California 2008

20 Things Parents of Angels wish you would remember...

20 Things Parents of Angels Wish You Would Remember...
1. I wish you would not be afraid to mention my baby. The truth is just because you never saw my baby doesn't mean he doesn't deserve your recognition.

2. I wish that if we did talk about my baby and I cried you didn't think it was because you have hurt me by mentioning my baby. The truth is I need to cry and talk about my baby with you. Crying and emotional outbursts help me heal.

3. I wish that you could talk about my baby more than once. The truth is if you do, it reassures me that you haven't forgotten him and that you do care and understand.

4. I wish you wouldn't think that I don't want to talk about my baby. The truth is I love my baby and need to talk about him.

5. I wish you could tell me you are sorry my baby has died and that you are thinking of me. The truth is that it tells me you care.

6. I wish you wouldn't think what has happened is one big bad memory for me. The truth is the memory of my baby, the love I feel for my baby, the dreams I had and the memories I have created for my baby are all loving memories. Yes there are bad memories too but please understand that it's not all like that.

7. I wish you wouldn't pretend that my baby never existed. The truth is we both know I had a baby growing inside me.

8. I wish you wouldn't judge me because I am not acting the way you think I should be. The truth is grief is a very personal thing and we are all different people who deal with things differently.

9. I wish you wouldn't think if I have a good day I'm "over it" or if I have a bad day I am being unreasonable because you think I should be over it. The truth is there is no "normal" way for me to act.

10. I wish you wouldn't stay away from me. The truth is loosing my baby doesn't mean I'm contagious. By staying away you make me feel isolated, confused and like it is my fault.

11. I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be "over and done with" in a few weeks, months, or years for that matter. The truth is it may get easier with time but I will never be "over" this.

12. I wish you wouldn't think that my baby wasn't really a baby and it was blood and tissue or a fetus. The truth is my baby was a human life. He had a soul, heart, body, legs, arms and a face. I have seen my baby's body and face. My baby was a real person.

13. My babies due date, Mothers Day, celebration times, the day my baby died and the day I lost my baby are all important and sad days for me. The truth is I wish you could tell me by words or by letter you are thinking of me on these days.

14. I wish you understood that losing my baby has changed me. The truth is I am not the same person I was before and will never be that person again. If you keep waiting for me to get back to ""normal" you will stay frustrated. I am a new person with new thoughts, dreams, beliefs, and values. Please try to get to know the real me-maybe you'll still like me.

15. I wish you wouldn't tell me I could have another baby. The truth is I want the baby I lost and no other baby can replace Sterling. Babies aren't interchangeable. Besides, you may not know that we have fertility problems too.

16. I wish you wouldn't feel awkward or uncomfortable talking about my baby or being near me. When you do, I can see it. The truth is it's not fair to make me feel uncomfortable just because you are.

17. I wish you wouldn't think that you'll keep away because all my friends and family will be there for me. The truth is, everyone thinks the same thing and I am often left with no one.

18. I wish you would understand that being around pregnant women is uncomfortable for me. The truth is I feel jealous.

19. I wish you wouldn't say that it's natures way of telling me something was wrong with my baby. The truth is my baby was perfect to me no matter what you think nature is saying.

20. I wish you would understand what you are really saying when you say "next time things will be okay". The truth is how do you know? Did you forget that we cannot get pregnant? What will you say if it happens to me again?

