tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88760256210763362012024-03-13T11:50:28.386-04:00Moments of PauseThis blog contains thoughts of my son, Andrew Daniel, and my spark Baby E who like butterflies flew away too soon. Read a mom's thoughts on how her stillborn son and lost baby changed her for the better.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.comBlogger193125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-21616773361404699662022-06-04T21:29:00.004-04:002022-06-04T21:29:44.967-04:00Graduation<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgclNM_j_9kCcIp3D2QpHDrbNMHgDARTlSALmLbjGeaMmX-_vkxvPaQnL9nstAVlYUc4w9VGSQT0I6DSW5rphJkqK_wE49mHbu4P6H65JpP0NNJoau3W701p54bhHimtEgzmlHTMSBVQAvo4sD_UCcmRtF3BDBf1_S0JOPFNYY1ih-IVCtUIqc8fuWnsA/s1242/IMG_2207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1094" data-original-width="1242" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgclNM_j_9kCcIp3D2QpHDrbNMHgDARTlSALmLbjGeaMmX-_vkxvPaQnL9nstAVlYUc4w9VGSQT0I6DSW5rphJkqK_wE49mHbu4P6H65JpP0NNJoau3W701p54bhHimtEgzmlHTMSBVQAvo4sD_UCcmRtF3BDBf1_S0JOPFNYY1ih-IVCtUIqc8fuWnsA/s320/IMG_2207.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I made it through the last football game.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The last cross country meet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Senior Honors Night.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The last time he raced on a track.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Prom.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sure, I've thought about you and the what-ifs as I always do. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They flutter in and fly away but today they stayed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They lingered. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And they were crushing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We had a busy day. Housework, grad party, soccer game.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And yet you fluttered in but did not leave.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I tried to do other things to keep my mind occupied but I looked out the window and I wondered.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I sat down and finally just gave in.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I just cried and cried and cried.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I miss you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tomorrow you would be graduating.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">How in the world is that even possible?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There were days I wondered if I would make it though a day and here I am. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here we are.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oh my Andrew. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I miss you so. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I love you and I miss you and I wonder what it would be like in that parallel universe where you stayed. You could have all stayed and we'd be getting ready to cheer on two graduates</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">~ instead of one.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've felt you so much this year. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">From your birthday run~</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">To your brother's college decision~</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You've been right there in the shadows.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But today you were right there in the light and you weren't leaving.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I think I needed a good, long, hard, cry and you gave that to me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So today can be about you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">About all the dreams we had for you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">About our heartache</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">About missing and wondering and wishing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And tomorrow I know you will slide back into the shadows </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">so we can watch your brother shine.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">How incredibly proud we are of him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I said it before and I'll say it again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thank you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There's no doubt you have been here with him. With me. With us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">See you tomorrow and we celebrate with happy tears your little (by a minute) brother!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(And how perfect that a dear friend sent me that picture above. Today.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-46765028158205495292022-02-03T10:33:00.000-05:002022-02-03T10:33:23.196-05:00Dear Andrew<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrXbKOqDi64aW0oUYrFyVeO6EV556H3I3LkQgTGNIRVpU4tNVQkHY2Bq17JWqo1R_G0YtQURRT8eYxYER6jcx9Lyz0emCqV_KPTVQr6Jpa9fXm1jStB59Eq7xWw-48goLUKtQsKS_Jjh_0m7l9a331thj3c7HgGIxhTrxR1I7bI5uy7FFxg6W8tnozEg=s2062" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1546" data-original-width="2062" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrXbKOqDi64aW0oUYrFyVeO6EV556H3I3LkQgTGNIRVpU4tNVQkHY2Bq17JWqo1R_G0YtQURRT8eYxYER6jcx9Lyz0emCqV_KPTVQr6Jpa9fXm1jStB59Eq7xWw-48goLUKtQsKS_Jjh_0m7l9a331thj3c7HgGIxhTrxR1I7bI5uy7FFxg6W8tnozEg=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dear Andrew,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's a snow day today. Our second in a row and for the first time (in the longest time), I haven't worked which is something I didn't realize I needed~ but when I have that moment to pause, I am usually gifted what I need. It's always been like that. Losing you hasn't been "easier" as time has gone by, rather time has gifted me ways to cope and learn to do life without someone who has shaped me so very much.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I was on the treadmill (I run for my headspace) and I was walking a bit after when a song that reminds me of you came on. I looked to the shelf and there was your baby book and a flood of memories just came pouring back. Seeing the words I had written days after losing you, the clothes that you had worn, the cards and words people had sent us (I have a box somewhere else but a select few got into your baby book, I don't know why those were there)... I had forgotten some things- speaking at conferences about your loss, the newspaper article, the words a friend who hadn't spoken to me in years sent (and I haven't heard from her since). It all just made me pause.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You have had such an impact on others- in the beginning I think it was you- just hearing your story but in the years since I have seen you living on in many of the things that we do and even if it's something small I do and I see someone smile I think, "that was because of Andrew" and they are none the wiser. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But I know.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sean just came in and asked me what I was writing and I told him a letter to you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He said to me, "Mom, what do you think it would be like if Andrew hadn't died and was still here?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I told him the truth. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I honestly don't know... But I do know life would be very different.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sean said, "I bet I wouldn't be here." I told him that I was certain one of you wouldn't be but I wasn't convinced it would have been Sean- everything would have been different. Everything.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The thing is, I can't imagine my life with you in it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And I can't imagine my life without you in it (the way you are now).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I am who I am now, because of you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Joe goes off to college next fall. Keep an eye out for him, will you son? I always pictured you both going through this together (maybe not the same direction but the same new chapter- a turning page if you will). This year has brought so much emotion rushing back. You are never forgotten.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I love you. Thanks for the visit.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It felt good to cry for you today.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It felt good to pause.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Love you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Always,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mom</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEKoOAMoFWo" target="_blank">HERE</a> is a video I made as I was leafing through your things to that song I told you about.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-3471365830603919942020-09-15T13:31:00.001-04:002020-09-15T13:31:31.999-04:00Here. Because of you.<p><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnEZxf4X5RBj61t874BYHB_ID-2IIA4sUEReF_MpyDOre7aYTvCFuk4Ffhyphenhyphengmtp-QNx3TVi2q7uYf9I5iCEqergNVBYWO7vTn1JzylZA1aYLORHungqlWixVO-n-O5Mm_8LnQUgV3oUbR/s2048/IMG_3088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnEZxf4X5RBj61t874BYHB_ID-2IIA4sUEReF_MpyDOre7aYTvCFuk4Ffhyphenhyphengmtp-QNx3TVi2q7uYf9I5iCEqergNVBYWO7vTn1JzylZA1aYLORHungqlWixVO-n-O5Mm_8LnQUgV3oUbR/w400-h300/IMG_3088.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dear Andrew~</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's your birthday.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm at your garden.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have your journals where I have been reading of years without you. The ups, and downs, the sideways.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There are days where I can see the remnants of my tears as I poured my heart to you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm at your garden.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I just lit your candles and sang to you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I blew them out for you and made a wish that you're happy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That you feel my love.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That you know that I will always remember.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That I'll never forget.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">17 years. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I had probably gotten the call by now that this was to be the night when I finally got to meet you and Joe. I know what I was wearing- I know where I was sitting- I know it all~</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(and that's saying something for your forgetful mama)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">17 years.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here I am...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tears streaming down my face.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wondering what you might have been.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wondering what you are.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But I can tell you~ to me you are my son.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You are big brother to all of your brothers and sisters.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Twin to Jonasen.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Difference maker.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One thing you are not, is forgotten and it is my goal to make sure you never are forgotten.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I left flowers on someone's car, Because of you!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We did do something different this year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We are actually having a 5k in your memory!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There are many out there Andrew who are wearing a shirt today with YOUR name on it!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">How I love when people say your name.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When they remember you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I can tell you that Because of YOU families who will feel our sorrow will be comforted by a foundation here to help, aide, provide. Families will know that they too aren't alone. Because of you!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I am so incredibly proud of you. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For sending this idea~ </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For floating it in my thoughts~</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For cheering me on when it became a reality.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happiest of birthdays to you sweet boy~ I look to the heavens and I feel you. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I feel you here and I know you're here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And I'm here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Because of you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Love Always,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mom</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">https://runsignup.com/Race/MI/AnyCity/BecauseOfAndrew</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XUbmrrm6sps" width="320" youtube-src-id="XUbmrrm6sps"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-50836990223573841242019-10-23T21:15:00.001-04:002019-10-23T22:08:23.240-04:00I am not OK.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_Y3GsTKV_77eM99E-dIZDBhVHazdIh4WPodYtUWRIMPScgUqq-9i57dA_h4ZGUV9AZdWRfU4pPWB8ypisFwxkLvWLvU6XnsPTXWt6wfriX7ssOJH3cXbwYLlhbMfYsCVEXb4FtV8jrzE/s1600/IMG_5512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_Y3GsTKV_77eM99E-dIZDBhVHazdIh4WPodYtUWRIMPScgUqq-9i57dA_h4ZGUV9AZdWRfU4pPWB8ypisFwxkLvWLvU6XnsPTXWt6wfriX7ssOJH3cXbwYLlhbMfYsCVEXb4FtV8jrzE/s320/IMG_5512.JPG" width="256" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I am not OK.<br />
Warning- this is not a blog about loss~ it actually may mention my living kids and I don't want that to be a trigger for some, but my writing is my therapy. I come here to "throw up" if you will what is making me sick. It began in diaries when I was younger, then letters to my Grandpa Jonasen, my journals of letters to Andrew, and now (sometimes) on this blog.<br />
<br />
I am a busy person. I am blessed to have four healthy, beautiful, amazing children at home. I have a husband who recently got a new job and is back in school to help children with visual impairments. I have A LOT of animals (dog, tortoise, bearded dragon, birds, fish). I run 100 miles a month. I teach second graders (27 of them this year). I regularly have a book (two) that I'm reading on my kindle (or listening to as I walk my dog). I don't want to sound ungrateful or that I don't appreciate what I have. I absolutely do and I thank God for it regularly.<br />
<br />
I feel though like I am in a constant state of motion- I'm on a hamster wheel and I can't get off. Not only can I not get off, parts of me are flying off that wheel and I can't get them back.<br />
<br />
I am not OK.<br />
<br />
Today it fell apart- I fell apart. Quite literally. I fell into the arms of my dad (there to get my youngest son on the bus before work) and I started to cry.<br />
<br />
There was a catalyst to all of this, so let me back-track. Managing where everyone has to be and who has to get them there is tough. I literally have alarms on my phone to pick people up because I HAVE forgotten. My job yesterday was to drive 40 minutes after work to see my oldest son run a XC meet- then take him home immediately so he could take a five minute shower, change into a tux and get back up to school for a band concert.<br />
My husband's job was to pick up our middle son from his musical rehearsal at school and take him right to soccer practice.<br />
We had someone to take our daughter to practice (and told her to work out a ride home) and someone to bring home our middle son (so we could both attend the concert). We had our youngest son miss his practice because... well... no carpool.<br />
(This is the START of my "not OK" typical life.)<br />
<br />
But then it gets worse. I had a missed call from my friend who was bringing my middle son home. I called her back but it went to voicemail and there was no message so I decided it may have been a "butt dial" (that happens to me all the time).<br />
<br />
Plans changed and my daughter (who I'm convinced must like some boy in the band) REALLY wanted to go to the concert so my husband ended up picking her up and was going to come to the concert, sneak in the balcony and catch most of the show.<br />
<br />
While walking into the school (where I get horrible reception anyway), a call from an unknown number came in. I didn't answer it (because I figured they would leave a message). They didn't. But I also get AWFUL reception in the high school.<br />
<br />
Now is where I'm going to try to make that catalyst go a little faster.<br />
<br />
My middle son's practice was cancelled- but we didn't know.<br />
There were some high schoolers there (freshman probably- no drivers) who sometimes practice with my 12 year old's team and so one loaned him a phone to call me (missed call I didn't recognize). The boys ended up practicing themselves and when the older boys got picked up, my son ran (down a main road at dusk) to where our daughter was practicing. My husband and daughter were walking to the car as he ran up. They almost missed him.<br />
<br />
And when that settled in.<br />
What could have happened.<br />
I. Was. Not. OK.<br />
<br />
I blame no one in this- accidents happen. I didn't get the message and the coach felt awful (there was a problem with one of those awful new sports apps- where it wasn't sent to me), my friend assumed I would have gotten the message (why wouldn't I), and I assumed that missed call was a wrong number (why not?).<br />
<br />
But when I saw and digested that, the "what 'could' have happened"- my little not yet 80 lbs 12 year old who probably looks 8 running down the road of a busy street- I felt (and still feel) sick.<br />
<br />
