Top Ten Things You Should Know

Tonight I sat through Joey's LAST curriculum night of Elementary School.  

It is September and of course my mind is all over the place.

Tomorrow is the six year anniversary of my losing E.

September 15th with be the 11th year anniversary of my kissing Andrew goodbye.

But tonight, I thought about Joey.

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.

He is Joey.

10- He makes comic books on his desk.

9- He likes all kinds of pasta and soup.

8- He's been to Fort Mackinaw.

7- He saved his brother's life.

6- He's been in an underground cave.

5- He used to live across from Commerce.

4- He was born with a twin brother that died.

3- He has a pet baby parrot.

2- He lives close to most of his friends.

And 

#1... He ran in a 5K race.

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~

To me.

He is Joey.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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). :-)

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). 

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.

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.  

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.

Running on the treadmill to be a healthy mom WAS the most important thing she did today.

The most important thing she will do tomorrow is read her son HER top ten "Joey Take" on Joey.

He makes her smile.

He lightens her spirit.

He makes her dance, and sing, and love.

Deeper.

Because he is.

Jonasen.

September.

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.

It's September.

It's been eleven years and I still don't know how I feel about September.

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.

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.

September is when my life ended.  September is when my new life began.

A story that often has two parts.

Sadness.  Joy.

Anger. Forgiveness.

Pain. Love.

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.

I would not waste this.  I would make him matter.  Always.

Yesterday I was in church and the message was "Why do bad things happen to good people?"

I have found myself asking that same question over the years.

When my friend's mom was diagnosed with cancer.

She lost her son.

Her husband had a stroke.

Another friend struggled with infertility for years.

Finally became a mother to a beautiful little girl.

Her daughter diagnosed with cancer at six week old.

And just this morning learning that my friends' seven year old daughter died last night.  

Morgan.

A little girl who survived when her triplet brother and sister did not.

She's now reunited with them.

Why?

There are so many questions that I have, that I know will never be answered.

So many "Whys?"

That first September, I experienced my worst and best moments.  Separated only by one minute.

10:35.  10:36.

That first September I chose to make him matter.

To "Not waste the Pain."

To make Andrew count.

To learn from him.

And this September, I plan to do the same~

As I watch my eleven year old start his last year of elementary school.

Play on the soccer field.

Tickle the ivories.

Smile. Laugh. Hug.

As I watch one, I will also remember the other.

September Sucks.

But how grateful I am (and always will be).

For September.

(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.)

One Word, Three Stories, Spread it.

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.

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.

Cancer.

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. 

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:  Maddison and John.  Today I want to add three more stories.  Stories that need to be shared- and spread.

Heather.
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.  One story- spread it.

Jim.
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. One story- spread it.

Vivian. Beth. Lawrence.
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.
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.

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.

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.  One story- spread it.

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.

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.

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.

I have been changed by one word that has included people I do and do not know.
Please take a moment to think of them.  Say their names.  Spread their stories.
Maddison, John, Heather, Jim, Panda.

Be changed.
Remember them.
Their stories may change the way you look at life.  Maybe just for today, but maybe forever.

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.

Love you Beth.

Hugs-
L

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 Maddison and John, click on their names.

Mother's Day as a Verb

Mother's Day

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?

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).
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.
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).
What if we were able to change that definition...

What's in the name "Mother."
When I think of mother the words that come to mind are not nouns, but verbs~
One who loves.
One who cares.
One who heals.
One who teaches.
One who hugs.
One who puts others before herself because there is someone out there who needs her to... in that time... in that moment.
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?

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.

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.

Happy Mothering Day~
Hugs,
L

Scar Tissue

"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."

-Rose Kennedy

(Thanks Angie)

Cobi was the dog we shouldn't have had.  

Cobi wasn't a smart dog, but he would come and sit and stay and do almost anything 

if you had a treat in your hand.

You could set a treat on his paw and say, 

"No" 

and he would sit there and stare at that treat until you said, 

"OK" 

and he would gobble it up.

Cobi was the dog that could be sleeping and if you said, 

"Squirrel," 

he would jump to attention scanning the yard.

I think of those things now and I smile.

And then I cry.

Because Cobi is not here.

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.  

He was always there.  

I remember the night before I delivered waking up... Did I feel something?  No.  But there Cobi was.  With me.

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.  

So many times he found me as I sat crying, curled in a ball on the floor

 trying so desperately to be happy when inside I felt so sad.  He was there.  

With me.

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.  

With me.

And now he's not.

Cobi got sick in January.

I thought it was a simple cold, a runny nose.

But there was blood.

And then weight loss.

And more blood.

He didn't come to see me in the mornings.

He slept most of the day.

I prayed he'd get better.

When he didn't, I prayed he'd let me know.

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.

Although it was freezing outside, I didn't bother with a coat.

I wrapped my arms around me as my heart pounded.

Screaming in my ears!

Oh God, No!  Please let me find him.

"Cobi!" I screamed. "Cobi!"

And there in the darkness he came to me.  Slowly but surely.

I looked into his sad eyes and I knew.

It was time.

He was telling me.

Saying goodbye to Cobi was one of the hardest days of my life, and I have had many.

What I didn't realize was that saying goodbye would rip off that scar tissue.

That the memories of loss and brokenness would come flooding back 

as if I took the knife myself and cut a fresh new wound.

