A nice surprise...

I have been a terrible mother...I haven't been to the cemetery to visit in, well, a couple of months maybe?  I have had intentions, as I drive by the cemetery every time I go to my parents house, but I usually end up staying past dark when I go...not that I haven't spent after dark hours in the cemetery, but not with our daughter.  The past month has been so chaotic with the holidays and doctor visits and the hustle and bustle of life that my dear sweet momma actually placed his Christmas tree at his graveside this year.  Today, I finally stopped to pay a visit and this is what I found...

I cannot fully express just how unbelievably heart warming it is to visit my sons grave and find gifts left by others... I LOVE that someone else in the world thinks of him too. 
Thank you momma.  I love you.

And as usual....the moon was brightly shining above...my sweet boys way of saying hello.

Hello there:)

Yet again...I have let nearly a month slip by with no words from the soul.  I am still alive, and well. 
I am trying incredibly hard to be in the spirit of Christmas this season, even put my tree up BEFORE December, which is a first for me.  There is still sorrow in the air as we approach what should have been.  If Sebastion had lived, he would be turning ONE year old at some point soon...his due date was 12/21.  Oh how different life would be.  I have been feeling guilty, as I haven't been to the cemetery in a couple of months.  I have every intention of getting out there to put up Sebastion's tree, but the past few weeks have been a monsoon of rain and it has been too muddy.  Now it is cold, and hopefully one day this week I will make it happen, and get some quality time and photos.

  Hope you all (if anyone still reads this) are well.  And if you haven't been to my other blog... check it out...will be updating with happier posts over there:)
http://asunamoonandarainbow.blogspot.com/

So, it seems I have become incredibly bad at the whole blog thing.  I haven't even been keeping up with fellow bloggers posts, and it would seem that I have missed out on a lot.  I hope you are all well, and that the upcoming holidays are gentle on you.

As far as my little world...  At times I feel like it is crumbling down.  I feel as though anyone outside of the baby loss community has completely forgotten about Sebastion, and if they haven't forgotten, they just plain do not care anymore.  His father included.  And as I struggle with emotions and fears during the pregnancy of our rainbow, he and I continue to grow farther and farther apart.  It terrifies me.

Nearly a week ago a fellow co-worker and friend received a VOICEMAIL stating that the results of her amnio had come back, and that her baby girl did in fact test positive for down syndrome.  Not only that, but a week or so prior, she also found out that her baby's heart only has 3 chambers, instead of 4.  My heart aches for this poor girl, and I hope and pray that god performs a miracle and heals her child in the womb.  Upon discussing the situation with another friend and co-worker in my home, D chimes in and tells me, and I quote "I'm sorry, but if you found out that our child had down syndrome, and YOU didn't get rid of IT, I would leave you."  Seriously. Word for word.  My heart is still crushed, and we really haven't spoken since, other than when I confronted him about it days later he stated that he may have been a 'little' harsh, but after how I was with losing Sebastion, he couldn't even imagine how bad I would be in that situation.  And that I didn't have to LIVE WITH MYSELF after he died.   Again.  Dumbfounded.  I have to live with myself each and every miserable moment of my life since that fateful day.  And will continue to have to do so for the rest of my life.  Apparently, according to his perspective, I am just supposed to be able to sweep the fact that I gave birth to our DEAD son under the rug.  Forget about it, life goes on. At least for the rest of us.  I wish I knew how that was possible.  I had actually started feeling like I was in a good place, and then the big bad proverbial wolf came and blew my house down.  I miss Sebastion deeply, I always will.  And I am terrified of what will happen to my mind IF our rainbow should befall the same fate... but I am so full of hope that THAT will not be the case.  I am doing everything I can to keep myself, and him, healthy and to stay optimistic... But. I am starting to feel as though D could care less.  I chose not to have an amnio, because for me, the results wouldn't matter.  I will love my child regardless, and the less stress, the better.  But now I have to worry about whether or not we will be alone.
When I was pregnant with our first child, he would come to every prenatal appointment with me.  I think he may have missed one.  But he was great!  With Sebastion, he worked at a different job than with our first, and he missed a few appointments, but still came when ever he was able to.  And now, when I need support more than ever... and I have more appointments than ever before... he has made it to one appointment, and one ultrasound.  I understand, life is busy.  I do.  But... fuck.

Remembering all our babies...

October 15th.  This year, to me, seemed so much easier than last.  Perhaps it was because my heart has a more time to mend...or because I didn't attend any functions on the actual...or because I have a new hope in the rainbow within... it is hard to tell the actual reason(s).  But for me, the day was rather peaceful. 
No. That does not mean that I am no longer sad over the loss of our sweet son...only that the hard days of breakdown and uncontrollable sobbing are fewer and farther between.  I hope this some what sense of peace can stick around for awhile.  I need all the strength I can get with this little miracle on the way.

Wave of Light

I wanted to make something special this year for the wave of light, so I made the candle above.  The front, of course is in honor of our sweet baby boy, and on the back I tried to include all the names of Sebastion's friends in heaven.  I let it burn for nearly 5 hours, but I think that I may continue to light it from time to time when I am feeling blue.  Most likely, I will end up making a new one for next year, but as of right now, I could pack it away and still have all the names for next October.  Sadly though, there will likely be more names to add to it by then.

I miss my baby.  I wish he were here with me. If he had been born near his due date, he would be 10 months old right now.  Oh how different life would be. Sigh.

Feeling a little teased...

So I recently had an OB check up and finally got up enough courage to ask my Dr about the possibility of obtaining copies of the images taken at Sebastion's final ultrasound, whether or not they would even still be on file.  He instantly responded with a yes and made a quick phone call to radiology.  They told him that they could have the photos to me by the following morning.  Just a couple of hours went by and I received a phone call from the docs office stating that my photos were there and could be picked up at any time.  I raced over with excitement!  New photos of our baby... photos I had never seen.  YES, they were photos of him taken after his heart had stopped beating, but non the less... they were still photos of my precious baby.  Sigh... The receptionist hands me the photos, I politely say thank you and begin to look at them as I walk away.... The images look all too familiar.  Then I look to the top... 13 W 5 D... (9/14/11). My heart sank. (don't get me wrong, I love to look at photos of our rainbow too)  I immediately returned to the window and handed the photos back to the receptionist.  I told her I was sorry, but these photos are images that I already have...from THIS pregnancy.  She just looked at me dumb founded.  I went on to explain that the photos I had requested were from my previous pregnancy, the one that ended in stillbirth.  She just gave me this look like 'why on earth would you want pictures of your dead baby?!'  And then asked if I knew what date they would have been taken on.  August 10, 2010..without hesitation.  She wrote down the date and said she would see what she could do....
Two days have passed since then and I have not heard a word.  I feel let down:(   I will call tomorrow to check, but still... why tease a broken heart?


