Right where I am 10 months and 2 weeks later.

Angie from over at http://www.stilllifewithcircles.blogspot.com/ has for the second year in a row started a beautiful project for all of us to join in on. A chance to talk about where our grief is at this very moment. Last year I was not part of this amazing group of people, oblivious to this corner of the world. Since the loss of our sweet Braedon, this place has been my lifeline. My pain is echoed and understood in the words of so many and I wish I could thank them all for continuing to document their journeys on this path of pain, sorrow and new beginnings.

I wish I knew how to say the words that so many of you deserve. The other Moms and Dads who write so beautifully of their heartbreak and all about grief and even finding new joy.

So bitter so sweet the words that fall across the screen. Beautiful and painful and all together perfect. Words that have carried me across the current of grief over the past 10 months. My heart has ached and I have shed tears for so many babies and cheered on those who have written words of their new little ones and new happiness found.

The past couple of months I have had a hard time, lurking and needing this place and the counseling that it gives. So strange to think that grief counseling counseling can be found in the blogs of others. But it is there and it is treasured by myself and so many others. Those who have gone before me and those who come after with hearts newly broken. I don't comment lately my typed words often feel flat compared to what my mind wants to express, but I read and I care so much for this group of people who I have never met in real life.

We may not find each other in a crowd but I believe if I met any of you for even just a moment, I would wrap my arms around around you and be so happy to call you friend.

On June 13th, just 11 months to the day that Braedon left us, we are scheduled to deliver our newest son. To say that having him on this day was an easy choice would be a lie. We were supposed to deliver on the 14th but our doctor failed to tell us of the scheduling change. We would have had to wait another week if we choose to move the date. Taking us past the 38 mark and into territory I do not wish to visit.

It seems only fitting to say that right where I am today is not where I expected to be at 10 months and 2 weeks exactly. There are moments throughout the day where I rub my belly and I find peace and happiness. We have done all we can to start to embrace the possibility of this new life.

Coming Soon!

But it is the missing life that holds my heart and brings tears to my eyes with just the mere thought. I think of him constantly, missing and wishing. I don't talk of him with others but he is there with me. I thought by now I would feel more comfortable in my grief, yet it still fits me like shoes 2 sizes too small. I can not bring him into the conversation as I so often wish. He is mine and I do not share well. I don't want them to see my pain for it is for me and me alone. In these past months the pain has not lessened just become more bearable and easier to carry.

So missed. 

I forget to dust his shelf. Today I ran my hand across it and picked up dust particles with my fingertips. I love him no less but I find myself not thinking of these things. He is in a box. It is not him but it is all I have of him. I resent this box of ashes. I love this box ashes. I open the lid sometimes and touch the package of grains. His small bits and pieces. Seems so strange to me but even today I have to touch. But I no longer have to dwell. I know he is with me and not on a shelf. I carry him in my heart. He is the blood pumping through my veins, the words whispered in my ears. I feel him when the wind touches my skin. I ache to hold him in my arms but I take peace in knowing that he is still a part of me. For as mothers we never really let them go once they leave our bodies.

I keep his picture on my phone. I find myself looking for reasons to glance at it throughout the day. To see him, to constantly remember, to never forget each detail of his little nose, his little lips. Everything about him I want to hold on to.

Right where I am at this moment is hopeful, sad, happy and so many other emotions. I miss him, I wish he was here with me starting to pull up and perhaps learning to walk. When I came home from the hospital empty handed I thought my world had ended. I was stuck in a deep dark pit of despair and could not see a way out. Now I can see the joy that life still has to offer. There is still beauty out there. There is still happiness to be found. Life moves forward and I will go with it but he will go with me.

We are good.

I hold my breath. Hold just a little longer. I bite my tongue and plaster on my smile. It comes out in my voice, happy, sing song happy. We are good.

Those questions, those awful damn questions. Do you really want my answer? Do you want the truth? If I tell you will I drag you into my pain and sorrow? My fear so great, my heart swelling with hurt, black death that surrounds my soul. Rings of tree inside of me, years seem to have been taking away.

They want to throw me a baby shower. I have nothing but a box of clothes and a few blankets. I wanted every thing else to go away. To leave the emptiness. Maybe to help forget. But of course I cried for it all to be back. For the voided spaces to be filled. Now I can't manage to bring anything home. I shop and I look and then I cry. This little boy deserves more but I can't imagine it. I told them okay. Tempting fate, screw you death leave us alone.

Everyone wants to know, are you excited? Anxious, nail biting anxious but excitement? Maybe sometimes.

I see the butterflies all around these days. White butterflies, maybe they are moths but I prefer to think of them as butterflies. They fly in pairs. Landing briefly together and fluttering back away. I think of him out there all alone, he has no one to fly with. As much as it hurts at least if this little guy leaves us as well, they will be together. Awful thoughts, I wish they would go away.

My amniotic fluid is low, the perinatal doctor points this out with a pleasant voice. Look at how tight he is in there. Our big concern, well he tells me is that he is measuring small as well. Potential for a good outcome, okay. Not sure what to take from all of this.

