"You get what you pay for, but I just had no intention of living this way." -Counting Crows

Why We're Here...

My husband David and I delivered a stillborn Baby Boy that we loved, and wanted. Our first and only son, Logan, had Down Syndrome. Our daughter's smile is a little light in the darkness. She turned one year old three days after our sweet Logan tip-toed away on January 24, 2009. After 2 1/2 years we found out we were having another baby, whom we affectionatly called Rudy. Just shy of 6 weeks we found out Rudy was Ectopic. Rudy was surgically removed on May 26, 2011 delivering another blow to our already broken hearts.

Trying to move on...

Sunday, February 08, 2009

Two days down, no tears. That’s got to be something.

Today I took down all of the sympathy cards and through out all of the dead and dying flowers that everyone was so kind to send. It’s been two weeks. And though two weeks seems like a flash in the pan, the day we lost Logan seems like a lifetime ago, certainly not two weeks ago. I couldn’t take the dead flowers anymore. I couldn’t take staring at the cards with there sad words. My brain wants to forget we lost a son. My heart won’t. It lingers there, the sadness, the emptiness that I always feel now. Like hunger, or that odd feeling you’ve forgotten something. I can’t explain it, but there is a spot that aches and is empty. I assume its Logan’s spot, the spot that would be filled with the memories of holding his newborn body while I nursed him or the spot that would be filled with the scent of his baby skin and hair. Or, the spot that would be filled with the sound of his crying and his sighs. Whatever it is, I think it’s Logan’s special spot. One I put aside for him six months ago when we found out we were being blessed with a son. But I can’t mix it back in with the rest of me. So, I guess I’ll always have that empty spot where Logan was supposed to have been.

So much for no tears.

I’ve been trying to scrapbook Aubrey’s life as well as what little I have of Logan for a week or so now. But, I sit at my desk and stare. I stare at the scraps left from the last time I was working on a page, things still strewn about my desk. It makes me remember that not that long ago I was sitting here in blissful ignorance, happily plugging away at preserving memories. Ugh, it makes me sick to my stomach. Logan has a scrapbook. David and I bought it for him a few weeks before his birth. When we saw it sitting on the shelf we both wanted that one at the same time. That’s Logan’s scrapbook. It still is. I’ll still fill it with memories of the few short months he lived in my belly, and even some of the memories I have of his birth and death. The sad thing is, I was making the scrapbooks for each child to have as mementoes of their own childhood. And now, Logan’s will stay tucked away in the bookcase next to my personal scrapbook. All I wanted to do was immerse myself in the hobby that I so deeply enjoy, and try to forget my sorrow for a little while, but just sitting at this desk makes me sad.


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