A year consists of 365 days. I always hear the saying "Gosh, time flies". In some ways, I totally see how time moves so quickly. Events come quickly, our kids seem to grow daily, anniversaries and birthdays and other holidays seem to roll around quicker each year. But, as a grieving parent, I can attest to you that time seems to move both quickly and so slowly at the same time. For us, 365 days marks another birthday, another holiday and another anniversary without our child. For us, 365 days, actually, equates to 8 years...,which is also 2, 920 days, that we have existed and lived through and with the death of our son, Collin. That number seems astronomical, because I remember every tiny detail about his birth, what he looked like, what he smelled like exactly 8 years ago. For anyone walking into our room, you wouldn't know that he wasn't a living, breathing baby boy. He was perfect. He had a head full of hair. He had perfect "Coloura" features. He was beautiful and exquisite, just like all our living and breathing children had looked at their births.
I decided to "title" this entry "Some days" because a grieving parent cannot pinpoint the precise emotion they feel from day to day. I've truly learned, throughout this journey, that the way I feel and relate to the rest of the world changes daily.
Some days....I'm truly pissed! Why did THIS happen to us? We did everything right!!
Some days....I feel guilty because MY body failed my son!
Some days.... I truly want to KILL or do harm to the doctor who caused my son's death. I want to scream at her, shake her and tell her that she should have listened to me.
Some days...... I just want to set this burden down. I want to delete it from my mind and just give myself a moment of "freedom".
Some days I want others to experience this...just so they KNOW how it feels. But, then I want to quickly "take it away" so they don't have to live with it, day in and day out.
Some days....I just want to shout it from the mountains that it is okay that I grieve and miss my baby boy. No amount of time will ever take that ache away.
Some days....I want to yell at those who walked away, judged us, shook their judgmental fingers at us and told us to "get over it".
Some days...I just want to GIVE UP! I just want to be with Collin. I am tired. I'm sad. I just don't want to do THIS anymore. But, then I remember all those who Collin wants me to live for.
Some days.....I cannot believe that I'm doing dishes, I'm sweeping my floor, I'm grocery shopping, I'm watching Game of Thrones while I'm living with the death of my baby. Gosh, THAT guilt lives with me. How could I possibly laugh, smile, do housework, etc while my son is buried in the ground. I won't lie....some days I literally have to pretend it didn't happen. And then, other days, I just want to crawl in a hole and stay there.
Some days...I thank God that some of my "so called" friends simply walked away. Good riddance! But, other days, it truly hurts. Some of them I've known since I was a young kid. I assumed they would "stick" with me, but then I see the true character of those around me.
Some days.....I feel honored to dive into the trenches with other grieving parents, but some days, it just rips off the scabs and opens up the wounds all over again.
Some days....I'm tired of fighting for his legacy. Who will do it when I'm gone? His name only exists on a piece of concrete. Once I'm gone, who will honor his birthday? Who will bring flowers?
Some days....I'm ANGRY and SO PISSED at God! Other day I am compelled to offer Grace and forgiveness. Although, those days feel limited at times.
Some days.....I wish I could turn back time. I want a redo. I want to demand the doctors deliver Collin on the night I went into the hospital with major concerns. But, then, would that ERASE Carson and Cannon? How could a mother possibly choose between her children?
Some day...I just want others to sympathize with the unfathomable, unrelenting, brutal pain of burying one of your children. I don't wish it upon you, but I just want you to stop and think about what it would be like for YOU to bury one of your babies. That's all!
Some days...I just wish you would STOP judging us for remembering, loving, missing, grieving, being angry about the death of our child.
Some days...I just want to sleep without experiencing nightmares about death. I want to experience happiness and not worry about burying another child. I don't sleep well. I never sleep without some sort of nightmare about another one of my kids dying.
Some days I just don't want to wake up anymore. It is just so tiring, emotionally and physically crippling and draining.
But, then I remember TOMORROW will be another day that a sweet baby or child will die and the parents will be lost, just as we were. But, I pray and HOPE, that maybe I can provide a little guidance, despite the turmoil and sadness I still feel every day.
