Signs...

Wednesday already...and I am so behind on writing. Can't seem to get my thoughts straight or in one place long enough to write about all the stuff that has happened.

This week started with me thinking about school. For the last 3 years I have been getting a classroom ready. One more reason I feel different and out-of-place. My thoughts have been on missing that routine, the fresh start of a new school year...and all the distractions back to school brings.

I miss it.
Along with so much more.

So it was good that there was also Support Group on Monday. I needed to talk. It was the first one at the hospital where I was for so many weeks. Where all the drama happened. And there was a special person there at group that brought such a flood of memories.

The nurse who was with us that entire Saturday night.

The nurse that witnessed the hardest thing Tim and I have ever had to do. We had to hand our beautiful baby over to her at the end of that night. She was the last person I saw holding him. And giving Will to her and knowing that we would never see him again was...I honestly have no words.

How do you actually make yourself do that? And then walk away? Getting myself to do it was nearly impossible. And then there was Tim. He was not ready to let go of his son. I couldn't watch it. It was just too painful.

But seeing her again was not painful. In fact, when we hugged I felt like she was an old friend, and I felt closer to Will...and that was such a blessing.

Because she knew him...and met him,
and not many people got that chance.

So even though I didn't get to talk much, or say what I needed to say at group, seeing her again was worth the trip there. Because there were moments when I wanted to scream at a particular person something I use to tell my students, "God gave us two ears and one mouth for a reason...You are supposed to listen at LEAST twice as much as you should talk."
Then I found out she was a teacher. Seriously? Go figure :) Anyways, I go to group to be able to talk and get stuff out, not be interrupted a million times.

So to keep from leaving on a frustrated note, I stopped upstairs to my old stomping grounds. It was so nice to see some of the nurses that took such good care of us and laugh at some of the odd and goofy stuff that happened while we waited for Will.

And then I heard the comment again: "You should write a book."

Okay. So this is an easy thing to laugh off...even when tons of people have said something of the sorts to me. I never seriously considered putting this whole journey, all the funny and tragic moments, into a story. Then my thoughts go to, okay I actually write this book and then what? I don't have a clue about how to even begin searching on how to publish it. And then today I walked past a little sign that had hung in my classroom all last year, but this morning it just struck me:

When I stand before God at the end of my life I would hope that I would have not a single bit of talent left and could say, "I used everything you gave me." Erma Bombeck

It made me feel guilty. Then even more pushing. I feel as if God is saying, "Still not convinced, Julie?" Just now I take a break from writing this blog to check my email and find an email from amazon.com and what is the only thing it is advertising to me?

The Writer Magazine.
And on the cover?
Self Publishing and everything you need to know.

I couldn't make this stuff up. Seriously... I'm not that creative.

Weekend #5

First weekend since Will died with no plans. We didn't know what to do with ourselves.

The only thing about our house that has been driving me crazy is the upstairs room that had all of Will's things in it. Perfect weekend to fix that.
The nursery that will never be. I couldn't stare at the empty room anymore.
So we moved the desk and computer stuff up from the basement.
Now it is an office. Talk about crap timing.

When we moved, we talked about how we would leave the crib and changing table box in the garage...and put it all together in time for the long weekend. Then Labor Day weekend we would put together all the finishing touches.
I would have never guessed it would end up an office...and just in time for Labor Day weekend.
Instead of excitedly getting ready for baby we will be running off to Chicago instead.

And I say running because that is what I am doing.
Running away from all this sadness and pain. All of our plans...and dreams.
I need to get out of here for awhile and staying home for that weekend would be the worst possible thing. So off we go.

We are hoping that a weekend away will do us some good. Both of us are wondering just what will become of us...and this really sad existence we feel.
Only one word to describe it: Empty.

Storms

Finally.

A rainy, cloudy, crappy day.

No sunshine in sight. Only the rumble of distant thunder.

And I am thankful for it.

I don't know why I take comfort in days like this (In January I'm sure I'll be whistling a different tune). Maybe because I won't feel guilty staying in my pajamas all day, picking up the house, and just generally doing nothing. 

Except thinking about Will.

