Turning 39...

Peanut -

I was always an "old" Momma because I had you after I turned 35.  But, once we got pregnant with you, and successfully had this wonderful, perfect little man, I thought we were in the safe zone.  Especially after you passed the 12-month mark.  Never, ever, did I think I would face my 39th birthday without you.  It's tomorrow.

Last year we celebrated my birthday with Grandma and Grandpa at Cafe Napoli.  It was a sunny, warm weekend and I was so sunburned!  I still have the lovely Lilly Pulitzer scarf and overnight bag Grandpa and Grandpa gave me, and I remember the ivory shirt I wore with the silk bow.  You sat right between me and Grandpa and tried a little pasta, even though you were only 9-months old.  Pasta was deeeeeeeeelicious!  And messy.  But watching the delight on your face with each bite was totally worth the mess.

It makes me think of the day I was asked - would you do it all again if you knew you would lose him?  And, here is my answer, in the form of Garth Brooks (thanks to our doctor):

Looking back on the memory of 
The dance we shared beneath the stars above 
For a moment all the world was right 
How could I have known you'd ever say goodbye 
And now I'm glad I didn't know 
The way it all would end the way it all would go 
Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain 
But I'd of had to miss the dance 
Holding you I held everything 
For a moment wasn't I the king 
But if I'd only known how the king would fall 
Hey who's to say you know I might have changed it all 
And now I'm glad I didn't know 
The way it all would end the way it all would go 
Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain 
But I'd of had to miss the dance 
Yes my life is better left to chance 
I could have missed the pain but I'd of had to miss the dance 


I wouldn't trade the dance for anything in this world or the next.  Peanut, thank you for giving some of the best moments of my life so far.  I love you, to the moon and back.

- Momma

  

Monkey Toes!

Peanut -

Today has been a roller-coaster of emotions.  Too much to share, and almost too much for Momma to process and fully experience.  So, instead, I'm thinking back and hanging on to a piece of you that always brought me laughter...and connected you so tightly to your sweet, loving Dadda.

Your toes.

Monkey toes, to be specific.

I swear, you and Dadda could grip, pull, carry, and bruise just about anything with your toes, once you set your minds to it.  I knew the day you were born - you had Dadda's crazy toes that almost resembled hands.  And you instantly knew how to use them!  You wrestled out of your swaddle using those toes.  You would grip my thumbs with your big toes.  Later, I'd find you grabbing Cheerios between those same, dexterous baby toes.  Monkey toes!

Last summer I took several pictures of you in your swing, and unintentionally got two perfect shots of Mr. Monkey Toe.   This is what I share today.  This is what I hang on to with a smile through the heartbreak.  I miss you.  I miss our life.  But, I would never trade the experience or the memories.

To the moon and back, Peanut.
- Momma

Rainbow Slides for Peanut

Peanut -

Today was a day filled with joyful, positive signs from you.  Everything from special songs, to unexpected butterflies, to brilliant double rainbows emerging from the clouds.  And, in the midst of it all, I felt a sense of hope about the future.

There is still the overwhelming sense of loss and emptiness over everything we won't get to experience with you - everything YOU won't get to do - but a new map of the future is emerging...and I know you will still be very much a part of it, watching us and touching us with your signs of love.

I've included images of the rainbows from this evening, but the pictures don't even begin to do justice to their beauty.  I felt the glow of your Peanut smile in them, and imagined you sliding down side full of laughter just like you used to do on your special Little Tykes play-set slide.  That slide was your favorite place to sit, climb, watch TV and just hang out.  We never realized how brave it made you until Grandma and Grandpa took you to buy your super cool Stride Rite shoes at Laurie's Shoes.  They have a "big kid" slide in the store that runs from the children's area to the main floor.  Before they could stop you, Grandma and Grandpa watched you dart across the platform to the slide and ZOOM! down you went.  Ta da!  They went from horror and fear to peals of laughter in an instant.  I'm so glad they have that very special memory of you.  A memory they shared and I had almost forgotten until I saw your rainbows tonight.

I love you my sweet, awesome, brilliant Peanut.  To the moon and back.
- Momma

Hey Vanna!

Peanut -

One of your favorite parts of our weeknight routine was...WHEEL...OF...FORTUNE!!!!  Much to Momma's dismay.  I didn't love having you watch TV to start with, then...well....there's The Wheel.  It's like toddler crack.  Bright lights, a spinning wheel, people cheering and clapping, and <sigh> Vanna White.  Momma's competition.

Vanna would enter the picture and the world would fade away for you.  No matter what toy or book you were playing with, she would emerge on the screen and you would drop everything.  Dadda would pipe up, in his best Peanut voice, "Heeeh-eeey...wassup girl?  Hey Vanna!  Peanut here!"  And you would clap and cackle, bouncing up and down full of excitement.  It definitely helped when she was wearing a nice, bright, sparkly outfit.  (Note: Often)

Now, when I hear the opening credits for The Wheel I look around for my Peanut.  I know you're still watching Dadda solve the puzzles (and making fun of Pat with Momma) and letting Vanna know you still think she's the coolest, prettiest, most sparkly lady in the whole world.  It's the little things - like Wheel of Fortune - that mean the most.  These are the things I don't want to forget.  Remind me, Nutter Butter.

I love and miss so much.  You snuck up on me a few times today, both in laughter and tears.  I welcome it all and embrace it.  I love you in ways I never knew my heart could love.  To the moon and back, Peanut.

-Momma

Marking Time

Peanut -

It's funny how differently we all track the passage of time.  For me, last Wednesday held incredible significance as it marked 12 weeks.  For others, it is marked by today's date - the 26th since we lost you on January 26.  And, for others it is a particular day of the week or month when they last experienced you.  Like our grief, it is intensely personal and it is always "right."  What's important is feeling it.  Acknowledging it.

In the days after we lost you, I was tormented by thoughts of what happened.  How does a healthy little boy just not wake up?  Did I miss something?  Did you suffer?  The guilt was like a tidal wave, and Momma was drowning in it.  But then, beginning one week after you passed, I started getting a Peanut wake-up call at 4:34 am EVERY morning.  I think it was your way of telling me, "Momma, it's OK.  I'm OK."  It's been months since I've gotten that 4:34 am wake-up call.  But, I got it today.  The 26th.  Peanut, maybe you have your own special way of marking time too.

We now know you did not suffer.  But, we have also come to realize we might not ever get an explanation.  SUDC.  Sudden Unexplained Death in Childhood.  I've added a link to this wonderful organization to the right margin for those who want to know more.  This organization has provided our family with a network of support, information and advocacy.  And, guess what Peanut - you are now enrolled in their very important research study.  Yet another square in the quilt of your legacy.

Sweet, sweet Peanut.  I'm thinking of you, and the way you would sit on my lap facing me, touching my eyelashes with a long, soul-embracing gaze.  Then you'd toss your head back with a giant Peanut giggle.  This perfect goofiness was always followed by you throwing your arms around my neck and whispering into my ear, "Momma."  I love you bunches of noodles - and to the moon and back and back and back again.

- Momma