**update**
I spoke with the receptionist today and she informed me that my doctor actually had a sit down meeting with radiology over the issue.  The have the photos on record, but they are on microfilm, so it will take some time to look through all the film and find them.  They will contact me when they know anything further.

Sebastion's 1st Birthday in heaven

I've been meaning to update for a couple of weeks now, but I just haven't been able to bring myself to do it.  I wanted to make this post 'perfect'... a beautiful tribute to a beautiful boy with truly inspirational and heartfelt wisdom on how passing the one year mark brought some sort of relief to my grief... but... I just can't do it.  That would be a lie.  So instead.... here are some photos.

 His Stillbirth Certificate arrived on the anniversary of the day he died.  Unfortunately, the state of Ohio did not pay much attention when filling out the information, hence August is misspelled, as is Derek's name. :(  Think I can write to complain and get a new copy, typo free?

 I started my day off with a haircut.  A major one at that.  I donated 15 inches of hair to 'locks of love' in honor of my sweet son Sebastion. :)

The hair that was shipped off :)

The final result.

After the hair cut, my momma took Liliana, my niece Megan and I out to lunch....

Pickles and Ice Cream?  You would think with that appetite someone would be pregnant...haha.

In the evening, we headed to the cemetery.  A sweet friend of mine had been there earlier in the day to visit and left him the giraffe above, as well as 2 balloons that said Happy Birthday:)  We brought the giraffe home in fear that it would get broken, as we discovered a few minutes later that one of his Angels had busted:(

First birthday cupcake... We left it there... I wonder what lucky animal got to eat it?

We sang happy birthday... the tears started flowing.

Blowing out baby brother's candle.

 We sent balloons with messages to heaven... and watched them until we couldn't see them anymore.

Sebastion's birthday cards :)

 

Liliana wasn't feeling very well:(

And, of course.... the night ended with a full moon:)  That right there, couldn't have been anymore perfect.

A year ago... (part 2)

Once the doctor had left it did not take long for me to decide that it was best to start the induction the next day... there was no way possible that I could walk around for weeks KNOWING that my son had already died.  My mom drove me in my car to my house, my dad followed in their car, and Derek left to go pick up Liliana from his grandmother's house. Upon arriving at home, I sat on my my daughters playset in the back yard, crying,  until she arrived.   I do not remember much of the events of that evening...mostly just that I felt numb and did not move much. At some point I managed to climb in bed and try to get some sleep.

I awoke the next morning wishing that it had all been a nightmare.  Somehow I had actually slept lying on my belly, which had not happened in several months.  I remember thinking how odd that was.  Taking our little girl back to her great grandmothers house on the way back to the hospital was a bit torturous. I did not want to let her go.  I had no idea how long it would be until I would see her again, and she knew mommy was upset, but did not quite understand what was happening (she was only 2 at the time).

We arrived at the maternity ward just before 11 am... again, ringing the buzzer at the locked doors.  This time my response to the electronic voice was simply..."It's Bethany, I'm here to be induced."  BUZZZ.  As soon as I walked through the doors we were greeted by Brandy, the same nurse who delivered our precious daughter.  She gave me a gigantic hug and started crying right along with me.  We stood there in the hallway for a minute or so, then gathered ourselves, and she led us to our room.  Room 501.  The corner suite.  The very same room that Liliana was born in.  Eerie.
She began explaining the way the induction would work... they would hook me up to an IV to keep me hydrated and to push pitocin, and they would insert little pills into my cervix every four hours that would help with the softening and allowing me to dilate.  It could be a very long process, I was warned.  During said time, I would not be allowed to eat solid food.  Only ice chips, popcicles, broth, tea, etc.  Bleh.  I wasn't hungry anyway.  I hadn't eaten much of anything since I had left work the day before.  How was one supposed to think about food when their child was dead?
Derek and I settled in to our room for the long haul.  My mom joined us after a couple of hours and she stayed until the following evening.  She is an amazing woman, with a heart bigger than I can describe.  Most of the day was spent in silence.  Many people contacted my mom to see if they could come visit, but I did not want to see anyone. I did not care to have visitors. 
Brandy came in several times to talk to us about bereavement and funeral plans.  I remember her giving me a Purple folder full of different pamphlets on how to cope with the loss of a child...but I could not bring myself to read them.  I looked at them, but I could not see words.  Nor did I want to.
Every couple of hours a nurse would come in to check my cervix and/or give me more pills. 
I think around 9 pm Derek left to go get a sub from subway and brought one back for me, just in case.  It smelled delicious!  As he was eating, nurses kept coming into my room and he would sneak me bites in between their visits.  Food was needed by that point, and much appreciated, even though I was not technically supposed to eat it.
Around 11pm the contractions started to pick up to the point where I could REALLY feel them.  I refused to have an epidural because I did not want to feel any more numb than I already did.  I wanted to feel every bit of pain because it would be the last I would feel my sweet boy inside my womb...moving or not.
I tried sleeping on and off throughout the night, but did not have much luck.  Around 4:30 am the pain was so bad I was too the point of clutching to the side rails. I remember the nurse coming in to check on me and saying it won't be much longer.  At around 4:45 my water broke, and I began to feel immense pressure.  Our sweet little boy was born silent at 4:50 am with no one in the room but myself, Derek, and my mom.  I have no clue where the nurse was...she came running in just after he was born, cut the cord, wrapped him in a blanket and handed him to me. 
The pain in my body instantly stopped.  For a moment, it was calm and quiet.  I kissed our sweet son on the forehead and stared into his face for a several minutes.  I could not get over just how beautiful he was.  His body was still warm, soft, and smooth.  His lips were perfect.  He had one eye open and it was staring right at me. Finally, I asked Derek if he would like to hold him.  As soon he exchanged from my arms to his, I looked at Derek, sobbing, and said "Sebastion?"  He instantly agreed with a nod and tear stained cheeks.  We had not chosen a name... we had several written down, but we both agree that we can not actually name a child until we have met them face to face.  Liliana was 36 hours old before we decided on her name.
The nurse had given us about 15 minutes to spend with our son, and then returned to check on me, as I had not yet delivered the placenta.  Another nurse came and took Sebastion to the nursery to clean him up.  After several minutes of pushing, I felt a tug on the umbilical cord, the nurse had yanked on it to speed the process along, which in turn made the placenta come out in pieces. 
About an hour later, an ultrasound tech showed up to do an internal scan to check and see if there were still fragments of the placenta left inside my uterus.  How pleasant that was after just giving birth.  Indeed, there was... so I would have to have a DnC the following morning.  Yet another day confined behind hospital walls....

