Wednesday, July 16, 2014

HOPE & life after loss...

The bitter reality of life is that death is a part of it. Children die every single day leaving parents to do what no parent ever wishes to do...bury their child. I have seen a mother in her 90's cry over her daughter's casket and I have been the mother crying over my infant son's casket...I am here to tell you friends, it doesn't matter how old your child is, how old you many years you had him or her with you, how many days, or if you ever got to say "hello" before you had to say "goodbye..." loss is tough. Losing a child at any age is tough. There are no words I can write here for those that understand just what I am talking about except for I am so sorry...

Death is part of our lives, it is a part of life...and to be honest friends there are some days I just want to say "God, please no more." And as fast as I can say that, my heart is nudged back into place accepting that as much as death is a part of life, so is our hope. And our hope of heaven leads me right back to the place of a mother that will one day see her son again and with that, peace settles right back in.

Within our community, there are families hurting right now as they struggle with the loss of a child and I am here to tell you that after nine years I still struggle with it too. I struggle with the loss of our son and I struggle with the losses of children surrounding me. But in the midst of all of the struggles, God is there. His peace and joy reside even when the circumstances tell me differently. 

My heart hurts for all who know the pain of losing a very much. My mama heart wants to just hug all the mamas out there right now and give them cookies and Kleenex and just sit a while with them, even if in silence. Just to sit a while...and let them know I care and I am sorry for their pain, their loss. So very sorry.

My love and prayers to each and every one of you tonight...may the hope within your heart shine bright enough for you to see it, to feel it, to believe it and to experience it. XO!

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Nine Years Later...I Love Him Still and Always Will

  1. Nine years ago our lives changed forever.

    It started as one of the most beautiful and anticipated days of our lives as we were bringing our second son into the world.

    It ended with his death and leaving me with permanent physical disabilities that would claim much of my health and also strip away my career as a result.

    Matthew lived 25 minutes before he went to heaven. Ultimately, he lost his life saving mine. He was my very first blood donor and no one would know it before it was too late for him.

    I lived miraculously. I was on life support for four days, flat lined twice, DIC, two emergency surgeries and the list goes on. By all accounts, I should not be here.

    Life would never be the same. Emotional and physical pain would accompany me and change the dynamics of all that we did, what we knew, what was. Everything was different.

    Doctors, hospitals, procedures, meds, physical therapy all became part of our lives permanently the day we left the hospital without our son.

    Life was never the same.

    Matthew died the day before my 31st birthday.

    Tomorrow is my 40th birthday and also the 25th anniversary of my nephew's passing. My birthday stinks...I don't like to celebrate my birthday but I celebrate life. The life I was heart hurts for the lives that were taken away.

    Matthew should be here blowing out his candles and reality is he is not. I miss him and I miss him growing up and doing life with us in our home but he is in our hearts forever. This home is just temporary...and that is a good thing. One day...forever eternally is going to happen. That gives my heart so much hope.

    As much as I miss Matthew, I would do it all over again to be his mama...even bearing the physical burden of pain and disabilities. Once again, this is temporary here on earth. I would do it all over again.

    I know that the struggle of grief and pain is real, I am no stranger to it. But I also know that through it all, even on my worst and saddest days, I have joy in my heart and peace that surpasses all understanding. That is God given and I am grateful.

    So today I can wish my son a Happy Birthday in heaven with joy in my heart and the peace that I claim daily. Sure tears in my eyes...that's a given...and probably some cookies in my hand...but full of hope in my heart I am going to get through today and tomorrow...and the rest of my life.

    Turning 40 seems so overrated. Surviving the death of my son at 31 and the physical and emotional hell that I have been through gives me the ability to laugh in the face of this thing called age.

    Life is a gift that everyone doesn't get to unwrap or keep...

    Life is precious.

    Life is never the same after losing a child.

    That, that I know.

    The pain of losing Matthew has taken us many places and been messy but God has taken the mess and made it beautiful.

    We thought we had a lifetime to make memories with Matthew...

