Your Due Date (and a declaration)

Peanut -

Today - September 25 - was your original due date.  You, my feisty 'Nut, obviously decided to move the clock up given your actual birth date of 9-12-09.  But today is still a pretty significant date for Momma, if for no one else.

Peanut, while everyone else seems to have "moved on" Momma is struggling.  Night-time is still petrifying...do I try to sleep, or stay awake all night?  I'm doing the bulk of this all on my on own since Dadda can't be home in the evenings due to the restaurant schedule.  

The result?  These questions that Momma poses to herself every night: 

Do I stay up with The Pickle, listening to him on the monitor and checking in every hour?  

Or, do I allow myself to rest, hoping there's a Guardian Angel watching over him? 

I don't know the right answer.  Most nights the answer is a combination of the two.

What I do know is this -

I'm exhausted.  I'm bone tired.  

And I've hit the point that I can't take care of anyone else until I take care of me.  I'm not sure what that means but I do know know I'm done with being "The Rock" for everyone else.

Peanut, this comes on the heels of me seeing the "old Momma" at work today.  I just won't stand for it. Your death taught me too much about life, love and priorities.  I live to honor you.

It is time to re-prioritize.

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

- Momma

"I Love You"

Peanut -

Tonight Momma heard a phrase she's been aching to hear for years.   A phrase she thought she would hear from you...a phrase she thought she would never hear after you left this world.

While you had mastered a few words and phrases, you never got to a point that you could say "I love you."  The same was true for The Pickle until tonight.  He has hundreds of words and expressions but Momma hasn't expected anything life-changing.  We've been hearing a lot of "truck" and "puppy" and "airplane" but what I got tonight knocked my Momma socks off.

In the midst of a toddler meltdown (complete with crocodile tears) Momma got an unexpected neck hug.  Pickle brought our faces together, side-by-side, cheek-to-cheek, and declared, "I love you!"

I melted.

So wonderful.  So tragic.  So.....much.  How do I express it?

Peanut, I believe you are working your magic through your brother.  That you are present in these amazing moments.

But still...I miss you so very much.  My heart aches for you.  My arms and neck long for your Peanut hugs.

I wish the world had gotten the chance to hear you declare "I love you!"

Regardless, you know I love you...to the moon - and back!

- Momma

Four.

Happy 4th Birthday Peanut -

Momma woke up this morning and spent some time snuggled up in bed simply remembering this day in 2009.  A day that began just like any other, and ended with a tiny, beautiful, perfect little gift nick-named Peanut, thanks to one of the delivery nurses, who changed my life and the world forever.  Momma outlined the details of the day in a post on your 2nd birthday, back in 2011: Happy 2nd Birthday.

Peanut, I will never forget the unbridled joy that filled my heart the moment I glimpsed your head with its dark blonde fuzz, your grasping hands, and hungry mouth.  The electric love that shot through my heart the first time we locked eyes...I felt you gaze into and capture my soul.  A connection that has never faded, regardless of the fact that I can't physically hold, touch, hug or kiss you.

I wonder what kind of birthday party we would have hosted for you this year?  Dinosaur themed?  Football or soccer?  Jake and the Neverland Pirates? Or rockets and trains?  Would you and your friends be climbing trees and wrestling in the yard?  Would you still have your voracious appetite and love for all foods, tastes and spices?  Your love of music and dancing which never failed to evoke your brilliant smile and belly laugh?

Yesterday, as Momma prepared her heart for this milestone, I came across an e-mail exchange with Dadda from January 20, 2011.  Just days before you left for heaven.  It was a funny conversation, with Momma explaining your school had called to let me know you hurt your lip while playing piano.  What?  Hurt your lip playing piano?!?  Dadda and I both immediately had a picture of you shucking, jiving, bouncing and grooving while playing the instrument.  It cracked us both up and we agreed we couldn't wait to see the injury that evening.

That incident and the laughter it provoked was long forgotten in Momma's memory bank.  What a gift to retrieve it, to remember the joy you brought our family through the tiniest, silliest actions.  And to see the connection between you and your little brother.

Today I remember you with laughter and dance.  I honor you through smile-filled tears.  And, I hold you close in my heart.  Dadda and Momma celebrate your birthday because this day in 2009 marks the moment when we realized life will never be the same.  Never could we have known what that meant four years ago.  But through the best and worst moments, through the grief and joy, we have been guided by the love and hope you brought to our world.  Tonight we will release four Japanese lanterns and watch them soar towards the heavens, to our Peanut.

Happy birthday, my loving, introspective, cautious, funny, intellectual, musical little Peanut.  Oh, how I wish you were here.  I hope you are having a party in heaven, filled with balloons, ice cream, salsa and chips, Backyardigans, music from The Zac Brown Band, and stories from Eric Carle and Dr. Seuss.  Momma will contribute by reading you to sleep with "Guess How Much I Love You."  But, you already know the answer to that question.  To the moon - and back!

One gaze says it all - love.

September Blues

Peanut -

It is September.  Your month.  The month that welcomed you into the world, full of so much promise, hope and joy back in 2009.  This month ushers in a new season - Fall - and with it all the delightful memories we have of falling leaves, cooler weather, Halloween, shorter days, Thanksgiving, and visits to Santa that we shared with you for two Fall seasons.

You will never get to enjoy these events again.

But...we are still here.

