Disclaimer: I apologize if this post makes no sense. I wrote and
wrote and wrote without stopping or looking back.

Last
night I had a dream that I was breastfeeding a baby boy. I'm not sure if it was
Ian or the baby growing inside me now. Either way, it was beautiful and I was
reminded of how much I was looking forward to breastfeeding Ian. Any mother who
has breastfed can tell you what an incredible bonding experience it is. I
wanted that for us.
I'm trying very hard to be at peace. Some days it
takes more effort than others. Today is one of those days. I can't stop thinking
about him and my heart throbs with love and pain all at once. Every day, I
remember something that my brain had managed to block from my memory in an
effort to keep me functioning as normally as possible.
When I stepped into a
hot shower after a long, busy day a few weeks ago, I remembered the events of
that morning, one by one. I remembered how I got up really early with a dull
back ache and how I stepped into a hot shower attempting to relieve the pain a
bit and trying to make baby move. I remember poking my belly and whispering
"come on, baby, kick me, move, do something". I remembered knowing in the back
of my mind that he was gone, yet desperately trying to hang on to
hope.
That could never happen to me, I thought. Never. Not me.
That kind of thing only happens to others.
It's impossible to think of
that day without shedding a few tears.

I also remembered how a few days
before he was born, I was folding his clothes and making space for them in the
closet when I had this strange feeling come over me. It was telling me that I
was never going to use these clothes, not for Ian. I tried to convince myself
that I was being paranoid as I often tend to be about any of my children. It was
a powerful feeling, scary and sad, but I ignored it. That same night, I had this
sudden urge to google "stillbirth stories". I thought for sure my hormones were
going crazy and I was simply looking for a way to have a good cry. I read a few
stories, sobbed like a crazy, pregnant lady and went to bed. All these signs God
was sending me, yet I chose to cling to faith.

The most painful
memories, that just recently decided to slap me in the face as well, are the
ones of the few days after his birth. That baby-less car ride home, those cold
March days without a warm baby to snuggle with, the sudden bursts of tears at
the grocery store or any public place at the sight of any mother holding their
infant child, my mom literally lifting me off my bedroom floor every time the
pain became too much to bear alone....those memories torture me like no others.
I don't know if I'll ever make peace with any of those.

The list goes on
and on. I don't know if my brain has suddenly decided to torture me with all of
these fresh memories or if it has simply decided that I'm ready to cope with
them without losing my mind. I've been crying a lot. A lot. There are
so many thoughts and emotions going through me all at once. I feel like I have
so much to say, yet I'm speechless at the same time.

I feel like the
world has moved on without me. Everyone's lives go on and I'm stuck on that day.
I hate waking up to beautiful, sunny days and feeling so ugly and dark inside. I
hate having to answer questions from two very curious little boys who wonder if
this baby will die too. I hate knowing that I will spend an entire lifetime
wondering about a little boy who never took a single breath outside of my womb.


It feels like yesterday, but on the 23rd it will be eight long months
since I last felt his soft, little body nestled in my arms. Eight months since
his short life inside me changed who I am forever. Eight months of warm, salty
tears running down my cheeks. Eight months of wondering what he would look like
by now. Eight months of trying to make sense of a senseless tragedy. Eight
months of grueling heartache. Almost the same amount of time I spent dreaming of
holding him, has now gone by with me looking for ways to live without him.


And now, the only things left for me to do is to be grateful. Hard to
believe, but I have found ways to be grateful. I feel so blessed and lucky to be
the only one who felt him while he was alive. I am the only one who knew his
every kick and hiccup. His entire life took place inside me. He went from my
womb, straight into the arms of our Heavenly Father. Of all the mommas in the
world, He chose me. Me. I carried an angel inside me.
And one day, when it is my turn to go, he will be there, waiting for me. I hope
it isn't any time soon, but I look forward to it, the same way I was looking
forward to breastfeeding him.

There are no words to
describe how much I miss you, little boy. I fight through the pain of not having
you (physically) with me. Every. Single. Day. But I know your spirit is near. I
smell you often. I feel you with me. I love you, cherub. I know some day we will
be together again.

I always knew I'd be a mom. Always. I'm not going to lie, it's been a lot harder than I ever thought, but it has also been the most rewarding thing I've done in my 27 years of life. I grew up with two brothers and my mom is the only female out of six. Still, I never could have imagined that I'd have four boys. Four!

I always imagined dolls and little, pink toys laying around my home and combing long curls and applying lip gloss to tiny women eager to be all grown up. It never crossed my mind that I'd be helping little boys put transformers together or planning secret missions accross dangerous territory with plastic guns and RPGs at hand.

I believe it's human nature to want what you don't have. For yourself as well as others. When you see a mom with all girls, your first instinct is to ask if she wants a boy and the same thing for moms of boys. I'd be lying if I said I've never had that same thought, but life and circumstances have a way of teaching you to mind your own business.

Not long ago, after Ian passed away, I had someone say "well at least it was just another boy and not a girl". I suppose it was a sorry attempt to be comforting, and I'm sure this person has never had to say goodbye to their baby's little body and watch a nurse put a blanket over his sweet little face while wheeling him out of your hospital room for the last time. And I hope with all of my heart that this person never has to go home with a memory box of their child's footprints and a lock of his thin, brown hair. As insensitive as that comment was, I don't wish this pain on anyone. And just for the record, no my pain wouldn't have been greater had I lost a little girl and no, my pain wasn't any less because I already had two boys at home waiting for their baby brother.

I can't tell you how my heart melts when one of my boys hugs me and says "I love you, mommy" or how happy it makes me to hear them making zombie/ war/ monster/ explosion noises or how I admire their love for one another, even after they get done trying to strangle eachother. 

