Tag Archives: stillborn

My Complied List of Fears at the One Year Mark of Loss.

Posted on by
Reply

I’m afraid…

for tomorrow and how it holds the worst sentence I ever heard in my life.

that of the fact I have to live without him forever.

one day no one will ever say his name, besides me.

that after this year mark people will wonder why I haven’t started ‘moving on.’

I’ll never be able to give Jensen a sibling.

that if Jensen does have a sibling that I won’t love him or her as much as I love Jensen.

of breaking down in front of everyone on his birthday or any day at all.

that this pain will always be here.

that this pain I feel will go away.

of all the silent birthdays I’ll spend celebrating his life.

stillbirth, miscarriage, and baby loss are still taboo topics.

to welcome a whole new year of babies that don’t go home.

the earth will eventually shatter for holding this much.

of the flashbacks that I know I’ll be facing the next two days.

that I haven’t done enough for Jensen and I’ll never be able to.

to be alone tomorrow and the day after his birthday.

that this is my life.

because I will always try to figure out where it all went wrong.

there will be a day where I stop feeling anything at all.

that my motherhood isn’t valid.

of always living through my worst nightmare.

I’ll never be able to save myself because I couldn’t even do that for him.

for year two.

I’m not ready for any of this, but I know it’s coming.

that he’s seeing me at my weakest, but I hope he’s cheering me on.

07.jpg

The Way Loss Damages the Before. 

Posted on by
Reply

Life after loss is divided by the before and the after. 

When reflecting on the before, one sees innocence, happiness, and wholeness. Losing a child would never happen to them, or that’s what they believed. Each week and scan brought unmeasurable happiness. Motherhood felt so right. The baby that grew so perfectly inside made them feel whole. A person’s whole life felt like it was going just as planned. Nothing imaginable could take those feelings away. Of course there were scary moments, but the worst never actively entered their thoughts. 

The before is filled with dreams and hopes for the future. Whether it’s preparing the baby’s nursery or packing their hospital bag everything felt just right. A mom plans, not only for those immediately after birth moments, but for the rest of their lives. They think of preschool, vacations, graduation, marriage, and even becoming a grandparent. These hopes and dreams shine so brightly, nothing feels like it could dim it. 

Until a person reaches the turning point. 

All of these feelings become numbed, sone even lost. The dreams a parent had for the future gonblank. Darkness sets in and seems to make itself comfortable for a very long time, maybe forever. 

Life is different. The after completely changes the person, but always in bad ways but in ways a person never wish existed. The death of a child doesn’t just change a person’s being, it impacts the outlook of the world. Those happy moments they wished so very deeply would happen to them, never will with their child. This loss isn’t just one single moment, it’s in an infinite number of moments in the after. 

No one would ever wish the after on a person. It breaks the people who live in it everyday. They are exhausted, but know they have to keep fighting. To keep taking those steps their child never will. This time is mentally draining. Although there are certain parts of the after that begin to feel lighter at times, it can change and be heavier at a moments notice. A person who loses their child will forever be in the after. It’s not fixable, nor is there anything ‘bad’ about them being there. 

There’s also moments in the after where a loss parent looks back to the before. These reflections are bittersweet. On one hand, knowing they had these moments and happiness is peaceful. Their life hasn’t always been this way. They can look back and smile that their child was here. No one can take that away either. On the other hand, a person wants to rip the darkness off of them and someone travel back in time. They want to scream at their past selves to get help. To warn them about the storm that’s about to happen. They want to someone change their past when they are lost in these memories. It’s not everyday this happens, been when a grief trigger happens they have to play out. 

Today these grief triggers are playing out for me. 

On this day last year was the last big movements I felt from Jensen. I can remember sitting on my grandfathers couch after feeling like my little babe dropped even more. I was there to get an antique bassinet to keep Jensen in for my room. That day I was on my feet a lot. He felt like he always did though, just a little lower. When I actually sat on the couch he rolled and kicked his feet. A full term baby rolling in your belly definitely gets your attention. 