A year ago...

 Listening to 'Mad World'... this song always gets me.



On this day, one year ago, I walked into our local hospital and proceeded straight up to the maternity ward as I had already spoken with the nurses at my doctors office, he was out of town.  I had spoken with the charge nurse on duty as well... they were expecting me.
I buzzed at the locked door..."May I help you?" asked the electronic voice... " I am here to have my babies heart beat checked" ... "Yes, come right in."
Inside I was greeted by a face I will never forget, Shylah.  Miss Shylah is the head of the grieving department for our local hospital, who just so happened to be on duty that fateful day, August 10, 2010.  I did not learn this information about her until after the fact.
She took me into a room and began asking all sorts of questions about my son, kick counts, when the last I had felt him move, and family medical history.  She then asked me to change into a hospital gown and hooked me up to a fetal monitor.  After several minutes of only detecting my heart beat she proceeded to try to find the babies heart beat using a dopler.  After nearly 10 minutes of being unsuccessful, she called in another nurse to try as well... reassuring me that the baby was probably just lying behind the placenta.  At one point, she was nearly positive that she had felt the baby kick against the dopler probe, but I told her I hadn't felt anything.
The second nurse had no luck either, so they called for an ultrasound tech.  At this point I had already been in the hospital, alone, for nearly an hour.  Derek had just started a new job and I did not want to worry him if it was unnecessary.  A few minutes later, a very familiar face walked through the door pushing a mobile ultrasound machine.  She is the daughter of  a family friend... the same girl who had just weeks before confirmed for a second time that we were having a boy, and performed all of the ultrasound scans that we received with Liliana.  She looks at me worried..."What's going on miss Bethany?"...  deep breath..."I haven't felt him move in far too long, and now the nurses can not find a heart beat".  She takes a deep breath..." I am going to take some photos. You will not be able to see the monitor screen, and I will NOT be able to tell you anything."  Gasp.  "Will you at least tell me if he is moving?!" "No, sweetie, I am sorry, I can not tell you anything, you have to wait for the doctor."
I stare up at the ceiling, fighting back the tears, as I listen to the woosh sound of each photo she takes.  It did not take her long.  She was silent, and would not look at me.  When she finished, she gathered up all of her things and headed towards the door.  "Have a good day" I said to her as she left.  She did not respond. Did not even look back.  If she had, I would have seen the tears in her eyes.  The door closed and I was left ALONE once again.  At this point, I began texting my mom, trying to make small talk to pass the time while I waited.  and waited.  and waited.
At 4:20 (ish), nearly 2 hours after arriving at the hospital, the door opened and Shylah walked in.  She sat down on the bed beside me and put her arm around my shoulder. " Did your friend say anything to you?" she asked. " NO! She said she was not allowed to discuss anything with me."  She took a deep breath and said "I'm sorry Bethany, but your baby has died."
The words echoed in my head over and over again as tears streamed down my face.  She asked if I had anyone I could call to come and be with me, and said she would give me a few minutes to myself.  I collapsed in the bed, curled up in a fetal position and the river gates opened.  I have never cried so hard in my entire life.  Ever.   After a few minutes, I dialed my moms phone...she answered  "Hello?" She had just started relaxing on the back patio with a nice glass of lemonade on a hot summer day.  "Mommmmm.... I neeeeeed you."  I could hear the panic in her voice.  "OK.  Where are you? What happened?!"  Between sobbs I managed... "hospital.  the baby is dead."
My parents walked through the door 10 minutes later.  They live 15- 20 minutes away.  The loving embrace I received from them both, is another moment I will never forget.
I could not gather the courage to call Derek and tell him over the phone that his son had died.  I just couldn't do it.  My parents both offered, and I decided that I would rather someone go to him and tell him in person.  I called his best friend, who was also a co-worker who had the day off.  I pleaded to him to travel the 40 minutes to their place of business to tell him with a loving hug.   He said he would take care of it.  40 mintues later, Derek walked through the door, head down.  He took one look at me and tears started flowing through out the room.  His friend had not respected my wishes and instead, called him and told him over the phone.  (I still have not forgiven him for that, but that is another story for another day.)    The doctor FINALLY arrived.
He reaffirmed that our son had died and proceeded to tell us about our 'options'.  He stated that we could wait until my body decided to reject the fetus and go into labor on its own, which could take weeks, or we could choose to induce labor.  Yes, he was that harsh and matter of fact about it.  When my mom spoke up and asked "Why can't you just do surgery?!  You mean to tell me that after all that she has already been through, she still has to give birth?!"  He explained that, yes, it was better that way.  A c-section would be unnecessary and more of a risk than needed.   He left us to make a decision.   Which I quickly decided that I needed to be with my daughter.  I wanted to go home.  We would return the next morning to start inductions.

***The words have flown through my tears this evening. *** To be continued....

12 days...

At this point, one year ago, I was still full of bliss with visions of the perfect family in my mind. A beautiful little girl and a baby brother on the way... what more could you ask for, right?  Oh, how I miss the old carefree ME. 
Today, I struggle with the fact that HIS birthday is 12 days away.  I struggle with the fact that my sweet little boy will spend his 1st birthday in the arms of Jesus, while my arms are still aching for him to be in them.  I thank god for holding my child, and for blessing me with a little rainbow bean whose heart is beating inside of me, BUT I can't help but think of how different things should be.  I KNOW that if Sebastion WERE here with us that the likelihood of this new baby existing would be slim, but NOT impossible.  But at the same time, this precious little miracle would not have a guardian angel for a big brother.  It's all part of God's plan, right?  But it really doesn't make it hurt any less.