My OBgyn whom I no longer think has a pleasant face, she just looks like that. Well she says it is a major concern but there is not much we can do but monitor him. Here we are again with the hurry up and wait. We go for another scan next week. If he is too small they may decide to take him early.

The NSTs started, he passed but only after a lot of prodding and some juice. Not very reassuring.

I read with my breath held of the new babies who have made it and the new babies who have left us and I hold my breath harder. Where will I be? June 14th is scheduled at the hospital.

Please don't die, please don't die, please don't die. Please.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop..

I know it is awful, I am a bit ashamed of myself. Hiding away in silence, pretending that I don't need this place or all of you. Pretending that I am not the Mother of a dead baby and that my heart is not broken. Avoiding talking about how I feel. Muted, silent and not sure where to be or how to be.

It hurts, every day. Every moment. The wind blows and it hurts.

For Braedon's nine month anniversary, I spent the day worrying about tornadoes then the evening worrying about this new little one. Had the lovely experience of spending time in Labor and Delivery being monitored. All things turned out well. On the 3rd we go in for our scan with the Peri. In the meantime, I am stressed out beyond belief. I stay busy with work, kids and school. I don't sleep, I think and think and think. And just keep thinking we have made it this far, 30 weeks and we are so close.

I feel that my doctor has failed me and at this point I can't really do much but stay with her practice since several doctors I have called are hesitant to take me this late in the game with a high risk situation. She tells me there really is not much we can do but wait. I know there is more we can do, more monitoring, more testing but she doesn't see the point.

This little one is very inactive, rarely moves and I have not gained a lot of weight. Yet, there has been no extra precautions recommended. Ughhh I keep thinking it is going to take me becoming a crazy, screaming manic in order for them listen to me. Even the E.R. doctor seemed surprised that we had no extra testing being done.

So we wait, I hold my breath and hope. That is all I can do. And I miss him and I miss me and all that should have been.

18, 19, 20 ready or not here I come.

My heart would beat a little faster, the anticipation more than I could bear. My hands would find their way up to cover my mouth as I bit the inside of my cheek. My giggles would give me away if I wasn't quiet. My inner voice would tell me to cool it.

Under porches, up trees, behind trashcans. I was little and liked to hide. In the dusk was the best time. Fireflies twinkling, the darkness just there beyond the light, letting us know that dinner would be soon, then baths and bed.

We played that game often. Hide and Seek, tag and others.

Childish fantisies they never really leave us. I know it is all in my head but I can hear it. A little giggle, escaped from between tightened lips. Ready or not here I come...

Where is he? Is he hiding up there in the trees, under the porch, behind something big enough to hide his shadow?

I will find you, I will look for you forever. This game I will not tire of.

Maybe if I look down, I can follow his footsteps. Would he be wearing shoes, or barefoot like a summer time nymph?

Come out, come out where ever you are!

Henry Van Dyke

Long ago he left me, long and long ago:
Now I wander through the world and seek him high and low;
Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,--
Ah, if I could hear his voice, I soon should find his face.
Far away,
Many a day,
Where can Barney be?
Answer, dear,
Don't you hear?
Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!

Birds that in the spring-time thrilled his heart with joy,
Flowers he loved to pick for me, mind me of my boy.
Surely he is waiting till my steps come nigh;
Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die.
Heart, be glad,
The little lad
Will call some day to thee:
"Father dear,
"Heaven is here,
"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"

To miss

So sneaky, hanging there in the shadows. Just beyond the light. It taps me on the shoulder when I least expect. My heart skips a beat and I jump just above the ground.

I was just sitting there, having lunch. Greasy pizza, not the best choice. Looking out the windows into the world moving by. I thought I had built up my defenses better. Was I not already a well trained warrior prepared for all of this? My helmet fit snug upon my head, my body armour strong and resistant to any passing dings. Just like that I was back in the trenches.

My old enemy by this point, months have passed and my acceptance has become stronger, but prehaps not just yet. There are bullets left in that gun over there. They are whizzing past my head.

My army of one against that old thing. Guilt!

I can't escape. I keep thinking I have this. I won. Look at me, no white flag must I wave. But there in the shadows it lurks. Waiting for that surprise attack.

I go over the details, read my mental maps with detailed accuracy. What was I thinking? So many mistakes I can pinpoint. I did this, I did that.

It is all my fault. It resonates within my soul. Will it ever go away. Will I win this war, I have lost so many battles at this point. There is no tie here. One of us will have to surrender.

It hurts, simply impossibly painful. To miss, to wish, to need, to hurt, to cry, to love, to break.....

I just realized that I am pretty much bonkers and should probably be locked up in a mental institution for a good long while!

After a nice trip outside, the sun peeking out and the weather about warm enough to skip any type of overcoat, I discovered I have lost my mind.

Next week I will be traveling to another location for my job. Just a day trip but I will have a passenger. Which of course means I need to clean out my filthy and I mean filthy car. I am not a messy person. At times I can be a bit OCD about cleaning but since November 2010 I have been incapable of taking care of things like I should.

