Emotional Icebergs

Peanut -

It's been nearly a week since Momma's last letter.  While I talk to you every day, it's been nearly impossible to put words, thoughts, emotions into written form.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again - Year Two is hard.  Confusing.

What most people refer to as "triggers" - sounds, smells, moments that bring raw grief rushing to the surface - I refer to as emotional icebergs.  Why?  Because the trigger itself lasts just a minute or an hour.  Maybe a day.  But looming beneath the surface there is so much more.  And no way to tell how deep it is until it's too late.  Your birthday was an iceberg I saw coming, and I tried my best to steer into it, to anticipate and prepare for it.  And I did.  Yet, here we are almost three weeks later and my heart is still crippled.

And now, a new iceberg.  The Pickle starts daycare next week.  At your school.  In the same building and classroom that you loved so very much.  Once again we will have artwork, classroom parties and daily report cards.  And all the colds, runny noses and fevers that come with the petri dish that is a daycare classroom.

Your brother has only dealt with one very low-grade fever after a round of vaccinations.  But the first time he gets a real fever, and we have to put him down for a nap or bedtime, I'm not sure how I'll stay sane.  Maybe I won't.  I'm sure I won't sleep.

For now, I will do my best to prepare for next week.  To look for the joy in the situation.  To remember how much going to school delighted you.  And know it will be a terrific, fun experience for your little brother.

I love you, my sweet Peanut.  How much?  To the moon - and back!

- Momma

Peanut eating peanut butter toast during a sick day from school.

The More Things Change, The More They Feel The Same

Peanut -

Your little brother is now over 8 months old.  It's hard to believe how quickly time has flown.  How he is no longer a baby, an infant.  How he has transformed into a babbling, crawling, and now walking around furniture, little boy.  How he is resembling you more day by day, doing all the funny toddler things you used to do.  Yet, how he is so much his own stubborn, quirky, sassy self.

Lately the pain of your loss has a new sharpness to it.  My Momma brain has tried to make some sense of how fresh the grief feels...what has brought this on?  Is it the passing of your 3rd birthday?  Is it the transition of the seasons?  Back-to-school time?  The rush of Halloween commercials and catalogs?

Or, is it watching The Pickle?  Reliving those last 8 months we had with you as you figured out this great, big world?  Pickle is trying to put words together, and lately has started saying, "Mamamama."  That sound fills my heart with tremendous joy, but also unspeakable sadness.  I hear you when those syllables tumble out of his mouth.

He has also developed an electric enthusiasm for mealtime, complete with squeals, grunts, claps and foot kicks.  So much like you, his big brother.  We started calling you Baby Bird after watching you tilt your face up, mouth wide open eagerly awaiting food.

Peanut, Momma has already jumped waaaaaay ahead of herself and time.  But, what happens when The Pickle grows older than you?  When he is no longer tracking against your milestones?  When we are suddenly blazing a new trail?  Will it feel worse?  Will the guilt be overwhelming?  Or, will there be a certain sense of peace, relief, when that day comes?

I honestly don't know what to expect.  Or, how to feel.

I do know it still feels like we're living on borrowed time with The Pickle.  There is still an expectation that, like you, he will pass away in his sleep, unexpectedly, without reason.

But, we live each day with love and hope.  With a deep, newfound appreciation for every smile, every hug, every "Mamamamama," every tumble, every tear, every giggle, every sunset and every sunrise.  Peanut, Dadda and I truly lived with joy and love every day with you, but we always assumed we would have another day.  Another year.  A lifetime, with you.  Now, we wait to see you again in heaven. And, we live, love and laugh in the moment with your brother.

Hey Peanut.  Guess how much I love you.

That's right!

To the moon - and back!

- Momma

Peanut at 9 months.

Pickle at 8 months.

The Peanut Effect Lives On

Peanut -

Something happened today that was somewhat magical.  It was that little ray of light, that reminder of all the love you brought to this world, confirmation that your impact and presence live on in ways Momma cannot even begin to imagine.

You see, Momma writes these letters to you never truly thinking about who else might be reading.  The hope is always that another family, another Momma, another bereaved parent or spouse or sibling or best friend might find a little piece of help, hope, wisdom, or peace from what I write to you.

