Come rain or shine, I am thankful – always thankful

I am waiting on the rain today. It always seems to come, sometimes only a sprinkle or a spit – it’s fallen now for six years on this very day, the 8th of July. Six years, that seems like it should feel forever ago. Reviewing the forecast last night I go to bed thinking it’s not happening this year. No rain. Just heat and clouds.

Good day to turn on the sprinklers and watch the girls run….and off to sleep I drift.

 The morning arrives before I'm ready for it. Sweet little Ilah girl has snuck into our bed in the night and she is poking at me “maahhh-ma… maahhh-ma…you ahh’wake?” she whispers less than an inch from my face. I try and snuggle her back to sleep, she wipes off my kisses, laughs wildly and teases me “yuck” she giggles – “Me watch shows?” Too often I fear I give into her request and with one-eye-open I let her lead me out to the living room and turn on Super-Why; just so I can lie in bed for just a few-more-minutes and try to will away the exhaustion that will pull at my heels for the rest of my day.

 Then it’s off to our daily routine (the short version): Coffee for momma (lots and lots of coffee), dressing and brushing – I must mention how awesome it is that Avis Rose insists on doing this all on her own now! Morning drop-off or prep for daddy day, day at the office (more coffee), working momma guilt, pick-up, dinner, chores, play-time, baths, books and off to bed. Then not sleeping, because one of the littles won’t sleep… they take turns now – how thoughtful (smile).

 Our days have a constant and predictable rhythm, along with the a few crazy beats. You know the usual ups and downs with toddlers. We have our super-terrific-absolutely-perfect happy days then there is the epic toddler public meltdowns that send me hiding in the bathroom to eat chocolate days. Our girls are happy and healthy and run about with a carefree spirit that fills my cup over! This routine, this “normalcy” we have been blessed with makes the reality of everything that happened six years ago seem like nothing more than a really bad dream. 

 I am fully awake now, he was not a dream. Our loss is still very real today. Even though it may not be obvious to others, Owen is still part of our daily routine. For he is why I awake every morning smothering Avis and Ilah with kisses and I constantly tell them “I love you more!” He is why when I am running late and the girl’s bat-a-lash I stop in my hurriedness to meet a need. He is why I don't mind that my house is in a constant state of disorder. He is why watching my husband father our daughters makes my heart want to burst with joy. He is why listening to my girls play and laugh (and even fight) together is the very best part of my day, and above all he is the reason why I pray for patience with my children and thank God I get to be so exhausted All.The.Time. 

Owen is also one of the reasons at the end of our busy day, when I want nothing more to drop this routine, sleep and just give-up, I don’t. I don’t stop missing him. I don’t stop myself from crying on the days I need to let it out. I don’t hide his life from his sisters – or anyone really. I don’t apologize for my grief – it’s a long journey – one that I can live with. I don’t stop loving my family deeply. I don’t stop wondering what it would be like to raise-up three children. Most importantly I don’t stop turning to God and seeking His help.

Tonight when I check on our sleeping girls, with one still in the crib that was intended for him first, I am certain I will fight back tears – but I will also be thankful. Thankful for our daily routine. Thankful that his short life made me want nothing more than to better wife and mother.  Thankful for all the wonderful friends and family that he has united around us through these years and thankful for the rain today from 2:42 pm to 3:03. It rained hard – it was sideways – it was remarkable.

 Heaven sent – thank you baby boy, we miss you too!

FIVE

He is five today.

When you become a parent your perspective changes, your focus shifts to this new beautiful life. Birthdays become less about yours and more about theirs. Yet as a mother their birthdays are very much about you on many levels, but we tend to keep that in the background to not over-shadow their special day. We remember this day of labor, the excitement and fear, the pain that is easily overcome by the joy of seeing your child for the first time. There are so many memories ingrained, and every year it all rushes back. You become at awe of how fast another year has pushed between this initial date. You smile a lot that day and might even cry, just a little, because your baby is not a baby. Ah, but they always will be.

It is no different for me, even in death, I celebrate Owen's life. I may not have five years of milestones to look back on, but I still have all the motherly memories that seem so fresh: sounds, scents, sights, emotions. There will not be a big party with family and gifts, yet we celebrate in our own way. Our children are our gifts on this day, always.

