Making THAT call...

Ugh. So, I called the funeral home today. David and I decided (or at least I think we decided) to buy an Alpaca Fur Teddy Bear from the local Alpaca farm and place a heart shaped urn inside of it. The bears are made using the fur from stillborn Alpacas. We found out about it last spring and ever since its been a thought for Logan's ashes. So, I went out online to find a heart shaped urn today. Which was full of sunshine and rainbows! ARGH!!! This sucks!! Even 16+ months later!! It makes me feel all jittery and like I'm gonna puke! Anyhow... The website specified that it would hold up to 4 cubic inches of cremains. Sigh. Seriously? So they want me to measure it?? No. That's how I ended up on the phone with the funeral home. I made an appointment for Thursday morning. I'm taking the ashes in for them to look at, and a print out of the urn. They'll be able to know. Plus, they'll put his ashes in the urn for me...for free. Which is nice. He thought they might even have a heart shaped urn. Anyhow. So. Fun stuff. Now I'll try to remain calm until Thursday. As if. David wants to go along with me to pick out the bear. I thought that was nice. I just haven't been sure how much is me pushing him to be a part, and how much he really wants to be a part of. But he did tell me that he wants to go pick out the bear. So, maybe we'll do that Thursday evening. When we recently opened this can of worms back up I had wanted to have this done before Mother's Day. But that's this weekend. And now I'm not so sure how much of that I want to try to cope with ON Mother's Day, since I have a living daughter who I'm supposed to celebrate with and try to put aside the ugliness. Anyhow, his due date, or what should have been his first birthday is May 19th. So, I think I'll have it done before then. One more chapter to close. Hopefully it will give us some added closure or something. I can't believe its take us so long to deal with this. I just couldn't ever bring my self to purposefully tear the scab off. But that's all this process really is anyhow. Picking at scabs. As soon as it starts to heal over, it gets ripped off again!

Flowers for Logan

My husband and I took our daughter to the park this evening to play. This is the same park where we had Logan's tree planted. When we walked over to Logan's tree we were greeted by these:

Someone planted flowers at the base of my sons tree!!

I called everyone I know who knows where Logan's tree is and no one had a clue who did it. The city didn't do it because there are not flowers at the bases of any of the other memorial trees. So we're assuming a stranger honored our son with these flowers.

I can't even explain the overwhelming feelings I have. Some random person planting flowers for my baby. My sweet baby was thought of by someone other than us. Someone went out of their way to plant flowers for my son!! I'm overwhelmed. I'm so grateful. I may have to go put a sign up to thank them!!!

::: ::: :::

I also saw this written inside of a tube slide on the toddler playscape a few minutes later, and it made me smile. I'm starting to get more of a kick about seeing his name like this than I used to. It used to take my breath away, now it makes me chuckle.

Logan's name at the Waterfall

I love it when parents come up with a way to memorialize our children. Seems I can never get enough of it! Waterfall Angels is just that, a beautiful way to remember our babies. Lisa (mommy to Jasper) is writting names on a lovely river rock and then taking them down to Rainbow Springs State Park in Florida and taking pictures. She then lovingly uploads them to her blog for the parents to click on the photo and save a copy to their computers. I just loved the ones she did for my sweet Logan. You can see them here. Thank you Lisa for giving me one more sweet reminder.

Logan's Pictures

The 2 photo's that I had retouched by http://www.babyangelpics.com/ were finished today.  All I can do is stare.  There's my baby.  There's my son the way he was meant to look, and not forced to look like unnaturally due to death and early birth.  Gone are the stupid fake flowers covering up half of his face.  Gone is the reddness, the peeling skin, the shinny spots.  Gone.  And left behind is my perfect angel faced baby boy.  I'm speechless.  I'm awed.  I now have a picture that I can print, scrapbook, show off with out the fear of people freaking out.  Pictures that I can look at and see my son for who he was before he died.  I'm thrilled with the results.  I'm not ready to share the photo's just yet though.  I still feel so violently over protective of his memory, perhaps hoarding what little bit of him belongs to me.  But I wanted to tell you all how pleased I am, and how highly I recommend this free service.  Such a thoughtful and wonderful service to offer parents of stillborn children.  That is there catch though.  I do believe that they require the children to have been stillborn.

Angel Pics

I stubbled across this site today while working on The Dead Baby Club blog.  I was looking for ways to memorialize our children.  Angel Pics is a photo retouching service that allows parents up to two free photo's to be retouched of their stillborn child.  Tears immediately welled up as I realized that my terrible pictures could be fixed.  No stupid fake flowers, no lace, no red skin, no peeling skin...  just a picture of the way he looked, before his birth damaged his fragile skin.  And free!!  Not charging some astronomical amount and taking advantage of the fact that I was in such grief.  And annonymous too.  All done in seconds on my PC.  I uploaded the photo, stated what I wanted changed.  They say its due back to me o nthe 12th.  I'm shaking with anticipation.  Finally, a photo that I won't feel leery about showing people.  Finally my brothers will be able to see what their nephew looked like.  Finally I'll be able to look at my sons face and not be distracted by the phoney weird things they added to the photo.  To look and not see the horror so blatently.  I had to share this.  I am hoping they turn out nicely.  It seems legit.  I'll keep you all posted.

