Lost.....

Lost is how I've been feeling on most days. Lost for words when asked questions....I often find myself rambling and sometimes tired when speaking. Lost for a daily plan....I find myself engaged in a lot of TV and brainless activities just to drown my mind from thinking of what I'm missing. Even on the most beautiful summer days, staying inside allows me to not think so much of the summertime fun I would be having if B was here. Lost in the land of imagination.....I often drift into what B "would be doing" and imagine him with Owen, enjoying the beach, playing at the park, potty training, sleeping in his new bed. Lost in thought....I find myself drifting down memory lane and sometimes this leads me to horrible flashbacks of "that" night. Flashbacks of that night take me to a place no parent should ever have to live yet here I sit reliving it time and time again. Hearing your child say your name one last time....hearing him cry....frantically calling 911....hearing Rich yell for B to fight....feeling relief when the paramedics arrive....enduring the longest car ride of my life....hanging onto hope.....having to hear the doctors tell you there's nothing more they can do....watching as several medical personel are fighting to save our son....seeing the surgeon, our miracle maker, and wondering why he couldn't perform one more miracle.....holding B in my arms, kissing his precious face, inspecting every inch of is body so I will never forget what his fingers, toes, scars, and freckles look like, telling him he is the most perfect son in the whole world and that it isn't his fault that he has to leave us. I relive this and am in disbelief it was me who endured all this. It's like I'm watching a movie of another mother holding her son for the last time. I mourn for this other mother when in fact it is actually me. Sadness, emptiness, a sense of longing....these are all words that really can't paint the true picture of what it feels like on the inside. I described to a friend recently that the emptiness is like a dull ache....it's always there and you most certainly feel it, but it's almost impossible to describe it so that another person knows exaclty how it feels.

Losing B has created some really weird quirks (if you'd call it that). I find myself not being able to use the "d" word (death, died, dead). I find that it makes it all too real. I even find myself stopping dead in my tracks when someone says, "when Braden died." I mean hello, it happened, so why can't I say it? Instead I use the phrases, "passed away" or "the night it happened." I even stop and think of how to phrase it without using the "d" word. The toothbrush and handtowel have never moved...they still sit in the bathroom where B used them last. I cringe when I hear another toddler cry for fear it will bring me back to "that night." I'm anxious when I hear another toddler laugh for fear it will sound so much like B that I won't be able to handle the emotions it might bring. Certain pictures of him can bring on the tears instantly where others I could look at all day without such strong emotions. I get upset when Wlllard Scott announces the Smuckers birthdays of the 100 plus year old people. It makes me mad that Joe Shmoe can live to 103 and yet my son couldn't live to the age of 3. I get sad when I see other toddlers or families of toddlers and newborns....a place we should be. That's when I question and even want to yell "why us?" Why can't we be "that" family.....why in the hell do we have to be "this" family? Lastly, Braden was the HLHS boy who offered so many other families hope. Now, we are the family whose story ended tragically...the story people now share for different reasons. Where is the hope now one may ask.....

......here is the hope: The hope is that someday this family will rise again and find peace in their day....the hope that Braden's legacy will inspire an individual to work even harder for a cause and cure for CHD....the hope that this broken family will mend by the support of others....the hope that God will continue to bless this family with more gifts. As you know and I've strongly stated, Owen is our gift..our new little miracle....the one who has given us life again. But there is more....a friend from church came to me in the early days of our grief and she stated that during the times when we hurt so badly, God gives us people in our lives to help us get through these difficult days. She too knows what it feels like to lose a child. At first, I didn't want to believe it....I was very angry and at a loss for how to deal with our new friend, "grief." Little by little, as people crept into our lives...new friends, old friends, family, and even strangers....I came to believe in this new found hope. Thank you to those of you who have contributed to this beautiful gift.

That's all for now.....
Steph