Thanks Giving

I wanted to thank you all out there for your kind words an responses. I have written so many things for this blog and neglected publishing. I feel like I repeat myself so much. I guess I think life has so much repetition that it sort of makes sense. My logic and justification and faith all running in circles. Maybe I will learn eventually.

Thanksgiving was great. I came home last night feeling on a higher note, on a bit of happiness, I guess. We had a wonderful meal. I love getting into cooking and baking. We enjoyed the company of just a couple family members and a small handful of friends. I thought I would miss my family traditions, but in a way, I suppose we have made a bit of a new family here.

There is so much I have to be thankful for. I can't express how richly blessed our family has been since last November. I truly can say that I have so much gratitude for our little boy. He has been a gift in so many ways. I ache for him, and miss him, but I cannot deny what a powerful force his life has been. He has changes us, caused us to grow. Be more connected through the long hours we spend apart. Phineas was and is a gift. A pure gift.

There is a lot of stress these days, and I worry that it can get the best of me. I just have to keep moving forward. Trying to be better. I have such amazing children. My daughters have just been remarkable. They are sensitive and smart and caring. They are not perfect, but they teach me.

I am so grateful for Nate. He is juggling a lot right now, and I give him so much grief. We have been married for 7 years and I have looked back and thought how crazy it all was for us to meet, get engaged, and marry in such a short time. We have changed a lot, but our love has increased so much more than I thought it ever could.

God has richly blessed us. Though I may not know the end from the beginning, I know that He is there for me. I could not have made it through these last 8 months without Him as my guide. That is the thanks I have to give.

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It's Still Me

I know that this blog has become focused mainly on losing Phineas. I wonder sometimes if it has driven some people away from it. Like maybe I am just harping on about something. I suppose I have a hard time feeling "up to" posting about much else. Weird to put it that way, but it seems a reasonable way to describe it. I am still silly sometimes and I have fun with my daughters, I still love movies and talking about names. It is just colored differently. Here, though, I feel private enough to just spill about how I feel having lost a child. No, that is not who I am, but it is shaping who I become. Things that were once happy become bittersweet, changes often bring anxiety accompanying excitement. I'm still me. I am the same, but different.

Over the course of a few weeks following P's life, I learned about others. Others like me. Others that were more than acquaintances. And I had no idea. Others walking around with that hole in their heart that was missing. They hold their lost ones close, but you would never know by looking at them. I guess part of me wants people to know. Not for the pity, but for the assurance that my child really did exist and I want others to know about him. Just to hear someone speak his name out loud makes me beam.

It's still me. I am still a mother. Now I have three, but only two that I can cuddle, yet even they are getting big for my lap. So for now, this is a place where I can speak his name. Phineas. He is my son.

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Half a Year Away

So it is after midnight, yes, but today marks 6 months since my little boy was born. Not sure why it affected me so much. Every time the 24th rolls around each month, I have a moment, I think, but I got through month marker number five without much trouble. Six months feels so long. I know that the next six will go by so much faster than those that preceded. Changes, so many changes.

I already feel my memory fading. Just today, while looking at a cousin's pictures on Facebook, I stumbled upon a photo of Phineas that I had never noticed before. I am sure my mother-in-law took it and sent it to family over the phone. It ended up on Facebook the day P finished his cold cap therapy. I was sort of taken aback. It was an angle that looked different from other photos we have of him. I felt like it was a revelation, like I was already forgetting what he looked like. I thought that I had memorized everything about the way he looked and felt. I hope that does not fade too much, but I know it will and I will have to rely on photos.

I feel so far from him right now, I wish I were closer. I meant to snag the photo to put with this post, but alas, I cannot find it now. Sort of like my memory, I guess.

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One of those days

Today is the 2nd. It has been 3 months since Phineas passed. So far, his death date has been much easier to handle. His birth date is the one the strikes me down with the remembrance of the awful events that occurred. It is another Friday, three months since that Good Friday. His death was so peaceful and right. Not right, but right in the sense that it was the right decision.

I have been thinking so much lately about some of the things that I felt before he was born. About a prophetic dream I had 3 years before he was born. So many things that lead me to believe that he was never meant to stay.

When I was pregnant with Cordelia, we didn't find out her gender until later in the pregnancy and we both thought that she might be a boy. One night, after we had discussed some names for boys, with Phineas being the front-runner, I had a dream. I will not give all the details as it was a sacred experience for me, but it was profound and oh so correct.

I dreamt I was recovering in the hospital after having a baby boy. One that I hadn't properly seen. There was a flash and that was it. There were people around me and they were discussing his name. That Phineas was the right name, but that John should be his middle name. There was a distinct urging for us to "remember". Then, there was a flash of pain and blood on someone's hand.

And so it was. Despite all my best laid plans. I was going to have a home birth. And yet, he was born in a hospital. I saw merely a glimpse of him as he was wheeled out of the OR. I recovered in a dark room. Flashes of pain and shock. And his name was Phineas John.

Throughout my pregnancy with Phineas, I always had this strange feeling. Like I wasn't really pregnant, that I wouldn't really have a baby. I couldn't bring myself to talk about how he might fit into our daily lives. I couldn't think of it, I could not imagine it. I had a hard time preparing for him, buying clothes and other things felt really strange. Like it didn't matter whether I did it or not. I felt a lot of guilt and shame for these feelings. It wasn't that I didn't love him or want him. I did so very much, but I just couldn't see these things coming to be. I could not explain it. I thought maybe that I was just busy with the girls and overwhelmed by the move and Nate's long work days. I am sure it was not just that now.

We were struck by lightning. His life was so brief and the manner of his delivery was so rare, it feels undeniable that all these things all connect. It was going to happen. It was really meant to be.

After the dream, I thought that by "remember" we were meant to remember an ancestor named John and that Phineas would carry on that name. Now, I am sure that we were supposed to remember our Phineas, the sacred prophetic dream, his sacred name, his sacred life. He has changed us. Improved us. In some ways, I think he saved us. All of these experiences are sacred. I am so glad to have him. I hope that I will continue to remember him and honor his life.

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