Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving should be a holiday with no strings attached. Should be. But I can't help but feel somber during this time of year. Tommy was alive for two Thanksgivings. Both of them in the hospital and very sick. He never got to spend this holiday at home with his family and neither did I. I ate a nice dinner provided by volunteers and had plates of leftovers brought to me both years.

I gave thanks both years that he was alive and although sick, I was thankful for just one more day.

The first Thanksgiving after his death left me with a tremendous heartache and feeling like a void would never be filled. I thought I would never be thankful again, but the feeling passed with time. I learned to enjoy my life a little more and how to ignore the constant stabbing feeling of loss for a few hours at a time. Trust me, there's not a moment that doesn't go by that I don't ache in every nerve of my body. I've just learned to hide it.

I guess the best analogy I can give for my grief is a dog on a shock collar. You know, the kind that is underground to keep them from running into the road. It gives a mild jolt if they cross the boundary. At first, they have no idea what is going on and keep getting zapped over and over until they realize just to stay away from that place. They can run around the yard happy and content, but they will always be tethered to an annoying collar that they can feel. It can feel uncomfortable at times, but it's always there, but its bearable as long as they don't cross the boundary. One day, maybe playing fetch, they absentmindedly leap over the boundary to get that incredible shock again. They knew it was there, and tried not to go there, but it was inevitable. Unavoidable.

But do you know what? I'm thankful for the pain. It means I FEEL something. I am no longer numb. I cry, I mourn. I love. I'm thankful to have been given the gift of Tommy. With all of his sickness, machines, accessories, and endless doctor's visits. For every hospital stay, every blood draw, every suture. Every moment we spent "fixing" him was one more moment he got to spend with me. One more moment I got to be his mommy.

I've mentioned before his last moments, how he was watching "Nemo", then gone, but there was an in between time. A precious, precious moment I will carry with me forever. When he started to decline, he wet his bed and the nurse came to change his sheets. I picked him up and held him against my chest, his head on my shoulder. His breath was short and labored. We turned on his oxygen and he curled his hands into my shirt as I rocked him. The nurse said he was sleeping, but really, I think in hindsight he was just too weak to open his eyes. He held me and I held him and we rocked, his heart next to mine. He was hot and sweaty, moistening the front of my shirt. I rubbed his back and whispered how much I loved him in his ear. Less than an hour later, he would be resting his head on God's shoulder instead of mine.

I got to hold my son for a few short minutes before he died, not knowing it would be my last. It was a moment of peace, and pure love. Just a mother and her son, embracing on a tough night. For that, I give thanks. 

Five

There would have been five candles on your cake today. I like to think you would have been able to blow them out. In Heaven, you are still five. You are strong, healthy, laughing, playing, running. Five years ago, I was given the greatest honor by becoming your mom.

Kindergarten.

Picking flowers.

Singing.

Hide and seek.

My heart sings at the thoughts of what you could be doing today. They are bittersweet moments in my mind.

I miss you so much. Today, you would have been five.

Three Years Ago

It's been three years. Almost. I'm a little early, but I was inspired, and I had the time to put it together. I heard this song a week ago and I cried and cried and cried. It was so appropriate for my sweet Tommy.

Inspired

Yesterday, for the first time, I was able to write a poem without being in pain. Usually my poetry comes from a dark, sad place, but yesterday, the words flew out of me as I smiled and pictured what Heaven must be like for Tommy. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it for him on Mother's Day.

My Little One plays in Heaven tonight
Among the clouds so soft and light

He slides down rainbows trying to catch the stars
Using his halo like he's driving a car

His wings are covered in sparkly dust
His nose is a little smudged, but nobody makes a fuss

His beautiful eyes make the angels sigh
with their twinkle of blue that never cries

He chases his friends on pudgy bare feet
And giggles when he catches them with rosy red cheeks

He tumbles in the clouds pretending to be a plane
His stomps make the thunder and bring down the rain

The wind is his hand playing with my hair
The sunshine on my face, his kisses, telling me he's there

I miss you so much that I should come undone
But how can I cry when Heaven is so much fun?

Down Came The Rain

Today was Easter. A time of new beginnings. Springtime, and of course, rain. It always rains on Easter. All of my childhood memories have rain on Easter.

The rain reminds me of Tommy. After he died, it rained for days. As if the Earth were crying tears with us. All I could remember was the day Tommy looked out the front door at the rain and got this look of "I get it!" and began to sign the motions from "Itsy Bitsy Spider". What a tremendous moment to see him realize that he knew it was rain and he knew how to tell me.

Not a rainy day will go by without that memory playing in my heart.

Tommy has been heavily on my mind for other reasons today. My sister is having a baby. I'm trying to decide how I feel about passing down some of Tommy's things. I don't know how she would feel either. When I have a free day this week, I plan to go out to the shed and open the boxes of his things and see if anything speaks to me. I will know what to do when it feels right.

I know this is short and sweet. My life is growing in new directions and I don't know how to include them on the blog just yet. I don't want to shift gears from posting about grief and memories to day to day life without some sort of segue. I'm working on it.

