Rudy Tootie

Our beloved dog, Rudy, made her earthly departure this week.  It was time, we have been expecting it for a while now, but we are still sad because we'll miss her.  Sam got Rudy about 14 years ago, when he was in college.  She was such a good girl.  The week that Beau died, Rudy had a small stroke (we think) and was walking sideways for a while, falling down, and not eating.  We thought it would be her "time" back in March when death seemed to overwhelm us with its presence.  But then shortly thereafter, she bounced back in a huge way.  Rudy was able to enjoy the summer with us, enjoy the new house, her new yard, and her patch of sunshine on the floor.  She went for walks in her new neighborhood, and visited a lovely new park.  But, this past week, she decided it was time to go chase the squirrels in the sky.  We love Rudy dearly, and are grateful for what seemed like "extra" time with her over this painful summer.  We needed her.  Rest in peace, Rudy, you're a good girl.

Now it's been seven.

I realized towards the end of my work day today, that today's date is the seventh.  It's been seven months without Beau.  I actually felt really ok today, I feel empowered, I feel good.  Beau is never far from my mind - in fact, he's always right there.  Right under the surface.  So close I could almost touch him, but sadly, I can't.  I can just hold him with my heart and keep him near, and breathe in the presence of him that I sometimes feel when I look up at the sky.

I burst out crying last night, sort of out of the blue, but at the same time, typical.  After dinner last night, Sam and I were planning our trip to the Canyonlands (around the Moab area) for this weekend, and I was aware of something missing.  Something was missing, and at first I couldn't put my finger on it.....were we supposed to be doing something this weekend?  Was somebody supposed to come visit us?  (we've had, thankfully, lots of visitors this summer).  Did we have another commitment?  Or can we just leave for a four-day weekend and not look back?  And I suddenly realized that it was our SON we were missing.
Beau will not be in the car seat going with us on our camping trips, gurgling and making baby noises, pooping his diaper, and looking out the window at the beautiful views, and - just - being alive. 

I cried for a long time.  And I was so thankful that I have a loving husband to drop everything to hold me.  And I - again - found myself suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable.  I do that often; I am so acutely aware that just because the UNTHINKABLE happened when Beau died, I am not immune to further tragedy.  There is no guarantee that "she has been through enough".....other things can happen, other things HAVE happened to Baby Loss Mamas.  And I got so scared, and I cried some more.

Then this evening came, and I was making dinner (a traditional southern dinner, "red beans & rice" that we make often - I have learned how to make some purdy durn good cornbread....Sam's from Mississippi and I know he loves me a teeeeny bit more for that.  Heehee).  I put on a music mix that we put together for our rehearsal dinner, we had a traditional Fish Fry at my wonderful in-law's, the night before our wedding (over 3 years ago).  I was stirring the cornbread batter tonight, while our southern music mix was playing in the background, and I was thinking of how happy our wedding was, and my thoughts drifted to Beau.  Suddenly June Carter Cash's song came on, "Keep on the Sunny Side" and I felt like, through my sadness, it was playing just for me. 

There's a dark & a troubled side of life
There's a bright, there's a sunny side, too
Tho' we meet with the darkness and strife
The sunny side we also may view

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us ev'ry day, it will brighten all the way
If we'll keep on the sunny side of life

The storm and its fury broke today,
Crushing hopes that we cherish so dear;
Clouds and storms will, in time, pass away
The sun again will shine bright and clear.

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us ev'ry day, it will brighten all the way
If we'll keep on the sunny side of life

Let us greet with the song of hope each day
Tho' the moment be cloudy or fair
Let us trust in our Saviour away
Who keepeth everyone in His care

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us ev'ry day, it will brighten all the way
If we'll keep on the sunny side of life

I used to think of it as a super-happy song, but you know what?  I think it's a song of encouragement.
And then - you guessed it - I cried some more.  But through my tears of sorrow, alongside my tears of pain, I also cried some tears of gratefulness for my son to even bring his presence into my life.  I know that Beau would want me to be happy, would want us, his mommy and daddy to be the happy people that we are naturally.  And I'm trying to see that even though Beau graced us with his presence for only a short time, he provided us with so much happiness, so much LIFE, so much hope.  So I'm trying, Beau, I'm trying not to live my life as a devastated and defeated person, walking with my head down.  I'm trying to "keep on the sunny side" baby, because I know that's where you are!! 

love,

minnow

p.s. a couple wedding pictures, just cuz I wanted to share.  May 12, 2007.  It was so much fun!!

