Thoughts for today

Some words which a friend sent to me:

To those of you who look away when I grow teary eyed in the baby department, look a little deeper. Surely you have some compassion in your heart.

To those of you who change the subject when I speak my child's name, change your way of thinking. It may just change your whole life.

To those of you who roll your eyes and say we barely had them at all, how could we miss them so much, in our hearts we have seen them live a thousand times. We have seen their first steps, their first day of school, their weddings, and their children. We have had them forever in our minds.

To those who say we can have another, even if we had twenty more they would never be the child we lost, and we will always miss them.

To those who say get on with my life, I have. It is a different life, the life of a grieving mother. One with a tremendous amount to be thankful for, but also one with a lot to mourn the loss of.

Do not judge a bereaved mother. She comes in many forms.

She is breathing, but she is dying.

She may look young, but inside she has become ancient.

She smiles, but her heart throbs.

She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works, she IS, but she is NOT, all at once.

She is here, but part of her is elsewhere for eternity.

Random ramblings

It's been a long time since I've written anything. Not much going on really. Tired all the time, but can't sleep at night. I guess there's just too much running through my head and I can't just turn it all off and clear my thoughts. Like all mothers, I just hope that I'm always doing what's best for my kids and always making the right decisions. I wish I had all the right answers, but sometimes not everything is clear.

Cody's birthday

My sweet, shy, amazing first living child is eight years old today. Eight years ago today I was at his bedside while machines breathed for him and medicines pumped into him through an i.v. in his head. Today, he is a thoughtful, loving, smart boy that has beaten the odds. That guilt that I still have over his birth is still there. No body knows it's there but me. I've heard many people say that there's nothing I could have done. I held on and fought to keep the pregnancy going longer. The progesterone injections, the cerclage, terbutaline, magnesium sulfate. All of this was just not enough, the contractions wouldn't stop. But somewhere deep down within me, I tell myself that it was my body that did that to him. It made him struggle on a ventilator for more than a month. I should just let the guilt go, but I just can't won't.

This is what summer looks like...

Dirty boys and their dirty feet...

Not me! Monday

I suppose it's time to attempt Not me! Monday. Take a look at where this all started: Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

Friday night I did not go to a bar.

And while I was not there, it did not take just a few drinks to get me drunk.

At that same bar, I did not walk out of a stall in the bathroom just in time to notice a man in the stall next to me with the DOOR OPEN! using the facilities. Not me!

While with my children on Saturday here: Harborside park on a nice sunny day I did not almost get in a shouting match with another mother. Her children were very rudely splashing way too much right next to us. When one of them splashed my four year right in the face on purpose, I very loudly did not say "he DOES NOT want to be splashed." The mother then informed us if we did not want to be splashed then perhaps we should move further away from the water like she was. Excuse me woman, but I expect my children to listen when they are told not to splash other people. She said she did not want us talking to her children. We stayed even though it was uncomfortable, because we did not want her to win. Turns out, she had to move two fountains down because her kids ran off down there and ignored her when she told them to come back.

Thought for the Day

"A Pair of Shoes"

I am wearing a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.
I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.
They never talk about my shoes.
To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.
I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some woman are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt.
No woman deserves to wear these shoes.
Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.
These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.
They have made me who I am.
I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

Author unknown

Why?

Why is this grief hitting me so hard lately even though it's been more than 10 years?

Why do I still feel so guilty even though there is nothing that I could have done to save her?

Why do I still find it so hard to be around baby girls for any length of time?

Why do I force myself to be strong and hold back tears until I'm alone?

Why do I answer the question "how are you doing?" with the word "fine" when that couldn't be further from the truth?

Why, when people ask, "are you okay" do I still deny it and just answer that I'm tired?

Because I don't really want anyone to know what's going on in my head. I want to spare them from this horrific dark place. It's just easier than letting out the truth.