Retail Therapy

Retail therapy is a common theme in my life, even if it's just window shopping as the art of distraction. I love shopping! The hunt to find and gather all of the things you need and want, so satisfying. Lately I find myself feeling like I need to have things for Oliver or Andrew that I think they need, as if this will make everything better.... Oliver needs that toy, he wants it! I want Andrew to have new boots, a nice new shirt...I think he deserves to have whatever he may want. Feeds right into the season now too, buy, buy, buy. But somehow, all that I've gathered isn't enough, it isn't right....it isn't fixing anything.
I noticed us doing this over the summer as well, we justified buying a few new things and be damned the finances! An Ipad, a PS3 to play movies in...suddenly we NEEDED these things. But when I step back and recognize this behaviour I also recognize what we were trying to fix and what I've been doing all over again.
An Ipad is a great distraction, but it won't bring back my baby. A PS3 player makes it easier to play Oliver's movies, but it isn't like having a little brother to play with. Some new boots are useful for Andrew, but they don't take the pain of losing your son away. These are all just band aids that we are putting on a wound that is irreparable. 
Even if I have everyTHING that I need or want for my family, if I buy, buy, buy everything....it still isn't enough to fill this gaping hole in my heart and it never will be.

Ugly shoes

Someone told me about this poem recently, is it weird to say I like it? 

“A Pair of Shoes”

Author Unknown

I am wearing a pair of shoes.

They are ugly shoes.

Uncomfortable shoes.

I hate my shoes.

Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair.

Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step.

Yet, I continue to wear them.

I get funny looks wearing these shoes.

They are looks of sympathy.

I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not

theirs.

They never talk about my shoes.

To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.

To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.

But, once you put them on, you can never take them off.

I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes.

There are many pairs in this world.

Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.

Some have learned how to walk in them so they don’t hurt quite as much.

Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think

about how much they hurt.

No woman deserves to wear these shoes.

Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman.

These shoes have given me the strength to face anything.

They have made me who I am.

I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

Tattoos

I had my memorial tattoo for Max done and I'm so happy with how it turned out!
At first I wasn't sure if I wanted to do anything more than just the butterfly, something little. I thought I didn't want something that said to everyone that I had 'lost a baby' (I hate that sentence, maybe more on that later). I was worried that it might become a conversation topic when I didn't want it to and that it might upset me. I finally realized that it upsets me, whether I have a tattoo or not and whether or not I see it all the time....it's always there.
I decided to have his footprint tattooed on my wrist, surrounded by stars and a butterfly to symbolize his spiritual transition. The butterfly is also designed to have the shape of an M in the wing.
I am so very glad that we took his footprints that day in the hospital. I thought they'd just be a keepsake in a book somewhere, I didn't have any idea at the time what they would mean to me.
I will always carry this mark on my heart, where a piece of it died with Max that day. Now I have his footprint seared on my wrist as indelibly as the print it left on my soul.

Little Footprints

by Dorothy Ferguson 

How very softly you tiptoed into my world.

Almost silently, only a moment you stayed. 

But what an imprint your footsteps have left upon my heart

Spilled Milk

I'm finding myself short on patience lately, I don't want to always be so angry. I guess it's just the spilled milk issue...trust me, it's not worth crying over. Wipe it up and move on, don't waste your energy getting so upset over something so simple and please don't expect me to empathize.
I know that life is slowly settling back into a routine and life and death matters aren't so close to the forefront of my mind, but I'm reminded everyday that there are more important things than the bills being paid and whether or not I remember to call someone back. I don't mean to or want to compare things, but when someone complains to me about an issue...it's hard not to. I guess my perspective is very different than it used to be. I also feel very used up and empty, I don't have much sympathy to give right now. I don't really have anything to give right now. 
Sometimes I feel really good for a few days, maybe even a week or so...but then I fall back for a few days. It seems to be settling into a pattern and I notice that if I'm feeling especially well for a while, I'm going to crash for a few days. It's like I find the joy in life again, but I'm not quite ready for it. The contrast in being able to find any joy is brought into such stark relief with the sadness and pain.  
I do find that the grief still surprises me at the most unusual times. The places I've cried....not really anywhere you'd necessarily suspect to cry and sometimes the obvious places too. The shower, my bed, work, the cereal aisle at the grocery store, the gas station waiting to get my gas pumped and driving on the freeway. It's almost funny how normal it has become to cry, but certainly not over spilled milk.....

