We are one week away from the date marking year 3 of my grief, year 3 of my sadness, and year 3 of missing my son Logan. Three years seems like a lifetime, but at the same time a brief second and my mood swings and tears are reminders that things will never be the same.
I have always mentioned that grieving and raising Logan's siblings have been the constant challenge for me. I never got to have that time even at the beginning where I could lay in bed and cry all day. I have always had to pick my moments and most of the time it was in between dropping off at practice or picking up, on my runs, in the shower, etc. I have cried in front of my children, but I hate having them see me so sad over the last couple of years and do my best to keep it to myself.
Losing Logan when we did is just plain crappy with Christmas around the corner. It puts a constant blemish on the month. My anxiety and emotions are on edge constantly and with every gift I purchase for my other children is a tiny punch to the gut of the child I cannot buy for.
On top of regular family Christmas activities there is non stop school activities next week. For a momma with an aching heart this is going to be a constant challenge. Ironincally enough the parent part of these activities all fall on Thursday the 19th...effing ridiculous!! So in order to not earn the worst mother of the year award and a big hunk of coal in my stocking from my children my Thursday December the 19th will look like this....
7:30-8:30- kids to school
9:30- Gingerbread houses with Landon's 1st grade class
10:30- Gingerbread houses with Taylor's 3rd grade class
12:00- Lunch with Santa at Luke's school
1:30- Reindeer games with Landon's 1st grade class
4:00- Gymnastic practice and Holiday Party
7:30- Luke's Holiday Music Concert (the exact time I birthed and held my 3rd son)
And at some point I am supposed to visit my 4th child on his birthday bring him some balloons and honor his special place in my life...this is not how I envisioned his 3rd birthday going.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
13 months old
My baby is 13 months old. Trying to figure out where the time has gone. Last year at this time we were at Children's hospital praying his meds would work and beat whatever infection had taken over his little 4 week body. Today, we are chasing him around the house because he has gone from walking to running in about a 2 week time period and he is fast!!! He also has mastered climbing, and if any object, toy, furniture, etc. is higher than ground level he will climb on top of it giving me numerous heart attacks throughout the day. Not to mention he has figured out how to open all the doors in our house so keeping him out of rooms has become significantly more difficult. Our house is pretty much 1 big baby gate.
Transitioning to solid foods has finally picked up and he is finally gaining some weight. I have always had heavy babies, but this guy has been long and lean since birth. He was in the 30% percentile at his 12 month well check for weight, and his brothers and sister were 97%+, so of course I have been a little panicked about his size. His doctor said he is fine, and he has gained over a pound in the last 3 weeks so I am good with it. Due to his slight issue with dairy we have him on 2% milk and so far so good. He is still getting them in bottles, but the weaning into cups will begin next week. This is going to be tough because he really LOVES them. He will drink his smoothie in the morning out of a cup with a straw, so I am praying this is not a big ordeal and the change over will go smoothly....PLEASE let it go over smoothly!!!
Life is so hectic right now. We are at the end of one sport season and crossing into another so my husband and I are a taxi service for my 3 older children. Between gymnastics, flag football, basketball, golf, baseball, and TeeBall we have a pretty full plate. As crazy as it is I love that the weather allows us to be outside all year long and my kids are definitely enjoying it as well.
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Logan has been gone 26 months now...i am in a weird place with this. Something happened after the 2 year mark. I am still very sad, but it is different. I still think of him everyday, several times as a matter of fact, but it isn't all consuming anymore which has thrown me for a loop. I remembering wanting to reach this point because being sad is so exhausting, but now that I am here, and it has been an extended period of time, not just a few days or a week here and there I feel a little guilty. I didn't even realize it was the 19th last week until late that evening and it broke my heart. I guess putting the sadness aside is getting easier, but with that comes guilt. Mommy guilt is worst type out there...
On a happier note here are some updated pics of Layton. When I look at him now I am starting to see a toddler and I am already missing the baby part of him. Not as many cuddles as I am used to getting, but I still make a point to hug and kiss him as much as I can.
Transitioning to solid foods has finally picked up and he is finally gaining some weight. I have always had heavy babies, but this guy has been long and lean since birth. He was in the 30% percentile at his 12 month well check for weight, and his brothers and sister were 97%+, so of course I have been a little panicked about his size. His doctor said he is fine, and he has gained over a pound in the last 3 weeks so I am good with it. Due to his slight issue with dairy we have him on 2% milk and so far so good. He is still getting them in bottles, but the weaning into cups will begin next week. This is going to be tough because he really LOVES them. He will drink his smoothie in the morning out of a cup with a straw, so I am praying this is not a big ordeal and the change over will go smoothly....PLEASE let it go over smoothly!!!
