Birthdays, Dreams & Truths

Happy Birthday, my beloved baby boy. I see you in your brother and sisters sleeping expressions. I hear your heartbeat in natures sounds around me. I feel your tiny kicks in my dreams. On your 4th heavenly birthday, I think about that day that you were born. I remember it so vividly...scarily so. All it takes is a moment of silence, a song, a picture, a word, a glance, an embrace...and it takes me right back to August 21, 2009.

The silence brings sadness, and with that tears and wishes for a different path. A path that lead to a living, breathing, you.

Music brings the melody of your spirit closer to my heart. For those moments, it is like we are together again. Just you and I...and the miracle of motherhood. I miss our moments. 

Pictures can speak a thousand words, but when I look at yours, I can only think of one: "heartbreaking". That one word has so many meanings for me....for us. I remember thinking that I absolutely did NOT want pictures of you when I first learned that there would not be newborn, but stillborn photography offered. Now, when I look at those images, I see you and I see how similar you look to August & Astraea. In some ways that is comforting...in others...it makes me wish for more...more pictures, more memories...more...you.

Words have helped me heal. They allow me to process my feelings in a way that otherwise would feel trapped inside my mind. Although it remains difficult still to speak of you...I continue to stumble when I am asked how many children I have...writing of you comes much easier...and for that, I am thankful.

Knowing glances exchanged between your dad and I when we both experience a moment of remembrance at the same time. Private. Loving. Knowing. In those moments, your existence is cherished and often a wave of sadness washes over us and more often than not..tears still fill my eyes.

Lastly, and most dearly, on your birthday, I have the loving embrace of our family. At our beach, when the wind gently blows, I feel your love. At night, when I am snuggling with your siblings, your spirit touches our hearts. On new mornings and bright days, when white butterflies visit our backyard, your kiss crosses our path. These are our moments, Sterling. Forever. Always. Us.

The Day You Were Born

Dear Sterling,

It is hard to believe that it has been exactly two years since you were born. For some reason I'm having a hard time talking about you on this Birthday, so I decided to write to you. I've only wrote to you once before, and to be quite honest, it was a huge step in my grieving process.  I'm now in a new place emotionally. You have a 3 month old little sister and my heart is pulled in so many directions. In some way I suppose I feel "guilty" when I think of you, since Astraea was born this past May. Rationally I know these thoughts are absurd, but, I learned after we first lost you to not judge how I feel...it is what it is. This year...that is a hard thing to remember to do.

Your Big Brother, August, asks often if people get "older" in heaven. In this world of unknowns, he is bravely trying to figure out if you will always be our "Baby Sterling", or if you are "growing". As your mom, it is too hard for me to imagine what you would be like at two years old. We have brief snapshots and vivid memories that we keep dear to our hearts of you being born. Those will never be replaced with new or different experiences. My perception of those days will never change. You will always be our baby boy...born still...forever young.

My goodness this is hard to write. Just as hard as it was before. I think that is the thing. The days in between may get easier, but this day, August 21st, will always be your day...our day....a tough day.

I'm going to keep this short, if not simple. Your family loves you very much. We will be honoring YOU today. I wish you were here.

Love,

Mommy

Big Brother

August was 3 1/2 when his baby brother was born still. He is now 5 years, 2 months old and so much "wiser". Tonight, he asked to look in Baby Sterlings Memory Box. A beautiful white box with a peridot green ribbon (his birthstone), given to us by the wonderful team of nurses at Northridge Hospital. We haven't opened that box in atleast 9 months, so it was almost like a completely new experience.

As August tearfully looks at a picture of his little brother he says to me, "Mommy, why didn't I get to hold Baby Sterling when he came out of your tummy?". Simple response: "Because you were too young". Inside my heart is racing, remembering the truth, that even I...at 34 years old was "too young", or "too frail" or "too broken" or "too sad" to hold our breathless boy. His dad did though, and his explanation seemed so much more meaningful. "We held him so that we could see what it felt like. We loved him the moment we found out he was in mommy's tummy and we wanted to keep him close".

Now, instead of holding his baby brother, August has to hold his ashes. As I wached my loving son wrap up the tightly closed urn in the royal blue baby blanket that once held Baby Sterlings body, he held it close to his heart and shares, " Why can't I open it? Now I will never be able to hold him. But because I love him so much, I will always keep his ashes right here". August now knows about cremation. He not only has the comfort and at times obsession with "heaven", but he is processing the concept of "what happens when we don't need our bodies anymore". At 5. My amazing son. Talking about what he wants to happen when he dies. "Just tuck my body in my bed with my blanket and I will be comfortable" was his response a couple days ago. Tonight the request was a bit more.....hm....not sure of the word here.... "Please keep my ashes too so that you can always hold me and love me sooo much".