I miss my boy, my son, my Sebastion.

And this morning I awoke from nightmares.  Horrible, horrible nightmares of losing yet another child.  My biggest fear.  A fear that I am sure will not subside until the day this child is born.  I pray daily for the strength to continue, and for the health of my baby.  As much as I pray, the fear remains.  Especially in my dreams.

New Blog...

With new life changes, comes new life ramblings...

I have started a new blog (not that very many people actually read this one)...

For those of you who are interested, please, check it out, as I will likely be posting there more often than here... but if you are a facebook friend, please refrain from mentioning anything you may see on either of my blogs there, as I try to keep the two worlds seperate and haven't made the 'announcement' to many friends or family. 

Thanks!!http://asunamoonandarainbow.blogspot.com/

Missing him.

It is now only a matter of weeks until Sebastion's first birthday in heaven.  It all just seems so UNREAL.  Today, we are supposed to be attending a family reunion for Derek's side of the family. The same family reunion that we attended last year while I was still pregnant... still oblivious to the life that was set out before me.  It was a nice time spent with his family, and D's cousin who was due with her first child 2 days after me.  She had just found out she was having a girl, and we had known for awhile that we were expecting a boy.  We talked of how great it would be that our kids could grow up together.  Oh.  I f only that were true.  I do not know if I can go today.  Surely, the beautiful little 7 month baby girl will be there in all her drooly, teething, growing, meeting milestone glory.  Every time I look at her, it is kind of like a kick in the face.  Harsh? Perhaps.  But it does hurt.  I miss him so.

I am still trying to decide what to do for Sebastion's birthday.  I DO know that I would like to release balloons at the cemetery along with a graveside family picnic.  I have been planning to donate my hair in his honor for about six months now, and I think I will actually make my appointment for the day before... some special little child will be receiving a LOT of hair:)  I also had planned on getting his memorial tattoo for his birthday, but circumstances have changed, and the tattoo will have to wait!  I would also like to donate at least one memory box to the hospital where he was born, but I have yet to start on putting it together... guess I should shopping huh?

I hope that what my friends and fellow baby loss momma's say is true, the anticipation is worse than the actual day.  I had hoped to have his headstone before his birthday, but seeing how D and I have not found a day when we can go pick one out TOGETHER that will not happen... I do still hope that we will at least get it ordered before his special day arrives.  Headstones.  One thing a parent should never have to purchase for their child.  

Rest in Peace Great Great Grandma

Liliana's great- great grandmother has gone to be with the lord.
For 3 years, 3 months, and 8 days there were 5 living generations on Derek's side of the family.  Beulah lived a good life of 92 years, and she will be deeply missed.

Saying good bye is never easy:( 
But I know in my heart of hearts that she is in heaven, bouncing Sebastion on her knee, with the biggest smile on her face that you could imagine.

time...it's a funny thing.

Yesterday marked 11 months since the day I was told my child no longer had a heartbeat.  Tomorrow shall mark 11 months since he was birthed into this world and I held him in my arms.  I am having a difficult time accepting that this next month will be the count down to an ENTIRE year since our sweet Sebastion left our lives so quickly.

As bitter sweet as it may be, I do thank God for giving me the gift of Sebastion.  As painful as it has been (and always) will be to lose him... I have become a different me.  A better me, I'd like to think.   My heart has been opened and my soul has reached magnitudes that I did not know where possible.  I have been blessed with so much love, and have felt a love that fails in comparison to anything from my past.  As weak as I feel at times, I know in my heart of hearts, that I have become that much stronger.  Losing my son, has taught me how to give.  To give to others who feel the same, wretched, pain.  I can only hope that the spirit of giving, never goes away.

A few weeks ago, I finally mustered up the courage to go to the health department to pick up Sebastion's death certificate.  The day that we buried his ashes, my cousin had given me a silver scroll that was engraved with his full name, and intended to hold a birth certificate.

It has sat on our mantel, empty, for nearly 11 months now.  Knowing that I will never have a birth certificate for it to hold, I thought, at least it could hold his death certificate... some official document to prove that he existed.... So, I was greeted by the man in the records department, with "May I help you?"   I took a deep breath and stated  "I would like to get a copy of my son's death certificate"  and out of desperation "and birth certificate, if you actually have one"   He pulled out some books, and asked for his name and dates.  After searching through the first book, he bluntly told me... "Nope, no record of a birth certificate, was he born in Knox County?"  My answer..." yes sir, he was still born at KCH."  He gives a simple "sorry", and opens the next book.  "What was the name again?  I'm not seeing it here either."  He looks for a few minutes and tells me that there is no record of a birth certificate, or a death certificate for Sebastion.  I fight back the tears and say..." Well sir, I gave birth to him, and then I buried him.  I had to fill out information for his death certificate before the funeral home could have him cremated, so I suggest you check again."  He gets his manager.  With in 5 minutes, she finds his records in another book.  She informs me that she has to make a phone call before his records can be released, so I wait, a long and torturous 5 minutes.  Once she is off of the phone, she comes to me and hands me an orange post it.  (A fucking post it!  How does that compare what I was in search of??!!)  She tells me that she can NOT give me any records... it is POLICY that 'those' records have to be issued from the STATE, and not the county.  WHAT THE FUCK?!   So, on said post it is a phone number that I may call to make a request... and an address if I should wish to write a letter.  Sigh.  I am about to make that call, as I haven't found the courage to be nice enough to write a letter.

*Update*  I called the number I was given... and reached the DMV.  Thanks lady.  You fucking moron.

 **Update 2**  After some online research I have completed a form to mail in for a stillbirth certificate...hopefully this works.

Dandelion love

 My view of the world before Sebastion was a part of it...

And my view after...

Thank you baby, for helping me to see the beauty in all things, big and small.

I can not wish for the one thing my heart desires most... but I can wish to always feel your spirit when the wind blows, when the moon glows, and on the wings of dragonflies, butterflies, and the twinkle in my eye.

Been awhile

My computer died a few weeks back , but I am still alive. Updating from a mobile device isn't much fun... Wish I had written about many things in the past few weeks but alas, we can all see that is not the case. Someday soon I shall return to blogger land...until that day I wish you all peace and love:)

It can't rain all the time...