Life is so hectic right now. We are at the end of one sport season and crossing into another so my husband and I are a taxi service for my 3 older children. Between gymnastics, flag football, basketball, golf, baseball, and TeeBall we have a pretty full plate. As crazy as it is I love that the weather allows us to be outside all year long and my kids are definitely enjoying it as well.
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Logan has been gone 26 months now...i am in a weird place with this. Something happened after the 2 year mark. I am still very sad, but it is different. I still think of him everyday, several times as a matter of fact, but it isn't all consuming anymore which has thrown me for a loop. I remembering wanting to reach this point because being sad is so exhausting, but now that I am here, and it has been an extended period of time, not just a few days or a week here and there I feel a little guilty. I didn't even realize it was the 19th last week until late that evening and it broke my heart. I guess putting the sadness aside is getting easier, but with that comes guilt. Mommy guilt is worst type out there...
On a happier note here are some updated pics of Layton. When I look at him now I am starting to see a toddler and I am already missing the baby part of him. Not as many cuddles as I am used to getting, but I still make a point to hug and kiss him as much as I can.
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| Being a good helper for daddy |
Monday, January 28, 2013
"There's Another Brother, But He's Dead"
My boys...I love them to pieces and I love their brutal honesty, but oh my goodness sometimes it is way too much. They are at that age where they have no filter. Whatever comes into their minds they will say out loud to anyone and everyone within earshot exactly what they feel about whomever they are looking at. I have dealt with comments about different people's sizes ( Luke is great about pointing out overweight people and always asks if they are fat because they drink too much coke), people's disabilities (explaining why some people/kids are special needs), body odor, and even many comments from Luke how he doesn't like someone's face. It is not the best scenarios and I am sure I have turned several shades of red a couple of times, but I have learned it is sometimes easier to ignore it and then have a discussion a few minutes later why we don't say mean things about people when we have left the scene of the crime. I tried it in public before and my 5 year old's response was "well he is fat mommy, look his belly is bigger than yours when Layton was in it". I figure one insult is better than repeated insults with facts to back it. Our latest issue, and I hate calling it an issue, is my boys telling EVERYONE that they have a brother and he is dead. The looks of horror from adults I don't know, and the "what do you mean your brother is dead" from anyone aged 4-12 has taken its toll. After a 7 year old girl had to ask her mother what it meant for your brother to be dead on the ferry boat yesterday I am thinking I may have to have a conversation with my boys about when it is, and when it is not appropriate to talk about Logan.
I feel like the absolute worst mother in the world. I am so torn about how to handle this. I have been told that it is healthy for the kids to talk about him and to encourage it, but here I am thinking about telling them to do the opposite in certain scenarios. I love that they think of him enough to include him in random conversations they start with kids on the playground every. single. day, but some days I just like to keep him close, and not share him and his tragic story with every mom who decides to take their children to the park that day. Any thoughts??
I feel like the absolute worst mother in the world. I am so torn about how to handle this. I have been told that it is healthy for the kids to talk about him and to encourage it, but here I am thinking about telling them to do the opposite in certain scenarios. I love that they think of him enough to include him in random conversations they start with kids on the playground every. single. day, but some days I just like to keep him close, and not share him and his tragic story with every mom who decides to take their children to the park that day. Any thoughts??
Thursday, January 24, 2013
He's 1 ( a day late)
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE ONE AND ONLY PERSON THAT MADE ME REALIZE THAT THINGS CAN BE GOOD AGAIN. HE IS MY HOPE, AND MY ONE CHILD THAT I FEEL TRULY TIES LOGAN TO THE REST.
Poor kid spent his birthday in a stroller being dragged around all the Disney theme parks. I love you Layton and can't believe you are already 1. I am very much looking forward to the 2nd year.
Poor kid spent his birthday in a stroller being dragged around all the Disney theme parks. I love you Layton and can't believe you are already 1. I am very much looking forward to the 2nd year.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Let the 3rd year begin
**written on Dec. 20**
Logan's 2nd Birthday/Anniversary was yesterday. It was a weird day. Like everything else the build up was definitely worse than the day itself. I tried terribly to keep busy and hold it together. Having Layton here definitely made the day a little easier to get through. But, the reality is life goes on. I had to get kids ready for school, grocery shopping needed to be done, kids needed to be picked up from school, dinner needed to be made, and my daughter had gymnastic practice. We did release balloons and made brownies to celebrate him.
