Day 15

Wave of Light


Today I light a candle to honor my Casper, and all the babies who died too soon.

My candle carries Casper's name as well as the names of several other babies who have become special to me.  Their mommies are some of the people who mean the world to me.

I lit my candle this morning at 7 am, and plan to leave it burn until it is all gone.  That will include the hour between 7 and 8 pm.


Casper, you lit up my life for the short time you were here, and your light will shine in my heart until the end of time.



I need to update this.  Tonight a dear friend of mine from high school posted a couple pictures to my Facebook page in honor of today - Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.

He lit all the candles around 6:30 pm, and left them lit while he did a workout.  Then he blew all of them but one out, leaving a light shine for Casper.

His response to my message of gratitude was this - "The light that on my deck that these 55 candles was putting out was amazing and beautiful, just like your angel. You're welcome."

Day 14

Community

I have no found anything close to me "in real life" as a support group.  Because I don't believe in God, and I know most every group out there is faith-based, I haven't even looked.  I have always had a hard time with the faith community, since they don't support or respect those of us who see things differently.

Facebook has been my lifeline.  The people I've met, and the support I've received online, has been a lifeline.  I came across a group strictly for those who do NOT believe in God, people who are atheist or agnostic.  There are several in the group who are Wiccan or some other beliefs.  But the general consensus is that there is no god in control of the world.

I have met some of the most amazing and supportive ladies in this group.  They feel and think so much like me, and there is no judgment for not believing.  We all know that our babies are gone, we will not see them again, and that there is no understanding WHY our children were taken.  (too perfect for earth, needed for a higher purpose, etc)

Without these ladies, and their support, I would not be where I am today....

Day 13

Signs

I don't believe in "signs" from above.  I don't believe that my son is alive somewhere else, or that he is a ghost or an angel or anything else.  I know he is gone.  I know I will never see him again.

I know people like to believe they will be with their child again and look for signs that their child is out there waiting for them.....

I don't disillusion myself.  Yes, it is harder.  But I know I won't be disappointed.

Day 12

Scent

The smell I associate the most with Casper is the baby wash they used at the hospital.  I asked to keep the rest of the bottle the nurse used to bathe him.  There are days when I am so down and missing him that I will take a bath myself using his soap.  I feel surrounded by him, and it gives me the smallest measure of comfort. It is a smell I will forever hold as his smell.

Day 11

Supportive Family/Friends

This is not even a fraction of the people who have come to mean so much to me.

I owe such a debt of gratitude to my dad and stepmom.  They came to the hospital when I was first admitted.  They came again to bring the kids and to come meet Casper.  They hosted the memorial gathering, and helped us with the cost of Casper's memory stuff.

My children have been so supportive as well.  They have been profoundly affected by the loss of their baby brother, even though they have all tried to be so strong.

The very first friend I made in the baby loss community was Kaz - Kayleigh Beard.  She lost her daughter Ayda just a couple months before, and she was the first person I really connected with.  It's been almost a year since we met, and although she lives on another continent, she is one of the most important people in my life right now.

So many of my other friends from high school and such have been amazing.  I have to give a special mention to Marian, Nicole, Susan, Courtney, and Bridget.

The very best support has been the other baby loss moms that I have met along the way.  Some I have known since almost the beginning of my journey.  Some I have only met recently.  I have to give a special mention of Amber and Penny - we are like sisters.  Each and every one of of these ladies have been a such a special part of my walk down the road of loss.  I would not be here without them.

I know this graphic that I made does not include everyone who has been there for me.  I tried my best to add as many as I could.  I have been so blessed to be surrounded by love and support, and all of those who have been there for me know...

Day 10

Symbol


I have always loved stars.  On a clear night, I love to sit and look at the sky.

When Casper died, my husband and I both decided that Casper was going to be our shooting star, the brightest star in the night sky.  We would love for him every night in the sky.

I don't believe in heaven, but I know that the spirit of my son is out there somewhere.  My baby lives in the stars now, and I can see him every night when the sky is clear.

