so much to be thankful for

Here I go again. It is one of our milestones, one of the big ones. Thanksgiving brings me such mixed emotions I could sit and stew in my thoughts. I have such happy memories, terrible memories, and a complete lack of memories for certain things. As many dates and days as we have had that are important in our lives. Thanksgiving is a biggie.
I think a few of the things that drive me the craziest are the memories that won't leave. Those moments where you would like to not remember each and every detail, sound, movement as if it were minutes ago instead of years. I still remember holding the ultrasound pictures of Sydney and Connor on Thanksgiving night. My Mother and sister assuring me I was just worrying too much and seeing things that weren't there. I knew. I knew all along. I saw the difference in their pictures. I worried for myself for the same reason I never worried for my sister. Because I knew. I remember running to the bathroom crying unable to contain my fear. I remember the phone call the next day from the doctor confirming my worst nightmare. I remember throwing myself to the ground and screaming in my front yard as my mom pulled in the driveway. I remember for the only time that I have ever said it, repeating over and over again, "why me, why this baby, what did I do, this is not fair".
Then the memories stop for awhile. I don't remember that Christmas, New Years, Anna's birthday and so many other things following that phone call. How I wish I could hold on to the memories of spending time with Connor. As time goes on I know I am forgetting him and I hate that. I can no longer remember certain parts of that day, yet these Thanksgiving thoughts and the real true "black Friday" won't leave. I guess that is how it works. If we only remembered the good things we may never truly appreciate them.
As I have been "working" my way through this week I have noticed people have been listing what they are Thankful for recently. Each day saying something specific they are thankful for. Each day I am sure there is something a little new that I am thankful for, but to be honest, I have thanked God everyday for all that we have been given. For years before I even realized what I was thanking him for. For prayers that have been answered and prayers that have gone unanswered.
It still amazes me to look at the timeline of events in my life between Thanksgiving 2008 and Thanksgiving 2009. I went from realizing my greatest fear at to realizing one of my greatest joys at the next turn. I often think of how life could have been, would have been, should have been if I had been able to continue delivering healthy babies. T.J. and I talked the other night about it. I asked him if we had ever even had the discussion while dating about how many kids we wanted. I guess we hadn't because he wanted 2 and I wanted 4. I sat there for a second and I realized, we both got what we wanted. We have 2 babies here to care for, to cuddle and to try and corral. We have 2 babies in Heaven. Four kids for me, while at the same time 2 for T.J. . so much to be thankful for......seems He listens even when we aren't asking out loud.

Veteran's Day

It is Veteran's Day. As a child I can't say that I really understood the importance of this day. Now, today I feel like I have been given a wealth of knowledge on the importance of our Veteran's and current soldiers. I have been honored to watch my Dad become active in the Delhi Veterans Association (http://www.delhiveterans.com/). I have been able to hear his stories and pass them on to my children. I have watched him share in the camaraderie that each person in the military has with one another. I remember hearing when I was little how terrible coming home from Vietnam was. No warm reception, no parades, nothing from the people who they were protecting. Protesting and negative attitudes from people who really had no clue. I am so glad that my Dad and his fellow Vietnam Veterans are able to live in a time, now, where they can not only be proud of their accomplishments, but share them and have people say Thank You. My children will always know that their Papa is a Hero. They will know that each Sailor, Soldier, Airman, Coast Guardsman and Marine is a Hero. That they fight for our Freedom and our way of life in America. Most of all they will know that Papa is a proud Veteran of the US Navy and that I am a proud Daughter of a Vietnam Veteran.

Thank You to each and every Man and Woman who have served our country in the past and those who are currently serving.

"The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war". General Douglas MacArthur

Praying For Ali

For the past few months I have been following the story of a girl who many of my friends graduated with. She was diagnosed with a rare and very serious form of cancer. As I followed her sister's blog and read each day on Facebook as people prayed for her, I couldn't help but be touched by her story. Her name was Ali. Last night she lost her battle. I have followed Ali's story and I am, somehow, a complete stranger feeling such grief for her family, for her life. Her sister has helped share her story on her blog and this post is by far the most touching thing I have ever read. It brought more than tears to my eyes, but had me wiping my face to read on. She has been able to tell her sister's story in the raw and letting Ali's personality and love shine through. Since most of my writing has been brought forward regarding grief, I felt it was only right to share this amazing tribute to a beautiful woman who left this Earth way too soon. Please say a prayer for Ali's family tonight and take a moment to read her sister's post.


http://www.loft3pd.com/blog/?p=6999


Sarah

Memory Lane...