Again, screaming inside, I want to shout...don't say that! I can't bear the thought of losing another. Of losing of YOU! Instead, we revist the idea that everyone has a purpose. Baby Sterlings purpose is up in heaven. Ours is here on earth and we have a lifetime to "figure it all out". But this..we never will. We never will know why. Despite all the grief therapy, chromosomal testing, autopsy results, and all the sleepless nights...we really know nothing more than we did the nightwe learned of his passing. And that is OK. But to August..."It's just not fair, I love him so much. I want him to be here with our family". His words. My thoughts. Still.

When Silence Calls

I have been rather silent lately, in terms of writing on this blog. I have had many distractions; most good, some challenging. It's the silence that has called to me to write today. Not just to write for the sake of writing or to hear my "voice", but to greet the silence. To welcome it. To accept it as part of this journey. Life has continued to settle down, but all around me there are more moms who are experiencing loss every day. This week on October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, and a lot of the moms that I know are  speaking out a little louder again. Last year, it was a way for me to accept the love, peace, and support from all our friends at a time when our loss was still so new. This year, it is a way for me to give my love, peace, and support to myself, my family, and also my friends who have become so near and dear to me along this path. I thought I would draw some comparisons from last year to this...

Last year...I felt as though Sterling's stillbirth defined who I was.
This year..I know that Sterling's stillbirth will forever me a part of our family, but does not define me in my entirety.

Last year...I felt embarrased and hesitant to acknowledge that what I was going through was demanding unwanted attention.
This year...I know that emabarrasment and hesitation was a way for me to protect myself from my fears. My reality. And the attention...I needed, so deeply needed.

Last year...I was so concerned about how everyone was going to perceive me, treat me, judge me.
This year...I have grown from concerned to confident. I have taken those perceptions and can openly express that I am not the same person I was a year ago, and as I have changed, I have tried to share with others how that change has impacted my relationships at home, at work, everywhere. This will be a life long process...and I am comfortable with that.

Thats not to say that I am comfortable with my loss. That event will always sit in my heart uncomfortably. I know that may seem impersonal, to call our loss an event...but it truly was. It was a life-changer. August 21st was just another day before last year. Not anymore. Not ever.

You Are Mine

Many beautiful things happened this weekend that really showed me how God is helping me heal on this very emotional weekend. It is Monday now, and we made it through with smiles and tears. My tearful moments came quite suddenly when I least expected them to. Mostly, when I was "about to" end something. We spent a beautiful morning at the beach and it wasn't until we were "about to" pack up to leave that I became very reflective on what leaving that beach symbolized. For a moment I felt as though I was leaving my baby there once again. You see, it was exactly one year ago, at that same beach, that I went into labor and that Sweet Sterling was with us for the last time. This year, it wasn't his little feet kicking in my tummy that I could feel, it was light angel kisses on my face. Tiny trinkles of water being sprayed up from the waves that otherwise, should not have been able to reach my skin. This was a very personal treasure, and one that I am so incredibly thankful for. As we released our balloons into the sky, I had wished that the wind was blowing the balloons out over the ocean, but it was blowing the other direction. Another gentle reminder that this journey is not in my control. None of it ever was...and yes...I do find peace in that too.

Church on Sunday was a lovely service, despite everyone's emotions running high. I was doing fine until we got to the second hymn of the morning. As, my favorite piece of church music ever, the words and notes that brought me such peace and healing during my time of loss, were playing again. As if it was just for me. As my tears poured down my face, I stood alone feeling God's words, hearing Sterling's Voice, and growing  Strength through my sadness. It was the second good cry in as many days. As the pastor shared her peace with us all, she especially gave me a warm hug and held me a few moments longer. I have never felt closer to God. I truly felt like one of his children. "Do not be afraid, I am with you. I have called you each by name I love you and you are mine". Please view the video above for this entire beautiful PEACE of music. It is a wonderful tribute to my son and our heavenly father. Amen.

Happy Birthday Baby Boy

Flashes of light, silence all around


Senses restricted, my physical self bound

My mind had shut off, protecting my soul

A story of birth was about to unfold

The birth of my son, so still so sweet

I was present but absent, I couldn’t believe

That this birth was happening, yet there was no joy

Just tears, and fears of seeing my baby boy

Without life, without breath, surrounded by love

His body was here, his spirit above

I looked through tears to my stillborn son

Frightened and Removed from what just had been done

An operating table, a doctor, a light and my tears

My husband, my baby, my life, my fears

All of these things in just a few minutes past

The numbness of my experience was bound to last

But one year later, on the day Baby Sterling was born

More than anything I can still feel how my heart was so torn

Between this world and heaven, between life and death

Is an existence that has continued with each blessed breath

Not of my son, of the life that was expected to be

But of his father and brother and yes, even me.

