Friday, January 15, 2016


I am a horrible mommy.  I am a coward.  I am weak.  I gave up on him unknowingly.  I let myself be lied to.  I believed the lies.  I didn't persecute the guilty.  I couldn't handle making sure those responsible remembered and were responsible for their injustice.  I did not look at myself from the inside out so that I could be there with him as he died.  My husband chose to be with me, his coward wife, when he wanted to be with his son when he passed.  I begged to see him after I birthed him but was too quick to see him beyond the machines.  I worshipped every moment with him to the fault that I was afraid to lose him.  I let him rest when they told me he had to be calmed down after our visits.  I should've strengthened his heart with my presence.  I let him down when I thought he was waiting for us to let him go.  I live on wondering if the reason why my husband won't talk about it anymore is because I was too chicken shit to be there when our son died that he felt an obligation to be with me.  I am guilty of not spending every moment I could with him.  I carry on a legacy of a little man I don't even know.  I carried him my womb and treasured every moment he was in my arms.  Part of me knew.  That should've made me want to be there more.  I am a horrible mommy.  I am a coward.  I am weak.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

It Bleeds

My grief bleeds in an unsteady flow depending on the grip of the tourniquet holding the flow and how large the emotional injury is.

There are those that probably think I pick the scar to make it bleed but the truth is it itches daily and only through itching am I able to cope.

My heart bleeds into my veins and arteries to feed my every cell so that the muscles in my legs can take one foot in front of the other through the marshes of my journey.

My bruises internally bleed due to the compression my supposedly thick skin provides until only deep soul penetration allows the pressure to be released.

Tears that I bleed flow for all of what is lost and the pride I have for him yet there is no tissue is strong enough to hold the oceans of brine they contain.

My thoughts bleed from a persistently perplexed brain that struggles to understand why something like this could happen, much less to me.

There are daydreams and nightmares that bleed from my soul of what could've been, who he would be and his everlasting freedom in Heaven.

My conscientiousness bleeds of worry about what he thinks of how my life is turning out but encourages me to speak to him through the atmosphere.

Living bleeds the heavy load and guilt even when the weight gets lighter and others attempt to assuage my regrets.

Sorrow bleeds for other grieving parents whether the wound is momentarily healed or freshly opened because a trauma of this magnitude is unnecessary and a careless act of Nature.

Songs bleed from my mouth and release feelings that swell with love for my Angel Baby one moment the absolute sorrow the next.

The words that I bleed often aren't consistent, often seemingly clotting to form a scab that bursts open at the moment of closure.

My love for my son continuously bleeds and I let it flow freely paying no mind to the disapproval of others.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015


This new song from Adele has the world buzzing and hearts seeping.  The first verse and the chorus touch me, especially "To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart  But it don't matter, it clearly doesn't tear you 
apart Anymore" because of Trey's heart condition.

Hello, it's me
I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet
To go over everything
They say that time's supposed to heal ya, but I ain't done much healing

Hello, can you hear me?
I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be
When we were younger and free
I've forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet

There's such a difference between us
And a million miles

Hello from the other side
I must've called a thousand times
To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done
But when I call you never seem to be home

Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I've tried
To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart
But it don't matter, it clearly doesn't tear you apart

Hello, how are you?
It's so typical of me to talk about myself, I'm sorry
I hope that you're well
Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happened?

It's no secret that the both of us
Are running out of time

So hello from the other side
I must've called a thousand times
To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done
But when I call you never seem to be home

Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I've tried
To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart
But it don't matter, it clearly doesn't tear you apart
Anymore, ooooohh
Anymore, ooooohh
Anymore, ooooohh
Anymore, anymore

Hello from the other side
I must've called a thousand times
To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done
But when I call you never seem to be home

Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I've tried
To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart
But it don't matter, it clearly doesn't tear you apart

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

The ABCs of She

She ADORES her Big Brother Trey.
She BELIEVES he will grant her wishes.
She COLORS pictures of him with us.
She DREAMS about him living with us.
She EMPATHIZES with our sadness.
She FEELS sad about him too.
She GIVES him kisses.
She HELPS decorate his Christmas Tree.
She IS his Little Sister.
She JOTS down his name.
She KNOWS he catches released balloons.
She LOOKS at his pictures.
She MISSES him.
She NEEDS to know about him.
She OFFERS him a spot on her bed.
She PARTICIPATES in family remembrance of him.
She QUALIFIES his existence in our family.
She REQUESTS him to help her.
She SAYS his name.
She TALKS about him.
She UNDERSTANDS that he is now longer sick.
She VISUALIZES him in Heaven.
She WANTS to know more about him.
She EXPECTS to see him in Heaven.
She YELLS jokingly at him when something that happens is strange.
She ZEROES in on the love she feels for him.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Hope Through A Hurricane Makes One Heck Of a Rainbow!!