I remember just sitting back and rubbing where I felt him turn. This moment was peaceful. I was ready to have him in my arms and watch him move while he slept. My arms just laid across my belly, resting where he would be. Almost silently, I sung a lullaby. He seemed to calm when he heard me. I got one more swift kick and felt some small movements afterwards. 

This moment seems sweet to others. It really was at that time, but it’s the last roll I ever felt. The next day he moved. I felt him. My belly didn’t feel like it did on the fourth. He didn’t feel like he was just floating like he did on that morning. 

But the after… it really messes with your mind. 

The weeks following his silent birth I wondered if those last, big movements were are warning to me. Was he telling me to get to the hospital? My mind has forced me to think this was a sign. I hope it wasn’t. If it was, does this make me a bad mom? 

I will always question if I could have saved him. Just like I’ll always wonder who he was and remember the hopes I had for him in the before. 

The Love Letter I Never Read Out Loud to My Son.

Posted on by
Reply

April 1, 2016

Jensen,

After months of waiting, I’m finally going to meet you in sixteen days (supposedly). I wish I could explain to you all my emotions, but I think you will have to feel them for yourself one day. Even though I haven’t met you, just yet, I already know I’ll love you more than anything.

At this moment, I’m sitting at your grandparent’s house, feeling you move in my belly, and watching Finnick be a bad boy. I wanted to write to you just to say how much I love you already. I’m scared I won’t be a good enough mom to you , but I know you’ll help me learn to be the best I can be.

Right now, in my life, I’m twenty-two years old. Last May I graduated college and want to go back to be a teacher. Mostly because it would give\allow me the most time with you. Our house is still under construction, I’m hoping it will be done before your arrival. Your dad and I love each other very much and are always talking about you. Your nursery is almost done and I wish\hope you grow up and love your room as much as I do.

I wish I had more exciting stories to tell you that has happened in the past few months. But I’m trying to stay nice and healthy just for you! I make sure to read the Bible or a children’s book to you everyday. I hope you love to read and write as much as your dad and I do.

Jensen, if I could let you know anything or want you to remember one thing it is: no matter what you do or want to do in your life, I will support you. Growing up is so hard and you will make mistakes. Just know I have made mistakes too and understand. There is nothing you can do for me to stop loving and supporting you. I know your dad feels the same.

I am so excited to finally be able to hold you and kiss your face. I want to see you grow and become the best, little boy you can. I can’t wait to hear you laugh and see you smile. I know you’ll break my heart a few times, but you’ve already made up for it by just being in my life. I can’t wait for you to come home from school and tell me all about your day. I want to know all your likes and dislikes. I can’t wait to travel with you and show you what the world holds. I want you to realize how much everyone cares about you and how much you care right back. I know you have been made with love and care. I am so excited you are my son.

No matter what, I will always be on your side, encouraging, comforting, and loving you. In sixteen days I’ll meet my favorite person and start the best part of my life. And I cannot wait.

I love you very much!

Your Mommy

Remembering the Last Time I Saw My Son Alive.

Posted on by
Reply

It was an early morning, like all my other Thursday scans. My mom and Jensen’s dad had to work, so I had to get Jensen and I to the hospital before ten. Which might not seem like a huge feat, but, remember, he wouldn’t let me eat before ten; even at thirty-seven weeks pregnant. The doctors wanted me to eat before the scans though. Thankfully I quickly found out Jensen had a thing for McDonald’s breakfast. He’d allow orange juice, an egg and cheese bagel, and a hash brown on our early mornings. This morning wasn’t any different.

While eating breakfast and driving to the hospital, he kicked and danced around to Usher. He absolutely loved listening to his songs. Of course I sung to him and was engrossed in our mommy and Jensen time. Smiles and laughs came so freely then. Those were my favorite moments in my life.

The appointment seemed really ordinary. I was noticeably the most pregnant person waiting to go back for the scan. Walking at that point to the wind right out of me, so sitting there waiting was a relief. All the moms in the waiting area talked and shared about their pregnancies. I swear Jensen kicked every time he heard his name. I felt so normal. I took it for granted. My whole life felt like it was falling into place and I was perfectly happy. It just only crossed my mind that it was the last time I talked to people, outside my family and friends about Jensen and motherhood before he was gone.