Seeing Logan's Tree for the first time

This odd feeling seems to be the norm lately.  The shadowy, gnawing ache.  Sometimes it comes front and center, but most times these days its been hanging out in the background, vaguely reminding me that I'm hurt.  I'm not fond of it, but it is certainly better than being in the gut wrenching pain all of the time.

After almost exactly 8 months since Logan's death, his tree finally made it into the ground at the park down the street.  We went and visited it yesterday for the first time, on our anniversary.  It just seemed appropriate to me.  The tree wasn't planted exactly where I wanted it (close to the toddler playscape) its off to the right a little, and away from the playscapes.  I think the tree is better off in that location, further away from idiotic teens who are known to linger in the park and make trouble.  The tree looks nice.  I couldn't  help but feel like its presence was insignificant.  A sad replacement.  "I couldn't give you life baby, so here's a tree."  I don't know.  It just seemed...lame.  I have trouble convincing myself that the tree is to let the world know that there was a little boy here, and not a ridiculous replacement of him.  David appreciated the tree.  He felt like I did a good job.  I stood there a minute, alone, and contemplated.  I felt more apologetic than anything I guess.  I just kept thinking I was sorry.  Sorry I couldn't make it work, sorry I couldn't save him, sorry he wouldn't get to experience life, sorry that I planted this dumb tree...just sorry for everything.

I pushed Aubrey on the swings while David took a few minutes to himself at the tree.  It seemed odd.  Aubrey has no clue.  "Hey mom, we're at the park, let's swing!!"  Like I could explain to her why we were really at the park.  The day was riddled with oddities, the visit at the park no exception to that.  A young girl, maybe 8 or so, came riding up on her bike and started asking all sorts of questions about the tree.  Did you plant that tree?  Why?  Why would you plant a tree when you son dies?  How old was he?  So you only knew him for a few days?  Oh.  You didn't even get to hold him? (I left out that detail)  What was wrong with him?  What's that?  Are you sad?  Well at least you have her.  You can have another one.  Where is he?  (Ok, this info was a bit much for her perhaps but I didn't know what else to say, I was in shock).  She wouldn't go away.  Here we are trying to find peace, trying to not attack the tree in our fury, trying not to have a mental breakdown in the middle of a park and this little girl wouldn't go away!!  We eventually left because she was so annoying.  The night went on to give more and more odd things to me.

But, the tree is in and that makes me relieved, if nothing else.  Relieved its over with, the waiting anyway.  Now for the ashes...

Our Anniversary and Logan's Tree

Today is our 7th wedding anniversary.

I don't feel like celebrating.  I guess its a nice day and all, and it really isn't a reflection on my marriage or how I feel about David.  Its just that I can not find any joy in celebrating anything.

The only plans we really have made for this evening is to walk down to the park and see if the city planted Logan's Memorial Tree.  I talked to the dude last week and he told me Friday or sometime this week.  We're assuming it's there.  If its not it would really be par for the course, I suppose.  Maybe even a little expected.  But regardless we're going to go see our son's tree, the closest thing we have to a grave marker.

Today hasn't been a bad day per say.  More of a bleak day.  A blah day.  I'm tired and a little worn out from the late nights with my mother's visit over the weekend.  And I look around me and see all that I should get done today.  I just don't have the will.  David will be home in a couple of hours, so I need to at least go shower and look presentable for our special day.  I also need to wash laundry and pay the bills, because hey...life still goes on.

On a side note, anyone know what happened to the spell checker with this new post editor?  I don't see it.  That is a necessity for me!  LOL!

Alone...listless

I keep hearing that song over and over. Pearl Jam. Daughter.

Alone...listless...breakfast table in an otherwise empty room
Young girl...violins...center of her own attention
The mother reads aloud, child tries to understand it
Tries to make her proud

The shades go down, its in her head
Painted room...can't deny there's something wrong...

Its odd, even to me, how I place myself in the most obscure places. This song doesn't have a thing to do with my "situation". Maybe its the odd pain I feel from the song. Maybe it's Eddie's voice. I dunno.

