Sticks and stones...

'Sticks and stones, may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.'

Oh how I wish that this childhood jingle could ring true all the time. But unfortunately, that wasn't the case, this time. Definitely easier said then done. For sure.

While on a Return to Zero the movie forum on Facebook this afternoon a conversation came up. It was a quote from the movie. It was the scene where Maggie & her mom were having a conversation and her mom told her she had had a "miscarriage" before she had gotten pregnant with Maggie. Maggie is shocked that she hadn't heard of her moms loss until now.

Here is the dialogue from that scene:

This was a very profound scene in this movie. It validated so many babies by just stating..."It's still a loss...And it still hurts. It's not just the loss of a baby, it's a loss of a possibility of what might have been-and that is exactly the same."

I have felt this way since back in 2004 when I lost our 1st baby. But as the comments poured in, it was obvious that mothers to Still born babies didn't feel the same way. Some spouted off really mean and hurtful comments. I was so furious that they were belittling MY son. Devaluing his existence because he was born before some "cut-off" date that was placed by some random, rule-maker-person, that believes that babies aren't babies until a certain gestational age.

Justify it however you need to in order to sleep better at night people.

What a load of crap.

So I couldn't take it any more. I broke down and truly had to let these ignorant people know how it is from my point of view. So, I copied my post titled VALUE in their comment section. I felt so much better afterwards. It's so profound and rewarding to see so many people LIKE my comment. It was validation, that I think deep down inside, I truly needed. I am NOT alone and obviously, there are others that feel the same way that I do.

One particular comment afterwards stood out to me and has forever changed my terminology. She was trying to make a point because her baby died 3 days before the "cut-off" date to be considered a Stillborn baby. Instead, her baby was called a "miscarriage." She said she started calling her babies death...an Early Stillborn. I love that.

Saying, Early Stillborn, at least acknowledges that there was in fact a real baby there. Her son, just like MY son...they each had 10 tiny toes. 10 tiny fingers. Ears. Nose. Mouth. Eyes. Etc. They were human beings.

I had to be induced. I had to deliver his body. I had my milk come in as well. I don't understand how others can sit an compare their losses with mine and say such horrible things.

So I will never call Harbor's death a miscarriage or a late term miscarriage...again.

Editing...processing...loading...waiting.............

EARLY STILLBORN.

That is what I will be calling our loss, from now on.

Harbor was Still. Harbor was born. He was a Stillborn baby. HE WAS STILL...BORN.

Jealousy.

The emotion of jealousy comes into play a lot more then I would have ever realized after a loss of a baby.

My emotions have increased and my awareness has heightened. Little things that never would have bothered me....do now.

I am focused....well, maybe just more aware of others and the things they say & do. Wether it is geared towards me or not. I know sometimes I take it personal.

Like this last week, my cousin announced that she was excited because she was having her baby shower. Normally I would be over the moon thrilled for her and any one else I know in this situation. I mean who doesn't LOVE a baby shower? Everyone does! That is....until you have experienced a loss of a baby. My cousin and I were due 1 week apart and it's another reminder that life is moving on....with or without Harbor in it. It makes me so jealous because Harbor was very much wanted.

Another friend of mine is due a week later then Harbor's due date and she has been posting pictures of her ever growing belly. I find myself more depressed and resentful towards her and everyone else I know that is expecting. I don't mean to be. I don't want to be. I just can't seem to help it.

The other night, while at an Ice cream parlor, I went to check my family in and a pregnant lady walked in, in front of me. I wish so bad to have changed places with this woman. I wanted and should have had a belly, big and round. Feeling Harbor wiggling and kicking me.

While out with my husband Saturday Morning, I had a melt down.

I am sad, depressed, jealous and overwhelmed beyond belief. So many friends and family members getting ready to have their baby showers & babies now. Just more hurtful reminders that life is and will continue too move on without Harbor. And there's nothing I can do to change or fix the outcome. It just sucks!

Picking up the pieces.