I will NEVER sugar coat it. I will never minimize it. I will NEVER make it appear like "sunshine and daisies". It's NOT! It's hard work! It is minute by minute living. It's trying to find the one-great-thing every day to be HERE for! It's offering Grace! It's offering HOPE! It's trying to see the GOOD in every detail. It's finding your way....no matter how many turns, forks, dead ends you encounter. It's doing it YOUR way without acknowledging anyone elses's opinion.
Truly....I could go on and on and on. Even with all this...unless you have experienced the death of a child....it is truly something you cannot truly comprehend. Thank you for trying. Thank you for honoring my child. Thank you for being by my side. Thank you for giving me Grace when I'm angry and cantankerous.
Having said that....
.........what I really, truly, desperately want EVERY day...is my son, Collin Xavier, to be here on earth with us instead of celebrating his 8th birthday in Heaven. THAT, THAT! That is what I want....every...every...single day of my life and the rest of my days!
I love you so much Collin!!! Mommy and daddy WILL NEVER EVER forget who you are!
Collin Xavier Coloura
Saturday, April 13, 2019
Saturday, March 3, 2018
It's not just a lizard!
It's amazing to me just how many people I've met along the way who've lost a child, sibling, niece, nephew, grandchild, etc. Four years ago I wouldn't have given it another thought. I mean, children don't die????!!! Wow, was I naïve. Sadly, I know all too well that isn't our reality.
Just the other day the lady taking my blood for a simple blood test asked me about my tattoo. Of course my heart races because it's an opportunity for me to share a little about Collin. After I told her about the meaning behind my tattoo, she told me about the brother she lost when she was two. Asking her to tell me about him didn't seem taboo to me. It seemed like a logical request. He's part of her life, so I wanted her to share him with me. She was too young to remember him, but she knows all about him. Her family's loss was over 20 years ago, yet her family continues to celebrate his birthday every year. She said that every time she sees a lizard, it makes her think of him. To her family, a lizard just isn't a lizard. A lizard is a little tiny piece of their heart. It's something tangible that they can remember and reminisce about a little life cut way too short.
Fast forward many years from then. Along this painful journey, I've met a lot of "lizard" families, as well as "pig" families, "sunflower" families, "puppy" families, "turtle" families, "lady bug" families, and many other "dragonfly" families. Each time I meet family enduring the loss of a child, I am reminded that Earth is not our home, yet little pieces of our loved ones are forever etched in our hearts and minds to help us remember everything about them. I love hearing each and every story about how each little "symbol" reminds a loved one grieving here on earth about a child they've lost.
To them, a lizard isn't just a lizard. A lizard is a little piece of that little boy or girl that left them way too soon.
I love how so many of my friends reach out and continue to reach out when they see a dragonfly. Somehow along the way, they are also reminded of Collin, the sweet baby that left us almost 7 years ago. I do have to say that knowing that dragonflies remind so many of you of Collin makes my heart smile. Thank you for loving him almost as much as we do.
Next time you see a lizard, a dragonfly, a red bird, a turtle, a sunflower....take a moment to realize how exquisite God is in all His creations.
I recently read an article about how our loved ones visit us. I truly believe that Collin is with God and has so much more important things to do with his time than come visit me, but I found this and thought it was truly interesting: If it gives you some hope, then I'm truly overjoyed I could give you just a little hope.
Just the other day the lady taking my blood for a simple blood test asked me about my tattoo. Of course my heart races because it's an opportunity for me to share a little about Collin. After I told her about the meaning behind my tattoo, she told me about the brother she lost when she was two. Asking her to tell me about him didn't seem taboo to me. It seemed like a logical request. He's part of her life, so I wanted her to share him with me. She was too young to remember him, but she knows all about him. Her family's loss was over 20 years ago, yet her family continues to celebrate his birthday every year. She said that every time she sees a lizard, it makes her think of him. To her family, a lizard just isn't a lizard. A lizard is a little tiny piece of their heart. It's something tangible that they can remember and reminisce about a little life cut way too short.