The Grief Pit Poem

The Grief Pit

The day my child died, I fell into the pit of grief. My friends watched me struggle through daily life; waiting for the person I once was to arise from the pit, not realizing "he" is gone forever. The pit is full of darkness, heartache and despair; it paralyzes your thoughts, movements and ability to ration. The pit leaves you forever changed, unable to surface the person you once were.
Some of my pre-grief friends gather around the top of the pit, waiting for the old me to appear before their eyes, not understanding whats taking me so long to emerge. After all, in their eyes, I've been in the pit for quite sometime. Yet in my eyes, it seems as if I fell in only yesterday. Not all of my pre-grief friends are gathered around the top of the pit. Some are helping me with the climb out of the darkness. They climb side by side with me from time to time, but mostly they climb ahead of me, waiting patiently at each plateau. Even with these friends I sometimes wonder if they are also waiting for the pre-grief me to magically appear before their eyes. Then there are the casual acquaintances, you know the ones who say, "Hi, how are you?" when they really don't care or really want to know. These are the people who sigh in relief, that it is my child who died and not theirs. You know ... the "better them, than me" attitude. My post-grief friends are the ones who climb with me, side by side, inch by inch, out of the pit of grief. They have no way of comparing the pit climber to the pre-grief person I once was. You see, they started at the bottom of the pit with me. They are able to reassure me when I need reassurance, rest when I need resting, and encourage me to move forward when I don't have the strength. They have no expectations, no memories and no recollection of how I "should" be. They want me to get better, to smile more often and find joy in life, but they also accepted the person I've become. The "person" who is emerging from the pit.
Author Unknown

Just for Today by Vicky Tushingham

Just For Today Just for today, I will try to live through the next 24 hours and not expect to get over my child's death, but instead learn to live with it just one day at a time.

Just for today, I will remember my child's life, not his death , and bask in the comfort of all those treasured days and moments we shared.

Just for today, I will forgive all the family and friends who didn't help or comfort me the way I needed them to. They truly did not know how.

Just for today, I will smile no matter how much I hurt on the inside, for maybe if I smile a little, my heart will soften and I will begin to heal. Just for today, I will reach out to comfort a relative or friend of my child, for they are hurting too, and perhaps we can comfort each other.

Just for today, I will free myself from my self inflicted burden of guilt, for deep in my heart I know if there was anything I could have done to save my child from death, I would have done it.

Just for today, I will honor my child's memory by doing something with another child because I know that would have made my own child proud.

Just for today, I will offer my hand in friendship to another bereaved parent, for I do know how they feel. Just for today, when my heart feels like breaking, I will stop and remember that grief is the price we pay for loving, and the only reason I hurt is because I had the privilege of loving so much.

Just for today, I will not compare myself with others. I am fortunate to be who I am and to have had my child for as long as I did.

Just for today, I will accept that I did not die when my child died. My life did go on and I am the only one who can make that life worthwhile once more.
`By Vicky Tushingham from Alive Alone

Our first Blog

I should be working on real estate but, I wanted to get my blog set up. I have no idea about blogs so I am so happy that it has turned out this nice. I am still working on my picture slide shows but, once I get that figured out I will be good to go. In case your looking at the time no I do not sleep right now. I am just not tired and I feel like I can't sleep. I hope that Aaron likes the blog when he sees it tomorrow. I hope that everyone likes this way of hearing what is going on in our crazy world. This seems to be easier for me than to tell the same story.....I get anxiety when I forget to tell part of my story especially, if it has to do with Serenity or Sterling. I have been informed that I am hard to follow sometimes. My brain goes faster than my mouth.

We would like to thank everyone for being by our sides, praying with us and helping us to get back to coping with everyday life. I am not there yet, and I am not sure about Aaron but, we are trying. I have come across a lot of great information that I am looking forward to sharing. Please continue to pray and check on us.

Aaron and I are getting away this weekend to attend the workshop at the Glen Eyrie Group for people who have lost their child/children. I hope that we do okay being away from Serenity for two nights. If not, I am sure that we can sneak away to see her.

Serenity is our heart and soul. She is our blessing from God and we truly enjoy her more everyday. I admire so many things about her and I am so proud to be her mommy.

I went to the marker place to get the sketch of the marker and I do not like it. I really need it to be perfect and I am not sure what I want.
But, I did get the river rock that we went to get in Salida from the Arkansas river where Aaron used to fish to have Sterling's footprints put into the rock. This has eased my mind a little bit from the footprint shells that were made at the hospital and caused many nights of nightmares and anxiety. The river rock look beautiful and it is very special to us.

Well, since it is 1:23 I should try to go to bed, I guess??