    Love those around you today, don't wait thinking you have tomorrow or the rest of your life....

    Don't wait.

    If Matthew were here today he would want us to live, to laugh and to love and that friends is just what we plan to do...

    For our sweet boy, we love you, we miss you muches! I can't wait to squeeze your cheeks and hold you and never let you day I am going do that! I am going to never let you go! So run around heaven all you can til' I get there because then you will be stuck in mama's arms and no one will tell me it's time to let you go again!

  2. Happy 9th Birthday to you Matthew! Our lives are so much better because you lived!

    PS...I loved you first, I love you still and I always will! Always!

Friday, June 20, 2014

July 2nd is heart knows it...

Just having a SAD day...

You ever have one and not know why?  Nothing really to blame it on... just sad.

Well, I do not have to look at a calendar to tell you why my heart is on the brink of tears so often these days.... because I KNOW what the calendar says... and it says July 2 is approaching like a freight train.

And literally the closer the freight train gets to me, the heavier my heart feels.

That freight train runs full throttle for me.. from the beginning of June until July 24th... Matthew passed away on July 2nd, and we buried him on July 23rd...

You see, when a mother (or a father) buries their baby / child, their hearts ALWAYS know when the day of the anniversary is drawing near...  Within our hearts are like little clocks that tic and toc as the hour draws nigh... tic toc... tic toc...

You can hear the silent rocking chair sway... back and forth.

But no crying... at least not tears that you would expect to fill the nursery... not an infant's tears but a mother's heart wrenching groans...

Tic toc...

If we could only rewind the time... WHAT IF?   If you lost a child, I know you have replayed the scenario time and time again... "IF ONLY..."  If only you knew... and the what if's...

NO matter where you are, what you are doing as the clock is ticking your heart is very aware of the time...

One minute closer to the time of death proclaimed on that horrible piece of paper, the death certificate...

Tic toc...

Sadness, spontaneous tears and buckets of crazy ups and downs are swept in uninvited, yet at the same time, embraced.

How does that happen?  You may wonder if you have never experienced the loss of a child...

It just does.

Grief is no respecter of persons.

I must be honest with you... I have been no stranger to grief now for almost nine years... and I think that when you lose a child you lose part of you, forever.  And as much as people would, and do 'suggest' to me to get over my grief, I don't want to.  And if that shocks you, please keep reading...

You see, part of being Matthew's mama is very painful, because he isn't with me and I miss him... and as much as God has helped me and healed me, I am forever going to miss him and that makes my heart grieve.  I will never quit missing him, and I never want to quit... so my heart grieves my baby and that is how it works.  I am just doing the best I can and when grief comes, I embrace it... and let it flow.

It is just as natural as it is loving someone.  You cannot stop that either.  It is natural for my heart to feel the grief of my baby just as it is as natural for me to love him more every day!

As my heart is doing the countdown... I loudly hear the tic toc... and the echo of the silent rocking chair going back and forth...  as much as I don't want to feel the pain, I do not want to miss it.

Sad... I am sad today.

Tic toc... tic toc...

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Today was a rough myself grace

Today was a rough day.

Won't even try and hide that.

Really rough.

Matter of fact, so rough I came home and went to bed for three hours.

Surgery day.  Not for me, but for my brother-n-law.  What???  Why was his surgery so rough for me, you may be thinking...well...because his surgery was in the very hospital that Matthew died in.

Matter of fact, about thirty feet from the surgery waiting room stands two double doors to "The Birthing Center."  Yep, step outside in that hallway, and there it is, the place that takes my breath away just to see it.  The place where my life crumbled, fell apart, the place my son lost his life and I almost lost mine.  I was right back there...

I remembered walking in healthy and happy (and enormously pregnant) the day we had Matthew... I remembered leaving in a wheelchair without him with a broken body and a broken heart.  

In all of the chatter with those surrounding me, I heard nothing least not words they were speaking.  I just heard silence...the silence of my baby not crying, the echo of tears falling to the floor...

