Scar Tissue

Our rainbow has arrived! That's right...Wyatt became a big brother to a sweet little princess on May 17. Nora Ann was born at 37 weeks, 1 day and required a short stay in the NICU for some breathing issues. Baby girl is home now, and doing just fine. She has brought joy and love into our hearts from her sweet little soul and we are forever grateful for the opportunity to parent this child, along with our Lyla girl.

I often wondered if people thought this child was a "replacement" for our boy and if our hearts would miraculously be healed by this precious little being. Some have even stated it out loud, "I hope this has helped to heal your hurt." or " I'm so glad your family is getting the happy ever after it deserves."

Well, to put it in a nutshell (because currently that is all I have time to put it in for you all, seeing as to though I have a newborn to care for :) ), this new child has given me hope, she has stolen my heart, and she has already placed many a smile on my face since her arrival just 5 short weeks ago, but unfortunately there is no cure for a wounded heart. My intentions and hopes were never for the new baby to provide any kind of healing to my pain...that is not her job and I would never place those types of expectations on my precious children.  I am thrilled to have this baby in my arms, but I will continue to long for the other.

It's a funny thing to feel grief and happiness all at once, but I have lived with this reality for over a year now, and I will continue to travel on in this life. I sometimes feel guilty when caring for Nora. Guilty because Wyatt, and all of us here on this earth that love him, were stripped of those moments with him. This momma never got to feed her baby boy a bottle or rock him to sleep. I know deep down that I shouldn't feel the guilt and I should know that Wyatt still loves his mommy, but my heart aches for those memories with my son.

A wounded heart can never be completely healed; I will always have scar tissue that remains...and that's okay. Yes, the scars sometimes hurt, and yes, I realize that some will think of this post as a jumble of confusing words because I should be completely and totally happy with my life...and I am. I am so incredibly happy with my sweet husband and two princesses, but there will ALWAYS be a missing piece to our puzzle. His name is Wyatt, and many a tear still falls as I think of what should be. Not only should I have an almost six year old pulling me in every direction, and a newborn crying (literally) for attention, but my heart knows that I SHOULD be chasing a newly turned one year old around as well. I should be so completely worn out and tired at the end of each day that it's all I can do to crawl into bed...

I still picture him in all that we do. I see a dark headed little guy running around with his cousins and getting into EVERYTHING imaginable. I see a sweet round face begging to be kissed. I see big blue eyes as they open and close very slowly as to fight off the sleep that is impeding after a long day of play. I see chubby little fingers as they tug on my pant leg in hopes to gain Mommy's attention away from the new baby. I see clumsy toddler legs as they try to climb the steps to big sissy's room.

I see my baby boy everywhere...and I miss him. OH, how I miss him.

1st Angelversary Celebration

The date was Saturday,  April 20, 2013. The skies were blue and the air was crisp. The grass was bright green and the sweet smell of newly bloomed flowers filled the air. My anxiety was high, but my heart was hopeful. The day had been one I had both looked forward to and dreaded all in the same thought for many months. Numerous hours of preparation had been put into making it both a memorable and an honorable day. Balloons were colorful and plentiful. Refreshments were delicious and appropriately presented. Donations of various items from refreshments to photography were graciously abundant and appreciated. Countless people had worked together to perfect every single detail of the event and to make sure that the ceremony was successful.

 

 



And that it was...Wyatt's first angelversary celebration was simply amazing. And by amazing I mean, bittersweet, humbling, beautiful, serene, emotional, honest, peaceful, and profound.

125 individuals purchased a "Wyatt's Wingmen" shirt in support of our celebration and in honor of our little man and over 100 people made their way to Wyatt's graveside for the balloon release on that gorgeous April day.

Celebrating from Afar:

 

 South Carolina

 

 Florida

 

England

California

 

Italy

 

Texas



$631 was raised by donations (mostly coins) and t-shirt profit. The money, along with a giant teddy bear donated by Wyatt's sweet godmother, were all mailed to the Molly Bears foundation. Approximately 14 families will receive their Molly Bear thanks to the generous donations and the love that those contributors have for our Wyatt.