On Tuesday the kids and I took balloons and flowers to his grave, so most of my grieving took place Tuesday night. My boys run around that cemetery like crazies and there is way too much cool Christmas decorations out on graves to touch so our stay was very very brief.
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| Take 1 |
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Take 2...the sadness that this will be the only way all of my children will ever be together in a picture
2 years down and a lifetime to go...Happy Birthday my 3rd son, Logan Gregory, you are forever loved and forever missed.
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Monday, December 17, 2012
Tough Days...
It started this weekend. No matter how hard I try to push it from the front of my mind it keeps resurfacing there. Doesn't matter that the dates don't align up to the days, but the fact that each day leading up to finding out about his death still stands so clearly in my memory makes them just as important.
Out of the blue driving my son to school this morning the tears started flowing. There was no warning. No swelling in my eyes or lump in my throat or song/reminder to trigger it. It was weird. Then I remembered that 2 years ago driving my older son to the same school at that exact same time was the last time I am pretty sure I remember feeling hiccups as I was turning into the parking lot. Punch to the gut. Memories that I try my best to keep tucked away that escape without knowledge. Nothing but pain and a reminder that his day is only a short 48 hours away. 48 hours until balloons are released and acknowledgement/acceptance that my little one would be 2 years old. Longing and sadness instead of joy and happiness. What I would do for a do over...
A few hours later after my workout I went to Target to finish up some shopping. Hoping a little retail therapy would do the trick...wrong! There were a group of children from a local private school singing carols...i started crying. It was terrible. No matter how hard I try, this month will never be the same.
I have taken a different and probably unhealthy approach to things this year. I did not decorate his grave. I feel horrible guilt for that, but I want the thoughts of him to be in my household not at a cemetery this year. He is in every room. A picture, an ornament, his stocking, his name...he is everywhere. Part of me wishes we would have had him cremated so that he could physically be here as well even if it is just his ashes. At least it is some physical proof that he was more than what some days feels like a distant memory or a dream.
2 days away from 2 years. Trying my best to keep busy and keep moving. Hoping to out run the sadness and the grief that will always be one step ahead no matter how hard I try.
I think the events of the last week have made things a little harder. I found out last week that a friend's daughter's friend lost her baby. She was 40+ weeks and went in for her pre-induction appointment to find out her baby had passed. I feel her pain. I remember her pain and it has been 2 years. It made me so angry when I heard. Add in Friday's tragedy in CT and I almost can return to that numb state I remember functioning in for a few days 2 years ago . Having 2 children sitting in an elementary school as I was watching everything unfold on Friday was torture. I couldn't wait for them to get off of the bus and I couldn't stop hugging them once i got home.
I feel unexpected loss is the toughest way to lose someone because there is no time to prepare. No time to have things in place or to say what you want to say or do what you want to do. As I watched pictures of these parents experiencing unexpected loss playing out live on my television set I couldn't help, but empathize with them. I know what it is like to know your child will never be coming home. That the next thing you do for them is to pick out a casket.
Although my loss is on a different spectrum than what these parents have experienced I know what it is like to just want your child back and at the same time to want to lay them to rest as soon as possible. I buried Logan on Dec. 23. Two freaking days before Christmas. As a parent with other children you have to attempt to deal with your grief, their grief and at the same time deal with Christmas. It was very hard and I am very thankful that my kids were young enough that they really didn't notice. But, at the same time I am afraid that it will never get back to what I picture is normal.
The holiday months are always hard no matter when you lose someone you loved, but It seems so unnecessary and frustrating when children are directly involved. This month is meant for the kids and therefore it should be exempt from any type of sadness or loss. The magic that Christmas brings when we are children, and then we can only hope to pass on and share with our children. But, when your child is abruptly taken away so is that magic. The month becomes an anniversary more than a birthday or a holiday and that is what turns me into a frustrated, angry, emotional mess.
I hate this time of year.
Out of the blue driving my son to school this morning the tears started flowing. There was no warning. No swelling in my eyes or lump in my throat or song/reminder to trigger it. It was weird. Then I remembered that 2 years ago driving my older son to the same school at that exact same time was the last time I am pretty sure I remember feeling hiccups as I was turning into the parking lot. Punch to the gut. Memories that I try my best to keep tucked away that escape without knowledge. Nothing but pain and a reminder that his day is only a short 48 hours away. 48 hours until balloons are released and acknowledgement/acceptance that my little one would be 2 years old. Longing and sadness instead of joy and happiness. What I would do for a do over...
