what is the absence of feeling?

   I don't know any other way to explain how I feel other than I don't feel anything right now.  Maybe my mind is just quiet and I don't know what to do with that.  Maybe this is God's way of giving me a break for a minute.  I feel like I am floating under water.  I can hear distant echos of what is around me.  I know that Danny and the dogs are asleep right next to me, but it feels strange in here.  Empty.
My mind has been running faster than my body can keep up.   It is not that anything important is happening, it is only the stuff of life.  Work, grocery shopping, eating and sleeping.  Simple things, but I feel like I am constantly trying to catch up.
I used to be able to run circles around people at work.  After Bridger left, I was reduced to half speed.  Now that Finleigh is gone, I feel like I am running at half of that.  I know that I need to learn to slow down, but part of me equates that with being incapable.  I have always been good at work.  Not always good at the other stuff, but work has been my security blanket and as time passes, it becomes less so.
I go through these cycles.  I try to so many things because,  let's face it, I don't have kids to raise.  But then I become overwhelmed and defeated.  Then sad.  And then empty....  and that brings me back to right now.  The absence of feeling.  I don't know if that's good or bad, but either way, it just is.
I bought a Christmas tree this year.  (The year after Bridger left I gave away almost everything that we owned that had to do with family- including the tree)  this was a big step as I had no intentions of decorating for Christmas again.  It hurt though, more than I anticipated.  By the time I left the store I was shaking and my stomach was in knots.  I don't think I can put it up this year, but it's here, in the house.
Finleigh would have turned 9 months last week.  5 years ago, right now, Bridger was doing his best to hang in after a surgery to try and save his life.  With both of my sweet babes, i have so many days amd so many memories that are tied together.  Whether during my pregnancies with them or during their lives or throughout the time since they left, each day means something different.
Only 13 more days until the shortest day of the year, then the daylight will increase.  Here's hoping that it will help this year more than it did last year.
Please pray for all of the mommies and daddies with empty arms tonight, I have a feeling they need it....

Bridger and Finleigh,  mommy loves you!

again.....

I was hysterical as I tried to type this post.  I could not see through my tears and I was having difficulty catching my breath.  Thanks to my computer not working, I was forced to catch my breath and settle down a bit.

Ava is gone.  She was in her mother's arms as she took her last breath early this morning.  Though her earthly body endured so much and her prognosis was poor, I still hoped that she would be the odds.  She already had so many times before.  You can read about her sweet little life and tender death at avalonranae.blogspot.com

I began following this sweet girl's journey a few weeks ago whem she was placed on ECMO
In order to try and save her life.  Many children do not make it off of ECMO, but she did.  And she continued to fight for days afterward.

Her journey brought back so many memories of Bridger's life and death.  Both of our children thought that Primary Children's was their home.  So many times Ava's parents and Danny and I were told to take our children home to die.  In the end, they both coded.  In the end, we both said to stop resuscitation.  And them comes the journey back to your home state to start "real life" again.

Amber, if you ever read this, I am not trying to take away from you journey with Ava by noting the similarities of our journey with Bridger.  I just feel so strongly tied to you and your sweet baby girl.

Now Ava's parents have joined a club whose existing members cry whenever someone new joins.   Though we don't want our group to grow, we stand with open arms and breaking hearts to those who enter.

I was so furious when I first red Amber's post.  I did not want Amber to have to hold her child's cold and lifeless body!  I don't want her to know what it is like to plan her daughter's funeral!  I hate that yet another mommy will know the pain that still haunts my heart and soul.  And no my friends,  the pain does not improve!!!

Please pray for Ava's parents and her family.  They will need all of the love amd support they can get.

an overwhelmed, but empty heart...

In so many ways I am at a loss for words tonight, but in the same breath I am overwhelmed with the happenings around me.  As I check in on those I know from this "angel mommy" life I lead, I find that one friend just buried their second child and find a new friend who has lost 3 sweet babes.  All the while, there are many fighting, crying and praying for their child to have at least one more breath...one more word....one more smile.

On this side of life, what wouldn't we (angel parents) give to feel their soft skin under our fingertips, to see their eyes, to hold them close....

Every time I hear of more parents having to give their children back to God, I feel the pain all over again.  I know what is coming for them and it hurts.  I pray that they may find peace and comfort, even though they may never understand why their children had to be the ones to go.

Some parents are so good at expressing themselves and it seems as if they are writing what my heart is screaming out.  I have not written as much since losing Finleigh, who knows why?  But I read and I hear my feelings being expressed all around me.  On blogs, in prayers, in music.  My story is being told.  But is it my story that needs telling?  No.  I am still here.  People know me, they know where I have been.  They do not know my children and, in this life, they never will.  In fact I feel like I only know a small part of them as well.  I know that I know them better than anyone, but there is still so much more to know......