The last day it stormed here was the night before he was born...if only we would have known what exactly was to come. It was such a beautiful storm front that the picture above I took from my hospital room. Our friends were visiting from CA, but of course they were up at Mackinac Island this night, and were so disappointed they missed the storm. Hmm.

What is that saying?

"The calm before the storm"

Yeah, well, those 8 weeks in the hospital were anything but calm. 

Physically, yes, because I was a prisoner in a tiny room and leaving it meant I was in a wheelchair.

But emotionally and spiritually, the storm was already raging (just ask my nurses).

Now its just been a hurricane since. Full force.

But at least yesterday was calm. I could function and think without feeling an anxiety attack coming on. I have moments when I think of Will and my throat feels like its closing and my chest hurts and my nose and eyes sting with tears. Those are my least favorite times...

Yesterday was different though. 

I woke up and read my devotional and started a new routine. Every morning I write to Will in a journal. I don't care if that sounds crazy or what...it helps. And I have found that I have a lot to say to him...and I realized that I have been beating myself up with a lot of regrets and feeling of guilt about so many things. 

When I write it out to him, it eases those feelings.

And by letting myself get it all out, first thing, means the volcano won't blow later in the day.

I'm not fighting it any more. I know I will cry. So I let it come. No more stuffing it deep down and hoping I can make it through one day without shedding a tear. 

By doing this, I found the last two days I have actually felt okay...

I was able to meet a new friend and talk about Will and her loses, all without completely breaking down.

And I was able to sign up for a yoga class that is going to start on Will's due date...and not get a deep bitter feeling.

And I was able to set some personal work goals for myself and actually feel a twinge of motivation when I thought about what I could achieve...and not get that feeling of not caring at all.

Through it all, life and everything else has to continue. Even if I don't want it to without Will here. So I can either fight it or take a deep breath and learn how to adapt to this new life I've been given.

Small steps. Steps of faith...that I have to trust there is a purpose. 

A plan. 

A reason...

Aug. 19

These last few days have been intense. Its so hard to believe and recall what happened a month ago today. It seems unfathomable. But they said dates would be hard...anniversaries too.

At times it seems to hurt more now.

Because I am no longer in shock...and as each day goes on, reality sets in just a little more than the day before.

So it will get worse before it gets better.

Grief is strange. One would think that each day would get easier since Will's passing. That as time goes on, everything would start falling into place and become bearable.

It just doesn't work that way.

There are no rules.

No stages of sadness.

No timelines.

It just starts each day with putting one foot in front of the other...and finding something, anything, that matters. Even if its only for that day...and sometimes I have to start even smaller than that~ I have to find something that matters for only that moment.

Something that my energy can be put into that would make a person feel productive again.

Will was my purpose.

Now I don't have one.

And I have to find one.

And I am not going to read Rick Warren's "Purpose Driven Life" again. Because it won't help.

And that is my problem. I'm beginning to resent this emotional roller coaster.

Up and down...but seriously...its been heading down for such a long time, I'm ready for it to go up.

The only thing that will help...is time...and for now, sharing the few memories and pictures I have of Will.

And so I cling to my faith that things HAVE to get better...they just have to...

Every day I write, talk to Will, pray, read a devotional...and then repeat that numerous times. Some days are okay. Then I have moments where I completely panic.

My brain keeps playing over our last day with Will. All the "what ifs" and remembering different little details...

Like when the doctor was standing beside Will's bed telling us he was going to die and didn't have a chance of survival...I was sitting there filling out his "Humble Bumble Baby Book" that the A.V.C.S. staff had given me before we left. I was literally writing his birth date on the front cover page...and I remember looking at it and thinking in my head if I should write it like this:

    July 17, 2008-July 19, 2008

I didn't panic then. Not yet.

That panic was pushed aside by disbelief...by shock that this wasn't really happening.

And now that panic has found its way to the surface.

What gets me the most is the thought of his little heart. It was perfect and it was strong. Every day in the hospital I would listen to it on the monitor for 20 minutes first thing in the morning and 20 minutes at night. Many people who visited were able to listen with me.