He was sleeping soundly in his bed as I laced up my shoes to hit the treadmill this morning. I ran one mile and just stopped (this by the way is my ONLY me time of the day- my therapy) and I couldn't do it. I couldn't run. I was NOT OK.<br />
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I think that there is this version of me out there that people have painted and I feel badly that it's happened. I am someone who does a lot. I feel badly if I don't volunteer because I work in a job where volunteers save ME. I feel badly when I have to ask others for help. I feel bad when I'm not invited because I'm busy. I feel bad when I say no~ so I often say yes when what I need is to just SIT and breathe.<br />
<br />
So while people think that I have got my shit together, I'm here to shout from the rooftops that I do not!! This incident with my middle son was at the top of the mountain and as it started rolling down it picked up all that other stuff that needs to be done that I am not doing... my microwave is broken, my freezer is broken, my under-mounted sink is starting to drop, there's settling nail pops in my house that are driving me nuts, I need to paint my front hallway, I need to call the stupid company where I ordered a front door in MAY who JUST installed it last week (after countless calls from me) and I was told I would get some compensation from. And I'm just remembering that I haven't yet picked up meds for my son (I called them in... but nope, I forgot to get them too). I need to take my dog to the vet and if my stupid bearded dragon doesn't poop soon I'm going to LOSE MY MIND!! And don't get me started with school- I'm behind. I'm always feeling like I need more time but I know play is soooo important so I give my kids a break because- well everyone needs a break- even me!!<br />
<br />
Ah. The big vomit.<br />
So no. I am not a super-mom-teacher-wife-friend-human.<br />
I am a brilliant actress.<br />
The cat is out of the bag.<br />
<br />
I am not OK.<br />
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And oh- my house is a mess!<br />
And no... someone asked I don't do it all. I am a TERRIBLE cook and gardener (though I've tried).<br />
Ah- the big vomit.<br />
Time to go brush my teeth.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-12992818984849816252019-06-14T23:23:00.000-04:002019-06-15T00:09:36.231-04:00Dear Doctor,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3rCgOY6iAWZ0DTci05E3ntrzDdTtrd5vIzrP_3YaGlBbDHIEJMF99NHtATSqo-5por7KahCS7n5lGcqV86ZsoiJxDgvWMmQzpVB8OOUPHVKWztvjHxVtWH1Ev2KktytYz8VukJRXkFnQl/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-06-14+at+10.42.24+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="758" data-original-width="522" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3rCgOY6iAWZ0DTci05E3ntrzDdTtrd5vIzrP_3YaGlBbDHIEJMF99NHtATSqo-5por7KahCS7n5lGcqV86ZsoiJxDgvWMmQzpVB8OOUPHVKWztvjHxVtWH1Ev2KktytYz8VukJRXkFnQl/s320/Screen+Shot+2019-06-14+at+10.42.24+PM.png" width="220" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">“Science may provide the most useful way to organize empirical, reproducible data, but its power to do so is predicated on its inability to grasp the most central aspects of human life: hope, fear, love, hate, beauty, envy, honor, weakness, striving, suffering, virtue.” </span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">― </span><span class="authorOrTitle" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "lato" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; text-align: left;">Paul Kalanithi, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"></span><span id="quote_book_link_25899336" style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "merriweather" , "georgia" , serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"><a class="authorOrTitle" href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/45424659" style="color: #333333; font-family: Lato, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; text-decoration-line: none;">When Breath Becomes Air</a></span><br />
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Dear Doctor,<br />
<br />
I am certain that you don't remember me. I know you have delivered hundreds of babies (maybe thousands?). I wasn't even one of your patients~ not really. I'm not even a blip in the story of your life but for 16 years now, you've been a bigger part of mine than you realize.<br />
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Sixteen years ago on September 15th, I was a week overdue with twins. I went to the hospital to finally get induced and you were the doctor on call that night. The nurses were having difficulty finding heart tones so you stepped in. You ordered an ultrasound and and the familiar pictures of my children appeared on the screen but one thing was different. That beautiful spark we mothers see that stops our heart- that beat of our children- was gone. I knew what it meant. You moved your wand to the other side of my stomach and the same picture came up. You looked to me and said,<br />
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"I'm sorry but your fetuses are dead." </div>
Yes~ I can put it in quotes because though we've only spoken two times in my life, I will never forget your voice. I will never forget those seven words that you spoke. I remember being a bit more alarmed by the word "fetuses" than by the message you were trying to communicate to me.<br />
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I looked to my husband and mother (my labor coaches) and back to you and I said, "But I feel movement." You put your hand on my left forearm, gently shook it and said, "I'm sorry, that's you breathing." I took your hand from my arm, guided it to the side of my stomach and you felt it too. You ordered the ultrasound tech to my side where he moved his wand and said, "I'm sorry. It appears that one of your babies has died but the other is right here."<br />
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That second fetus you thought was dead is now 16 years old. His brother is not. Yet, there's not a day that goes by that I don't think of that precious boy. For years, I said your name at support group meetings and to all my friends. Angry. Angry that for even a moment you let my family think that BOTH of my sons had died. That you made them think that I was the crazy one.<br />
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I went on to have more children and I WAS the crazy one. My wonderful doctor took my worries seriously. She understood what the loss of my son did to me and she treated my head as much as she treated my body. When it came time to do NSTs (for my head), I would first call the hospital. If you were on-call, I would change my appointment. I knew that seeing you again would break me. I was careful but healing.<br />
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Nearly 6 years later I was pregnant for the last time and while you would think that as I neared my due date I would be a little less scared, my doctor knew better. She knew me. I was as heart sick as I was for my daughter who came just 15 months after my heart broke. However, I thought I was better and for the first time in three subsequent pregnancies, I didn't make the call before my NST to see if you were working.<br />
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After finishing up that NST, the nurse told me that the doctor would be in in a moment to sign off on it. When I asked her which doctor was on call, she said your name. I almost lost my breath but I was stronger. I could do this.<br />
<br />
You walked in, glanced at me for a less than a moment and said hello while looking at my charts. I kept thinking. You don't know me. You have no idea who I am. You asked me why I was getting NSTs and I told you that my first son, was stillborn due to a cord accident. You said, "Well, this one looks fine, there's no need to be here," wished me well quickly and left.<br />
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It happened again. I was dismissed. I was wrong. I SHOULD be there. I was there for a reason and part of that reason was you.<br />
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I walked out of that hospital faster than any pregnant woman probably had and when I hit the door I RAN to my car, shut the door, and cried.<br />
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Again~ I felt dismissed. I had let you do that to me. Again. Why was I so weak?<br />
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I have written to you for years in my head- and sometimes in my journals. At support group meetings, I have heard your name come out of lips that AREN'T mine and I know you have not really changed. You just don't get it~ so maybe it's time I shared this story so that perhaps you will. Perhaps you will pause the next time there is a CHILD who has died. Perhaps you will pause and think of your words knowing that what you speak and the way in which you speak it will be on the hardest day of your patient's life and that they will never be forgotten. Words are powerful~ But so is forgiveness.<br />
<br />
I have read some reviews on you that said you were perfectly lovely and I always thought~ I'm sure he is. If your baby doesn't die.<br />
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I have forgiven you in my head for years now but still it lingers. I thought of you when I recently read this book that I am gifting you. I thought you should read it and then maybe you'd understand, I am not sure, but perhaps this gift can be a gift to your future patients who will share their worst days with you and you can be a source of comfort instead of pain.<br />
<br />
I forgive you.<br />
<br />
That fetus you thought was dead is 16 now. He's absolutely amazing! He's smart, musical, artistic, athletic, funny and kind. I look at him and I imagine his brother. I wonder. I look at him and sometimes think~ Thank you for kicking on that night when I needed you too. Thank you for that gift. Thank you for being my SON just like your BROTHER was.<br />
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Words matter.<br />
<br />
I forgive you.<br />
<br />
LauraLaurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-34825154261525574812018-09-09T22:32:00.002-04:002018-09-09T23:29:21.409-04:00#Because<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvFpn09-x3AnDLhp5ettVh99MBaL6LwZ6qonJHsJgSTvMW3onShdAI_inBf6tIfkpUwY9A1rxZ-B47DDtsdkfwTCko8ma7AqakAMJCy1RzQOI_23Wcz4d8babsHnT0QJFA9F7SRW1VX1Ds/s1600/IMG_8446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1198" data-original-width="1600" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvFpn09-x3AnDLhp5ettVh99MBaL6LwZ6qonJHsJgSTvMW3onShdAI_inBf6tIfkpUwY9A1rxZ-B47DDtsdkfwTCko8ma7AqakAMJCy1RzQOI_23Wcz4d8babsHnT0QJFA9F7SRW1VX1Ds/s400/IMG_8446.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Our fifteen year old is a runner!</div>
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Words can't describe how incredibly proud we are of who he is~ who he is becoming.</div>
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We've been busy living life~ following our kids and yesterday we were following him around at a race. There were about a dozen high school teams from all over. We watched as parents wandered looking to see where they could get a good glimpse of the runner they were there too see.</div>
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It was a beautiful day in the park and my husband and I had joined all those parents, looking for the perfect place to watch OUR runner. We were following a pack of parents when I looked up and the back of the shirt in front of us said, "Joey's Mom" and I thought, I could use a shirt like that!</div>
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Later on we saw another similar shirt only this one said, "Andrew's Mom" and I thought, I could use a shirt like that too.</div>
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How odd that with the hundreds of people who were there we saw two shirts mentioning their sons by name and they happened to be MY boys' names.</div>
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Maybe not odd at all.</div>
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It's September.</div>
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On the fifteenth it will be 15 years!</div>
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I will not be able to start my morning as I have the last 15 years~ at the hospital. I'll be watching my runner and wondering if his brother would have been a runner too. </div>
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Joey and I were talking about his upcoming birthday~ about how we've been trying to get people to do kind acts to help heal my heart on the fifteenth.</div>
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He said, "Mom. I hate that my birthday is your hardest day. I hate that you hurt and that you're sad. It kind of sucks."</div>
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And yes, Joey. It does suck. </div>
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It did suck </div>
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and it will always suck.</div>
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But what you don't understand is there was one thing that made THE worst day of my entire life </div>
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THE BEST day of my entire life.</div>
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YOU!</div>
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My sweet boy, how will I ever tell you that YOU are my reason. YOU were the one that got me out of bed. YOU were the one that began to heal my shattered heart.</div>
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YOU!</div>
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So yes~ I will always wonder. I'll wonder what kind of son Andrew would have been. I'll wonder if he would have been as fast as you, as musical as you, as funny as you. I'll wonder if he'd be as incredibly sweet as you are with your siblings and others. I'll wonder if he'd be quiet and reflective.</div>
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I'll wonder and I'll wonder and I'll wonder.</div>
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But one thing I do know is that though I will wonder, I will KNOW that this world MY world is so much better because of YOU!</div>
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So maybe I was wrong... Maybe having people do kind acts #BecauseOfAndrew should also be #BecauseOfJoey </div>
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because if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be.</div>
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So thank you my sweet boy.</div>
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I love you more than you will EVER know.</div>
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HAPPY Birthday.</div>
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And know that my tears are not all tears of sadness. Just like they were fifteen years ago they are also tears of tremendous joy!</div>
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I love you,</div>
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Mom</div>
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And... May it not be overlooked that today~ September 9th~ TEN YEARS AGO my heart was shattered when my sweet spark's heartbeat was no longer. </div>
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Remembering E and so incredibly thankful for my tribe who remembered. You were there THEN and you continue to be here NOW. </div>
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Ten years later. </div>
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Fifteen years later.</div>
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I'm thankful.</div>
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#BecauseOfYou</div>
Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-30984430799762572592018-03-14T21:38:00.000-04:002018-03-14T21:38:50.467-04:00Close Your Eyes and Imagine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hYJgm-qurIW3T4aI2Zq0uWzAQMJ1fgvRwGyLFxaq7-4B0COkIL9MO7ACJfP4KNkl2G4bAIThB2Uy5rRQU9zIAioYCigCdP7M2ZZs2RW-uR7gR8KgDtH31M6nf4Xxfq5Ua8c6J62xC1U7/s1600/Screen+Shot+2018-03-14+at+9.05.37+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="878" data-original-width="814" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hYJgm-qurIW3T4aI2Zq0uWzAQMJ1fgvRwGyLFxaq7-4B0COkIL9MO7ACJfP4KNkl2G4bAIThB2Uy5rRQU9zIAioYCigCdP7M2ZZs2RW-uR7gR8KgDtH31M6nf4Xxfq5Ua8c6J62xC1U7/s320/Screen+Shot+2018-03-14+at+9.05.37+PM.png" width="296" /></a></div>
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Think of~</div>
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Your daughter.</div>
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Your spouse.</div>
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Your sister.</div>
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Your brother.</div>
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Your best friend.</div>
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Your father.</div>
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Your mother.</div>
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Your son.</div>
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What would you do for them?</div>
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Anything.</div>
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What if what they needed was beyond your reach, but was within the reach of someone else.</div>
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Meet Jackson Pype.</div>
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Jackson has been battling medical issues since he was a baby.</div>
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He's proven to be an amazing fighter but now at age 16, he is in desperate need of your help.</div>
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His parents are in desperate need of your help.</div>
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His brothers.</div>
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His friends.</div>
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His family.</div>
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His community.</div>
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Needs YOU!</div>
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Jackson is in desperate need of a bone marrow transplant and YOU could be the one to save him.</div>
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His match is out there. </div>
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It could be YOU. </div>
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YOU could be the one who saves this amazing young man!</div>