The me now is different, in a way hard to tell

The me now is stronger, more faithful and well

The me now will forever love, think and enjoy

The moments I had and will have with my boy

As he turns one year old in heaven today

We send him our Kisses, our love, and I will pray

That his spirit in heaven has allowed him to see

His family and friends sharing such love for thee

We speak of Sterling each and every day

He continues to be with us in remarkable ways

Through sights and sounds, and sometimes even dreams

This birthday should be celebrated as strange as that seems

He deserves to be honored, remembered, and held

Within my heart, my mind, and those that felt

Such sympathy and sadness for him and for us

We thank you, we love you, we can’t say enough

For the special people in our lives who helped us to

Keep loving, keep healing, keep pushing through

To this wonderful moment where I can now see

That birthdays are birthdays, and he will always be with me.

Circle of Support

These last 11 months, people have entered into our circle of support, and some have left.  Each has undoubetdly played a very special role along our journey of healing. It is hard to imagine what it would have been like if our circle of support was any different that what it was. Than what it will continue to be. I am a firm believer that every soul enters our lives for a very specific purpose. Often in may be for a lifetime, usually it is for a matter of days, weeks, months or years, and once in a while, a soul joins yours forever and lives within you.

I begin questioning myself when I meet new people who have entered into my life: When do I tell them about Sterling? It's been 11 months since he was born into heaven. I am now meeting and developing relationships with individuals who know nothing of my loss. I almost feel that by NOT talking about Sterling, that they will have a false impression of who I am...this all because...he is part of me. By not acknowledging him, I am not sharing a part of who I am. Then the questioning continues: Will this person want to become part of my circle of support? What happens if they do and then they leave? How do I greive the loss of support along with the loss of a child? These are so many questions and fears that will sometimes work their negativity into my mind so that I go into protection mode and just say No Thank You, I'm Fine Just The Way I Am.

And then I remember the saying, "it is better to have lost love, then to never have loved at all". This desire and need to love is my life force, just as much as my breathing and beating heart.  I remember that it is because of my capacity to love and accept others just as they are, that I hope for them to accept me just for who I am as well. Even if this me is different than the me they knew before my loss or...as will happen countless times in my future...the only me they will know is the me after my loss.

I know none of this should really matter. People come, people go. But once you have lost a child, this ideal "goes" out the window. There is no rationalizing it. There is no explaining it away. Whether it be the loss of a favorite belonging, the loss of a car, the loss of a friend, or the loss of family...they will all forever be reminders and triggers of the loss of our child. And then it's the support that is so important, and that keeps pushing me through.

Maybe I like better the idea of a Support Continuum. Over time, the organizational structure of support may change as well as the level of intensity, but there is no point where the beginning meets the end. I don't think I will ever reach a point on my continuum where I will say No Thank You, I'm Fine Just The Way I Am. Even if my fears drive me to think it.

So, 11 months after the stillbirth of my son, I will keep reaching out and reaching within. I will always continue to heal, grow, learn, and appreciate each and every persons' purpose on my journey. You may not even know what purpose you play...heck..I may not even know until that moment. That moment when my mind, heart, and soul opens up and it all makes sense. But one thing is for sure...WE will forever be grateful for YOU. Always.

White Butterflies

August and I have had several visits by a white butterfly while playing in our back yard this summer. Everytime that we see one, I can't help but think of what the white butterfly symbolizes for us mothers whom have lost a baby. There are so many meanings, so many interpretatons, but if you strip all that down, it is simply another reminder of our Baby Sterling.

So whenever a white butterfly takes the time to fly around us, we take the time to say "Hi, Baby Sterling" and take a deep breath. In that split second I feel as though I am sharing the same moment with August and with Sterling at the same time. I wish for more of those moments, but will always appreciate those rare occassions that we are blessed with. So precious, so pure, so rare. Exhale.

Gone Just As Long

Its been 9 months since Sterling was born still. I have now exceeded the time since his birth/death versus  how long he was alive and part of my working womb. I don't know what significance that information has, other than it means something to me. Just something. He was to be our 2nd child, carefully planned to be born happy and healthy before my 35th birthday. Today is the day after my 35th birthday. Yes, I did have my second child, but I don't truly have him. Not the way I wish for. Not the way I want his brother to remember him. Not the way...yet...its the only way that I have. And I have come to terms with that...9 months later.

Now, I really am affected when August brings up Sterling out of nowhere. He now has conversations with him, and shares those with Christopher and I with such sweet abandon. I treasure those moments...so sweet with sorrow. ..recently, so frequent. His soft words still bring tears to my eyes, but at the same time they bring a warmth to my heart. A warmth that only August, as Sterlings Brother, can bring. Thank you, my precious boys....what a wonderful Mother's day gift.

