Thursday, June 2, 2016

It's Been Awhile

I devoted so much time creating this blog in the wake of losing Trey.  As a matter of fact, I created this blog after chronicling my grief over Facebook as an effort to appease those who were afraid of asking me how I was doing. I told myself I would stop after a year but the response to my honesty and candor inspired me to create Angel Steps as a tribute to our son, in tribute to him.  In the years that followed I found peace in sharing the raw honesty of grieving my child and the blessings that came along with it.  

I was able to channel my journey through this blog throughout my pregnancy and experience with our daughter until she was about age 1.  That's when I got deterred from chronicling my grief journey with the excuse that I was busy with our living child.  It's no excuse.  I can't count how many times I have had a great idea for a blog and never followed through.  So many wonderful outlets and opportunities wasted because I was "too busy".

To that end I apologize to those who appreciate what I have to say, those who identify with my journey, and, least of all, to myself.

I often sit by myself having conversations with Trey or with the universe.  These are things I want to say to everyone but I feel selfish in taking HAPPY time away from my family and my husband to steal away time to express them.

In my time away from this blog I haven't been blessed to celebrate so many rainbow babies and tributes to Angel Babies but I have not shared them.  After all, this was my vision when I created Angel Steps.  In my time away I have even had to change the website name because my credit card expired and somebody claimed my original domain.

I only have myself to apologize to yet hold myself accountable for.  Life has brought so much stress but, more so, much fulfillment since he grew his wings.  He is forever with me through every hill and valley, every volcano and hurricane.  And that is what I have been focusing on but there is still a plug I have put in place in regards to my sorrow over our son and my expression of it.

Things have changed.  My grief has changed.  My faith has changed.

My love for him will only grow.

I need only share it more.  Take the time to heal through my own words.

In time...

Thursday, March 24, 2016

Never Really Mine

It's hard to admit but I never really bonded Trey the way I imagined I would.  The way I imagined most mothers do. The truth is I only had 36 weeks to squeeze in a lifetime of bonding.  Two of those weeks were spent in hospitals trying not to go crazy with worry about what was happening to our little bit.  While most mothers are enjoying skin-to-skin and weathering breastfeeding at all hours of the day and night, I had to settle for pumping in a small sterile room alone wondering if and when my son would enjoy the fruits of my labor.  Long awaited skin-to-skin was replaced with 5 minutes of positioning, tube maneuvering, cord wrestling and iv avoidance to be sure that he was safe and comfortable. Leaving the hospital as a duo instead of a family of three was not the norm but our reality, and a devastating one at that.  Nearly two weeks of worry and increasingly daunting news does not foster bonding. Then the time we thought we had with him was cut short.

This pity party is brought to you by the fact that I was merely a vessile to carry his failing body. 

To be clear, he is and always will be out son and first born.

That train of thought leaves the station and at the first stop is met with the folks that believe in "the plan".  So if this was "the plan" all along, was he ever really mine?

Next stop, the town where "everything happens for a reason" is the town motto.  Well, if everything happens for a reason, was he ever really mine?

Yet another stop where

Now into a city of hope and a promise that you will have more children.  if I was only supposed to have other children that are living, was he ever really mine?

There is no end of the line, this train of thought rose is truly a round
 trip and I can never get off.  And as I travel around and around a lake of grief I can't help but wonder if he was ever really mine.

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.