The Book of Life: Chapter 2011

Peanut -

Today, New Year's Eve, marks the end of 2011.  The end of a year that began with hope and promise, and quickly devolved into the Worst Year of Our Lives.  Tomorrow will usher in 2012, with its own potential of being a fresh start, full of new dreams.  And with it begins a year that will never know my Peanut.

On this day last year you and I were home together, dancing joyfully to James Blunt singing "Stay the Night" on The Today Show.  We watched the severe weather reports as tornados ripped through the St. Louis area while we hunkered down in the basement, you tooling around in your brand new Cozy Coupe.  Later that day Dadda and I made you your first taste of filet mignon and asparagus, much to your delight and amazement.  Your little face and its awed expression said it all, "This is DEEEEEeeeee-licious!  I. Love. Food!"  We talked of New Year's Eve celebrations to come, making this meal our tradition, eventually having you invite friends over...the future was bright, wide open and full of Peanut Possibilities.

Just over three weeks later, out of nowhere and without explanation, your life ended while you slept.

So much of the rest of 2011 is a foggy blur to Momma's memory.  So much of the year was spent trying to just figure out how to live without you.  How to make sense of this world.  How to not be bitter, angry, and without hope.  It would have been so easy to abandon hope.

Yet, out of the ashes hope has risen, in the form of your little brother.  The Bean.  It now looks like he will arrive in 2012, and for that I am thankful.  I know a year is a year is a year, but...having him arrive in 2012 has been my hope, my prayer, since we confirmed we were pregnant last spring.

Peanut, Momma has always viewed life as a series of chapters, that eventually create our own very individual book.  The chapters vary in length, duration, joy, pain.  Some chapters introduce people and events that will be a part of our story forever.  Others enter and exit, but leave their mark.  We can't write our story in advance.  We can't see how it will end.  This outlook has allowed me to bid chapters farewell without drama or too much heartache.  Until this year.

The closing of 2011 feels monumental.  The idea of a new chapter, a new year, in which you haven't lived is heart-stopping.  2012 is the beginning of a lifetime of years, of chapters, when we will honor you through memories, stories and laughter.  But, no more hugs.  No more new tales of Peanut adventures.  After three years touched by the wonder and joy of you, this chapter now closes.  Another milestone.  Thud.

I don't know what 2012 will bring.  But, I have hope.  Hope that grows and burns brighter, day by day.  Just like my love for you, Peanut.  To the moon and back!

- Momma

The Dream

Peanut -

Momma's sleep has been restless and fitful these last few weeks.  As The Bean grows there just isn't a comfortable position or a way to get a good night's sleep.  I've found the more interrupted my sleep, the more I dream...and lately that has meant more Peanut Dreams.  These are wonderful and welcome dreams - possibly brought on by the anticipation of The Bean, the holidays, your looming anniversary.  Maybe all of the above.

This morning I was tossing and turning beginning around 4:00 am.  I could feel The Bean stretching, turning, kicking and my imagination kicked in while I dozed.  In the dream world you and Dadda were up early, eating breakfast together, giggling, and trying to let Momma get some rest.  But, eventually the temptation was just too much - the two of you came running down the hall with Henry the Dog in tow, into the bedroom and WHAM! jumped on the bed.  You crawled up to Momma's pillow and smothered me with kisses, cupping my face in your tiny hands, "Momma, I love you!"  Then, a giant bear hug and a full family snuggle while The Bean kicked, full of happy anticipation.

Oh, bliss.

I know that isn't reality, and never will be.  But, maybe a different version is playing out.  A version where you are everywhere, but we can't physically reach out and touch you.  You are influencing the way we parent, how we appreciate what we have, how we treat others, and how we love.  In dreams - and only in dreams - I will get to see you laughing, nose nuggling with me, touching my eyelashes with delight, and touching my soul with your clear, blue eyes.

This version will never, ever, ever feel sufficient.  But, I have to learn to appreciate it and live with it.  Do I feel cheated?  Yes.  Am I jealous of all my friends who are watching their children grow up, enjoying all their milestones?  Yes.  Am I resentful of all the people who are having their second, third, fourth children without any sense of fear?  Yes.

Am I thankful for the time, love and memories with you?  Yes.  Am I eternally grateful for The Bean?  Yes.  Am I hopeful?  Yes.  Do I choose to live with love, rather than anger?  Yes.

Peanut, I dream of you all the time...awake and asleep.  I miss you all the time...awake and asleep.  I send you all my love, to the moon and back...awake and asleep.

- Momma

Caution: Milestones Merging Ahead

Peanut -

Yesterday, December 26, marked 11 months.  Eleven unimaginable months.  Eleven long months that have tested the limits of everything our bodies, brains and spirits thought they could handle.  Eleven months since Momma last hugged her Peanut.  And, even though the months have been long, it still feels like just yesterday since I watched you toddle across the room to bang on the TV screen, or play with your Elmo telephone.  Or, give me a Connor-kiss.