A few hours later after my workout I went to Target to finish up some shopping. Hoping a little retail therapy would do the trick...wrong! There were a group of children from a local private school singing carols...i started crying. It was terrible. No matter how hard I try, this month will never be the same.
I have taken a different and probably unhealthy approach to things this year. I did not decorate his grave. I feel horrible guilt for that, but I want the thoughts of him to be in my household not at a cemetery this year. He is in every room. A picture, an ornament, his stocking, his name...he is everywhere. Part of me wishes we would have had him cremated so that he could physically be here as well even if it is just his ashes. At least it is some physical proof that he was more than what some days feels like a distant memory or a dream.
2 days away from 2 years. Trying my best to keep busy and keep moving. Hoping to out run the sadness and the grief that will always be one step ahead no matter how hard I try.
I think the events of the last week have made things a little harder. I found out last week that a friend's daughter's friend lost her baby. She was 40+ weeks and went in for her pre-induction appointment to find out her baby had passed. I feel her pain. I remember her pain and it has been 2 years. It made me so angry when I heard. Add in Friday's tragedy in CT and I almost can return to that numb state I remember functioning in for a few days 2 years ago . Having 2 children sitting in an elementary school as I was watching everything unfold on Friday was torture. I couldn't wait for them to get off of the bus and I couldn't stop hugging them once i got home.
I feel unexpected loss is the toughest way to lose someone because there is no time to prepare. No time to have things in place or to say what you want to say or do what you want to do. As I watched pictures of these parents experiencing unexpected loss playing out live on my television set I couldn't help, but empathize with them. I know what it is like to know your child will never be coming home. That the next thing you do for them is to pick out a casket.
Although my loss is on a different spectrum than what these parents have experienced I know what it is like to just want your child back and at the same time to want to lay them to rest as soon as possible. I buried Logan on Dec. 23. Two freaking days before Christmas. As a parent with other children you have to attempt to deal with your grief, their grief and at the same time deal with Christmas. It was very hard and I am very thankful that my kids were young enough that they really didn't notice. But, at the same time I am afraid that it will never get back to what I picture is normal.
The holiday months are always hard no matter when you lose someone you loved, but It seems so unnecessary and frustrating when children are directly involved. This month is meant for the kids and therefore it should be exempt from any type of sadness or loss. The magic that Christmas brings when we are children, and then we can only hope to pass on and share with our children. But, when your child is abruptly taken away so is that magic. The month becomes an anniversary more than a birthday or a holiday and that is what turns me into a frustrated, angry, emotional mess.
I hate this time of year.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Uncomfortable
This post has been jostling around my brain for weeks now, but unfortunately my house could double for a hospital infirmary with as many illnesses my kids have brought home and past on to each other. The latest round began Dec. 1 and they are still going strong. I am pretty sure I leave a scent of lysol, clorox, and antibacterial soap wherever I go. Have I told you how much I detest December?!?!
Well, a few months back I was on the treadmill doing one of my dreaded interval/tempo training runs at the gym when something I was watching caught my attention. Not so much as what they were doing, but what the coach was saying. ESPN was at one of Rich Rod's practices at University of Arizona as they were preparing for USC. They were asking him how he prepared his guys to face such a powerhouse team/program the week leading up to the game. His response was simple "Keep them uncomfortable to the point they begin to feel uncomfortable is comfortable." Now I can only imagine what he put his poor players through to reach that point day in and day out the days leading up to the game, but something in it struck a chord and I immediately thought...that is my life!!! Every day I must take an uncomfortable situation that was given to me and will stay with me until I take my last breath and make it comfortable. Some how our mind and heart must continue to fight through all the grief to the point where it feels normal...ugh!
Almost 2 years ago for some reason my cozy safe life was ripped away from me. My "comfortable", where the worst thing I knew was my parents battling and successfully beating cancer, a long time friend lost his battle (heartbreaking) with cancer, and one of my great friends from college's son was diagnosed with leukemia (disbelief and anger with this one) and continues to battle 2 1/2 years later (keep fighting Spence!!!) . These events are terrible and obviously affected my life, but I dealt with them and took the good with the bad and was able to honestly say my life is good because I had 3 healthy children with a much wanted 4th on the way. Spencer's diagnosis made me more aware, and maybe even a little paranoid for a little bit about my own children's sicknesses because if it can happen to them why not to us. But, at the end of the day it also made me even more thankful that my kids had their health. I never in a million years thought that a few months later I would have that taken away.
