For me, triggers are something that are ever-changing. In the first days and weeks after we lost Luke, I couldn't bear to go out. There was one time I remember specifically when Jeff and I were out having breakfast together. And there was a Mom with her new baby--probably about the same age he would have been. In the same stroller and car seat that we had...living in the closet.
I had a small meltdown. Eating breakfast.
There was going into Target and walking by the baby aisle that first time.
And the numerous pregnancy and birth announcements that always seemed like a slap in the face...
There's always something. And the emotions are always changing. I don't feel the same as I did in those early days. And obviously, now I'm the one walkjng around pregnant, causing other baby-loss Moms meltdowns. If only they knew.
Lately, I feel like it's the little boys that I see around who are the same age Luke would be now. The sting of imagining what he would be like today will always be there. It will always haunt me. I don't see how they will ever get easier to look at.
But thank goodness these emotions are always changing. Because if everything stayed the way it was, I have no idea how I'd get through this.
To say I live for lyrics is an understatement. I have for pretty much my entire life. And when we lost Luke, I found myself finding different meanings in songs I'd listened to a million times. And then I came across this song. I've been a Ryan Adams fan for years, but the lyrics to this song never hit me the way they had after that day. And then I learned that sadly enough, Ryan wrote this song for a dear friend whose baby was stillborn. Her name was Elizabeth.
He captured my feelings on loss so perfectly, it's unbelievable. And now I kind of can't listen to it without bawling. Just the opening piano part gets me. But the yearning in his voice...and the frailty. Exactly.
Elizabeth, You Were Born to Play That Part--Ryan Adams
For you I'd do anything Tear myself in two Just to hear you breathe Calculate the changes that in time Turn to nothing and then multiply Yourself by my pain Over you is where I stand I wish I knew why But I don't understand I'm waiting on someone that just won't show And every night it seems like there's no tomorrow Not that you will ever know Wherever you are, I hope you're happy now I'm caught in a dream and I can't get out I'm caught in a dream I'm caught in an endless dream Wherever you are, I hope you're happy now I'm caught in a dream and I can't get out I'm caught in an endless dream And I'm not strong enough to let you go And I have tried everything But that Elizabeth
I can't say that I've started an organization or anything in Luke's name since he passed (though we have raised a substantial sum of money for the OC Walk to Remember in his name), but what I can say is this: He taught me, and many of those around me--that life is short. That tomorrow is never a given. I've always been a person that lived very much in the present, but this never became more clear that day we lost him. I never ever once believed that someone--let alone ME--could make it through 39 weeks of pregnancy and NOT go home with their baby. Those things don't happen anymore, I thought. I was wrong.
I'm not sure what made us wait so long to start a family, but that was one of the things that was hard to face when we lost him. First and foremost, none of us are given tomorrow. Now is all we have. To start a family. To kiss your children goodnight. To be happy. Don't wait.
There are a lot of myths I've encountered on this path, but probably the most obvious one is the 5 Stages of Grief. I think this path SOUNDS likes a great idea, but the reality is, you're never done grieving something like this. A loss of this magnitude. There are tons of days anger and depression live together. And acceptance...can be felt--I know I'm at that stage. But I think I will always have parts of me that are angry and depressed about what happened to Luke. There is no path with an end. Nothing is linear and clean. It's hard. And messy. And it always will be.
October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, and every year, the wonderful Carly Marie puts out a list of prompts for the month--To capture your grief.
I missed the sunrise yesterday, so I'm starting today...
The hand and footprints that the hospital took that day in the hospital mean everything to me. They're something...that he touched. The last...and probably only thing besides his hat that have will have his identity on them forever.
I feel like they give him his existence. Full on hands and feet. They were once here. And now they're gone.
The last week of October turned out to be kinda rough for me. I really wasn't in the mood to finish doing this, but I wanted to finish the challenge eventually, so here we go...
Day 26: Their Age
I took this picture of my cankles the day before we went to the hospital. Luke was born and died at exactly 39 weeks gestation on September 10, 2012. It seemed impossible--if we made it that far, that we could have lost him.
Day 27: Artwork
Pretty early after we found out we were having a boy, Jeff and I agreed to do Luke's room in a Star Wars theme. One of the first few things we bought was a Wampa rug off of ThinkGeek.com, and just a week before we lost him, we'd finally gotten these prints hung up that we had found on Etsy. I'm in love with them, and I wish he could see them.
Day 28: A Memory
There are so many memories I have, this being my first pregnancy. I can almost replay the entire thing back in my head--nearly week by week. I hope I never forget these memories, because playing them back in my head is all I have of Luke.
At about 18 weeks, we found out we were having a boy on a Wednesday, and then the next day, we went to Coachella, AND celebrated Jeff's birthday that weekend. There was so much to be excited about then. Jeff was so excited we were having a boy, and we talked about the possibility of someday bringing him to his first Coachella with us. We got him his first concert tee that weekend, too. So much to look forward to.
Day 29: Music
Pearl Jam's Light Years pretty much sums up the way I feel about losing Luke. I can't even think of one that's by any other artist that hits it on the head as well, and...well, it's fitting. We had they lyrics printed in the program for Luke's service, and to this day, I still haven't found a more personally-fitting song that we could have used.
Day 30: Your Grief – Tell The World
I don't want to be here feeling this. It's the last thing that was supposed to happen to me in MY LIFE. Nothing can prepare you for these feelings, but the one thing that we have going for us is knowing that so many of you care...and were/are there for us when we need/ed you. I know I'm a strong person, but this has shaken me to my core, and without your love and support...I don't know what this would be like. And I don't want to.