"It's so hard to see our kids so upset. I just wish I could fix it. But there isn't anything I can do or say to fix it. And that kills me inside." ~me

My friend DVRed Return to Zero the Movie for me. It aired on Lifetime a week ago! So tonight I decided that I was going to go over to her house to watch it. I took along with me: my husband and ALL 4 of our children. I knew there would be scenes where I felt my kids needed to cover their eyes and because I had seen the movie back in March, I could tell them when to do so. 'A' fell asleep quickly once the movie started. Thank goodness. Destruction free. Everyone else's eyes were affixed upon the TV screen.

I had explained to my kids right before we started the movie that this wasn't a happy, ha-ha kind of movie. This was a true story based on a family, who's baby died. Just like ours and that this movie might be difficult to watch. Nobody protested.

We watched as Maggie (played by Minnie Driver) learned that her son Arthur didn't have a heart beat. Oh how fresh that all too familiar phrase was replaying once again in my mind. My heart racing a thousand times faster then normal. The feeling of shock and disbelief, rushing over your whole body. Consuming you with a deep dark grief, that only those that have lived it, truly can understand.

Everyone else was handling the movie so well. At least that is what it seemed. That was until Maggie actually gave birth to Arthur and she's hugging him and crying. 'T' my 11yr old leaned over onto my arm and mustered out..."I can take it any more. I just can't watch it any more." Uncontrollable sobs poured out his eyes. 2 watery cascades of salty tears just flowing like waterfalls. I hugged him tightly and while doing so, I am telling him how much I love him. I tell him how sorry I am for HIS loss. I am sorry there isn't anything that I can do to fix this. After a few minutes, I was able to convince him that the movie does end happier and to finish out the last 15-20 minutes of the movie.

We finished it and headed home. Once at home, everyone quickly changes for bed and I realize 'T' is on the couch. He is crying once again. We talk. We cry. We hug. We laugh. We hug & we cry some more. And an hour later he is finally in bed.

I truly hate that I can't FIX any of this pain or sorrow. For myself. For my husband. For my kids.

The past few months have been extremely emotional for ME. At times I forget that my children are suffering as well. After all they did loose a BABY BROTHER. He died. He isn't coming back. As much as I am hurting over Harbor being gone, I can only imagine how it must feel to lose a baby brother.

How do families pick up the pieces after a loss? How do they glue back the tiny shards of their life, that are all shattered upon the floor? It seems impossible. Grains of sand so fine you can barely see them with the naked eye. But you know there there. You can feel it.

I pray that peace will come unto my family. A peace so powerful and bold, that we will become like an Anchor in that sand.

Strong & Mighty.

 But like that Anchor,  we will become..........UNMOVABLE!

Tangible.

On our last night of our Support Group therapy, it was suggested that we take up and explore other outlets to convey or capture our emotions on our loss.

I have to say that I have been pleasantly surprised with myself on a few attempts so far.

You see...I don't have much to hold on to, in the sense of tangible items to remind me of Harbor. We as humans, seem to think that possessions, help us remember, honor and capture our memories. I have found this to be true on numerous occasions.

Example: when we moved from Colorado to California we had to pack our whole house. Well, in doing so, touching a certain item, triggered certain memories or thoughts. Mostly of good, pleasant, happy moments! But there were some things that triggered unhappy thoughts or memories, as well.

Much like a Hoarder that I have seen on TV shows. The Hoarder has a deep emotional attachment to different items in their house. Causing them to have serious mental, emotional and physical responses to each time. Making it hard to let go of each item.

For me, loosing Harbor at 16 weeks didn't give me many tangible items to remind me of HIM or my pregnancy. Or items to trigger happy, joyous memories that I have spent with HIM.

My grief right now...IS tangible. It is something that I have been holding onto. As sad as that may sound (even to myself.)

His orange blanket...IS tangible. It is something I have and can snuggle with if I wanted too. That HE touched! But the memories associated with his blanket is tainted. Tainted with death. Tainted with sorrow. Tainted with pain. Just tainted.