 

 

 

 

 

Our Wyatt bear was passed around the crowd as the celebration went on...

 

 

 

 





Wyatt was honored with sweet and honest words, precious and heart-touching music, and tender messages sent to him on shiny, bright balloons. Pinwheels and refreshments were offered as "party favors" and "party food." The ceremony was concluded with the traditional "Happy Birthday" song as everyone gracefully released the balloons into the spring sky.

 

 



 

 





Now, this was not the celebration any mother would picture for her sweet son's first birthday, but it made my heart happy to be able to do SOMETHING to recognize his life, our journey throughout the past year, and to help others faced with the loss of a child to heal, in some small, small way.

With that said, this Momma couldn't be more proud.

We hope you enjoyed your rainbow of balloons, little guy. Kisses to you from earth to heaven. XOXO



My Dear Wyatt- It's been a year

My Dear Wyatt-

I often wonder what your life in Heaven is like. Are you wearing a brilliant white gown and do your bare feet tickle as they touch the soft clouds? Do you hear the angels singing and do you greet new babies as they enter? Do you frolic in the gardens, holding hands with Grandma or does she rock you constantly as she tells you about the love we have for you?  Can you hear me when I talk to you and tell you that I miss you? Can you see me as a tear falls down and gets caught on the corner of my smile as I think of you, my beautiful son? I wonder...

It was one year ago that we realized you would not be staying with our family to live on this Earth. It was one year ago that we weren't given the choice to have to say goodbye before we truly even had the chance to say hello. It was one year ago that our hearts were broken because our arms were empty. It was one year ago that we had to tell your eager big sister that she would never meet you...until she got to Heaven. It was one year ago that we had to learn to walk, talk, and breathe again...in a whole different world; a world without you.

Mommy truly can't believe that it has been 12 months since I held your precious body, kissed your plump cheeks, and smelled your sweet baby smell. I miss you, my son.

Until you entered our world, although lifeless you may have been, I'm not sure I truly understood what honest, pure, and unconditional love was. Don't get me wrong, I loved (still do) certain people with a never ending and selfless love, but those people were able to reciprocate my feelings and to show their appreciation of my love for them. When you came along, I realized that I loved a being that would never open his eyes to see me, who would never grasp my finger with his little hands, who would never utter a single sound, and who would be physically gone in the blink of an eye. That little being was you, Wyatt.

I owe many thanks to you, little buddy, for opening Mommy's eyes up to a world of faith and love not known before your presence.

I just wanted to let you know that Mommy loves you more and more with each new day...and with each new day the closer I become to holding you again...oh what a perfect day that will be. Until then- continue to send us kisses on butterfly wings and hugs through the breeze.

 love you to Heaven and back,

Mommy

Wyatt Bear

"An Angel Baby's Cuddle Sent To A Family In Need"- Molly Bears

Many of you may remember the mention of the Molly Bears foundation in one of my previous posts (Party Planning). If not, allow me to refresh your memory or inform you about this magnificent foundation. The creator of Molly Bears lost her baby girl, Molly, at 34 weeks gestation due to a true knot in the cord. The foundation strives to create a weighted teddy bear (to the exact weight of the lost child) for each family who have been faced with such horrible circumstances.

 I was finally able to place our baby's name on the waiting list for a weighted teddy bear back in February...the foundation only allows so many names to be added each month as they can only make so many bears per month due to the fact that they are a complete nonprofit organization and run solely on donations. I was number 6025 on the waiting list; it would have taken 16-20 months for me to ever receive my bear. The Molly Bears' team realized that simple donations were not enough to keep up with the demand of production (how sad is it that so many babies are lost so often??) so they began to offer "express passes." The express passes require a donation of $100 and guarantees your bear to be made and delivered within the next month. All families in need of a bear are not able to afford the large donation, obviously, but it takes approximately $45 to make and ship just one bear. The $100 donation would not only provide us with our Wyatt bear at a much faster rate, but it would also allow another bear to be made and shipped from the top of the waiting list. So, of course, we made the donation...

