Soul Mates

I don't really believe in "soul mates" as far as a man and a woman being the only right person for one another.  I believe that there are many people one could end up with, and it is your decisions that matter and decide the path you go down.  That being said, I believe that Owen is my soul mate.  Lucas' too.  That feeling of someone being absolutely "mine"... and completely belonging to someone else.  He had me from the moment I saw the two pink lines.  I was his.  When I saw him open his eyes and look at me... I have never felt anything like I felt at that moment.  The magnitude of having a child that you created... together... is absolutely unreal.  I know that all of our decisions for Owen came from a place of absolutely unending love, and I hope with all of my might that Owen knows that.  I feel like he does.  I feel like he knows that we did everything in our power to keep him, and that we tried so hard to give him peace when he left his body.  I hope that in Heaven, he still feels connected to us in a powerful way, the way that we feel connected to him. 

All of my heart is with my boy tonight.  <3

...

God I miss him.

Lower

When you lose your child... you lose the ability to say "ugh, today was the worst day ever".  It isn't.  You know it isn't.  It isn't even close to the worst day ever.  But today was a very bad day.  It even makes the top 10 list of bad days... and believe me, that is saying something.  Today I found out I am not pregnant.  Again.  And I am out of Clomid... and if I take it again I will be going over the 6 month recommendation of the medical community.  I honestly really haven't thought of this day.  I put everything I had into the last 4 months... all of my hope rested there.  I was CERTAIN we would get pregnant.  So certain, I refused to think of the alternative.  Where would we be if it didn't work?  And here I am.  In this place.  With no good options.  Do we go to more aggressive treatment, which we always said we wouldn't do?  Do we give up on having a child of our own and hope that an adoption works out for us within the next couple of years?  Thinking about 2 more years without the hope of a child makes me want to crawl in a dark hole and never come out.  I just keep thinking... what if Owen was it for me?  He's gone and I can't hold him, and what if that is all there is for my life?  If he had lived... that would have been enough.  I could have been happy just loving him.  But what do I do now?  I didn't think I could get any lower than I was... and yet here I am.

Dark Spaces

I have been struggling with flashbacks.  Some would say that I am suffering from PTSD.  This may be the case.  I really don't care what it's called... it what is happening.  And it sucks.  These flashes take me to the darkest places of my life.  Some of them I don't even remember until that moment.  Others I replay over and over like a movie reel of my worst nightmare.  It sneaks up on me.  Sometimes I am singing along to Taylor Swift in the car.   Then I am at the cemetery watching two men put my son into the ground.  I am walking into the chapel and seeing a casket far tinier than it was in my imagination.  I am in the NICU and my son is hooked up to 7 thousand wires to try and find out why he is having seizures.  I am in a private room because I was swearing in the hallway of the hospital and disturbing the other parents, because they just told me we were out of options.  I am tuning out the doctor who is trying to talk to me while I'm holding my son for the first and last time.  I am in the hospital at the end of April listening to a doctor tell me that if I deliver my sweet precious boy that day... he has a 0% chance of surviving.  I am seeing the doctor check his pulse and telling us he is gone.  I am picking out a burial plot, trying to decide where Owen might like best.  I am talking to Owen in my belly on bed rest.  Telling him how many more days he has to stay in there to give him the best shot we had.  I am sitting at the hospital on delivery day, and the anesthesiologist is telling me that if he dies right away, they won't be able to bring me out of it to say goodbye. 

I am trying so hard to get some control in my life... and it feels like the powers that be don't care how hard I am trying.  Life just keeps getting more difficult and no one sees that I can't take one more thing or I am going to drown.  I am trying everyday to be positive and be hopeful.  And I am constantly sucked back to those days, to the most horrible moments of my existence... which unfortunately are intermingled with the absolute best moments of my existence.  I don't know how to reconcile this. I don't know how to live with it yet.  I don't know how to separate the light spaces from the dark spaces.

