Thank You!

My cousin and new cousin-in-law were so very thoughtful in including Payton in their wedding. Following the ceremony was a butterfly release to honor and remember Payton. Dustin and I are so touched. Words can not express how grateful we are. I want to thank them. I love you both!

As I write this another cousin (I have many cousins) sent me a picture text of a butterfly that visited her at work today. Thank you!

Brief Relocation Therapy and Diseased

After Retail Therapy and Makeover Therapy failed to help me feel better about my daughter dying, it was time to try Brief Relocation Therapy.

Yesterday we returned from our Florida trip. We went to Ft. Lauderdale in July (not our idea- too darn hot and humid) for my cousin’s wedding and a last minute BBQ/Reunion. The timing was terrible. We flew out the day after Payton's six-month angleversary and flew home the day after burying our daughter six months prior. As poor as the timing was, it was important to be at my cousin’s wedding. She has been one of the most supportive persons.

The trip started off awful. During the drive to the airport I was consumed with thoughts of Payton. We should be traveling with TWO children, not one. We should be the family other passengers pray he/she does not sit near. More than once I thought I cannot leave my daughter buried in Colorado while we go to Florida. What if something happened and we could not get back to her?

At the airport we had to purchase Dustin another ticket because he left his paper ticket at home, oh I was happy. The airport was littered with babies. Every baby we past I prayed he/she would not be on the same flight. There were three, that I counted, babies on our plane. Once in Ft. Lauderdale we realized we forgot Tatum’s car seat. Not a huge issue, we rented one but it was another hassle to an already stressed day.

Later that evening it was heartbreaking to see another cousin with her three children. I do not want to judge, but she is 24yo and does not seem to care about them. Her mother raises the children. She only communicates with her children by yelling at them. Why does she get to have three children she does not want and I cannot have both the children I want? I could not bare to be around her the rest of the trip. I love her but...

Then came the wedding. I was not prepared for the wedding triggers. Seeing the father walk the bride down the aisle. Hearing the Maid of Honor’s speech in which she talked about what a wonderful sister the bride is. Watching the Father-Daughter dance. All of it was hard to witness, but I really lost it when the bride and mother danced together. I walked out of the reception and hid in the restroom. I kept thinking Payton will never experience these moment. Dustin, Tatum, nor I will ever experience these moments with her. My heart hurt.

At the BBQ/Reunion a few family members acted as if nothing had changed. Perhaps they forgot our daughter died? However, most avoided Dustin and I. It was like we are diseased and contagious. People seemed afraid to talk to us or stand too close for fear their child would die too. One cousin made an inappropriate comment. I let him know his comment hurt. He immediately apologized to Dustin and myself. One aunt made a few uncomforting statements, “You have so much to be thankful for. You have a beautiful daughter and a man who loves you”. Yes, but I should have more to be thankful for.

We also met up with two childhood friends, separately. I have known both women since elementary school, and yet they were uncomfortable being around me.

As for the rest of the trip: Payton was always on my mind but.. Maybe the change of scenery? Maybe because there were FEW babies (seriously I cannot believe how many less babies there are in south Florida. I might consider permanent Relocation Therapy)? Maybe the ocean’s calming effect? Maybe the time spent with loving and supportive family? Maybe because it was the first time in months we allowed ourselves as a family to have fun? What ever the reason, the rest of the trip was good.

Returning was difficult. Stepping off the plane and into Denver airport, everywhere we turned were babies. Everywhere! At home I saw our neighbor in her backyard playing with her two older children. She is not pregnant any more. Guess she had her baby and all is well.

Despite my anxieties the trip went okay. I had several breakdowns but that is to be expected, right? I am proud of the way I stood up for myself by addressing my cousin and aunt. In the past I would have been upset but walked away without saying a word. I wish people did not view us as diseased. I wish people were not so uncomfortable around us. Yet, I know I cannot change their comfort levels. I can only walk this journey being honest with how I feel. The last two lines from a poem, Don’t Tell Me rings through my head;

“Friend please realize that I can never be the same,

But if you stand by me, you may like the new person I become someday”.

How very true!

Dear Payton

My dear sweet little girl,

There is so much I want to say but cannot find the right words.
I want to tell you how much you are loved. Your father and I loved you from the moment we knew you were growing inside my womb. We were so excited you would be apart of our family. We had so many dreams of who you would become. We could not wait to meet you. I am so sorry you could not come home with us or meet your big sister. Although not in the way we planned, you are and always will be apart of our family.
I miss you so much. Not a moment goes by that I am not thinking of you or of what you would be doing. Not a moment goes by that I do not wish I could hold you in my arms or see your beautiful face. Your dad and sister also miss you. This morning, on your six-month angelversary, I said to Tatum, “You are so gentle with your kitty. You must love your kitty?” She answered, “Yes. Daddy, mommy too. Baby Pay too”. I know you were with us. I know you are always with us. I know you send little reminders not to forget you. We could never forget you, our beautiful baby girl.
I cannot wait until we can all be together again. Until then we will continue loving and missing you.
Loving you always,
Mommy

Less Than Comforting

There are days when the constant reminders are comforting. Then there are days when the reminders are less than comforting. Today is one of those days.

Today is my preparing for our Florida trip day; washing laundry, packing, and shopping for snacks and activities to keep Tatum busy on the four-hour flight. The store was full of reminders, everywhere. The book section with books entitled "The New Baby" and "Sisters". The clothing department with a "Little Sister" t-shirt. The electronic department with TV commercials featuring babies. Throughout the store were groups of sisters.