I am thrilled to say that our Wyatt bear has made his way to our home and into our hearts.

I was aware that the bear would be arriving soon, and with that known, I tried to prep myself for the emotions that may or may not come with seeing, touching, and holding the bear....it was going to weigh the exact same as my Wyatt. How would that make me feel? Happy? Sad? Excited? Devastated all over again? I wasn't sure, but I don't like the feeling of not knowing, so I progressed on anxiously awaiting Wyatt Bear's arrival.

A simple priority mail box was sitting there, staring me in the face. I saw the Molly Bears sticker on the sender spot and rubbed the smooth surface with the palm of my shaking hand. I had planned on waiting for Waylon to get home from work to open the box, but I just couldn't stand it. I called him and he insisted that I open it while on the phone with him. I gently slid a pair of scissors across the box, releasing the secured edges from their tape.  I peeled back the flaps of the box to reveal a gorgeously fluffy and brown furred teddy bear laying on it's side. I found it hard to breath. Through my crackled voice I began to describe the bear to Waylon...It was a rich brown color (like our Wyatt's hair), It had a blue and red bow tie and a blue button heart over where its heart should be, and the bear had a wonderfully thoughtful applique of an airplane right in the center of its precious belly. It was perfect. I cautiously reached into the box, momentarily forgetting how heavy 7 pounds, 6 ounces could really be, and grabbed the bear, immediately cuddling it close to me. Waylon was still on the phone asking me if I liked it...of course I liked it..I loved it.

We ended our phone call and I retreated back into our bedroom with Wyatt Bear in tow. I sat on the bed and began to gently rock the precious stuffed animal back and forth while tears ran relentlessly down my shivering cheeks. It was a strange feeling of comfort, yet déjà vu all rolled into one. I yearned to be holding my real little boy, but was proud to have something so valuable to my healing in my arms.

Waylon and Lyla met Wyatt Bear that very afternoon upon arriving home from work and school. Waylon was holding the bear silently, after proclaiming that the bear felt the exact same as Wyatt had, when the little princess made her way into the room, and in one sudden and flawless move, scooped the bear from her daddy and ran off into the other room with her new best pal.

Lyla has continued to lug around the bear from room to room as she reads to it, rocks it, and simply holds on tight to it while watching one of her favorite shows. Wyatt bear has made his place in our home, and we are thrilled to share him with others.

 

 

 

 

A Divided View: 11 Months

Eleven months ago we lived a very different life. A life which now seems to have a huge line down the center dividing it...a division of life before loss and after.

The before loss part of life is blurry in my mind to some extent, but stands out as a time of idyllic ignorance and oblivious thinking. It was a time in which I believed that somehow my planning and actions would firmly shape my life; and that as long as I didn't stray from the "path" that everything would go as hoped and planned.  This was a time before the grief fellow made his way into our lives, entangling himself in our every action and planting himself firmly in our hearts and minds.

I remember the bliss of the few weeks and days leading up to the death and birth of our sweet boy, and how innocent and stupidly happy I appeared in my "baby bump" pictures. My face was completely different in those photos. It was a fresh and peaceful face that told the story of a soon-to-be mommy of two...a mommy who was completely unaware of just how cruel life could be. How naive of me. I was utterly oblivious to the upcoming squall that would inevitably turn our world upside down.

 

 

I continue to have a constant craving to devote time to a child that I cannot hold in my arms...only my heart.  We strive to include Wyatt in our daily thoughts and conversations and still feel the pang of what could've been... Lyla draws with the color green because, "That's my brother's favorite color." I peek outside each morning in hopes that I will see a quickly spinning pinwheel, which somehow brings me a shot of comfort. Our nightly family prayers always include these sweet and thoughtful, yet painstakingly honest words from the mouth of our five year old, " I want to pray that Wyatt is safe in Heaven with Grandma, that the new baby is safe in Mommy's tummy and that we can keep this one, and that Mommy is safe too." Be still my heart.