As mouths moved and talked to me throughout the busy morning today, I was present, but not really...the past came flooding back to me like grief often does but in monsoons and not so much waves.  I found myself angry and full of hurt and sadness.  I had a moment.  And it kept coming back again and again.  I didn't want to be by anyone and actually walked down the halls of the labor and delivery floor just sinking it all in, the grief.  I couldn't run from it because it surrounded me, literally, so I let it be, I embraced the hurt, the pain and let it just take me where I needed to go...The pain in my body radiated with each step, but I kept going.

There was a man walking the hall with a blue wreath in his hand...I knew where it was going and I got sick.  Literally sick.

I didn't get to hang a baby blue wreath on my birthing suite door, but rather a black wreath of on my business door was hung letting all know tragedy came upon our family.

Then at the end of the hall way, a family was eagerly awaiting their families new arrival.  Gulp. I thought as I walked past them how our families smiles quickly turned to tears and screams of sorrow in that very same place.

I wanted to tell the new mom at the end of the hall way how blessed she was her baby girl was healthy and alive...

I went  into the bathroom and there it was that soap.  The scent of the soap catapults my every being back into that time.  It is amazing how a scent can bring you right back to places.  I don't want to go back anymore...

I hate that soap.

Every floor and every sound that accompanies the hospital were just playing the song louder and louder in my head, "my son died right heart broke right family held our dead son in their arms right there in that room while I was in the operating room and doctors were saving my life..."  You know, that song.  It is a "sucky" song.

A very "sucky" song.

But it is my song.  At least part of it.

You may be wondering why I would go back to the very place that holds so many tragic memories and well, the answer is because it is a place that our families and friends are taken care of in while they are sick, needing surgeries and medical emergencies often bring us back there...sometimes it is just harder to handle than other times.  Today was one of those harder days.

This is our local hospital and I cannot run from my friends and family that need me when they are sick or hurting.  I have many friends who work there and seeing many of them today did make me smile, briefly, but they did make me smile.

I got grounded really quick when we visited my good friend waiting to have surgery in the later part of the morning, her 14 year old daughter with Sanfillipo Syndrome was in Hospice care while she was having her surgery.  My heart throbbed as I looked at my friend and saw the concern in her eyes and heart about her daughter and it grounded me.  See, Sarah, her daughter has a terminal illness that will claim her little life very soon, unless there is a miracle; and there is nothing her mama can do, but love her and take care of her until the day she joins Jesus in heaven.  That hurts my heart.  I found strength in encouraging her realizing that we don't know what will happen tomorrow, but God does and He is already there.  

After a successful surgery we were all in tears on the way home remembering those tragic moments...and sis said it best, "it's a cry day." 

Places we visit will ultimately bring back memories, some good, some bad...and that is just part of life.  And death is part of life, a part of my life and to be standing in the very place that death came upon our family broke me down today and I felt much anger, hurt and lots of other crazy stuff too that I didn't really know I still had in me...but I guess I did.

So I have emptied all that bad stuff out (once again) and loaded my heart back up with heaping scoops of grace...but before I could do that, I had to give myself a lot of grace to say it's okay that I had a bad day...It's okay.

When my husband walked in, he hugged me and said "I'm so sorry..."

Me too.  Me too.

As I laid in bed trying to get over this yucky feeling, I thought of the very first time I held our little Will...and that did it.  I smiled and got out of bed.

God, thank you. 

I am a blessed mama.  (and so very grateful)

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

But a moment were here...

{This was an archived post but I pulled it today to memory of those that were here but a moment ago...}

But a moment, and you're gone.

How can it be with the blink of an eye something has the momentum and the power to change your life forever?

Child loss... but a moment, is all it takes.

A moment that is frozen in time and forever etched within the script of your heart.

Nothing will ever be the same.

The circumstances, do they really matter when all that matters is already gone?

Speechless... are there any words that will render something soothing to the heart that is so shattered?

I am not speaking about things we don't feel, but rather the things we cannot explain.

Nor do words have adequate power to describe the emptiness that is within.

