Life in the Slow Lane

Dear Harper,

July is just around the corner, and as I sit here, I wonder how it was able to pass so quickly, with the outside world barely noticing. It has been nearly four years since you left us, and that in itself, is ridiculous to think about. It has passed at an incredible rate, and I am still sitting here trying figuring things out.

I don't know that I will ever have everything figured out, most likely not. But what I have taken away from the last four years is this: Slow down and take each moment for what it is, a blessing. You taught me to slow down, and enjoy the little things because those little things are, actually, the really big things.

Life has changed over the course of the last 48 months, people moved, old friends left, new friends joined, a sister was added, birthdays and holidays have come and gone, and I take each moment as it is, a wonderful addition to this crazy thing we call life. How you have reminded me to slow down, to enjoy the walk, and to smell the roses.And, I have to say, those roses smell so sweet.

I think people forget how to slow down. I know they forget to take a breath and relish the moment they are in. They constantly think about the next moment, and where that will take them, wishing the time away as if it were something with an infinite amount to spare. Forgetting to live for now, not worrying about what is to come. To be quite honest, I was one of "those" people. I never had a moment to spare, impatient with everything, but something has happened in the last four years to change that. I walk slower, see clearer and experience everything, even those things I dreaded doing, with a new found enjoyment that comes from slowing life down.

Grief can assume many forms for any given person, it can be a dark and scary place, or it can be an eye opening, uplifting experience. The path in which a griever takes is solely up to them. Four years ago I started walking a very dark and scary path after you died. But, soon I found myself with child again, and the dark and scary path was no longer an option. I spent months in an indifferent state, and then one day it clicked. I could allow the grief I was experiencing to rule every move I ever make, and to overshadow everything that I was to do, or I could do something great with the emptiness and sadness I was feeling.

Four years after the all consuming grief monster came in to consume my soul, I emerged from the battle believing that I am a winner of sorts. IF you can consider coping with loss of your child a win. I slowed down and enjoyed the moments I had here with your brother and sisters. Watching them grow into beautiful young humans, who care. Giving them what they need to be honest, caring, goodhearted people. That is what the world was granted, what I was granted, in your death, a person who cares enough to try and change things. You gifted me a new breath of life, a new person emerged from the chrysalis of death.

I may never have a million dollars to donate to a charity, or the means to make the entire world a better place, BUT, I have the means to make my home a better place, the means to raise good children that will go on to do much greater things. (I have a feeling that they will be unstoppable.) I slowed down...I forget deadlines, I forget what I was supposed to be doing, I am usually late and some consider it a downfall. But the truth is, I forget about things because I am busy...busy having piles of laundry, a kitchen floor that inevitably needs to be swept, and busy playing with my kids. Watching them become these neat little people that have amazing ideas, and BIG dreams. It is worth missing an appointment, or clocking in a couple minutes late to see this. I have become "that" person that makes others on a schedule mad because you can't schedule how life happens.

We make plans, God laughs. I watched as my hopes and dreams fizzled out when you died. I had your whole tiny life planned and God had other plans. His plans are not always clear, but I think this was part of it. I suffered, possibly one of the biggest tragedies anyone can face, in order to become a better person, a better parent. To slow down and take a evening stroll all day long, to never miss those glimpses of the greatness of your brother and sisters. I spend my time trying to find ways to make their eyes glitter, and to make them laugh. I spend my time creating with them, bolstering their imagination and their dreams. I know too well how it feels to have your dreams shattered, and I will do anything to help keep that from happening. Even if it means I am dressing like a fairy princess and trying to fight Captain Hook, or staying up all hours of the night making tiny, tiny Polaroids of the Elf on the Shelf to keep them believing their elves are bad. Because those are the important things.

You taught me to slow down. You taught me to be an incredible fan of random acts of kindness. Smell the roses, then pick one and give it to someone, the smile that ensues is enough to change the world. Dollars in a pocket do not compare to the love in a heart, and my wallet is flat but my heart is full.

Thank you for all you are teaching me, my sweet bean.

I love you always, forever, and then some.

Love,

Mommy

Time does not heal all

Dear Harper,

It has been a while since I have written to you, not because I didn't want to write but because words would get jumbled and I couldn't quite figure out what I wanted to say. These letters I write are important and I don't ever want the message to get lost  in a mess of words.

It has been nearly four years since I had to say hello and goodbye in the same moment. Four years have passed in what feels like the blink of an eye. How has this much time passed since I held you in my arms for the only time, given mere moments to last me a lifetime? That, I cannot answer.

