Angels

Like I have written before, every night as I lay Samantha to bed, I tell her that Jack and Dziadzio are watching over her. Well, the other night I said it as usual and she repeated both their names and pointed to the picture of an angel my sister got her that hangs over her crib. What a moment. Not only does my daughter say her brother's name and Grandfather, but she knows that they are her guardian angels. I am in awe of her and I wonder if she sees and hears them. If she does, I hope that lasts forever. 

Return to Zero

The movie, Return to Zero, premiered on Saturday night. What an emotional movie. I cried a lot, of course. But I also laughed and smirked and nodded at so many moments that I could relate to. The comments people would make, the things the actors would say, the feelings the parents would feel, and the experiences they went through. It was so validating to know that I am not alone in the bitterness and sadness and anger. I thought about the movie all of Saturday night while going to bed. I dreamed about it. I watched it again on Sunday with Sean and dreamed about it again last night. It really, really hit me and it really is important to me. I am so glad that I watched and I will watch it again. I hope that all my friends and that people know me watch it at least one day. It really shows a glimpse into the world that Sean and I are part of now.

The birth scene was the hardest. I kicked myself again and again asking myself, "WHY DID YOU NOT DO A NATURAL BIRTH?!?!?" If only I could rewind time.

As the credits rolled, I waited for Jack's name. When it came up, I cried and cried. My baby's memory on screen. My baby's memory part of a movie about stillbirth. My Jack Jack.

Another reason to be sad

Today is my parents' 43rd wedding anniversary. As I look at this picture:

I get the frog in my throat, I get the weight at the pit of my stomach, and I get teary eyed. I miss my father a lot. A LOT, A LOT. I always expected to lose my father sooner than later. I always knew the day was coming that it would happen. I didn't think I would miss him as much because of the frustrations I felt and because I knew it would happen. But I do miss him so much that it hurts. When I look at Samantha, I see him. When I look at Samantha, I wish that he was still here to see her and love on her. It literally causes me pain that she won't get to know him.
And of course, the sadness I feel for not having my mother as much as I want to. The sadness I feel that my mother wanted to be a grandmother more than anything and now she can't even enjoy it. The sadness I feel when I see my mother and I can't even hold a conversation with her. The sadness I feel when I can't call my mother to ask her for advice. The sadness I feel when I remember not being able to cry on my mother's shoulder when I lost Jack.

I have the most amazing parents ever. They were the best when I was little, when I was a teenager, and when I became an adult. They were there for me. They supported me and they loved me. I am SO grateful that they are my parents. And I miss them even more because of that.

Ugh Mother's Day

Another bittersweet Mother's Day is upon us. It's been crappy. I've cried. I'm hurting. And all I can do is imagine what it would be like if Jack was here. I imagine a blonde, curly haired boy. I imagine him to be tall. I imagine him to be active and loud. I imagine him running to me and giving me hugs and kisses. I imagine him watching his Daddy work in the garage. I imagine him giving me my Mother's Day kisses today. But then I imagine a life without Samantha and I cry once again. And I try to imagine a world with the both of them in it. What a paradise that would be. Big brother and little sister running around. Big brother watching over his little sister. Jack and Sam. My beautiful children. 

Good morning, Jack

When Samantha sees me on weekend mornings, she gives me the biggest smile. She is always so excited to see me in the morning. I know part of that has to be Jack. Could he be shining through that gleam in her eye? Could that smile also show me that he's happy too? 

And then as I open the door to let the dogs out butterflies flutter by. I say nice and loud, "good morning, Jack. I wish you were here with us."

Through all the recent constant reminders of my son, I have reconfirmed that the pain and heart ache of losing my son has not left nor has it gotten any easier. I still miss him, I still love him, I still need him, I still cry for him, I still grieve for him. It hasn't gotten easier. It still hurts so much. But I don't want the pain to go away because that is my reminder of him. That's all I have or him other than my memories. I need that pain to stay in my heart forever.

Hard moments

There are moments when Jack's memory comes rushing back stronger than usual. When butterfly floats by, I think that he is saying hello. When unfortunately, I have to give someone advice on what it feels like to lose a baby before you even meet him, the emotions come rushing back and just make me feel heavy. That weight lies in the pit of my stomach. And moments like today. I opened a random drawer and find Jack's cremation information. I have no idea why it was in there. I have no idea why it was not with the rest of his stuff where it belongs, but it wasn't. And I saw it today and my heart sank. I cremated my son. His ashes are in hmm living room, in a lake, and around my neck. His arms don't hug me, his lips don't kiss me, and I will never hear his voice. Instead, I have only the memory of my dead son that we had to cremate. It still hurts so much.