David is up north. He left today. My mother is coming in tomorrow. I just wanted a normal weekend. I don't want visitors. I don't want to entertain, to clean, to talk, to relate, to defend, to perform, to hide... I want to just be here with my tiny little family safe in the cocoon of my deceptively "normal" home. I go out, I perform, I interact with the "others" because I know its what's supposed to be done. What's normal in the real world. I do what I am supposed to do, in hopes of moving on, getting over...forgetting. Whoever wrote those rules don't have a clue. Sadly, I think it was me. Is isolation a stage of grief? First we feel isolated by our "freskishness" and then we resort to isolating ourselves, because really who understands you better than the evil voices in your head? I'm quite content to hang out alone these days. I used to be very social. But now, now I just want to hide away (Hey look at that! Another PJ song!!). Sadly I don't want my mother to visit. Its not her, its not personal. And I want her to see her granddaughter, I do. Its just that... I don't have the energy. That seems to be the common theme these days. I don't have the energy for much of anything. Energy, motivation, desire...whatever. They say its part of depression. Why is there no cure for depression? Something so prevalent in our society and the only thing they have a drugs that mask it, but none that eliminate it. The mind is a tricky place I suppose. And I fight with myself daily, wanting the drugs, not wanting the drugs. Wanting relief, but what if?? What if David announces that he's ready for another baby and then I have to wait another 6 months to rid my body of the poisons that are masking the pain? What if I could find relief in those pills? What if he never wants to have another baby because I won't "snap out of it"? Then there are always the thoughts about the head shrinker. I guess I'm just afraid I'll hear more of the same "these things happen" or "your grieving, you should be depressed". Maybe I'm afraid he'll tell me to buck up and stop wallowing in self pity. Maybe I'm afraid he'll make me cry. I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of such an overwhelming sorrow. I'm not sure I want to pay someone to tell me I'm normal and then make me cry. I can get that for free anywhere I like. My thoughts follow me around closer than my shadow. I try to convince myself that its best if I stay away from the sadness of others, if I stay away from my own sadness. But I guess the reality of it all is that I'm just avoiding the truth that has so confidently perched itself upon my heart. I'm sad. I'm so achingly sad that if the world stopped spinning, I might not notice. I swear it, if my daughter wasn't here I would easily allow myself to slip under. And what an enormous burden to place on the tiny shoulders of a 19 month old child. She wasn't intended to be a buoy, but how she has turned into one. Keeping momma afloat. It breaks my heart all over again. I look at her and I think how lucky she is to not be old enough to even realize there is something to be grieving for. And then I look at her and am saddened to know that her baby brother died, and she doesn't even know it yet. Will she ever know it? Will I lock him away like a dirty little precious secret? Everything in this "reality" contradicts itself. Oh how I want her to know that we did want her to have a little brother, a playmate, a partner in crime. Someone she could go to and complain about her parents to, like a sibling can only relate. Baby, Momma tried!! I desperately want her to know. But when she is old enough to process this information, will I still be willing to relive it, to pass the sadness on?

I've been hiding a lot, if only mentally. I've been hanging out in Forks, Wa. with Bella and Edward (Twilight) on audiobook. I walk around with my earbuds in listening to my iPod all day long, trying to escape my own life. Trying to be immersed in someone else's elation and tragedy, if only fiction. I've discovered that I can't sit around and watch TV or movies all day, so this is my alternative. I began to wonder today how rude it would be to walk around listening while my mother was here this weekend.

My mother. She has no clue. How can she? She had 5 children, they were all surprises and they all lived. I don't think she even knows how to handle me. I think my darkness frightens her. God is the solution to everything. Take your pain to God. Give it to the lord. I scoff. He gave it to me, why would I give it back? God is not my solution. At least not right now. And I think that scares my family. I am hostile, and I am bitter, and I do not want to hear about God and how they think he is the answer to my sorrow. He is the reason, at least in my book. At least for now. So, most of the time they go on as if my life didn't stop. Which is good, for the most part. At least until they start really wanting to know how I'm really doing. I try not to hide too much of it. If I have a total breakdown I want them to not be completely shocked, I think. The other day my older brother asked me how I'm doing, to which I replied "some days are bad, some days are not so bad" to which he replied "Why? What's wrong?" I simply stated "Logan". He went on to say he figured but wanted to make sure it wasn't anything else. I really have to restrain myself from saying DUH!! and smacking people in the forehead (like the V-8 commercials). I hate that people ask me how I am doing because really we all know that most of the time it's in a cashier-esque fashion. No one wants to hear the truth, they want to hear you say "fine" and move on. "I'm fine, unless you consider the GAPING HOLE in my heart where my little boy hangs out". I mean really, how do you answer that question? "Hey Heather, how's it going?" "Oh fine, I didn't cry or kill myself today, so I must be having a great day!" People don't want to hear that. I don't want to hear that. What the hell do you say to that? "Oh, well that's good?!" Seriously. I struggle intensely with the random social politeness I'm supposed to display.