My heart was already hurting. My brain already filled with thoughts of Payton. She should be traveling with us. I should be worried about how to keep a five-month old happy during the flight. I should be excited to introduce Payton and Tatum to extended family members. Instead, I am dreading seeing many family members I have not seen since before losing Payton. In the store, I threw back my head and said, "Please not today". Thankfully, the reminders ended, at least until bedtime. Tatum insisted on wearing her butterfly pj's.

The Ride

Life after losing a baby is like being trapped on a roller coaster, a grief coaster. One tragic day a ticket is unexpectedly shoved into your hand. You are immediately ushered into the theme park, past the lines, and strapped into a car; it all happens so fast you are unable to process what is happening or to refuse the ticket.

Before you know it, the train starts slowly. Your stomach tingles with fear of the unknown; yet you put on a brave face. The track is rickety. The car bumps about making your head dizzy and you are unable to think clearly. Suddenly the train accelerates and the upward trek begins. On the incline, there is a little dip; you think, ‘phew that’s it’, but the car speeds up, climbing higher. You realize the ride is far from over.

As you accept the only way off is to finish the ride, the car stops at the top. You look down to see others waiting in line, they look like tiny ants. You know they cannot help you. You are alone on this ride and the track seems never ending. You brace yourself as the car drops, plummeting full speed to a dark seemingly bottomless pit, leaving your stomach behind. You open your mouth to scream to the people below to run but something is caught in your throat, the only sound that comes out is a sob. You feel wet drops on your face and fear you will never survive this ride.

As you head toward the pit, a surprise, several twists and turns. Then the ride abruptly stops and you think ‘oh thank goodness’. You feel a little giddy knowing you survived. You anxiously wait to exit onto the loading platform when the ride begins again.

Although, Dustin and I (and other parents who have lost a baby) are on the “big kid ride”, we are on different rides, with different drops, twists, and turns, with different start times. Some family and friend are on the “kiddie ride”, which in relatively flat with a few small dips. Other family and friends have decided to wait outside the gates, not entering the park at all.

Some times the ride lasts a day, other times it lasts a week. Occasionally, the ride changes; new drops, new twists, new turns. The only consistency is the ride repeats with no end in sight.

I have been on this ride for 5 months and 4 weeks. I want off! I do not want to be a passenger! I want to rip up the ticket and throw it back at the person who shoved it in my hand. I do not want to be in the baby loss theme park! I want back my ignorance that such a ride and park exists. (Not sure why I'm into metaphors these days.)

Baggage

I have a reoccurring dream, in which I am trying to pull luggage, but the bag is overflowing, items falling out, wheels broken, and too heavy to carry. The dream makes me think, everyone carries baggage. For adults baggage might include family, upbringing, hereditary traits, lost loves, successes, and failures. Our baggage influences our thoughts and decisions, consciously and subconsciously.

Sadly, my baggage now includes baby loss. I find myself looking at people and wondering what bags he/she is carrying. Is her bag a light carry-on, full of baby dreams and potential? I hate to admit but I do not like people with carry-ons. It is easier to think people’s bags are as full as mine, as heavy as mine. Did she lose a baby? Did his wife died? Is he caring for his dying mother? Are there days when the baggage is so cumbersome it cannot be carried or pulled?

I wish there was a way to know what each person is carrying, a sign of sort. Maybe t-shirts so strangers know and others do not forget.

How about:

“Please be kind, My baby I can’t find”. No, it sounds like my baby is misplaced.
“My baby died, Your baby please hide”
“My baby died, Don’t be snide”
“My baby died, My grief not denied”
“My baby is dead, Use your head”
or for one person; “My baby died, Yourself set aside”.

I could go on an on. New career, I found.

Expecting Too Much?

Am I expecting too much ?

Is it too much to expect one person not make my daughter's death about her and how she is affected? Is it too much to expect others not buy into the crap and realize my daughter's death is not about this one person? Am I expecting too much that my daughter's death be about oh, I don't know, Payton?

Is it too much to expect a heads-up a coworker (not even apart of the team) is bringing her baby to team meeting? Is it expecting too much that babies not be at work meetings? Is it too much to expect an apology from the coworker (she suffered her own loses) who scheduled the meeting, more than, "Oh. Oh, ok."? Am I expecting too much from therapists to be more empathetic than the clueless pregnant 21-year-old with her three children in the grocery store?

Another Day

A year ago, we excitedly celebrated the Fourth of July anticipating this year we'd be holding our little Spud. This is one of the few pictures of all four of us. One of the few pictures of me pregnant. I'm usually the person taking the pictures, not in them. I was 5 weeks and 5 days pregnant.

Instead this year is merely another day, another difficult day without Payton. I love how each Sunday our church sermon is meaningful to our lives. However, some days it is hard to praise the Lord knowing He allowed Payton to be taken from us and it feels like now He isn't listening to my prayers. Today was hard.

Already feeling sad and defeated, Dustin's aunt came over with a Whispering Bear for Tatum. It was thoughtful. I love when people remember Payton. Nonetheless, during the conversation she eluted to Payton's death being my fault because of my family’s history (my sister died of SIDS and my nephew died due to a heart defect). Even though every moment of everyday I blame myself, hearing Dustin's aunt say those words was like salt in the raw wound. I want to crawl into bed and stay there forever.