Your brother has brought us a new sense of purpose and happiness that allows Momma to look forward to the holidays and transitions, but still...a dark cloak of melancholy has settled over Momma since returning from Big Cedar.  My joy is found during moments with The Pickle.  And I wonder...will this pass?

Momma can't stop thinking about the days leading up to your early birth.  I knew you were coming early.  I could feel it.  The anticipation, the wonder and anxiety was overwhelming.  Never was there a sense of concern or fear like I've had to face with your little brother.  

And we never were given a reason to worry until the day you didn't wake up.  You were always so wise, calm and strong.  You were Momma's little soulmate and love bug who didn't fuss, belly-laughed without hesitation, and happily doled out super-tight neck hugs.  And so very, very smart.  

Peanut, you should still be here.  Why you were taken so early - too early - is such a mystery.  I miss you every moment of every day.  But today that emotion is very, very heavy on Momma's shoulders.  So much so that I fear it will weigh me down.  

I know this will be "September" for the rest of my years on earth.  Does that knowledge help?  Hmmmmm...I don't know.  Maybe I can prepare for it.  Try to ignore it.  Compartmentalize it.  Or, maybe I should just ride this wave as another step in the grieving process.  For now, I choose to do the latter.  

Missing you.  Loving you.  To the moon - and back!

- Momma

August 31, 2009 - Momma is a giant 9 months pregnant with Peanut, and 12 short days away from delivery.

The Gift of Your Smiles

Peanut -

We are in the middle of our annual Big Cedar trip, and feeling your presence in the most joyful way on a daily basis.  Everywhere we look we are touched by wonderful memories of you, and are also creating new ones with your little brother.  Momma is surprised by the happiness, not guilt, that has filled her heart during these days.

On Sunday Momma, Dadda and The Pickle were enjoying brunch on the patio, with your little brother greeting everyone with a giant, "Hiii-looooo!" and wave as they walked by, no matter if it was their first or tenth time passing our table.  This evoked lots of smiles and laughs from the other patrons and the kind restaurant staff.  Eventually one waitress approached our table, with a huge grin, and shared a story from her bible study about a little boy who was sent to earth to bring smiles to everyone he touched.  She told us she was pretty sure that little boy was your brother, and she hoped we realized what a blessing he was with his sunshine presence.  Dadda and I simply looked at each other and nodded with our own knowing grins.  She has no idea...

Yesterday we were walking through the woods after a morning boat ride with Grandma and Grandpa (now known as NaNa and PawPaw) when a large, beautiful butterfly joined us on the path.  Dadda and I both exclaimed, "Hi Peanut!" and your brother giggled and tried his best to say, "Brother!" The butterfly circled us several times, and attempted to land on The Pickle's hands.  In the shady quiet of the wooded path we felt your love, your joy.  The warmth of your smile.  I realized, while we look like a small family of three to outside observers, we are truly a family of four - a Momma, Dadda and their two little boys - enjoying this end of summer trip.

Meanwhile, back in St. Louis a political drama is playing out surrounding County Executive Charlie Dooley.  You remember Charlie.  The guy whose office we flooded with letters after Dr. Mary Case from his Coroner's office refused to acknowledge SUDC.  The guy who was so troubled by our letter campaign that he devoted not one, but two weekly staff meetings to a conversation around what to do about this "Connor Mulholland situation."  The guy who had secret e-mail conversations (shared with Momma by one of his concerned senior staff members) with Dr. Case discussing why she chose to assign Bronchitis as the cause of death on your Death Certificate, even though no one in her office could actually find a cause - but that "Unknown" wasn't acceptable under her watch even though they have between 1 and 3 of these situations on an annual basis.  The guy who refused to talk directly with Momma, who dodged her calls, e-mails and letters.  Yeah, THAT guy.

As Charlie's political career goes down in flames while we prepare to celebrate your 4th birthday, I can't help but feel satisfied.  There is a sense of peace, that the scales of good/bad, right/wrong, grief/joy, are balancing themselves.  While I know nothing will ever bring you back, the injustice of your death can never be erased, and the hole in my heart will never be filled until I meet you again, Momma does feel hopeful.  Hopeful that a new administration will step in and we can once again campaign to have SUDC added to the St. Louis County Coroner's list of causes of death.  A small change that could have such sweeping implications - for more awareness with the CDC, for more state and national funding for research, for someday finding the root cause of SUDC so no other family has to suffer this horrible, meaningless loss.  So no other family has to face that moment when a day - just a regular day - changes the course of their world forever.  When they are joyfully walking in to wake their snoozing son or daughter only to find a lifeless body, the spirit gone from their eyes, stolen in the peace of slumber. And in the wake of that moment, to be told there is no reason, there are no answers, there is nothing anyone could have done to predict or prevent that moment.  Momma has hope...no, confidence, that we can make that change.

The little story shared by the waitress on Sunday got Momma thinking - my two boys have both been, and still are, such beacons of light, happiness, sunshine.  How did one Momma get so lucky?  Both of your smiles fill people with happiness and laughter.  Oh, how I wish I could see the two of you playing together.  But, in the absence of that I can look at photos of the two of you, side-by-side and marvel over my amazing sons.

Peanut, thank you for keeping the joy and hope alive in Momma's heart.  Thank you for showing your presence.  I love you, my sweet, happy, amazing son.  How much?  To the moon - and back!

Peanut, at 15 months old.  So full of himself after a successful visit to Santa.

A rare blog-glimpse of The Pickle - taken during vacation this week.  He is 19 months old.