His Urn...is tangible. As hard as it is, to sit and hold his tiny heart shaped urn. It is also tainted. Tainted with grief. Tainted with guilt for NOT being present at his cremation. Tainted with regrets of NOT having him cremated IN or ON something. Tainted with loss. Tainted with sadness.

My dear sweet neighbor and friend has taken it upon herself to reach out to me during this difficult trial in my life. She has gone above and beyond what a friend or family member would do. She has: written cards, made me a Mother's Necklace with Harbor's a birth date on it, she has driven with me 3 hrs each direction just to see Return To Zero the movie with me. This same friend recently bought and named a Star in honor of Harbor! She has helped me make Harbor's Little Wooden Box a reality.

I love that she has helped me to have positive, happy, joyful tangible items to remind me of my son.

Even with all that my dear sweet friend has done for me to honor him, I still feel so detached from him. So I started dabbling in some art. I started with a drawing and I am very impressed with myself and how it has turned out! Now, I am by NO means a good artist. Unless you qualify stick figures as an artistic ability. Ha! Ha! Ha!

I have also tried my hands at sculpting. I used Model Magic clay because I have sensory issues with Play-doh and mainly because I home school my 4 older children and Model Magic clay is all that we have in our home. So I sat down and tried to create an Angel boy out of this clay. He is kneeling down, sobbing his heart out with his face buried in his hands. He does have wings on his back as well. It's not perfect in any way. But neither am I.

I am grabbing at and trying out ways to process, in ways I never knew existed. I am trying to create Tangible things that remind me of him. That don't send me back to a dark place in my life. I am trying to soften my blow of reality. I am taking hurtful emotions and trying to make them more comfortable to feel, see, process and understand.

I am grabbing at whatever I can that is...TANGIBLE.

GONE.

I would have been 30 weeks pregnant this week. Instead my reality is...it's been 14 long, painful roller coaster filled, emotional jam packed...weeks since Harbor has been gone.

I can't even begin to explain how it feels. I try to explain it, but I don't even think my words make sense anymore. At least not to me.

Harbor has now been gone, nearly as long as he was alive.

(That is the worst sentence I have written in a long time.)

For me it feels as though he died yesterday. Feelings, emotions, visions just as fresh and raw as the day he stole my heart & drifted off to heaven with it.

I don't even know what to say or write anymore. Other then today was another rough day. Milestones that would have been joyous but that are now filled with more disappointment, more sorrow, more grief.

Oh, how I long to cuddle him, look at him and kiss him again. To be granted that dreadfully hard day again, would be much better then the days, weeks and months I have faced since HE has been gone.

Tears fill my eyes as I think about all that seems lost. My hopes, my dreams, my future...all filled with happiness...gone. 14 weeks ago everything seemed alright...now, it's all just gone.

This evening while I was cooking dinner, spaghetti to be exact. My mom asked if there was anything she could do to help. I said we need spaghetti sauce. She brought out the huge jar of Prego sauce that we had used in our Pregnancy Announcement pictures. I debated on telling her the value of this particular jar of sauce and what it meant to me. But who am I kidding? It's spaghetti sauce for crying out loud.

(This was how I told my husband that we were expecting Harbor!)

But I seriously have been holding back the tears since. Who knew something as insignificant as spaghetti sauce could have such a huge impact on me. But it was THE JAR, the one we held in our hands. To announce to the world we were excited and happy to be expecting another child. My mom didn't know or realize, so I'm not upset with her. I'm just sad that that memento is no longer going to be in our pantry. That reminder of Harbor, alive in my tummy,  is gone forever.

Value.

I feel so alone at times on this perpetual grief cycle.

(This is a Grief Wheel)

How hard is it for other people...grieving parents of miscarried babies, late term miscarried babies, Stillborn babies, infant loss babies, aborted babies, etc...to accept that a loss is a loss, no matter how "old" the baby is.

I read a comment today that was written by a mother that lost her baby during her 36th week of pregnancy. She made a comment about how people like me whom have lost a baby before 20 weeks, shouldn't be categorized with grieving parents of a "Stillborn" baby (a baby that dies after the 20th week.) Basically saying that I don't  have the same rights, to mourn as she does.