Yesterday also marked the last day of Procardia - the medicine Momma has been taking to slow down Baby Bean's arrival.  We needed to get into Week 37, which started a few days ago, but Momma also needed to make sure The Bean didn't arrive on the 26th.  As silly as it may sound, I just can't bear to have his birth share a date with your death.

But, in an amazing, wonderful twist of fate, another little ray of joy entered the world yesterday.  Joey's mom - Joey, who passed away just days after you - had a little baby girl yesterday.  She and I have shared our waves of grief, our struggles to make sense of life, our highs and lows, and our side-by-side pregnancies for the last 8 months.  Something about her birth yesterday makes so much sense to Momma, and it reinforces just how close you and Joey still are to this world, and to our hearts.

Peanut, we are now entering an interesting 3-4 week stretch of highway.  A zone that probably needs its own large, blinking, neon caution sign.  Warning!  Caution!  Joy, sadness, confusion, the beginning and end of life - all merging ahead!  Just as we welcome The Bean, we will be acknowledging your 1-year angel milestone.  I still have no idea what to call that date.  Your anniversary?  Angel date?  Nothing seems accurate or appropriate.  The day the world turned upside down?  <sigh>

I am so worried my brain won't know how to manage these conflicting emotions.  That it might start to confuse you and The Bean.  That fear will take over, and I won't know how to celebrate his birth and life.  My heart - and others who have traveled this road - assure me that won't be the case.  And, as I've learned over the last year, only time and experience will tell.  Anticipation and fear won't help.  So, for now, I try to simply live day-by-day.

Peanut, I read an Earnest Hemingway quote yesterday that seemed oddly appropriate for this danger zone:

The world breaks everyone, 
and afterward, 
many are strong at the broken places.  
(E. Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms)

While I don't believe this last year has made me stronger, it has forced me to band-aid and superglue the broken places in my soul.  And, a new Momma has emerged.  Maybe, just maybe, it is this new, patched-up version of Momma that will have the capacity to make sense of the next few weeks, months, years.  Stay tuned.

Peanut, I miss you every second of every moment of every day.  I know you've been watching, and you see the tears.  It has been a hard few days, but only because we love and miss you so very much.  To the moon and back.  With bunches of love -

Momma

Peanut Christmas Spirit

Peanut -

Waking up on Christmas morning without you ranks in the "Top 5 Hardest Things Momma Has Had To Do This Year."  This day is sad, empty, hollow without you.  Yet, I feel The Bean kicking and pushing, anxious to greet the world, and I feel a sense of hope.  I never imagined a Christmas without you, but I know you are here with us in spirit.

Before having you, Christmas was a day to open gifts, eat with family, and celebrate.  After you were born, Christmas became 100% about making sure you had a wonderful, fun day.  And now...well, I don't know what to do with myself this year.  Besides, simply getting through the day.

(Spoiler Alert for Family)
Dadda and I decided to take the focus away from presents this year, and to instead focus on honoring your wonderful spirit for the holiday.  Along with your beautiful Peanut Tree, we created a 10-minute movie all about YOU and your 500 amazing days on this earth.  This movie has been our project all week...it has been joyful, painful, inspirational and difficult to create.  I'm not sure I'll ever be able to watch it without crying, but I also know it is something I will be proud to share with The Bean.  Each member of our family is receiving a copy of the movie - and I have shared it in today's post.

In addition, we are donating the money we would have spent on gifts to SUDC, in your memory, in the names of each of our family members.  It just feels...right.  This year, the Peanut Christmas Spirit is all about honoring you and all the people and organizations who have helped us survive and remember how to live.

Peanut, there is nothing I can say today that isn't going to feel devastatingly sad.  I miss you.  Desperately.  I love you more than words can express.  To the moon and back!

- Momma

The Movie of Your Life

Peanut -

Momma has spent the last two evenings going through every single photo and video we have of you.  It has been emotionally draining.  Heart-wrenching.  Cathartic.  Painful.  Joyful.

I have re-lived every moment of every day we spent with you.  The smells, the sounds, the softness of your blonde hair, the tight grip of your little monkey toes...it has all come rushing back with an overwhelming rush.  A reassuring rush.  I've been so afraid that I was beginning to forget the little things, the details.

It seems my brain, on a daily basis, only doles out what it thinks I can handle.  But, when I go into full-immersion mode - like I did this week - the floodgates open.  I welcomed this flood.  I intentionally opened those gates.  And the emotional drain has had a surprising end result...I actually feel re-energized. Refueled by the love and memories.  By how close you still are in my mind, and in every one of my senses.

I know I feel better when I get to talk about you, so it only makes sense that this photo overload has been healing.  So, while I probably look a little crazy with my mascara-tear-streaked face, I actually feel a sense of calm.  Peace.  Love.

Peanut, I send all that love and peace your way tonight, along with a big air kiss - MWAAAHHHH!  I love you...to the moon and back!

- Momma