But a moment ago... you were here...

©2011-2013 All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

You're gonna miss this...

Yesterday at this VERY moment, there were mothers and fathers everywhere filled with big dreams and hopes for their child's future.

Today, just a mere twenty four hours later, they are faced with cherry wood or oak...three songs or four? And the worst, picking out the location of where their child will be laid to rest...

No diplomas, no birthday celebrations or parties, no more "Hey Mom, I'm home..."

No more nursery rhymes or picking out pink or blue...

No more.

But just yesterday they had it all...

I had a yesterday once...nine years ago.  I had it all...and lost him the very next day.

I am always reminded no matter how much time you have, it is precious.  There are moments we just can't get yesterday.

Some are staring at the very last text, or preserving the very last message...

Some are looking at messy rooms wishing for just one more mess...

Some are looking at empty cribs wishing to hear one last cry...

And most are probably screaming "WHY???" 

I have been there, done that.

Through the years grief has been no stranger to me..I miss my son every day.  I hate that I wanted my pregnancy to be over as quick as possible because I felt so fat. (gasp!)  I hate that I rushed the moments I would never get to have again.  I miss them...I miss Matthew.  I thought we had the rest of his life to look forward to, for our big dreams for him to come true...but we didn't. 

No matter your age, your child's age, or the circumstances, I think Trace Adkins says it the best...

You're gonna miss this...
You're gonna want this back...
You're gonna wish these days
hadn't gone by so fast...
These are some good times...
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
but you're gonna miss this!

Oh how that song stirs my very soul every single time I hear it.

Just the other day I was cleaning up our house and stumbled across this mess my boys made...I didn't complain about it being left behind by the boys as they hurried off to school...instead I sang in a quiet little voice "You're gonna miss this..." as big mama tears rolled down my face.

Wherever you are today, whatever your situation, I send you love and hugs today understanding some of you know exactly what I am talking about...and you miss it too!

My thoughts and prayers go out to all of mothers and fathers who have endured the heartache of loss and to all of those that are grieving their loved ones in the wake of the aftermath of the terrible tornadoes.  I am so sorry.  So very sorry.

Thursday, April 24, 2014

And they called me a "snob..."

This is going to be a blunt post.  Maybe TMI for some of you, but the fact is that this is real life for me.  And real life isn't always what it "looks" like it is...or even "acts" like it is...hang with me and I'll explain.

Hi my name is Lori and I have a neurogenic bowel and bladder due to trauma and complications from a uterine rupture.  I have multiple other injuries to go along with that, but today, its all about the bottom!

Did that scare you off yet?

If  not, hang on, I got something better to go along with that.

For the past nine years (in July) I have lived with neurogenic bowel and bladder.  Don't know what that means? Well, in a nut shell, I am numb and incontinent.  My bladder and bowel do not function as they should.  I don't feel when I have to go to the bathroom and I can't make myself go to the bathroom.

I have had surgeries, bladder therapy, bowel training...and all that pretty stuff through the years.  I have learned to do the very best I can and live life praying that God will help me moment by moment, place to place.  There are days I must avoid eating before I leave the house, watch my fluid intake and such.  I self catheterize about ten times daily to empty my bladder.  Glamorous, right?  Truth.  I know it's not pretty, but it's the truth.

So, as one may imagine, I have had many accidents.  Many.  Too many to count, but none I have forgotten. (big sad sigh.)

I am telling this VERY personal information for awareness...Some people just have NO IDEA what others go through and are very quick to assume or judge them based on their appearances or actions.

Here's what I mean.

I look so healthy.  Yes, don't I?  I look like I have it all.  (I am not talking about beauty, I am referring to physical health, stamina and endurance.)  BUT...I simply do not.  And unless you know personal details, you would never know it.

Years ago when I wrote my book, I swallowed my pride and shared with everyone about my injuries and the limits that I have.  But not everyone has read it or is familiar with my story.