Our conversation ended when the technician called out my name. I had never had him before, but I saw my bulky folder. Twice a week appointments call for a lot of papers. It took me a minute or two to finally stand, but I made my way towards him. He sprinted walked a whole lot faster to the room than I could waddle, but eventually I got there.

Everything was already set up and he didn’t even warm the ultrasound goo before it went on my belly. I can remember trying to joke with him, but he was trying to get the scan done quickly. All the images were really choppy because of how fast he was moving the wand. The screen showed Jensen moving his hands to his mouth and moving his legs all around. His heart was beating strongly at 132 bpm. He was practicing his breathing and I remember seeing his nose. In all, it last about ten minutes; which was quick considering the past few weeks college students had been observing scans. But he said Jensen looked perfect and didn’t seem at all concerned.

‘You have no worries.’

I’ll never forget him looking right at me and saying that. All my worries went away when I exhaled. My baby was perfectly fine and obviously I had ‘no worries.’

Then I began my trek back to the car. My hands literally had to cradle my belly to carry his weight. Jensen seemed to have gained a pound a day. Well that’s what it felt like in those last weeks. I remember just holding him and humming. When I got out to the parking garage, I felt like he had dropped even lower. I rubbed where I knew he was laying and I whispered as I walked an assuring statement to him.

‘The next time we’re in this hospital, you’ll be born.’

For some reason, I was SO sure he was coming in that next week. I wasn’t being induced or anything like that, but I felt it in my bones. He seemed to be okay with this statement because he nudged me in a way I hadn’t felt before.

I knew my life was going to be forever changed… just not in the way it did.

This day last year was the last time I ever saw my son alive. It’s the beginning of the five days that constantly replay in my head. I’ve talked about flashbacks and reliving the moments before, but on the big, grief days they play out so much more vividly. I can attest, they hurt. Those moments of seeing him move and watching him do everything that he was supposed to do made me so proud.

Being told he was going to be just fine pushed out any bad thoughts I may have had. I was in a blissful state anyways, but it just made me float higher. When I look back and realize how quick the scan actually was, I wish he would have taken more time out for me. Would he have caught something that was wrong? Was there something there that he missed

How does a baby who passed all the tests die in four short days?

The other haunting part of this day was me knowing he’d be born soon. Why couldn’t I have just been induced right then and there? If I had a feeling he’d be coming soon, why didn’t I just go to the hospital? No one knows the answer to what would have happened if one thing had been different. There’s a huge possibility that even if he was taken out early, he still would have died.

It hurts and my brain is still trying to figure out what went wrong.

Until Wednesday, I’ll be writing a lot. There are raw emotions coming to the surface that I need to sort through. All of your support through this year has been amazing. Thank you for bearing with me and allowing me to talk about Jensen and facing (again) the worst moments of my life.

Anxiety Advenutes: Tax Edition. 

Posted on by
Reply

They say every person in your life is sent to you for a purpose. Since Jensen has been born, I’ve met all kinds of beautiful souls that I would never have known if he had lived. Of course if I could have my way, he’d be here, but I know he guides me in the paths of others. No matter if the experience is good or bad, I have learned about my motherhood, self, and grief. With the positive ones, I know he’s looking out for me and I’m so thankful for that. 

A couple weeks ago I wrote a post talking about the anxiety of tax season. It’s one of those unexpected, grief trials a person doesn’t think about until it happens to them. In short, since Jensen did not take a single breath outside my womb, his birth and death are not considered real. I can’t claim that he died, even with a death certificate, and I can’t claim he was born because he doesn’t have a social security number.  When I file, I can’t say I technically, in the eyes of the government, say I have a son. In the mind of a bereaved mother, it’s absolute torture. One of my biggest fears is people forgetting about Jensen, so this feels a lot like that. Going through thirty-eight weeks of pregnancy, labor, and birth to tell me he was never born? Or telling me he didn’t die even though I had to attend my own child’s funeral? 

