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I’m Finally Ready

Well, as ready as one can be after losing a child.

After we lost Ben, it took some time to receive his ashes. When we finally got them, we quietly decided that the best thing to do at the time was to lock them in our safe.

While we didn’t speak the words, I think it was mostly because we weren’t ready to accept it. So there his ashes sat, locked away along with our feelings about such a tremendous loss.

Recently, I felt it was time to take them out. Time to slowly face what happened, as difficult as it is.

The loss is too great and I still can’t seem to find the words to express my grief.

The pain comes in waves and I think the reason that it happens that way is because if grief came all at once, it would be too overwhelming to handle.

Too heartbreaking.

So much more heartbreaking and devastating than it already is when dealing with this grief every day.

But I’m finally ready to take this first step.

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The Trash Can Dance Off

oscarthegrouch1When my husband and I first got married, it was a really tough adjustment living with someone else. But we were in (mostly) newlywed bliss. Despite the several polite, newlywed fights, followed by the make up sex, rinse and repeat, we could do no wrong in each other’s eyes. Even when we wanted to kill each other at times.

About a year after we married and he graduated college, he joined the Navy, went to OCS, and came back home 3 months later. We soon hauled ass to Georgia where he went to school for 7 months. During this time, the newlywed bubble seemed to be popping and that’s when I noticed that my “perfect, could never do anything to annoy me husband” started to do those little annoying things.

When it came to taking out the trash, we were both stubborn as hell and still are. Hence, the trash can dance off.

You may know it. The trash can starts filling up and you stick your foot in it to smash it down and there you are with one foot in the trash can, one foot on the floor, and you may even add a little wiggle while weighing your foot (while wearing shoes) on the trash, stuffing it down as far as you can.

Because you don’t want to be the one to take it out. I leave feeling satisfied that I won’t have to deal with it, only to find out the next morning that he seems to have done the same thing. That’s when we know, without ever speaking about it, that the trash can dance IS ON! This game has been played between us for many, many years.

I’ll spend the day stuffing the trash down, certain that when my husband gets home, he will see it bursting at the seams and will take it out. My husband will come home and be certain that I’ll see that the trash can is bursting at the seams and he’ll think I’ll end up taking it out.

I’ll see the trash can right before bed with the lid poking up as if to say “Please, please one of you stop this silly shit and take me out! I’m going to explode!” I think to myself “There’s no way my husband will be able to put anything else in it the next morning.” And I will be certain that a fresh, new trash bag will be in it by the next day.

Nope.

That butthead is trying to out trash can dance me!! I’ll stuff it down even more with my foot but the lid isn’t having it and still pokes up. Fine, then I just won’t throw anything away today.

But even adding one tissue or paper towel to the trash makes the trash can wave the white flag and surrender. Damn it! Okay, okay, I’ll take it out this time.

But the next time my husband and I have a trash can dance off, I will win.

Oh yes, I will win!

Comments { 5 }

Our little strawberry picker.

averystrawberry11

averys1ststrawberry11

*Soul One

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Due

prints1

This week has been really rough. Baby Ben was supposed to be due this week. We lost him back in mid-March when I was 28 weeks pregnant. We had already lost him before he was born but we were able to see him afterwards.

We also got his prints which I haven’t looked at again until this week. I thought I would be able to handle setting out his ashes in the urn but when we received them, we locked them up in the safe.

The little hummingbird has been telling me lately that she really misses the baby that was in my belly. She often asks if I’m going to have another baby and the answer is I really hope so.

I have absolutely no idea when we’re going to try again but at the same time, I’m no spring chicken and don’t have a lot of time to wait. I’m also scared as hell when it comes to getting pregnant again.

I know I’ll be very happy if we just have our beautiful 5 year-old but I have made plenty of room in my heart for another child and I hope that gets filled.

*No Need To Argue

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What Spring?

The 4 1/2 yo little hummingbird was PISSED when she woke up this morning on the first day of Spring. She was expecting the sun to be shining, flowers in bloom, and birds chirping.

All she got were clouds, snow on the ground, and rain. Her little tirade had me in giggles. Mostly because she included “Well, shit!”.

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Benjamin

I went into preterm labor at 28 weeks pregnant. There were complications that I’d rather not get into right now and despite the best efforts of my doctor and nurses, we lost our son, Benjamin.

The little hummingbird isn’t really aware of what’s been going on and I’m not sure how to break it to a 4 year-old.

Earlier today, I had to fill out a cremation form and pick out an urn for my son. I wish all of this was just a nightmare.

I want to thank you all for your continued support.

*Sovay

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If I hear “why?” one more time, my head will explode and the hummingbird will grow up with a headless mother and that would really suck.

I thought the hummingbird was finally out of the why stage but it’s come back with a vengeance. I know she’s just curious and I should be more than happy to answer all of her why questions but it can drive me up the wall. Just today, I went to get blood work done and on the way to the clinic, she was full of questions.

My 4 year-old has also become quite the backseat driver. I answer her questions as best as I can but after awhile, I want to bang my head against a spike. I don’t know if it’s just little girls or if boys are just as “talky”.

Why do I have to wear my coat?

Why did you just make that noise *sighs*?

Where’s the sun?

Why aren’t there any cars?

Why is that car going slow?

Why are we stopping?

Why are we going this way?

Why aren’t we taking the highway?

Why are you slowing down?

Are you lost?

Why are you lost?

Mommy, are you lost?

Why did you just say “shhh”?

Why are we turning around?

Why are we stopping?

Are we at the clinic?

Why did you yawn?

Where’s the door?

Why did the door open by itself?

Can I play?

I need a tissue.

Why are the tissues sitting like that?

Why are they sideways?

Are we leaving now?

Why are we leaving?

Why are you turning the car around?

This isn’t the way home.

Is this the way home?

Why are you slowing down?

What’s that car doing?

Are you going the wrong way?

Why are we speeding up?

Are we home yet?

I’m hungry.

*Head Explodes*

*Radioactive

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