Wednesday, 05 December 2012
You can find the original posts here: http://misseszee.blogspot.com
Wednesday, December 5, 2012Christmas GriefUsually by this time every year, I am eating, breathing and sleeping Christmas. Sadly, I haven't had the time or the will to buy a tree or pull out any decorations this year. I could sit here and write about how I have been so busy with school and the kids, but I'd be lying.The truth is I am just not feeling it.A part of me wants to sing Christmas Carols and cover our home with tinsel, but most of me is just sad. I think a lot about what he'd look like by now. My precious boy. I wonder about what his first Christmas would have been like, about the look on his face when his brothers handed him his first present, about the mashed potatoes and soft pieces of biscuit he could have had for dinner on Thanksgiving.This sucks...*sigh*I'm trying, though. I even did something I never though I'd attempt again-Meet Rocky The Shih TzuIt's been a couple of years since we've tried owning a dog. The last time we tried, our kids just weren't ready and I believe it ended with an overly-loved-by-two-subconciously-rough-toddler-boys pooch and a kid with deep teeth marks on his hand. I swore I just wasn't a dog person and vowed to keep pets as far away from my crazy kids for as long as I could (for the safety of the animals, really). Somehow, we ended up with this little guy and as much as I hate to admit it, (because I'm really not an animal lover) I kinda' like him. He has brought us a lot of smiles and even has us taking daily walks as a family.And look-Fall has arrivedI love how the leaves crunch as we walkI can't believe it has been ten months. Last year, at this time, my little angel was tumbling inside me as I counted the days until I got to hold him, so I could look into his eyes and tell him I'm his momma. I got to hold him and I got to tell him, but I never got to look into his eyes....and that just breaks my heart.Grief is such a sad, lonely place. Especially around the holidays. While everyone shops and wraps and decorates and cooks, grievers wonder about that person who should have been there to share the magic. We wonder about our parents and brothers and sisters and uncles and grandparents and children gone too soon. We question if it is OK to smile and forget about the sadness for a second without offending our loved ones in heaven. We think about the memories- good and bad. We hide to cry for a few minutes, so that we can fake a smile for a few hours. We all know we aren't alone in our sadness, yet the solitude we feel is overwhelming.I'm sorry if you are hurting this holiday season. Please know you aren't alone. I'm thinking of you. I share your pain. I'm praying for you. It's going to be ok. One day at a time.
Cry. Breathe. Smile.I will too.Sweet precious angel, I love you with all of who I am. I think about you, I dream about you, I feel you near. Momma will never forget those 39 amazing weeks and those few hours I got to hold you, feel you and sing you the same lullabies I sing to your brothers. Thank you for picking me.Your entire life took place inside me. I am so lucky.Fly high, blue cherub.I love you.Monday, November 19, 2012The Gift of Peace of MindToday started pretty bad. I had been up most of the night tossing and turning, unable to get into a comfortable position. I suppose it doesn't matter when you have to empty your bladder six to eight times a night.....or when there is a tiny person beating the heck outta your guts from the inside. Not gonna lie, I kinda' like it :)
Somehow I managed to get through a long day at school. By 2:30 p.m. Pacific Standard time, I was driving down route 66, in my red convertible with my hair whooshing in the crisp, fall wind....ok, not really...I took Baseline and I was in a truck with my hair in a messy bun, but I had the windows down and it felt really good.
Anyway, when I checked my voicemail, I heard a sweet message from a good friend asking me if she could drop something off. She didn't say what, but I like surprises, even though they make me nervous and a tad gassy, so I didn't ask any questions and offered to come pick it up instead since I was in the area.
I pulled up and saw her holding a little bag. Any pregnant woman can tell you the excitement that comes when someone hands you a little pastel-colored baggy. Ooooooh! what can it be? bibs, bottles, blankies, brownies..... !!!!Never could I have imagined what I'd find inside.
I don't know how I will ever be able to express my gratitude for this amazing, unique gift. I can't believe I can listen to his heart whenever I want. I hate to sound like a 13 year old girl (Ok, I secretly like it), but I seriously totally have like the bestest friends in the whole world. You guys rock!Like, yeah! *tear* But for realz now, yo'-
These women have helped carry me through the darkest days of my life. Never once have they deserted me. Even before my Ian went to be with the angels, they have always been there. I'll never forget the gifts, the cards, the meals, the flowers, the words, the prayers, the kindness....
I feel blessed.
I love that I can still see the goodness in life, even after going through something as tragic as losing a child. Something I never thought I'd have to do. I love that the sun still shines through the clouds. And on particularly cloudy days, I love that I can still find it in myself to dance in the rain, even if it takes me a while to gather the will and the strength. I love that because of this wound, I am able to cherish the things I once took for granted. I love that I can hug my babies a little tighter.
I'll never get over it. I'll never completely move on. And I'm sure I'll still have days when I just want to hide in the dark to cry alone. Please know that on the days when the pain takes over, I am still grateful.
Today started pretty bad.....
