Tag Archives: baby loss

Good tidings.

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Once again, the hustle of work and bustle of life (and the holidays) have kept me from writing as often as I’d like to—or even need to these days. So, for those of you who read my blog, I apologize. After all, what helps me get through my days is reading the blog posts of others and I know that it can be so disappointing to check in only to see that nothing new has been posted. I really do want to get better about posting more often in the new year.

I’d like to begin by congratulating all of you parents out there—we made it through the biggest holiday of the year. We made it through a multitude of possible obstacles leading up to Christmas. Holiday cards featuring family photos developed on Shutterfly. Those lovely holiday letters. Writing and sending our own cards (if you found the energy to do it). Work parties. Family gatherings. All of those TV commercials that focus on children. Shopping, if you dared—which may have resulted in a few uncomfortable conversations with acquaintances. Stepping into church when you’re questioning faith the most. A possible change in your traditions from years past. Well, I think we deserve more than just a pat on the back! An all-expenses paid vacation, perhaps? Wouldn’t that be nice? Hawaii here I come!!! In all seriousness, though, I hope that you were all able to find a way to make your son or daughter a part of your holiday. The holidays were certainly different for us this year, but not nearly as terrible as we expected—just different.

For one, a very special family gave us the most amazing gift anyone could give. They remembered our son and kept his memory alive in their home for the entire Christmas season. A family in Alabama hand made an ornament for our Rylan and placed it on their tree. My husband and I were speechless. Tearful, but speechless. Our day-to-day doesn’t always allow us the chance to talk about our son. And, because he’s not physically here to share with others the way other families can, we often feel that the love we have for him must often stay inside—only between us and in our hearts, rather than out in the open. This family—whom we’ve never met—did so many things for our family. They thought about Rylan without us prompting it. They believed that his existence and his memory were important. They took the time to make something that symbolized his life. To them it was probably a pretty simple gesture, but to us it meant the world. We will never forget their family—and will also keep their baby, Lucy, in our hearts forever.

Two, I did about 98% of my shopping online this year. It worked out pretty well. I shopped primarily on Etsy.com and managed to get more personalized gifts than if I went out traipsing about the overcrowded malls. It saved me from the additional stress and rush of the holiday. One of the most important gifts that we purchased was from a shop called “Butterstore.” We wanted to give each of our family members an ornament for their tree that symbolized our son. The artist, Shay, creates beautiful, ceramic butterfly ornaments and even worked with me to hand paint footprints and Rylan’s initials on the bottom charm. I can’t thank her enough for creating something so special for us and our family.

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Go to ButterStore by clicking here

We really weren’t sure about decorating our home this year. I pretty much handle the decorating in our house (mostly because I’m so artsy and OCD about it), but I didn’t really feel like I had the energy this time. I was kind of glad when I came home one day after work and Chris had pulled out a few decorations from the basement and left them on the shelf, replacing the few fall items I had put out for Halloween and Thanksgiving. It gave me the little push I needed. I certainly didn’t go as overboard as I normally do, but stringing some lights about the house made it feel warm and cozy. I normally love having strings of lights around and put them everywhere I can—around house plants, under fake snow, and I even caused a shortage once for stringing too many on our tree. I definitely get that from my mom—she keeps lights in her house all year round. Not in a cheesy way—more in that warm, country home kind of way. We also decided to purchase a small tree this year. We wanted it to be Rylan’s tree. We decorated it with ornaments that were special to us and placed a monarch butterfly at the very top. It sits in the front room of our home so I see it every time I pull in the driveway at night after a long day at work. We really weren’t sure if we wanted to get a tree this year at all. To be honest, nothing feels the same anymore and what we normally do in our lives couldn’t feel more abnormal. It was nice that picking a tree ended up being so simple. We stopped at a local place and loved the second tree we looked at—before we knew it we were home placing it in the tree stand. I’m so glad that we decided to get it and it was nice to feel like we were doing something to honor Rylan’s memory in some way.

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We even got the pups to pose in front of the tree for a very brief moment so that we could send out a Christmas text to family and friends on Christmas morning…don’t they look just handsome?! It is my pleasure to introduce you to Sam and Nacho… our spoiled boys definitely give us something to smile about on a daily basis!

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I did make it through my Christmas thank you cards. It took me until the very last minute but I got through them. It was hard, I won’t lie. It took some tissues and some definite courage. I probably sent more cards this year than I ever had—but I felt like we had a lot of people to thank this year.

