This weekend was strange,I had my ups and downs. I did a balloon release on Brody's due date (October 29th) for him and 20 other angel babies. I wont go into detail about it because it will be a very special separate post. Yesterday, Adam and I took new fall flowers to Brody's grave site.
The fresh ground with no grass left me feeling empty inside. It made me realize how very new this all is. I remember talking about what we were going to put on his grave. He was only alive when he was inside of me so he never had anything that was actually his. No sentimental teddy bear or blanket that he snuggled with...just me. I remember saying "Well, we could put some Tums in with him, he really liked Tums". It sounds funny but I was a little serious. I searched in my mind for something that meant something to him, something that made him feel better.
I thought a lot about his delivery. It was so different than what I had always pictured in my mind, yet it was still so special. I also occurred to me how very scared I am to get pregnant again. I want to make Brody a big brother so badly but I just don't know when I will be ready to have a different focus on something other than him. I am so very scared that this will happen again.
This weekend was full of scary costumes and Halloween festivities and I felt like a real life walking zombie. I felt like a shell, a shell of my self, just going through some motions. I went places but couldn't remember how I got there, people talked to me but I feel like I never heard a word.
I had a few conversations that were so meaningful that they feel like the only memories I have of this weekend. Most of the conversations were with friends, very dear friends that have been amazing through this journey. Another was with my husband, these are the conversations where I don't have to hide my thoughts or mask my darkest fears, because he has the same ones.
One of those conversations was with my niece, My husbands brother's daughter. She is three. Yes, one of those meaningful conversations I had was with a three year old.
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| Haydan |
Her and I were sitting on the couch, she was cuddled up next to me looking at my necklace. She asked me what it was. I told her "This is Brody's necklace, that is why there is a "B" on it". "Awwe" She responded, "I seen him on the puter". Her mom informed me she asks a lot of questions and she tells her what she can understand. Something I admire about her mother, she tells the truth and she doesn't keep the truth from her children either. She then asked me if Brody liked the color blue, I told her he likes green the best but he loves all the colors. She smiled. She said "Did Brody trick or treat?" I said "no, he didn't go trick or treating". She gave me that look like she felt bad, her head a little lowered and a sideways smile. She then looked up with enthusiasm like she had just had an epiphany and said "say trick or treat". I did. I said "trick or treat". "Brody heard you", she said. I could feel warmth through my body and warm tears in my eyes. "I bet he did", I said. She taught me something so simple. When I talk, Brody can hear me. I can share everyday with him. I can tell him "Trick or treat" or I can tell him "Merry Christmas" and he will hear me. I can say "Mommy loves you and misses you" and I know he will hear me.
It is so crazy what you learn from young ones. It hits you all at once and makes so much sense...more sense than any adult could explain. They say kids/babies have such clear thoughts and simplify things that adults clouded minds don't see. What an amazing thing Haydan made you aware of: that Brody is everywhere you are!! I have a poem to share that I saw on another friend's blog that lost her baby to SIDS at 4 months.
ReplyDelete"Shoes"My 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 women are like me and ache daily as they try to walk in them. Some have learned how to walk in them so that they don't hurt quite so 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.
This poem reminded me of you...especially the strength part.
I am thinking of ways to share your blog. You are an inspiration to so many and there are many many women who where the same shoes as you that need "brody's frog blog"!!! Thinking of you friend!!
***Wear***the same shoes!!
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