Fast forward many years from then. Along this painful journey, I've met a lot of "lizard" families, as well as "pig" families, "sunflower" families, "puppy" families, "turtle" families, "lady bug" families, and many other "dragonfly" families. Each time I meet family enduring the loss of a child, I am reminded that Earth is not our home, yet little pieces of our loved ones are forever etched in our hearts and minds to help us remember everything about them. I love hearing each and every story about how each little "symbol" reminds a loved one grieving here on earth about a child they've lost.
To them, a lizard isn't just a lizard. A lizard is a little piece of that little boy or girl that left them way too soon.
I love how so many of my friends reach out and continue to reach out when they see a dragonfly. Somehow along the way, they are also reminded of Collin, the sweet baby that left us almost 7 years ago. I do have to say that knowing that dragonflies remind so many of you of Collin makes my heart smile. Thank you for loving him almost as much as we do.
Next time you see a lizard, a dragonfly, a red bird, a turtle, a sunflower....take a moment to realize how exquisite God is in all His creations.
I recently read an article about how our loved ones visit us. I truly believe that Collin is with God and has so much more important things to do with his time than come visit me, but I found this and thought it was truly interesting: If it gives you some hope, then I'm truly overjoyed I could give you just a little hope.
Showing Up As an Insect or Animal.
Your loved one in Heaven is now pure energy… They are able to channel their energy into an insect or animal, for a brief period of time to bring you a sign that their spirit lives on.
They may appear to you in this way as a butterfly, dove, rabbit, dragonfly, or any other number of insects or animals… When this happens, the animal or insect will usually do something that is out of character that catches your attention. They may land on your hand, come into your home, or appear closely, right in front of you as if they are communicating.
This is a common type of communication from spirit. If something like this happens to you, trust that your loved one is with you, and letting you know that they are okay, and that you are not alone.
I honestly believe that in times of our grief, God grants us a little reprieve by sending us something to remind us that He is eternity, He is eternal, He is hope. He is always with us, even when we doubt and we are at our weakest. So, when you see a lizard, it might not be "just a lizard" to someone else. It might be their tiniest flame of Hope; a Hope that tells us that we are never alone in our grief and our babies are in a much more glorious place than we can ever imagine.
"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." ~ Isaiah 41:10
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Nothing Profound
Some days I want to just write something profound. I'm definitely not a gifted writer. I've read so many beautifully written blogs. I just don't have that talent.
All I can really say is that I miss my son. Not a day goes by that I don't wonder about him. My heart hurts just as much today as it did four years ago. Not a moment goes by that I don't consider writing the doctor a letter explaining how angry I am. Not a minute goes by that I don't realize how truly precious life is. Some days I just want to give up. I'm tired. I get up daily, try to make the best of every day, embrace what life brings me, count my blessings, and still miss my son.
Over the years, the grief has changed. It's become a part of me. There's really not much I can say to explain the feelings I feel. No one can understand unless they've experienced something similar. I hope that along the way my words and story have touched at least one person. I think about my friends who have also lost children. My heart bleeds for them daily, too. Not a moment goes by that I don't stop thinking about them as well. They are who give me strength, honestly.
So, tonight, I really have nothing profound to say. I just wanted to share my heart and tell Collin how much is mommy misses him and loves him.
Always and forever!
Mommy
All I can really say is that I miss my son. Not a day goes by that I don't wonder about him. My heart hurts just as much today as it did four years ago. Not a moment goes by that I don't consider writing the doctor a letter explaining how angry I am. Not a minute goes by that I don't realize how truly precious life is. Some days I just want to give up. I'm tired. I get up daily, try to make the best of every day, embrace what life brings me, count my blessings, and still miss my son.
Over the years, the grief has changed. It's become a part of me. There's really not much I can say to explain the feelings I feel. No one can understand unless they've experienced something similar. I hope that along the way my words and story have touched at least one person. I think about my friends who have also lost children. My heart bleeds for them daily, too. Not a moment goes by that I don't stop thinking about them as well. They are who give me strength, honestly.
So, tonight, I really have nothing profound to say. I just wanted to share my heart and tell Collin how much is mommy misses him and loves him.
Always and forever!