We decided to stay in this Christmas eve and Christmas day, which was very different as we normally travel all over to see our family. I’ll be honest, it felt odd, but it was kind of nice to be home. Without the rushing around and hours in the car. It was nice to be with Chris and the dogs. We agreed to give each other just a few things, nothing crazy. That was nice because it allowed us to spend more time together in the long run. Rather than being out among crazed shoppers in the weeks leading up to Christmas, we spent our evenings on the couch under a blanket or hanging out in front of our tree listening to carols. On Christmas eve I worked, but that evening was nice. We visited the cemetery to place a tree and candle for Ry. It was VERY difficult, to say the least. I don’t think that I can put into words how that felt. Talk about being in such a different placed than I pictured this year. But I will save all of that for my next post. I really want this one to focus on the positive part of our holiday experience. So that evening we ate dinner, then watched classic holiday shows and sipped cocoa. I also wrapped some gifts pretty late (since I’m always a step behind in life-lol). On Christmas Day we slept in, exchanged gifts, and even gave wrapped-up bones for the pooches to open. Wrapped some last minute gifts, napped a bit, ate dinner, watched a Christmas music special, and even danced in front of the tree to Sinatra (we’re suckers for romance). All in all, it wasn’t too bad. We missed our family, of course. But the day was nicer than we ever imagined it could be in light of what was missing.

We plan to see our family over the next week or so to exchange gifts and spend some time. We saw one set of parents yesterday, as well as my sister’s family. My parents gave us some very thoughtful gifts. A beautiful ornament that they made with a photo of a butterfly on one side, and us with Ry on the other. I cried, but it was really so nice. They gave us necklaces with his name on them and some lighthearted gifts to make us smile. My sister gave us some gifts to make us laugh which was also appreciated.

So here I am, trying to finish my post before running off to work to meet some crazy deadlines. Time to get a shower, take care of the pups, and get my butt to work! At least it’s only one day and than we have a weekend! Thank goodness for that! Well, I hope you all had a lovely holiday and made the most of what you had to work with this year. Happy (belated) holidays!

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Tis the season to be…uncertain.

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The holidays are fast approaching and I find myself feeling more and more uncomfortable. Now, to be perfectly honest, I’m somebody who dreads parts of the holiday season during an average year. My parents have been divorced since I was 8 years old so I’ve been doing to “split the holidays” dance for as long as I can remember… and keep in mind, that was a waltz between two families. Now add my husband’s side and my sisters in-laws to the mix (who always extend an invite) and you can imagine the tug-of-war and guilt that goes along with devising the holiday plans for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and just about every other holiday that people find important. I’ve tried everything from eating multiple dinners in one day to splitting visits across 3 days to scheduling everyone at our house without overlap (which did not really work or eliminate the stress as I’d hoped it would). Either way you feel like someone or some group is being slighted–including yourself. I find myself trying so hard to please everyone else that my own wants are pushed aside. I literally begin stressing about the holidays in September. And, as the families know that we have many to choose from, they also start trying to solidify plans with us earlier to catch us first. I’m not sure if that is intentional or if that’s just how it feels to me after all of this time.

Besides the big questions around “where do we go?” I find that venturing out into public becomes a nightmare around the holidays. People drive erratically and fight over parking spaces in high volume shopping areas. They push each other over to get the last fad-of-the-year toy on the shelf. Checkout lines are a mile long. I always hold off to the last minute then try to knock out all of my shopping in 3 days.

Thanksgiving has never been my holiday. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem giving thanks—I just wish that the turkey and cranberry sauce could be replaced with lasagna and spaghetti and the football—well, that could just disappear all together as far as I’m concerned! Having said all of that, there are many things that I love about Christmas. The lights draped across my neighbor’s rooftops. The piney smell of a real Christmas tree in my living room. Listening to holiday music while I curl up with my husband and dogs on the couch, staring at the lights and decor placed in every corner of our home. Hot cocoa with peppermint and marshmallows. Giving gifts to the people that I care about. Attending church on Christmas Eve–especially when I can hear the chiming of the bell choir playing classic carols. Having our annual backyard bonfire, which has become a tradition among our family and friends.

The holidays are going to be so different than I imagined. I know it may sound selfish, but I felt like this year was our year. I’ve spent so much time sharing in our family’s Christmas celebrations–going to their homes and being a part of their lives. So much time watching the world around us enjoy the holidays with their kids. So much time wishing it could be us and feeling like it would never happen. Then we got pregnant. I thought that this year was going to be our time. To spend Christmas at our home as our own family unit. To begin our own traditions. To share memories that were completely new and different from anything we’d ever experienced. I was so excited. I couldn’t wait to add that hokey “baby’s first christmas” ornament to our tree. To make and hang Rylan’s stocking. To have people as interested in sharing in our family as we do in theirs. I couldn’t wait to hold my baby in my arms while sitting by the tree at night. I couldn’t wait to read him Christmas books from my childhood. I couldn’t wait to bundle him up in cute, holiday outfits and show people how proud I am to be his mommy. I wanted to join that group that sends family photo cards attached to update letters about their family members and what they’ve been involved in this year.