So I have taken this comment so personal, it astounds me. Why should I mourn the loss of Harbor any LESS then her? Oh because she had more time with her developing baby. Because my heart couldn't possibly have bonded with him as much as she did with her baby.

Harbor had just as much potential as any other child or baby that has died. Why should his death be any different then her babies? Because of a few weeks?

I have many friends whom have "miscarried" multiple babies & yes, everyone mourns differently. I understand that. Everyone's situation is similar, but each story is personally tailored to our own journey through this challenging event. I don't find it appropriate for any one to devalue MY personal feelings on MY loss. We aren't out to one up the other grieving parent. Like it's some sort of competition, as if to say "my son lived longer then your son, so he meant more. Was wanted more. Had more hopes and dreams wanted for them." Seriously?

We should be: kind, loving, caring, compassionate shoulders to cry upon and uplift each other through our darkest hours/days.

Harbor's life was cut short. But he has made such an impacted in so many peoples lives. Especially mine! I will NOT let anyone belittle his life.

"A persons a person, no matter how small." ~Dr. Seuss

Addiction.

Is there such a thing as being addicted to reading other peoples stories of their losses? I would much rather sit and read 20 other peoples stories then sit and watch a movie. I have no desire to focus my attention any where else right now. If this is part of the grieving process, then yay me! If not, I may need help.

I feel that by me reading their stories I am some how validating that their child existed. That they mattered and in return, someday, someone will read through Harbor's story and in doing so, validate HIM as well!

I especially love it when their families have added a photo of their sweet little baby! I pray that at some point I will openly share Harbor's photos. But for now, it is very hard for me to share his photos with family members, let alone the thought of sharing him with the world, through pictures. I suppose my biggest hold up is...fear of people making rude comments or making fun of him. Judging him.

Shortly after Harbor died I came across a blog with a baby about the same gestation as Harbor. This babies family shared photos, sweet, loving photos. Sad, real and devastating personal photos. I read a few comments on that blog and it made me cringe that people can be so mean and hurtful towards this tiny baby's pictures. It made me sick to think that someone might be that mean and rude if I shared Harbor. So for now, he will remain faceless to most of the world.

I especially like reading the blog posts on www.returntozerothemovie.com because it has multiple stories of so many babies that have left this world all too soon. I love that other families are reaching out and trying to break the silence of Miscarriage, Stillborn and infant loss. It is a very difficult decision to speak out and share such personal, heartache and despair with strangers and the world.

Regrets.

I DO have regrets about Harbor's Death.

Regret #1: Complaining about his possible gender.

You see, I have 3 living BOYS and 1 living GIRL. I half jokingly kept telling everyone that if "this" baby (Harbor) was another boy, I got 2 weeks to cry and complain about it and then I had to move on and get over the fact that it was boy #4 for us. I truly regret that statement above and it is probably 1 of my biggest regrets. I hate that I felt so strongly against having "Another" boy. Now I would do just about anything to bring my son back. To just hear him cry, look at me or even just kick me from in utero.

Regret #2: Not having any form of clothing or blanket for him to be cremated in.

There is something comforting to know that when someone dies, that they have clothing on. Not just ANY clothing, but maybe their favorite clothes or some sort of clothing that is special. I could have even settled on a blanket that was hand made with so much love, just for him. But Harbor had NOTHING. It bothers me so much some days. I have made special blankets and clothing for all 4 of my other children. But I didn't have enough time on my hands. And it certainly wasn't the 1st thing that came to mind when we were informed he no longer had a heart beat. Below is a link to an article that makes me so happy! There are people that care and it is amazing! I just wish that Harbor could have had something like this when we died.

http://t.today.com/moms/somebody-cares-donated-wedding-dresses-become-angel-gowns-babies-who-2D79476642

Or you can visit their personal webpage here: http://www.nicuhelpinghands.org/angel-gowns/

Regret #3: Choosing to NOT allow our older children the choice to come see Harbor in person.

