Day 2-Intention

Day 2 – INTENTION Set

yourself a new intention to inspire your next path in grief
and healing. It might be to live your life with more
kindness or maybe you might intend to live your life more
wholeheartedly in honour of your children. Spend some time
with this one. Go and get some fresh air. What is it that
you want out of this project? Whatever your new intention
is, write it down with the words “I intend to
……………. in honour of my precious child/ren

……………..” 

I have pondered this subject the minute that Corby passed. My intention is to keep serving my boy the best I can as his mother, just as I do for my other children. I intend to continue to bring awareness to SUDC by sharing my blog with people, and honoring him in our races.

I intend to keep his spirit alive in our home and family by teaching his brother and future siblings about him, and continuing to talk about him. 

 (Ledgyr will quite frequently stare or give kisses to his brother like he already knows him) 

I intend to continue to grieve in a healthy way and not shut down, but most of all I intend to live my life full of love and compassion for my son just as he lived his life. I want to be able to serve people in honor of my baby as well as to serve them for my Savior. 

Before I even became a mother I came across a blog of a mother that lost her daughter to drowning. I cried right along with her as her beginning of her grief journey began up until right around the time I lost Corby. Through all her posts she taught me to love fiercely and fully. To live and love my children everyday as if it were my last. I am so grateful for that because I don't have any regrets that I didn't love Corbyn enough. I intend to pass on what she taught me, and what I have learned by the loss of my own child. I want people to love to the fullest and not take their children for granted. To hug them more. To hold them tight and be grateful for every breath that they breath out of their little bodies. For every morning that they have the chance to hear their child awake.

 My intentions are huge and I carry a lot of weight on my shoulders because of them, but I am reminded every day when I look and see that empty seat in my car or at the dinner table that weight is my son's weight that I carry. 

Day 1-Sunrise

Day 1 – SUNRISE Let us celebrate the beginning of this healing month by waking up early to watch the sunrise wherever we in the world. This will be a beautifully, poignant way for us all to feel connected and energized for the month ahead. When you go outside to watch the sunrise this morning, don’t just snap a picture and upload it right there on the spot. Make yourself a nice cup of tea and sit down to breathe in the fresh air, the scent of the new morning and all of the colours and sounds as they transform around you. Take some time to breathe the sunrise in.  Spend some time reflecting upon your children and your journey so far. If there is no visible sunrise in your part of the world because of the weather, that is okay, this is life and nature, and it really doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you take the time out of your day to be with us all in spirit and make space for a new beginning. Take a photo of your surroundings, no matter what the weather is like, don’t visit google to use a more pretty sunrise picture. This is about you and the place where you are right now. If you share your photo online make sure you write what State/Country you are in and the time of the sunrise. You can google the sunrise time in your part of the world and set your alarm if you are a sleepy head like me. Send some love out to everyone else in the world who is grieving the death of a child and remember those gone before us who were made to grieve in silence. We honor these people too.

My mornings usually start quite early due to my work. I have the blessing to be able to choose my hours that I work. I want to make sure that I am away from my children as least as possible so I wake up between 2:30-3:00 in the morning and am out the door by 3:30. I have a 45 minute drive so I have some time to reflect while I drive to work. This morning I did a lot of reflecting-mostly about the sunrise and what it symbolizes for me now. It is something that is constant in my life. I always know that there will be a sunrise and a sunset. The sunrise symbolizes the starting of something new. A new day. It's a promise to me that if the sun can rise every day I too can rise every day. I need to be that promise to my children and husband. I need to be that promise to my son. I know that he does not want me to give up because he is not here on earth with me anymore. 

When Corbyn passed it was at night and I found him after I got off shift around 12:45 (I worked a different job and my shift  was evenings at the time) We didn't leave the ER after we were told the worst news any parent dreads to hear for several hours. It was around 3 in the morning when we finally left his lifeless body all alone on that bed in the ER. Wrapped up to try and keep the little bit warmth he still had left in his body. He looked like he was peacefully sleeping. 