He is five today.

We make our annual trip to the cemetery, to release five brightly colored birthday balloons. I imagine that is what Owen might have liked. I picked out the most colorful cupcakes and flowers to marry it all together. Let us be bright today, let us make a week of it. Our ride is lively, not at all sullen. Ilah May blows raspberries and hums along with the vibration of the car as Avis Rose laughs at her little sister. I close my eyes and take it in, these sweet giggles spill into my heart along with a warm strong hand to hold; Thank you God for my family for grace to endure. Though my passenger of grief rides alongside me as we make our way to the cemetery it is laugher and love that resonates.

He is five today.

And to the heavens we send our love, our laughter, our bright balloons. Owen is five today, in the arms of our Lord.

              Happy Birthday Owen Gordon, be bright sweet boy! Love Mom, Dad and Sissy's

I encourage you to find five things this week to be thankful for. Even on the darkest days, He brings us light. There is good in every day. Remind your children of this, share with them the joy you find this week.

Picture Perfect...

I don’t think I slept a wink last night, hovering over the girls with a constant unshakable anxiety that these past eight days have brought to the forefront.  If you are here reading this, you know why. I thank you for checking in on me and my family; for your continued support, prayers and  love uplifts us. You have in your own way carried some of this burden too. Some of you have held us as we wept; you may have done the same perhaps alongside us or on the other side of the screen reading into our lives.  Many of you have reached out to us, be it a short note via social media, a card, a knowing smile, a hand squeeze or ears willing to listen to me say his name so often you no-longer blink, as if he never left us. True friends and loving family we are grateful God has kept you in our lives.  

This past weekend we gathered with immediate family to remember Owen, releasing balloons to the heavens, thankful for his short time with us. It was a surprisingly relaxing day enjoying the sun in good company. As I flip through pictures on my camera my heart is filled with the faces smiling back at me. My husband, our girls – loving Avis’ crazy messy hair, sweet little cousins dashing in and out of the frame so full of life’s zest we cannot contain them splashing along the beach. Each of you unknowingly served as rescue from my anxiety that day...for a few hours the air was light. I searched for a family picture to take account of the day, they all seem so flawed. It’s not what you might think, it’s not that obvious: eyes squinting from the sun, everyone looking in a different directions, toddler fussing, baby sleeping, winks, wiggles and giggles – no this is normal, this is everyday messy perfection. Those are moments I can't get enough of,even when in the moment I may not realize it. Instead what I notice most is what is missing. All I see is that Owen is not in any frame. I will never have a complete family picture. Outwardly our family of five will always appear to be four – this flaw will always poke at my heart. And yet it's as it should be,according to His plan.

Today I invite you to remember our sweet boy. Pick a day this week to let go of any anxiety, put away any doubt or worries that others my see a flaw. Instead sit with your family  without distractions and just watch and listen and enjoy your picture perfect moments. They go by too fast.

 

Four Years of Wonder

Four years old, that is how old Owen would have been today. The years keep adding up against me, pulling me further and faster away from the day I brought Owen into this world. Years filled with cherished memories, grief, great joy, new additions to our family and constant thoughts of what-might-have-been. Four years, can you believe it! Most days I cannot wrap my head around it; we should be parenting three sweet peas ages 4,2, and 2 months.

These days of mine are filled with love, sweet giggles, new coos, piles of dirty laundry, and not enough time.  On the surface I appear to be a mommy like so many. Exhausted with messy hair and a breast milk stained shirt while stepping OUCH! on toys sporadically scattered about by our toddler; tired yet eager and looking forward to the rewards tomorrow will bring. However just beyond the surface of what you see there is something invisible, a constant wonder. With so much to do how does one sneak time away to think of what-might-have-been, but I do. I do with every one of those laughs and butterfly kisses, with new words that seem to drip out of Avis Rose like honey and the ridiculous infectious smiles that Ilah May flashes that seem so stretched that I contemplate having to take her to a masseuse to relax those scrumptious cheeks of hers. I can’t help myself, I always wonder how today could be brighter with their big brother here.