Sweet baby,

I miss you so much. I cry and I cry and I just wish I could hold you again. I would give anything for us to be together. I want to know where you are and what you look like now and what you're doing and what your laugh sounds like. Will I ever get these things? It just feels like my heart is so full of love and it hurts because I can't give it to you. It just sits there and I want you to know how much you are loved and how badly I wanted you. You were supposed to get to grow up and go fishing with your dad and I was going to make you waffles on sundays. I could imagine you and I having conversations in the morning before your dad got up and I was so excited to get to know you and your sense of humor. I don't know why we didn't get to have that. I don't know why you had to leave. 8 months ago today, you were still alive and I could touch you and smell you and talk to you. And now you're gone. The finality of it all takes my breath away. I guess there's nothing new to say, I love you, I miss you always. Sunday is your 8 month angelversary... I will eat waffles and I will hope you're with me.

Love,
Your Mom

Medium

So on Friday night, I went to see a medium.  It was a group of about 12 people, so it wasn't a private session or anything.  I know many may have thoughts or judgments about me believing in mediums, psychics, what-have-you, but I believed in all of it long before I lost Owen (i.e. those people should keep their comments to themselves).  I was very anxious for this session because I so wanted it to leave me feeling a bit lighter.  I was also prepared for the fact that it may not do anything for me. 

I am glad to say that it was a very positive experience.  Again, there were about 12 people in the group, so I got about 10-15 minutes of reading just for me, but I just feel better.  I would absolutely do it again in a private session.  I am not going to go into detail about what was said to me, but everything was full of hope and beauty and love.  I feel more hopeful today than I have felt in a year.  We found out in January of last year that something was wrong... and I have been living in my own personal hell since that day.  My son brought so much into my life, and when he left, my heart went with him to Heaven.  Last night was the first time since he died that I felt like I was a mother, and that someone else could see that I was a mother.  She could see my love for him and his love for me. 

Today has been the best day for my husband and I in a long time. He did not go with me last night, but I know he can feel my new sense of hope.  I feel like some of the weight of my constant grief has been lifted. It is still there, and this experience of course does not make me miss Owen less, or make my anger go away, but I feel like it's less heavy.  I can breathe without feeling like there is a boulder sitting on my chest. 

Many tears were cried last night... and even as I write this... but I feel for the first time like the tears are not only for my despair, but for my love too.  

I hope that this feeling lasts, but I'll take what I can get for now. 

Trying

I have taken a bit of a hiatus from the blog since New Years. I wish I could write that I had some philosophical purpose for this... like I was using this time for reflection or to start the New Year off the right way, but I can say no such thing. I just....I just felt like writing wasn't bringing Owen back to me, so why bother. I have felt more alone lately than I have ever in my life. I have tried to put things in place so that we can "move on" (I'm not really sure what that even means), but it's not making me feel any better inside.

We have been trying to get pregnant. I haven't told many people this... mostly because I don't want people to ask me if I'm pregnant (so if you know me in real life... please don't ask me how it's going). I struggled with infertility for 3 years before I got Owen. I do not, under any circumstances, believe that it will be any easier this time around. One would think that if the universe was fair... it would just be easier this time. It's not. Failed cycle after failed cycle. It hurts every single time. Sometimes I feel like maybe I am an insane person... I keep expecting different results from my same stupid body, even though it has given me no reason to believe it will do what I want.

A small part of me feels like I am being punished for wanting another baby. This is very upsetting to me, and I'm not going to write any more about it.

We have also been proceeding with trying to adopt a baby. I try so hard to feel excited... and feel like I can hope for having a family. I am so afraid that no one is going to choose me to be their child's mother. I couldn't keep Owen... I am afraid that they are going to look at the adoption book that I worked so hard on, and think that I'm too damaged to be a good mother.

Part of me wishes that I could just reach into my brain and turn off the part that so desperately needs to be a mother. That I could just take even the smallest break from feeling broken. I feel like I am just sinking deeper and deeper into a depression and I don't see a way out. I feel like... I do ok on a day to day basis... I can function... I can laugh... I can "move on" with my life. But I have lost my hope. I don't want that to be the case. I try SO HARD every day to be hopeful. To find small things to be happy about. To be grateful that I had 6 days with my boy. It's not enough. I keep thinking that I can fake it until I make it. People tell me that it will get easier. I have to believe them, because it can't stay this hard forever. It just can't. So for now... I am going to keep trying. I guess that's as good of a place as I can hope to be in right now. I haven't given up on trying.

If you read this blog, and you pray, or think positive thoughts, or howl at the moon even... could you just do it for my family? We could really use some good news and some hope.