I've gotten really paranoid lately. Its weird. It makes me feel weird. I feel like they're all looking at me, talking about me. I wonder if people can tell. The other day when I left the OB's office and those two pregnant chics were in the waiting area, I couldn't look at them, but I felt like they were staring at me, like they knew! I wonder if people think about it all the time (I'm guessing this is just a narcissistic feeling). I wonder if people try to think about what it would feel like if one of their babies had died in the womb; what they're lives would be like with out that child.

David is up north hunting with his dad and some friends. I'm glad. He so needs to get out of this house and away from me. It was hard letting him leave. I really had to struggle to keep myself from begging him not to leave me. Don't leave me alone in the silence with these wretched thoughts!! But I wanted him to go. I want him to feel "normal" again and be with other men, and not surrounded by child bearing woman (at work). My daughter wailed when he left. I thought it was a good idea for her to see that he was leaving. When he walked away and got into the truck she bawled. My heart broke. His heart broke. And I realised that I couldn't explain to her that he was coming back. And I realised maybe we should have just let her think he was at work. And I was afraid that her outburst tainted his weekend. Gramma will be here tomorrow, she won't have time to think about her daddy.

I sit here on my couch and obsess about whether or not Logan's tree went into the ground tonight. David and I decided to wait to go see it until we could both go at the same time, together, as a family. Its made me very restless today. I even found myself drawn to that area during my walk this morning. Not to see the tree, but in hopes that I would see a truck or something. Some sign that they were indeed planting it. I saw nothing. I'm hoping I don't accidentally drive by it this weekend. I'm hoping that I keep my wits about me enough to avoid that area. Its on a common route home. I pass that park quite often.

Well, its almost midnight. I'm tired, I'm roasting for some stupid unknown reason (since apparently my hormones are FINE!), and I know I need to get up early to straighten the house before my mother arrives in the morning. So, with that... I'm off, and hoping for a restful night and easy sleep...in a very dark and quite house...alone. (She shivers because yes, she is afraid of the dark and things that go bump in the night!)

Memorials

Yesterday U of M held a memorial service for the babies who get donated for study. Logan was included in that. I didn't go. Part of me thinks I should have, but the biggest part of me is tired of trudging through these swamp like waters of baby loss. I'm tired of being reminded and I'm tired of dealing with it. I feel like the more time I spend in dead baby land, the more sucked under I get. The more depressed, the more lonely, the sadder I become. So, lately I've tried to steer clear of anything that might pull me back down. I don't know if that's healthy or not. Frankly I don't care. I just need a break from the glum. I need a break and fresh air.

I talked to the Forestry Supervisor (which is a funny title since I live in the suburbs and not Montana or something) yesterday and he told me they will be planting Logan's tree on Friday, or sometime next week (weather permitting). David and I have agreed not to drive by and look with out the other. I'm anxious and it will be very hard for me not to be obsessive and go look every ten minutes. My mom is coming this weekend and David will be up north, so we're going to wait until next week to go look at it, together. I'm happy, nervous and sad all at the same time. I'm happy it's finally getting done, 4 months after the initial start of the plan. I'm nervous about how it will affect each of us to have to see this tree all of the time. I am planting it at the park where I would have taken Logan to play...the same park I take my daughter to play at now. The same park that my husband drives past everyday to and from work. I didn't really think that through before I decided to plant it there. I just assumed I would want it there, I assumed David would want it there, but I think it will be very hard for him to drive by and see that reminder everyday...at least for a while. I wanted it to be on public land so that if we ever moved we could still see his tree, visit his tree. Its the closest thing we have to a grave marker at the moment. But I never thought about what it would be like to see his grave marker every day. I just wanted the world to see it. I want the world to know that there was a little boy, and he made a huge impact on our lives. A weeping willow in the park seemed the perfect way to do that. But again, it makes me sad. Sad that I am planting a stupid tree for my son instead of taking him to the park to play.

Last night was a tearful night here. I feel so helpless and useless when I see my husband grieve. I just assume that's how it must be for everyone else. What can you do? Nothing. So I sit there and try not to cry too. Tears are contagious for me. Lately I keep thinking about how I never saw it coming. This wasn't ever anything I ever thought possible for my future. I mean who does? But I often sit around and think how I live in the house that 14 years ago my husband and I (who had only been dating for a month) took our 2 younger siblings trick or treating at, and never once did we ever think we'd live in that house a few years later. Or how 14 years ago I tried to imagine what life would be like married with children. I assumed I'd have 3, and well before I was 32 years old. But I do not. I have 1. And never in a million years did I ever imagine myself to have a child die. And now it makes it very hard for me to look forward and not see calamity. Because I experienced a very horrible unexpected reality, I can not even venture out to see my future. Maybe its because its too painful. I'm scared to think of myself with three children now. I'm scared to hope for more. Because now, no matter what, I'll always be plagued with the "what if" scenario. We talked about DS when we decided to have kids. We talked about Spina Biffada too, since that is a very real threat in my family. But honestly I guess I never thought it would really happen to us. That's scary stuff that happens to other people, not us. Our baby wouldn't die. God isn't that cruel. But now that I know the reality, now that I know that no matter how great the odds are in our favor...it's always possible. And that is the scariest reality.