Now, I don’t know what to do. I don’t really feel like doing anything. If I could I’d probably run to Hawaii or lock myself in my room and hibernate until after May 12th.  I considered sending Christmas cards that double as the thank you’s that I haven’t yet sent. Well, you have to write them out to send them, I suppose. I think about wanting to do them, I just haven’t had the emotional energy to actually follow through. So maybe that’s a good option. I want to avoid everything-especially the families that I will encounter in every store, every hallway, every restaurant, every public bathroom, on every t.v. commercial, catalogue, and hallmark movie…among others. As far as traveling to the homes of friends and family this year, I just don’t want to. I feel torn. I want to see everyone–I love them–but at the same time want to be at home–alone. I feel like I put on a brave face for people every single day–at work, for family-birthday celebrations, for visits with friends. Over the holidays I want to be able to feel when I feel, as silly as it sounds. I want to be able to cry the second the sadness makes its way to my eyes–with no discomfort or worry about what others will think or with concern over how uncomfortable it makes them feel. I want to sleep all day if I’m tired. I want the quality time with my immediate family that I expected–even if it has to be without Ry. I want to have some good memories with Chris this year–I think that’s very important. We actually talked about going away. Traveling to some small, Christmas town. Escaping the norm this season–after all, the norm isn’t our life right now. We’ve contemplated the idea…as Christmas towns will surely harbor large amounts of family festivities. So who knows if that will happen. Plus, I work Monday, Tuesday, and Friday that week. Doesn’t exactly make it easy to take a long weekend. Chris and I have talked and decided that we want people to donate money in Rylan’s name in place of buying us gifts. It was Chris’ idea and I think it’s a great one. We just have to nail down some charities that we feel would be best–all we know is that we want it to benefit children. I would also like to find some way to volunteer this season–to help someone/people in need. I’m not sure how yet, but I definitely feel the urge to do something positive for others.

Well, it’s late and I’ve found this post to be a bit of a ramble. I guess my point is that I need the holidays to be considerate of us this year, and I don’t think that’s too much to ask. I want to acknowledge our son’s life even if he’s not in our arms. I want to be comfortable. Spend time at home. To be able to keep our plans unplanned–flexible to change as little or as often as needed to accommodate our aching hearts. I want to have some smiles. I want to feel warm. I want to feel loved.

Before I go I have just one thing left to say.

I miss Rylan so much.

Music to my ears

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In the past few weeks since my computer crashed I learned something very important. Writing this blog has been way more crucial to my survival than I thought. It has undoubtedly been one of the top 3 ways that I manage my grief. There aren’t many positive twists I can put toward the unlucky cards we’ve been dealt. Reaching others and giving parents like me someone to relate to is one of them—even if it means that I only help one person in some small way.

It’s been awhile and I know that I won’t have time to cover everything in 1 post. So, I’ll try to touch on a few and save the rest for the following 50. That being said, this post may be a compilation of unrelated thoughts and feelings. Try to bear with me.

First, I want to talk about music. I’ve reflected a lot on how music can be a bookmark for certain details of our life. Maybe someone remembers what song was playing the moment they received their first kiss. Shared a dance with a special someone they were crushing on. Maybe a song or album reminds them of a feeling–like the freedom of driving down the road in their very own car at 16. We often mark special moments with a song–and we can agonize over picking the perfect one, when the choice is ours. How many people felt perplexed over their wedding ballad? Music can capture so many things. It can warm your heart or bring you to tears-or both at the very same time.

This time in my life has been defined by several songs. Some that I remember listening to when Ry was still alive. Some happy, some sad. The last song I remember listening to with him was a sad moment. It was “Sweet” by Dave Matthews Band. I’d been working late, driving home, and was crying. I was talking to him and apologized for not taking better care of us/him. I told him that if he could just hang on a little longer that things would be different once he arrived. That I was looking forward to changing my life for him. That I couldn’t wait to meet him and dedicate my life to being his mom. I still think about that late night car ride. Here are the lyrics to that song:

**
Try to swim, keep your head up

Kick your legs, never give up, boy
If I could I’d turn it around
Let me out, I wanna get out now
You know it gets so deep 
You know it

You know it, you’re feeling so deep
But if you make it out, it tastes so sweet
Sweet
Sweet

I’m so high, I wanna come down
I’m so old to wanna be younger now
If I could I’d turn it around
Let me out, I wanna go home now

You know the feeling, when you’re in too deep
And if you make it out, the taste so sweet
Sweet
Sweet

Cover me, cover me, cover me
Till I’m gone
Cover me, cover me, cover me
Till I’m gone
Cover me, cover me, cover me
Till I’m gone
Gone

You know the feeling, when you’re in too deep
And if you make it out, it tastes so sweet
Sweet
Sweet

I miss, make it oh yeah
**

At the time the lyrics spoke to me because I wished that I could turn around my work situation. I felt like I was choosing work responsibilities over parental responsibilities. I was going against what I felt was right for me and Rylan. I listen to that song when I’m sad now. It immediately takes me back to that moment in the car. I still wish that I had taken better care of us… worked less… rested more… stopped feeling responsible to do for everyone around me all of the time. Now, more than ever, I wish that could turn things around.

