Light of Love and Hope

Peanut -

Today was a VERY busy day full of Peanut activities.  First, Dadda and I hosted a small "open house" this afternoon for family and friends to come help us decorate your Peanut Tree.  This evening we were scheduled to attend the St. Louis Worldwide Candle Lighting event along with other local families who are remembering and missing their children during this holiday season.  In the midst of this season of commercials, Santa Claus, gluttony, parties, and giving with the expectation of receiving, days like today are so very important to Momma.

Decorating your tree was sad, happy, painful, joyful and impactful.  The ornaments that now hang on your tree are full of love, stories, memories.  As each person hung their ornament, they shared with Momma why they chose that image, that color, that symbol.  I heard funny little remembrances and stories never shared before.  And, I felt so very, very close to you.  The tree is...beautiful.  Heartbreakingly beautiful.

Later, we sped to the location of the St. Louis Candle Lighting service, only to find an empty, lonely parking lot.  We had a whole string of cars with us - family members who wanted to celebrate your memory in a public way this evening.  Dadda finally called the organizer who informed us we had bad information.  Wrong location, no service.  <sigh>  The website was inaccurate.  Of all things to screw up, this is not the ideal audience to mess with Organizer People.  This event was the one and only event Momma has been looking forward to, the only event that felt really important, this whole holiday season.  Dadda and I drove home in silence, with Momma gripping the steering wheel so hard my hands started to cramp up.  When we got home, our own little Peanut Candle Ceremony took place, with our own private emotions.

As I moped around the house, feeling cheated, battered and bruised, Momma happened to glance over at your Peanut Tree.  The lights twinkled and illuminated all your perfect, lovely ornaments.  My heart swelled with love, and it hit me over the head like a ton of bricks.  This is what is truly important.  Time spent remembering you, sharing you, with those we love.  Time spent honoring you with laughter and tears.  Keeping you alive through stories.

So, tonight we light a Peanut Tree in your memory.  We light a candle in your memory.  And, in turn, your memory keeps the light of love and hope alive in our hearts.

Peanut, I miss you.  Plain and simple.  My heart longs for you desperately, and is so thankful for the memories.  To the moon and back, 'Nut.

- Momma

Erasing Your Fingerprints

Peanut -

This evening Momma tackled a task I've been dreading - postponing - for days.  Let me put this in perspective.  In the last week, Dadda and I have revisited all your books, clothes, your room, crib, stuffed animals.  We've touched and smelled everything.  We've had to make decisions around what to put into Permanent Peanut Storage vs. what to potentially re-use with The Bean.  But, there are two items, two categories, I have intentionally ignored.

The first - your diaper bag. It has been frozen in time, still packed with your size 4 diapers, half empty diaper cream, a container of Goldfish and a smashed NutriGrain bar, spoons and extra toys.  And a special, bright green bib that exclaims, "I'm a McCutie!"  The bib still smells like you.

The second - two bins full of the last toys you played with...most of your favorites.  Toys that are still covered with your fingerprints, saliva, and memories and smells of you.  The last remaining traces of the Peanut Who Lived on this earth.  Traces of you that, once cleaned, are erased forever.

Any sense of bravery, of strength, of courage that I've had this week evaporated this afternoon.  With Dadda's support and help we tackled these items.  Time moved in molasses slow motion as we faced these tasks, and touching each item re-opened a fairly fresh wound.  But, we also got to revisit hundreds of moments and memories of you.

Pulling these items out has been dramatically different from packing them away for storage.  When we organized them for storage, there was no joy.  Just the finality of your death and loss.  Just emptiness and sorrow.  Bringing them out of "hiding" has been bittersweet.  We've been forced to face all the lost hopes and dreams...but the memories have brought smiles.  And, there is the hope of The Bean peaking around the corner.

