Truth be Told

I know. It has been awhile since I posted. I do have something to write every day, but truth be told most days I barely have the energy to keep up with the laundry, dishes, kids, and entertaining my new/old friend "grief" that sometimes I just don't get to blogging.

SO I have a few things to catch up on... and then if I can I will post some pics to narrate what we have been up to the last few weeks.

MOVING

Mikenna has unofficially moved into Daxton's old room. It is blue with white stripes. I will likely keep it that way.

One night she out of the blue said, "Daddy I want to sleep in the green room (it used to have a green bed and they called it the green room)." And as an after thought she said, "Then I will be closer to the bathroom so I can go in the middle of the night." (Another on going thing. I am not sure what to do about her not being able to wake herself up in the middle of the night to pee, but hey if I had some adult diapers I suppose I wouldn't get out of bed to pee either).

So began her sleeping in the green room. I think she wants to sleep in there because 1.It is the coldest room in the house in the summer 2. Savannah is on the other side of the gate and will therefore NOT bother her in the wee hours of the morning (we have gates to keep Savannah corralled to a very limited space, but before you call CPS, we are on the same side as she is and it is mainly for her safety) 3. The bed is SUPER comfy and last but not least 4. I do think she misses her brother and the best way she can be closer to him is to sleep in his bed. And so she does.

PACKING

I finally did it. I went through all the girls pants and long sleeves and put them in a bucket. But that isn't where it ended. I put all of Daxton's clothes in a bin. I just threw them all in. I didn't think about it. I was on auto mode.

It would have hurt to much to individually touch and carefully fold each and every shirt that he wore. It would have hurt to much to fold each blanket that he snuggled and slobbered on. It would have hurt to much to fold the tiny little socks that kept his little toesies warm. Or to fold my favorite brown sweater he wore or the white collared onesie he wore for the pictures we got just before he died.

No. I just tossed them carelessly into the bucket so that my heart wouldn't break into a million pieces all over again. And then I put it in the closet. And now, well I look at it and think one day. One day I will have to fold them. One day I will have to take them out and individually fold them and lay them carefully to rest. But not today. Today they sit in a bin, in the closet, waiting until one day when I have the strength to really go through them.

You might wonder why I even emptied the dresser at all. Well I am in transition. We are busting at the seams in our little house and I need to make room for Mikenna and Isabella to share a room. I am just about ready to have Isabella in a different room than me so that I can get some sleep and I am certainly not going to put her in a room by herself. So here is me. Getting ready to do some changing. Change is good. We just don't always like it. :)

Surviving

My cousin sent this to me. I thought it was appropriate for today.

My Mom Is a Survivor

My mom is a survivor,
Or so I’ve heard it said.
But I can hear her crying at night
When all others are in bed.

I watch her lay awake at night
And go to hold her hand.
She does't know I’m with her
To help her understand.

But like the sands on the beach
That never wash away…
I watch over my surviving mom,
Who thinks of me each day.

She wears a smile for others…
A smile of disguise!
But through Heaven’s door I see
Tears flowing from her eyes.

My mom tries to cope with death
To keep my memory alive.
But anyone who knows her, knows
It is her way to survive.

As I watch over my surviving mom
Through Heaven’s open door…
I try to tell her that angels
Protect me forevermore.

I know that doesn’t help her…
Or ease the burden she bears.
So if you get a chance, go visit her…
And show her that you care.

For no matter what she says…
No matter what she feels.
My surviving mom has a broken heart
That time won’t ever heal.

By Kaye Des’Ormeaux

Mother's Day

I can't promise you this post will be uplifting. I can't promise you this post won't make you cry. I can't promise you this post will be "good" but I can promise it will be real.

I worked last night and so today has been a bit of a blur... which I suppose is a good thing because I was really dreading this day. Not as much as I am Daxton't birthday, but close. I came home from work and took a sorry excuse of a nap and then zombied my way through church and the rest of the day.

Don't get me wrong I think Mother's Day is a great day to honor mothers. I should turn this post around and make it uplifting and enlightening, but I actually don't feel that way. I feel cheated. I feel sad. Tonight Mikenna and I were looking at pictures that Doug put on my mom's digital picture frame. It was just a short year ago almost that my sweet Daxton was still alive. As I held Isabella in my arms, I watched Daxton grow up before my eyes through the photos. And then I watched him slip away. It made me feel sad, bitter, and cheated.

I have 4 children. It is getting "easier" to tell my "story" and I hate it. I sum up Daxton's life in a sentence. People ask how many kids I have. I tell them 3 girls and a boy, but my son died almost a year ago. That is it. That is his story. How can I cheat his most perfect life in such a way? I guess I could just skip that part. But I can't. I do have 4 children. I do have a son, whom I love very much.

I took care of a little boy last night. Ok I take care of a lot of little boys, but this one in particular really struck me. He was suffering a little because of his respiratory distress. I just wanted to hold him and love him and tell him everything would be ok. But I couldn't. I don't know if everything will be ok. Likely it will, but maybe it won't.

There was a little baby that died in the PICU the other night and my heart broke for the family. I don't know them. I may never know them, but I know some of their pain. The baby was one year old. I don't know the whole story and if I did, I likely wouldn't be able to tell you, but the story is the baby passed away. There was a mother in the depths of sorrow. I wanted to run to her and hug her, but how do you justify that? You don't. I am a nurse and while at work, I have to be a nurse.

Mikenna wanted me to tell her a story. So I told her about Daxton. I told her that one day a little boy was born. He was born into a family with two big sisters who loved him and cared for him and nurtured him (ok lets be honest, they tortured him too). She giggled. I told her that this little boy loved to play in the water. He loved to be held. He loved to laugh. He loved to crawl into the refrigerator. He loved to climb into the pantry and dump out all the plastic silverware (I remember that day like it was yesterday... I thought to myself, I should get after him and then I thought 'no' I will miss this one day. Yes. Yes. I do) She giggled some more. I told her that this little boy loved to take a bath. He had just barely had his first big boy bath before he died. Just his first. There are so many firsts that I am missing right now. I know I will get the chance to see all his first, just not right now and that is what hurts the most.

Tonight at the dinner table we were discussing what the twins should start to eat. My sweet aunt asked what Daxton ate or if he did.... it went unspoken in my mind 'he didn't get to live long enough to eat much other than breast milk and some nasty rice cereal.'

If today is any indication of what is to come in less than 3 weeks with his birthday and the "anniversary" then I just want to crawl into a hole and re-emerge in about 2 months. But alas, that isn't so. I will pull up my boot straps and face it head on. I have suffered deeper than I thought possible and I have come up for air. I can do this. I can do this. But I will need some help. Lots of help. Lots and lots of help.

Overall, today really wasn't that bad. I got some really really cute pictures made by my husband and girls and Mikenna made the cutest "recipe" book on the planet. One of these days I will share. I got a cute little handprint from Savannah and lots of loves from Isabella. We ate dinner at my moms and the chocolate cake was divine!

I am grateful for my mother. For all that she does for me. For her example and her patience with me.

Tonight this is for all the mothers who are grieving or suffering or wondering if they are rearing their children right. You can do it. You can do anything. You are daughters of God who are sent here to be an example, to teach your children to love and serve one another and the Lord. It is a huge responsibility and who better to do it than us. We can't do it alone. We need help and lots of it. But it can be done. And please, just kiss your babies for me. :)

Happy Mother's Day