Over the last 18 months friends, family and readers have reached out to share their own memories, stories and emotions sparked by something written on these pages.  But, as time has passed, those touch-points have become fewer and fewer.  Momma can still see the number of readers on a daily basis, but communication is fairly one-sided.

Until today.  Today Momma learned during a meeting at work how your story, these letters, and your Peanut Effect continue to impact people on a daily basis.  People who have lost everything.  A spouse.  A child.  Maybe both.  And in their fog of despair and sorrow were able to find a sliver of solace.  To find one Momma who walked through the fire and made the decision to survive...and eventually, live.  To honor her Peanut.  To honor you.

Peanut, you continue to touch the world with your love, brilliant smile, tight hugs and goofy, yet magical, laugh.  Sending you loads and loads and bunches of noodles of Momma love - to the moon and back!

- Momma

One of the last photos I took of Peanut, on January 20, 2011.  Full of joy eating chicken, rice and veggies!

Happy Birthday To You...

Peanut -

Today you should be turning 3 years old.  Three candles on your birthday cake.  A cake we should be sharing with family and your friends from school.  "Happy Third Birthday!" is what the party invitation should have announced.  The party we should have planned and spent the last week preparing for, with decorations, streamers, balloons.  And the toys and gifts...they should all be appropriate for ages 3 & Up.  Should, should, should.  Instead, last night I sat on the floor of your room, cradling your urn with tears streaming down my face, as I sang "Happy Birthday" to you.

It's so hard to imagine.  Momma has a mental picture of you at this age, laughing and running through our side yard with birthday balloons trailing behind you, your blonde hair brilliant in the afternoon sun.  But...the snapshot is fuzzy.  A little imperfect.  The 3 year old you looks a lot like the 16 month old you.  The version of you that I know.  That I held and hugged and sang with and told bedtime stories to - not some weird age-projected version of you.

It is the image of you that is imprinted on my heart.  It is the fingerprint of you on my soul.

I celebrate you, Peanut.  I celebrate your life.  I celebrate the day of your birth.  I remember that day with joy.  With smiles.  It is a day that forever transformed Momma for the better.  I still love remembering and retelling the "play by play" from the day you were born: Peanut's 2nd Birthday.

Peanut, I hope - I believe - on this birthday you are celebrating and enjoying loads of ice cream cake, funny balloon animals, bright red Elmo party hats, and games of tag with all your angel friends.  Because, that is what I think you would be doing - what you should be doing - if you were still with us on earth.  But, try to check in with us because Momma, Dadda and The Pickle will be celebrating your birthday in our own special way.  It sure would be fantastic to have a visit from you.

With love, heartbreak, joy, sorrow, hope and remembrance I wish you, my very special, beautiful, amazing little boy, a very happy birthday.  Sending you butterfly kisses and love, to the moon - and back.

- Momma

Elmo Phone

Peanut -

I heard Elmo say your name today.  For the first time in over a year I heard, "Elmo here...who's calling please?  Oh, it's you...Connor!  Hahahahahaha!!!!  Elmo is so happy to hear from you."  Oh.  Ouch.  Play it again.  And again.  And again.

You see, this is linked to the little Elmo "cell" phone Aunt Dru gave you for your 1st birthday.  A birthday that is creeping up in...3 days.  We programmed the phone with YOUR name so Elmo would say Connor-specific messages.  And you loved, loved, loved it.  As I stare at the little phone now - for the first time since we packed it away - I see spots already worn away by your hands, your teeth, your fingers pressing certain, special buttons time after time after time.

Momma and Dadda brought a bunch of your toys out this weekend.  Toys meant for a spunky 1-2 year-old boy.  Toys that have sat dormant, waiting.  While the rest have been touched by the joy of your brother, this is one toy The Pickle will not play with or change.  This toy is now with Momma, next to her pillow.

Peanut, I can't believe your birthday is right around the corner.  I want to believe you are still here.  I want to believe we are planning a party for you with cake and hats and banners and gifts.  But.  We aren't.

What we are doing is celebrating the life you blessed us with on this earth.  Trying not to dwell too much on what we lost.  What we will never know.  The boy you should have been.  The life you deserved to live.

Instead, we will honor your joyful smile, brilliant blue eyes, musical laugh.  I still see and feel you in my heart, in my soul.

I miss you so much.  I love you.  To the moon - and back!

- Momma