I've also been thinking a lot about why David's son died. I mean, my life is filled with unpleasant things. My parents divorced when I was a baby. My dad is a jerk. My brothers have all had there fair share of devestation. My grandparents and mother too. So to be honest I can see how and why having my child die would fit into the equation...but not David's. David has always been such a good person. His family is well built and functions well. David has always strived for the best, done his best and is an honest good man. I can find no reason what so ever for his baby to have died. You can look at my life and see how it could have happened, but not David's. Which leaves me with the blame. If he'd have married better. If he'd have dated around and found a different option than me. If I had been content with an only child as he was. If I had really thought it through and agreed with him that we were pushing our luck with having another baby at our age. His son is dead because I am never content. Perhaps that's the "lesson" or "reason" every one keeps telling me God has. Maybe it's that I was never content with what I had, and now I will never know real contentness, because something will always be missing.

I've been thinking about my son's ashes a lot lately. We need to get the urn. Need to. We've been avoiding that for too long. We need to put the proverbial lid on it. The thing is, what if I like the one I get, but then change my mind later? And I don't know that I can pour my son's burnt up tiny remains into a new container. I mean, there must be dust left behind in the bag or bowel that he is in. I can't just toss that into the trash, that's my son!! I thought I would take it to the funeral home here and let them do it, that way I won't ever really know what happened. I'm not stupid. I know that when they put his ashes in the container they didn't get every last speck out of the furnace or whatever. But I didn't have to be there, and I didn't have to see it. I can't just throw his dust into the trash can like it's garbage. And the other thing, I don't know where I want to put the urn. I'm thinking of getting an urn that looks like a statue. That way I don't have to answer questions or make people feel weird if they see it. They won't even know. Having someone cremated in my family just isn't accepted. I didn't want Logan cremated, it was the only option I had if I wanted U of M to do the autopsy, and at the time that seemed the most important thing. And I'm not sure I want it stuffed into my closet. Even now I can not bare the thought of putting his ashes into my chest or my closet. That is why they continue to sit in that wretched box on top of my armour. He needs a place in this home. A place that is all his. Not a shrine or anything, just a spot for Logan to be. I've contemplated a place at a cemetery, or burying him with my grandmother or David's...but at the moment I don't want him anywhere but with me. And frankly I'd carry him in my pocket if I didn't think David would commit me. I've thought about dividing his ashes up, but the thought of having a vial that contains maybe a piece of his toe and a piece of his ear...its just wrong. I can't do it. And I know that its because this is not a natural process in life that it is so hard to rectify it. You can not come to terms with something that is so beyond reason. I just wish I could stop trying so hard to come to terms with it.

Logan's Bracelet

I posted the bracelet I made to honor Logan on my other blog. You can see it here.

Drama at the park!

Sorry. Some of you read faster than I can edit my post. This is MY MUFFIN and my idiot dog. I was taking a picture, we were the only ones there and I wasn't really that far away. having said that...here's the story behind this picture!

This is the park I picked out to have my son's memorial tree planted. It's a park right down the street from our home. The park I would have taken my son to play, just like I take my daughter to play there. I met with the guy from my city's DPW, they'll be planting the tree for us. I went last week and picked out a real nice Weeping Willow. I've decided to have it planted just beyond the swing set here in the photo. There will also be a plaque. He said it will be about 3 weeks before he can get it planted. I was hoping for next week (my Due date) but it took me too long to go pick out the tree. It doesn't really matter when it gets planted. We're not going to have a service or anything, we're not going to be there when it's planted. We're just going to go on our own, just the three of us, and see it once it's planted. We had to come up with what we wanted on the plaque last night so that it would be ready for today. I had a really hard time with this. Everything just seemed so trite. I didn't want some hokey poem or saying. I didn't want the stupidly obvious either (remembered always...duh!). In the end we decided on his name, the date he was still born and this "Wanted. Loved. Missed" and then on the bottom the verse from 2 Samuel 12:23 "He shall not return to me, but I shall go to him." That was my husbands idea, and I think it fit. I think those two phrase embody everything I feel about this. He is wanted, desperately. I'd have traded most anything to have him. He is loved and he is terribly missed. And no, he's not coming back...but hopefully...maybe...I'll go to him. I didn't have a melt down while at the park. I thought I would. I planned on it. But, graciously enough I did not. I already had the spot picked out. I had the plaque request typed up. I'd exercised on my way to try to burn off some of the stress of the situation. The tree was already picked out and paid for. I just had to point. It wasn't so bad. It wasn't so hard. And then, just because the universe has a sick sense of humor, my morning went south very quickly (click on story link at the top to read about that)! Anyhow, I've had a lot on my mind lately. Future babies, friends babies, baby showers, maternity clothes, memorial trees, due dates... it's all wreaking havoc on my mental state these days. I still cry, now and then, but not the whaling, gut busting, heart wrenching sobs I used to cry. Mostly I just think about all of this with a numb sadness that aches, and never completely goes away. And then I get pissed.