Music

My musical taste has been described as schizophrenic, and I think that's pretty accurate.  I listen to everything from Neil Diamond, to angry loud punk music (including Irish-punk), to the Beastie Boys, Karen Carpenter (So? at least I admit it), some jazz, indie rock, Indigo Girls, Johnny Cash, The Flaming Lips, 50's bubblegum oldies, the list goes on and on.......and if I've had a couple beers and 80's music starts playing on the dance floor, move over Elaine from Seinfeld, here I come! :)  There are some pop songs that play on the radio that I can get into, but for the most part, that's the only type of music I DON'T like.

And for some reason lately, I have been playing a Dolly Parton album and really appreciating the beauty of her voice.

I found this video on You Tube with Dolly and Norah Jones, and I love both their voices.  It's one of Dolly's songs about love and loss and how she had to think in terms of "opposites" in order to survive her new life without her love.  I love this performance because of the beauty of their music, and how they were able to illustrate the absurdity of a pain felt so deep.  I think of it as a metaphor for how quickly life can turn upside down. 

Here's a peek:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5B039WRrGA

love,
minnow

Six Months.

My Dearest Beau,
It's been six months since I saw your beautiful, perfect face. It's been six long, painful months that your daddy and I have been coping with the loss of you. I've cried rivers of tears and I thought I would actually die of a broken heart.
But I know now, that no matter how many tears fall, and how much I wish (I have wished enough for the whole world!) it will not bring you back.
I would have traded everything, my whole life, everything I knew, for just five minutes with you. But we don't get that choice, do we little Beau?
Just recently I have noticed the hard edges of my jagged, torn-apart life have started to soften. And I have started to learn how to cope with this pain, with this loss of you. And I know now, that I must go on. If it means that I can keep loving you, I can go on.
I don't know why you had to leave us so soon, and I don't know why it had to be you. But, I do know for absolute certain, one thing: my love for you is greater than my pain. And my love for you grows every day.
I love you, my Beau. More than the sun shines, mommy loves you.

A smile.

I ride the bus to work. I have ever since we moved to Denver. I love the bus - the characters, the fact that I don't have to drive, deal with my own or others' road rage, scrape ice off the car in the winter, buy gas as often, being environmentally conscious, or having to pay for parking. Ok, so that's the biggest thing - paying for parking downtown (guess we're just kinda cheap, but only with with some things. Although I prefer the term "frugal").

I got on my bus this morning, as usual, and saw another bus at the station. The advertisement on the side of that bus was sky blue, with big puffy clouds and said, "STARING INTO SPACE IS UNDERRATED. Ride public transportation."

It made me smile. I catch myself staring into space often (on my own time, at inappropriate times, doesn't matter to me), and I appreciated the ad. Big smile this morning. Staring into space IS underrated, I totally agree. Thanks, bus!

Hand prints

I remember sitting in the funeral home, the day after I was released from the hospital. I was asked if I wanted some hand prints done of Beau. I remember being under the influence of narcotic pain medication and in a daze, but I remember clearly being asked if I wanted some hand prints. I was re-assured that if it was too hard to look at them then, they would keep them on file for when I wanted to pick them up later. I remember also they wanted to sell me some keepsakes - particularly "thumbprint" jewelry, etc. I said, "Yes please, do the hand prints."

This whole time, it's been in the back of my mind that the funeral home has these supposed hand prints. I've considered calling them, or dropping by, to pick them up. However, something inside of me said to wait until I can handle the fact that they don't have them....somehow I knew. I called yesterday, and the woman said, "Yes, I remember, and I'll have those prints ready for you. We usually reserve those for the keepsakes, but yes, I'll have them ready." I said okay, still not convinced they had them on file. In fact, about 20 minutes later, the phone rings, and the caller id said The Monarch Society - it was the funeral home calling. I answered, and she introduced herself, and said, "I have here on file that we already gave the hand prints to you." I said, "No, I would know if you had. I don't have them anywhere. I know it, I do NOT have them, ANYWHERE." She apologized. I quickly got off the phone and Sam walked around the corner and I started sobbing to him, "I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, they don't have them, and I knew it!" Then I flung myself on the bed and sobbed some more.