Mommy
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Anything and Everything
We are 3 months into our journey of losing our son, Collin. Over these three months the grief has certainly changed. I recall the first week. I was in total haze. I honestly don't remember the funeral, who came, who spoke, me speaking, anything really. I've read it is my brains way of protecting me against such a horrific event. I sit here tonight and think "that wasn't so bad to kind of be oblivious to everything around me". The emotions were intense in the beginning. That's not to say that they aren't now, but they've certainly changed. And they change daily. One moment I go about my daily routine and block out any of the pain I feel. It must just build up because I tend to explode once I'm alone. I survive the day and then usually fall apart at night. Sometimes when I mention I'm having a bad moment I get asked "why"? The answer in my mind is always the same......."my son is dead". I'm 36 and relatively healthy (excluding the high blood pressure issues I'm still having due to the pregnancy) Calculate the amount of time it will most likely be before I get to see my beautiful son again. Could you live that long without seeing your child? It's hell! It's hell to think about. It's hell to think that I'll never see his first smile, his first tooth, his first time saying "momma", his first steps, his first day of kindergarten, or millions of other firsts". I never will.
I've learned to put on a semi-"normal" face when I see people now. But the face is hiding what I truly feel inside. I feel dead. I feel no life inside me. I should have been an actress because I can sure fake me appearing okay. But, I'm not okay. I'll never be okay. You'll find me most nights crying myself to sleep, like tonight. I titled this "anything and everything" because there isn't really ANYTHING in particular that can "set" me off. I can be driving down IH35 and just start bawling my eyes out. It's honestly EVERYTHING. It hurts to see other pregnant women, it hurts to see other babies, it hurts to see people in general. It hurts to do anything new. It hurts to do anything with my kids because I feel in my heart that Collin should be right there with us. He should have been at Chuck E Cheese yesterday. I should be stressing out today when I lugged all four of them to stores to buy school clothes. His little seat should have been right there with all of us. How do I reconcile that in my heart? It can't be done. So, what can I do? I can placate others and tell them I'm "fine". Those that really know me will hopefully see through that line and realize that I'm NOT fine and never will be. The world is filled with too much ANYTHING and EVERYTHING.
I've learned to put on a semi-"normal" face when I see people now. But the face is hiding what I truly feel inside. I feel dead. I feel no life inside me. I should have been an actress because I can sure fake me appearing okay. But, I'm not okay. I'll never be okay. You'll find me most nights crying myself to sleep, like tonight. I titled this "anything and everything" because there isn't really ANYTHING in particular that can "set" me off. I can be driving down IH35 and just start bawling my eyes out. It's honestly EVERYTHING. It hurts to see other pregnant women, it hurts to see other babies, it hurts to see people in general. It hurts to do anything new. It hurts to do anything with my kids because I feel in my heart that Collin should be right there with us. He should have been at Chuck E Cheese yesterday. I should be stressing out today when I lugged all four of them to stores to buy school clothes. His little seat should have been right there with all of us. How do I reconcile that in my heart? It can't be done. So, what can I do? I can placate others and tell them I'm "fine". Those that really know me will hopefully see through that line and realize that I'm NOT fine and never will be. The world is filled with too much ANYTHING and EVERYTHING.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Split Personality
I feel as if I have a split personality when I think about where my faith lies lately. I'd say the death of a baby can really test one's faith. I honestly feel like I have two train of thoughts on this matter. One side of me knows that Collin is with our Lord and Savior, but the other part of me feels angry and questions how my God can bless me with a pregnancy only to take it away in such a devastating way. How do I reconcile my two thought patterns?