I have been feeling a bit under the weather this week... my daughter actually started with the crud nearly a week ago, and I followed in her foot steps a few days later.  The weather in these parts hasn't exactly been picture perfect either, which tends to let spirits sink a bit as well.  We actually even missed church this week for the first time since we started going.  I've been feeling a bit guilty about that, and about the fact that it had been weeks since my last visit to the cemetery.  I should have gone to see him on mother's day.  I did not.

Today, it did not rain for the first time since friday ... I'm not really sure.  So as my daughter, the puppy and I were on our way to my parents house so that I could do the bi-weekly cleaning of my grandparents portion on the house, I decided it a good idea to stop by for a visit. 

Upon turning into the cemetery I could tell that it had been freshly mowed, which I found a bit odd considering all the rain of late.  I pull the car around the drive and stop at the top of the hill looking down at his grave and I notice a vase laying on it's side.  I instantly think... I didn't bring flowers the last time I was here.  Did I? I wrestle the puppy and getting Lily out of the car seat and we walk down the hill to see her baby brother... That's when it hits me... someone has been here.  Some. one. else.


I kneel down and lift up the tumbled vase.  Wilted flowers still  holding onto their color follow it's lead.  Someone had brought my baby flowers.  I was touched.  And then I saw the laminated piece of paper that was trapped beneath the fallen vase.  I picked it up and brushed away the wet grass and dirt to reveal a poem... I quickly scanned to the bottom to see if there was a name and there it was....

Sebastion Rush Scott.

Some one had thought of my baby.

I began to read the poem... tears filling my eyes... and then I stopped.  I looked at my daughter and explained what I had found and asked if she would like me to read it aloud.  'Yes momma'...as she chased Obi around in circles.  As I read the words to BOTH of my children the tears streamed down my face.  With all the poems and versus' and quotes that I have come across along this journey, this was not something that I had read before.  

When you remember ME smile

Hello I'm here in heaven

that is where I am suppose to be

It's not to bring you sorrow

But love and peace and joy

God needed me for a purpose

My death was not in vain

I never had to suffer

Or was never in any pain

I want to let you know that

Heaven yes it's true

That Jesus not only died for me

But he died for also you

So this is what I need to say

Don't be sad and don't you cry

For Jesus is taking care of me

Up in These Heavenly skies

I want to ask you something

Do you truly know my Lord

Have you ask Him in your heart

Because He wants to give you more

It was my time to pass

But it's your time to live

Have peace that Jesus lives in you

And you'll see me once again

I'm being taken care off

Heaven's beautiful to see

But it's time to stop mourning 

And to set my spirit free

I love you all Remember this

I know your hearts been breaking

But Heaven is the greatest place

Now go on and start living

We stayed for a bit... I took some photos.  Lily needed a break from the dog (literally, she told me so) and went and rested on Uncle Tom's bench (popsy)... his grave overlooks Sebastion.  Tom was my dad's best friend. He died the same year I was pregnant for Liliana... if she had been a boy,  her middle name was to be Thomas in his honor.

After a few more minutes it was time to move on, so I packed us all up in the car to drive down the hill to my parents house... when I pulled into their driveway my daughter proclaims:

"Mommy, I'm upset." 

'What's wrong sweetie?'

"I miss Ash-ton." pouty lip.  "I miss baby brother." 

the tears started flowing... 'I know you do baby.  I miss him too.'

And as I type this at 4 am, I have a smile on my face as I remember my son... he sure was a kicker:)

Love you baby boy.  And oh how it warms my heart that others think of you too.

Mother's Day in photos....

This first photo is actually a bit of a christmas present that carried over to mother's day/birthday...
Back in December a dear sweet friend of mine won a giveaway that was hosted by the lovely Crystal and out of the kindness of her heart...she decided to gift the prize to me.   Crytal and I exchanged a few emails and it took me some time to decide what I would like the pendant to be...
I have several pieces of jewelry to honor Sebastion...but at the time I did not have any pieces to honor Liliana...

The meaning behind this wonderful piece:  When Liliana was born we planted a weeping willow tree at my parents house in her honor, it has grown beautifully in the past 3 years.  It only seemed fitting that when Sebastion came into our lives, that we plant a weeping willow in his honor (and memory) as well.

As far as the background... if you have visited my blog before then you already know that Sebastion is my little moon baby... and Liliana is my sunshine:)
I ABSOLUTELY adore this piece and wear it proudly!  And the fact that it arrived just before Mother's day was perfect. Thank you so much Crystal!

My first mother's day with out my son was rather... emotional to say the least...but it was a beautiful day, and my daughter and family helped keep my spirits up:)  The beautiful card above was given to me by my wonderful parents.

We started the day off by going to church... the service was rather moving and Derek and I were both in tears while thinking of our sweet son.  After church, we attended a family mothers day brunch and had some good bonding time with all the women in my moms side of the family...then it was off to the greenhouses:)

 Our puppy traveled with us for the day, and got hungry along the way.

I guess I forgot to mention that we did not have the heart to take him back to the puppy farm... we decided that even though he may not live long, we will give him the best life that he can have while he is with us...and as one of my friends so clearly put it...when Sebastion is ready for him, he will call him to heaven:) 

 Most of these flowers were gifts from my parents... I love spending time working in the dirt:)

                                                               Mommy's little helper!



And the beautiful gifts from my children  (yes, Derek even thought to include Sebastion's name on my card)

                                              tree necklace because I am a tree hugger:)

    Derek actually made this with a little help from Liliana... the green peridot gems are Sebastion's birthstone.

It goes beautifully with my Mom of an Angel bracelet, and the bracelet that my previously mentioned friend sent me in the mail as a surprise months ago.  Love you Trena! You are the best!

"Pup-Pup"

The cute little face that has melted our hearts, has a bad heart:(

The lady that sold him to us stated that she was informed that he had a heart murmur, but she told us that it was a grade 1 or grade 2, which most puppies tend to grow out of.  Today I took pup-pup to the vet to be informed that he has a 'significant' heart murmur, most likely a Patent Ductus Arteriosus (PDA).  The only treatment... open heart surgery.  Aye. Aye.

So now the dilema...  To keep pup-pup, or to take him back to the puppy farm.