Mother's day....I had fleeting seconds of sadness...knowing that the entirety of my motherhood is not livingly represented. We drove past several cemetaries and I observed multiple funerals happening this past Sunday that is meant to honor those whom have lost mothers. I hope that those families can some how still let the sun shine down on them. I still look for my rays of light. My children. My future. My life. I wondered briefly if that is something that children who have lost a parent traditionaly do on Mother's Day. Go visit their mothers, grandmothers, foster mothers, adopted mothers, surrogate mothers...there are so many types of mothers....and then mothers of babies lost and of babies living. Maybe even mothers makingmore babies. I'm rambling....sorry. General summation....I am so proud to be a mom. It is awesome. I hope to be a mom to more. 9 months ago, I planned to be a mom to more. I was ready. I was willing. I was so excited. And then I lost that life...but I did not lose mine. I have found the will and desire to go to that place again. We shall see what conversations are to be had...all I know....is that I will be listening.

If I Had You

When I first received the CD that had this song on it, I immediately flipped to the lyrics to read hopefully words that would somehow comfort me. I really don't like "what if's" though. In fact...I despise them, more so than ever since Sterling. So what caused me to gravitate toward a song with that title?  I think that I was looking for something to relate to. Anyway....even if it meant that I could some how interpret or twist words and phrases into significant meaning for that moment. Today...this song is being released as a single, and the CD that it was originally on is being re-released with several re-mixes of previous songs. Re---re-----re-----If I had you.....there is no replay, remix, release for the aftermath of losing a child that anyone ever should experience. Yet we do...and these are some of my replays....

I replay in my mind the moment that I saw you for the first time.
I replay in my mind seeing you in your bassinet, so still, so covered, so present...but not.
I replay in my mind your dad. His tears. My numbness.
I replay in my heart the sinking feeling when your heartbeat couldn't be found.
I replay in my heart the sharpness of realizing that what's done is done.
I replay in my heart the longing for more..more moments...more time...more courage...more babies....more...more...more

I don't walk around replaying these moments every day. Usually they hit me in spurts. And then they are gone. Just as he is. But he was...Still Born.

The Fear Factor

Ask any parent, what is their number one fear? Losing their children. As I listened to Pastor Jim talk about this message today at service, I began reflecting. On the loss of Sterling. On the fear of losing August. On facing the fear of loss probability/possibility in future journeys through pregnant-hood. Yes, I made up a new word..but pregnancy truly is more than just a state of being for a temporary amount of time. For some, pregnant-hood is the only level of parent-hood ever reached.

I am blessed that I have August and that I am able to experience the joys and the fears of parenting.
As he turned 4 this past weekend, I watched him whirling and twirling with excitement and yes...fear...on some of the rides at Disneyland. Talk about entering a world for the first time and havig no idea what to expect, and the willingness to just jump in, feet first, strapped in tight, and TRUST that mommy and daddy are right and this will be fun and safe. Even if it's a different ride than the circus train, which is so predictable, so fun, and yes, even though we never rode it before, so familiar.

Thus is the mind-set that a parent after loss must try to take into pregnant-hood again, and overcome the fear factor. If she chooses to do so, that is. Sometimes, when defeated, it is so easy for me to throw my hands up in the air and say that if I can't have it my way, then I don't want it anyway. The truth is, there is no "my way". There never has been. There is Gods way, and my path. My path may be filled with whirling and twirling, and yes, I must TRUST too that His way will lead me. I am not alone. I have an amazing husband, an incredible team of co-workers, friends, and collegues, and I have my son. Correction---I have my sons. And when they are not by my side, I miss them like crazy. Each seperately, each differently...sometimes at the same time.

Its the love that I experience with August that makes me want, more than anything, to love another child. Not just any other child. My child. Our child. I'm also starting to realize that its more than that too. The love that I feel from my son to me, and that I see from him to his dad, gives me purpose. Just as much as he needs us, we need him. To love a living child. Love. Unconditional. Conventional. Pure. Constant. Reciprocal.

I know, deep into my heart, that Baby Sterling loves us. Just as I know God loves us. Some days I can feel their love. Other days I have to try harder to open my spirit and my senses to them. But all days, no matter what, I cannot hold them. I cannot look into their eyes and see my purpose. And that makes me sad. I think, no, I know, that it always will. But sadness can be tolerated, accepted, and even understood. So can fear. Yes, it may always be a factor, but I cannot let it be a deciding factor. I choose not to. Its not my way. Its not my path. But it is my reality. And that is OK.

The Past 6 months...

Today is the 6 month mark. Upon reflection, these past six months have been filled with such heart felt moments. No superficial feelings of loss or lonliness, just the draining, energy absorbing, sadness and longing for feeling differently, not necessarily better. 6 months ago I could not even identify a feeling that I was having. I couldn't discriminate, distinguish or even describe what was going on in my mind, and more importantly my heart. I was numb. I couldn't handle the question "how are you?". My therapist told my husband to just ask me "If I was having a feeling", that way all I had to do was answer yes or no. That was my cognitive level. I culdn't even do choices. Only yes/no questions. I think I felt like my life had no choices at the time. No control. No ability to change anything.

