Even Mike Tyson "gets it" now!

I'm not a fan, but I saw this on Yahoo.com this evening. Mike Tyson's 4 year old daughter died. She was strangled by the treadmill cord at home, on accident. It's sickening. Children should not die!

Logan just sits there

Logan just sits there in his stupid tupperware bowl, in that stupid box. Sitting, nonchalantly, on the top of my armoire. Like one more piece of clutter. One more "thing" I don't know what to do with, or where to put. He just sits there. It makes me sad. I was in such a hurry to get him here with me. I fight the weird "crazy lady" urges to take the box down and caress it, or carry it around with me. I fight the weird "crazy lady" urges to put my hand in the bowl so that I can touch my son once again. And I feel weird just letting him sit there, like a discarded item, like the box is forgotten. It's not. I see it several times a day. Sometimes I go look at it on purpose. But I don't touch it. I don't take it down. I don't trust myself. I don't want to be a crazy lady. I think holding him, burnt to nothing but dust, would be too much for my feeble mind to handle. I think it would literally make me insane. I think it would push me over the edge of reason. I just can't bring myself to do anything with his remains. I don't want to look at urns. I don't want to have to decide. I don't want to have to ask questions, make plans...relive. I think I would like him in a nice urn, sewn inside of a teddy bear. Actually, I prefer a fish. I call my daughter Muffin, she is my little bird. I always pictured my son as a fish. A cartoon like fish, soft blue and green with big squishy cheeks. Maybe large polka dots. It seems irreverent. And an old teddy bear, made special for Logan seems more appropriate. But then what? Where do I put the Bear? In my closet, so that my daughter doesn't try to play with it? I've thought about a Niche. I've thought about burying him with a grandparent. I've thought about burying him at the base of his new tree, once it's planted. But to be honest, I just don't think I can let him leave again. I think that perhaps if he was in a bear, I could hold the bear...and not be a freak. But I still can't work up enough umph, enough courage, enough strength to get an urn. So, he sits...in his stupid bowl, in his stupid box on top of my stupid armoire...and I see him every day.

It's too bad Aubrey's little brother had to die.

I'm not a tolerant person. I never have been, but I am far worse now. And to top it all off, I'm obsessive. I was reading this from Lea's blog when it reminded me of what my husbands grandmother said to me the other day...

"It's too bad Aubrey's little brother had to die. She likes company. There's still time for another one."

I didn't even respond. What do you say to something like that? Yea, it's a shame. She would have liked having him around. No kidding. Me too! She said that two days after she said this...

"Aubrey needs a brother or a sister Heather. Get busy!"

Because, after all, she's an only child because I haven't been busy.

Because, after all, she's an only child because I didn't TRY to give her a brother.

Because, after all, it's my fault she's an only child.

I have to "let it go" several times a day. The woman is 95. She doesn't think before she speaks. She's not malicious. This is what I tell myself several times a day. And they wonder why I can't bare to be around her anymore. We used to be very close. She's even had 2 miscarriages. She was very sad when Logan died. But she just can't keep her mouth shut.

And I just don't want to hear it.

Yes, my muffin needs a sibling. I tried. I really, truly did. He died. That's not my fault. And if it were up to me, she'd have a gaggle of siblings.

I just wanted my teeth cleaned

I went to the dentist today. As I walked into the waiting room the receptionist says to me "Is that a baby you got in there!?" Meaning, apparently, that my pudgy stomach still makes me look newly pregnant. Yay. As if I didn't feel down enough. Before I could think about what I was saying, I said "No. Just had one." Ok, I know 4 months isn't JUST, but whatever. As soon as I said it I wished I would have stopped at "No." or better yet, cancelled the blasted appointment I wasn't in the mood to be at to begin with. The two ladies behind the desk began they're onslaught of typical new baby questions. I found myself rubbing the top of the counter as my face turned about 15 shades of red before I said "No. My baby didn't make it." to which one lady replied how sorry she was and to which the other idiot said "well, I'm sure IT'S in a better place!" to which I replied "Well, I don't know that I agree with that." and awkwardly walked to my chair where I turned and said "IT was a boy." IT? Did she seriously call my baby an IT? I was embarrassed. Or maybe ashamed. I don't know. I don't know if I was ashamed to show emotions in public to perfect strangers, or if, as my husband suggested I was embarrassed for them and their awkwardness. Guess I'll be the topic of conversation at dinner tonight. I hate that. I hate that I feel weird about it. I wish I could look people square in the face when I tell them my son died. But I can't. I always look down or away. It's not my fault he died. But I guess deep down inside I know it was my faulty egg. My body that didn't do it's job. My body that let my son down. And maybe not because of anything I did outright, but because it was just a bad month. A bad egg. And for that, perhaps I feel shame, guilt...something. It isn't logical. Anyhow, the two ladies went about whispering (for real?? I didn't bother to look up), I'm sure about who was to spread the "news" to my hygienist. Then the idiot one decided it was appropriate to make small talk with me in an overly cheery voice about the stupid weather. "Oh, sheesh. Your baby died? Is it still cold out? Looks like rain." DUH. I knew I shouldn't have gone today. I just didn't want to go. Then, while I'm in the hygienists chair, I have to fill out my questionnaire about my current health. Last time I was there I wrote that I was pregnant. There it was. Staring at me. So, in this visit's column I wrote "Stillborn". I don't know why. I doubt they needed to know that. But it was almost like I needed a period after pregnancy. It ended. There is no baby at home. My usually very chatty hygienist was fairly quiet today. I don't know if it's because the receptionists told her, or if she saw what I wrote, or if she was just tired. I don't really care. I was glad she didn't want to chat. I didn't want to chat either. I just wanted my teeth cleaned.

2 New Song's For Logan

I added two new songs to Logan's Playlist.
They are "You Have Been Loved" by George Michael and
"If Teardrops Were Diamonds" by Dwight Yoakam & Willie Nelson

You Have Been Loved - George Michael
She takes the back road and the lane
Past the school that has not changed
In all this time
She thinks of when the boy was young
All the battles she had won
Just to give him life
That man
She loved that man
For all his life
But now we meet to take him flowers
And only God knows why
For what's the use in pressing palms
When children fade in mother's arms
It's a cruel world
We've so much to lose
And what we have to learn, we rarely choose
So if it's God who took her son
He cannot be the one
Living in her mind
Take care my love, she said
Don't think that God is dead
Take care my love, she said
You have been loved
If I was weak, forgive me
But I was terrified
You brushed my eyes with angel's wings
Full of love
The kind that makes devils cry
So these days
My life has changed
And I'll be fine
But she just sits and counts the hours
Searching for her crime
So what's the use of pressing palms
If you won't keep such love from harm
It's a cruel world
You've so much to prove
And heaven help the ones who wait for you
Well, I've no daughters, I've no sons
Guess I'm the only one
Living in my life
Take care my love, he said
Don't think that God is dead
Take care my love, he said
You have been loved

If Teardrops Were Diamonds - Dwight Yoakam & Willie Nelson
If teardrops were diamonds
And only mine were used
They could pave every highway coast to coast
And not be close to through
If teardrops were diamonds, cold blue.
If heartaches were rubies
Stacked up just like stones
There would be a mountain ten miles high
Built by mine alone
If heartaches were rubies, mine alone.
You might begin to understand
The price that love has to pay for being wrong
If sad thoughts were emeralds
And with not counting in between
Just half the ones I've had today
Could turn the whole world green
If sad thoughts were emeralds
And the world turned green
You might just get the message that
There's more to loneliness than can be seen
If teardrops were diamonds
And only mine were used...