Saturday, September 12, 2015

Birthday Dance Party

Happy 6th birthday, my amazing Peanut.

While we can't celebrate with you in person on earth, with a cake and big party with all your friends, we are still celebrating with you. Today Momma, Dadda and The Pickle are going to visit lots of butterfly friends, eat birthday cake and we're going to have a super special dance party just for you. The featured song? You know! King Louie's jam, "I Wanna Be Like You" from The Jungle Book, of course!

Your little brother is so excited to celebrate, but can't wrap his brain around the fact that you can't be here. He asked this morning if you could fly in an airplane from Heaven to visit. (Sigh) I fear I'm not doing a great job of explaining you, your death, and the concept of Heaven to him. And now that he's nearing age 4, he is full of curiosity about his big brother Connor. Of course, in his mind, you are his "baby brother" which is also very confusing.

Earlier this week he informed Dadda that they couldn't be best friends anymore because he wanted to be best friends with you. That moment warmed my heart but also shattered me. Your presence, and associated absence, looms over us every day and there are still moments when it cripples me. But, more often than not these days, I smile when I talk about you, think of you, dream of you.

Today we celebrate you. We celebrate your Peanut Effect, and the fact that you made and continue to make this world a better, more beautiful place. You make me a better, more kind and patient Momma. You make us a stronger, more loving family.

Peanut, I hope you and your friends in Heaven can join us for the dance party. My heart will be looking for you. I love you, Peanut. How much? To the moon - and back! Always.

- Momma

Sunday, May 10, 2015 is one of the days I miss you most...

Peanut -

It's been so long since my last post.  The days have grown increasingly hectic thanks to life in general, and your little brother has turned into a full-fledged pre-schooler which requires a whole new level of attention and engagement.  I find these postings now occur on milestone days like your Angel Day, birthdays and holidays.  Like today - Mother's Day in the US.  Momma was only blessed to spend one of those with you alive on earth, and it was truly wonderful.  A day filled with smiling, posed pictures, food and drink, laughter.  How could we have fathomed that a year later we would still be raw with grief, and also very-early pregnant?

The Pickle has brought so much joy to our world and today Momma has felt immensely blessed to be called a mom.  I have the honor of being a mom to you, The Pickle.  To your little sister, Chickpea, who miscarried.  And to your brothers and sister from Dadda's first marriage.  My cup runneth over in so many ways.

But, still.  Today I can't help but reflect on my kids who can't be in my arms.  My Peanut.  My Chickpea.  How different Pickle's life would be with these Angel Siblings.

Today I was called a cry-baby.  It stung and made me angry until I took the time to absorb and reflect.  And, yes.  Yes, I am a cry-baby, today of all days.  I miss my Peanut, in particular.

I respect, love and honor all moms in the universe, but today I hold Angel Mommas in a very special place in my heart.  We find the beauty, joy and celebration in all we have, yet there will always be a hollow space, a rough, jagged scar where loss has attempted to heal.

Today, I call on all Angel Mommas to be cry-babies along with me.  Because, if you are an Angel Momma, there is some joy behind those tears.

Peanut, you have touched Momma's heart in so many ways, and your Peanut Effect continues to astound me.  In the weeks to come, expect more letters.  It's time to do more healing.

I love you sweet boy.  How much?  To the moon - and back!

- Momma

Sunday, January 25, 2015

January Reflections

Peanut -

Tonight marks fours years since I last felt you hug me so very tightly and whisper "Mommaahh" in my ear.  Since you tickled my eyelashes and wove your fingers through mine like knitting a blanket.  Since I believed that, no matter what, children outlive their parents.

January is a complicated month for Momma's heart.  First, we burst with joy when we learned we were pregnant with you over the Martin Luther King holiday weekend in 2009. The warm glow of that memory burns in Momma's heart every January...we so desperately wanted to get pregnant and you were our gift from heaven.  In more ways than we ever realized.

Two years later we woke to find you unresponsive in your bed.  January 26, 2011.  Tomorrow.  My healthy, beautiful, curly haired son with the musical laugh and expressive fingers.  I still see your deep blue eyes and can hear that head-thrown-back laugh you inherited from me.  Tonight I pray in my superstitious head that everyone (Pickle) survives the night.

And then there is the miracle that is your brother.  The Pickle.  Born just a week before your Angel day, he is the glowing beacon who brought light and laugher back to Momma...and maybe to our whole family.  How do I explain tomorrow to him?  At age three he grapples to understand the concept of a brother who exists that he's never met...yet, he knows who you are and can name you in any picture or story.

Four years.  How have we - how have I - survived?  After you died I was confident I would whither way, and life wasn't worth the effort of waking up, showering and getting dressed.  Yet, I went through the motions, wrote thank you notes, went back to work and had dinner with friends.  Eventually we found Henry the Dog, and his furry dog love reminded me what it was to experience a version of Momma-love.  After that we made the decision to get pregnant again...with the help of some wonderful doctors and amazing science/medicine.

Even the miracle of Pickle brought its own heartbreak - his twin sister didn't survive past four months.  But, here he is today.  Smart.strong.  And, in so many ways aware that he is special. Not spoiled special but toughed with an ability to see beyond the retractions of this world.  Often, I hear him having long conversations in his room with stuffed animals and I'm fairly sure this is your way of communicating through him.  It is...delightful.