Day 31: Sunset
I kind of cheated and didn't take a picture on October 31...It was a bad week for me, and I was actually at my acupuncturist's office as the sun went down anyway...So I took this picture earlier this month--when we headed to Solvang/Santa Barbara to get away from everything. I've neglected my photography skills for a year or so now, and I decided to try to get some sunset pics on a sunset sailing cruise we took through the Santa Barbara harbor. It was a gorgeous sunset, and I could feel Luke shining down on us the whole time...I somehow managed to perfectly catch the sun setting inbetween the sails on this sail boat. I love this picture. It's beautiful and peaceful. Now if only I could find that within myself.
Luke was born at 5:23am on September 10, 2012 at St. Jude Medical Center in Fullerton, California. When we went in that Sunday afternoon, we got nothing but amazing care from the staff at the medical center. We had quite possibly the best nurse in the world...Sheri, if you're reading this, we couldn't have gotten through that day without you.
I've been behind on a couple of the posts this week...some of them, I feel like I couldn't really post anything about yet at this point...But here's to catching up a little bit?
Day 19--A Project
Mom and I have been talking about doing something to remember Luke with...We're just not sure where to start. It'll probably be a bit artsy, but we haven't really nailed anything down yet. In the meantime though, THIS is my project. For me. I've been a blogger for a long time now...I don't put it out there for the world to see anymore. But for this blog, I feel like putting it out there for anyone else that's going through this pain could only help someone. I know that I've found comfort in reading other baby-loss moms' blogs--Knowing that they're farther along in the grief process--but they're still going. They have families. They still remember their babies, but they've found a way to do that and continue on living.
It's also kind of serving as a way for me to...think right now. I used to mess around with coding a long time ago, so it's sort of fun and a challenge for me to customize, etc, right now. Maybe that's getting me ready to go back to work in some way?
But if I can help someone else feel better, that makes me feel better.
Day 20--A Charity/Organization
I've said it many times, but I'm so thankful for the OC Walk to Remember. The day everything happened...we found out about them at the hospital. They fund training for nurses at hospitals in the area who are taking care of patients like us at the hospital. They provide things for you at the hospital that you probably weren't expecting to need. They fund support groups to help the grief process in this situation, and they host an annual 5K in Tustin. This year we raised over $5000 for them, and I can't be more proud. This is not a club or organization you want to join, necessarily, but when you find yourself in it...you'll be glad they exist.
On October 6, we participated in our first Walk to Remember event here
in Orange County. I wasn't even sure if I'd be ready to do this when we
first heard about it in the hospital, but I'm so glad we participated.
The community of support for parents like us is huge. Between blogs I
find on the internet, groups like Walk to Remember, and support groups
(that we haven't even had a chance to participate in yet...but will),
I'm so glad we're not alone.
The grey shirts are everyone walking for Luke--But everyone else pictured has lost someone important to them as well. The support is overwhelming.
I can't even fit pictures if everyone that belongs in these pictures. ALL of you have been amazing to us...and we couldn't do without all of your support.
In Latin the meaning of the name Luke is Light Giving. I always liked the symbolism in that...so now I catch myself looking for bursts of light wherever I am, hoping that he's somehow there with me.
Since I haven't really had much time to figure out grief yet, for now, it's Luke's room. We never got around to getting the desk out of there, but it's just gonna stay for now. The car seat needs somewhere to go...
It's only been a month since we lost Luke, but literally about a week after, I got an email from one of my favorite websites, #shanalogic. And I saw this necklace, which was pretty much exactly the same leaf they put on my door at the hospital when we found out we lost him. It's a subtle reminder of him.
Pretty much anything along the lines of "I'm so sorry". There's nothing anyone can say that will make this better, but to genuinely say you care means the world.
I'll say that I've been pretty lucky in that I haven't really had anyone say something really terrible to me about what happened. Most everyone we know loved Luke in their heart already...and they share our pain with us. That's comforting just to know that.
Day 6 is kind of a tough. For the most part, I understand that it's hard to find the right words to say to someone that's...in our situation. Death is hard enough to talk about. An event as tragic as ours, is just beyond awkward to talk about. It's traumatic. And who likes to talk about giving birth? But what about when that's all you have to talk about your baby?
Anyway, the day we were making Luke's funeral arrangements at the mortuary, we met with Pastor Rick. Rick sat down with us, and we started talking. Jeff said something along the lines of 'Maybe God needed Luke more than us.' And Rick stopped Jeff and basically reiterated no, that's not true. You needed Luke more than anyone. This just shouldn't happen.
And he's right. I would never wish this on anyone. And there is no reason for cord accidents to happen to babies at 39 weeks. It just does. It's part of this mysterious, terrible, wonderful world we live in.
I feel like this is the greatest memorial Luke could've left behind--Helping others through the worst times of their lives. Tomorrow we're walking in the Orange County Walk to Remember in memory of our sweet boy, and the amount of money we've raised in his memory simultaneously saddens and overjoys me.
I wish that this wasn't a club that anyone had to join, but knowing there are groups like them out there trying to help soften the blow...to be able to contribute to that is a tiny ray of light in our lives.
This is the hardest one to look at, because it holds everything from that day inside of it. His blanket, his bracelet, his hand and footprints, his pictures...