I think being "uncomfortable" is probably the worst feeling out there. Especially when you desperately want something to change that can not happen. When I am doing those miserable runs I mentioned above I know I have 4 minutes of "uncomfortable" followed by 4 minutes of "comfortable". The interesting thing is with every interval I find I can increase my speed because my body is able to adapt and I am able to ask more of it until i hit the point of exhaustion. I think once your baby dies this becomes a daily struggle. The first hours, days, weeks nothing but uncomfortable with brief breaks in between. As the months and now years go by I find that my intervals are less "uncomfortable" with more "comfortable" to keep us going. The struggle is when our emotions hit that exhaustion point and finding the strength to push on becomes overwhelming. As I sit 10 days out from Logan's 2nd birthday I can feel that emotional exhaustion. The uncomfortable is building again and all I want is to get to the 20th so I can fall back into my new "comfortable" and continue to build my stamina so when I reach that next point of exhaustion I can bounce back quicker. I know this post probably sounds slightly ridiculous, but considering I am truly using my running as therapy ( and I will be running a marathon in 7 weeks) this is where I am choosing to fuel my emotional energy.
The love you have for a child is overwhelming in itself, but when you physically can't hold that child or see his smile or hear his laugh and in my case never saw it it is debilitating. Yet, somehow we are able to adapt and continue living. I try my best to take all that love I have saved up for Logan and share it with my other children, but at times I just want to keep it for him.
With each day that life of "comfortable" I knew fades away, and here I am with an uphill climb living a life sentence of "uncomfortable". God, I miss my son.
Well, a few months back I was on the treadmill doing one of my dreaded interval/tempo training runs at the gym when something I was watching caught my attention. Not so much as what they were doing, but what the coach was saying. ESPN was at one of Rich Rod's practices at University of Arizona as they were preparing for USC. They were asking him how he prepared his guys to face such a powerhouse team/program the week leading up to the game. His response was simple "Keep them uncomfortable to the point they begin to feel uncomfortable is comfortable." Now I can only imagine what he put his poor players through to reach that point day in and day out the days leading up to the game, but something in it struck a chord and I immediately thought...that is my life!!! Every day I must take an uncomfortable situation that was given to me and will stay with me until I take my last breath and make it comfortable. Some how our mind and heart must continue to fight through all the grief to the point where it feels normal...ugh!
Almost 2 years ago for some reason my cozy safe life was ripped away from me. My "comfortable", where the worst thing I knew was my parents battling and successfully beating cancer, a long time friend lost his battle (heartbreaking) with cancer, and one of my great friends from college's son was diagnosed with leukemia (disbelief and anger with this one) and continues to battle 2 1/2 years later (keep fighting Spence!!!) . These events are terrible and obviously affected my life, but I dealt with them and took the good with the bad and was able to honestly say my life is good because I had 3 healthy children with a much wanted 4th on the way. Spencer's diagnosis made me more aware, and maybe even a little paranoid for a little bit about my own children's sicknesses because if it can happen to them why not to us. But, at the end of the day it also made me even more thankful that my kids had their health. I never in a million years thought that a few months later I would have that taken away.
I think being "uncomfortable" is probably the worst feeling out there. Especially when you desperately want something to change that can not happen. When I am doing those miserable runs I mentioned above I know I have 4 minutes of "uncomfortable" followed by 4 minutes of "comfortable". The interesting thing is with every interval I find I can increase my speed because my body is able to adapt and I am able to ask more of it until i hit the point of exhaustion. I think once your baby dies this becomes a daily struggle. The first hours, days, weeks nothing but uncomfortable with brief breaks in between. As the months and now years go by I find that my intervals are less "uncomfortable" with more "comfortable" to keep us going. The struggle is when our emotions hit that exhaustion point and finding the strength to push on becomes overwhelming. As I sit 10 days out from Logan's 2nd birthday I can feel that emotional exhaustion. The uncomfortable is building again and all I want is to get to the 20th so I can fall back into my new "comfortable" and continue to build my stamina so when I reach that next point of exhaustion I can bounce back quicker. I know this post probably sounds slightly ridiculous, but considering I am truly using my running as therapy ( and I will be running a marathon in 7 weeks) this is where I am choosing to fuel my emotional energy.
The love you have for a child is overwhelming in itself, but when you physically can't hold that child or see his smile or hear his laugh and in my case never saw it it is debilitating. Yet, somehow we are able to adapt and continue living. I try my best to take all that love I have saved up for Logan and share it with my other children, but at times I just want to keep it for him.
With each day that life of "comfortable" I knew fades away, and here I am with an uphill climb living a life sentence of "uncomfortable". God, I miss my son.
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