Now I do have choices. I can change, I am changing. Every day. I am able to even do "fill in the answer" types of questions regarding my feelings. Its not easy. It doesn't come easily. But its emerging. I can FEEL it. Thats a big change. I can feel once again. I can even feel excitement for things to come. I am beginning to have hope.

At my Jenny Craig weigh in today, I met a huge milestone. My response..."It's not real until it is sustained. I could wake up tomorrow and be no farther ahead than I am today." I think that statement is subconciously, now a bit more conciously, my driving force of acceptance to just be. Just be me today. Not the me of yesterday. Not the me of tomorrow. 4 months ago I couldn't do that. Shoot...I didn't even know who "me" was....But I now know that its my drive, my determination, my support system, my ability to choose how I feel, and miraculously, to look at what tomorrow may bring as "what may happen" vs. "what should happen". How do you even compare the loss of a child to the loss of weight. You don't. But I just did. A lot of "Butts" in this post. Hmmmmmm.

2 months ago, I stopped being able to write about my feelings. It was to hard to feel. Now that I could tell the difference between anger, sadness, frustration, love, enjoyment, peaceful, in turmoil, etc...I didn't want to feel the intesity of each emotion. One day, at my bible study, those wonderful woman got to feel all that pent up intensity in one shot. I needed that release, but didn't even know that I did. They knew. And they allowed me to let it all out. To let it all go. To open the door to moving forward. Thank you so much Kristie, Leehsa, Katy, Amy, Michelle. And thank you to God. I didn't know what I was missing, until I could feel it. Gods love. Sterlings love. Achored by Hope. http://anchoredbyhope.com/

Last month was all about me. Me finding out what I needed to do to move forward. To let go of my fears of what moving forward means. To really consider what moving forward means for me. To understand that moving forward does not always mean to let go. I wrote a letter to Baby Sterling and that was the only way that I finally was able to come to terms with what I was holding on to and what I needed to say/do/feel to honor him. I would like to share that letter. On this date, the 6 month anniversary of being born to heaven.

My Dearest Baby Boy,


I have written about you. I have written for you. I have written poetry because of you. But today, I write to you for the first time. My dear baby Sterling, you are so greatly missed. I know that you hear my prayers, I know that you can feel my love, yet I fear that I am holding in that which I owe to you. It breaks my heart to live with the fact that when you were born I could not bring myself to cradle you in my arms, to dress you, to feel your skin upon mine, to kiss your sweet lips. I was so afraid. I was afraid of facing the reality. From the first moment that I had the choice to see you, to hold you, to show you how much I cared, I didn’t. Throughout our bible study, which I believe you have been watching and guiding me through along with our Lord, I have been unable to face the guilt that I have felt for making those choices in those moments. There is nothing that I can do, other than to ask for forgiveness and ask the Lord to take the guilt and the pain away, and to tell you all the things that I need you to know so that I may let you go peacefully…for I seem to be holding on more than anything..to that which I DID NOT DO.

I am in a constant search for direction. Even though I am moving forward I am not leaving you behind. When I share my fears with your daddy, he tearfully says to me, “Sterling is where he belongs. With us. I am not ready to give his remains back to the earth, the sky or even the universe. I need him with us”. I understand that, yet I find strength in knowing that I have fully given you to our Lord. I trust in Him, I know that you are in a place safer than we could ever provide. I protected you for 8 months, and we will protect your honor, your memories, your existence, for the rest of our lives.

I met with a pastor this past week. I shared with him how I feel unworthy to be your mom. How I feel like I am paralyzed by my inactions. He clearly said that it is in Gods grace that I was able to do what I did, that I am able to do what I can now, and that will enable me to do what is ahead of me, as I follow His will. Faith is Trust. Trust in that God will always be there for me. That God has and will always be there for you and for our family. Worthiness is not a factor.

This is your gift to me, my dear boy. I have always known what I “need to work on”, but have never had the courage to truly face my fears and accept me for me. You have opened the door for me that I have held closed with lock and key for so very long. You have shown me not what I am not, but what I have the capacity to be. I have so much love for you, my son. I promise to release that love to you, and not only keep you close to my heart, but to let our love, a mothers love, free myself from the past. To allow myself to look forward. To have faith. To have hope. To have joy.

How do I stop writing this letter? I want to keep this going on and on and on….its amazing how something so hard to start, can be so hard to stop. I love you Sterling. Always.