Yeah, I’m pretty sure all of that happened. 

Just one other thing before I jump into this story… how is it that in a lawmaker’s mind a baby is person at so many weeks. If a person gets an abortion it could be called murder, but since my son died, unexpectedly, that he doesn’t count anymore? That question or thought has been bothering me so much lately. Where is it defined that he is living and if it is at a certain week in pregnancy, then why can’t I claim him? Another reminder, it’s not the fact I want to claim Jensen for money or anything. It’s more of a validation from the outside world that he mattered and he lived. 

Anyways, back to my story. After I set up my appointment, I had a few weeks to get everything gathered up to take. With my anxiety, I kept pushing it off. I didn’t want to see 2016 in a pile of papers when I know how much pain it held. There was so much more that had happened in those twelve months then just what I made and what I spent money on. So, I waited… until the last minute. And when I say last minute I mean literally the morning of. Part of me think it was a good decision because I didn’t have to see the stack of papers, but the rush and hustle of getting them all last minute made the day feel even more high pressure. I even contemplated whether I should go or not. 

Alas, I made it there four minutes late.

They took me to the back right hand office. When I first got in there, I felt like the walls were closing in on me. The lady, I’ll call Kay, was extremely nice and jumped into everything right away. She asked for all my papers and identification. I complied, obviously. All the basic information was answered and then she asked the question. 

“Do you have any kids, dependents, or are you single?”
I took a deep breath before I answered. She had seen Jensen’s name on the insurance paperwork, with one lone box checked in April. So, I just said it. “My only son was stillborn last April, his first birthday is coming up on the fifth.”

It felt like a sigh of relief for me to just say it and have it out in the air. I know he existed and that’s all that mattered. My anxiety released when I said it, until I saw her face. 

She looked at me with deep sorrow and, surprisingly to me, understanding. The first words out of her mouth was, I’m so sorry. Then she told me the story of her daughter and granddaughter. Turns out, her granddaughter was stillborn years ago and she saw the grief her daughter went through afterwards. The years following she watched her daughter and how big this loss feels. Then she told me that daughter ended up passing away too. Another bereaved mother was sitting across the desk from me. Someone who understands the pain of losing a child.

The rest of my anxiety disappeared. 

Throughout the rest of my appointment, she did her very best and looked through all the rules to get me to be able to claim Jensen. Unfortunately we couldn’t claim him, which I knew that would happen. But we were able to freely talk and had this general grief understandment with each other. It made the whole appointment easier for me and I’m sure her. We got done early with our hour and just talked about Jensen, her daughter, and granddaughter. There was no judgement and at the end we just hugged. 

We were just moms, who have been through the worst, but there for each other. 

I really do believe people are sent to us for a purpose. Jensen constantly is watching out for his mom and making sure I’m protected. Even during the situations where anxiety just fills me. There are people who hold the most precious people in their hearts all around us. I’m thankful to be able to share Jensen, my grief, and healing with others. 

We never know who we can help next. 

Owning This Past Year of Motherhood.

Posted on by
Reply

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

With trying to meet new people I hear this question a lot. Most of the time I answer with studying abroad and traveling all by myself. Or buying a house and completely redoing it. Both have been pretty crazy for me to do. Traveling alone has taught me so much about myself and how I handle being lost in a completely different culture. My house, on the other hand, has taught me patience. With ripping from the ceiling to the floor down, then building it all back together taught me patience. Just these two experiences are life changing. They bring about crazy emotions and you do unexpected things you hadn’t planned on before.

This is a sufficient answer. Most people can relate and agree that they’re ‘crazy’ experiences a person can go through. But it wasn’t until the last time someone asked me that I realized I was completely lying each time I answered them. Every time those answers cross my lips, I know I’ve been through something ‘crazier.’ They’re just answers that make me feel like pre-loss, ‘normal’ Danielle.

I should probably clear this up here. Whenever I meet someone new, I’ll let them know about Jensen. But I’m very protective over him. I don’t just throw this whole grief journey at someone, that wouldn’t be fair at all. For the simplicity of conversation though, my go to answers are those two…

Until the last time I answered the question.

