made me sob some more. I longed for my baby to bundle up in the cold. I wished he was riding in the stroller with a cute little blankie wrapped around him tight. I know I haven't talked a lot about my husband's way of dealing with grief in this past year but have truly respected how we have shared our grief together and yet in very different ways. Seeing him moved that much during the balloon release...well, it's hard to hold it together when you see your husband cry. I was so grateful that he could spending time with his son in this way. For just those few moments, everything stopped around us--schedules slowed down, there was nothing else for either of us to do but to mourn, remember and love our baby.
I blew several kisses to Jacob, waved and gave him my "heart". Sammy and Daddy gave Jacob hearts and we then made our way back to the Children's Garden for pictures.
It's hard to explain the emotion that you see and feel at an event like this. Tears? Sure. Many eyes were red and many cheeks were streaked with eye liner. Many sunglasses hid the depths of pain their owners felt. Many words go unspoken but a hug can between two moms can capture it all--just like the woman at the name tag table who took my hand earlier. I couldn't say much, but looking into her eyes through my hazy tear-filled ones, I knew she knew and felt what I felt. That was enough.
But back in the garden after the balloon release, there were also feelings of love and hope that were shared amongst all of us. I think everyone felt a little bit lighter. No pun intended referring to the balloons, but it's as if the balloons lifted some of our sorrow and let it fly free and far away from our souls. Our love soared to our children and then, I think our grief went too. I think many of us felt a sense of peace settle in after being part of such a beautiful ceremony. Families took pictures of their child's marker or of their kids placing the butterfly rocks in the garden. Others photographed the wreath of names like we were about to do.
I went up to the wreath and remembered that Jacob's butterfly was lavender. Something about the softness of that color spoke to me today and so I wrote on that one instead of looking for a blue one. Because the wind was so strong, it was difficult to pin down the ribbons and to see some of the names which were twisting all around. I'm smiling as I write this because you know what? The very first lavender butterfly I flipped around was my Jacob's. :) There is some significance here and I had a similar event happen years ago when I lost my grandparents' graves in the snow. But, that's another story.
I held his butterfly in my hands and kissed it, just as if I would have held and kissed him had he been alive today.
We walked back along the curvy road and I too one more picture of the crowd who remained to enjoy the Children's Garden.
No matter what, I am clinging to one thing on this journey. It's what's gotten me this far in the last year and what I know I will need as I walk on my journey...hope. Looking forward to spending this month with you, to sharing our tears, our joy, and of course, our hope.
With love to my precious Jacob...
Kim :)
Don't forget to check out the link to "Precious Child" and to post a comment for the book!
Here is the link to "Precious Child"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3c_U0ctrJDo&feature=feedf
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