When D went to get the puppy he had worked out an agreement with the seller that if we took him to the vet and found out that his condition was worse than previously stated, we could return him and get our money back.  I must say, the money is NOT the issue here.  The issue at hand is our daughter.  WE do not want her to become attached (too late)  to 'pup-pup' and have him die at an early age.  We try to protect our children from heartbreak where ever and when ever possible, right?  The vet stated that he will NOT live a 'normal' life span... by no means will he live into his teens.  He should behave like a 'normal' puppy, but as he grows, so will the heart defect.  He may only live to be a year old, maybe 3 or he could surprise everybody and live to be 7 or 8, but she does not expect him to live a long life.  That being said, we could make the best of the life that he has.  If we take him back to the seller, the poor little guy will be put back into the cages in the barn with the 50-75 other dogs and most likely not have much of a life at all...unless somebody else falls in love with him like we did, and can afford the thousands of dollars for open heart surgery to possibly expand the expectancy of his lifetime.   If we were to return him, we would definitely keep searching for another puppy and have hopes that THAT puppy would be healthy... but NOTHING in life is guaranteed.  Oi Vey!

So, I will leave you with this question... if this was your family, and YOUR decision to make... what would you do???

puppy love

Our little girl finally did it! She convinced us we needed a new face to love....

And we our suckers for love, and for our little girl:)

Isn't he cute?!

 We have yet to choose a name...updates to come.

Sigh of relief...

Thank you to those of you who have had me in your thoughts and prayers!

I met with the breast specialist/surgeon yesterday and was given good news:)  She reviewed my charts and asked tons of questions and then informed me that the ultrasound and mammogram results showed a cyst... thus meaning I have a condition known as fibrocystic breast changes (formally known as fibrocystic breast disease).  Apparently this is extremely common in women in their 30s and 40s, and will cause 'lumpy' breast and lots of pain and tenderness just before a menstrual cycle.  She did perform another ultrasound in the office because when she was doing a hands on exam she was concerned about the mass that she was feeling, but the ultrasound showed that I evidently have really dense breast tissue.  So that i can LIVE with!  The surgeon scheduled me for a 3 month follow up just to keep an eye on me, and if the cyst should grow in size, then I may have to have it drained or removed.  Now I feel as though a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders, and I no longer have that persistent feeling that someone is about to tell me that I have Cancer.  For the time being... I get to keep my boobs!  As lumpy as they may be, they are still mine:)

In other news... my desire to have another baby continues to grow and grow.  D is still not ready, and physically, neither am I .  I really need to focus on getting into shape.  I told myself after losing Sebastion that I would not allow myself to fall into a depressive weight gaining rut, but in that I have failed.  I can't really say I have gained that much weight...  more so that I never really lost the baby weight  from when I was pregnant with my daughter.  Considering she is now 3 years old, I REALLY need to focus on getting back to my pre-mommy size, or at least within 10 pounds...not 35.  So that being said... I am on a journey to lose 25 pounds in 3 months.  Any helpful hints or tips to help this Momma get her figure back?  I'm hoping in doing so that I may regain some much needed self confidence, and then I may be READY for TTC:)  All I can do is try, right? Got nothing to lose but the pounds! 

An Ultrasound and a Mammogram

Let me start off by saying that no matter how much I keep telling myself that everything is going to be fine, I'm am still extremely fucking scared.  I can not help but wonder, what if?

That being said... this is my experience so far:

About a month ago, while laying in bed with my amazing boyfriend I noticed that my breast were a bit tender and began to feel around a bit on my right side...that is when I felt it... this lump/mass/THING that shouldn't be there.  I think I held my breath for a minute and tried to wish it away, but that obviously did not work, so I grabbed D's hand and placed it on my breast and asked if he felt the same thing.  D is not a firm believer in medicine, neither am I, but his immediate response was.."You better get that checked out.  Normally I say OH it will be fine, just suck it up... but YOU, you need to do something about that."  Ok, so I wasn't crazy, there IS really something there.  Sigh.

The next morning I called my trusted OB/GYN to set up an appointment...the receptionist questioned me on the nature of my visit and I choked up.  She asked again and I managed to get the words out... 'Ummm... I have found a lump in my breast.'  She quickly replied... 'Which breast?' ...without hesitation, as I am sure this is not the first time she has taken a phone call of this nature.  'Right.' I responded.  She then explained that Dr.S was on vacation for the next week and a half and that my appointment is scheduled for April 19th.  Wow, an entire month of waiting.  I contemplated going to my family physician instead because I was confident that I could be seen by him sooner than that, but I feel A LOT more comfortable with Dr S, and I feel that breast issues were more suited to be taken care of by him.  I chose not to talk to any friends or even family about my situation until I knew more myself.  It was a LONG month.

As I shared before, I had my appointment with Dr. S. on tuesday, at which time he did an exam and stated that he felt the mass to be a cyst.  He ordered an ultrasound and referred me to a wonderful RN who takes care of all breast issues.  Being an uninsured mother with a lump in the breast, I had to ask about cost.  Dr. S.  simply said, 'Let me see what I can do.'

Yesterday.  I received a call from the wonderful RN, Becky, first thing in the morning.  We talked for a few minutes, and she stated that she felt I should have a mammogram as well.  So, I went in yesterday for a mammogram and an ultrasound. 

Up first... mammogram.  I registered with the receptionist, at which point Becky came out to meet me and present me with a stack of paper work for me to complete.  As it turns out I qualified for a grant (The Coleman Grant) to cover the cost of the mammogram... and if it should be needed, the same grant will cover the cost of a biopsy.  I did not have to wait very long for my name to be called, and a sweet young girl came to greet me and take me back to radiology.   After changing into a hospital gown that ties in the front instead of the back, I was led into the room with the mammogram machine.  First she had to ask the question... "Are you, or could you be pregnant?"  I responded with 'I don't think so, but my doctor sort of put a fear in my yesterday, so I'm not sure?'  She said, "I cannot take that for an answer... Yes or No?"  Deep breath.... "No."  I said.  She had me find the lump for her so that she could make a mark telling her where it was.  And then it began.  Mammograms are not nearly as painful as I had built them up to be in my mind.  Awkward.  Yes.  Painful, not really.  She took images of both breast so that the doctor could compare them to each other.  Top view and side view.  And then we were done.  I must say it is strange to have a girl, probably 10 years younger than myself, be tugging a pulling on my breast, and then flattening them between plates.  Odd.