What I can answer is that nearly four years later I am still learning to live without you. Life continues to go on and I have had to learn how to continue on. The piece of my heart that went with you is still missing, but yet I still stand here before the world, breathing, even if only barely some days.

They say time heals all wounds but THIS IS A LIE. Time does not heal a wound that is soul-deep. What time does is teach you how to live WITH it. I have you on my mind all the time, carrying you with me as I walk this path. This journey is not one I would wish upon even my worst enemy because it is the hardest storm I have ever weathered. You learn how to live your life with this big gaping hole that never heals. This becomes your new normal, if normal can even exist in your lexicon. You do go on, but it is with new eyes, fresh lenses that show you what the world is worth, the beauty, sadness, reality and ugliness to it all.

You are no longer naive, you begin to see the ugly truths in the world, hidden amongst the shadows. For me, your sister came along very shortly after you, and this brought on a whole new view of having a baby. I cherished every second that I was pregnant, rarely slept, went completely natural during my pregnancy for fear that something would happen to her too.Everything scared me, made me nervous and I could barely think about anything else.  I couldn't fight that battle twice, I couldn't lose a second time. I was scared the whole time. And when she was born, I was scared because something might happen while I slept...so I never slept at night. I slept when others were keeping a very close eye on her. I don't think I slept a single night her entire first year and now...she's going to be three. Was it my pained vigilance that kept her here? I don't know but I wouldn't change it for a second. There are so many things in my past I would change but not who I was once you were gone.

Here we are, nearly four years later, and I am still learning how to cope, how to breathe, how to live without you. I have been working on ideas for your birthday. I am still promoting those random acts of kindness in your honor. I speak your name louder than ever before, because every time I don't, a little piece of you dies which means a little piece of me dies. And we can't have that. The world will know your name and it will echo on the whispers of the wind.

 I do not let your death define me. I do not let your death occupy all of my emotions and thoughts. I do not let your death control me. While some days are hard, when I realize that I will never think about getting papers together for you to start school, or if you would take ballet with your sisters, I can find a quiet peace in knowing that YOU WERE REAL. Your tiny foot left an imprint so deep no one could forget it. I rejoice in knowing you at all. There is beauty in that. Your death opened my eyes wider and brighter than they have ever been.

Some day, I will understand the pain that has been given to me in your loss. Until then, I keep breathing, keep walking, keep writing, in hopes that I can help someone else that is grieving their child. So they can begin to see that there is beauty in suffering, that GREAT things come from a great loss. You, my sweet bean, are doing greater things than I could have ever imagined.

And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain, when you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. ~Haruki Murakami

I love you darling girl,

I miss you,

Mommy

Do not judge the bereaved mother. She comes in many forms. She is breathing but she is dying. She may look young, but inside she has become ancient. She smiles, but her heart sobs. She walks, she talks, she cooks, she cleans, she works, she IS but she IS NOT, all at once. She is here but part of her is elsewhere for eternity. ~Unknown

Falling into place

Dear Harper,

Today the weather is perfect, it's not too hot and it's not too cold. I have the windows open and the breeze is coursing through the house. It is fall. 

This time of year is my favorite, the colors and the smell of people burning leaves. But it also leaves me with an empty feeling, like something is missing. 

You were due to arrive in the fall. Set amongst gorgeous colors and the scents that I love. Your dark brown hair and peachy skin set amongst the leaves fallen for your first photo session. 

I am reminded that you aren't here to see the wonders of the world as I slide the locks open on the windows and pull them down, letting the fresh air inside. 

I've pulled out all the decorations for our home and started placing them. And I am reminded very much of the place that you have here. Reminded how things can change in the blink of an eye. 

You may not have a room, you may not have boxes full of toys and a closet full of clothes but you're here. You're here coursing through my veins, here holding your brother and sister's hands as they make new strides every day. You are here reminding your dad how amazing he is. 

You are here! In the place you were meant to be. It may not be in my arms for a night time snuggle, or splashing in the bath tub. But you're here, the glue that holds our little piece of crazy together. 

I can't say that it is what I wanted. I can't say that this was my wish for our lives. But, I can say that you've made me a better person and for that I am thankful. 

So, as I drag out all my decorations for this time of year to make autumn inside the house I happily find only the things I love to decorate the mantle for you. All the pieces of life just fall into place. 

I love you sweet bean. 

Love,

Mommy