Over the last 8 weeks, I've not had much interest in going back to church. We decided to start back again today; however our church was having "baby dedication" day today. Both Manny and I felt like we weren't emotionally prepared to sit through everyone dedicating their LIVING children to a life of Jesus. It is a great decision, but we weren't ready for seeing it today. Afterall, we have given one of our children to God in the most literal sense. My faithful side realizes that God has called Collin for a special purpose. But my angry side wants him here on Earth with us. We decided to go to a friend's church. Everyone was welcoming and friendly. I'm still going through major anxiety with crowds of people. (My "before Collin" self loved meeting new people and making friends), but seeing new people in a crowded setting gives me horrible anxiety. I guess I'm afraid of running into people I know and having to explain why my son isn't here with us. Or I'm afraid of getting the question "how many children do you have?" It's such an innocent question, but it's one I can no longer bring myself to ask others. How do I answer? Do I say five and then have to explain that one is in heaven? Then that person feels terrible. Do I say four? Then it seems like I'm not honoring the existence of my son, Collin? It's one of those questions that I dread being asked. I want to retreat into a shell. And of course someone DID ask today. And wouldn't you know, out of all the seats available in the church, a pregnant woman comes and sits directly in front of us. There's constant reminders around us that we no longer have Collin.
Anyhow, back to church....yes,everyone was pleasant and I had an anxiety attack. We go in and listen to the worship choir sing. The pastor starts his sermon. I'd already started crying before the pastor could even begin preaching. One of his messages was to "surrender your worries, pains, and fears to Jesus". My faithful side says "I need to let it go, give it to God", but my angry side kicks in and almost makes me roll my eyes. Horrible! I literally feel the battle within myself. Today, being the first day back in church, was so overwhelming that I almost had to get up and walk out. (If it weren't for Manny's arms around me, I would have) I cried throughout the entire sermon. I thought to myself...I can't do this. I can't come back to God while I'm so angry. How can he fix me? Why would he want to fix me? When will he fix me? When will this pain go away? Do I want it to go away? How can I be worthy of His love and grace when I feel so angry with Him?
What I do know is that I desperately need my ever faithful friends to help bring me back to Jesus. I need them to lean on. I need their guidance throughout this storm. I've come to realize that all of this, my anxiety, depression, anger, scatterbrained-ness, hopelessness, battles with my faith, are all part of my Journey through Losing a Child. I know I'm not alone in this journey. I also have to believe that my son is sitting in the most peaceful place we can imagine and that he is feeling utter and divine love. That little belief and knowing I'll see Collin again is what helps me get through my darkest hours.
I love you Collin. I miss you so much. I pray that my family finds peace. I pray I can reslove my two "personalities" one day.
Over the last 8 weeks, I've not had much interest in going back to church. We decided to start back again today; however our church was having "baby dedication" day today. Both Manny and I felt like we weren't emotionally prepared to sit through everyone dedicating their LIVING children to a life of Jesus. It is a great decision, but we weren't ready for seeing it today. Afterall, we have given one of our children to God in the most literal sense. My faithful side realizes that God has called Collin for a special purpose. But my angry side wants him here on Earth with us. We decided to go to a friend's church. Everyone was welcoming and friendly. I'm still going through major anxiety with crowds of people. (My "before Collin" self loved meeting new people and making friends), but seeing new people in a crowded setting gives me horrible anxiety. I guess I'm afraid of running into people I know and having to explain why my son isn't here with us. Or I'm afraid of getting the question "how many children do you have?" It's such an innocent question, but it's one I can no longer bring myself to ask others. How do I answer? Do I say five and then have to explain that one is in heaven? Then that person feels terrible. Do I say four? Then it seems like I'm not honoring the existence of my son, Collin? It's one of those questions that I dread being asked. I want to retreat into a shell. And of course someone DID ask today. And wouldn't you know, out of all the seats available in the church, a pregnant woman comes and sits directly in front of us. There's constant reminders around us that we no longer have Collin.
Anyhow, back to church....yes,everyone was pleasant and I had an anxiety attack. We go in and listen to the worship choir sing. The pastor starts his sermon. I'd already started crying before the pastor could even begin preaching. One of his messages was to "surrender your worries, pains, and fears to Jesus". My faithful side says "I need to let it go, give it to God", but my angry side kicks in and almost makes me roll my eyes. Horrible! I literally feel the battle within myself. Today, being the first day back in church, was so overwhelming that I almost had to get up and walk out. (If it weren't for Manny's arms around me, I would have) I cried throughout the entire sermon. I thought to myself...I can't do this. I can't come back to God while I'm so angry. How can he fix me? Why would he want to fix me? When will he fix me? When will this pain go away? Do I want it to go away? How can I be worthy of His love and grace when I feel so angry with Him?