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To "Be the Match" click <a href="https://join.bethematch.org/">HERE</a>.</div>
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It is painless and costs nothing~</div>
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but what it could give is priceless!</div>
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LIFE.</div>
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So please.</div>
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Think of~</div>
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A daughter.</div>
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A spouse.</div>
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A sister.</div>
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A brother.</div>
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A best friend.</div>
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A father.</div>
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A mother.</div>
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A son.</div>
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Jackson.</div>
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Please share this!</div>
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It could save Jackson's life~ and the lives of others!</div>
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I know many of the readers (like I) know the pain of losing a child.</div>
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Think of these parents.</div>
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We don't want anyone else to lose a child.</div>
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Thank you!</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8PRPnoOGSWE" width="480"></iframe>Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-23340880068793052872018-02-05T00:40:00.001-05:002018-02-05T00:45:23.922-05:00This Is Us.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
So here I am firing up my computer because I just got done watching "the" episode.<br />
You know.<br />
This Is Us.<br />
If you're reading this blog there's a good chance you watched that first episode and either turned it off because it was too hard~ or got sucked in for more because well... This is us. People like us.<br />
<br />
I remember someone telling me I MUST check out the show and I'm not a huge TV watcher but I thought, OK. And right away there we are- I am watching my life- my story- unfold on the screen.<br />
<br />
Mom goes in to deliver babies.<br />
One baby doesn't make it.<br />
<br />
This is me.<br />
<br />
Recently my teenage daughter (my rainbow) started watching the show with me. With a snow-day after the Super Bowl (yay), we both got to stay up to see the infamous #Crockpot episode.<br />
<br />
Of course we bawled like babies~ which probably isn't unique to people like us.<br />
<br />
And then came the teaser for next week.<br />
<br />
I saw the doctor and I put my hand to my mouth and started crying.<br />
<br />
My rainbow didn't watch it from the beginning and she looked at me with questioning eyes. I looked at her~ with tears streaming down my face (and I'll admit a few ugly moments where I was catching my breath) and said... "They lost one of their babies. That's how the series started and that doctor knew. He knew just what to say and it brings back so many, many memories of that night with Joe and Andrew." And she cried and understood because just like this is MY story~ it's also her story. It's OUR story.<br />
<br />
I am convinced that this show has a writer that has experienced loss. I wonder if we all (who have lost a child) had a moment with a doctor like that. I remember my doctor calling me and checking in and I remember asking her, "What made you call me to come in that day?" (I was scheduled to be induced two weeks after my due date- not one) and she said to me, "God put you in my head that day." I still think back and can remember those words like they were yesterday. They stuck with me. I was (and am) convinced that Andrew had gotten to heaven and told God, "You've got to get that doctor in so she can save my brother! So she can save my mom!!" and He did it. God put me in her head and got Andrew out when he still looked like a pink sleeping baby and got Joe out~ also wrapped in cord but alive and healthy. My doctor saved him. He saved him. That was MY doctor scene.<br />
<br />
For those of you not familiar with the show, that first episode the doctor said:<br />
<br />
<strong style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px;">"I like to think that one day you'll be an old man like me talkin' a young man's ear off explainin' to him how you took the sourest lemon that life has to offer and turned it into something resembling lemonade. If you can do that, then maybe you will still be taking three babies home from this hospital, just maybe not the way you planned."</strong><br />
<br />
And that spoke to me.<br />
Early on I remember finding it so hard that I couldn't say I had "babies" (plural).<br />
But eventually I did~ just not the way I had planned.<br />
<br />
But those babies have helped me to take the sourest lemon life had to offer and turn it into so much more than anything I could have ever dreamt possible.<br />
<br />
Andrew and E are still so much a part of me. So close to every thought.<br />
I know that isn't everyone's story. But this is our story.<br />
<br />
This. Is. Us.<br />
<br />
*** And a note on that picture~ My beautiful friend snapped it years ago and last November sent it to me again. I was curious at first why she would send me that picture again and then I looked more closely. There were two "new" people in the picture (not new to ME but new to others who didn't always see "us" the way we do).<br />
<br />
THIS is us.<br />
How I see us.<br />
And she even got E's pigtails the way I saw them in my dreams.<br />
<br />
Us.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-35126578768263425732017-09-15T10:18:00.000-04:002017-09-15T10:21:22.075-04:00#BecauseOfThem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's September 15th.</div>
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For a week I've found myself regularly thinking... "At this time 14 years ago.."</div>
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FOURTEEN!</div>
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I am amazed at where I've been.</div>
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How far I've come.</div>
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And I often say it's #BecauseOfAndrew</div>
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And it is~partly.</div>
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It's funny~ September 15th.</div>
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It was the worst day of my life. It was the best day of my life.</div>
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Today I have already been moved by friends who have and are doing acts of kindness #BecauseOfAndrew </div>
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~ But like that day I am reminded of the number 2.</div>
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There were two very extreme emotions that day.</div>
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Two reasons for streaming tears.</div>
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Two amazing little boys that changed me.</div>
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So while I remember the boy who broke my heart,</div>
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Today I also think of the boy who began healing it.</div>
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My reason.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The reason I could find my breath after crying so hard I couldn't breathe.</div>
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The reason I could get up after my knees would buckle when it was too hard to stand.</div>
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The reason I COULD live.</div>
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It was all~ #BecauseOfJonasen</div>
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And so begins another September 15th where </div>
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I will remember.</div>
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I will grieve.</div>
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I will celebrate.</div>
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I will cry.</div>
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I will smile.</div>
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I will try my best to give to others an ounce of what I have been given~</div>
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#BecauseOfThem</div>
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Happy Birthday my Sweet Andrew & Jonasen!</div>
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Love you both more than you know!</div>
<br />Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-43459649181290287002017-05-19T01:13:00.000-04:002017-05-19T01:16:12.149-04:00A Moment of Pause<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Sometimes you just need to write.<br />
Slow the train down.<br />
Even when you're a teacher with less than 20 days left in the school year and a million things on your plate left to do.<br />
<br />
I don't know if it was because I went to our monthly HUGS meeting tonight.<br />
(Healing and Understanding Grief Support)<br />
<br />
I don't know if it's because I learned of another sweet baby who has gone to heaven (unrelated to HUGS).<br />
<br />
I don't know if it's because I shared Andrew's story and in doing that~ and talking~ things just pour out and your mind starts to wander and you just feel like you want to share him.<br />
<br />
So I did there.<br />
And now I'm doing it here.<br />
<br />
A couple weeks ago I was angry with Andrew again. There have been two boys that were picking on his brother. Jonasen of course shrugged it off but I know him. His sensitive heart. His quiet. He wanted to shrug it off but I couldn't. I wanted someone to do something. Andrew should have been there. But he wasn't and it made me angry.<br />
<br />
After this had been going on for some time, I finally told someone at the school what was going on. I got Joe's permission of course and we came up with some solutions... maybe moving seats- working on a schedule without them in his classes for next year. Though I asked that person not to talk to the boys, they did because they said they couldn't just let it go (they have a fondness for our quiet Joe too~ as have most who have gotten to know him). I wanted someone to talk to the boys but I also worried about the repercussions. I know how cruel 13 year olds can be~ and Joe is an easy target. He's comfortable blending~ being invisible~ he still walks with his shoulders bent and eyes down. Being an artist, musician and runner also make him somewhat of a target with the rowdy, athletic, middle school boy.<br />
<br />
When this person spoke to the boys, one of them was in tears. When I heard this I was (not) secretly happy. When Joe was asked if he wanted to know which person was in tears, he told the school person (and later he told me) that he didn't. "Well, I want them to stop but I don't want them to feel bad. I don't want to know that someone else is feeling bad about this. I just wish it would stop."<br />
<br />
And in that moment I learned that my 13 year old is much more kind and full of grace than his dear old mom ever has been or ever will be.<br />
<br />
Wow.<br />
<br />
I thought to myself~ who is like that?? And as I was telling this story at our meeting I felt like my question was answered. That light bulb went on and I knew.<br />
<br />
Jonasen.<br />
<br />
My Grandpa Jonasen~ whose only son was killed in a car accident at age 27. Who was an incredible musician~ A quiet and sensitive soul~ Who (though an incredibly talented jazz musician) told me once he stopped playing in the bars because he worried that someone would come to see him play and perhaps have too much to drink and he didn't want to be the reason for someone else's pain.<br />
<br />
I remember telling THAT story for years and thinking, "Who thinks like that?"<br />
No one.<br />
But my Grandpa Jonasen.<br />
And now my son, Jonasen.<br />
<br />
And as I spoke and uncovered what I was feeling and what I was thinking I had to give the back-story to the group and I'll do that again now here (for anyone who may be curious...).<br />
<br />
<i>When I was pregnant, we had to come up with 8 names~ firsts and middles for 2 boys or 2 girls. Truth be told the boy names were easy to us. Our first born would always be Jonasen. To carry on the name of my Papa and one of my best friends. It was a last name but I didn't care- we could call him Jonah or Jonas or Joey. My husband had chosen the name Andrew. He LOVED the name Andrew and imagined them talking about "Drew" over the speaker at sporting games. It sounded so good with our last name.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>And so when our boys were born~ we had a problem...</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Our firstborn was supposed to be Jonasen.</i><br />
<i>Our firstborn was dead.</i><br />
<i>Jonasen was supposed to carry on the name.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>And so I remember saying to my husband... What do we do? Jonasen is dead. He looked at me, tears streaking his face and said pointing to our second son, "That's Jonasen." Pointing to our first son he said, "That's Andrew." I was heartbroken~ the name he wanted. I pleaded with him... we could name him something else!!!! But even though I said it, I knew his name. "That's Andrew."</i><br />
<i>Those were the last words my husband spoke for a long, long time- Too suffocated with grief- unable to speak anything beyond his boys' names.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
My sweet sensitive soul. My precious, musical Jonasen had a rough go lately and all I kept thinking was~ if ONLY he had someone to stand up to those little punks! If only HE would stand up to those little punks! But that's not how a musical, artistic, old-soul works. That's not how a Jonasen works. They reflect. They ponder. They wait...<br />
<br />
I was angry. Andrew could have stood up for his brother. He WOULD have.<br />
<br />
And that's when I got to thinking... perhaps we never chose their name at all. Perhaps their names chose them. My sweet sensitive soul is meant to be in this world making it a kinder and nicer place. Andrew (who would have kicked those kids' asses... perhaps) was meant to cheer on his brother from another place. Perhaps he moved the pieces in his own way... played the game.<br />
<br />
Perhaps he was the play maker who got to heaven and said, "God. My little brother- he needs to stay. I'm going to take this one for the team. Get him out!" Maybe that's the reason God "put me in her head" that day she called me to be induced just hours after he went to heaven (though none of us were aware at the time). Perhaps he knew (like the doctors did when they were delivered) that HAD we waited that extra week as planned, Jonasen wouldn't have made it either.<br />
<br />
Perhaps he was the play maker who told the person at school. You need to stand up for my brother because I can't do it from here but you can. Make them know. Have his back. Do what needs to be done. And he did.<br />
<br />
Those boys have been quiet.<br />
They've left Jonasen alone without so much as a sideways glance.<br />
<br />
I don't know if any of this is actual truth.<br />
But it's my truth.<br />
<br />
Bullies suck.<br />
But having a twin brother whose got your back (no matter where they are) is a pretty kick-ass thing.<br />
<br />
I'm not mad anymore, Drew. I love you! Your brother is one pretty amazing 13 year old!<br />
And so are you!<br />
<br />
~ MomLaurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-32075482216019979782017-02-21T21:47:00.002-05:002017-02-21T21:47:44.577-05:00Hug<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrlq0z874xNJz5Y-8hhqoV4uLJfGyC-kdEYN5bWRy_FRRtA4fMuFSYcNVMFr8INA6z0jL-teLr1vImLJXNGBxmjqF1p5ezj7buGWgsOY4WpVXhyphenhyphen-37dh98XpytXn3ZSbx23tOfPESDK3q/s1600/File_003%25282%2529.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQrlq0z874xNJz5Y-8hhqoV4uLJfGyC-kdEYN5bWRy_FRRtA4fMuFSYcNVMFr8INA6z0jL-teLr1vImLJXNGBxmjqF1p5ezj7buGWgsOY4WpVXhyphenhyphen-37dh98XpytXn3ZSbx23tOfPESDK3q/s400/File_003%25282%2529.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Joey on the right with my best friend's rainbow.</td></tr>
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It still happens.</div>
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There are still moments when I hold my breath-</div>
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close my eyes-</div>
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and can't believe I've come this far.</div>
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Jonasen is now 13. He's taller than I am and his voice has deepened.</div>
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He's still soft-spoken.</div>
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Reflective.</div>
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Thoughtful.</div>
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He's still a child that seems to find me when I need him~</div>
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Just like his brother.</div>
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I remember that moment when he was not even a year old~</div>
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Andrew's ashes had arrived and when I got them I crumbled.</div>
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Sank to the floor.</div>
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So deep in my grief and cries that I didn't think I could get out~</div>
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But there he was-</div>
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He had heard me- </div>
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Crawled over to me- </div>
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His head on me as I cried.</div>
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I remember gathering him in my arms-</div>
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my lifeline.</div>
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Tonight I was thinking of Andrew as I often do.</div>
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No longer in that deep grief but a quiet wondering.</div>
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I was thinking of him.</div>
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And also of his brother Joe-</div>