Monday, November 12, 2012Last week, I added another lesson to my repertoire of Life Lessons I Wish I Didn't Have to Learn the Hard Way. I won't beat around the bush- I have gestational diabetes. I can't say I am surprised, as diabetes runs strongly in my genes.....that, and I have been stuffing my face silly. Fun's over. Time to get serious.
There are some cookies on the table calling my name, but putting myself in a position that may risk this baby's life is notan option. I'm too scared to even think of what this could mean.Another Ian. No, no, no. I wouldn't survive.I've been sticking to my meal plans very well. I lost three pounds in four days, which is a good start on the ton of weight I have to lose after this baby is done baking.I feel privileged in so many ways. I can't believe God granted me the opportunity to grow another one of His mysteriously complex human beings inside me. What an honor.I love feeling him move inside me. It brings back sweet memories of carrying my other boys. Most of those memories bring smiles to my face. Others bring tears. It is always clear how truly blessed I am, though.I watched Rabbit Hole on Netflix a few nights ago. I knew what it was about before I started it and I knew I'd cry (more like sob), but I think I needed that, so I watched it anyway. It was comforting to see people fall apart the way I do almost every day. It made me feel a bit more normal to see people grieving in their own way. Believe it or not, it was nice to see that gut-wrenching pain that creeps up on you during the most inconvenient moments, strike someone besides me. Although scripted, it was healing to see these characters cry for their children the same way I do. Whether it was a four year old boy who ran into the street chasing after his dog or a thirty year old heroine addict who couldn't break the habit, they both had mothers who loved them and wanted nothing more than to have their babies back.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I was hoping to write a bit more tonight, but I can feel my blood-sugar getting low and cookies are not an option.I hope you all had a beautiful weekend.XOXO
Saturday, 13 October 2012
Disclaimer: I apologize if this post makes no sense. I wrote and
wrote and wrote without stopping or looking back.
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
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.
Tuesday, 09 October 2012
I don't even know how to start this post. This unspeakable pain is
unpredictable. I'm so heart-broken, angry, confused, sad...so many feelings all
at once. I don't know how I manage to get through most days, because today I
cried all day long and that felt more "normal" than smiling. The sadness felt
like "home sweet home". I needed to cry so badly. I needed to go back and allow
myself to feel the raw emotions of that day.
Today was hard, to say the
least. Today, I threw all the wisdom and strength I have gained during the past
seven and a half months out the window and I allowed myself to scream and pout
and kick. I let myself go back to that very moment when my own body betrayed me
and I became a walking, living, breathing grave to my unborn child's tiny body.
I wish people would stop telling me how strong I am. I'm not strong! I'm the
weakest I've ever been. Some days I have to fight through tears and sorrow just
to make breakfast for my little boys. Other days I want to close my eyes and
disappear, so that I don't have to explain to anyone why I can't stop crying.
This stabbing, sinking, unbearable pain is so deep, it takes my breath away
at times. It makes me question everything I thought I knew for sure, like His
presence in my life and my will to keep on going. I question it all, because I
miss him so much and I just can't imagine getting through an entire lifetime
It's not fair, it's just not fair. I want to fall on the floor
and drown in a pool of my own tears. I'm broken. So broken.
Ian, baby, I
need you so much. Come visit me today, please. I need to feel you
I don't know what to do with myself. I just want my baby.
Today the pain took over. Tomorrow, who knows?
I'll be OK, I know I will.
I'm holding on tight to the three little people who need me here on earth.
Tomorrow I will wake up with a swollen face and a wounded soul, and I will make
breakfast for the two bravest, most sweetest little boys I know. They need their
I love you, Ian. Fly high, angel boy.
Saturday, 22 September 2012
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.
Tuesday, 18 September 2012
Friday, 14 September 2012
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.
Thursday, 13 September 2012
I'm supposed to be studying for my test tonight, but I'm a little bit broken.
These moments of solitude while the boys are at school remind me that I shouldn't be alone.
I shouldn't be studying comfortably.
I shouldn't be well rested.
I should be tired and juggling an infant and chapter five in my French book.
I want piles of dirty baby laundry in my hamper. I want it. I want the stench of dirty diapers that I haven't had the will to take out rotting in my trash can. I want that. I want his soft baby skin resting upon my chest. I want him.
I want the little boy who lived inside of me for 39 weeks to be here with me. With ME. Because babies belong with their mothers.
I love you, Ian.
The pain is so raw today. The wound is so deep.
I remember a few Saturdays before you went to heaven, I took your brothers to eat and play at McDonald's. We were there for a while and there must have been a dozen kids playing and screaming with their little, high-pitched voices. I think you must have heard them because you were flipping and kicking like never before. You wanted to play too. And I told myself I'll never forget this moment. And I smiled, because I thought that the next time I took your brothers to play, you'd surely be sitting in my arms, watching the kids, smiling and cooing.
Oh, little boy....what I'd give to hold you one more time. To smell the scent of heaven fresh on your baby skin.
Sleep peacefully, sweet angel.
Wednesday, 12 September 2012
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.
Monday, 10 September 2012
I am nearly twenty weeks pregnant.