My pregnancy with Braedon left me exhausted, tired, unable to stay awake some days. I slept a lot! More than I should have. Then we moved across the country. Which just added to my exhaustion. Packing, cleaning, unpacking, cleaning and getting adjusted to a new location. Bone weary exhaustion.

Then he died and a part of me died and I was still tired. Grief is heavy and drags you down in the abyss. Laying in a darkened alley, dirty broken, abused and left with legs that no longer work. A puddle of muddy water that I wallow in beneath the broken street lamps. Sirens off in the distance.

The car is littered with papers. Leaves from a walk in the woods months gone by. Envelopes from opened mail, kids jackets and school work. Shoes that hurt my toes and were tossed aside in exchange for whatever pair that I had with me that felt better. Broken toys, unbroken toys. But the worst is the papers.

I asked my husband why did I let it get this way? Going from one pregnancy to pretty much the next with grief thrown in does not help. Because I am still exhausted. So very tired. I fall asleep sitting on the couch after work. Lately dinner is whatever is easiest and quick. I know that some exercise would probably help but I don't even have the energy to get started. I stay on my feet at work a lot. This is about all of the exercise I can muster these days.

Ahhh but these papers. Why are they all there? I really just thought it was because I was tired. How silly of me. Silly, crazy, a bit demented me!

My husband starts cleaning, lifting each folded receipt I have thrown to the ground or stuffed in a cubby somewhere. May 2011? Really. Leaves? Why broken, dried leaves from a walk in the woods?

It all comes to me so clearly, in a moment of pure insight. They are bits of him, in my mind. These tiny scraps of nothing but so much of something. He was alive when I had them. The leaves from when I carried his urn at my side. The receipts for ice cream which I ate day after day towards the end of his life. The heat was unbearable and a vanilla cone is cheap. As I started to shake and cry. I thought, Wow, I have really lost my mind. I thought I was just lazy but no it is all a pipe dream. Each piece of something, I need it. It is something to keep me holding on. Holding on to what I can't have.

He took the car to clean it out. All of this will now be left in a trashcan by a vacuum at a dirty car wash. Eventually they will make their way to a landfill, to be mixed amongst the debris. There they will disintegrate as the days go by. Rain and heat will drag them into the ground. Turning into soil as the years pass. One day perhaps a tree will grow where these bits and pieces landed. Will this tree carry a piece of him? This is my mental state, attaching something to nothing. Looking for a shadowy glimpse of a life that no longer exists.

And here I am still in this puddle there in that alley and soon my car will be clean. And now I don't have that memory to refer back to. As time goes by, I will forget and I will have left is a few pictures to remind me and a place in my heart that will never heal. Longing for a baby that will never be.

What am I doing here?

I have a paper to write. Long and boring about a topic I have no interest. But it has to be done. So I ask myself why am I here?

On nights like this, I often browse blogs. I read and reread, try to think of things to say. Sometimes I comment sometimes I don't. I often tell myself leave a note, just a note to say you stopped by. But I feel unworthy. My words weak and not enough.

The stories, the pictures, and the tears. They leave me devestated and sad. Why are we all here? Why? The question there is no answer for.

The husband is at work, the children are in their room. I can hear the video games boring holes into their brains. I allow it. I know I should stop the insanity but they are boys. No school tomorrow. They have a 4 day weekend. So why not? Should I entertain them? At this age, they care so little to do arts and crafts with Mom and of course I am, no really I am, supposed to be writing a term paper.

I felt this way when I was round with Braedon. Tired, disinterested in life. School just a boring distraction. But if I don't finish, what is the point? I dream of this life. I have my office with my Master's hanging on my wall. I tell my children you can do this. I have to set an example. But somedays it is just beyond my grasp. I can write here, I can read others words. But to write a paper, to read a text book. Bahhhh, I no longer want to make this choice.

Hang on, hold your breath for a moment. You can do this. That is my pep talk to me.

I dream of a home in the woods or on a solitary island. I would live off the land under the radar. Off the grid. We would grow our own food, sew clothes from cotton we have picked. We would can fruit and eat raw vegtables. Milk from our own cows. Our children would swim in their underclothes in the water near our house. We would go to sleep listening to the sounds of silence and peace.

But we don't have that option. So here I am distracted from what I should be doing and dreaming of what I can't have. Life is complicated and well sometimes it is just a drag. Yes, I said drag.

I am taking the day off from life on Sunday. I am going to walk in the woods. I don't care if the water is freezing, I will peel my socks off and dip in my toes. It is time for a refresher of sorts. A day of peace and no worries.

I need a day to just be, to miss him and all that he was without interruption. A day for Braedon and Mommy to reconnect. A day to not mourn but celebrate the life that he was for his 9 months inside of me. Away from work, school and video games.

And as I type all of this and think of him, these little kicks inside of me are doing their best to keep me grounded and focused on the here and now.