I remember the music that was playing when I started going into labor. I can’t hear a Jack Johnson song without picturing my husband and I laying in our spare room bed, nervous and excited—holding hands, awaiting the baby that we were sure would change our lives forever. If only I knew how true that would be and what that would really mean for us. I think about the drive to the hospital. My favorite, DMB, played in the car. I remembering being very afraid and in a lot of pain. I focused on the music as I tried to breathe through the contractions. After we lost Rylan, the room I was moved to had soft music playing, I think… but all I remember is silence. The initial days home, the funeral, and some desperate moments that followed are marked by the DMB lullaby CD that my friend had given us at the shower. I was so excited to receive it and looked forward to the days that I could share my favorite band with my little guy. As of now, I can’t even listen to it—unless of course I need a trigger for a good cry (which isn’t often). I’ve recently related to a song by a band called “The Weepies.” The name of the song is “World Spins Madly On.” Here are the lyrics:

**
Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
I thought of you and where you’d gone
And let the world spin madly on

Everything that I said I’d do
Like make the world brand new
And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on

I let the day go by
I always say goodbye
I watch the stars from my window sill
The whole world is moving and I’m standing still

Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
The night is here and the day is gone
And the world spins madly on

I thought of you and where you’d gone
And the world spins madly on…
**

I don’t know what the lyrics actually mean, but I’m guessing that anyone in my position may relate the words to their own experience. I do wake up and wish I was dead. My head literally hurts from no sleep and too much thinking about what has happened. Whether I stay “motionless in bed” or choose to move about with people in “normal” life, I feel very alone. Alone in my own sad world. Inside I feel like my heart stopped beating. Like I’m barely breathing. Like hope is a thing of the past. I feel like I want the world to stop and be sad with me. Until I’m ready to move forward—if that time ever even comes. But instead, I’m still while the “world spins madly on.”

Another song that I’ve reflected on recently is one from my childhood. One that gives me a warm feeling. When I was younger my mom and I sang the song, “You Are My Sunshine” to each other. Even today I refer to her as “my sunshine.” It makes me smile. Recently, and I don’t know why, I looked up the words to the song. I feel that some verses—not all, but some—relate to how I feel right now. Here are the lyrics I’m talking about:

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You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You’ll never know dear, how much I miss you
Please don’t take my sunshine away

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You’ll never know dear, how much I miss you
Please don’t take my sunshine away
**

This song now has two meanings for me. It will always remind me of happy times with my mom. And she will always be my sunshine. Part of the reason that I searched the lyrics recently was because I wish that I could’ve shared the song with my child—to pass on what my mom shared with me. With regard to Ry, I definitely felt that he was a ray of light for me. Being pregnant with him and knowing that I was going to be his mom warmed my heart so much. I often dreamt about what it was going to be like once he was born and I just couldn’t wait to hold him. I still dream about him now, but my heart definitely hurts knowing that I’m imagining something now that will never be again. Sorry to be so literal, but I do feel like my sunshine was taken away. I feel pretty dark inside and I’m not sure how to recover most days.

So, those are some ways that music has defined the past few months for me. But please know that music helps me in so many ways. Some nights when I can’t sleep—when my brain just won’t shut off—I put on my headphones and play some relaxing music that I can concentrate on, which has been so helpful. Sometimes music helps initiate a good scream or cry—other times singing along to a happy song changes my mood and helps me make it through my long commute. Music at work and at the grocery store (again, thank goodness for headphones) has been helpful in avoiding or minimizing tough situations. I recommend them for anyone that struggles with family conversations or places that parents and their children gravitate toward. Sharing music instead of TV time has been a great way for my husband and I to connect. And, as I’ve said before, I love the moments where I can listen to my husband sing and play his guitar. It is always so comforting. Listening to old (like 80’s/90’s “old”) music has given us an outlet to be silly.

On a side note: Finding ways for you and your significant other to get a good, deep-in-the-stomach, uncontrollable laugh in is great—I can’t recommend it enough. Even if you have to act like children and resort to good old fashioned tickle fights or wrestling is so worth it—even if you pull a muscle in the process. We all need a way to balance the sadness we’re carrying. And, every minute counts.

Well, speaking of my hubby, he just walked in the door. I have to run. I hope that I get another chance to write real soon. Like I said, I have a lot to say. Thank you, as always, for taking the time to read our story.