Day 9

Special Place


There is no special place I go, where I have good memories of my son.  The "places" I associate with him are bad - the clinic where it was confirmed his heart beat was gone, the hospital where he was delivered, and the funeral home where he was cremated.  All within a one mile radius, and thankfully in a different town.  (though pregnant with my rainbow baby and having to deal with 2 of the 3 somewhat often has been a trial...)

Set on a dresser top in our living room, where I spend most of my days, I sit and stare at my little boy's memory box.

Day 8

Jewelry


I am addicted to jewelry, always have been and always will.  I have so many pieces to honor my son, and this is just a few of them.

The blue heart was made by Wendy Windrich.  It's made from polymer clay, with a blue stone for the month he was due, and the yellow flower because he was born in November.  The charm also glows in the dark.

Wendy's daughter Jenalea has a son who was stillborn during delivery, with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.  She contributes part of her proceeds to baby loss groups.

The ring is Casper's birthstone, citrine, with a small black diamond on either side - one for me and one for him.  Citrine is also my birthstone.

The necklace at the center also has a citrine stone.  Above that are 2 free-form hearts that are entwined.  To me, it symbolizes that my son and I will always be together.

The round metal heart was hand made by another angel mom, Larisa Mulvenna-Barth.  It is hand stamped, with a blue bead and a butterfly charm.

Last but not least is a beaded bracelet I made myself.  The colored beads are a gold color that were the closest I could find to his birthstone.  On each side of his name is a star.

I wear the ring, the bracelet, and the entwined hearts necklace every day.  The other 2 pieces are hung on Casper's wall.

Day 7

What To Say

Knowing what to say can be as hard as what NOT to say.  People are tempted to say that would bring comfort to them.  But that can be hurtful to a grieving person, if they don't believe in the same ideas.

Just letting the person know that you are there for them, that you would like to help in anyway you can, sometimes that alone is enough.  We just need to know that people care about us and are there to listen.

A simple, "I'm sorry for your loss" is the easiest and most comforting thing we could hear.

Day 6

What Not to Say

I know people are usually at a loss for words.  They want to offer comfort, but having never even imagined something like child loss, they don't know what is comforting.  Some things work for some people, some don't.

I got some religious words from certain people, and I know that those words would have comforted them, but for me it doesn't work.  I do not believe in god or any kind of god.  My son is dead, not in heaven or with god.  Bigger plans?  No....  my son should be in my arms, nothing is more important than a child being with their mother.

I had someone tell me that her losses were just as bad as mine, even though they were not nearly as far along as mine.  Having had an early miscarriage, I can say for certain that the 2 experiences are very different.  My son was fully developed and would have lived perfectly delivered at that same time if not for the cord accident.  I would never presume to tell a mother who's child lived for minutes or hours or even days after birth that I knew exactly how they felt....  Yes, it is similar, but so much different.  And I am not you, you are not me.  We each process things differently.....

The hardest comment I had to deal with is being told that someone else was dealing with such-and-such a situation.  As if that makes my pain less?  That my hurt is less than theirs or less important?  Considering the situations were far from the same, and people I really didn't even know, it just made me angry.  Yes, I am sorry for their pain and what they are going through.  But that doesn't make my pain go away or any less.

MY son died.  Inside of my body.  I failed my child.  Nothing will change that, and what I feel and go through is MY personal journey.  If you don't know what to say, say nothing.  Offer your sympathy and love, and leave it at that.  Don't tell me how to feel or what to think or any other platitudes.  Even if you THINK you know, or have been through something similar, YOU are not ME.

Day 5

Memorial

Everywhere I look, I am surrounded by memories of my son.  He is truly a part of my every day of life.  At home, we have one whole devoted to him.  On a dresser is his memory box, which holds his ducky with his ashes sewn inside as well as the gown and hat he wore at the hospital and some other treasures.  (Casper means keeper of the treaure)  His scrapbook is right behind that.  On a keepsake shelf, I have his photo album, a snowbabies box, and a special heart on a color-changing pedestal.  The heart was sent from England from my first baby loss mom friend.  She also sent a glass star ornament engraved with Casper's name and date, which hangs on the wall.  We have pictures and certificates framed on the wall.  Several pieces from a word art project are also placed around him.  His star light is left on all night long, every night.  I stop and talk to him, and shed a few tears, at least once a day.