Let me get to why I am really sharing this-

I was once to my face (probably more than once) called out on being a "snob."  Someone actually told me I was a snob and acted like I was too good to be sitting in the bleachers by the rest of baseball moms. GASP!

Yes, that is what I just said.  Me, a snob.

My son plays baseball, a lot of baseball.  And through the years, there have been some major ups and downs of bowel / bladder training.  Due to the epic failure of training, I often sit in the outfield, on the bleachers or in a chair closest to the bathrooms, sometimes consciously away from the crowds, NOT because I don't want to sit by them, but sometimes because I am too afraid to sit by them because of the possibility of an accident.

I have never distanced myself from sitting with baseball moms because I thought I was better than anyone. Period.  I distance myself because I have to do what I have to do and that is be comfortable in my surroundings if I have an accident and need a quick get a way.  Period.  I have learned to do what makes my body as comfortable as it can be so I can enjoy my son's ballgames and such.  I  adapt according to my stomach issues of the day, no matter where I am or where I am going.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to have your son at bat with two outs and not have any control over your bowels?  Talk about nerves getting the best of you.  Been there. Done that too many times.

Y'all, it made me sick when I was called a "snob."  I cried when I got home and just thought they have no idea.  Really, ignorance is what I have to chalk it up to to survive this world of people who judge my "cover" (my outside appearance) before they even know me.

I am going to go a bit deeper, if you can take it.

One weekend we were at the ball field.  I had mustered the courage to sit in the bleachers with the rest of the moms.  I held my breath a lot and prayed a lot.  I was terrified I would get sick.

The game was over...and as we were walking to the car it happened.  I had a sundress on and everything started to run down my legs.  I completely panicked and started running through the parking lot.  I was wearing flip flips and actually broke them on the way.  My son running behind me didn't know what was wrong and he was screaming "Mom, what is it?  Are you okay?"  I glanced behind me and there from our team were parents and one of my son's teammates.  I ran faster and the more I ran, the more came out.  BY the time I made it to the car, my husband and son were in tears with me.  Both carefully trying to tend to me and the mess that I was standing in.  Gulp.  I was so, so sad that my son had to see that.  So sad.

There was another game that evening and on the drive home, sitting on a garbage bag wrapped in a towel, tears streamed down my face.  I was embarrassed.  I was hurt.  I was mad.  I was so sad.

My son sat in the back seat doing his best to make me feel better.  It was then I was determined I was going back to the ball field for the next game.

We got  home, I took a bath while my husband cleaned the car and all that stuff and then I put some leggings and a long shirt on, added another coat of mascara and we headed out the door.

When we pulled up to the ball field, my husband grabbed my hand and walked right beside me.  He carefully put my blanket on the ground in the outfield where I sat there and watched my son play ball.

I was grateful God gave me the courage to go back out there and I was so thankful to have such incredible support from my husband and son.

Bottom line, it takes an awful lot of courage for me to go anywhere.  Through the years I have carefully learned to listen to my body and do what is best to help me navigate life with such extreme injuries that alter so much of life for me.

This post was really scary for me to share.  But I believe there is enough of a need out there to share this. Maybe you think the person you see at the ball field is a snob too...or maybe it is you that can relate to my situation.  Perhaps you have been judged by your cover too, and if so, I am sorry. Really sorry.

Either way, be kind.  Be kind to others and quit thinking things about them that you just don't know.

Let's  not assume things about people.  If you want to know why they are in the outfield or sit far away from the crowd, why don't you just talk to them.  Go out of your way to learn their story instead of jumping to your own conclusions.

To the person(s) who called me a snob because I wouldn't/ didn't sit by you... here you go.  You choose what you will do with it now.  I am going to recommend you look in the mirror and start there, being kind to yourself and to others.  Please know this post is written with love and harbors no ill feelings of any kind.

And for all of the lovely people that can relate to any of my story, hang in there!  We are going to make it!

There you have it y'all...more of my story.  It isn't always pretty, but I promise you it is as authentic as it gets.

Love to all!

*Please note, with all of these injuries to my body also came the death of  my son.