The Tree

I bought Logan's tree today.

A Weeping Willow.

Sigh.

I didn't see "this" coming. This ghastly feeling. I was trying to be all business like about it, but before I left the house I was compelled to write in Logan's journal. Very compelled. All I could think of was that I couldn't give my son life...so I gave him a freakin' tree! A TREE!! And the tree that I picked out seems like a cliche...weeping... It has no idea. I get there, and the guy that the city recommended for me to see was someone I knew back in the day. We worked together when I was barely 18, for a short summer. The name rang a bell on the phone, but it was a common name...I knew him the moment I walked through the doors, he recognized me too (so there was no hiding). It threw me off my game. As I explained to him why I was there (they don't sell to the public) I couldn't look him in the eye. It bugged me that I couldn't. Every time I said "memorial tree" or "my son" I looked away. I hate that I couldn't look someone in the eye when I was talking about my son. But it was even harder to look someone in the eye who knew me when I was lighter, bubblier, unscathed. He was great about it, did and said all of the appropriate things...it was just weird. I felt like I was dealing with enough, but then for it to be with someone I once knew... It was off. The nice thing was that I trusted his word and judgment on the tree. I couldn't look at the tree's. I kept staring at the root balls, and at the trunks...but I couldn't look up at the "weeping" part of the tree. It took me two weeks to even go pick out the tree... Like I was dreading it. Admitting, again, that my son died.

I feel like being stupid today. Reckless. Good thing I don't know where to go to base jump or parachute or something. I'd love to outrun this sadness. The DH is out with friends after work. Man I wish I was there getting plastered out of my mind! Well, not there...not with people we know. Guess I'll go mow the freakin' yard instead, because after all...life goes on, right?

Twilight, 3 Months, McCracken and other stuff

I'm alone today. This should be a good thing. Thursday snuck up on me with out too much noise. The muffin is with grandma, per the usual routine on Thursdays. I'm glad for the "freedom" to do some cleaning and what not, but I'm not really in the mood. That's the thing. Lately I haven't been in the mood to do much of anything...except read the Twilight series. I've become obsessed with it. Maybe this is my new project now that I'm done with the laundry room and you can only blog about so much, and frankly my diet just sucks and depresses me more everyday. I'm holding onto the knowledge that it seems that the 3 month mark is tough on everyone. Even my husband is bluer than usual. That's heartbreaking for me too. I had hoped he would be able to move on easier than I. I had hoped that his ache wasn't as severe as mine. I had hoped. Seems like it was in vain though. Men ache and love and miss in the same magnitude as we do I suppose. Much to my dismay. It seems unfair that both of us should feel such loss, like one of us isn't bad enough. David does all he can, it seems, to give me joy. To keep me from tipping over the edge. I won't lie, that edge seems mighty inviting, especially as of late. Anyhow, so the Twilight books have given me something to obsesse over, to keep my mind very occupied. I love them, and I love immersing myself in such make believe that it leaves little room for my reality. David's been kind to me. Letting me read and neglect him and the house and my other responsibilites to escape this reality. But, I'm on the waiting list at teh library for the third book. A few minutes ago a freind of mine sent me a link to an online version of the 5th book (Twilight written from Edwards perspective) and it's taking every ounce of strength not to sit down and read all 257 pages this afternoon, instead of cleaning. BUT, I owe David. So, I will clean today. Much to my dismay. My mother is coming on Saturday, so it's probably for the best anyhow.

About Twilight. If you are a huge fan, and are in the process of reading or haven't read the series yet, you may want to skip this paragraph unless you want a warning about a dead baby. But, I thought I would give a little warning to something that was not in the movie, but is in the book. Esme, tell's Bella about her baby dying a few days after birth. Esme flung herself off of a cliff (odd, I could relate!). That's the story behind how she became a Vampire. The paragraph isn't real detailed, but there is most certainly a dead baby and I wasn't warned, so it struck me. So, I didn't want anyone else to have to have that. Also, my girlfriend told me last night that in the 4th book Bella get's pregnant and they think it's a vamp baby. She says is pretty disturbing, and she doesnt' think I should read it. I'm going to anyway. I feel like if I am warned I can handle it, it's the surprises I don't like. So, thought she wrecked what seems like it would be a pretty major point in the book (and now I have too, sorry)...I am glad to be prepared for a pregnancy...and whatever else horrid thing may happen. BUT, aside from all of this, I LOVE the series (but, I dig fantasy books) and I think it tops my list of all time favorites.

