Friday, December 19, 2008


The other night while we were eating dinner Sean made a comment. Here is how the conversation went:

Sean: You've got to believe.
John: In what?
Sean: You've got to believe in the things you want.
Me: Who told you that? (Thinking this had something to do with Santa)
Sean: Daniel
Me: How did he tell you that?
Sean: In my dream. At first he was big but then he was small and I held him and rocked him and put him in his crib.
Me: That's nice.

What do you say to that? My 3 1/2 (almost 4 {big sigh}) year old son who you would hope would just forget about this still continues to remember. They say dreams are a figment of our reality. Our mind suppresses thoughts through out the day only to have them surface at night when we sleep. Sean never talks about his dreams. He always tells us that he just dreams about the moon and the stars. I think he still longs for a sibling - he was just so disappointed - much more so than I thought someone his age could be. If I feel guilty about anything - I feel most guilty about disappointing him.

You've got to believe in the things you want - pretty big words from such a little person.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Cleaning Up

I haven't posted in quite some time. Its not because I've decided to just move on with my life and live like things are wonderful. I truly believe I'm at the point where I can no longer describe or even comprehend what I'm feeling. I think acceptance has lifted a huge burden off my shoulders, but I am left with a lot of different emotions that I can't tie back to any particular one thing - other then Daniel of course. I like to use the analogy of sweeping. When your cleaning up with a broom and a dust pan you typically sweep everything into one big pile - getting it into the dustpan and into the trash is easy. The hard part is when your left with that little line of dust and dirt - the one that just won't make it over the lip of the dustpan - the one that you sit there wondering if you should keep trying or just spread it all around the room so its not so noticeable. I think that's where I'm at with my feelings. There are lots of little pieces of anger and sadness and self-pity scattered all around me and I don't know what to do.

I don't necessarily like the person I have become as a result of losing Daniel. Initially, I saw compassion and strength but all of that has dissolved and I'm sort of left with fear, envy, and much less compassion for those who haven't had to deal with what I have dealt with. I know its not the right thing - in fact its rather childish, but for now it is what it is. It may all have to do with where I am at in life at this time - may be two months from now I will have changed - I hope for that.

One thing I have learned in talking with other mother's who have lost their babies - it never goes away. This heartache may, one day, no longer consume my life, but Daniel will always be my baby - that will never ever change. I'm just wondering when I will be normal again - be happy for people, stop questioning my ability to do anything, and start consistently enjoying life.