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My twins.</div>
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Thinking of how proud I am of Joe and I have to think his brother must be too.</div>
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I was just standing there in the kitchen.</div>
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Thinking.</div>
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Joe came to me (as he sometimes does)</div>
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with that single word, (he sometimes says)</div>
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"Hug."</div>
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And took me in his arms~</div>
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my head now resting on his shoulder.</div>
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There are still moments when I hold my breath-</div>
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Close my eyes-</div>
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and can't believe I've come this far.</div>
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But I have.</div>
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We have.</div>
Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-8987112032008535202016-09-01T01:29:00.000-04:002016-09-01T01:32:34.101-04:00Because of Andrew<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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September.</div>
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I have lived 13 years without Andrew.</div>
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But I have lived 13 years WITH Andrew.</div>
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I've yelled at him.</div>
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I've screamed at him.</div>
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I'm whispered for him.</div>
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I've talked to him.</div>
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I've loved him.</div>
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I've held him here~ just below the skin~ where no one can see </div>
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but I can't forget.</div>
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The odd thing about losing a child is- you don't really lose them- they are there~ always~ </div>
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13 years and I don't talk about Andrew as much as I used to.</div>
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Sure~ he comes up occasionally in our house (more than you'd think).</div>
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I still attend monthly support group meetings.</div>
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I still think of him EVERY day</div>
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though I don't always tell everyone about him (like I used to).</div>
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But today marks the first day of September.</div>
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It's a time I remember him and celebrate him and the friendships he's brought me~</div>
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The COUNTLESS lessons he's taught me.</div>
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I have lived 13 years without him AND with him. </div>
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I am me</div>
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Because of Andrew.</div>
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Because of Andrew, I am kinder.</div>
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Because of Andrew, I am more patient.</div>
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Because of Andrew, I am more forgiving.</div>
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Because of Andrew, I am more empathetic.</div>
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Because of Andrew, I am more loving.</div>
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Because of Andrew, I am more faithful.</div>
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Because of Andrew, I am happy.</div>
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Happy??</div>
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Happy!!</div>
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Because Andrew is part of my story. </div>
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He is my first born son. </div>
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He is the one I find myself talking to in the night. </div>
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The one I have sometimes yelled at, screamed at, whispered to but</div>
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Always</div>
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loved.</div>
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And I always will. </div>
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We are all changed by people who come into our lives.</div>
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Our family. Our teachers. Our friends.</div>
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But what you may not know is you can be changed by someone who never lived.</div>
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Maybe today you can be changed by MY son and HIS story.</div>
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Maybe today you can think about those little blessings in life that we so often take for granted~</div>
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A smile. A compliment. A kind act.</div>
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Pause and think about them because of Andrew.</div>
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When I didn't think I could make it through the day~ those moments where Andrew was right there under every. single. thought~ it was often those little blessings that gave me pause. Allowed me to exhale and get through.</div>
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So today I would like to ask you a favor~</div>
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Because of Andrew.</div>
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On September 15th, his 13th birthday, can you thank those people who did those small acts for me? Those people who changed my day with a small act of kindness.</div>
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Something little that suddenly made me think...</div>
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Maybe today isn't going to be so bad after all~</div>
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Do it Because of Andrew.</div>
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You could bring diapers to a shelter, a toy for a child in the hospital, coffee for a coworker or maybe even a stranger. Leave flowers on someones car. Write a letter to someone you're thinking about. Pick up someone else's tab. Let someone merge into traffic. Smile at as many people as you can!</div>
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Because of Andrew.</div>
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I think Andrew's biggest gift to the world has been how he grew my heart and let me share that love.</div>
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What a gift it would be to him (and to me) to share his gift with someone else.</div>
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Because of Andrew.</div>
Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-89385742192710162542015-10-22T22:45:00.002-04:002015-10-22T22:50:38.275-04:00What I wish I could tell you...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQXN1QZoj2L13SA-TLKHrLu4aNWh0Rx7wixivN4uVKMBKoVE5r0O_ar4D35W3r8AIWeFLEstd6C3drA-f_hUtdbRT51fQLz5NYnF9eEaXfdha25F1sox6t8iF93KSRTzFbRaIEHgOlG5xy/s1600/IMG_2198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQXN1QZoj2L13SA-TLKHrLu4aNWh0Rx7wixivN4uVKMBKoVE5r0O_ar4D35W3r8AIWeFLEstd6C3drA-f_hUtdbRT51fQLz5NYnF9eEaXfdha25F1sox6t8iF93KSRTzFbRaIEHgOlG5xy/s400/IMG_2198.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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My Sweet C,</div>
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I wish I could tell you that I miss your smile. </div>
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That every time I wake up in the morning, I tiptoe by your room and whisper a silent prayer that today will be the day. Today you will see your value and find your strength.</div>
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I wish I could tell you that it hurts me.</div>
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Hearing that you feel sad and that I can't take that away pains me. To see tears roll down your face and hear you apologize for worrying me hurts me because I can't make it better but I would give anything to be able to.</div>
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I wish I could tell you feelings aren't right or wrong, they simply are.</div>
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Please don't ever mask your feelings for me because I want to know. Sharing the weight on your shoulders helps (you AND me).</div>
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I wish I could tell you I know this is BIG.</div>
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Friendships are important. They are important through life and learning that someone is not your friend or is not the person you thought they were is hard at any age. Clarity can hurt but it can also help you see better things ahead.</div>
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I wish I could tell you I'm sorry.</div>
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Searching my brain for words that will somehow help you is exhausting and frustrating because I am failing miserably. I sometimes say things I don't want to and I wish I could take back. To be better is something I'll keep striving for. I feel like I'm failing miserably and I'm sorry for that.</div>
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I wish I could tell you that it will be OK.</div>
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Because I know it will. There have been times when I was 8, 10, 12, 16, 20, 24 and 27 when I thought I would die. I didn't think I'd make it through and somehow I took a breath in... and out... and in... and time gifted me wisdom. I know it will you too.</div>
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I wish I could tell you how beautiful you are.</div>
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I love your kind heart, the way you can weave a beautiful story with your words. I love watching you dance and being able to feel your emotion by just watching you. I love seeing how effortless you make soccer look and noticing you try to suppress a smile when you score. I love your quiet observations and your loud laugh. Everything sweet and flawed about you is perfection to me. It makes you, YOU!</div>
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I wish I could tell you it's important to fail.</div>
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Not scoring well on a test, forgetting a dance step or falling down in front of everyone will not break you. It will grow you. You will be smarter, dance stronger and walk taller than you ever would have imagined.</div>
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I wish I could tell you that failing does hurt.</div>
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But being able to pick yourself up off the floor will help you see the world from a different view and an important one. You will see others through an empathetic lens. A lens I wish the world could look through.</div>
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I wish I could tell you I love you more than you will ever know and that you'd understand.</div>
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I don't know that this will ever be possible but I'll keep telling you anyway.</div>
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I wish I could lead you down every right road and safe path...</div>
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But then I would be doing you a great disservice. For I know that it is in times like these that we truly discover WHO we are and how amazingly strong we are.</div>
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You will get through this and I will be here waiting.</div>
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Oh how I wish I could tell you how I miss your smile. Your laugh. Your care-free ways.</div>
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But I know that life is a complicated place and you're finding your way. </div>
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I wish I could tell you I'm always with you, because I am. Part of me is always in you and part of you is always in me. We are linked forever.</div>
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I won't be able to tell you these things until you're back. Until I see that sparkle again and we can look back on this time, smile through shared tears, and know we made it.</div>
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And then I will brace myself for the next time and pray (like I am now) that you'll come out of it a strong and even more amazing person!</div>
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Life is hard. Life is beautiful.</div>
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Your flawed but trying,</div>
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~Mom</div>
Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-40360387871277007032015-10-04T13:45:00.002-04:002015-10-04T14:07:56.599-04:00It's not easy...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgedHvN7fzVnFgdX50UsXtrB1pjKB6aqYVuV-VihKj49nluq8RkkTjR3e7TS-pHxdoQuMebKatMbwcXexew0hDPbv_8ApqhV4a_07Y1a0iVeaMWJabN2sTrLChdTazipMj-uSNnE-gtzUH_/s1600/12143239_10203795138633764_7542923017576616499_n+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgedHvN7fzVnFgdX50UsXtrB1pjKB6aqYVuV-VihKj49nluq8RkkTjR3e7TS-pHxdoQuMebKatMbwcXexew0hDPbv_8ApqhV4a_07Y1a0iVeaMWJabN2sTrLChdTazipMj-uSNnE-gtzUH_/s400/12143239_10203795138633764_7542923017576616499_n+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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A little warning that this post is about one of my rainbows and if your loss is fresh, please don't read this post. I know after you lose a child the last thing you may want to read is about how someone WITH a child is having a difficult time. I also know though that sometimes we (the Secret Society) give a little leeway when it comes to a Rainbow or a mom who gets loss because she's walked these shoes.</div>
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My first Rainbow has been having a tough time lately. It (what she's going through) has been running through my mind so often that it has been difficult to sleep or focus on other things that need my attention. I've been looking back at my parenting to see what it is <b><i><u>I</u></i></b> could have done to have this happen. Reminds me of when Andrew and E died... how could <b><i><u>I</u></i></b> have done this... What could <b><i><u>I</u></i></b> have done differently.</div>
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My daughter has been suffering from some pretty major anxiety. I'm not quite sure where it has come from or why, but what I am now certain of is that she's going to be OK. I don't know when, but I'm certain of it. I have that hope. I have that truth.</div>
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My daughter loves to write (imagine that) and I feel has been so strong because she's perhaps learned a lesson that takes most of us (me included) a lot longer to figure out. When you ask for help or tell someone what you're going through a little of the weight you're carrying gets shared and the journey become bearable. She has been able to write about her feelings and while I don't like hearing how she feels that she will be "swept away in a hurricane of tears," I am glad that she did share that with me. I have felt that way. None of these feelings is unique to one person... in fact, when you start talking, you realize that we're more the same than we are different.</div>
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Taking her lead of sharing, I have sought out my own weight carriers. The members of the Secret Society who walked with me ~carried me even sometimes~ when I couldn't go it alone. I shared and realized that I am not alone in this... my child is not alone in this... There are many who are sitting alone wondering where. how. when. why.</div>
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I feel like that happened today. I shared our story and my friends shared theirs and somehow this weight we've been carrying just got lighter. My time is now. Her time is now. It's not easy but nothing worth having ever has been. I'm getting up. We're putting one foot in front of the other. We'll get there.</div>
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Together.</div>
Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-8533291192136693002015-09-13T23:44:00.001-04:002015-09-14T00:00:02.862-04:00I Can Only Imagine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHoXIEnY5o1I0frUzTbTXIlcqfnsoeLHULRxLX0WilMUJCmr-NiM6kIO51ISIqnsWqm_f-HPHYXfvVli6SdXpMwQjJQwczpyKYffi9rmSsEGfY7FnElPYJ95xweNntAczOMQ0PoXWqsvV4/s1600/IMG_9181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHoXIEnY5o1I0frUzTbTXIlcqfnsoeLHULRxLX0WilMUJCmr-NiM6kIO51ISIqnsWqm_f-HPHYXfvVli6SdXpMwQjJQwczpyKYffi9rmSsEGfY7FnElPYJ95xweNntAczOMQ0PoXWqsvV4/s400/IMG_9181.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Andrew~</div>
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As we get closer to that day, I can feel it coming.</div>
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That aching, paralyzing pain that comes with the knowledge that you're not here.</div>
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And I wish you were.</div>
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It would have been a big year for you, starting middle school and I can't help but wonder what you would have wanted to do? Band? Sports? Drama? Art?</div>
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A week ago, Joe started middle school. </div>
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The night before he was up in the night because he felt sick. After some talking, he admitted that perhaps it was just a little nerves not knowing what to expect. I wrapped him in my arms (which felt so good) and told him he'd be just fine and I wanted to believe it, but I was so angry with you.</div>