I finished reading Elizabeth McCracken's book An Exact Figment of My Imagination. I don't really have an opinion of it. It isn't a self help book. It isn't a comfort book. The book isn't written to comfort anyone. It is simply her story. Kind of like a blog in a book. It's her timeline of how her baby died, what she said, did and felt. That's it. I enjoyed reading it. I related to a lot of it. Anyhow, I thought I'd pass the book along. So, the first person to comment and say they want it, I'll send it to them.

It's been three months. I am having a hard time grasping at that. THREE MONTHS! It doesn't seem possible. It makes me want to vomit when I think about it. I'm tired of that feeling. I can't put my thoughts into words. Most days I feel black. Most days I feel bruised and beaten. Most days I just want to forget these past 9 months. I'm starting to feel it now, that people think I'm over it...or that I should be. I know that I shouldn't be, so I don't really care about the others...but I'm starting to feel it. The city is allowing me to plant a tree in Logan's honor at the park I would have taken him to play in. I've decided on a Weeping Willow, I think. They'll plant it and install a plaque for me. I'm surprised at their eagerness. I didn't tell them my story. Just that it was for my son. I want a Weeping Willow because it seems appropriate. I want a large tree that would signify his presence in my life, and a playful one that would sway in the breeze to signify my child. There's something about Weeping Willows, they seem sad, dominant, whispy, strong...they seem like they should be from a little boy who missed out on life. The city said they can plant it the week of my due date (May 19th). We're not having a service or anything. Just the three of us, going to honor our little boy. Everyone else can visit on their own. But I am delighted that I can have exactly what I wanted, where I wanted it and that for a life to come (provided it doesn't die or get cut down) I will be able to drive by and see that enormous tree, and knwo that THAT tree is my sons tree. No one else's.

I had a whole lot more written, but my blogger died...so, I'm not retyping it. I don't have the energy.

Logan's Afghan

On Easter I was finally presentable enough to have my photo taken, even though I still managed to have my hair in a pony tail. Here is a picture of me with the afghan that Chandos over at The T21 Traveling Afghan Project made for me in memory of Logan. The Afghan is just perfect, and even smells good. I know, that's weird that I noticed it, but I did. I love the afghan. At the moment I have it placed with all of the other "memories" of Logan. Thank you again for this precious gift to our family.

A little light in the darkness

A woman named Jen found Logan's blog yesterday (the post about his remains) while searching for info on stillborn autopsy's at U Of M. Sadly her son Will was stillborn this past Tuesday. Jen was kind enough to leave this comment:

"Our son, Will, was born still yesterday at 22 weeks. We also opted to have the autopsy at U of M. I linked to your site from a google search because I couldn't remember the doctor's name and I wanted to look him up. In any case, you should absolutely talk to someone there because we chose to have his ashes returned, which WAS an option--but it could take more than a year. I'm not sure how far along you were or where you live, (We live in the Detroit area) so maybe that is the difference. My OB thought that remains were not returned and was surprised by the form so maybe things have changed in the few months between our sad days. Given the delay though, perhaps you could find someone there that can help you. I'm not sure if I can help but if you think I could, email me. Good luck! Jen "

I can not begin to describe the emotions I have gone through the last 2 days. As I've stated in previous posts, I've had a hard time with not getting back Logan's remains...not knowing where he is. I know in my head HE is not anywhere here on earth. But I feel this strong instinct to protect him, even his empty shell. It's a weird feeling. So, when the above info came to me, I was beside myself. Jen later sent me some contact info for this Dr. Who, also is doing Logan's autopsy. I contacted them. Yes. They have changed their policies. Yes. We are able to get Logan's remains back. I cried and cried and cried. I can bring my son home. He can be here with me, at home...not some cold lab. Not some cold crypt. Here, in my warm house. Do you see what I mean? Logan is dead. He doesn't feel the cold, or the warmth. He doesn't know he's in a lab or here at home. He's NOT HERE! My brain knows this. My heart won't accept this. We have some time still to decide what we are going to do. It can take up to 6 months for them to finish the Autopsy. And THEN they'll contact us about the remains. Spending thousands on a crypt of our own seems foolish (that money could go to my living daughter). My husband has always reassured me that Logan being with other babies who have died seemed right. It seemed to fit. Having him buried off alone, where the world will forget him, seems cold. I've never been one to want any ones ashes in my home, but now that it's my son...I think I might. There's a lady who makes Teddy Bears to hold the urn...I might like that. I saw that on someone else's blog (a link) and I can't remember who anymore. The urn was sewn into the bears back (not holding it). Anyone know? Anyhow, I'm not sure how I feel about it all just yet. I'm not sure what I'm going to do just yet. I don't want to bum out David, and I don't want to bum out the muffin when she's older. I don't want to not be able to let Logan go because I am attached to his ashes. I don't want to be weighed down later in life, not feeling the freedom to bury him and move on. What if I lost them? What if we had a fire? What if the bear was damaged... What ifs. More and more what ifs. But right now, right now I am delighted with the option. I like having the option.