Infertility has plagued me for as long as I was trying to have children.  As teenagers,and unmarried adults, most have been preached not to have kids out of wedlock.  Yet, some of us never realized how difficult it would be to create the family of our dreams while others seem to pop out babies like Tic Tacs.  My husband and I experienced this stressful and heart breaking scenario as well as many of our friends.

One particular friend has been trying since got married 18 years ago.  She has heard diagnosis after diagnosis, been through a gazillion tests and procedures, and lived with the nightmare that is not being able to conceive children.  Her struggle was 8 times as long as ours yet she never abandoned hope.  Sure there were tough times and bitterness, but most of the time her attitude was positive.

So imagine my joy when she called me a few months ago and told me she was going to be a Mommy via adoption.  I could've broken glass with my high pitch squeal but I was outside.  I felt just as much excitement for her excellent news as I did for both of my kids.

It gets me thinking of our struggle with infertility and losing our first born.  We had to wait what seemed like an eternity to finally have a healthy baby who is EVERY bit as the Rainbow Baby we were hoping to have and more.  Having her makes us appreciate life and its lessons so much more and reminds us to live in the moment.

I am excited beyond measure for my friend to experience the peace after a long battle, the closure of a door which seemed like only a door frame for so long, and the long overdue love shared between parents and a child.  I am so thankful for the woman who is willing to give my friend the true family she has always desired and I look forward to experiencing the wonderful parents they will become.  

Monday, September 14, 2015

Turning Back Time

I have had quite the case of writer's block as of late but an opportunity was presented to me to share our story on another site.  In thinking about what I wanted to share, I looked back at the "The First Year" section of this blog and I barely made it through the first April blogs before I had to fight the urge to sob.  I wanted to reach into the screen and squeeze hope back into my former self.  I wanted to tell her about Lorelei and the great things she is going to do in honor and memory of Trey.  I wanted to comfort her and praise her for sharing her story.

Reading my own story sparked painful memories that I have not thought of in years.  I have come a long way and I would like to think I have helped others through my journey.  I hope that I am doing as well as other people say I seem to be doing.  Sometimes I just don't know.  I am quicker to depression, often find myself listless having little energy to do anything, and spend more time than I would like analyzing situations in my life that don't need as much attention as I give them. I have said it before and I will continue to say grieving NEVER gets easier, it just changes.

I wish I could tell my former self that her dream of having another child would come true, but would I tell her there would be no children after her daughter?  How would that have changed my outlook and attention to my blessings?  Now, I mourn two children, the one I sent to Heaven and the third one I wanted to complete our family.

The grief follows me around and sneaks up on me at the most unexpected times, like a little game.  It is no easier and at times can be even harder than when it started.  I watch school children my son's age go through the halls of my schools and I have to steer my attention away from remembering that he should be in school too.  Our daughter knows about her big brother and has a very healthy attitude about him as a part of the family.

There is still so much of the journey left to go and I feel as if I am out of the woods just not out of the storm.

I wonder what my future self will want to tell me at this moment.  I hope she would say that better things are surely to come and Trey is proud of me.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

In My Shoes

I wear the shoes of a mother who has lost a child.

Give me all of the advice you want but you have never been in my shoes.

My shoes are too small and are suffocating on a daily basis.

Yet at times, they are too big and I struggle to keep my footing.

Sometimes my laces are too short and frayed and I can't tie them so I am unstable on my feet.

Sometime the laces are too long and even if I tie them, I have to avoid tripping on their ends.

There are holes worn in my shoes leaving me open to the very outside elements I am supposed to be protected from.

Inside my shoes are bunyaned tarsals weary from the journey.

When I try to stiffen the discomfort with socks, it only suffocates my feet even more.

The materials in my shoes are flimsy and porous, protecting me from none of the world's hazards.

Sometimes they feel so new, the painful blisters are a reminder.

Everyone else thinks my shoes are sturdy and cool, but my feet know the truth.

They are easily dirtied by the dirt of the world but not easily cleaned.

The heals are sometimes too high for comfort and sometimes too flat for support.

My shoes are not impressive and don't go with any outfit or situation.

Sometimes I want to take them off and walk barefoot, no one wants to see that raw flesh.

But these shoes carry me through my journeys as an Angel Mommy.

They are the only protection I have from the harsh conditions

They are not ones that I would ever choose but they are mine, my badges of courage.

They only fit me, I could never loan them out of give them away.

I wear them daily in all seasons and in any weather.

They are one of a kind, priceless, ageless, forever.

So before you criticize my journey in my shoes, why don't you try them on?