As soon as I said my normal response, I blurted out, ‘I just lied to you.’ Which I did. Those aren’t the craziest things I had ever done in my life. The whole last year of having Jensen safe with me for the month of March, the earth-shattering loss of him in April, and then this grief that will stay with me for the rest of my life just flooded my body. I felt like I was going to turn into a puddle and be soaked up by the earth.

Of course while all of that was happening inside of my head, they stood their, quizzically looking at me. I don’t know if they knew what was coming out of them, but I know they could feel my anxiety.

Then I just said it, the truth. The craziest thing I have ever done in my life was knowing I had to give birth to my son that had already passed, then leave him at the hospital while I was realized home. It was the next day when I had to go to the funeral home and plan what I wanted done with his little boy that I had grown and protected for thirty-eight weeks and two days. It was seeing his tiny, blue urn and its flickering flame on the table as the pastor prayed over his soul. Then it’s been every single day of living without him. I wake up each morning and wonder when this is madness is going to finally end.

This past year has been the craziest journey of my life.

From now on, I’m not going to lie when asked this question. I’m going to own this year, Jensen’s first year. My first year of motherhood.

I recognize the good and the bad in every aspect of this grief journey. Each month I go back through and see what challenges I’ve faced and even write down what made me smile. This month isn’t even over yet and I’m telling you it has been the hardest one I’ve faced. The lead up to Christmas and the New Year for me was rough, but nothing compared to this. His upcoming birthday is on my mind every second of the day. It’s the last time I felt him. It’ll be the last time I can say my son was alive last year. I don’t want to forget his weight in my stomach or how it felt when he would get comfortable.

I just wish I could go back.


Today marks fifty whole weeks since Jensen has been gone, but it also marks a special day: World Down Syndrome Day. In honor of today, Jensen bear and I have our crazy socks on and have been thinking of all what Down syndrome meant to me during Jensen’s diagnosis. I met so many amazing mothers and their children that didn’t make me afraid of what I thought my future was going to hold.

 

The Eclectic Pineapple.

Posted on by
Reply

Fun fact, when I was pregnant I thought Jensen would grow up to be someone who builds and plans houses. Mostly because the majority of my pregnancy I was working getting my house completely done before he arrived. Each time I would use the hammer or paint, I could feel his kicks going in motion with the hammer and him stretching when I painted the wall.

Another fun fact, I bought my house only three months before I found out I was pregnant with Jensen. What I thought was going to be a home just for me, turned out to be a home for a small family. Originally Jensen’s room was going to be a guest bedroom that I had all planned out. Instead it became a blue and orange boys room that I absolutely love. His room is the only room in my entire house that has bright colors in it. The rest is very neutral with black, grey, and wood. No matter the room, I loved to decorate and make it feel comfy.

Even with everything that happened, his room is still my favorite to get decorations and furniture for. Besides that pesky futon…BUT I’m constantly on the search for buying things that make my home even more cozy for Jensen and I.

One day, while I was scrolling through social media, I saw these beautiful, bright, watercolor ultrasounds by The Eclectic Pineapple. The babies face profile was perfectly drawn and the pink background was spot on. Something that really stuck out to me was this print was done for one of my loss mom friends. She wrote how comforting and reassuring the shop owners, Abigail and Lana, were to her. In my mind, I knew if she felt comfortable sharing her daughter with them, I would feel comfortable sharing Jensen. I instantly knew I needed one for my home. It would be a fun way I could display one of his ultrasounds in one of his colors.

Of course I contacted them… and admittedly creeped on their Instagram and Facebook page.

I shared Jensen’s story with them and they were exactly how my friend described them. They treated Jensen’s ultrasound with respect and asked about him and me. Although I loved the profile ultrasounds they had done, the ultrasound that was calling out to be drawn is the one on top of this blog, and every blog. To top it off, I asked for the one watercolor they hadn’t done before: orange. Of course it would be me and Jensen to go against the flow right?

They assured me it would come out amazing and then started working hard on his print. When I got the message it was being mailed out to me, I was SO giddy. I had hoped and prayed it would be done before Jensen’s birthday so I could have it for his party.