How would they react to their first birthday cake?  Or swimming for the first time?  What would they think of snow? Would our firey little Finleigh eat peanut butter cups before bed like her daddy?  Or would my beautiful Bridger continue to be mellow and thoughtful as he grew up?  I like to imagine how life would have been.  What we might have done had things been different.  It doesn't usually go very far because, how can it?  It won't happen here and I don't know how it will be there.

I imagine that I will not struggle with depression and anxiety.  That just the thought of going in public will not exhaust me and send my mind spinning.  I dream about taking them to the park or swimming.  About Danny teaching them both how to throw a ball.  I think that Bridger would probably rather play with the dogs while Finleigh would up for anything new, she would probably be daddy's little girl.

We bought a king sized bed last year in hopes that if we had more children, we could all snuggle in our bed to watch movies or just hang out.  How big our bed feels at times....empty. 

The winter is coming.  The days are getting shorter and I wonder how bad it will get.  I know we will make it through, but what does that mean?

I am still trying to find my purpose on this earth since, at this point, it is not raising children of my own. I am thinking of volunteering to be a baby holder at the hospital.  This is for babies whose families are from out of town and can't be there as much to hold and love them.  This way, I could help.  This way, I could give some of the love that still floats around inside of me.  We will see.

Let's not bring up the "you can adopt" idea please.  We know that it is always a possibility and maybe one day it will be, but for now, what comes to mind for me is that adopted children can still die.  At this point, my heart cannot bury any more.

Again, I am overwhelmed, but empty at the same time.  What a strange feeling, almost numbing.  Well, this life goes on.  It has been 4 years and 3 months since I last held my son alive and 7 months and 6 days since I last held my daughter.  There is nothing like holding my own children.  Even if I had only held them once, it is a feeling I wound never give back.  It is like submerging your soul into a warm bath, it melts away all that is around you.  I know that I have said it many times before, but with my babies, I had purpose.  I knew what that purpose was.  With them gone, I am not so sure.  I am looking, always looking, but not sure.

Lord, I pray for the wisdom to know what path you would have me follow and for the strength to take those steps.  Please give my sweet babies a kiss from their mommy.

I love you my sweet peas!

Calling all prayers, thoughts and well wishes.....

I stumbled upon this blog last night and have been unable to get this sweet girl and her family out of my mind.  Please send your prayers and positive vibes out to Ava and her family....
www.avalonranae.blogspot.com

Happy #5

5 years ago today, you came out of my belly and eventually into my arms.  5 years ago, right now, I was in recovery and daddy was in the NICU holding you.  5 years ago, you opened our hearts to a love like no other and we have not been the same since that moment.  5 years ago, as Life Flight took you to PCMC, they stopped by my room so that I could see you for a moment.  And even in your incubator, you pressed you left foot to the glass.  The same foot that poked me in the belly and would push back at my hand.  The same left foot that you would stick out of your stroller on walks.  5 years ago today, you became my hero.  Anything difficult that I have had to do in my life will never compare to the things that you endured in this world so that we could have and hold our baby boy.  5 years ago today, even though I was terrified of what was to come, I never thought that I would be celebrating your birthdays without you here to blow out the candles.  5 years ago today, a miracle was performed and I am so grateful that you and God decided that daddy and I could be part of it!  Bridger, you showed me how to love unconditionally and I thank you.  I thank you for picking me and daddy!  I that you for all of the lives that you have touched.  I thank you for loving me and I pray that you know how much I LOVE YOU!

Now go be a good big brother and share your cake with Fin.

Happy Birthday my beautiful boy!  I love YOU!

And the fog is lifting.........again.........

Here I have been, minding my own business for the last several months, wondering how I could be functioning so well after burying my second child.  Well here is the answer......the fog was still thick.  I couldn't see what was coming.  I couldn't feel the emptiness around me and in my heart.........Yet.

In my experience as an "angel mom" (what an awful thing to be experienced in), I figured that the last couple of weeks being rough were because of Bridger's angel day coming up.  I have always had a hard time in the days leading up to his Angel day and birthday.  But now we are past his Angel Day, and though we are only 3 weeks from his birthday, something is off.

I feel so heavy.  It is exhausting holding my head up (and not just because it is big :)).  Carrying my body around feels like such an effort.  Trying to hold my concentration on different tasks is difficult.  Even as I post this, I can't help but zone out until I only see the white on the computer screen.  I feel like I have to shake my head to get the sand out.

This is real.  My babies are gone.  My faith is not lost.  I know they are safe.  I know they are not suffering.  I know I will see them again.  But that does not protect me from the pain.  Today, it is not a sharp, shooting pain, but a pull and push.  I feel like I am being pulled apart from the outside, my ligaments and muscles stretching to the point of aching.  At the same time, I feel a pressure all around me as if I am being vacuum sealed inside of something I cannot see.  It is suffocating, this feeling.  At times it is difficult to catch my breath.