What I do know is that I desperately need my ever faithful friends to help bring me back to Jesus. I need them to lean on. I need their guidance throughout this storm. I've come to realize that all of this, my anxiety, depression, anger, scatterbrained-ness, hopelessness, battles with my faith, are all part of my Journey through Losing a Child. I know I'm not alone in this journey. I also have to believe that my son is sitting in the most peaceful place we can imagine and that he is feeling utter and divine love. That little belief and knowing I'll see Collin again is what helps me get through my darkest hours.
I love you Collin. I miss you so much. I pray that my family finds peace. I pray I can reslove my two "personalities" one day.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
"What If"?
As I've stated many times since losing Collin, "what if" will be a question that haunts me until the end of my life. I think it's natural for any mother to ask "what if" something could have been different? What if I had demanded that the doctor come in to see me on that Saturday? What if the doctor had diagnosed my pre-eclampsia prior to his death? What if my doctor had been on call? What if I had listened to the nurse and gone home and "performed my marital duties' as suggested? What if I had gone back the next day when I had horrible intuition about something being wrong with Collin? What if you were born alive? Would my life be normal, because my new life has a whole different meaning of "normalcy" these days. Ha, "normalcy"-that's to be discussed in a later blog post.
A co-worker of my mothers had the audacity to ask her "if I'm over it yet because it's been enough time and I have four other children"? In response she was asked "what if you had to choose one of your kids to send to heaven, which one would you choose?" She was dumbfounded. Of course she couldn't choose one of her own children to die. What parent could? So, why is it expected of me to "get over it" just because my son was a stillborn baby? Is his life any less important than that of my four other living children? I think not! He was created out of love. He was deeply wanted and anticipated. I protected him for 38 weeks and I grew to know his personality even as he grew inside my belly. How could I love him any less than my other four? I understand that not everyone feels that I should "be over it" by now, but you'll always run across the few ignorant people who deem a baby's death as less horrific or significant than an older child's death. Either is any parent's worst nightmare and hell to live through. Until someone has actually lost a child, they have no conception of what it is like.
I calmed down and asked myself another very powerful "what if" question. "what if I could do it all over again, would I"? Of course I wish the outcome could have been totally different, but given the choice between losing Collin or never have been pregnant with him to begin with; what would I choose"? Had I never been pregnant with Collin it would certainly spare me and my family a lifetime of pain. But, plainly stated, if I chose the latter then I wouldn't have the privilege of being HIS mother , knowing him and loving him unconditionally. Even though he was born "sleeping", I cherished every second I spent with him. Because of the circumstances I had to love him enough in that little amount of time to tide me over until I meet him again someday. Imagine having to love your child for only hours. That's how much time we were given to shower him with affection. I wholeheartedly wish that I could have HIM now, but God has chosen him for a purpose beyond our comprehension. He is a perfectly formed angel called by God to fullfill a greater mission. I am proud to call Collin Xavier my son, my fifth child. He is loved as much as each one of his brothers and sisters. None of their lives or his are any more significant than the other. So when I'm asked "what if" you'd never been pregnant.....then I have to say-I'd do it again in a heartbeat even if it means I have to spend the rest of my life living with my grief. I don't want to survive my grief, I want to learn to live with it, because that grief is proof of my abounding love for a child that I'll never know.
Tiny AngelsTiny Angels rest your wings
A co-worker of my mothers had the audacity to ask her "if I'm over it yet because it's been enough time and I have four other children"? In response she was asked "what if you had to choose one of your kids to send to heaven, which one would you choose?" She was dumbfounded. Of course she couldn't choose one of her own children to die. What parent could? So, why is it expected of me to "get over it" just because my son was a stillborn baby? Is his life any less important than that of my four other living children? I think not! He was created out of love. He was deeply wanted and anticipated. I protected him for 38 weeks and I grew to know his personality even as he grew inside my belly. How could I love him any less than my other four? I understand that not everyone feels that I should "be over it" by now, but you'll always run across the few ignorant people who deem a baby's death as less horrific or significant than an older child's death. Either is any parent's worst nightmare and hell to live through. Until someone has actually lost a child, they have no conception of what it is like.