The ONLY complaint my 8 yr old daughter had, was NOT being able to hold her baby brother. I think my heart broke into a gazillion pieces more, after hearing her sobbing about it. My husband and I felt at the time we were making the right decision on behalf of our children. We didn't know what the state of Harbor's remains would be in by the time he was born. We didn't even know if an induction was even going to work. We were impending a dreaded doom of a possible D&E (dilate and extract, an abortion process which is inhumane in my personal books and if that were to happen, we wouldn't have been allowed to see him.) We were scared beyond belief and totally unprepared for any of the events we were to go through. So the thought at the time was...it was too hard for US, so it would be even harder for our children. But I think I underestimated my children's need for closure, when Harbor died. I am so sorry kids, that daddy and I had to make such a difficult decision. We love you and wish that things could have played out differently.

Disappointments.

"Your strength is in maintaining who you are!" Talking about NOT loosing yourself in self pity, during times of disappointment in your life. (These were the words spoken by a pastor yesterday on Mothers Day.)

This sermon really got me thinking about how I have been self absorbed and rightfully so. But to what extent? Do I or should I continue on in this life being angry, bitter, depressed, jealous and spiteful? As much as I love and will always love Harbor...when will I start living again...for him?

How embarrassing or ashamed would I feel if, when I die, Harbor asks me "Mommy, how come you stopped living when I died?"

I honestly wouldn't even know where to begin, to answer that question.

So yesterday at my Sister-in-laws church, the pastor spoke mainly on being a mother that has been disappointed...with something in your life. He went on to list a few examples:

You're disappointed that...your children didn't turn out the way you had planned...you don't own the nicest, newest house, car, clothes, whatever...you haven't been able to have children...your child or children have died...his list went on.

 But I got choked up feeling that he was all of a sudden speaking directly to my aching sole. He told of a story about Ruth in the bible. How she had a family and all of them died. So she changed her name and she changed her identity. I don't know much on the story of Ruth. (I openly admit that I am NO bible thumper and I have a horrible memory unless I can relate and personally connect to those that I am reading about.) So the Pastor goes on about how when Ruth was going through a rough trial she pulled away from The Lord and was bitter. Within doing so, she lost sight of who she was.

But if we decide and whole hearted choose to have a relationship and I mean, a sincere relationship with out Savior...then we will feel complete again.

Christ can renew our broken, childless hearts. Christ gives us HOPE! Christ gives us STRENGTH!

I will say it again..."Your strength is in maintaining who you are!"

So these words have eaten at me all night long. I have allowed Harbor's death to define me.

'Am I just another parent that has had a child die? Am I just a bitter, jealous lunatic? Am I just a horrible mother because I have been absent from fully grasping onto life with my living children?'

I have been allowing Harbor's death to change me and NOT for the better. I would be very ashamed of myself. If Harbor had actually asked me that question. What can I do to change my perspective? I thought.

Tired from the lack of sleep because I was up all night with 'A' who was screaming and crying all night due to leg pain. I chose to NOT complain. I choose to embrace the moment and snuggle him that much more. Happily thanking God for this moment. For allowing me to have 'A' and my 3 other living children!

When the dishes were piling up and laundry as well. I chose to NOT be angry that I was the only person doing it. I choose to be thankful for the opportunities to serve my family by doing these chores. And you know what? My oldest pitched in willingly and happily I might add!

This morning I woke with a new outlook on trying to live my life. I loaded my 4 older kids in the van and surprised them by going to the bowling alley. Unfortunately there were about 75 old people there ready to take over the whole alley for league. So we basically drove a good half hour out of our way just to sit in a bowling alley to eat our lunch for 45 minutes. I could have been really angry and taken my frustration out on the poor guy running the place but instead, I told my kids who were highly disappointed that they didn't get to bowl..."Hey. We got to eat lunch in a bowling alley! We have never JUST eaten lunch in a bowling alley before! That was pretty awesome!" I then made a quick change in our plans and we headed to an indoor trampoline place and had a blast! Grabbed ice cream on our way home and played outside!