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I was so angry you died. How nice it would have been for him to have someone to go with. Someone who felt his same nerves~ Someone who could reassure him (other than mom) that it was going to be just fine. I tried to imagine how it would have been... How it could have been...</div>
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Eventually he felt better and drifted off to sleep,</div>
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but my mind was all over the place with worry... Could he get his locker open again? Would he find his classes? Would he make friends?</div>
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I felt sick.</div>
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And angry.</div>
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And then I took a moment to pause. A moment to breathe. I always think about you but especially in September. I remember that day when you were born and somehow I knew you were there and I felt that perfect indescribable peace. You and God. It was so real. So right there I still feel like I can reach out and touch it. I did all I could to close my eyes and imagine. To be back there. In that room. Almost 12 years ago.</div>
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Somehow I knew it would be OK.</div>
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And it was.</div>
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I have a feeling you were with him.</div>
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He had an amazing day.</div>
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Thank you my sweet, sweet, boy</div>
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& happy (almost) 12th Birthday.</div>
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I sure miss you more than you will ever, ever know.</div>
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All my love,</div>
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Mom</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/34qEmVgD5KQ" width="560"></iframe>Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-50584633262250644892015-04-24T22:43:00.003-04:002015-04-25T00:02:22.323-04:00The Truth about MY C-Section<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6emD3Uf4CpIBNqAcHImKgFDxjdyWMcehh_UCdfKWICRv9X9IOipfKPHwFKaDckM8xAK5lAQcNAEFw-TuG5mPx9imEIcZThPfrMnHi_34OvXe4WDAzoKASY_OZL_-FNKJg3RMHzXIMp55B/s1600/IMG_4961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6emD3Uf4CpIBNqAcHImKgFDxjdyWMcehh_UCdfKWICRv9X9IOipfKPHwFKaDckM8xAK5lAQcNAEFw-TuG5mPx9imEIcZThPfrMnHi_34OvXe4WDAzoKASY_OZL_-FNKJg3RMHzXIMp55B/s1600/IMG_4961.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit to Andrew's twin</td></tr>
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So there has been this post that I have seen popping up on my facebook page, The <i><a href="http://www.cordmama.com/blog/2015/4/8/three-truths-about-c-section-mamas">3 truths about C-Sections</a></i>. I've been so busy (gosh, I haven't written here since forever) but it got me to thinking.</div>
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And thinking.</div>
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And thinking...</div>
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About mine.</div>
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Well I finally read the post. It was very nice.</div>
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1. C-Section mamas are brave</div>
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2. C-Section mamas are strong</div>
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3. C-Section mamas are beautiful</div>
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Ok. I'm lying right now. I read the three bolded numbered headlines that I listed for you above but I skipped the nice writing in between. I assume it is nice (and promise to go back to read it) but again- those three points got me thinking.</div>
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And thinking...</div>
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And thinking...</div>
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About me.</div>
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1. C-Section mamas are brave.</div>
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Well, my truth be told, I didn't have a choice. I was just going in to be induced when suddenly I was being poked and prodded~ my limbs moving violently (without me commanding them to). I was taken to a room without my husband where I hugged someone I had never met, felt a poke in my back and my entire body went numb. Was I brave really? Did I have some sort of choice?</div>
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2. C-Section mamas are strong.</div>
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Well, my truth be told, I felt very weak. A failure really. Sure I had carried my babies to 39 weeks but I couldn't deliver (excuse the pun). I didn't get the opportunity to even feel what a contraction was and whenever I say that part of my story I hear, "Oh, you're not missing anything, trust me!" I really <i><b>hate</b></i> that. Because I DID/do feel like I missed something. I didn't feel strong. I felt like my body had failed me. That I certainly had failed my boys. And when they told me to get out of bed that first time after surgery, I really thought I would die. Maybe 20 steps is all I took but I felt each and every one of them was going to be my last. Was I strong really? </div>
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3. C-Section mamas are beautiful.</div>
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Beautiful is not a word I would have used to describe myself after having had my first c-section, though I certainly wouldn't have known it because I don't recall really looking in a mirror much and when I did, I didn't know who was looking back at me. She was someone new and foreign and I wasn't sure if I was going to like her much. I was VERY angry with her. She killed my son. She should have known better.</div>
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She failed! Beautiful??? Hardly...</div>
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Sigh.</div>
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But now I'm a dozen years out (almost anyway- wow)</div>
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And maybe I can see it the author's way...</div>
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These things take time, but time I have had~</div>
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1. C-Sections mamas are brave.</div>
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When I went into that hospital to deliver two babies, they/he told me they had both died. I am not someone to question a doctor or any authority (ok~ so I don't like to rock boats), but I did. I questioned that (a-hem) man and because of it, he found out that one of my babies WAS alive. Had I not been brave enough to tell him, would I have labored? Would my Jonasen had died during delivery because like his brother, he too was wrapped up in cord? MY doctor had said herself had we gone that extra week he wouldn't have been here.</div>
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Hell yes, I was brave!</div>
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2. C-Section mamas are strong.</div>
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Those 20 steps? I made them. And I took many, many more in new shoes. Shoes I HATED that I had to wear! Shoes that took me to places I didn't know existed- other people's places and stories and sorrow. I still walk those shoes to meet new people each month. To learn of their strength. To let them know that while they may not feel it yet, they are strong~ I'm comfortable now in my new shoes.</div>
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Hell yes, I am strong!</div>
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3. C-Section mamas are beautiful.</div>
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I've looked in that mirror so much since that first September when I was born (the new me).</div>
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I went from hating the woman who killed my son, to thanking her. </div>
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Thanking her for being so damn brave~ being the strongest person I know. </div>
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And yes... maybe even beautiful... scar and all!</div>
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As usual with this blog, I turn on my computer, sip some wine and never know where my therapy writing will take me. I think that for me, my c-sections weren't JUST a way of delivering new babies, they were a way of delivering a new me.</div>
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Brave. Strong. Beautiful</div>
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And now I'm off to go and read that article!</div>
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Hugs,</div>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-5803804319800155602014-12-23T23:11:00.000-05:002014-12-23T23:37:15.405-05:00Changing Christmases<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Christmastime.</div>
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Such fond memories always. </div>
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My birthday is Christmas Eve and I remember each year on my birthday we would travel down to my Polish relatives in a suburb of Detroit. We'd sing on the way and admire all of the lights. We'd celebrate my birthday with my small (but huge-hearted) family. My brother, cousin and I would "tap-dance" on my Uncle Joe's linoleum bedroom floor and run throughout the small upstairs apartment that overlooked the world. </div>
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I'd get (what felt like) mountains of birthday presents (perhaps compensating because I had a birthday where all the other children would too be showered with gifts). Auntie would roll dollar bills for each birthday I had~ when I turned ten she didn't cheat by giving me a ten. She rolled up ten brand new crisp dollar bills.</div>
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They'd sing Sto Lat to me and we'd cut into a flowered cake from the bakery and then it would be "Christmas."</div>
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There's something about childhood Christmases. </div>
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They are so wrapped up in magic and warmth and family.</div>
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At least mine always were.</div>
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But so many years have passed since my early Christmas celebrations.</div>
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New traditions have started.</div>
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Christmases change.</div>
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Most of the regular faces we saw each year are gone.</div>
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Heaven.</div>
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My Busia, My Great Uncle Joe, Great Auntie, Grandpa Jonasen~</div>
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But my Nana is still here.</div>
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What a survivor she has been!</div>
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Lived through the Great-Depression, her son's death in a car accident, the death of her first Great-Grandson and the death of her true love.</div>
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She doesn't know it, but I've watched her for so long. Admired everything about her! Her beautiful grace but mostly her ready smile and amazing laugh. Where most people my age are starting to see lines in the mirror and cringe, I remember from a young age smiling on purpose to get those lines like my Nana had... They showed she was happy. She laughed. They showed she walked with a big heart.</div>
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My Nan has dementia. Anyone who knows someone with that knows that it can be incredibly annoying, and sad, and at times... scary. Through that, she has kept that sense of humor, often telling us with a laugh, "I have a great memory... It's just short!"</div>
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Although her dementia at times has left me in tears like it did when I made <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGyMgxAlcAk">THIS</a> video, it seems the next day that smile is back and I find myself whispering 'thank you's' to heaven.</div>
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It's not her dementia that is changing this Christmas. It's her heart.</div>
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The big, beautiful heart.</div>
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My Nana has always been in amazing shape- though she's had heart problems before. We first figured this out when she was complaining of air quality on her walks and switching parks (I think she was in her 80s). A doctor's apt & major emergency surgery later... it was her heart.</div>
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Because of the marvels of modern medicine, that ticker of hers did not slow her down! She continued to walk and, for many years, even crawled on the floor with her Great-Grandchildren. We even shot nine holes of golf on her 90th birthday!</div>
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But 'running' down to the lake one day she landed awkwardly on a step and broke her hip- And while just a bone, something else seemed to break- though we didn't know it then. I feel like since that day, I've watched that strong, amazing woman change. Weaken.</div>
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But her heart was always so big. So strong.</div>
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Tonight she is spending her 8th consecutive night in the hospital.</div>
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It's her heart again.</div>
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She's sleeping a lot but has woken up to crack the occasional joke- and even answered my mom's cell phone when she was out of the room (I didn't know my Nan knew how to answer a cell phone- we both had a good laugh about that). But the last two days she's been really tired. Sleeping a lot. </div>
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Her big heart is working too hard. </div>
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It's my birthday tomorrow &</div>
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I just want her home.</div>
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Isn't that what we all want.</div>
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Those we love- those we miss-</div>
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Home.</div>
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As I sit here with my own heavy heart, I think of other friends who have lost children, parents, friends this year. Friends for whom, Christmas won't be like those Christmases past. Friends who would give anything to have them Home. </div>
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Morgan.</div>
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Mark.</div>
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Connie.</div>
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Barb's Dad.</div>
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Nick.</div>
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Thinking of you all this Christmas season and saying a little prayer. I know your Christmas is Changing. I pray that you find peace in it. That you find comfort that although they are not with you... perhaps they are~</div>
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Home.</div>
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(((hugs)))</div>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-67783350233140779202014-09-28T16:20:00.002-04:002014-09-28T16:29:01.989-04:00An Unusual Peace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You may think that this post is about Andrew's recent birthday (ELEVEN!!), but it's not.</div>
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I chose to only write about that day in his journal- not here.</div>
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This post is about something that happened just last week- and when I heard the words "Unusual Peace" at church today, I couldn't help but be taken back to that moment. I realized it was time. To take a moment, pause and exhale (through my words).</div>
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You see, I am not someone without worry. In fact- I DO worry! I worry about things like money (although I don't really need to), my children's happiness, political changes that affect my job~</div>
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But when it comes to those <b><u>serious</u></b> things you think I SHOULD worry about~ I don't.</div>
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I have had an "Unusual Peace."</div>
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And I've had it twice now.</div>
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The first (obviously), I've mentioned many times before on here. The night I became a mother. The room was quiet. I knew he was gone and yet I had the strangest feeling of peace. That everything was going to be OK. I don't understand it now, I didn't really think about it then. But that's what it was.</div>
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An Unusual Peace.</div>
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So on to that second time~</div>
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Ironically, it started back on September 15th~ the eleventh birthday of my boys. As I do every year, I went to my OB and then I went for my first mammogram~ a baseline. It was no big deal and after I spent the afternoon in the garden, talking to Andrew, lighting his candles and watching his balloons soar as tears streamed down my face. But there was a peace. An understanding. When I look back at the entry in my journal, I wrote about the word "stay." I had heard it so many times on the radio that morning and it stuck with me. I had so wished him to stay but that afternoon I felt he had, he never really left me~ not really. An Unusual Peace.</div>
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But those moments surrounding Andrew have happened before. None like that first September 15th, but they have happened.</div>
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And then~</div>