I calmed down and asked myself another very powerful "what if" question. "what if I could do it all over again, would I"? Of course I wish the outcome could have been totally different, but given the choice between losing Collin or never have been pregnant with him to begin with; what would I choose"? Had I never been pregnant with Collin it would certainly spare me and my family a lifetime of pain. But, plainly stated, if I chose the latter then I wouldn't have the privilege of being HIS mother , knowing him and loving him unconditionally. Even though he was born "sleeping", I cherished every second I spent with him. Because of the circumstances I had to love him enough in that little amount of time to tide me over until I meet him again someday. Imagine having to love your child for only hours. That's how much time we were given to shower him with affection. I wholeheartedly wish that I could have HIM now, but God has chosen him for a purpose beyond our comprehension. He is a perfectly formed angel called by God to fullfill a greater mission. I am proud to call Collin Xavier my son, my fifth child. He is loved as much as each one of his brothers and sisters. None of their lives or his are any more significant than the other. So when I'm asked "what if" you'd never been pregnant.....then I have to say-I'd do it again in a heartbeat even if it means I have to spend the rest of my life living with my grief. I don't want to survive my grief, I want to learn to live with it, because that grief is proof of my abounding love for a child that I'll never know.
Tiny AngelsTiny Angels rest your wings
sit with me for awhile.
How I long to hold your hand,
And see your tender smile.
Tiny Angel, look at me,
I want this image clear....
That I will forget your precious face
Is my biggest fear.
Tiny Angel can you tell me,
Why you have gone away?
You weren't here for very long....
Why is it, you couldn't stay?
Tiny Angel shook his head,
"These things I do not know....
But I do know that you love me,
And that I love you so".
Author Unknown
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Eyes Wide Shut
My inclination was to always shield my children from the subject of "death". I felt it was too "scary" of a subject to talk about with them. I titled this Eyes Wide Shut because that's exactly how I was with the subject of death. My eyes were open to the fact that it existed, but I always shut out the subject with my children. I by no means expect all parents to feel the same way I do. It IS a scary subject. Since we lost our precious Collin, my kids have been exposed to so much. They see their mother crying daily-sometimes I'm in hysterics. They see their parents' anger. They see us praying. They hear us talking about "what ifs" and "how do we go on?" The scariest of all...they saw their still, lifeless brother in a baby casket.
When Collin passed away one of our worries was how do we explain this to our children? They saw mommy pregnant and now I've gone to the hospital to have the baby, but he won't be coming home. Their expereince with death has only been with the over-fed goldfish that my mother in law insists on giving them. What do we tell them? How do we explain this? The first thing we did was AVOID it altogether. Manny didn't come home on that Monday night until they were in bed. He left the next day before them, as to not have to tell them anything. (Again, eyes were shut) We kept them home from school on that Tuesday with fear that someone might accidently tell them something about Collin. We didn't know how to handle the situation. What parent would?? Not only did we have to worry about our devastation, but our childrens' emotional well being.
I was released from the hospital the day after Collin was stillborn. We immediately went to the funeral home and planned his funeral. Again, we wanted to shield the kids from seeing him. I was determined that he was going to be buried the same day as his funeral service. But, God works in HIS way. He had another plan. He gave us time to be with Collin at the funeral home. We were able to hold him and touch him for several days. It gave us time to decide that it WAS right for the kids to see him. Because they've never been exposed to or talked to about death, this was SCARY for them. I'll admit, I never thought that I could hold something that no longer had its spirit. But when it's your child....your shut eyes open VERY wide!!! I wanted to look at every inch of his perfect body. I wanted to kiss him all over. And I did!
Cade and Caleb looked at him from afar. Chloe touched him and later held him. We took pictures (which I'm eternally grateful for now) with him. I sometimes feel we didn't take enough of him!!! Death now had a face-their little brother.