Does this mean I have moved on? No. Does this mean I won't ever complain again? Unfortunately not. I am human. Does this mean that I am past grieving my sons death? No. It just means that I am trying to hold on to the main thing in this world that I CAN HAVE CONTROL OVER...MYSELF!

This sermon really made me rethink. Reevaluate.

I know God has a bigger plan then I will ever know in this life. Yes, I am disappointed that MY Perfect plans for this life haven't worked in my favor. It was a nice reminder that I am NOT in control of what happens. I only get to control the way I react and handle the situations that come my way.

I get to...fine joy and peace in MY............DISAPPOINTMENTS!

My thoughts about Mother's Day

This Mother's Day is stirring up a lot more emotions then I had anticipated.

Why? It's not like this is your 1st Mother's Day. After all, it is just another...silly holiday. You must be asking yourself this, right?

Mother's Day holds a heavy spot in my heart. Mother's Day is an extra reminder of just how much I miss Harbor and Jamie.

My husband and I had announced we were expecting Jamie (our 1st Miscarried baby) on Mother's Day. We had actually found out we were expecting just before our 1st Born sons, 1st birthday! We decided that it would be so fun to wait and announce to the whole family that we were expecting again, at our Mother's Day get together. We got a nice jewelry case box and placed our Positive Pregnancy Test inside. Wrapped it up nicely and gave it to my Mother-in-law. We couldn't wait to see her reaction. She opened the box. Looked confused for a few moments, then, bing! The light switch turned on & "Are you serious?" Poured out! We were thrilled. Over the moon, excited! But about a month and half later, I miscarried. So Mother's Day has always been hard for me.

This year, I don't expect anything less. It's a painful, extra reminder, emphasized on being the one thing I cherish the most...A Mother.

If you can't imagine how that would feel...try this...trying imagining the 1 person you wouldn't want to have to live the rest of your life without (a grandparent, your mother, your dad, a friend, a pet, whomever.) Now imagine...that unfortunately you HAVE TO live your life without them in it. So, from now on...1 specific day a year...EVERYONE rubs it in your face that they are no longer alive and their own (grandparent, parent, spouse, friend, pet, whomever) is. Ha! Ha!

Now, I imagine that is as close to how you can personally relate. But a 1000 times worse.

For me it is hard because I DO have living children. I KNOW what I am missing out on: Homemade cards, stamped with cute, chubby little hands & feet print! Misspelled, hand written, heart felt cards! Adorable tissue paper flowers! Glitter covered drawings! I love you's! Coupons promising to "be good for the whole day" or for "one extra hug!" Freshly picked flowers (or weeds) from the yard that were so lovingly hand picked just for me!

Mother's Day is a day to reflect on Thanking your Mom for bringing you into this world. But who thanks a mom on Mother's Day for giving birth to her deceased child? No one.

For giving birth to them, knowing that it will be the ONLY time you get to touch, kiss,  hold, smell, look at, take pictures of them. The ONLY time when you truly feel as though you get to BE the Mother to that child.

Mother's Day this year is going to be harder because this year...I have 2 in Heaven.

Pardon my French...but I'm calling Bull Sh**!

When I started this blog I figured..."oh, someday it will be a great place to uplift and support other women and families trudging though the aftermath of a Late Miscarriage."

But...the more I write...the more my words reach a depth inside of myself that on some days I can't seem to understand, find or make sense of.

My blog is a safe place to reassure MYSELF that, hopefully, at some point, this pain...this grief...this sense of feeling worthless...this yell at the sky...this punch the couch...this absolutely life changing sorrow...will one day make me a stronger person. A better friend. A more grateful mother.

 I don't know how. I don't know why. I just do. Because if I believe for a second that there wasn't a Damn good reason for having to go through all of this...I would loose my freaking mind.

So lately I have been searching for something. That one certain thing, that will click...that thing that will just make sense...that will just sooth my sole...that will make me feel some what put back together. Complete. Whole again.

