"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.

Past the final milestone, and closing a chapter

Seems like I have so much to always say on here, but lately I just don't "feel it". Almost like I'm moving past this part in my life where I need to dwell and talk it out. These past few months I feel mostly like...I dunno. Like it happened, it sucked, I can't change it, it still makes me sad...but...there is a whole other side to life. Things that make me happy. Things that make me smile. Things that aren't necessarily more important, but more...I dunno, current? I'm worrying about selling my house, about getting my dog a new home, about my daughter growing up extremely fast. More important? I don't know, but certainly more urgent for my attention.

The other day, a man that works very closely with my husband, his wife went into labor at 24 weeks. Their baby was born alive, and then tragically died 20 hours later. David thought this was "worse" than what we went through. I get what he meant, not that any loss is better or worse than the other, but that their situation seemed like one giant tease after another. She'd been having trouble for some time, her water broke weeks ago. But every time something happened, it seemed like there was hope. Its sad. Its sad because babies dying are sad, but its sad because I know where that woman and her family are right now. Its sad because the pain is so horrific, and nothing, absolutely nothing, makes it better. I am sad for them. I am sad for the journey they are starting down. I'm sad that nothing can stop it, and no one can help. I'm sad that they will have this life long hurt, this gapping hole in their lives where their son should have been.

I finally got Logan's ashes squared away. He is in a teal heart shaped pewter urn, sewn into an Alpaca Fur Teddy Bear (made from stillborn Alpacas), sitting in a plastic case, in what would have been his bedroom. I'm not crazy about him being in a room other than mine, but it was at the request of David, and I feel like the man should get some say so in all of this. Anyhow, the whole process sucked. The funeral home on the corner near our home transferred his ashes and supplied the urn. I had to go in and pick it out, there aren't words for that horror. Then a friend of ours added a zipper to the bear so we could put the urn inside. We had that done right around what should have been his first birthday. I'm relieved to have that chapter of this journey closed finally.

The final milestone. Logan's "birthday" came and went. We didn't celebrate. Its hard to celebrate a day that never happened, to try and guess that he would have been born at a specific time. I don't remember the day being much of anything. It was the day after my FIL's 60th birthday, and celebrating that day was tough. Knowing that we would have been celebrating both of their birthdays together. Knowing what a first birthday is like. That was tough. But it wasn't this monster gut wrenching day that I thought was headed my way. It was more or less just like any other day, just one in which I thought of Logan far more often.

So, here we are getting ready to hit the 18 month mark at the end of this month. It seems impossible that its gone so fast, especially the last 6 months. It seems so unrealistic, this life I am living that does not include my son. That I ever had a son, if even only for a wisp of a second. When I let myself think about it, think about him, it still makes me sick to my stomach, insanely sad, and confused on a level I can't even begin to comprehend, much less put into words. So I guess for self preservation purposes, I try not to think about what happened to my family. I try to dwell on the now, and the future. I hope for more children. I hope for a day where I can write in this blog and not cry. I hope for a look of peace on my husbands face. I hope for a time when this pain is gone, and not something that I have to daily push aside and try to ignore. I hope for contentment with the living child that I have, and not to forever feel robbed. I hope that my house sells, my dog finds a new home and that we may have a fresh start as a family and move forward carrying our precious son in our hearts, but leaving the horrible memories of his death behind us. That's where I am mostly these days, focused on being hopeful and having faith in a happy life I know I am destined to have.

But I still cry, and I still miss my son in every breath I take.

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Songs for Logan

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