Tonight I read your brother "Guess How Much I Love You" and gave him a Backyardigans book to read.  Momma reminded him these were to help honor you and he gave me his, "I know, Momma'" look.

Peanut, tomorrow I will celebrate you.  Your life.  I will not focus on those seconds, minutes, hours when we found you at home. administered CPR, rode in the ambulance while praying feverishly, answered police and transplant services questions, held your lifeless body and prayed with our full family, and eventually watched you roll out the door with the County Coroner's office. That was the last time we saw your body - but not your spirit.

Peanut, you are with us - with me - every day.  Sometimes Momma loses sight of what's important and the lessons learned through your death.  But, January always brings those reminders front-and-center.

I love you so much, my sweet Peanut.  And, four years later I miss you as much (if not more) than the day you died.  From the deepest part of my heart, to yours.  And, to the moon - and back.

- Momma

Picture from our 2011 "Happy New Year" card, sent just weeks before Connor passed away.

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Peanut Effect Pete


Today is Christmas Eve.  Another holiday season filled with memories of the two Christmas days we were blessed to spend with you, while watching The Pickle discover the mysteries and joy of Santa.  Your absence looms large for Momma during these family celebrations, and I so desperately wish you were here with us. 

Once again, we decorated a special tree in your honor - your Peanut Tree - during a holiday party for family and friends.  It is one of my favorite ways to remember you, and keep you very much alive and present.  And your little brother is now old enough to discuss you, hear stories about your antics and to realize that this tree and its ornaments are  unique to you.  

Dadda also presented Momma - and the entire family - with a fabulous surprise during our Peanut Tree party.  Back in 2010, when you were still with us on earth, Momma and Dadda discovered a delightful character named Pete the Cat while on vacation.  We came very close to purchasing an original painting of him, but second-guessed ourselves and walked away from the art gallery.  Apparently, in the years since your death, Dadda has been in touch with the gallery about commissioning a Pete the Cat painting in your memory.  And this year - close to four years later - the gallery agreed to contact the artist, James Dean, and share our story.  The painting below is the result...and, frankly, I am speechless.  Delighted.  Amazed.

Your Peanut Effect has once again touched someone else's heart, and this painting will grace our home and watch over our family for years to come.  

Merry Christmas in heaven, my sweet Peanut.  Momma is sending you hugs, butterfly kisses and lots of memory-filled tears today and every day.  

I love you, to the moon - and back!

- Momma


Monday, November 3, 2014

Sharing Your Favorite Things

Peanut -

Momma feels terribly guilty.  The month of October slipped by without a public blog letter, even though there was a constant question that tugged at my heart the entire month.

As Momma and Dadda attempted to navigate the conflicting Halloween costume wants of your little brother (Fireman? Ghost? Spiderman? Broom riding witch/warlock? We landed on Superman for the second year in a row.)  I couldn't help but realize...I have no idea what costume you would have chosen at the big boy age of five.  What sports would you be playing?  What movie would be your favorite?  Is there a particular book that win favor over all the others on your bookshelf?  These are the choices that would normally dictate the costume dreams of a little boy.

It's hard to acknowledge that your favorite things at 16.5 months of age - your Froggy, The Backyardigans - would no longer even be on your radar screen at this point.  It's only as I watch your little brother grow, mature and move through the infant to baby to toddler to independent boy stages that I've had to face this stark reality.  (That and the fact that Nick Jr. seems to have totally discontinued The Backyardigans?!)

Tonight, as I put your little brother to bed, he chose one of your Backyardigan books.  At the end of the book he asked me to repeat the name each character, with a big grin.  I explained that this was your favorite show, sang a bit of the theme song, and talked about each of the characters: Tyrone, Austin, Pablo and Uniqua.  The Pickle just giggled and said, "I know Momma.  I'm going to see him in a few minutes."

I managed to calmly ask, "You're going to see Connor???"

And he just looked up at me and stated, "Yep!  I do lots!  Nighty night.  Thanks.  I love you."

Well, huh.  I've always believed you are here with us, on my shoulder, in the butterflies that visit us, sitting at the kitchen table as we laugh and share stories.  And now there is this.  You're getting to know your brother within the limitations of this earth through dreams.  Yes, Peanut, I believe.

The week before Halloween your brother ran into a table and gave himself one heck of a black eye.  Just like you did in 2010.  The feeling of history repeating itself is nagging at my brain and heart.  Is this merely a coincidence?  Gosh...I have trouble believing in coincidences at this point.  Maybe it is simply bad timing.  I don't know.  What I do know - Momma's vigilance is on steroids for the next several months.

Peanut, I miss your sweet eyelashes, gentle touch, head-thrown-back laugh, blonde curls and deep blue eyes. I miss hearing you exclaim, "Hiiiiiii, kitteah kaaaahhhh!" and whispering, "Mommmaaaaa."  I. Miss. You.

Momma loves you so very much. To the moon - and back!

- Momma

Peanut Froggy - Halloween 2010 (Can you see the shiner over his left eye?)