Here I am.

Curled on the floor.

The only difference is...

He's not with me.

Today we got the call.

He's ready.

His ashes are ready for us to pick up.

And again~ the scab ripped.

The memory of holding Andrew's ashes in my hand...

I can see it and feel it as if it was still happening!!!

They're not with me.

And I hate it.

To quote my daughter (wise beyond her nine years on earth), 

"Eventually we will get used to Cobi being gone."

~We will not get 'over' it.

~We will not be 'healed in time.'

We will get used to it.

For years after Andrew died, I would blow a kiss to heaven each night.

While I think of him (still) every day, 

on the edge of every thought, 

I don't always pause to blow that kiss.

The scar tissue grew over. The pain lessened.

For the last few weeks, I've been going outside on my deck.

Wrapped in nothing but my arms saying those last words I whispered to Cobi.

"I love you. Now go catch a squirrel."

There is THIS wonderful book by Cynthia Rylant called Dog Heaven.

"When dogs go to Heaven, they don't need wings because God knows that dogs love running best.

He gives them fields. Fields and fields and fields.

When a dog first arrives in Heaven, he just runs."

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.

And later the book reads, 

"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."

And Andrew and E (and all their friends) are there~ 

with him. 

They're laughing as that giant spotted tongue of his engulfs them in stinky kisses!

"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.

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."

Heaven.

We'll see them (all) at the Rainbow Bridge.

What a reunion it will be.

Cobi & the Rainbow Bridge

Please pray for me tomorrow.

The vet called and he's ready.

I don't know if I am.

My Keepsake

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 Everlasting Memories -a website that specializes in cremation urns and memorial jewelry.

Memorial Jewelry.

I remember how much~ especially in those early days... months... years...~ that I felt I NEEDED to have something to wear.  

Something to touch. 

That would remind me of him.

It seems that most people I have met on this journey long for SOMETHING.  A piece of jewelry, a tattoo a keepsake...

She sent me this LINK 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.

 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.

Looking out at the sky ~ beyond~ as I often do.

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.

She did.

Two days later (yes... two days!!!) I got this.

A beautiful keepsake indeed.

Something precious and perfect that will hang around my neck

as they do my heart.

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.

It was so beautiful. Clean. Perfect.

I turned it over and saw my words~ in a beautiful font she chose for me.

Blessed~

To watch four grow

And see two again.

It came with a thin petite chain of 20 inches.

And stole my breath.

I very much recommend you check out this site.  For yourself.  For someone else.

A beautiful keepsake.

Thank you, Hallie.

I will treasure it always!

Hugs,

L

http://www.evrmemories.com/

http://www.evrmemories.com/Photo-Engraved-Jewelry-s/172.htm

A Living, Breathing Reminder

A living, breathing reminder.

That was what Jonasen was.

There were moments that I would look at him and instantly find myself wondering...

~What would Andrew's laughter sound like?

~What toppings would he want on his ice cream?

~What kind of book would he have chosen at bedtime?

Those moments still find me.

They found me tonight.

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.

When he got it, I knew it would hurt.

Moving one's teeth can't be a pleasant feeling.

My husband had had one when he was younger

and sadly in no way sugar coated what it would feel like.

I believe the words "worst pain ever" came out of his mouth.

Each night, you have to take a tool (called a key) and turn it.

This pushes the teeth out and expands the jaw (hence the name).

Ugh.

There was no way my husband would turn the key...

He said he'd turn it maybe a week or so later when it no longer hurt as much.

And so I prepared myself.

To hurt our son.

21 turns.

I was so fearful before that first turn.  

He got ice cream.

I had wine.

And we did it together.

He held the side of his face as he felt the pressure and tumbled into my arms the moment it was over.

And we just sat there.

Holding each other.

Dare I say it was nice?

I don't recall the last time my ten year old son climbed into my arms, on my lap and I just held him.

And so this has gone on~

16 turns.

16 nights.

And each one ends with him climbing into my lap and me holding him.

Tonight after I turned the key and he crawled into my lap I said, "Joey, does it still hurt?"

He looked up at me, smiled and said, "Not really..."

He folded back into my lap and I held him there as I have every night for the last 16 nights.

I won't let my husband turn the key.

I now look forward to an excuse for my ten year old to still need to cuddle his mom.

As he sat there tonight I thought of how blessed I was~

And Andrew was there.

Joey became a reminder...

And I wondered~

What would Andrew's laughter sound like?

What toppings would he want on his ice cream?

At ten, would he have crawled into my arms and found comfort?

Just like his brother?

And tonight I realized...

It doesn't matter.

Though there will be times that Andrew comes into my thoughts.

That I compare and wonder.

Tonight~

I will just treasure what he gave me.

Jonasen.

A few weeks after I delivered Andrew and Jonasen, I asked my doctor,

"Why did you have me come in a week early to be induced?"

(my pregnancy was perfect and she was going to let me go two weeks late)

Her reply, "God just put you in my head."

Andrew died the day I delivered him.  They could tell by his coloring.

Like Andrew, Jonasen was wrapped in so much cord. 

Had we waited, this post would not exist.

There would be no living, breathing reminder.

So today, as Jonasen sat so warm and lovingly on my lap~

As we just held each other~

I didn't wonder about Andrew.

Instead

I thanked him.

For my sweet Joey.