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I got a call later in the week that I needed to come back for a second mammogram. While they told me the first time that they had gotten 'good' pictures and that I'd probably see them next year, they asked me to come back. I figured once they REALLY looked at the pictures perhaps they realized that something was blurry (or something). I have no history of breast cancer and I was checked a few years ago for something that turned out to be an inflamed milk duct. </div>
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When I went back, it was clear to me that their call was not about blurry pictures...</div>
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This time there were more pictures than my first time and when I was done (and the 'good' pictures were taken), instead of having me get dressed again, I was asked to sit back in the back waiting room in my gown. I watched as three other women who came after me, got dressed and left. I thumbed through magazines trying not to think about it~ but I was.</div>
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Another lady then came to get me and said they needed to do some ultrasounds.</div>
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I was right. This was certainly more than a 'blurry' picture.</div>
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I walked calmly to the dimmed room and watched the screen of blacks and grays emerge as she did my ultrasound. This was so different from ultrasounds I have had before- no blinking heartbeat or outline of a baby~ just an ocean of grey blotches- </div>
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At one point, she zoomed in and clicked a button on her machine that brought up a rectangle around a certain area. The screen lit up in color around where she had zoomed in and I piped up, "Is that showing blood flow? I seem to remember that from the ultrasounds I had when I was pregnant." She let me know it was and that that was good. What she was looking at was a lymph node because the blood was present. I exhaled a bit and thought about that enlarged milk duct. How my breasts were amazing! They had fed four of my kids after all- kept them alive.</div>
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She did a similar thing to my left breast. I heard the click of the button but unlike the first time, the color was not present. I didn't really know what this meant. I had this feeling that this ultrasound was bad news, but I couldn't be sure. There was no denying the bad news when I saw Andrew or E- their chests silent~ but this... I didn't know what it was but I assumed it was bad. </div>
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She gave me some towels to wipe the gel and told me to lay back and take a little nap. She'd be back as soon as she spoke with the doctor. When I asked her if she would tell me if it was bad news, she said they absolutely would.</div>
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I watched her leave the room as I laid my head back on the table and let my eyes close. I tried to process everything that had just happened and what I felt was probably happening. They had found something.</div>
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Where I normally should have been crying or worried or scared~ I wasn't.</div>
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It had found me.</div>
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That Unusual Peace.</div>
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I remember lying in that same hospital. Staring at a ceiling and feeling it.</div>
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Laura, you're going to be OK. I got this.</div>
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I thought about Jeff, and the kids and that began to worry me, but then I heard it again. I felt it again.</div>
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That Unusual Peace.</div>
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I was quite calm as I thought about how I would tell my husband, my parents, my children.</div>
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I thought about who I would try to get to sub for me if I was too sick to teach.</div>
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I thought about what a strong lesson it would be for others.</div>
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Me~ I've already learned this lesson.</div>
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I talked to God.</div>
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I would think about my husband~ the kids~ and I still went back to that feeling. This was going to be OK. Bad things can have the happiest of endings. Andrew taught me that. These horrific things can grow you and change you and open your eyes to the most incredible of blessings.</div>
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I got this.</div>
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I sat and listened to the ticking of the clock and with each beat I felt it. Peace. I willed it to grow. </div>
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And it did.</div>
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The door opened and the ultrasound tech who had examined me said I was all set and could go.</div>
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She said she'd see me next year.</div>
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That was it?</div>
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That was it.</div>
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And then I worried. Something had to be wrong. They didn't call me back for more pictures and THEN ultrasound me if they didn't see something! But, I thanked her, wrapped my arms around me and headed back to get dressed.</div>
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So much like that night- the peace- and then the worry that following. The wonderings.</div>
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I plan to call my doctor and ask more about the results. What prompted more testing? Why had they ultimately decided to just let me go? SHOULD I be worried?</div>
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I try to go back there~ to find it~ that Unusual Peace, but it's gone again.</div>
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I know it will find me. It always does in those moments and places where and when I need it most.</div>
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And should you need it,</div>
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I pray it finds you too.</div>
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That it will let you know~</div>
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You got this.</div>
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Don't be afraid.</div>
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That Unusual Peace is there for the taking and I can tell you without a doubt.</div>
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There is nothing better.</div>
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I went back to Andrew's journal. The one word I kept hearing.</div>
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Stay.</div>
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He never left.</div>
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Unusual Peace.</div>
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Hugs~</div>
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L</div>
<br />Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-28102607632236256892014-09-08T23:20:00.003-04:002014-09-08T23:27:07.193-04:00Top Ten Things You Should Know<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZr0_R-1ui91fAD4pyHYSMws7ZVcQBfJhgEI3UcIevt0bWKdxlip0wW-VT5oDUUVzRv81jPAfooEWFzDrspK8UyB9V0dHYKS3uAVcheJnsZT6jDr7RWkNxGUNeSIJtZaUF6XTH64NcF_8i/s1600/IMG_7010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZr0_R-1ui91fAD4pyHYSMws7ZVcQBfJhgEI3UcIevt0bWKdxlip0wW-VT5oDUUVzRv81jPAfooEWFzDrspK8UyB9V0dHYKS3uAVcheJnsZT6jDr7RWkNxGUNeSIJtZaUF6XTH64NcF_8i/s1600/IMG_7010.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Tonight I sat through Joey's LAST curriculum night of Elementary School. </div>
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It is September and of course my mind is all over the place.</div>
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Tomorrow is the six year anniversary of my losing E.</div>
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September 15th with be the 11th year anniversary of my kissing Andrew goodbye.</div>
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But tonight, I thought about Joey.</div>
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As we were leaving his school, we saw a piece hanging in the hallway. "The Top Ten Things You Need to Know about Joey" it read. I have to say as I went over each number, I secretly loved that he remembered his brother. I also openly loved that his brother wasn't the number one thing about him. Finding a balance between Joey and Andrew has been difficult at times. Andrew is a part of his story, but there is so much more to him.</div>
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He is Joey.</div>
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10- He makes comic books on his desk.</div>
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9- He likes all kinds of pasta and soup.</div>
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8- He's been to Fort Mackinaw.</div>
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7- He saved his brother's life.</div>
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6- He's been in an underground cave.</div>
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5- He used to live across from Commerce.</div>
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4- He was born with a twin brother that died.</div>
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3- He has a pet baby parrot.</div>
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2- He lives close to most of his friends.</div>
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And </div>
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#1... He ran in a 5K race.</div>
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Reading his list made me smile. Of course I knew all of these things (and so much more) but what HE chose is what made me smile. I could add a million more things that you should know about Joey, but instead I'll add to what he already told you~</div>
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To me.</div>
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He is Joey.</div>
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10- His mom loves how talented he is at drawing the expressions of others through his art. He is amazingly talented and was able to read (and draw) expressions at a very young age.</div>
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9- His mom loves that he says her mac-and-cheese is the BEST- especially because it is one of the only things she cooks (dad is the chef) and comes out of a blue box.</div>
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8- His mom loves his interest in history. Something that the two of them share though perhaps he doesn't know it. She also loves that he questions the same current events that she does.</div>
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7- Not only did he save one of his younger brothers when he fell in the water before he could swim, he saved his mom when she was drowning in her own grief. He continues to be an anchor for her.</div>
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6- His mom loves that he has a sense of adventure and while he really has been in an underground cave, she loves that he can create all sorts of caves in their house even if it's with some sheets and cushions. He has an AMAZING imagination. One that she hopes he will never lose!</div>
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5- He used to live in the house where he and his brother grew in his mom's belly. She would sit in that rocking chair and sing to them and read them both books. They would kick and get so excited when they heard her sing (or perhaps they were telling her to stop). :-)</div>
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4- He was born with a twin brother that died and his mom LOVES that he remembers that but LOVES even more that he is JOEY. JONASEN. JOE. The one who was meant to stay and be here and be all these amazing things. She loves that he stayed. He has important things to do in this life. He's already done so very, very much (see 7). She can't wait to see what his future holds and enjoys every minute of the journey with him (well... most minutes). </div>
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3- He has a mom who is obsessed with animals... dogs... fish... tortoise... bird... She hopes Joey never asks for a snake or tarantula! She loves animals~ but not all equally.</div>
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2- One thing his mom hears again and again from his friends' parents is how kind he is. How well mannered he is. How sweet he is to others. While she already knows all of this, hearing it from others makes her swell with pride. </div>
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1- His mom LOVES that he runs and is healthy. She also has begun running and makes sure to put in at least a half hour of exercise before she starts her day. While walking in the summer, a man saw his mom walking and told her, "That's the most important thing you're going to do today!" She remembered that and tells herself that on days she doesn't want to hit the treadmill- which is almost every day.</div>
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Running on the treadmill to be a healthy mom WAS the most important thing she did today.</div>
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The most important thing she will do tomorrow is read her son HER top ten "Joey Take" on Joey.</div>
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He makes her smile.</div>
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He lightens her spirit.</div>
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He makes her dance, and sing, and love.</div>
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Deeper.</div>
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Because he is.</div>
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Jonasen.</div>
<br />Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-79822883912787604222014-09-01T08:05:00.002-04:002014-09-01T08:31:18.014-04:00September.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2yvsgYTbX-gjV71xb4XQSp3oVbH1_yBHvbcMHpaaouzP9sNWGhpi1dSLyzUfo6TkgcJEkM8icPG-ZpBSvsSJXAzxsfyoI0I2s6adLTqzGZNVragBy570jmzQ_rWMEPAR_s6_fWqePiAHd/s1600/Screen+shot+2014-09-01+at+7.28.20+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2yvsgYTbX-gjV71xb4XQSp3oVbH1_yBHvbcMHpaaouzP9sNWGhpi1dSLyzUfo6TkgcJEkM8icPG-ZpBSvsSJXAzxsfyoI0I2s6adLTqzGZNVragBy570jmzQ_rWMEPAR_s6_fWqePiAHd/s1600/Screen+shot+2014-09-01+at+7.28.20+AM.png" height="297" width="400" /></a></div>
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Although I'm a teacher and still trying to cling to that "not knowing what day it is" mode, I woke this morning with a strange feeling. And I remembered.</div>
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It's September.</div>
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It's been eleven years and I still don't know how I feel about September.</div>
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It's the month I lost my son. Learned what it felt like to have a piece of my heart die. The month I held him, loved him, turned from him as the nurse placed him in his bassinet so I wouldn't have to see him leave me~ forever.</div>
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It's the month I became a mother. Looked into the eyes of my son. Learned what it felt like to have a piece of my heart beat outside my body. The month I first held him, loved him, nursed him, took him home to start this great adventure of life together.</div>
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September is when my life ended. September is when my new life began.</div>
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A story that often has two parts.</div>
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Sadness. Joy.</div>
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Anger. Forgiveness.</div>
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Pain. Love.</div>
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Early on I believe my brain made a choice. Even in those early moments, seeing that beautiful pink baby at my side~ knowing he was getting colder~ staring at those eyes~ knowing they would never open~ I made a choice.</div>
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I would not waste this. I would make him matter. Always.</div>
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Yesterday I was in church and the message was "Why do bad things happen to good people?"</div>
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I have found myself asking that same question over the years.</div>
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When my friend's mom was diagnosed with cancer.</div>
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She lost her son.</div>
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Her husband had a stroke.</div>
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Another friend struggled with infertility for years.</div>
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Finally became a mother to a beautiful little girl.</div>
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Her daughter diagnosed with cancer at six week old.</div>
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And just this morning learning that my friends' seven year old daughter died last night. </div>
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Morgan.</div>
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A little girl who survived when her triplet brother and sister did not.</div>
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She's now reunited with them.</div>
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Why?</div>
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There are so many questions that I have, that I know will never be answered.</div>
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So many "Whys?"</div>
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That first September, I experienced my worst and best moments. Separated only by one minute.</div>
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10:35. 10:36.</div>