Each day I went to the post office to check for it and Thursday it arrived. When I got in the car, I ripped it open and marveled with how they captured him in his ultrasound. I wanted to share it the moment I opened it with you all, but I knew I had to wait to frame it. In my mind, I thought of how perfectly it would go with a frame I saw at the store the other day. I went, bought it, and framed it as soon as I got home.

It’s even more perfect than I imagined…

I absolutely love how it’s him. His little, button nose is highlighted and honestly, those cheeks. One day when I share Jensen’s picture with you guys, you will fall in love with his cheeks. The bright orange is breathtaking and the detail in his face is exactly how it is in his ultrasound. Then the silver of his name just puts it over the top and makes it feel so personal. Honestly, I just love how it looks and it is perfect in his room. Jensen would love seeing himself like this.

The Eclectic Pineapple‘s shop has these watercolor prints and ultrasound canvases that are as breathtaking as Jensen’s. At this time, the girls are on vacation and so is their shop. I’m sure they’ll have their shop open soon, but their Instagram and Facebook page has a lot of their work and you can really tell how much care they put into all of their work. Thank you Lana and Abigail for Jensen’s beautiful watercolor, ultrasound print. I will forever cherish it in my heart and home.

How Guilt Can Manifest Over One Year.

Posted on by
2

It was like any other typical appointment.

Of course at this time, I was going in twice a week for ultrasounds. During these appointments they monitored his movements and made sure he was practicing his breathing. I remember watching his heart rate, usually 132 beats per minute. Jensen would dance and wiggle around, letting me see his profile and front of his face. Usually he passed within five minutes. Sometimes it took him ten and a little coaxing from his mama. Every time he got a 100% and the doctor would tell me how good was doing. But this time was a little different.

Jensen had made big movements and his heart rate was great, but he didn’t practice his breathing. He had hiccups instead. So they couldn’t technically pass him on. I remember being tired from the baby shower and organizing the presents. He had moved all weekend and I made sure to put my feet up every night to relax. With all my protesting with seeing Jensen like he always had been, they still sent us for a Non-Stress Test or NST for short.

I had never had an NST before and I was angry. Honestly, I didn’t think Jensen was in danger and he had passed everything else. It was nice outside and I wanted to have a picnic and take bump pictures. Instead we went to the hospital into triage for them to hook me up. Not only did they hook my belly up to monitors, they tested my fluids and checked my blood pressure. The whole entire time I was pregnant my blood pressure was perfect except two times. This was one of them.

Like I said above, I was not especially happy about going to the hospital. It spiked my blood pressure and I, not Jensen, had to have extra monitoring.

NST ‘bump’ picture.

His heartbeat was monitored and the beeping calmed me. I saw every time he made a movement and he did end up practicing his breathing. When the resident doctor came in, I asked him questions about the Panorama test and asked about babies with Down syndrome. He ended up getting ultrasounds of Jensen that were taken at the hospital and looked them over with me. I got to show my baby off to another person, which made me smile. He kept telling me not to worry about Jensen. That he looked perfect and he’s passed all his tests but this last one and that I shouldn’t have even got sent to triage anyways. It made me feel better, which lowered my blood pressure.

In all, that day, we were there for around four hours. It was a long one, but I felt reassured because I knew the both of us were great.

I was so exhausted that night. When we went back, I remember thinking about the next few weeks. Jensen was due on April 17. My doctor wanted me to be induced at thirty-seven weeks and I though he was trying to scare me with the NST to be able to get induced then. I was adamant that Jensen would come whenever he needed to. “He’ll come when he’s ready,” I would tell the doctor. There wasn’t any reason to take him out early…

Today I woke up and remembered that appointment and the thoughts I had after it was all done. It stung. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I would have just complied and been induced at thirty-seven weeks. My mind told me after he was born that he would have lived if I would have just listened, but my stubbornness killed him. Those thoughts haunted me in those early weeks. Honestly, they subsided, until I woke up and theese flashbacks came.

Guilt.