Last night I was feeling nostalgic. I bought Anna and Wy Christmas footie p.j.'s today and I thought of the first pair I bought him. They seemed so big at the time, 18 months, now he is barely squeezing into a 4t! This time of year brings such a rush of emotions. Reminiscing about Wyatt becoming a part of our family and thinking about how little he was. Somehow as life goes on it is like you forget the little things about your babies. Each phase in life brings new things, cute and crazy, that seem to replace others in your mind. As I sat and watched videos from the first time he walked in the house I was taken aback by how little not only he was, but Anna. They both sat on my lap to watch the videos, matching jammies on and freshly washed hair made it perfect. Wyatt said look at baby Wyatt there. Toddling unsteadily through the kitchen as Anna grabbed his hand and introduced him. He could barely walk, she could barely talk. Just 18 months and 3 1/2 at the time. I really don't remember all of the things going through my mind then. Excitement, fear of the unknown, love, a little mixture of every feeling possible I guess. I am so glad I have the videos of the first few days. Soon after my video camera broke and there is a 5 month break, since then I have 100's of videos. Documenting both of my babies growing and flourishing. I love the fact that you can see in their eyes from the very first time they meant that they loved each other. Anna never had any of my fears, worry of finalization, being his mom, transitioning, change in general....she just knew he was her brother. He seemed to feel the same way about her too. Tonight they had one of those nights that I cannot claim I had control over. They shared, they laughed, they hugged, snuggled, they were awesome together! Maybe that is what made me so nostalgic, made me feel so lucky. Tomorrow when they are screaming and fighting I will have to remember this feeling again!

Two years ago this week, the 16th to be exact, I sent an email to our adoption worker. I had found this picture online.

According to his Child placement profile he

"enjoys playing outside. He likes playing with balls and trucks, having books read to him and playing with educational toys. "

It also said

"is noted to be a friendly, playful and happy child. He has been described as a soft spoken toddler who shows no response/fear of strangers. reportedly has occassional age-appropriate temper tantrums."

I saved the emails, go figure, and I reread them tonight. The little conversation included ; he is already scheduled for match, but I can try to get you in. There were 40 families that had put in their homestudies. We knew our chances were low, but I had a feeling that he was mine. I knew from the second I found him. I can't remember when match was. It was a morning sometime the following week. Anna and I had gone to Sam's with my sister and the kids to try and not think about it. I got the phone call from our worker as I walked in the door. He is yours. I had to ask again, he is what? He is yours. They chose your family. I hung up the phone and flew into Sam's club past the lady who checks your card and screamed to my sister who had walked in ahead of me....he is ours! The baby is ours! He is ours forever! I ran back to the card lady and I hugged her and a stranger next to her! I called T.J. and my mom and dad and I think it took a minute to sink in. The next week we were able to get the actual copy of his picture. Then in the following weeks we were able to meet him and quickly transition him into our home. It still seems surreal to think about life before Wyatt. He has helped to fill a hole in my heart and has really completed our family. He is silly, smart, caring, chatty, ornery, sweet and so many more things. I am so proud of the person he is becoming and being able to be called his mom. He is a Daddy's boy with a love of football and Brutus and wrestling on the floor. He not only loves, but may be a bit obsessed with Bubba and is his constant companion. He is a wonderful cousin and friend and a great brother. It is such a gift to watch Anna be a big sister and care for her little brother, or bother as it may be. They are at the ages where they play together, whether they are dogs crawling around, playing choo choos or "mom and son". They are siblings, friends and foes at times.
He can turn off my coffee pot, pull the dogs tail, use every naughty word he knows, sit in time out and know he is still loved. He has known from the moment he stepped in this house that it was his home. He can pull your heart strings with a flash of a smile or that look in his eyes. There is no doubt in my mind that God always had this life planned for Wyatt. That Wyatt was always meant to be a part of our family.
As I sit and think about those I know starting the foster care program and hoping to adopt I pray they can all look back in a few years with a similar story of how their family found each other.

The sight of a sock...