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That first September I chose to make him matter.</div>
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To "Not waste the Pain."</div>
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To make Andrew count.</div>
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To learn from him.</div>
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And this September, I plan to do the same~</div>
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As I watch my eleven year old start his last year of elementary school.</div>
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Play on the soccer field.</div>
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Tickle the ivories.</div>
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Smile. Laugh. Hug.</div>
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As I watch one, I will also remember the other.</div>
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September Sucks.</div>
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But how grateful I am (and always will be).</div>
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For September.</div>
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(Please keep Rick, Kathy, and Cali in your prayers as they are missing their daughter/sister so very much. God-speed sweet Morgan. Dance and run with your siblings. Smile. Laugh. Hug.)</div>
Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-38961190826628101032014-07-21T10:09:00.001-04:002014-07-21T23:06:32.557-04:00One Word, Three Stories, Spread it.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Although I don't post here often, I know that this blog of mine gets quite a bit of traffic. It is not often when someone asks me to write a post (though I love it when they do). That happened recently when I heard from Heather. I let her know that I would be honored to write a post~ and then we were out of town, my mac met its untimely death thanks to a glass of water~ and in that time I had more opportunities to pause, think and reflect on what I might say... What you may not know is when I sit down to write posts on this blog, it takes me all of ten minutes. A big exhale if you will. Something that has been on my heart~ pulling on me~ and putting that 'something' onto a computer screen seems to be a big exhale.<br />
<br />
There have been many words that have sucked the air out of the room I was in over my lifetime. Words that have made it impossible to exhale because I couldn't take a breath. I find that those in my youth "I want to break up" were not quite as bad as those when I got older "I can't find a heartbeat." There is one word though- ONE WORD- that has the power to suck every ounce of air out of the room the moment you first hear its two syllables.<br />
<br />
Cancer.<br />
<br />
One word. One word that far too many people have heard. Far too many people have been a victim to its ability to stop time- remove all air from the room- leave you empty. <br />
<br />
Heather had written me telling me her story and asking me to share it~ for stories like hers and far too many others, need to be told- need to be read. Yes, they change the lives of those who first hear them- in that room- with that doctor... but the changing doesn't end there. It goes on and it continues. Like cancer, the changing of lives grows and spreads. Sometimes to people (like me) who have never met the person who first heard the diagnosis. I think of two people who I have written about on this blog. People I didn't really know- but still their stories changed me: <a href="http://momentsofpause.blogspot.com/2009/03/madison.html">Maddison</a> and <a href="http://momentsofpause.blogspot.com/2013/12/john.html">John.</a> Today I want to add three more stories. Stories that need to be shared- and spread.<br />
<br />
Heather.<br />
She had just given birth to her only daughter (Lily) three months before she heard one word. Cancer. She was given only 15 months to live. And during that time I can only imagine what went through her head... She learned that she had a rare form of cancer called Mesothelioma. Now cancer has many forms but this one she learned was totally preventable. It's a cancer caused only by asbestos exposure. The kind of of cancer that by spreading awareness (like the campaign to quit smoking) can save lives. Heather has asked me (and you) to "Take a moment for Meso" and check out mesothelioma.com. Miraculously Heather is still alive. She heard the word eight years ago but she was able to have a life saving surgery that included the removal of her left lung and is not thriving. She has long since passed her 15 months and would like you to take a moment to hear her story. <a href="http://www.mesothelioma.com/">One story- spread it.</a><br />
<br />
Jim.<br />
He had just learned that his wife had been diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer a few months before, and then that he had lost one of his twin grandsons, Andrew, when he first heard the word. Cancer. He was told one year. The name of his cancer was Multiple Myeloma. He searched and looked and tried everything he could. He had so much to live for. A few weeks before Andrew would have been in heaven a year, he had a moment with Andrew's parents. They told him it was time. To tell Andrew they loved him, wrap his arms around his grandson, wish him a happy birthday in heaven. My father-in-law had not been conscious for days but after we had our moment to speak with him alone, his breathing immediately changed. His wife came to the hospital, put her arm on his and spoke two words, "I'm here." He took his last breath and went to see his grandson. <a href="http://www.themmrf.org/">One story- spread it. </a><br />
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Vivian. Beth. Lawrence.<br />
Beth's and Lawrence's story began seven years ago. It consisted of one miscarriage and several different specialists telling them it was impossible- two years of holistic treatments- and finally spending all of their savings on a barely successful IVF. But it was successful! A miracle baby! She was so beautiful. A head full of dark hair and big beautiful eyes. While she was given the name Vivian, she quickly became "Panda"~ a sweet name for a sweet child. It had happened. Their dreams had come true. The best things are worth the wait and I imagined this was why... this was why all those years of praying for my friend to have a baby she hadn't~ until now. Panda was meant to be.<br />
What they thought was a simple cold turned out to be their biggest nightmare. They heard the word no parent ever wants to hear. Cancer. In Panda's case it's name has four letters ATRT. She was having trouble breathing and swallowing and then they learned she had a huge brain tumor. At six weeks of age, when they removed the tumor, it had already grown almost two more inches and had metastasized down Panda's little spine.<br />
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I have a cross I wear around my neck and as I put it on each morning I say the names of those on my heart. Those who have been heavy on my heart or those who pop into my mind for some unknown reason. I simply say their name~ thinking God knows. I have said Panda's name every morning and night for a year. <br />
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Yesterday I joined Beth and Lawrence as they were surrounded by friends and family who sang "Happy Birthday" to their miracle. Panda has been through more in her 12 months of life than I can even imagine. She has overcome and beat so many things but it is still an uphill battle... But one that her parents and so many others are willing to travel with her. <a href="http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/pdq/treatment/child-CNS-ATRT/patient/page1">One story- spread it.</a><br />
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Just like my story is mine, I know there have been those before me who have the same words, "No heartbeat" who have shaped who they are. Sadly, I know there will be those after me who will hear those same words. Not remember who they were before they heard them.<br />
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Just like the three stories I shared today, there are countless others who have gone before and will come after. But they are not alone. Share their stories. Say their names.<br />
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You may not realize it but you are not the same person you were yesterday. Moments happen and they shape you- change you- maybe just slightly- maybe so drastically you don't remember the person you were before~ but you will be changed. <br />
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I have been changed by one word that has included people I do and do not know.<br />
Please take a moment to think of them. Say their names. Spread their stories.<br />
Maddison, John, Heather, Jim, Panda.<br />
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Be changed.<br />
Remember them.<br />
Their stories may change the way you look at life. Maybe just for today, but maybe forever.<br />
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And please, continue to keep the strongest little one-year-old miracle I know in your prayers. I know when God chose her parents He chose two of the most amazing people he ever made. Say their names too.<br />
<br />
Love you Beth.<br />
<br />
Hugs-<br />
L<br />
<br />
For more information about the cancers in this post, please click on the words "One Story. Spread it" to learn more. To hear the stories of <a href="http://momentsofpause.blogspot.com/2009/03/madison.html">Maddison</a> and <a href="http://momentsofpause.blogspot.com/2013/12/john.html">John</a>, click on their names.<br />
<br />Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-13994591090100939592014-05-11T09:07:00.000-04:002014-05-11T10:40:17.291-04:00Mother's Day as a Verb<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Mother's Day</div>
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What is it about this day in my 10 years of being a 'mother' that has left me dreading it more often than not. I've thought about how I (someone who is surrounded by four healthy and beautiful children), could wake feeling melancholy~ maybe even a bit upset by what day it is... Why?<br />
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Perhaps it is because I'm thinking of my friend who never did become a mother. A faithful church-goer on all days (except this one).<br />
Perhaps it is because I am remembering my dear Auntie who dreamed of being a mother~ but never heard anyone call her by that name~ and she confided in me once how sad that made her.<br />
Perhaps it's because I am thinking of my dear friend (with no children that people see) who desperately longs to be a "mother" (as defined by the world).<br />
What if we were able to change that definition...<br />
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What's in the name "Mother."<br />
When I think of mother the words that come to mind are not nouns, but verbs~<br />
One who loves.<br />
One who cares.<br />
One who heals.<br />
One who teaches.<br />
One who hugs.<br />
One who puts others before herself because there is someone out there who needs her to... in that time... in that moment.<br />
What if we looked at Mother as not just someone who had a baby emerge from her womb and then raised that child, but one who loved bigger than herself. For isn't that what a mother does?<br />
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Thinking of the women (and men) out there who are hurting or perhaps thinking that this holiday isn't for them. Think again. Maybe it is. <br />
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Wishing the mother who delivered and mothered me and all the other 'mothers' out there who have loved me a peaceful day. You are remarkable. You are a mother.<br />
<br />
Happy Mothering Day~<br />
Hugs,<br />
LLaurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-61489930583967433532014-03-31T22:04:00.002-04:002014-03-31T22:04:56.715-04:00Scar Tissue<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"It has been said, 'Time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."</div>
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-Rose Kennedy</div>
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(Thanks Angie)</div>
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Cobi was the dog we shouldn't have had. </div>
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Cobi wasn't a smart dog, but he would come and sit and stay and do almost anything </div>
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if you had a treat in your hand.</div>
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You could set a treat on his paw and say, </div>
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"No" </div>
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and he would sit there and stare at that treat until you said, </div>
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"OK" </div>
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and he would gobble it up.</div>
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Cobi was the dog that could be sleeping and if you said, </div>
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"Squirrel," </div>
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he would jump to attention scanning the yard.</div>
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I think of those things now and I smile.</div>
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And then I cry.</div>
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Because Cobi is not here.</div>
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Cobi was the dog that followed me everywhere those days before I delivered the boys. I would get up in the night, unable to sleep and walk in the nursery (my bags packed for weeks). I would rock in the chair and sing and Cobi would be under my feet. He heard all the books I read to the boys. </div>
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He was always there. </div>
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I remember the night before I delivered waking up... Did I feel something? No. But there Cobi was. With me.</div>
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When we brought (just) Jonasen home, he was there. He lay under his bassinet or at the foot of anyone who held our new baby. He was always watching. </div>
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So many times he found me as I sat crying, curled in a ball on the floor</div>
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trying so desperately to be happy when inside I felt so sad. He was there. </div>
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With me.</div>
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Over the years, Joey grew and so did our family. Cobi was there through all of those moments. He watched as each new child came into our house. We moved. We said goodbye to precious family members. Celebrated birthdays. He was always there. </div>
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With me.</div>
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And now he's not.</div>
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Cobi got sick in January.</div>
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I thought it was a simple cold, a runny nose.</div>
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But there was blood.</div>
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And then weight loss.</div>
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And more blood.</div>
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He didn't come to see me in the mornings.</div>
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He slept most of the day.</div>
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I prayed he'd get better.</div>
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When he didn't, I prayed he'd let me know.</div>
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On March 16th I became worried. I called for Cobi outside and he didn't come. I looked in all his favorite places inside and he was nowhere.</div>
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Although it was freezing outside, I didn't bother with a coat.</div>
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I wrapped my arms around me as my heart pounded.</div>
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Screaming in my ears!</div>
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Oh God, No! Please let me find him.</div>
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"Cobi!" I screamed. "Cobi!"</div>
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And there in the darkness he came to me. Slowly but surely.</div>
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I looked into his sad eyes and I knew.</div>
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It was time.</div>
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He was telling me.</div>
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Saying goodbye to Cobi was one of the hardest days of my life, and I have had many.</div>
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What I didn't realize was that saying goodbye would rip off that scar tissue.</div>
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That the memories of loss and brokenness would come flooding back </div>
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as if I took the knife myself and cut a fresh new wound.</div>
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Here I am.</div>
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Curled on the floor.</div>
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The only difference is...</div>
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He's not with me.</div>
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Today we got the call.</div>
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He's ready.</div>
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His ashes are ready for us to pick up.</div>
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And again~ the scab ripped.</div>
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The memory of holding Andrew's ashes in my hand...</div>
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I can see it and feel it as if it was still happening!!!</div>
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They're not with me.</div>
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And I hate it.</div>
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To quote my daughter (wise beyond her nine years on earth), </div>
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"Eventually we will get <b><i>used</i></b> to Cobi being gone."</div>