Scripture verses. Praying. Writing. Driving. Being overly tired. Being overly scheduled. Going to the temple. Talking with people. Service. Not talking with people. Watching mind numbing amounts of stupid shows. Etc.

Unfortunately, I haven't found my one thing. And the worst part is, that nobody can relate to me personally to help me out. No one seems to understand where I'm at. So I have to put on a front and BS my way through my day.

I just want to NOT have this event define the rest of my life. But I'm still not sure how to move forward. How does one become "okay" with the fact that their never going to be able to experience this life with their child? How do you just "get over" it?

I mean, I can get over the fact that a favorite sports team didn't win a big game. I can get over not being skinny, ever...again. And I can certainly get over not eating a favorite candy. I can get over not buying a certain house, car, clothing or shoes. But how do you become so desensitized to fact that your child is never coming back? I can't just get over the fact that Harbor died.

So...

I'm calling Bull Sh** on..."Getting Over" my son's death.
I'm calling Bull Sh** on...me writing to help others.
I'm calling Bull Sh**...on this whole thing.

Decisions

When I started my family...I never imagined that I would have to hold an angel here on earth. I never thought that in a million years, I would have to decide weather to bury or cremate my baby. Pick out a casket smaller then my daughters American Girl Doll or which Urn to hold his remains in.

I never knew that there were so many heartfelt, heart wrenching and pain stakingly difficult decisions I would have to make.

To hold a memorial service for a baby NO one ever got to hold. Let alone ever got to see. Or just do away with the notion, as to not put friends and family members in an awkward position. I mean really..."today we gather together family and friends...we're here to...what...celebrate a life that never was...we're here to...say our good byes to a baby we never got to say Hello too..." It was a hard decision to NOT hold a service. I mean, that is what people do when someone dies. Right? To Hold some sort of service to commemorate a life that was lived.

My grandmother past away in December 2013. At her funeral, people sang songs that she loved. They told stories about her. We laughed. We cried. We rejoiced that she was finally...after 86 years, she was returning home to Heaven. She had children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren present at her funeral. We had a chance to pick one of Grandma's Teddy Bears that she collected, to keep as a keepsake, to remind us of her.

So in comparison...Harbor didn't have people tell stories about his life. There wasn't a gathering to mourn together and have people hold us up. We wept secretly in our home. We don't have the memories to last us until we meet again in Heaven. Harbor never had a chance to hug a Teddy Bear or to look at a book or hear a book read. He won't ever have children or give me grandchildren. Basically, it was as if he never existed. And that hurts. I never had a chance to make him an outfit to be cremated in. I never had a chance to make him a blanket to be wrapped up in.

When your in the moment of just trying to come to terms that your baby has died, you can't and don't think about anything else. You have to make decisions that will haunt you the rest of your life. We didn't know that we could have put pictures, toys,   a blanket, flowers, etc. with him when he was cremated. I hate that I didn't even think to ask. But it was my 1st experience planning a funeral for anybody, let alone my own baby. But in our case, NO funeral. But funeral arrangements.

My thoughts are really heavy this evening. This weekend has been a trying time for me. My nephew had his 1st Communion and the last time we were in that church was right after I had had "A." But this time, my newly born nephew was the baby in attendance. My thoughts and emotions were difficult to hold back. So many people were in attendance to this joyous occasion. It was truly a beautiful service.

But thinking about how things were suppose to play out differently.

How in 12 weeks...we were suppose to be bringing our son home for the 1st time. Friends and family members would have joined us in our room after his birth, to hold him and love on him and Thank God he was apart of our family. In less then 12 weeks from now, I was suppose to be having my baby shower. Which my dear friend and neighbor had already started planning. I would have started his baby blanket, baby book, made numerous outfits with little suspenders and ties on them. I would be worrying where we would put up his crib, Hang his clothes & store his stuff.

Not...planning his funeral. Not...grieving in silence. Not...trying to hold myself together. Not...being able to freely share his existence with my friends, my family, the world...is just NOT FAIR.