Next stop.... ultrasound.  I was greeted by a VERY familiar face.  Emily.  Emily was the same ultrasound tech who did my 16 week ultrasound with Sebastion... the last photos we have of him alive.  She also was the second person to tell me that we were going to have a boy.  Add to those memories...she was also the ultrasound tech who was sent to my room after Sebastion was born to do an internal ultrasound to look for left over fragments of the placenta, which there were apparently lots of because I had to have a DnC the next day.  Emily is a very sweet lady.    I cannot even begin to describe how strange it felt to be back in THAT room, and NOT be looking at an image of a baby, or to have the warm gel spread on my belly. Instead, exposing my breast to be covered in goo.  Watching the images on the monitor, again, heartbreaking, really.     'Yes' Emily responded.  She proceeded to take several images of the entire breast, with each swoosh of the images being saved, my heart sank...and then I was finished. 

Now.  I wait.  And again, the waiting is the hardest part.  I likely will not hear from my doctor until tomorrow, as thursdays are his surgery days.  I KNOW he felt confident that we are not looking at Cancer, but I still can not get the idea out of my mind until I KNOW for sure.  All I can think is  I do not want my little girl to grow up with out a mommy.  I so desperately do not want THAT life for her... or for D for that matter.  And then I also have the thought, did my son die for the same reason... was his mommy too sick to take care of him, and he was sent to heaven to be with jesus, the best care giver of all?  Aye. Aye.

I have an appointment set up for tuesday with a Breast Specialist/ Surgeon.  I may not know anything until then.  I am not one to ask for prayers very often, but please, I need all the help I can get  right now.

dun dun dunnnn....

I should have realized that today would be anything but normal.  Today IS the 19th after all.

To start things off... my cat.  Oh how I love my big fluffy cuddly kitty..

.
but boy oh boy, can he piss me off?!  I'm not really sure that I got any sleep last night, as it seems that every time I fell  back to sleep, he was either headbutting my nose... licking my cheek... biting my hand... nibbling my ears... or digging his claws into my back.  Strike one.

That being said... once I finally decided to drag my ass out of bed I went about my morning routine... pee. wash hands. start coffee. shower.  ONE major problem here... the coffee didn't brew.  Stupid fucking coffee maker decided to just stop working.  And if you know me, you know I do not function with out my coffee.  Strike two. 

Off to work I go.  (Bonus... free coffee there, just not as good as what I make at home.) 

First table I had pay out and leave... stiffed me.  (For those of you who may not know... I am a slave server at a local restaurant.) Strike three.

Third table... stiffed again.  Only THIS time, the customer had actually HAD money laying on the table when I dropped off their change, but when I went back to pick up said tip, the table was empty.  So one of two things could have happened here... 1.  Bitch decided she needed the money more than I did, even though she had no complaints about any of her food/service.  or 2.  Someone walked by and picked the money up on their way out the door.  Either way!  That is just fucking wrong!  Strike four!

I know, I know.  There are only 3 strikes in baseball, right?  Well, technically yes.  BUT if the third strike is a fowl ball.... well then you get to swing again.

Moving on.  I learned a few things today.  First and foremost, my grandfather is to have surgery on thursday.  Heart catheterization.   Somewhat a basic procedure, yes... people have them all the time, yes.  But my grandfather is 85 years old, and just last week began slurring his speech.  It saddens me to think that he may not be with us much longer.  I love you grandpa.  Please keep him in your prayers.

One year ago today, I peed in a cup to confirm what I already knew to be true.  I was pregnant with my sweet Sebastion.  Today , I had a doctors appointment with the same doctor, but not for the same exciting reason.  Today I went into his office because about a month ago, I found a lump in my breast.  The past month has been a long month.  A VERY long month of waiting, wondering,  worrying, and keeping myself busy busy busy so as too not have an idol mind.  I only talked to D about it, he was the one that assured me that it was something I should have checked out... just in case.  So, today was the day.  And I still know nothing.  After a hands on exam, my doctor felt hopeful that the 'mass' was only a cyst.  I am to receive a call in the morning to set up an ultrasound (not a mammogram) to learn more.  He stated that if it was larger than (i can not remember the size, only that I know it seems larger than that) then he would have to drain it.  So... I am 90% certain that my poor breast will be poked with needles here in the next few days, and that saddens me, but not nearly as much as the alternative.  Obviously he couldn't say for sure without further testing, but he was hopeful that it wasn't Cancer.  That in itself, was the best thing I heard all day.  For that matter... all year.  So today, I also learned a few things about breast health...apparently if you find a lump, there are a couple of good 'signs'.  One... its a good sign if the lump moves when you push on it. And Two... its also a good sign if it hurts.  And in my case, both of those are true. 

And the other thing I learned today, I shall ponder for awhile...

8 months and church

Yesterday marked 8 months.  8 months!  Time is such a tricky thing.  I wonder daily what my life would be like if I were a 'normal' person again... mother of two, without all the grief and heartache.  I think back to when I was pregnant with Sebastion and how often I stated that I couldn't BELIEVE I was going to have two children... perhaps I knew from the start that something was wrong, but that never made me love him any less.  I miss his active little kicks in utero, so much so that 8 months later, I still feel the phantom kicks.  Phantom kicks are creepy I tell you. Creepy.  I have taken more pregnancy test in the past 6 months than in the rest of my life combined, mostly due to phantom kicks... hell I suppose I could have just become this incredibly gassy person overnight or something, but I really think it is more than that.  I miss him deeply, and apparently my body does as well.

While my 'mother-in-love' was visiting from out of state for my daughters third birthday we attended church, twice.  These two visits have been the first I have stepped into a church since my son died.  I have had my trials and tribulations with trusting god, and anger issues as well.  My first visit back, I cried.  Both sermons were based on "ARE YOU READY?"  Are you ready for the second coming of Christ? For Armageddon  and for the Rapture?... the teens performed a bit of a skit, if you will, and one girl in particular was more than I could take.  The scene started with a woman being mugged and shot. Boom. Gone.  Followed by a man and wife sleeping in bed. The man vanishes, she is left behind.  Two men walking up a hill, one vanishes, one is left behind... Then those that are 'left behind' start to panic and run around screaming looking for their lost ones.... the girl screaming for her missing baby was more than I could handle.  "MY BABY!! HAS ANYONE SEEN MY BABY?!!"  The panic and disbelief in her voice were overpowering, and I cried.  (She should think about acting school). Then Christ walks away with all of the 'chosen' ones, baby in arms, and those left behind huddle up and cry together... end scene.  Really a lot more touching than my brief description, but that was the gist of it.