Rock Star

My son was a ROCK STAR! There's no other way to say it. Even before he was born he was awesome. His name started out because I wanted to name him after a friend of mine named Thomas. That ended up being Tommy Lee. His dad and I looked at each other when we were coming up with the name of our little guy and we both knew it as soon as it came out of his mouth that would be his name. Both of us have always been huge Motley Crue fans, especially Tommy Lee.

Our son would have to be born hard core. He would have to fight for every breath, every heartbeat. Naming him after a Rock God seemed natural. How bad ass is Tommy Lee when he flips upside down and drums in the rotating cage? Fearless.

If you look closely at the picture above, Tommy is holding his dad's drumsticks. They're Tommy Lee signature series. Fitting for my little rock star. He was fearless, charismatic, hard core. We named him just right.

Walking In My Shoes

Tonight, there was a debate on Facebook about abortion. I know, HOT topic and everyone is set in their beliefs. I'm not here to convert you, convince you or belittle your thinking. I'm here to merely share MY story. See that word? It says MY. Nobody on this Earth can have it, change it or live it. I'm not here for judgement or acceptance. I just feel the need to tell another side. It's food for thought.

My pregnancy with Tommy was not an accident. It was a conscience decision made by my husband and me. I was 34 and we wanted just one more, maybe have a little girl if we were so blessed. It was a hard decision because my pregnancy with Brandon had been very difficult. So, in Spring of 2006, the stick had two lines. I went to the doctor to confirm and found my due date was around November 12. For those of you doing the math in your head, yes, my Heart Baby was conceived on or around Valentine's Day. It all sounds so perfect doesn't it? Rob and I were able to both start new jobs around the same time doing things we both enjoyed. The kids were able to get into a nice daycare that happened to be next door to Matthew's school and was on the bus route home from my job so I could pick them up.

You have to understand that life had never been this good for us before. For the first time, we were working "career" jobs and getting ahead of the game. We had a mortgage, cable tv, and a tiny bit of fun money. Not bad, because a year or two before we found ourselves practically homeless. With life this good, how could we NOT have a baby?

I had it all planned out. Daycare, maternity leave, savings, baby stuff. I even felt confident enough in my 4th month to change jobs to something literally right around the corner from home so I could walk to work. It was good for me, the baby and I loved the change.

Early in my 5th month, I was working a Sunday afternoon. It was light work, very easy on my growing belly. Until I began to bleed. My pregnancy with Brandon had been partial placenta previa, so I was upset, but knew it could be something we could treat. I was instructed to lay down for the day and come in Monday morning for an ultrasound. I had an ultrasound every day for nearly a week and nobody could explain to me what was happening. They were positive it was not placenta previa. I was scheduled for a level two ultrasound at Medical University of South Carolina. (MUSC)

I'm sorry. I have to pause.

We all know that day that Tommy was diagnosed with congenital heart defects not compatible with life. I was given some options. Do nothing, multiple surgeries on my newborn son, or terminate. I was told he would be a very sick little boy and even though surgery usually had a good outcome, nothing was guaranteed. I had three weeks to decide to end my pregnancy. I was put on bed rest, I had to quit my job. Our income was now down to half. The kids had to be taken out of daycare. I looked to my husband for support, but he couldn't cope. He told me termination was my decision.

For three weeks, I researched his heart defect. I found his particular defect was so different and difficult that I could only find bits and pieces about it. At the time, there was only an 83% success rate with the surgeries he needed. Could I put a child through that? Could I go through that? I was almost 6 months pregnant and he had never kicked. No flutters, no hiccups. Nothing. I was not his mom. I was just a woman with a positive pregnancy test and baby that would die when he was born. I sat on my porch and cried. Trying to feel SOMETHING for the child growing inside me. There was nothing there. I felt so empty, guilty, alone. What right did I have to bring a child into this world to let him suffer?

I cried more. I prayed. My doctors didn't even wait for the depression, they gave me Prozac right away. I went to Maternal Fetal Medicine and genetic counseling. Nothing. Three weeks of the most empty feeling I have ever had in my life. I was on the cusp of termination. Ready to let it all go and get back to my life.

And then he kicked me. Had he not, we would have never known Tommy. You would not be reading this blog. I would have aborted my sick baby who in my head and heart was not going to live anyway. But he kicked me.

I don't regret contemplating abortion. I'm not ashamed of my decision and I will never blame a woman if she makes that choice. Because that is what it is. A choice. It was something I had to wrestle with. Something only I could decide. In my head, I was sparing both of us the pain, and eventually, there was plenty of pain to go around.

Do I regret having him? Not for a second! Yes, he did die. He suffered through pain, procedures, surgeries, feeding tubes, needles, illness, and countless stays in the hospital. But when it all comes down to it, I had to go through the process of letting him go before he was born. I had to decide I was ready for all of it without really knowing what I was up against. Had I been a younger, less experienced mom, I don't know if I could have had him. Every moment of his life was a heart wrenching, beautiful battle. I am stronger because of him, but what if I couldn't have done it all? Should I have had a child I could not care for?

Deep, sensitive questions for another day.