Collin's service and burial was the first experience with death that my kids have been exposed to. It now leaves them with the question "wow, if Collin can die, can I?" Chloe asked me that question as we walked through the cemetery yesterday. In the past, my answer would have been "oh Chloe, don't worry about things like that. That won't happen for MANY years" Today my answer is "we never know what the future holds for us. We hope to have a long life here on Earth, but the truth is we never know. We need to appreciate every second we have here. And our future is certain that we will meet Collin again and experience the GREATEST love and happiness that we've ever known-in Heaven".
I've now started REALLY talking to my kids about the importance of living every moment and appreciating thier life. It's something I'm struggling to do at the moment. I know Collin is in a happy place, but the selfish side of me wants him here with us. Now as part of my kids' summer routine, we go visit the cemetery at least three times a week. We walk around and fix flowers on other's graves. We talk about proper etiquette at a cemetery-don't ever walk across graves. We look at dates and talk about the people's lives that are buried at Ft. Sam. We notice how many are children, taken too soon. We look at others who have served our country bravely. Somehow, even with death all around us, it's a peaceful place.
Losing Collin isn't a blessing, but the lessons he is teaching us are profound. I can no longer say that my family's EYES are WIDE SHUT....we live with death daily and all that it entails. But, we also live with the promise that we will someday meet our son in Heaven.
We love you Collin. We miss you every second of every day.
When Collin passed away one of our worries was how do we explain this to our children? They saw mommy pregnant and now I've gone to the hospital to have the baby, but he won't be coming home. Their expereince with death has only been with the over-fed goldfish that my mother in law insists on giving them. What do we tell them? How do we explain this? The first thing we did was AVOID it altogether. Manny didn't come home on that Monday night until they were in bed. He left the next day before them, as to not have to tell them anything. (Again, eyes were shut) We kept them home from school on that Tuesday with fear that someone might accidently tell them something about Collin. We didn't know how to handle the situation. What parent would?? Not only did we have to worry about our devastation, but our childrens' emotional well being.
I was released from the hospital the day after Collin was stillborn. We immediately went to the funeral home and planned his funeral. Again, we wanted to shield the kids from seeing him. I was determined that he was going to be buried the same day as his funeral service. But, God works in HIS way. He had another plan. He gave us time to be with Collin at the funeral home. We were able to hold him and touch him for several days. It gave us time to decide that it WAS right for the kids to see him. Because they've never been exposed to or talked to about death, this was SCARY for them. I'll admit, I never thought that I could hold something that no longer had its spirit. But when it's your child....your shut eyes open VERY wide!!! I wanted to look at every inch of his perfect body. I wanted to kiss him all over. And I did!
Cade and Caleb looked at him from afar. Chloe touched him and later held him. We took pictures (which I'm eternally grateful for now) with him. I sometimes feel we didn't take enough of him!!! Death now had a face-their little brother.
Collin's service and burial was the first experience with death that my kids have been exposed to. It now leaves them with the question "wow, if Collin can die, can I?" Chloe asked me that question as we walked through the cemetery yesterday. In the past, my answer would have been "oh Chloe, don't worry about things like that. That won't happen for MANY years" Today my answer is "we never know what the future holds for us. We hope to have a long life here on Earth, but the truth is we never know. We need to appreciate every second we have here. And our future is certain that we will meet Collin again and experience the GREATEST love and happiness that we've ever known-in Heaven".
I've now started REALLY talking to my kids about the importance of living every moment and appreciating thier life. It's something I'm struggling to do at the moment. I know Collin is in a happy place, but the selfish side of me wants him here with us. Now as part of my kids' summer routine, we go visit the cemetery at least three times a week. We walk around and fix flowers on other's graves. We talk about proper etiquette at a cemetery-don't ever walk across graves. We look at dates and talk about the people's lives that are buried at Ft. Sam. We notice how many are children, taken too soon. We look at others who have served our country bravely. Somehow, even with death all around us, it's a peaceful place.
Losing Collin isn't a blessing, but the lessons he is teaching us are profound. I can no longer say that my family's EYES are WIDE SHUT....we live with death daily and all that it entails. But, we also live with the promise that we will someday meet our son in Heaven.
We love you Collin. We miss you every second of every day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)