Mom

Threads of Hope

This month has been a tricky one so far. I'm crusing along, happy that 2010 is finally here. Focusing on what is going on around me, rather than what is going on inside of me. Losing weight. Good. Following my new work schedule. Check. Exercising and Dieting. Confirmed. These are the things that help keep me focused on the "outward". Those, movies, and figure skating. Huge distraction this month with the National Championships and all. I also find though that I am finding comfort in getting back to the "normalness" of my days. SO much so, that I can ALMOST fully enjoy what I am experiencing rather than dwelling on what I am missing. I don't find myself going through the motions as much anymore. My face isn't covered with quite as thick of a veil right now. I am living, I am breathing, I am greiving. Even though every day isn't filled with dispair.

One might think that is a sign of healing. Of clearer perspective. Of a more positive outlook. That "one" was me. Until I am given a sign that I musn't forget about the me that is inside. The me that still cries silent tears. The me that continues to feel unsettled. The me that is. Me. I have homework to do. I have resources in place to gently allow me to grieve and heal at the same time. I just don't have the teacher who gives me the grade in a circle at the top of my blog to acknowledge my effort or progress. Nor should I. I do have faith, even if I don't have hope. I know where to find messages of hope, even if I can't quite open the pages. What is holding me back? What am I holding on to? Why does hope have to mean letting go? Or doesn't it? Maybe that is where I have it wrong. Maybe that is why it's so hard for me to let go..because the hope is missing. Or is it the other way around..it's so hard for me to be hopeful, because I haven't let go.

I am currently participating in a bible study. Funny how part of the name of the study is "Threads of Hope". I like the idea of "threads". I like the idea that it is the threads of hope that holds all the "other pieces" together.  I like the idea of God weaving the pieces of my life together to create a very specific quilt. Without Him, my quilt would just be the "idea". I need to get over the idea and get on with the doing and praying and yes...the letting go. Whatever form that may take.

Still Sleeping

Feeling baby kisses, knowing a sweet surprise
Hearing baby laughter, alongside with tearful cries
The sights and sounds of motherhood are surrounding me this year
If only I had some will and hope, instead of anxiety and fear

For unto us a child was born--a child that warms my heart
But now he is gone, and my reserve is weak
My days are long, and my nights are bleak

Strong women around me whose angels are in heaven have the courage to fill this
space
that occupies my arms, my thoughts, my home, my life, my dreams,
your place

Seeing angel mommies blessed with children again leaves me helpless, leaves me sad,
as I can not pretend that-- the time is right, the time is now--to conceive would feel untrue
Tell me, how can I say hello to another when I haven't yet said farewell to you

Time is but a measure between where we were, where we are
and where we're going to
But time is painful, time is real, time is whats left when we are through
going on with the motions of the pieces of life that mine has now become
A mother missing her baby boy, whom longs for her sleeping son.

Missing you baby boy,
Mommy

Merry Christmas From Heaven

Christmas Ornament that I chose in honor of our Son Sterling.

Engraved on the front:

I love you all dearly

Now don't shed a tear

I'm spending my Christmas

With Jesus this year.

Engraved on the reverse:

Our Angel

Sterling Aether Schutte

8/21/09

Update..on our weekly "Sunday morning walk", August and I heard the bells ringing from the neighborhood church again. This time we were out walking an hour earilier, so I was sure that we wouldn't hear them. Yet we did. And what tune was gently ringing in the distance? "What Child is This". As August and I picked up our pace to walk to the church to hear and see the bells, I again felt as if Sterling was calling to us...this time I am sure he was saying "Merry Christmas to you mommy. And to my brother too! I'm playing this special song this day, to bring comfort and love to you!". We love you, Sterling. Thank you for such a wonderful gift.

What Child Is This?

My favorite Christmas Carol. Actualy, this piece of hauntingly beautiful music, also referred to as "Greensleeves" has been my year round favorite since I was a youngster and I envisioned scenes of "Mommy Kissing Santa Claus".  Boy did I have a lot of expectations! As my mind drifts off this early Christmas morn, it is not Santa that lingers in my imagination, but my Sweet Sterling. Completely awake at 1:30am, I find myself researching the history behind the creation of the tune for "What Child is This". Along the way of my inquest for further knowledge I realize that I am really searching for more meaning. Not for baby Jesus' story, but for Sterlings story. Then I came across this:


God’s sign is simplicity. God’s sign is the baby. God’s sign is that he makes himself small for us. He does not come with power and outward splendor. He comes as a baby – defenseless and in need of our help . . . He asks for our love, so he makes himself a child. He wants nothing other from us than our love. . . God made himself small so that we could understand him, welcome him and love him.


What child is this, who, laid to rest

On Mary's lap, is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?

Not that I liken myself to the Virgin Mary. But I am a mother. My baby was born sleeping. He was blessed to be carried on the wings of Angels while his shepards, his father and I watched helplessly, as his life, his purpose, was given new meaning. So was mine.