I just got use to hearing it. And after he died and I was going through a box of things the NICU had sent home with us...I found it.

His last heartbeat strip.

His steady heartbeat shown in a perfect pattern on a long strip of paper. His name at the beginning...July 19, 2008 under it...and then the time 5:08 p.m....the last moments before they removed him from all the equipment.

It was only then that I realized it was no longer beating...

When that little heart began to beat...I don't know exactly when.

And when that little heart stopped beating...we don't know exactly when.

All that matters is we were together from the beginning to the end.

In these moments when sadness is literally suffocating, I know eventually the pain will dull.

But I am convinced that the rest of my life will consist of being... almost happy.

One Month

Sweet baby...you would have been 1 month old today...

We loved him from the moment we saw him (goofy hat and all).

That day at 1:59 p.m. our lives were forever changed.

Will fought from the moment he entered this world,

And as his parents, we fight to continue on and live each day without him.

The sky...

There are so many errands to do...the store, bank, post office...

But I can't bring myself to leave this house. And I really don't care about any of it.

This morning started out fine. But then I look at his picture and I just can't believe this is happening...and nothing I say or do or pray will ever bring him back. 

And I just miss him so much.

A strange thing has happened here. Every single day since Will's birth has been sunny. Sure, it has rained some but then the sky clears and its big and blue and has fluffy white clouds...and all I can think about is Will, laying there in his little blue kimono. 

The blue is the same as the outfit. The blue sky is the same as his eyes.

In Michigan it is never this sunny and perfect for so many days in a row, and then I question if I will ever be able to look at the sky again and not be sad...maybe someday...but not for a really long time.

And so it goes. 

Last night was our first support group at the hospital. It was nice to meet other parents. Someone who understands this unique loss...but all at such different stages. 

Some have lost recently, for others it has been many years. 

All I know is we have such a long journey ahead of us. 

A journey where we will never reach a destination. Because this will never go away, never get better. Not unless I wake up and it was all a bad dream.

I consider this a walk that we will be traveling until our very last moments.

I just wish I could get another moment from those few short hours we had with Will...

one more moment just to hold him. 

To touch his face and pull him close and whisper how much I love him. 

Even just a moment when I was laying pregnant in that hospital bed, just him and me...

and I would touch where is head was and talk to him.

He was such a huge part of me before he was even born.

Instead, all I can do now is look up to that blue sky and hope that he can hear me wherever he is.

Therapy.

I'm back home in G.R.

Sophie and I had a good Midwestern road trip. The openness somewhat cleared my mind and let me have some classic, pre-Will Julie thoughts...such as:

     "Why are the roads called freeways in CA and highways in Michigan? It seems totally backwards to me...because in Michigan they really are freeways with the wide open spaces and the ability to actually use cruise control allows your mind to be free. And then in CA you literally have to be high to have any desire to travel along the "freeways" and not freak out because of all the traffic and rudeness."

Yes. Part of me is coming back to life. Scary.

Getting out of here is just what I needed. Especially after my reunion this weekend (which had a very poor turnout by the way, literally 15 people out my class of 300. Although it was nice to see 2 old friends and then hang out all night with another). 

It was great to see family and be in a different environment in Ohio. I'm also pressing the idea that my Opa, dad, and I should travel to Germany (I want to see just where my family is from) sometime in the near future. Plus, I met some other really great people and...I found the one and only Trader Joe's on my side of the state in Ann Arbor.

I loaded up on the way home. Very exciting. So overall, a successful trip for numerous reasons.

Being back in the house is hard though (even though I was only gone 2 nights it feels like a lot more). Its still and quiet. I walk by what was to be Will's room and get that sick feeling back. Tonight we have our first support/counseling group at the hospital. We'll see how that goes.

Bottom line is I need to get ready to work again. I have to do something for myself and that is to get up, brush off, and begin to do something so I feel useful. I'm not done being sad by any means, but thinking about subbing in a few weeks and doing some other work is going to have to be what gets me out of bed each day.

I'm not avoiding grieving with Will, but I can't sit around all day holding his picture and crying either.

He would want me not only to live, but to enjoy life like he never got the chance to do.

That much I owe him.