As I cleaned and disinfected all your toys, and as Dadda sorted out the items from your diaper bag, we realized - this is our life.  We will always have to face these immobilizing hurdles.  Learn to move through them.  And soon - very soon - we will also have your little brother here to share the stories, the laughter.  And, we will get to watch him play with many of your toys.  I will tell him tales of how you read your books all by yourself.  And played your Kitty Kat Piano.  And rode around in the back of the bright yellow Tonka Truck.  Through these toys, stories and books your little brother will get to know you.  Love you.  So, maybe in erasing your your fingerprints, in getting these items ready for The Bean, I'm allowing you to live on in a different way.  That's how I choose to think about it, at least.

Peanut, I miss your smell.  Dadda and I couldn't stop smelling your old bib tonight.  It brought so many tears, so many memories.  I feel so very connected to you in this moment.  I close my eyes, breathe you in and feel you.  In this second I send you all the love in my heart, my soul.  To the moon and back.

- Momma

The Nursery

Peanut -

I'll always remember putting the finishing touches on your nursery just six days before you born.  September 6, 2009.  Dadda and I hung the final pictures, got the changing station set-up, made sure your swing and bouncy seat had batteries, and arranged all your books and stuffed animals.  You weren't due until September 25, but Momma had a feeling...you were coming early.  Sure enough, you said "Helloooooo world!" on Saturday, September 12.  It was such a comfort to know we had a special space set-up and ready for you when it was time to come home.

The theme of your room was Beatrix Potter/Peter Rabbit, and the focal point was a beautiful, hand drawn and embroidered Beatrix Potter character quilt designed and sewn by my Aunt Ann.  When I opened the quilt at your baby shower, I burst into tears...it was so special, so amazing.  I pictured hanging it in your room for years, and passing it along to you as your grew older and had your own children.  In the nursery, that quilt hung over your crib, watched over you night after night, and was a source of delight and fascination for you.

Even as we convert and transform your room into something new, special and different for The Bean, there are special items that will remain.  The Beatrix Potter quilt is one of those items.  We are actually keeping one whole corner of the room Beatrix Potter themed, with all your picture frames, stuffed Peter Rabbit toys, a piggy bank, a "First Tooth" jar we will never get to use - and your quilt.

Peanut, you wouldn't recognize the rest of the room.  It is now blue...painted over your Peanut spring green walls.  There is new carpet on the floor.  The crib will no longer reside in the nursery.  It is set-up in Momma and Dadda's room, right next to our bed.  I suspect The Bean will sleep there for at least his first two years.  The rest of the nursery is rearranged, with many new pieces of furniture that never knew my Peanut.  The closet is full of clothes that were never worn by you.  It is so odd to see a closet full of clothes that aren't yours.

But, the theme of the room is something you would know and love.  I actually think it would get a giant laugh and hand-clap out of you.  The Very Hungry Caterpillar!  And, just as she did for you, Aunt Ann is making a very, very special quilt for The Bean.

Peanut, I hope you bless the changes we made to your room.  I'm so sorry we had to change it.  But, I believe you understand.  We will always have spaces that honor you, that are special Peanut Places.  But, we also have to give The Bean some spaces that are new, and feel special for him.

The "new" nursery is beautiful.  But, I will always remember your happy, green nursery with love and a smile.  I will always remember the happy moments playing with you, reading your bedtime stories, changing your diapers, and peek-a-boo in the closet.  I'm sending you love and memories of those wonderful moments...to the moon and back, Peanut.

- Momma

All I Want for Christmas Is...You.

Peanut -

Last year, throughout the holidays, Momma would subject you to her rendition of Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas" - over and over and over again.  This often happened while we were in the car, when I had you as a captive audience.  Peanut, to your credit, you were a very receptive, appreciative audience.  You would smile, laugh, clap your hands and bang you little feet to the beat of the song.

You also knew I was singing that song about YOU!  Sometimes I would sing it to you in the house, and I'd pick you up, swing you around and hold you close to my cheek so you understood you were the only thing I wanted for Christmas.  The gift of a lifetime.