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~We will not get 'over' it.</div>
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~We will not be 'healed in time.'</div>
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We will get <b><i>used</i></b> to it.</div>
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For years after Andrew died, I would blow a kiss to heaven each night.</div>
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While I think of him (still) every day, </div>
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on the edge of every thought, </div>
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I don't always pause to blow that kiss.</div>
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The scar tissue grew over. The pain lessened.</div>
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For the last few weeks, I've been going outside on my deck.</div>
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Wrapped in nothing but my arms saying those last words I whispered to Cobi.</div>
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"I love you. Now go catch a squirrel."</div>
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There is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0590417010/?tag=mh0b-20&hvadid=3525317698&ref=pd_sl_3mzfm2lir5_ee">THIS</a> wonderful book by Cynthia Rylant called Dog Heaven.</div>
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"When dogs go to Heaven, they don't need wings because God knows that dogs love running best.</div>
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He gives them fields. Fields and fields and fields.</div>
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When a dog first arrives in Heaven, he just runs."</div>
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Ah~ when I close my eyes and see Cobi on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge, I imagine him doing just that... Running. Perhaps after that squirrel.</div>
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And later the book reads, </div>
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"God knows that dogs love children more than anything else in the world, so He fills Dog Heaven with plenty of them. There are children on bikes and children on sleds. There are children throwing red rubber balls and children pulling kites through the clouds. The dogs are there, and the children love them dearly."</div>
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And Andrew and E (and all their friends) are there~ </div>
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with him. </div>
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They're laughing as that giant spotted tongue of his engulfs them in stinky kisses!</div>
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"Dogs in Dog Heaven have almost always belonged to somebody on Earth and, of course, the dogs remember this. Heaven is full of memories. So sometimes an angel will walk a dog back to Earth for a little visit and quietly, invisibly, the dog will sniff about his old backyard, will investigate the cat next door, will follow the child to school, will sit on the front porch and wait for the mail.</div>
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When he is satisfied that all is well, the dog will return to Heaven with the angel. It is where dogs belong, near God who made them."</div>
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Heaven.</div>
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We'll see them (all) at the Rainbow Bridge.</div>
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What a reunion it will be.</div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhi3WpRrXEc">Cobi & the Rainbow Bridge</a></div>
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Please pray for me tomorrow.</div>
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The vet called and he's ready.</div>
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I don't know if I am.</div>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-52738448608610408722014-01-29T22:38:00.003-05:002014-01-29T22:48:20.180-05:00My Keepsake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKGqvQqu57YhUsNo689hZ7pSvDrVkOcL32AGdEz94zte_nCeWoFFXXVPAKTpoOnnC4CMHlHvNfhDHSxyPRPrMULPeuz18hyP1abOx1zE9dTuGGjJPkGLkA0v19APvYa0ys3xdjPBgNWCS/s1600/IMG_1183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKGqvQqu57YhUsNo689hZ7pSvDrVkOcL32AGdEz94zte_nCeWoFFXXVPAKTpoOnnC4CMHlHvNfhDHSxyPRPrMULPeuz18hyP1abOx1zE9dTuGGjJPkGLkA0v19APvYa0ys3xdjPBgNWCS/s1600/IMG_1183.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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I have mentioned before how much I appreciate hearing from people who read my words or have heard my story. Last week, a woman contacted me and said that she had stumbled across my blog and was touched by my story. She works for an online retailer called <a href="http://www.evrmemories.com/">Everlasting Memories</a> -a website that specializes in cremation urns and memorial jewelry.</div>
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Memorial Jewelry.</div>
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I remember how much~ especially in those early days... months... years...~ that I felt I NEEDED to have something to wear. </div>
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Something to touch. </div>
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That would remind me of him.</div>
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It seems that most people I have met on this journey long for SOMETHING. A piece of jewelry, a tattoo a keepsake...</div>
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She sent me this <a href="http://www.evrmemories.com/Photo-Engraved-Jewelry-s/172.htm">LINK</a> to the website and asked that I look at their products and choose one as a gift to me!! As I looked through all the jewelry, I was so impressed with the pictures that I saw. They had pendants in all shapes and different kinds of metals. They also had cremation jewelry which was also beautiful, but since I do not have any remains from E, I felt that I didn't want to go that route. With so many choices, I hardly knew what to pick. So I didn't.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDnQWLPj6t2L8dGSi6-KzcFd0QypItEqIEz8lasS0I1yKEaEBl96RymP1z2S85yWMHywshUIC4clkmEoiv1FMd71Dti52OKnrpIH6ktx6JDTkYRKBouR18-P_ovrhVUIba-sc5C0XCNAo/s1600/IMG_1185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDnQWLPj6t2L8dGSi6-KzcFd0QypItEqIEz8lasS0I1yKEaEBl96RymP1z2S85yWMHywshUIC4clkmEoiv1FMd71Dti52OKnrpIH6ktx6JDTkYRKBouR18-P_ovrhVUIba-sc5C0XCNAo/s1600/IMG_1185.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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I sent her a picture of four of my blessings that was taken last summer. I remember trying to get them to smile at the camera and it was an epic failure. That was when they turned, still hand-in-hand and looked to the sea. I captured perhaps my favorite picture of them. A moment.</div>
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Looking out at the sky ~ beyond~ as I often do.</div>
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I knew which picture I wanted her to use and I gave her some writing that I thought would be nice on the back. I asked her to please choose a jewelry piece that SHE would like for me to have. She said the picture made her cry~ That she'd love to surprise me, but asked which color I preferred. I told her I thought I would like something in silver and for her to choose the rest.</div>
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She did.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGfrLSEtpFzA3TLzivVYLPOgC0ZjTbvQ3_siPTY0rXYCan7ZC11isAQ4JHVO4zggkAcpua-UwMxmDTrIar57f1EnXM0vhyphenhyphenyownbW7IDIIIB1K0hgtty8QfhGsQu4hdXs0kGIvd5fNzyHB/s1600/IMG_1184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGfrLSEtpFzA3TLzivVYLPOgC0ZjTbvQ3_siPTY0rXYCan7ZC11isAQ4JHVO4zggkAcpua-UwMxmDTrIar57f1EnXM0vhyphenhyphenyownbW7IDIIIB1K0hgtty8QfhGsQu4hdXs0kGIvd5fNzyHB/s1600/IMG_1184.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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Two days later (yes... two days!!!) I got this.</div>
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A beautiful keepsake indeed.</div>
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Something precious and perfect that will hang around my neck</div>
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as they do my heart.</div>
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I opened up the box and saw what at first glance looked like a smooth mirrored diamond and then it caught the light~ just right~ and there they were. Four of my blessings.</div>
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It was so beautiful. Clean. Perfect.</div>
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I turned it over and saw my words~ in a beautiful font she chose for me.</div>
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Blessed~</div>
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To watch four grow</div>
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And see two again.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfH2d1qwR_jGZbSjGhfMvRcPbkA5ZJ0r9Wo9qOBztf_DOn403QFvzvM7fIwTae8MCmHgodiNohN6eUFWMZyiWJcZtnU4l6kIuBXr1dXZMCyi011pJjVR4RF70gq6xenELaeWIuGdFpXRy1/s1600/IMG_1186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfH2d1qwR_jGZbSjGhfMvRcPbkA5ZJ0r9Wo9qOBztf_DOn403QFvzvM7fIwTae8MCmHgodiNohN6eUFWMZyiWJcZtnU4l6kIuBXr1dXZMCyi011pJjVR4RF70gq6xenELaeWIuGdFpXRy1/s1600/IMG_1186.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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It came with a thin petite chain of 20 inches.</div>
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And stole my breath.</div>
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I very much recommend you check out this site. For yourself. For someone else.</div>
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A beautiful keepsake.</div>
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Thank you, Hallie.</div>
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I will treasure it always!</div>
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Hugs,</div>
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L</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://www.evrmemories.com/" id="yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1391051637908_2744" rel="nofollow" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #196ad4; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">http://www.evrmemories.com/</a></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="http://www.evrmemories.com/Photo-Engraved-Jewelry-s/172.htm" id="yui_3_13_0_ym1_1_1391051637908_2745" rel="nofollow" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #196ad4; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">http://www.evrmemories.com/Photo-Engraved-Jewelry-s/172.htm</a></span></div>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876025621076336201.post-37020232860097605222014-01-14T22:27:00.003-05:002014-01-14T22:32:11.022-05:00A Living, Breathing Reminder<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOrYNsFDxRCVqa33Z5j2-Z8-yHy-K4UrVEoFFrb8k8h8GWbUxrpY66r-PpaS8IWsZbl-WJiInwC7CXAjGaXE7BXU8e99IaSQqFrhyguY2mNO7m4GPKKVZxvBi-CQP8i8Unael7dlPl55Z/s1600/IMG_1152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOrYNsFDxRCVqa33Z5j2-Z8-yHy-K4UrVEoFFrb8k8h8GWbUxrpY66r-PpaS8IWsZbl-WJiInwC7CXAjGaXE7BXU8e99IaSQqFrhyguY2mNO7m4GPKKVZxvBi-CQP8i8Unael7dlPl55Z/s400/IMG_1152.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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A living, breathing reminder.</div>
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That was what Jonasen was.</div>
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There were moments that I would look at him and instantly find myself wondering...</div>
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~What would Andrew's laughter sound like?</div>
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~What toppings would he want on his ice cream?</div>
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~What kind of book would he have chosen at bedtime?</div>
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Those moments still find me.</div>
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They found me tonight.</div>
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Jonasen (Andrew's twin) is at that lovely age where his permanent teeth have come in and (un)lucky for him, they have come in quite crooked and on top of each other. To make room in his mouth, he currently has an expander~ an awful thing that is attached to his teeth and slowly pushes them apart.</div>
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When he got it, I knew it would hurt.</div>
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Moving one's teeth can't be a pleasant feeling.</div>
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My husband had had one when he was younger</div>
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and sadly in no way sugar coated what it would feel like.</div>
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I believe the words "worst pain ever" came out of his mouth.</div>
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Each night, you have to take a tool (called a key) and turn it.</div>
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This pushes the teeth out and expands the jaw (hence the name).</div>
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Ugh.</div>
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There was no way my husband would turn the key...</div>
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He said he'd turn it maybe a week or so later when it no longer hurt as much.</div>
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And so I prepared myself.</div>
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To hurt our son.</div>
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21 turns.</div>
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I was so fearful before that first turn. </div>
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He got ice cream.</div>
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I had wine.</div>
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And we did it together.</div>
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He held the side of his face as he felt the pressure and tumbled into my arms the moment it was over.</div>
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And we just sat there.</div>
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Holding each other.</div>
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Dare I say it was nice?</div>
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I don't recall the last time my ten year old son climbed into my arms, on my lap and I just held him.</div>
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And so this has gone on~</div>
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16 turns.</div>
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16 nights.</div>
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And each one ends with him climbing into my lap and me holding him.</div>
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Tonight after I turned the key and he crawled into my lap I said, "Joey, does it still hurt?"</div>
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He looked up at me, smiled and said, "Not really..."</div>
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He folded back into my lap and I held him there as I have every night for the last 16 nights.</div>
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I won't let my husband turn the key.</div>
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I now look forward to an excuse for my ten year old to still need to cuddle his mom.</div>
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As he sat there tonight I thought of how blessed I was~</div>
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And Andrew was there.</div>
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Joey became a reminder...</div>
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And I wondered~</div>
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What would Andrew's laughter sound like?</div>
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What toppings would he want on his ice cream?</div>
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At ten, would he have crawled into my arms and found comfort?</div>
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Just like his brother?</div>
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And tonight I realized...</div>
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It doesn't matter.</div>
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Though there will be times that Andrew comes into my thoughts.</div>
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That I compare and wonder.</div>
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Tonight~</div>
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I will just treasure what he gave me.</div>
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Jonasen.</div>
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A few weeks after I delivered Andrew and Jonasen, I asked my doctor,</div>
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"Why did you have me come in a week early to be induced?"</div>
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(my pregnancy was perfect and she was going to let me go two weeks late)</div>
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Her reply, "God just put you in my head."</div>
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Andrew died the day I delivered him. They could tell by his coloring.</div>
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Like Andrew, Jonasen was wrapped in so much cord. </div>
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Had we waited, this post would not exist.</div>
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There would be no living, breathing reminder.</div>
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So today, as Jonasen sat so warm and lovingly on my lap~</div>
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As we just held each other~</div>
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I didn't wonder about Andrew.</div>
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Instead</div>
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I thanked him.</div>
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For my sweet Joey.</div>
<br />Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09451958236636719292noreply@blogger.com2