I am so greatful that Jen took time out of her own grief, the day after her own son was born dead, to help me out. It takes an extraordinary human being to come out of their own darkness to give hope and comfort to someone else. I am forever indebted to her. She gave me a little light in the drakness, and right now, it's the greatest gift I have received in the past two and a half months! Thank you so much Jen, from the deepest deep of my broekn heart.

Logan's Name in the Sand

Carly wrote Logan's name in the sand this past week. It's beautiful!

An Afghan for Logan

I was recently contacted by a woman who found my blog through Facebook. She is the president for the International Mosaic Down Syndrome Association. She wrote this:

"In my role as president, I know many people throughout the world who do special things for parents of children with Down syndrome. One parent makes a very special afghan that travels throughout the world to go to families of children with Down syndrome. I told her about your blog and she would like to make you a special afghan for you to keep in honor of Logan."

The woman who made the afghan special for Logan, runs something called The T21 Traveling Afghan Project where they send around a special afghan to children with DS to enjoy for a while before it moves on to someone else. She has a blog that tracks that afghan. She posted about Logan and the very special afghan she made for us. You can read about it and see the afghan here. The afghan should arrive here any day. We are very excited.

I am increasingly amazed on a daily basis the comfort I receive from complete strangers. People who don't know me from Adam (or Eve) write the most profound and heart warming things to me. Words that do help, and do make a difference in some odd way. Complete strangers tap into my darkness better than people who know me in real life. It amazes me. It brings me great comfort. Who could have imagined that something so small (in the grand scheme of things) like an afghan, could bring me such happiness, such comfort. Aside from an early Christmas present from my MIL, this afghan is the first thing meant for Logan that I have received from anyone. Validation that he was real. Validation that my son existed. Validation that I miss him and need him and something to grasp. Something real. It's like Barbs's Tiny Tags, or Carly's Names in the Sand. We all want something tangible, something physical that says "This was for my child! This makes them real!" I am overwhelmed by this seemingly small gesture. I will cherish this afghan with all of my heart, and for all of my days. People will know, that afghan was for my son Logan. Thank you. Thank all of you strangers that have kept me from going under. You've all meant and done more for me than you can possibly imagine.

What are your plans for Logan's remains?

Ter asked me this question, so I thought I would publicly answer it.

My husband and I thought it was very important to have an autopsy on Logan since there was no warning that there was a problem until he was already dead. We were advised by the Diagnostician to have Logan sent to University of Michigan to have a complete autopsy done sine the one the hospital does is on the brain, and not the whole body. But, to do this we had to just accept the terms laid down by UofM. If we wanted UofM to do the autopsy we would not get his body back. He would be cremated in a mass cremation with other babies, and his ashes would be placed in a vault with other babies in a plot that UofM had commissioned at a memorial garden nearby. At the time nothing else mattered but to know why he died. We needed to know if it was something that could or would show up in my daughter. If it was likely to happen to the next baby. If it was genetic, hereditary, cultural. We both were desperate for answers. Though I am horribly bothered by the fact that my son will be cremated (the whole burning thing wrecks havoc on my mind) and I am bothered that I don't have control over where he is or will be. I try to find peace in knowing that he is with other babies in the same situation. I have to be honest in admitting that it does bother me. But I really felt like we needed to know, and never in my wildest dreams did I think it would be something as "simple" as Down Syndrome (which was discovered through the amnio the day I gave birth). Though, we were told that Logan did not die from DS itself but rather a complication due to DS, and most likely a heart condition. We do still want to know every possible fact. I don't regret my decision. I just wish I could have had it both ways, the autopsy and his body. I would have liked to have chosen his resting place. We were told that it would be several months before the autopsy results would be ready, so I assume he is still at UofM (2 months later). Either way though, Logan would have been cremated if he would have had an autopsy. And we needed an autopsy. But, the hospital would have at least given his body back...though with out as thorough of an autopsy. We will be attending a memorial service put on by UofM later this year.

Logan's Tiny Tag

burble: I made a new one!

Barb was sweet enough to display Logan's Tiny Tag for the whole world to see. I just love seeing his name.

Sparrow Farm Creations

My cousin is a word artist. She takes pictures of flowers from her garden and she turns them into word art. She made me a print for Logan (shown above). If you would like one for your own, she custom makes these. You can choose a different verse, poem, or quote if you'd like. You can also ask for certain colors. You can click on the print above to be taken to the Memorial page on her site. All of the details are on her website: www.sparrowfarm.com There are prints for all occasions. You also made me a print for my daughter Aubrey when she ws born. It hangs on her wall. If you choose to order, tell her you came by way of Logan.