This year, the music has left Momma.  I can't sing it, and really can't even listen to it.  As much as I love the memories, the song now feels so empty.  It has a different, sad meaning.  The same, but different.  Because, you really are all I want for Christmas.  And beyond.

I wish I were shopping for you this year.  I wish I could see you open a gift.  I wish I could see you marveling over all the Christmas lights.  I wish I could take you to see Santa.  I wish I could create a "happy family" holiday card.

Instead, we will decorate a Peanut Tree in your honor this weekend.  Instead of a traditional tree skirt, we are using one of your personalized baby blankets.  A small statue of a sleeping baby angel is now resting under your tree.

Instead, we will light a candle in your honor at 7:00 pm on Sunday, December 11 - part of the 15th Annual Worldwide Candle Lighting Ceremony:

The Compassionate Friends Worldwide Candle Lighting unites family and friends around the globe in lighting candles for one hour to honor and remember children who have died at any age from any cause. As candles are lit at 7 p.m. local time, creating a virtual wave of light, hundreds of thousands of persons commemorate and honor the memory of children in a way that transcends all ethnic, cultural, religious, and political boundaries.


Peanut, as we light your candle that evening, Momma might just sing a little bit to you, for you.  And maybe others will a light a candle in your memory, and in remembrance of other children who have died, at 7:00 pm.

All I want for Christmas...is you.  Loving you and missing you - to the moon and back.

- Momma

A Fortune Cookie is Smarter Than Momma

Peanut -

Earlier this week Momma opened a fortune cookie looking for a witty phrase or, perhaps, some terribly wise statement.  What I got was this: There is nothing lost or wasted in this life.  Huh.  Huh?  Huh...

Momma's brain has been stuck on that little fortune for days.  Nothing lost or wasted?  What about my Peanut and his life that was cut too short?  What about all my love, now transformed into heartache?  What about all your future potential?  What about the intense joy and happiness we discovered after you were born...a bliss that was snatched away in the blink of an eye on January 26, 2011?

Peanut, the majority of Momma's life has been spent 100% focused on one person - Momma.  Education, career, travel.  These were the priorities.  All decisions hinged on what was best for me, and my own future.  Somewhere along the way, I got older and started craving home and family.  Which brought me back to St. Louis and eventually back to Dadda - the first love of Momma's life.  A few years later we got married and decisions became a little more complicated.  Then we decided we desperately wanted to start our own little family.  In December of 2008 we got pregnant, and to our eternal delight actually discovered we were pregnant in January 2009.  Peanut, I was so elated and scared.  Scared I wasn't cut out for motherhood.  Scared of being too old to have a healthy pregnancy.  Scared of just about everything.  And then, you arrived.   You showed up two weeks early, in September 2009, and changed Momma forever.

For the first time in Momma's life, nothing was about her.  You instantly became the center of my life, my love, my heart, my brain.  I immediately understood the meaning of unconditional love.  Fierce, powerful Momma love.  From the moment our eyes met, I knew I would do anything - give anything - for you.  Which is a huge part of what makes the loss of you - of a child - so wrong.  So insane.  Peanut, I would happily have died 10,000 excruciatingly painful deaths to save you.  If only death had knocked on my door that morning.  If only he had thought to stop and ask, I would have given him anything.  Everything.  Everything, but you.

So, how does all this relate to that fortune cookie?  Here's what I finally realized.  Your birth, your presence, your Peanut Effect has led to a Momma who needs a world that is about everything BUT her.  A Momma who needs a world that honors you and makes you proud.  A world where she can give your little brother all her intense Momma love and wisdom, including the wonderful stories of his big brother.  And, in sharing you - through The Bean or through this blog - you will continue to live on and on and on, forever.  Your Peanut Effect will echo across this world for eternity.

So, truly, there is nothing lost or wasted in this life.  Or beyond.  Especially Momma's love for you.  It grows bigger, stronger and more powerful every day.  To the mooooooooon and back...and beyond.

- Momma