Grief is a different animal, it can grab you when you least expect it. It occurred to me this morning, that I buried my son yesterday. I woke up this morning and the physical manifestations of being a new mother are a little cruel. Michael was born less than 4 days ago and I have been so busy, but today, today is a little harder - my body still thinks I have a baby to take care of. The girls really are doing well. Abbi is not in any of the photos with Michael and she is sad about that, but because of the cord accident, he was very blue when he was born and it upsetting to her so we did not push her to stay.
New Years Eve was quiet. I went out to get a dress for the funeral and then realized I was having some blood pressure issues, apparently these can be residual issues for up to 6 weeks, so I ended up in bed for the evening and Bill took the girls to my brother and sister in laws house for dinner. They picked up sparkling grape juice on the way home and we watched Dick Clark in bed and rang in the New Year all together. We had to be up early the next morning for Michael's funeral.
God took our baby back. Michael was always God's and I do realize this, but I still miss him. I miss his soft skin and his sweet little hands and his toes, I loved his toes. He had perfect little ears and little teeny tiny lips and long, long legs. He just looked so sweet and peaceful. I am not going to try to fool myself, this is hard, but I had a long time to prepare, so the element of shock is not as searing. The funeral itself was really nice. My brother sang Ave Maria and that made me cry, but I assure you those were happy tears. Michaels service actually was on a Holy Day. The service was so nice, the girls did well and quite a few of our friends and family made it to the service as well.
After the service a man walked up to Bill and he looked so concerned. He was an older gentleman and he wanted to talk with us. I was not sure what he was going to say and then I realized he didn't want to talk with us, he needed to. He told Bill he had lost his little girl to the same thing Michael had and that he knew what we were going through. He was visibly distraught. He had lost her probably 30 years ago but it appeared so fresh. It occured to me after much thought that when people hear about Michael (or any child with this condition) it probably really does bring all of those memories right back no matter how far away it was. While this may seem sad, as Michael's mother, the one thing I fear is that I will forget things about him (thus the blog) so while my heart hurt for him, I found some hope in remembering Michael. The girls handed out packets of Forget Me Not seeds to be planted in the spring, but my sister in law actually found "Michaels Tree" seeds and gave them to me at the end. I can not beleive she found them. I want to find a very prominent place in my yard for these so I can always look out and see this tree growing. I want to grieve and find a way to live with this and remember without being sad... Those are a few balls to juggle, and although I am sad, I have almost been feeling a little guilty almost because I feel like I did a lot of my grieving before Michael died. I mourned the loss of the son I had envisioned and fell in love with the son God gave us and knew he would eventually take back.
New Years Eve was quiet. I went out to get a dress for the funeral and then realized I was having some blood pressure issues, apparently these can be residual issues for up to 6 weeks, so I ended up in bed for the evening and Bill took the girls to my brother and sister in laws house for dinner. They picked up sparkling grape juice on the way home and we watched Dick Clark in bed and rang in the New Year all together. We had to be up early the next morning for Michael's funeral.
God took our baby back. Michael was always God's and I do realize this, but I still miss him. I miss his soft skin and his sweet little hands and his toes, I loved his toes. He had perfect little ears and little teeny tiny lips and long, long legs. He just looked so sweet and peaceful. I am not going to try to fool myself, this is hard, but I had a long time to prepare, so the element of shock is not as searing. The funeral itself was really nice. My brother sang Ave Maria and that made me cry, but I assure you those were happy tears. Michaels service actually was on a Holy Day. The service was so nice, the girls did well and quite a few of our friends and family made it to the service as well.
After the service a man walked up to Bill and he looked so concerned. He was an older gentleman and he wanted to talk with us. I was not sure what he was going to say and then I realized he didn't want to talk with us, he needed to. He told Bill he had lost his little girl to the same thing Michael had and that he knew what we were going through. He was visibly distraught. He had lost her probably 30 years ago but it appeared so fresh. It occured to me after much thought that when people hear about Michael (or any child with this condition) it probably really does bring all of those memories right back no matter how far away it was. While this may seem sad, as Michael's mother, the one thing I fear is that I will forget things about him (thus the blog) so while my heart hurt for him, I found some hope in remembering Michael. The girls handed out packets of Forget Me Not seeds to be planted in the spring, but my sister in law actually found "Michaels Tree" seeds and gave them to me at the end. I can not beleive she found them. I want to find a very prominent place in my yard for these so I can always look out and see this tree growing. I want to grieve and find a way to live with this and remember without being sad... Those are a few balls to juggle, and although I am sad, I have almost been feeling a little guilty almost because I feel like I did a lot of my grieving before Michael died. I mourned the loss of the son I had envisioned and fell in love with the son God gave us and knew he would eventually take back.