It’s the one thing I’ve been afraid of with his birthday coming up. Would the memories and flashback show me something I missed? Something that would have saved him? If I would have just been scared enough and let them induce me, would he still be alive? Instead of writing this now, would I be chasing him around the house?

Let me tell you, these thoughts crush my chest and take my breath. I would have and would do anything to have saved him, to have him right here with me.

I hate feeling like I failed him.

The Baby Shower.

Posted on by
Reply

I woke up early that morning.

The rush of excitement to see my friends, family, and all the planning of the past few weeks filled me. Of course there were still more things to do, like the set up and making sure all the food got there. Then there was getting ready and making sure I put my feet up before I’d be on them all day. While I was constantly going over this checklist in my head, Jensen’s assuring ‘Go Mom!’ kicks made me smile.

When I stood up from my bed, I swore Jensen had dropped even lower. His weight gradually had been getting lower and lower over the past few weeks, but today he was the lowest. I waddled down the steps and we all started moving everything to the car. There was all the decorations and the table clothes that needed setting up before anything else, which was perfectly fine with me. As usual, I had to wait until after ten to get something to eat. Mr. I-don’t-like-mornings still hadn’t let me eat breakfast like I normally did before I was pregnant.

The boxes of my mental checklist were being marked quickly. On days like these, the hustle and bustle makes time go fast. Before I knew it, the guests were arriving.

I greeted people as they came. The first thing they probably noticed was my huge belly and my white slippers because no shoes would fit right. It seemed like the whole room filled up in under twenty minutes. Everyone was talking and laughing. Jensen kicked when he heard different people’s voices. I imagined this was how it was going to be from now on. His presence in the world brought happiness already and it would continue doing so when he would be in my arms.

My mom told me to go in the back while they played their first game, so I could eat. I can remember eating and a little one came up to me and asked what Jensen was doing in my belly. I smiled and told her he had been sleeping because we had a busy day. She touched my belly and asked if he was right there. Then he kicked. He was going to be friendly and love to interact with his cousins and friends.

After I was done eating, I remember walking out the door and seeing the huge, blue, ‘BOY’ balloons with the presents on the one side and diapers on the other table. I felt so blessed that Jensen and I were loved by so many.

The games had finished and everyone was eating. It was the perfect time to start opening gifts. I opened clothes, diapers, car seats, gift cards, pacifiers, books, stuff animals, bath needs, towels, and anything else you can think of. It was all there. We only needed to get a stroller which would be covered with all the gift cards. Everything was set for his big arrival now. All I had to do was get everything washed, unpacked, and assembled. Those things and of course waiting.

When everyone was getting ready to leave, I hugged them all and felt Jensen moving around. It was a tight squeeze so I felt him pretty frequently. In between every goodbye, I laid my hands where I knew his put was and then would trace down where his back was. He liked when I did that. He would move to follow my hand. Now looking back, a lot of those goodbyes were the last ones he had. They departed from us happy and thinking our future would be bright.

No one ever expected the worse was about to happen in a few short weeks.

My family helped take all the presents back to my house. We had to put them in the closet/laundry room because we still had to figure out everything with his room. I remember we went through each outfit and every book. In my mind, I had to organize everything so it would be easier for us to put away. Diapers in one corner, the bathing stuff in the other, and everything else had its place too. The clothes came with us so they could be washed.

Then we went home. Happy with how they day played out. I spent the evening reading the ‘Wishes for Baby’ and ‘Advice to Mom’ cards. Each out loud so Jensen would most definitely hear. I put them back in my purse so I could read throughout my appointments and ultrasounds, or whenever I felt like I needed to see them.

I was going to be a great mom.

That thought played in my head over and over. I was nervous, but I saw how much he was loved and I knew everything would work out just fine.

As quickly as the day went by, sleep welcomed me. Jensen and I had our nightly routine of reading a book and him kicking me until I laid on my left side. I’d be seeing him the next day and letting the ultrasound technician know how the shower went.

I dreamt of what he would look like that night. We were in the hospital room and I was holding him. He was snuggled so close to me and I was humming a lullaby in his ear. His body was warm and his hair smelled like a new baby.

