Saturday, March 30, 2013

little things that help bring sunshine

Through the tears, the heaviness, and the sadness of the day little things were there to try and make the day a little more happy...

to show love...

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to bring joy...

yellow tulips, a gift of sunshine

The first little thing came in the mail a few days ago.  I card addressed to my "Master O".  Just the sight of his name took my breath away.  I held it close to my heart, and tried to soak in the moment that would have been normally such a joyful occasion.  Kids just love getting mail addressed to them and I know Oliver would have squealed with delight at the sight of his very own envelope.  The back of the letter said "to be opened on 29/03 so the letter sat unopened on my dresser until yesterday.  Inside was a beautiful card, just for Oliver, wishing him a happy birthday.  A treasure from a dear friend, who is missing her own angel boy today too.

Last night our beautiful friends made a little birthday celebration come to life with special chocolate cupcakes.  We sang a song, shed a tear (or 100) and shared a moment together to remember the 4 short hours we had with Oliver, seven years ago...

Little things, given from huge hearts overflowing with love for our family, to remember a small baby and his little life.

blowing out the candle for their brother

Happy birthday Oliver

Friday, March 29, 2013

I hate today

I hate today.

I hate that you're not begging me to let you out on the trampoline even though its been raining all night.

I hate that you are not bouncing around the house singing "happy birthday" to yourself.

I hate that you're not demanding to open your birthday presents before breakfast, or ask me to make you chocolate chip pancakes.

I hate that you are not here whining about something. Anything.

I hate that I have no idea what you look like, what you sound like, even what you smell like.

I wish that I could go back to that "today" 7 years ago, and change it all. I would reach out to you, take you from your nicu bed, scoop you into my arms and hold you. If only I could have been able to breathe for you. To hold you.

Today though, I can just sit and think of you and only feel the longing to kiss your cheek and tousle your hair.

My son. Today is the day that culminates our memories of your very short life and all the hopes and dreams that we had for you.

Happy Birthday sweet Oliver.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

not ever forgotten

March 16th 2013 is a date I have circled in my calendar.  It's a date that 8 months ago I had calculated to mark the time when a new little being was going to be joining our family.

This weekend marked my due date with Noah.  It really is just an indication that by this time he would have been born.  And that by now, I would have had a wriggling, screaming, pooping little baby to cherish in my arms.  But sadly, that was not meant to be.

Noah has left a gaping hole in our little family.  One shared by his big brother Oliver... the two little boys who couldn't stay with us.

It's been nearly 7 years since Oliver passed away, fighting for his breath after 4 short hours of life.  It's been 5 months since Noah was born... an event that we needed to experience as he had died in utero at 16 weeks gestation, without any warning, and without any known reason.

These are my babies that I cannot hold, and today, like everyday, I remember them.

A grieving mother carries her children with her all the time.  She never forgets.  When the holidays come around, and she's wrapping presents or decorating the house, she remembers them.  When she goes to other children's birthday parties, or prepares cakes and balloons for her other children, she remembers the one's who are not here anymore.  Grocery shopping, driving to school, sitting at the dinner table, doing the laundry... the lost babies are an ever and constant presence in her heart and mind.  It doesn't matter if they passed quietly during the pregnancy, if they were born sleeping, or fought for their little lives in the NICU, these precious little babies are much loved, much cherished and always remembered.  It doesn't matter if it was last week, 7 years ago, or 37 years ago, the pain of loss is there.  This isn't just for me.  It's for grieving mothers everywhere.  Our babies aren't here, and we feel their loss always.

I'm writing this so that you won't forget either.

Noah is my son.  He was as real as you are.  Even though he didn't get to draw a sweet, life giving breath, every part of him was real, and my son.  He lived inside of me.  He was loved, nurtured, is loved and missed every single day.

Today I say his name, and I say his big brother's name, because I want you to remember them.  I don't ever want them to be forgotten.

Oliver Elias ~ March 29th 2006

Noah Yan ~ October 28th 2012


But not ever forgotten.

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