My family had suffered some sadness over the last 10 years. I remember when my uncle Bill's restaurant went under, that was a big deal. Then I remember when my mom's baby brother went to prison, that was a bigger deal. It seems like we have spent the majority of the last 10 years being sad for one reason or another. I do not want to down play the pain that has accompanied these small tragedies. I know the way they have affected the people that I love.
My sister said to me tonight, "I just wanted something good." I am not a religious person but it is hard to know why people who are so kind and loving would be chosen to lose something so great. I can picture my parents playing with their grandson, laughing as he learned to walk, nights spent at Aunt Lacy's house with those crazy cats. I can see him surrounded by love and attention, his big eyes taking in these strange people as they taught him to talk. He would have made all those dark times worth the heartache, a bright light in this world, a reason to continue the fight.
That is what children do, they aren't supposed to die. They are supposed to remind us of all that is good in this world, to teach us that there is a reason to go on. I think often of the joy that my friend's kids have given to me, of their wisdom and love. I will try to hold on to that while I mourn my own loss. Emily, my friend Cori's oldest girl came up to me the other day. She had been so aware and excited about the baby in my belly while I was pregnant. I don't know what her mother told her about what happened but I was nervous about seeing her after all that went on. She came into the room and gave me a big hug. She didn't say a thing, but put a snap bracelette that she had been wearing around all day on my wrist and went outside to play. It's like she knew that I needed her love and she gave it to me without any production or expectation. Then it was time to move on.....
Friday, March 25, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Packing up...
Just finished packing up the baby's room with my mother. Over the last month the door has stayed closed but every day I would go in and look at the crib, decorations and stuffed animals, and the clothes neatly folded in the dresser. I would take a deep breath and inhale the smell of diapers and freshly washed bedding and think of the preparation that went into putting the room together. It was sad but also strangely soothing to be surrounded by these things.
The week before I delivered Silas was spent in a mad dash to get the room put together. We had just moved in to our new home and unpacked the essentials; kitchen, bathroom, bedroom. I didn't want to decorate the baby's room before it was painted so my dear husband spent the hours after work patiently painting the walls and trim while I checked in from time to time (not wanting to inhale paint fumes in the closed space). We stayed up into the late hours assembling furniture and my mom finally helped me put the crib together just days before I checked in to the hospital. What a sight we must of been, me so pregnant that I could hardly bend over (and forget about getting up once I was on the ground) my mom fresh out of foot surgery limping around the endless parts of furniture. We finished it though and managed to have fun in the process, sharing the excitement of seeing the room come together.
Looking back, I wonder why I was in such a hurry to get it all done. "The baby doesn't care where he sleeps" people would tell me, but I wanted everything to be ready. When he was born the room was waiting for him. Blankets, clothes, monitors in place, all ready to be used. My consolation is that all of the beautiful things I was given at his shower, all the sweat and love that went into preparing for his arrival was not a waste. Someday these same things will welcome his brother or sister's birth and his spirit will be in every last item. I never got to wrap him in his homemade afghan or see him in those cute little outfits but our next child will feel the love that went into our preparations from the moment they are born, they will know their brother even though they never got to meet him. They will know how special he was.
The week before I delivered Silas was spent in a mad dash to get the room put together. We had just moved in to our new home and unpacked the essentials; kitchen, bathroom, bedroom. I didn't want to decorate the baby's room before it was painted so my dear husband spent the hours after work patiently painting the walls and trim while I checked in from time to time (not wanting to inhale paint fumes in the closed space). We stayed up into the late hours assembling furniture and my mom finally helped me put the crib together just days before I checked in to the hospital. What a sight we must of been, me so pregnant that I could hardly bend over (and forget about getting up once I was on the ground) my mom fresh out of foot surgery limping around the endless parts of furniture. We finished it though and managed to have fun in the process, sharing the excitement of seeing the room come together.
Looking back, I wonder why I was in such a hurry to get it all done. "The baby doesn't care where he sleeps" people would tell me, but I wanted everything to be ready. When he was born the room was waiting for him. Blankets, clothes, monitors in place, all ready to be used. My consolation is that all of the beautiful things I was given at his shower, all the sweat and love that went into preparing for his arrival was not a waste. Someday these same things will welcome his brother or sister's birth and his spirit will be in every last item. I never got to wrap him in his homemade afghan or see him in those cute little outfits but our next child will feel the love that went into our preparations from the moment they are born, they will know their brother even though they never got to meet him. They will know how special he was.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Bad parents
I am so angry today. My neighbor, who I will call Pajama Pants, after the attire that I perpetually see him in, came by my house today to ask my husband for a ride to the store. Apparently he was out of diapers for his son. He gets into our truck and then informs my husband that he needs to stop by Hastings to pawn some movies in order to pay for the diapers. My husband feels sorry for the child so he agrees to do this, only to have "Pajama Pants" ask him if he would like to come over for a beer. My husband declines, and I can only think of the beer cases constantly overflowing from "Pajama's" trash can on garbage day.
My husband and I have not always been the most mature people in the world, but when we found out that I was pregnant we changed our lives for our son. We quit bad habits, worked hard at our jobs, bought a house and prepared for the day that we would bring our child home. Now we are left with empty arms and people like "Pajama Pants" have children that they are not willing to sacrifice for.
Sometimes I feel that there is no justice in this life, for nine months I felt my child move inside me and waited for the happy day when I would welcome him into my world. I remember lying in my bed at night, feeling him kick and smiling because I knew that the love we would give to him would be endless. And not just while he was a cute little baby, but for the rest of his life. Having a child isn't just about carrying that child for nine months or cuddling him while he is helpless and small. It is a lifetime commitment that many are not willing to make. I was. Seeing and hearing about children whose parents refuse to make this commitment is almost more than I can bare. I wonder constantly, "why them and not me?"
My husband and I have not always been the most mature people in the world, but when we found out that I was pregnant we changed our lives for our son. We quit bad habits, worked hard at our jobs, bought a house and prepared for the day that we would bring our child home. Now we are left with empty arms and people like "Pajama Pants" have children that they are not willing to sacrifice for.
Sometimes I feel that there is no justice in this life, for nine months I felt my child move inside me and waited for the happy day when I would welcome him into my world. I remember lying in my bed at night, feeling him kick and smiling because I knew that the love we would give to him would be endless. And not just while he was a cute little baby, but for the rest of his life. Having a child isn't just about carrying that child for nine months or cuddling him while he is helpless and small. It is a lifetime commitment that many are not willing to make. I was. Seeing and hearing about children whose parents refuse to make this commitment is almost more than I can bare. I wonder constantly, "why them and not me?"
My baby boy
I am creating this blog for my son, whom I lost 7 hours after his birth on February 14th, 2011. He was the greatest gift I have ever been given. We named him Silas Matthew Love and he looked like an angel, big eyes, chubby cheeks and beautiful glowing skin. I wish that I would have got the chance to show him off to everyone I love but I am so thankful for the precious time that I got to spend with him.
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