I remember walking out of the ER doors and smelling the start of a new day. The sun hadn't rose yet, but the fresh smell was already there. The shallow breaths I was able to take allowed me to be able to still smell of the freshness. We couldn't go home to a house that was torn apart by the crime scene people, nor to the emptiness of it. So we opted to go to my parents house. When we arrived there we looked at pictures and movies of our baby and wished more than anything that it was all so different. We wished for our miracle. I cried and cried until I was past the point of exhaustion. Brock and I decided we would go lay down and try to get some sleep. I took a sleeping pill so that I could at least fall asleep. We slept for about 3 hours. By that time the sun had risen. I remember lying there in bed looking out at the new day. It was a beautiful fall morning. I remember feeling of that promise as I stared out that window. I remember feeling raw and scared, but I remember feeling him close. I remember the love of my Savior and him holding me. I remember saying to Brock how much I already miss my baby as I stared out that window. 

So to me, the sunrise is a promise that of all the things that are chaotic in my life I can always trust in that. It brings a new beginning for me to remember to be the best mother that I can, but also to remember the sunshine of a life my son was to me. 

Here are some pictures of the sunrise I watched for several minutes this morning from work. As I sat there reflecting on the sunrise I related it to my healing. A sun doesn't just pop up out of the sky and is there. It takes time. It's a slow rising process. That is what I have to remember with my grief. It is a slow process and I don't just pop back and am just fine one day. It takes time. A LOT of time. I'm ok with that. If in the end I emerge with beauty and brilliance like the sunrise is each morning then I'm ok waiting out the process. 

Project Grief

I received an email today from a member of our SUDC parent group. I haven't opened up the emails from them lately because, truthfully, sometimes all of their sadness even becomes exhausting. Even though I can connect with them the most because they have had the EXACT same thing happen to them with their child; sometimes reading those emails just emotionally drains me more. For some reason, today, I decided I needed to read this one email from a mother in the group. She sent this link thinking it may be of some interest to us:

http://carlymarieprojectheal.com/capture-your-grief-2015

I quickly read over the post and realized it would be great for me to do this for my emotional need. The second year of special days have been a billion times harder on me than the first year. I find myself more emotionally drained than I did last year and some days it has taken everything in me to not burst into tears when simply talking to someone about every day things. It feels like all of the shock has completely worn off and the reality of my hell has finally sunk all the way in. I find myself searching for that  third child more often rather than less often. Everything seems more raw than it did even the weeks follow Corby's passing.  So long story short this next month I will be participating in this project to hopefully help me to continue with my head up in my grief journey especially since we are quickly approaching Corby's second angelversary. Please join along with me if you would like. 

3 years ago today

As I lay here awake all I can think about is three years ago I did this very thing, but it was to anxiously await my beautiful baby boy that would be delivered via c-section in the morning. Today, oh how I wish today were different. I wish I was anxiously awake planning every last detail of my beautiful boys birthday party that he would celebrate with everyone. Opening presents, giggling, eating way too many sweets, and having the time of his life. I wish. Instead, today, I lay awake wondering if I'm going to hold it together tomorrow. If I will be able to finish making his cake to take with us to celebrate at his grave with him, or if I will break down like I did last year. I lay awake wondering if he would have even liked Spider-man. Maybe he would have liked Batman more, or Superman. I'll never know. I lay awake and wish I didn't close my eyes and have the events from his only birthday party all the way up to the day he passed play in my mind over and over again. I wish I didn't have so many 'what if's' constantly in my head. I lay awake wondering if the party I did plan for him tomorrow is anything he would have wanted. I wonder if he'll be close?? If he celebrates with us? If any of this matters in the hereafter? 

I hope tomorrow is a good day. I hope I can be happy for my little boy that would be turning 3. Hug your babies tight tonight, and wish me luck. 

Roller coaster

I've said it many times. Grief is a roller coaster. You have your ups and you have your downs. Sometimes it throws you for a complete loop. I've been thrown for a complete loop. I know it's because Corbyn's birthday is next Wednesday, but I didn't quite expect to be like this. I talk all the time that you don't ever "get over it". Somehow in my own mind I was thinking that I was, though. I thought that I wouldn't have too hard of a time this year as his birthday and angelversary arrive. Boy was I wrong! It all started Monday. All at once. I started reminiscing on Corby's first birthday party and how perfect it was. It was monster themed because we called him our little monster. He acquired that name while I was pregnant with him. He was such a mover! He would push and kick and poke me all day long. Brock would often look at my belly in awe because it looked like I had a monster inside of me. Well, I did! So his name stuck. He was our little monster. He was not a monster baby in a bad way at all. He was my cute little sweet monster. He held up to the moving part, though. He rolled over from his back to his front just a little over 3 months. He was crawling before he was 6 months and he was running by the time he was 10 months. He had things to do and people to see! I made him a big three tiered monster cake for his birthday and had a fun birthday party with games, activities, treats, etc.