Yesterday I asked Wyatt to get himself a pair of socks . He came back, socks in hand and the pair he picked sent my mind spinning. A pair of black and gray socks. A pair of socks that were so similar to a pair I saw almost a year ago. The socks Austin was wearing the day he died. I will never forget that day, the moments before the phone call, the sound of his Aunt's voice, the moments after and the the hours and days that followed. They are somehow permanently ingrained in my mind. Visually at the forefront of my mind at the drop of a hat, or should I say the sight of a sock. I can't tell you how often I see those socks in my head. That was the part of him I stood by, staring in disbelief. Touching his toes, hoping he would jerk to kick me. If I could draw I am quite certain I could do a court room sketch of everything surrounding him. The people, the faces and the utter shock. I can't begin to imagine what his parents go through. As much as I try to be there and to understand a little, I pray I never know what they are feeling. We are at the grief season for Austin's family. These are the days that they spent together. This was his time of year. Playing outside, dressing as a farmer and visiting the farm and the zoo. This time last year was a wonderful time. This year it still seems to leave me asking, is this for real? There is not a moment that passes in my day that I do not think of him, his mom or his dad. Simple things like Wyatt doing something crazy, preschool, fall leaves, a John Deere tractor, a chuggington train, Curious george, a song, a smile, a little boy with big brown eyes and the umpteen little kids who seem to be named Austin! I think of his parents with every turn. Every time I hug my kids, every time I yell. Each night when I fight Anna to go to sleep, I think of Austin doing the same thing to his mom last year and I hold her a little longer. If I could do something to somehow ease their pain I would. I know I can't. Nothing will ease their pain. Time heals is a saying people like to repeat, but in a case like this there will never be enough time. It is so odd to me to think that after grouping Anna and Austin as friends, future husband and wife and always a pair, that Wyatt is now actually closer to Austin's age than Anna. He is forever 4. Life somehow has moved forward, leaving everyone who knew of him or about him changed. If only I could find a way to make this month more bearable for his family. I know what it is like to have that first year of grief. Dreading the anticipation of the days and then the hours where you know exactly what happened the year before and thinking of how you might have done things differently. Knowing you can't change them, but unable to control the thoughts that maybe you could of. I do not know how to make it better. If I could do anything I would! Praying for a little of the Peace that passes understanding is all I can do for now. I am also going to post a poem that I found on another blog. I sent it to Austin's parents and told them I felt as if they had written it.

Normal

Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone

important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.

... Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays
Christmas,New Years, Valentine's Day,and Easter.

Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a
funeral than a wedding or birthday party...yet feeling a stab of pain in your
heart when you smell the flowers and see the casket.

Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and
screaming, because you just don't like to sit through anything.

Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why didn't I's
go through your head constantly.

Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding
your head to make it go away.

Normal is having the TV on the minute I walk into the house to have noise,
because the silence is deafening.

Normal is staring at every child who looks like he is my child's age. And then
thinking of the age he would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then
wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.

Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness
lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.

Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday,
commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful
it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal".

Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your
child's memory and his birthday and survive these days. And trying to find the
balloon or flag that fit's the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really.

Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special my
child loved. Thinking how he would love it, but how he is not here to enjoy it.

Normal is having some people afraid to mention my child.

Normal is making sure that others remember him.

Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but
we continue to grieve our loss forever.

Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets
worse sometimes, not better.

Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss,
unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the
remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare. Losing a parent
is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.

Normal is taking pills, and trying not to cry all day, because I know my mental
health depends on it.

Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.

Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals, bodies being referred to as
cadavers, when you know they were once someone's loved one.

Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone stricken
with grief over the loss of your child.

Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying
together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this
because..." I love God, I know that my child is in heaven, but hearing people
trying to think up excuses as to why healthy children were taken from this earth
is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.

Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did
laundry or if there is any food.

Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have three
children or two, because you will never see this person again and it is not
worth explaining that my child is in heaven. And yet when you say you have two
children to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your
child.

Normal is avoiding McDonald's and Burger King playgrounds because of small,
happy children that break your heart when you see them.

Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking
if there even is a God.

Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.

And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for
you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".†


http://attemptingtolovelife.blogspot.com/2011/09/awareness.html



Please say a little prayer for Austin and his family tonight and give your kids an extra kiss.

same on the inside

Of all of the things that my children have been exposed to. Siblings in Heaven, foster care, adoption and friends and relatives of every race, color, creed and handicap I have never been asked a question. Anna has never once wondered (aloud at least) why she and Wyatt have different skin or hair. She often says how she loves his curly hair, but never questions the difference. She has friends with wheelchairs, tracheotomies, hearing aides, feeding tubes, glasses, vesicostomies and so on! She sees the tubes and the feedings, hears the suction from the trachs and just goes on playing. That is just how they are, no different really. She has cousins from China, Russia and born right here who are all very different! Not once have I ever heard a question about these things, until the other night. We were so happy to have Kimora stay with us this week. Kimora is one of Anna's best friends. Kimora and Anna have something very big in common. The same little boy made them both a big sister. Our Bug is Kimora's little brother. Her mom and dad went on a much needed vacation and they asked if she could stay with us. She was so much fun to have and Anna and Wyatt loved being able to spend every day and night with her. As we were getting ready to go to the mall the other night Anna and Kimora were holding hands, as usual! Anna looked at her hand and Kimora's and asked "Why is the inside of Kimora's hand different?" I found this to be funny and I giggled a bit. I took their hands and I told them. That is the part of your hand that is the same. We then looked at our hands and how the inside was close in color. They were so excited by these things that we decided to do an impromptu photo shoot. we lined up there hands to see how everyone's hands are different on the outside, but the same on the inside. Just like we are.....