However, I wish not to paint a picture of a weak and broken family, by merely stating the facts of our circumstances, because, believe me, we are much better people for loving and knowing our Wyatt.

Together, as a family, and in our marriage,  we have gained an understanding of each other that would not be present otherwise; we are linked with a new strength...a strength that is not found in families who are lucky enough to never have to endure this type of loss.  We have discovered the ever-growing and ever-loving support system of friends, family, and even strangers, that we are forever in debted to for their love, patience, and helping hands. And we have grown to truly appreciate the "little things" in life.

Did you happen to notice that first blue butterfly of the season fluttering by on weak wings? Or that beautiful wild flower that popped up in the middle of a field of weeds? How about how warm and refreshing the sunshine feels as it caresses your winter-laden face? Did you happen to realize the warm feeling that passes through your body as you smell a familiar and memory-filled scent such as homemade biscuits or a farm full of cows? No? That's okay...I didn't use to notice those things often enough either...that is before the line was drawn dividing my life into two distinct sections.


We are eleven months into this journey. Eleven months since we saw our "old" selves. Eleven months closer to seeing our son again.

It has been eleven months since that line was drawn...eleven months of grieving, growing, and living. Take time and smell the flowers and watch the sunset...

10 Month Milestones

Climbing.
Eating all table foods.
Clapping.
Standing.
Blowing kisses.
New babbles.

The list could go on and on. Those are common milestones for a ten month old child. Milestones of our Wyatt that I will never witness. The 25th of February marked ten months since the day that I was forced to hand my baby over, never to hold him again in this world. Ouch.

The empty pages of his baby book haunt me in my dreams. Oh how amazing it would be to create the pen strokes on those pages documenting every uninteresting, yet notable detail of my son's life. Yet, here I am, using keystrokes to document the minimal details of his short life and the never ending saga of unconditional love, heartbreak, and hope that are now ingrained in me.

I wonder what he would be like now. Would he follow me from room to room, perfecting the speed crawl? Would he stubbornly refuse to lay down at nap time or be a sleep- lover like his big sis? Would he already be in need of his very first haircut in order to tame those luscious brown locks? Would he torment his big sister by pursuing her throughout the house and tampering with her belongings every chance he got? Would he longingly reach for Daddy or Mommy when his tummy ached or he crashed while trying to perfect his balance? Would he be shy or outgoing in a room full of unfamiliar faces? Would he throw his food and cup from the highchair while trying to proclaim that he was finished? Would he love being cuddled by all those who love him so very much?

We will never know. Oh how that phrase stings my heart. To live with the constant thoughts and questions is a challenge all in itself. Some days my mind is so busy that the pain seems less real. Some days there are not words to describe the pain and hurt that surface. My grief process seems to have no aim or direction. I've been told that that is normal. Normal, huh? That's a word I don't often associate with my life anymore.

Ten months ago, there was a rip in my soul. The rip is still sore and the pain is still real. I can honestly say that I feel as if the rip has BEGUN to be mended, but this task is not for an unskilled apprentice to complete. I can not mend the tear on my own. And although I want the rip to be repaired quickly, I do not want it to be fixed with faulty, uneven stitches that will not last. With that said, I must trust. Trust that God is slowly, but surely patching up the rip in my soul with beautiful and strong stitches. I trust that when he is finished, whether it be in 1 year or 50 years, the seam of the rip will still be noticeable, but that it will flow smoothly and elegantly with the tapestry of the rest of my life.

The 25th was also a milestone for me in this long process of mending. It was simply another day, another week, another month that I have survived....and I'm doing alright.

Chasing Rainbows

This very time last year I was approximately 29 weeks pregnant with our little boy and anticipating our "perfect" life as a family of four with our princess and prince. And, well, you know the rest of the story...