We had a lot of people that came and celebrated his birthday with him and I'm so grateful for that.

I still think about the day that he was born. I remember the exact room that I was in. I remember the nurses that I had. I remember the calm spiritual feeling I had all that morning. He was a planned c-section so I was scheduled to have him at 8 that morning. We were told to show up at 6 to make sure everything was ready. I remember the outfit that I as wearing. I was so calm and ready for my monster to come. I was so at peace that my heart rate was between 40-50 BPM and the machine that they had me hooked up to kept going off because it was saying my heart rate was too low. It got to be such an annoyance that the nurse finally just came in and turned it off. After he was here I immediately felt this overwhelming need to protect him. I never felt that way with Addy when she was born. Nor did I feel it so strongly when Ledgyr was born. There was this connection there that the only way I could describe it was a burning within me. Like my spirit knew from the very beginning.

With me still working at the same hospital that I gave birth to him in, and the job I have. I frequently walk past "his room". The place that is so sacred to me I can barely look at it let alone walk in it. Some days I can glance in that general direction and remember the good of that day, and other days, like today, I look at it and wish I could go back. I wish I could hold him again. I wish I could go back in time and live those 411 days over again. 

Now I look at that room and wonder-did him coming via c-section have anything do to with him not being fully developed? Did I allow him to be cut out too early? Was it my fault? I question myself daily on what I did to have made him the way he was so that he couldn't stay with me on earth. I then I irrationally question whether he was even really my child. Did they somehow switch him in the nursery. Is my blood child still out there alive and about to celebrate his 3rd birthday? After all my other two children have brown hair and he was blonde.  Then I ask myself-would I want to have a different child than Corby if I got to keep him, or still only have the 411 days to love and cherish Corby? Even though it's so painful to not have my baby here with me and I wish I didn't have this pain I would still choose that 411 days even if he wasn't my child. That little boy gave me light. He had this love and presence about him that I can't really describe. I can just feel it. I wish everyday I still could feel that presence and light. I wish every day that it were different. I wish that I would have done things different 'that day'. I wish I would have not gotten him his flu shot. I wish I would have just waited. I want to know so badly if that shot had anything to do with him passing. I guess it wouldn't have really mattered. There is a scripture in D&C that God is talking with Joseph and he says that he will not go before his time. I deep down believe that it was Corby's time to go. So if by some chance that it was the flu shot that took him and I had decided to wait then it would have been something else that would have taken him. Maybe he would have died from the actual flu. Then what? I'd be blaming myself because I didn't get him the shot. He could have gotten brain cancer, he could have gotten hit by a car, or drown. All of those I wouldn't have wanted for my baby. I didn't want him to suffer. I know that the way that he passed that he didn't suffer. He wasn't scared. I haven't really talked about this on here before, but I know that people were there to take his little spirit back with them. To comfort him.  We have a video that shows them around the room and both Addy and Corby are watching them. The night that he passed he played his little heart out with his sissy for one last time. He wasn't sick. He wasn't in pain.

He and his sissy did what they did best. Tornado-ed our little house and left no walk-able path in their destruction. Brock talks about how that night in the bath he was different. He wasn't sick or cranky. He was somber. I believe that's when the spirits that came to get him told him it's time to go, and he didn't want to. Brock got him out of the tub and snuggled him to sleep one last time. Do I wish I had answers? YES. Why? Would it cause more guilt if I did know? I don't know. It would at least put me at ease with the rest of my children. I wouldn't live in fear that they are ticking time bombs as well.  I wouldn't have an anxiety attack every time I went to check on them while they were sleeping in fear that they are gone too. I would know for sure if it were still in my children's best interest to get vaccinated. Would I still have 'what if's'? I'm sure I would. Everyone has what if's? What if I hadn't let him leave that night? What if I had taught him how to swim better? What if I had been watching closer? What if I had checked on him sooner? If I had answers my 'what if's' would just be different.

So today my roller coaster has thrown me for a loop. I'm not over it. I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm broken. So here's to number 2 without you my baby. I'll throw you the best party even though you're not here to celebrate it.