I also got 2 tattoos, so that I can carry my son with me, on me, every second of every day.  To me, tattoos have always been a way to express things that are special to me.  I have a star tattoo with their initial for each of my children.  Because Casper is my child, but not here on Earth with me, I wanted to do something a little different.  I decided to get a shooting star, with his initial.  My tattoo artist came up with the idea for the trails, and we added a halo over his C.  The second tattoo is a baby angel sleeping, with his name and date underneath, and an infinity symbol below that.  Of all my tattoos, these 2 mean the most to me and are the most treasured.

Day 4

Treasured Item

I had to include 2 things.  The first is the blanket my best friend and Casper's godmother sent.  The other is a stuffed ducky that the hospital gave us the day Casper was delivered.

I had my husband bring the blanket to the hospital while I was waiting to be induced.  I wanted something from home, something that was ours, to wrap him and hold him.  The blanket is micro-plush, and the perfect shade of baby blue.

We have several pictures of Casper with his ducky from the hospital.  We also talked about what to do with his ashes.  It was an easy decision that he would be cremated, because neither of us could fathom burying him in the ground.  I could stand the thought of putting him in the cold, hard ground.  Jay agreed.  We went to the funeral home without a real idea of what we would do.  Looking at all of the caskets and urns confirmed that we wanted something special for him.  So we decided that we would find some way to hold his ashes inside of his ducky.  We took all the stuffing out, placed the bag inside, and sewed the ducky back together.

His ducky rests inside a glass display box, along with the suit he wore at the hospital and the hat he wore.  We also have a collection of special treasures that he watches over.  There is also the hospital tag that was made for Casper and a necklace made of the letters of his name.

Since I can not hold him or cuddle him, I have slept with his blanket every night since I left the hospital empty-handed.  It's not the same as holding my son, but I feel closest to him when I have his blankie in my arms.

Day 3

After loss self portrait

This was taken the morning Casper was delivered forever sleeping.  You can see I'm all hooked up to everything, being monitored.  But I didn't care....  All I cared about was holding my precious son, my world in tatters.  It was this moment that I knew it was all over, there was no coming back, there was no mistake.

I avoided pictures after this.  I avoided mirrors.  I avoided a lot....  I wanted to crawl in a hole and pretend the world didn't exist.  I remember thinking that it was unfair that the rest of life moved on like nothing was different, but my whole existence was shattered and nothing would ever be the same.  But I had no choice to continue living.  I had my beautiful daughter who needed me, and the rest of my family to take care of.

It's been just short of a year since this day....  And yet my heart is still raw and broken.  It will forever be missing a piece.  Nothing will ever replace that piece, nothing will ever close that hole.....

Day 2

Pre-loss self portrait

I don't have many pictures of myself while I am pregnant.  I don't have many pictures of myself at all.  But this was a Halloween/birthday party family get-together just the weekend before the world flipped me upside down.  I believe this is the last picture of me truly happy.

In truth, I was somewhat miserable that night.  I was so big and uncomfortable.  But I had my boy, and I felt him moving.  I was surrounded by my family, those who love me.  I knew that very soon I would be holding my precious son in my arms.  I was blissfully ignorant to the world of baby loss.....

Day 1

Sunrise.  The day my son was delivered stillborn, I did not see the sun rise.  I was in the hospital delivering him, he came at 7:31 am.  I was in labor when the sun was waking up.  I never wanted to see another sunrise.  I never wanted to see another day, without my son.  I still don't care to see the sun rise on a world without my son....  I've never been much of a morning person anyway.  Our time together, when I felt most connected to him, was right before bed.  Laying in bed, feeling him move and kick and squirm.  Those were the best parts of my day.