Most days I wonder in smiles and other days through tears. Today I will  wonder what would we be doing for his birthday? The cake, the theme, what would his “big” gift be from his Daddy and I? Would he have been able to blow out his candles or would he still be on a ventilator? Would his sisters champion around him and or rival?  For all the questions I hold there are two truths I know. One: Owen would have been much different than the average four year old, but he would be here and embraced for his differences. That is what I long for most, his presence in lieu of absence, especially on days like today. And two: All the hopes and dreams I had for him has been replaced with wondering; what-might-have-been is all I have left now. 

So beneath the surface I will continue to wonder and speculate about what it might have been like to raise up three children in our nest; a big brother and two little sisters, to watch them grow up together through the trials and tribulations of this life. I can smile at my wonder, even though it will never be.  I can wonder all the while living, learning and loving the family before me. I can be grateful for what my arms can hold and for what they once held. I can remember him, and that because of him I am a mother of three.

I ask that you remember too. Today is Owens Birthday celebrate his life. Celebrate your family and be especially kind to others today for you never know what invisible struggle lies just beyond the surface.

 

Happy Birthday Owen, we love you dear boy!

Today & Every Other Day

 

 

Today starts like any other day, dragging myself out of bed to run in and check on Avis for the millionth time since she fell asleep. Holding my breath as I tip-toe in her room and back out – quiet as a mouse. Feewww, I made it. Our morning routine begins as most do with a toddler, showers, breakfast, lunches, dressing etc. all in the attempt to appear you have it all-together and so on. Then on to the waking routine and the stealing of as many morning snuggles as we can gather, so we may get through our day before we rush off to the office. At least that is how it goes for me. Then of course I have guilt that rides along with me on my way to work every day, yes there is that. Today is just like every other morning, except today it is not every other day. Today grief joins me on my way. This passenger has never really left – I continue to get craftier at disguising it as the years pass. I have to convince myself all the way in “do not go to the bathroom to cry today, Do-Not-Do-It”. But I know at some point I will break for it is a given.

I still count every day, not a loud, but subconsciously I know how long it’s been since I held our Owen last. Three years since I breathed in his scent and starred into those sweet brown eyes. Three years since the Dr’s words pierced me with such pain. Three years still seems just like days ago. Every new and wonderful milestone that meets us with his little sister, I can’t help to think what-might-have-been. I keep tabs on my friends and families little ones that were born around the same time as Owen; truly happy and excited to see what they are doing now at the age of three. I am always at wonder and awe of them, their newness to the world. Then I ponder how different it would be for our family with both Owen and Avis to chase after. I daydream about that often. While our daughter was in daycare I couldn’t help to smile when I would see displays of sibling adoration by the sweet peas that mimicked the age of ours. It was always followed by the intense fear that I was going to break down and start sobbing knowing our daughter will never know the love of a big brother and vice-versa. It’s those daily double-edged emotions that serve as reminder that my family will never be complete on this earth.

 

Shortly after the birth of Avis I was asked, if having her made life better/easier without Owen, my answer was simple and honest – No. Don’t get me wrong, there is much joy in our life, and much to be thankful for. Joy attributed by both of our children, but joy can and does exist with great grief. That’s my life and I can handle God’s will. Because for whatever reason He believes I can. And so I go on, focusing up on what is before me: a wonderful, loving, strong and faithful husband, an adorable, sassy, snuggly and growing little girl, both of which overfill my cup – and a sweet strong little warrior of a son whose time here with me/us was much too short. I believe strongly our past shapes our future. Owen will always be the reason I continue forward, it’s okay to look back and hold fast to his memory, it is okay that today is not every other day, it is okay to make multiple trips to the ladies room and re-apply water-proof mascara. It is all going to be okay, we can move forward without losing sight of our past.

As the day winds down and I race off to scoop up my little peanut, I will hold her tighter today and smoother her with kisses to try and make up for the years I have not been able to dote on her brother. I will race around the house making dinner, reading books, dancing wildly, giving baths, changing diapers – trying to hold it together and plan head for the day to come, just as I do every other day. All the while in the back of my mind I know differently, my heart knows differently. On the outside it is just another Monday, inside it never will be. It is the 8^th of July, with many more to come.

Sweet boy my love for you continues to grow each day, just as it does for your father and sister. You have been a seed of strength and faith in my life and I will continue to grow in the years to come because of you. Love to the heavens, love on the eighth. Love you , love you always.