I'm not sure I am ready to announce it to the world, but you can only hide a pregnancy for so long. The few people who know have been incredibly supportive. However, every woman who's ever been pregnant can tell you that it is nearly impossible to avoid those well-meaning rude remarks about the new life growing inside of you. I've already had a few "I hope it's a girl this time"....as if, after what I've been through, I really care about the gender more than the safety and well-being of the tiny human baking in my womb. The truth is my life would have been more than perfect with a house full of boys. And, of course, I could not get half-way through this pregnancy without the "you're having a new baby now, it's time to move on", because it's common knowledge that one baby replaces another, right? ....I might as well make it clear now, NOTHING and NOBODY will EVER fill this empty space in my heart. I still cry for him every day and my heart aches like it did the day I lost him. If anything, I'd say time has made the pain worse, because every day something reminds me that I should be holding a baby boy and my heart breaks a little more. But, by far, the most unfortunate choice of words were "make sure you take care of this one" by a girl at my doctor's office. That one stung. She made me feel like I had somehow caused Ian's death.
I don't hold these things against anyone. I have learned a lot over the past few months, like that reading between the lines is a waste of time and that it's possible for someone to care about you and still say something unmeaningly hurtful while you're wounded and vulnerable. The biggest lesson though, has been the power of love. Like when emotion takes over and you don't know what to say, it's ok to not say anything. A simple heartfelt I'm Sorry along with a hug full of love and empathy is all you need. No need for cliche quotes or comparing the situation to a possible worst scenario.
I'd be lying if I said I am not a nervous wreck. And I'd really be lying if I said I'm not still grieving. And while the sadness and the anxiety manage to take over sometimes, most of the time I can be happy and thankful that there is a brand new human being growing inside me. I know our angel in heaven is watching over us every step of the way.
Saturday, 08 September 2012
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, 2012I Miss You
My last appointment before my c-section was today at 10:15. Last week when I made the appointment I would have never imagined I'd be at a funeral home instead.
It's hard to look down and not see my big pregnant belly. It wouldn't be so hard if I at least had my little angel to hold, but the cold, harsh truth is you're gone.
I keep going back to Wednesday night, when I was sitting on the couch, watching my belly wiggle into all sorts of odd shapes. Daddy had his hands on my bump and he was telling me how excited he was about getting to hold you soon. I could see the excitement in his eyes. And your brothers.....wow....they were counting down the days on the calendar. They were anxiously awaiting your arrival as well.
Thursday morning is such a blur. My back started hurting around 5a.m. I didn't think much of it because I was no stranger to aches and pains by this point. But this time it didn't get any better. It only started to get worse. I woke up daddy, called grandma and got ready to go to the hospital. I quickly threw a few things into the diaper bag daddy got us for Valentine's day, including a little pair of yellow duckie pajamas and we took off to the hospital. The pain was becoming more and more intense, and by this time I had realized you hadn't moved much since late Wednesday night. I started to pray for some movement, but it was hard to concentrate with the contractions getting stronger and stronger.
The second that nurse put the doppler on me and couldn't find a heartbeat- I knew. Finding it had never been a challenge and I knew you were gone. They quickly brought an ultrasound monitor and gave eachother strange looks. They were trying not to worry me, but I already knew.
They immediately prepared me for a c-section. Daddy sobbed as they pulled you out with your cord around your neck. I've never heard him cry like that. They put your little head by mine and let me kiss you. Your face still warm from my womb. You were so handsome.
I can't believe you're gone. I miss your kicks and flips inside me. Your things are in boxes in the corner of my closet. Grandma packed them away for me because she knew I wouldn't be able to stand the sight of them.
Right now, I'm angry. Angry that I never got to see your eyes. Angry that I never got to hear you cry. Angry that I have staples across my abdomen, but no baby to hold. Angry that you're gone
I miss you. I hate that I had to sign your tiny body away to a funeral home today. Today, when I should have been making the last minute preparations for your arrival.
It hurts to say your name. It hurts to have to explain to your brothers that you're in heaven. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to want to hold you so badly. I feel so empty. My sight is clouded by tears 90% of the day. Your brothers know I'm hurting for you.
I love you Ian Daniel. I hope you know that. Daddy loves you too. We found out you were on your way at a very strange time in our lives. I was beyond shocked when I found out you were coming, but you brought me peace and joy.
My heart aches for you, my sweet baby. Even when I find a moment of peace, my heart throbs with pain. I don't know how I'm going to get through this, but I promise you, your short life will not be in vain. You have changed who I am forever. I will never be the same.
I love you.
See you in my dreams tonight my precious little piece of heaven.
- Name: Mary
- Location: California, United States
- Birthday: 2/21/1985
- Gender: Female
- Member Since: 1/7/2005
Hi, my name is Mary. I have three boys, two on earth, one in heaven. My precious Ian went to heaven on 2/23/12. I love to craft, sew, crochet, paint, etc...I have an Etsy shop where I sell things I make. Feel free to stop by and add me as a friend or subscribe. I love meeting new people.