Anger and hate

Wow, have I ever been angry lately! Sometimes I've been so angry that I almost can't stand myself. I found my thoughts focusing on old hurts and people that aren't even in my life anymore, just ranting, angry thoughts. I feel so hateful! I hate the world somedays. I hate other drivers while I'm driving, I hate that woman who smiled at me - she looks too happy. I hate the red lights, I hate the snow, I hate, hate, hate! I finally realized the other day that this anger has nothing to do with any of these old issues or the world itself, it's part of the grief. I am angry that my child died. I hate that my baby died and never got a chance at life.
Of course I'm angry, I'm so mad at the world right now. I want to yell and scream and I want someone to hurt as bad as I do! I hate that some people are hurting as bad as I am. I know this isn't helping, lashing out will only make me feel worse in the long run. I'm not that kind of person, I can't stay this level of angry for very long. It hurts to feel so wound up, but that's how everything feels lately. It all just hurts.

Tears on my pillow

The other day someone said, "One day this won't be the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning and the last thing you think of before you go to sleep at night." and I realized I do that. Oh my gosh, I totally do that! Then I thought 'Really? Yeah, right!'
I pray/talk to Max every night before I fall asleep. I have a picture of him, a cross that was a gift after he passed and a prayer that I framed hanging on the wall beside my bed, some might call this a shrine... I don't care.
I lay there at night and I look at his beautiful little face, when it's too painful I shut the lights off and talk to him in the dark. I'm getting really good at this tears on my pillow thing, some nights Andrew doesn't even notice. I tell Max that one day we'll be together again and that I will spend the rest of my life waiting to see his beautiful little face again. I tell him how much I love him and miss him and would give anything to hold him again. I've even 'felt' him move, I've heard other mothers have had this same experience. I remember reading about it right after he passed and I thought it was phooey, but sometimes it's exactly that feeling of a baby moving...when you're about six months along, noticeable and definitely not gas. My hand goes straight to my tummy, I'm so eager to feel him again.....but then it's gone.... like a ghost. And my belly isn't six months pregnant..... it's empty and that's how I feel.
I also talk to God and ask him to keep my baby safe, I hope someone is snuggling him in their arms for me and loving him how I wanted to.
Some nights I have a hard time falling asleep and I have to force myself to think of anything else.
The mornings are usually easier, if I'm lucky I sleep until I hear Oliver awake and then he's the first thing on my mind. He's busy, I like busy...busy is good.
Most of the time I wake up before everyone and by then it's light out and I look at Max's picture again and I can't make myself close my eyes and I can't shut my brain off...... and there are tears on my pillow.

What to do?

I know that they say the worst time to make change is in the midst of a crisis, but there is also something about crisis that makes change necessary. For months before Max was born I didn't think I would go back to work, or at least not the same job. Now I am going back to the same job, but I'm also thinking about going back to school.
I guess part of me feels like I've had a reminder of how short life is and how we need to seize every moment and make them all worthwhile. I always felt like I couldn't do it all and I should have finished school when I was younger or wait until later... Why not do it all now? It might take longer if I can only take one or two classes at a time, but at least I'll be working towards it.
The other half of me is saying I'm crazy and that I'm not in any position to make decisions right now.
I did see a psychic with a friend just before Max was born and she told me that there would be big changes coming for me in the fall. At the time I was thinking about an entirely different career change. She also told me that my baby was very alive....he was then. I thought it was interesting that she would word it that way, I didn't tell her anything about him until she was done. She said that she could sense his spirit and that he had a very strong presence and that she thought he must be a very active baby. She was right. She told me that she saw heartache in our near future followed by big changes. She was also right when she said that he would come early and that he would set his own schedule.
I think I'll just keep taking things one day at a time, put one foot in front of the other and keep moving... see where it takes me.