Christopher, my love, my dream, continues to support me as I try and find that which gives me comfort and that which keeps me grounded. This holiday, by default, we ended up making Gingerbread Dinosaur Cookies with our son, August. Christmas cookies have always been a comfort for my tummy and for my heart. Specifically, the recipe given to me by my foster mom. We decided to combine the new recipe for gingerbread with the lovingly familiar frosting from Grandma Helens original sugar cookie recipe. And I realized something. Its the frosting that brings back the memories of years past. Its the lingering sweetness of the powdered sugar with the Almond extract that is the first and last taste and biggest impact. The cookie dough could be a combination of many different ingredients, yet the frosting is what smooths it all out and fullfills my cravings. As I sit here, eating what must be my ___th cookie of the early morning, I create the significance of this in my minds eye. The reality and beauty of something new and exciting, with the comfort and familiarity of the known and loved. This morning, I think of Sterling and how he has given me such a new outlook. His being has made me a better me. The ingredients of my life could be a combination of a million different varities, but the frosting...my sweet, sweet frosting...will always give me comfort. Will always give me peace. Thank you Sterling. Merry Christmas to my Christmas Angel, my wonderous darling, my forever child.

Take A Break

Words of wisdom from a 3 1/2 year old. "Do I need to Take a Break, mommy? My honest reply "Yes, August. When you get so upset because you can't figure something out, then take a break and try again after". I'm so lucky to have him. Often times I use August as a bouncing board to listen to my own advice. Does that mean I am functioning at the level of an almost 4 year old? Yes. The answer is Yes.

Delayed "emotional processing" seems to be the theme this week. Sometimes I need to take a break and get OUTSIDE of my head in order to sort out what feels like is trapped inside. My thoughts are a prisoner of my own brain. I do have emotions. I do feel. I do think. Too much at times. Chaos. Disabled. Delayed. Human.

I am only human. I have fear. I have anxiety and I also need to allow myself to "take a break". 4 months ago, I would have never imagined that our life would have led us to where I am today. I am afraid to give myself a break. I don't want a break. I want my baby. I wanted to experience the gift of Sterlings labor. I loved the excitement of timing contractions, and feeling my body prepare for the miracle of birth. I am so angry that what was once a beautiful and pure experience is now tainted with death. A mother should never have that taken from her. A mother should never have to dread giving birth, not for fear of pain or complications, but from the reality of giving birth and not giving life all in the same moment.

I wish I could take my own advice. I wish it was that simple. But it's not. I can't figure it all out. But I can try again. And before I can try again, I need to work through my anger, my fear, my anxiety and I need to find ways to "take a break". Maybe I should ask August. Maybe I should ask God. Just Maybe.

An Angels Spirit at Christmas

I am tall, magnificent and oh so strong

I will glow for you throughout the night
A comfort that I long to give
As you cry beneath my might

A symbol of love and peace and faith
that Christmas time is near
I fill the emptiness that you feel
with joy though you cannot cheer


I know this time is hard to bear
and with each new moment comes
A new feeling, a breath, and a new thought
about what is missing from

The way this Holiday is supposed to be
I'm the angel who will always be in your heart
I cannot replace, I cannot return
No present will ever start

To give the gift of comfort today
tomorrow, and the month ahead
As a new year dawns, and dreams are had
I'll catch the tears you shed

I am here for you until you say goodbye
and put me gently aside
But always know that in your heart
that I will always reside

young at heart and sweet in soul
and here for every wish
Just close your eyes and think of me
and let your sadness lift
give me your fear as well as your love
for I can sort it through
I'm in a heavenly place always
and forever I will love you

I am your angel, your light, your peace
for eternity
I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere
anyplace, anytime you need

Just sing our song, or write a poem

and let your words be free

for I can feel you at all times

for your angel I'll always be

Written by Maria, for her Angel Sterling

at Christmas Time 2009

Appearances

Sometimes I wish that I had a stamp on my forhead that says "image may not be what it appears". I could go for days without looking in a mirror. The only reason that I do now is to 1) Make sure that what I am wearing doesn't look like Maternity Clothes,  2) Make sure that I don't have toothpaste on my face, and 3) Make sure that my hair is somewhat presentable--if I'm leaving the house. Thats it. When I look at myself, I don't see a mother who has lost a child. I don't have to look at me to know that. I feel it. Every day.

How do I appear to others? Can they feel my misery? Can they look into my empty gaze and see what I am trying to process? Of course not. That's where communication is so important. Funny that I am a communication specialist, yet lately, I have not been so great at it. I also have an invisible injury that goes beyond physicality. My heart is broken. My spirit is broken. My words are broken too.

