Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Survivor



 
My Mom is a survivor, 
Or so I've heard it said. 
But I can hear her crying at night 
When all others are in bed. 
I watch her lay awake at night 
And go to hold her hand. 
She doesn't know I'm with her to help her understand.
But like the sands on the beach
That never was away... 
I watch over my surviving mom, 
Who thinks of me each day. 
She wears a smile for others... 
A smile of disguise! 
But through Heaven's door I see 
Tears flowing from her eyes. 
My mom tries to cope with my death 
By keeping my memory alive.
But anyone who knows her knows 
It is her way to survive. 
As I watch over my surviving mom 
Through Heaven's open door...
I try to tell her that angels protect me forever more. 
I know that doesn't help her... 
Or ease the burden she bears. 
So if you get a chance, go visit her... 
And show her that you care. 
For no matter what she says... 
No matter what she feels. 
My surviving mom has a broken heart 
That time 
WON'T EVER HEAL.
 
Found this poem on Facebook today. 

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Madison

Butterfly Kisses aren't just for blankets.





How about a sweet, tiny baby gown?



My heart always aches when the feetprint are so tiny.  

Smaller than my finger to my second knuckle.


For the crocheted blanket?  
A hand stitched applique.  Momma can clip it off if she just doesn't like it...no damage!
  I just could not only do the gown!

Friday, December 2, 2011

12 Days of Christmas

I am TERRIBLE!

I have been following, but haven't shared with my own followers!!

Come check out the posts at Small Bird Studios.  
Francesca is hosting a special blog hop that is supposed to keep you busy through the holidays.

I have already spied a few "friends" that I know!

Come and join everyone in finding Hope during this very difficult season for babyloss mommas!


Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Words of Courage

A question asked by a fellow babyloss mom:

"Words of Courage. 
Any come to mind for a particularly cloudy day full of missing her?"


Dear sweet Laura,

I wish I could tell you the perfect answer.  I will just tell you what I do when I have a cloudy day.  


I DON'T FIGHT IT!


I curl up with her quilt.


I sometimes grab her teddy.



See her sitting on the memory box?  Yes, she is a girl!


I sometimes pull out her scrapbook just so I can see her.




I put a sad movie in.  Steel Magnolias if I am feeling like I need to "Go Sally" on someone.   Tinkerbell because that is the Disney character I associate her with.  I would have watched Tinkerbell to the end of time with her.  

Lately,  Rabbit Hole has been working for me.
 



It helps me remember that my husband is grieving too, just in a different way.


But my point in all of this? 
It is that I allow myself to have the cloudy day once in awhile.  

If I try to fight through it...things only get worse for me....


((((((((HUGS))))))))))


Tuesday, November 29, 2011

The Advent Conspiracy



Love this.....

We have donated in family members names when we are just tapped out of ideas.  We also appreciate donations made in our names for anniversaries, birthdays, and holidays.

Working on the time with family thing.  It is difficult when extended family is 1000miles away each way.

But we sure are trying to spend quality time with our beautiful boys!
We know the value of how short time can be.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Editing....

Editing some tiny, tiny prints tonight. 

A little darling Madison. 





Not even an inch and a half from heel to toe.



Can you hear the audible sigh from here?







Sunday, November 13, 2011

The Pit

The ladder I try to use to CLIMB out of the pit!
(In honor of Jamie's due date...)
The day my child died, I fell into the pit of grief. 
My friends watched me struggle through daily life, waiting for the person I once was to arise from the pit, not realizing "she" is gone forever.

The pit is full of darkness, heartache and despair, it paralyzes your thoughts, movements and ability to ration. 
The pit leaves you forever changed, unable to surface the person you once were.

Some of my pre-grief friends gather around the top of the pit, waiting for the old me to appear before their eyes, not understanding what's taking me so long to emerge. 
After all, in their eyes, I've been in the pit for quite sometime. 
Yet in my eyes, it seems as if I fell in only yesterday.

Not all of my pre-grief friends are gathered around the top of the pit. Some are helping me with the climb out of the darkness. They climb side by side with me from time to time, but mostly they climb ahead of me, waiting patiently at each plateau
Even with these friends I sometimes wonder if they are also waiting for the pre-grief me to magically appear before their eyes.

Then there are the casual acquaintances, you know the ones who say, "Hi, how are you?" when they really don't care or really want to know. 
These are the people who sigh in relief, that it is my child who died and not theirs.
You know...the "better them, than me" attitude.

My post-grief friends (and a rare pre-grief friend) are the ones who climb with me, side by side, inch by inch, out of the pit with me. 
 They are able to reassure me when I need reassurance, rest when I need resting, and encourage me to move forward when I don't have the strength. 
They have no expectations, no memories and no recollection of how I "should" be. They want me to get better, to smile more often and find joy in life, but they also accepted the person I've become. 
The "person" who is emerging from the pit
~Author Unknown