Currently, a new chapter is beginning in our lives, and we are hoping that this one has a much happier ending than the last. However, this chapter is starting off with more twists, turns, bumps, and tears than the last started with.  As seasoned (much better word than damaged) characters we have been forced to  broaden our senses,  be more leery of our thoughts, and be more careful to think out our actions than in previous chapters of our lives. Our hopes are high, but our expectations are low. 

You see, we have lost our innocence that we once had...that we actually had just last year.

The loss of my innocence is often deafening...screaming out true possibilities and worst nightmares all while I'm working ever so fervently to focus on the positives and live with the passion and love that once was visible from the outside.

I long for the innocence of planning ahead and candidly discussing the future.

I miss the innocence of strolling through the baby aisles of a store and gently stroking a precious newborn outfit while picturing my sweet baby.

I ache for the innocence of thinking that "good things happen to good people" and "bad things happen to bad people"

My chest tightens when I hear of women having baby showers and decorating nurseries for their unborn babies...don't they know it's not promised?! I miss being one of these women. I truly do.

I yearn for the innocence in many things since losing our Wyatt, but today, I miss the innocence in pregnancy the most.

Today I am 25 weeks pregnant with our third child.

This time around has already proven to be very different.  I have been frightened to share our good news for fear of jinxing myself...because I now know that you are not always "safe" once you're out of the first trimester, or the second, for that matter. I have been referred to a maternal and fetal medicine specialist along with my regular OB. I have ten times more visits, ultrasounds, and tests scheduled for this pregnancy. Even though things appear to be going smoothly, I live with the fear of how much could actually go wrong, daily.

I want to be the old me.... I want to be the ME who didn't think twice about baby loss. I want to be the ME that daydreamed about what life would be like after her precious child was born. I want to be the ME who wasn't afraid to prepare a nursery or buy baby items in anticipation of the new little one. I want to be the ME who thoughtlessly uploaded BABY update apps to her phone and so eagerly read them in advance. I want to be the ME who excitedly discussed her pregnancy with other mommy's to be so easily. I want to be the ME who dreaded labor and delivery because of the "pain." HA, that "pain" is no comparison to the pain of burying your child.

I could care less about the nausea, tiredness, back aches, leg cramps, blotchy skin, weight gain, etc. I just want to hold my living, breathing, baby.

Because of my experiences, I am aware of the possibilities. With that said, I am truly trying my best to enjoy every kick, every pound gained, and every heartbeat heard. I am fighting off the anxiety while creating a secret door for the joy to enter and set up camp where it justly belongs.

Minute by minute. Breath by breath.


"Rainbow Babies" is the understanding that the beauty of a rainbow does not negate the ravages of the storm.
When a rainbow appears, it doesn't mean the storm never happened or that the family is not still dealing with its aftermath. What it means is that something beautiful and full of light has appeared in the midst of the darkness and clouds. Storm clouds may still hover but the rainbow provides a counterbalance of color, energy and hope.

Rainbow Pictures

19 weeks

 Baby # 3 @ 14 weeks

Baby # 3 @ almost 19 weeks

Baby # 3 telling Mommy that he/she loves her :)

 

Baby #3 waving (24 weeks)

 

24 weeks (face)

 

baby bump #3 (25 weeks)

 

"I don't care if it's a boy or a girl, I just want a baby."- Big Sister Lyla

 

 

This is where we are...chasing our rainbow.

 

Party Planning

Well, it's that time folks....time for me to plan the 1st birthday celebration of my little boy.

You might be thinking, "What in the world is she talking about?' And you have every right to be wondering, because, no, my son is not physically here to take part in his very own first birthday hoorah, but this momma will take this rare parenting opportunity to honor her son and remember his life on the anniversary of his birth and death.

I won't be needing to buy intense themed decorations, to book a location, to find a birthday outfit for the birthday boy, to plan and prepare elaborate party food and games, or to make sure he has that very special "smash" cake that is the highlight of every infant's transition into the world of toddler hood.

But this celebration will be about HIM, and will be planned to honor his life as well as support a great organization along the way.