I love watching them play super heros and I can't think of a better way to spend my Friday night than eating popcorn and watching He-Man. I've also developed a unique love for Transformers and Hot Wheels. And bathing with Bubble Gum scented Spider Man body wash makes me feel a little closer to heaven.

Words could never express how much I adore my little boys. I love knowing that they'll always have each other. I hope that they grow to be wonderful, sweet, productive men and amazing fathers.

 And my Ian, oh my Ian, my heart beats a little faster whenever I think about him. My third boy. My sweet baby. My angel. With each passing day, I know I'm a little closer to seeing him again. An overwhelming amount of love and pain take over for a few minutes several times a day. Salty tears fill the crevice between my smiling lips while my mind is flooded with all the memories of that day and suddenly I'm there all over again. I can smell him and feel his skin against mine. I love you, cherub.

And now, another boy on the way. And I have boxes full of clothes in all shades of blue. Clothes that were for Ian. Clothes that will bring sorrow and sweetness all at once, when I see this tiny new being fill them. And my boys will always know that they have a brother in heaven. They will always know that they are one of four.

I'm sure having little girls would be a blast and perhaps some day I'll be blessed with one. Right now though, these four boys have my heart. All of it. Each one holding a special place.

I'm just grateful that of all the mommas in the world, God chose me to love and protect them.

And for the record, it's been a priviledge.

I Want Him Here

Lord, I know he is in a better place

With peace and joy and love and grace.

He never has to feel pain or sadness

With You, he only feels gladness…

But, I want him here.

I know it’s selfish, yes, it’s true,

To want him here instead of with You.

I want him here, to be with me,

To run and play, to climb a tree.

I want to teach him how to talk,

and watch him as he learns to walk,

To hold him when he’s afraid at night,

And let him know he’ll be alright.

I want him here.

I want to watch my child grow

To be with me, but even so,

I know You will take care of him,

And he’ll live in a place that has no sin.

Always he will sing praises to You,

Reminding me that Your Word is true.

That one day when I “come home,” I’ll see

My precious child waiting for me.

I want him here…..yes…. it’s true….

But if he can’t be with me….

I’m glad he’s with You.

-Jennifer Mull

First of all, I want to say thank you to everyone who has stopped by and left sweet, caring, heartfelt comments and messages. I really didn't expect that much output from so many wonderful souls. Second, for those who introduced themselves as strangers, let me make it clear that anyone who has shed a tear for my precious Ian is no stranger to me. You're all my friends as far as I'm concerned. You took the time to read the words I managed to type up while my heart was throbbing with pain. You took the time to leave a kind message that soothed my soul and reminded me that the world is full of beautiful people. Strangers don't do those things, but friends do. I hope I don't cross the line from emotional to creepy, but I love you all.

August 27th was my boys' first day of school. Julian started first grade and Tyler started Kindergarten. I didn't go to school that day, because I really wanted to share that moment with them. Julian is usually my brave boy. Shy but confident. Boy, was I surprised when he started to cry minutes before I walked him to his class. I held him close and told him everything would be well. He stopped crying but I could still sense his anxiety. That is, until we got to his classroom and he saw his best friend from Kinder. After that, he waved goodbye and smiled like the brave, confident boy I know he is.

Next, was my Ty-Ty. I had been preparing for several weeks of tears and anxiety. I was convinced my boy would be that kid. The one who cries and screams and kicks as I walk away every day for two weeks. As a mom, I know my kids like the back of my hand. Or at least I thought I did..... I walked him to his classroom with him holding tightly onto my hand and even hiding a bit behind me. That is, until he saw legos. I had rehearsed speeches and prepared mentally for the tantrums and the fits, but in 2.2 seconds I had been replaced by a bucket of legos. The security he got from my sweaty hand had been replaced by colorful little building blocks....who knew? I waved goodbye and told him I love him, but he was too busy making colorful towers. I did manage to get his attention long enough to take a picture.

I left with a happy heart knowing that my boys were ready to be on their own. It wasn't long before it hit me though. I sat in the car and cried for several minutes, after I realized that these were the very same milestones I'd never share with Ian. The moments a momma lives for, the ones we engrave in our hearts forever, would be the same ones I'd never have with my little boy. I sobbed in the parking lot and told myself how unfair it was. After a few minutes, I was able to pull myself together and go about my day. I never would have imagined the day would end with my in the E.R. with a broken foot after tripping and hitting the floor pretty hard. I'm ok. It's been two weeks and my foot has finally stopped throbbing. Perhaps they can try to cast it again after today, since they had to cut the cast off the first time due to severe swelling. Don't worry. Baby is fine. My arms took most of the fall, plus I'm well padded. Fluffy. Cushion-y. You know?  

I have a doctor's appointment with my OB in a few hours. I have to leave extra early since crutching your way around a three story building isn't exactly easy when you are pregnant and broken. I'll figure it out though. I've been through worse....

Anyway, I want to thank everyone who has been touched by my the birth of my little angel. You have no idea what it means to me to have so many people share my pain and acknowledge his brief life. I am grateful and so proud to be able to share him with so many. I want everyone to know he was here and that he is part of our family. My heart goes out to those who shared their own experiences of loss and sadness.  Please know you are not alone.

I hope you're all having a nice hump day.

Originally published here: http://misseszee.blogspot.com

It's been a while since I've been here. I thought I should come back to the place where it all started. The place that taught me to love blogging. So many things have happened since the last time I was here.

There is no way to write this without falling apart, so I'll just go ahead and share an entry on my blogger page:

Monday, February 27, 2012