Everything was perfect that day.

Planning a First Birthday Party Without Your One Year Old.

Posted on by
2

I’ve started preparing for Jensen’s first birthday party. For the past couple weeks I’ve picked up pages and stickers for his scrapbook and other little things here and there. It’s been keeping my mind busy with what I need to do. If I sit for too long lately the memories flood my whole entire body. Even though I had a little feeling that I would be getting flashbacks, I didn’t realize I wouldn’t just have the visions. I’m feeling all the emotions I did, but with no numbness or shock. It knocks me on the ground and completely exhausts me, but I have to keep going.

I have to mother Jensen the only way I can before his first birthday.

To do that and to check the boxes on my list, I had to make some purchases last weekend. At that time, I wanted to kind of wanted to keep everything a surprise for the day after his birthday post. That was until yesterday after picking up one of my purchases from the post office. I realized that planning a first birthday without having your one year old was another part of this crazy, grief journey. Planning a child’s first birthday that they won’t physically be at is something a parent shouldn’t do. Anyways, one of the items I purchased, a cake topper, was waiting for its pick up. As usual, I was excited to open up my mail and really picture what Jensen’s cake was going to look like. So, I ripped it open and looked over each letter. It was absolutely perfect and just what I had imagined in my head.

Then the tears started.

Cake topper from The Blushing Script.

My baby’s turning one. My grief will enter the second year.

This cake topper is the first thing I have of Jensen’s that says ‘one.’ It tangibly marks his age, something that I have been avoiding since he’s been born. I haven’t gotten out his clothes to measure how big he would be and I don’t have the stickers that would mark his months, but this. This was the first. I kept tracing the word with tears falling down my face; they soon turned into uncontrollable sobs.

My brain split and played two different thoughts in my head at the same time.

First, the excitement I had this time last year. I was getting the finishing touches of Jensen’s baby shower done. His baby shower was one of my favorite days ever. We were surrounded by loved ones who were so excited to welcome Jensen in our world. I can remember every detail of the day and I can remember the planning. Planning is one thing I really love to do. I painted, designed the invitations, and looked up fun games that I thought everyone would want to participate in. It was only the start of parties I’d plan for Jensen. I remember telling my mom how this time of year, every year, would be planning for his birthday party. Which leads to the simultaneous second thought.

How his birthday should have been. As I kept touching the cake topper, I imagined seeing the glow of the candle glowing back. His eyes would see the flame and the shadow it left behind. Even before that, he would have a nice picture taken with his first birthday cake and it would be right there. I shouldn’t say nice, I have a feeling he would try to eat the icing before I could get a good picture. Jensen would have smashed that cake up and I would have wanted to preserve his topper so I could have it in his scrapbook. It’s honestly one of the smallest parts of planning his party, but it means so much.

Everything means ‘so much’ when Jensen is involved. 

I’ve heard the first birthday party is more for the mom than the baby. Of course the baby wouldn’t remember his or her party being so young, but the mom does. It’s a way to show her hard work in the past year and nine months (or so) with her child. I’m taking this to heart. Obviously Jensen can’t be here for his party. I know that. This is for me to celebrate his life. I’m doing what I need to feel like a semi-normal mom to my son. It’s not going to be exactly how I would have planned it if he was here, but a lot of it is going to be the same. This day isn’t to celebrate his death, it’s to celebrate his life, just like all birthdays.

It’s also to celebrate the good in the past year.

Even with his physical absence, Jensen has brought me so many wonderful days and the largest smiles. His life has given me a bigger purpose and to strive to be the best mom and person I can be; with substitute teaching and starting Grey Woods Design. This past year, even though it’s the hardest, was his first year. He’s allowed me to meet so many new friends. People I would have never have met or known, but who have enriched my life in ways I could never thank them enough. I’ve learned what this crazy thing called love is really about and that’s something to celebrate.

Jensen’s life is meaningful. He will always be remembered and loved. I will celebrate all of his birthdays with him. And in just twenty-five days he’ll be a one year old.