Breathe, I have to breathe.  Keep my eyes open, I will try not to fall back into the darkness of the last 4 years.  Their deaths must not be in vain.  I am still here because there is some important work I have to do.  I don't know what it is, but I know it is something that I must complete before I can return to my babies.

I thought that I would know what to expect having already lost one child.  I thought I knew the process, the time frames.  But this is different.  It's not just losing another child.  Now I have lost both of my children.  By my own choice, I will not be able to give birth to any more of my own children.  Even if I could, I don't know that my heart could take losing anymore.

We are "empty nesters" at 31 years old.  I feel empty.  We feel empty.  It is a strange feeling, wondering what you will do for the rest of your life at 31 years old.  The right answer here is NOT "have you thought about adoption?".  We know we could adopt, but adopted children can die too and as I stated above, I don't think my heart can take burying another child.  I will never say "never", but thinking about having more children just makes me feel more isolated.  It does not give me hope.  It sends me into a tailspin of what might happen.  All that I can handle right now is going to work each day and coming home.

One of my patient's children asked me today about my babies.  She asked how long it has been since Finleigh died and I told her April 2.  Innocently, she said "so you are still grieving".  I know what she meant, but this is not how I took it.  Of course I am still grieving, she has only been gone for 4 months.  My son has been gone for 4 years and I am still grieving.  And so far, it hasn't gotten better.  I have just gotten better at handling it.  I have gotten better at smiling for people.  I have gotten better and keeping it together.  I have gotten better at these things for others, not for me.  It doesn't make me uncomfortable when I cry, it makes you uncomfortable.  I am okay feeling sad and lost at times, others want to fix me or "take it away".  I don't need it taken away, I want to feel it.  I want all of the reminders of my children, painful or not.  I want every part of it.

Today is not a good day.  It's not a bad day, but not a good one.

Happy Angel Day my sweet boy!

Today is Bridger's 4th Angel Day.  I cannot believe it has been 4 years.  As I brush my teeth tonight, I cannot help but remember 4 years ago this morning when I was brushing my teeth as I watched my sweet boy give his best attempt at taking his pulse oximeter off of his foot.  Moments later, my world spiraled out of control.  His breathing changed.  He began to desaturate.  His face turned purple.  I tried to get his CPAP on while our pulmonologist called the Cardiac ICU team for assistance.  I was pushed out of the room where I watched from a window as they tried to save my baby.

They did not have the correct size of tube to intubate him.  The nurse struggled to get fluid pushed into his line.  I went back in.  All of the sudden, I knew he was gone.  By now, I was on the phone with Danny.  The medical team wanted to start CPR.  I said "no".  I asked Danny, he said "yes".  He wanted to say goodbye to his son.  I knew he was gone.  I let them try, but I knew it would be of no use.  After a few minutes, I told them to stop.  I always knew that if his heart stopped, that was him telling me that it was time for him to go.

And so he was gone.......

The nurse had me leave the room while she cleaned him up and removed the oxygen and IV tubing.  I held him for hours as we waited for Danny to fly in from Utah.  Bridger and I were in the Texas Children's Hospital, applying for a heart and lung transplant.  Bridger died around 10:30 that morning.  Danny got to us around 5:00 that evening.  He had not seen his son in person for 9 days.  When he arrived, I was lying with Bridger in my bed.  The blood had settled to the back of his head and body.  He was cold and lifeless.

These moments are burned in my brain.  Often, I still have nightmares.  I imagine that Danny does as well.  These are not images that easily disappear.  The next few days were a blur.  Dave, a dear friend, who lives in Texas drove Danny, myself and my parents around as we made arrangements with the mortuary.  We had to get permits to fly his body home as well as an airline who would take him with us.  We did not want to leave Texas without him, so we waited as these arrangements were made.

We all came home.....

I titled this post "Happy Angel Day" because in so many ways, it is a blessing.  On this day, 4 years ago, Bridger was freed from his struggling body.  He no longer had to live with a broken heart.  His life was no longer contingent on multiple medications and oxygen.  He did not have to suffer anymore.  The reasons that make this a sad day are selfish.  I don't get to hold him in my arms.  I don't get to hear him laugh.  I don't get to pour every ounce of my life into caring for him.  Being a mommy and taking care of my babies was such an amazing gift that I will never be able to repay.  I have never known a greater purpose for my life that I have when my children were alive.

One day, I will have a Happy Angel Day too.  On that happiest of days, I will return to my sweet babies.  I will hold them in my arms, never wanting to let go.  I will feel the softness of their skin, smell their sweet scents and hear their mischevious giggles.

One day....

To my sweet Bridger James, I love you sooo much.  Happy Angel Day!