Everything we have and have gotten from the hospital and from the funeral home, we immediately put in a safe place, in the SAME place. We have the footprints that the hospital did when he was born, but no hand prints. I have looked at Beau's memory box a million times since March. I smell his blanket and kiss the little knit that he wore. I touch his tiny footprints, inked onto the paper, next to the little locket of hair. I hold his pictures to my chest and sleep with the little teddy bear that the hospital gave me. The teddy bear touched Beau. And for me it's some kind of connection to him, and I sleep with the little bear clutched close to my heart, every single night. And so, I would know if we had hand prints. But we don't. I think they must have made a terrible error.

I desperately wish for those hand prints, yes. But what I want, and deeply long for obviously, is my son. I absolutely hate when I come across things that are "one more thing to mourn". There was a day that I realized that not only was I missing my son, but that HE was also missing THIS LIFE, this time with his parents, experiencing summer, ice cream, doggies, parks, grass, laughter, sunshine, rain, mountains, etc. That was a hard day. My support group facilitator had emailed me to ask how I was doing, and I told her that recent realization, and she responded, "I know, it's a bitter pill to realize how much Beau got ripped off too." So true.

Well, I'm off to ride rollercoasters with Emily, and screaming appropriately.

Weird but good.

I had a meeting today, out of the office, with a bunch of people I do not see on a very regular basis - just every few months or so. The last few meetings with this group, I skipped, for fear of running into someone who saw me pregnant, but didn't know what happened. And so inevitably, when the meeting ended today, and everyone was walking to our cars, a woman approached me that I had met a few times before, while I was pregnant. We had talked about pregnancy stuff last winter.

She walked over to me with an excited look on her face. “Did you have your baby?” she asked. [What kind of question is that, anyways? Did I deliver him? Yes. Do I have him now? NO.]

I answered her question by saying quietly, “Well he passed away actually. Shortly before he was to be born. Umbilical cord accident, most likely.”

She said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you at the last meeting, so I just figured….you know, you had your baby….” Her voice trailed off, and she looked confused.

“Well, I took some time off.” I answered.

“Oh.” she said, and nodded. Then she turned to me, smiled cheerfully and said, “Well, have a good one!”

“Yeah, you too…” I said, and we parted ways.

I got in the car, sat for a minute with the keys in my lap, and stared off into space. Until I realized there was an SUV lurking behind me, waiting for my sweet parking spot. So I started the car, drove back to the office, and thought to myself, “Huh. That was an interesting response. Smile and ‘have a good one’, just seconds after I tell you what happened? Hmm, haven’t gotten that one yet.” But I didn’t get pissed at her for her odd response, I didn’t yell expletives when I was driving, I didn’t even cry. Not one tear. After the maybe 10 minutes it took me to get back to the office, I was ok. Calm even. I felt like I was control of my emotions, and it felt very very good. Weird for once, but good.

Then when I got back to the office, I saw flyers suddenly taped up in their usual spots, whenever there is a baby shower (there are lots, lately). A Noah’s ark-themed baby shower announcements for a co-worker, “Peter is having a BOY!” My thoughts were, “Yeah, yeah, someone’s always popping one out. I didn't even know Peter was pregnant." Heh heh.

There was a baby shower scheduled for me back in March, but Beau didn’t make it to it; he must have known his mom doesn’t get into those kinds of things anyways. Which made me chuckle (a tiny bit) when I realized that today. Thanks Beau, for saving your mom the embarrassment of opening up gifts in front of co-workers, saying, “Awwww! It’s so cute! Thank you!” a million times, eating an awkward catered lunch, and drinking punch in the conference room. Whoo-hoo. Not that I wasn’t grateful at all for the planned baby shower, in fact I was very touched, but my co-workers knew I was sort of mocking the whole concept anyways. Actually I remember saying to them several times, "You guys REALLY don't have to do this. REALLY." But they laughed and said it was mandatory and all I had to do was pick a date. And register for gifts. I said, "Well, ookkkaaayyy, but absolutely no baby shower games".....Have you guys been to a baby shower where they play games?! Ehh, not really my style.

Two fairly large emotional triggers in one day. And I feel okay! Baby steps (no pun intended)? Progress? Healing? I don’t know, but it damn sure feels good.