So here's the rough plan:

My goal is to host a small balloon release in April at the cemetery where Wyatt is buried. Invites will be sent out closer to the time of the event, but of course, anyone is welcome to attend. Instead of a birthday outfit for the baby, shirts will be designed and ordered ahead of time for everyone to wear on Wyatt's special day.  If you think that you would be interested in purchasing a shirt or shirts email me at kdforgey@gmail.com and I will be sure to send out prices once I have gotten a quote.I am hopeful that family will participate in a few guitar-lead songs including the most important: Happy Birthday. Guests will be encouraged to write messages on their balloons before we all simultaneously release them into the sky and watch them float their way up to Heaven. As a nice treat, cupcakes and/or cookies will be served at the celebration as well. Anyone willing to speak to the group about how Wyatt has touched their lives will be encouraged to do so...and I'm sure this momma will have a few words to share. If you wish to be at the celebration, but are unable to attend, you may send a letter or card to be read aloud or a note to be placed on a balloon as well.

Calling all photographers!! If you are around the Fancy Farm area and would like to be apart of Wyatt's celebration by sharing your photography skills please email me! :)

Now, I mentioned an organization earlier in this entry. Remember those penny jars we've all been working to fill with our found pennies? Well, I have an idea...there's this organization called Molly Bears. It is a nonprofit organization that makes teddy bears of the exact weight of babies for families who have lost babies. I am now on the wait list for my Wyatt bear (it could take up to 14 months). The organization runs completely off of donations and the more money they receive, the more bears they can produce! So, back to the penny jars...in honor of Wyatt's 1st angelversary I wish to provide you with the idea of donating your penny jar collections (or more!!) to the Molly Bears foundation. The organization also accepts donations of (new) teddy bears for their efforts.  Wyatt may not be here to open his own gifts, but can you just imagine the looks on the faces of mothers and fathers as they open a package to find their "Molly" bear?!

Molly Bears Website

Closer to time, I will provide more information on how to do so, but for now, this is all food for thought....so let me know what you think...

An Earthly Loss, but a Heavenly Gain

"Death is a part of life."

I'm not sure how many times I have heard the above statement in my life, but it never seems to make me instantly wipe away my tears and say, "oh, yea, well I guess I should just get on with mine then."

Death may very well be a part of life, but it's usually not a happy part or a part most people enjoy discussing. And it's definitely not a part of life that we welcome into our lives and extend an invitation to, allowing it to take one of our beloved away. However, death is inevitable, and it has once again stolen a piece of my heart.

On the ninth month angelversary of our son, my sweet grandmother left this world and made her way (without a doubt) through those pearly gates of Heaven.

Now I can already hear the thoughts coming through the screen at me about how it is a different type loss because she was "old" and had lived a good life. I will give you that...she lived on this earth for 70 amazing years; 70 years in which she touched countless lives. But my heart still hurts, and my human soul still yearns to hear her voice.  She was a woman of tremendous strength, faith, hope, love, and compassion. She was my "person". You know what I'm talking about if you're lucky enough to have been blessed with a "person."  She never doubted me in all of my 27 short years of life thus far. She always poured her wisdom into my life in the most inconspicuous of ways.  She was my one-stop-shop for questions that ranged from cooking to religion.  She constantly stood as a beacon of hope and love for our family, especially for ME in the last nine months. And now it's up to me not to let her years of influence drift away with my grieve...my grandma's hard work and love WILL shine through.

My grandma was the last person to hold our precious Wyatt's body on this earth, and the first of us to hold him in the kingdom of Heaven. What an angelversary celebration that must've been. You see, just a few days before she passed she made it known to all of the family that we should be jealous of her. With confused looks on our faces, she continued to explain that she was closer than any of us to seeing Wyatt again...and she smiled. Through all of my tears, I am trying to find comfort in her words. I am forced, once again, to try and find the sunshine through the clouds and I am starting to do so by  imagining her, pain free, rocking my sweet boy in her strong arms as the angels sing her favorite hymns.

This world lost a remarkable woman, but Heaven gained a saint, and my little boy now gets to experience her love in all it's glory.