The following sunday... while Pastor Tim is preaching along the same thoughts of 'are you ready?'  he begins talking about different reasons why certain people may have trust, or even belief, issues with god.   He is pacing back and forth, back and forth,  in the front of the church spewing about many reasons like financial issues, global crisis', tsunamis, earth quakes, death of a loved one, parents... and then he stops.  Looks me dead in the eye and says: "How could god take my baby?".  I think my heart skipped a beat.  His eyes were locked with mine for at least 5 seconds... small amount of time in retrospect, but an eternity while happening.  He then kept on walking and spewing on about how it wasn't god that made these things happen, it was the devil.  And that if you (I) put faith and trust in god (Christ) then, and only then will you be able to heal, with HIS help.   The thing is... he doesn't know.  I am not an active member of this church. I had actually only attended this church a few times previous to this month, and it had been over a year since.  I was attending a different church pre-death of a child.  (Haven't been back to that one either)  Keep in mind, I DO live in a small town, and this church is the church that my 'father-in-love' preached at when they lived in town, but that was 10 years ago.  I don't know.  Creepy.  Apparently god was speaking to pastor Tim at that very moment and even if he didn't think twice about his actions, it left a mark on me, and D, and the mother-in-love who both caught on immediately to what was taking place.  We discussed it in great detail later that evening. 

On a happier note... D and I have rekindled our love and affection for one another and it seems the honeymoon phase CAN come and go:)

the honeymoon is over...

Apparently every couple has a honeymoon phase, and I have been informed that ours has ended.  Funny, considering we are not married, or engaged, or what have you... it's only a piece of paper, right? 

In 4 years, 3 months, and 21 days time we have been through a lot a cluster-fuck of shit.  We have yet to celebrate any sort of anniversary.... couldn't tell you why, it's not like the dates do not exist, we just don't acknowledge them?  We celebrate birthdays, and some holidays, but anniversaries, not a one.  I guess I am still holding onto hope in that regards... or perhaps IF there comes a day that we DO become engaged, or (gasp) get married... we will celebrate those dates.  (I think it goes without saying, but I DO intend to grow old and gray with the love of my life... honeymoon or not)

In the beginning... we were both fragile, brittle, and a bit broken.  He picked me up when I was down and I pulled him down when he would climb too high.  I think back to the times when my family had yet to meet the love of my life... Me having been married at the age of 20 to my senior year boyfriend, and 4 years ago still awaiting court dates to finalize the divorce, and living on my own for the first time in my life, enjoying my new found UNcontrolled freedom... When our eyes first met, he took my breath away.  The most incredibly attractive man I had shared a smile with, no way did he even notice me.  A few weeks go by and we meet again.  This time we speak, as we find ourselves alone in the back of a mutual friends' car while said friend was taking a crap in the local wally world.  We were all headed to a show in the parking lot of our local Sam Goody (only music store in town)  to watch my soon-to-be Ex husband and a good friend perform songs I had heard far too many times over.  And a few that I hadn't heard before that were stabs at what an evil person I was for walking away.  Wow... that was an entire lifetime ago.  A part of my life I do not think of often.  Back to the beginning of the present (and future).  Back to the back of the car...we connected.  He made me nervous with his smile, it sliced through me like a warm knife in butter.  (it still does)  He made me smile... showed me a little light in my dark world.  And then he went with his friends, and I with mine.  When I scanned through the small crowd of people, I noticed him face down on the ground.  He is also quite the conversationalist when he is intoxicated.  Then I watched his friends pick him up and carry him off to the car... not a small feat I must add considering he is a man of 6 feet 4 inches, and his friends we more comparable to my size (and this was my skinny phase of life....oh how I miss the skinny phase).  Weeks went by before our paths crossed again.  I had become smitten with a crazy ass lunatic that shaved his eyebrows and wore a techni-color zebra plush robe whenever he spent the night at my place... which was rather often.  I was smitten, crazy ass lunatic was just a drunk who needed a place to rest his head and a body to hold to keep the room from swaying.  We had fun for a few months, and then he found another place to rest his head.  It broke me for a day or too, and Derek was there to tell me 'chin up'.  Cheer-up butter-cup.  He even wiped my tears away and took me for a midnight stroll.  Perfect.  He had already won over a piece of my heart.  He listened.  He cared.  He had a girlfriend.  In the days to follow he teased me with open invitations for a date... I never believed him, my self esteem was far too low to think HE could be interested in me.  At one point he even stated "You pick the time and the place, and we have a date..."  I thought about for weeks, and never actually came to a decision.  We frequented the same bar and one particular evening he decided to escort me home after a long night of drinking... you know, just to ensure my safety.  We nearly watched the sunrise that morning, just talking and listening to music...smoking on the incredible balcony of my apartment.  These evenings happened a few times over the next few weeks, and I recall an evening when I told him that he need not walk home, he was welcome to stay.  He was also welcome to sleep in my bed under the condition that he 'held me'... my bed, my rules.  He became my cuddle buddy.  Months went by before we shared our first kiss... that incredibly amazing wonderful delicious first kiss.  As it turns out, that incredibly attractive stranger that caught my eye really COULD be interested in little ole me. That was the beginning:)

The day my love met my momma was the day that my dad's best friend died.  My mom showed up at my house in hysterics, sobbing over the unbelievable loss of Tom... and Derek greeted her with a warm embrace.  From that moment on, he had won a piece of her heart as well. 


The first time he told me he loved me... we had been making out in the kitchen and he looked me in the eye and asked..."Have I told you that I love you yet?" to which I responded with a simple "No."  He then gives me a sweet little kiss and says..."Don't worry, I will."

A couple of months later, I had to have out patient surgery to drain a bartholin cyst... very  traumatic to have scalpels and needles in the vaginal area...even more so to have a cyst the size of a large egg covering the most private of parts.  *shivers* Not a good moment in history.  Needless to say, this put a stop to any 'hunk-a-hunk-a burnin' love activity for a few weeks... but he stayed by my side... and loved me for being me.

to be continued....