My reflection is painted by the actions and reactions to me. Suddelty doesn't work. Innuendo's aren't effective. Sometimes, as strange as it may seem, direct comments are mis-interpreted. Its not that I don't care. It's that my capacity to respond seems restricted. It's like I'm constantly moving through water. Water distorts images. Things seem much smoother, much softer, much calmer when submurged. But how long can I hold my breath? I have to come up for air and face the reality. But the resistance is strong. The levels are deep. I must keep on going. The water keeps me moving. And when I need to...I can just float. Or use a noodle.

Seeing other mothers who look and feel like me is therapuetic. It sounds selfish that I need to be around others who are going through what I am in order to give myself permission to "get out my ugly".  I don't want everyone to know that I STILL am STILL. But I am. I am still greiving. I am still figuring it all out. But most of all, I AM STILL MARIA.

Who Am I?

Everytime I sit down to write a new entry, I have to stop myself from starting out with writing a "why" question. The "why" changes nothing, alleviates nada, and sends me into a cycle of questioning that blurs my vision and hurts my heart. "Who" is what this blog is all about. Most of you reading this know "who" I am. Some of you know me even better than I do. Some of you are just learning about me, and the one thing that I know you all have in common is that You Care Who I Am.

The process of self discovery is not an easy one. I have to care enough about me in order to fully care for others. As a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a grand-daughter, a collegue, a friend, a boss (I hate that label), a giver, a lover. We are who we are, but we are always changing. Are we really? Or is it our circumstances that change that require a direct action  or new role/responsibility from us that may be, well dare I say, unexpected?  This then results in us doing, saying, thinking differently, but our "being" is what it is. Until your world is turned upside down. Then the search starts all over again and it's more important then ever that You Care Who I Am, so that I can use you to find my way back to me.

I am my own worst judge. In everything. That is consistent, that never changes. Since the loss of Sterling, that has become the #1 factor affecting my ability to make decisions, communicate, plan, live. Now I am realizing that I need to balance out this part of my energy tree. My tree is growing crooked away from the sunlight, and I am trying to bring it back into alignment. Have you ever tried to straighten out a crooked tree?

My story of who I am changed when I met my husband. He allowed me to "get all my crazies out" and stood by my side the whole time. I knew that I had to take care of me to be available for him. That took a while, and once I did it, we were ready to take our relationship to the next level. Business, Marriage, House, Business Expansion, Child, Bigger House, Another Child. In that order. All was going according to plan until we got to the Bigger House part. Again, circumstances dictating actions. So we changed the plan. We decided to bring another child into our hearts and our home. Our current one, not the Bigger One. It wouldn't be perfect, but we certaintly could make it work. There was nothing holding us back. We were excited. Giving of our lives to create life. Life. Lives.

I seem to be blessed with the whole conception thing. First month trying for both of our children...mission accomplished. Yes, I will give my husband credit too. He is part of the process. When pregnant with Sterling I wish I could say that it was easy and wonderful and that I was the glowing mommy-to-be. I wasn't. I was tired all the time, drained from all energy, not motivated, and filled with unfounded fear. Kind of.

We thought we were going to lose him. I was 6 weeks pregnant and I woke up in the morning barely able to move my legs out of the fetal position. My whole mid-section had cramped up and I was so scared. We went to the ER. We were told that I was probably miscarrying and that the ultrasound showed that the results should have been "farther developed" than what the ER Dr. saw. They told us to just wait. I spent a lot of time waiting rather than doing throughout the pregnancy. Waiting for our baby to be born. He was born. Born Sleeping.

But not for another 30 weeks. I didn't miscarry. I had a gastro-intenstinal issue that resolved itself with a few medical interventions and I was discharged from the hospital the next day. Our baby was developing. We were fine. But now the fear wasn't unfounded. Now it was real. Eventhough I was OK, I wasn't. I never felt comfortable, never felt at ease, never wanted to admit that. My judge coming out in full force. I already was being a bad mom, feeling guilty and depressed. Why? Whoops..remember...I'm not supposed to ask that.

At 16 weeks I got got rear-ended on the freeway going about 10 mph. By a mini-cooper. Don't laugh...it totaled my family size sedan! The fear swelled up immediately and like a tornado sweeping through a valley, I was convinced again that something terrible had happened to our baby. Off to the Dr's we went. Everythings fine. We heard the heartbeat. We saw him moving around just like nothing happened. We found out that "he" was a "he". The womb is a very safe home...the only home on earth our baby will ever know.

The next 16 weeks went on relatively unremarkably. Until the day that my story ended and Sterlings Story took over. But the judge really has come out now. It's so hard to keep in check. I don't even know how. I am trying. Writing this blog, regardless of what others think, is one way that I am defeating that judge. It doesn't matter who reads it or what they think, its mine. Its what I need to do. For me. For Sterling. No. For me.