Enegeric Kid, Glue Crafts, and random.

Hello world.

Last night, I’m not sure what I would like to write but I want to write something. It could just be the Monster I had earlier in the day but I felt almost restless. As if I need to do something but I couldnt figure out what. I kept going back to the fridge, as if I was hungry but nothing fit my craving. Pacing the floor was something I felt I could’ve done if my body didnt suddenly feel like it ached. Plus, I had already ran around the house like a maniac playing with my bundle of energy of a daughter.

Kids have so much energy. I wish it would rub off. If I had even a fraction of it I’d be doing the household chores every day – like I guess I should be doing. Though if I were to be honest, if we exercised more I’d have more energy. Speaking of which…

I have my mind set on starting to hike with my family. We need hiking boots/shoes and good water bottles (or water bladders with a bag) to do so. In the summer itd be brutal but the winter and fall should be ok. Its important to me – to us (meaning fiance and I) that we start doing this. It is for our health (including our daughter’s) and so we have experience in walking around in that environment. Its different than walking around on the streets.

I’ve also gotten into crafts with a glue gun! Which, I admit, I’m excited about. Already made a necklace and bracelet out of it, as well as a 3D butterfly! Pictures attached. I’m thinking about getting some felt and trying at making small pillows or stuff animals. We will see! 😀

Thats my update for now. Thanks for reading. 🙂


Keeping All Your Memory With Me

Why is it when I feel sad my heart goes to you? Why does my heart feel heavy and yet light when I think of you? I think I’m letting go of this pain but then I realize it’s not gone, it’s hidden under layers of happiness and determination. It never went away and it never will.

I suppose that is fine, that it won’t go away. It reminds me you were real and not some past dream. That I actually held you in my arms and watched you breath, felt that heaviness against my arms and the warmth. But… I will never hold you again. And it hurts over and over again. They say God took you for a good reason and I try to believe it but that missing piece in my heart says otherwise. I stay strong most of the time but from time to time I’ll hear a song or see an emotional video or action and I feel the tears coming.

I can’t believe it has been three years when it feels like just last week I was sitting at your memorial. Just a few months ago that I felt you kicking my stomach and how strong you felt to me. How much hope I had that you would be that rare percentage that would survive.

I can’t let go of this pain when I think of you because it reminds me you were real and not a distance dream. It reminds me that I had a son who I made the decision to keep despite the doctors reactions. I’ll keep the sadness inside me but also the joy of you. I’ll keep every part of your memory with me, despite the way I feel at times because you are my  baby boy. My son who, despite the odds, came to life and I got to hold if only for a little. I’ll keep all the memory because it is mine and yours, every bit will be precious. I’ll keep everything.

My heart goes to you when I feel even a little bit sad because you are my baby boy, my son, who passed away in my arms three short years ago. My heart feels heavy because your memory tugs at the empty piece inside me. My heart feels light because your memory fills the emptiness within me.

I love you my precious baby boy Wyatt, my little angel.

People Say I’m Strong…

People say that I am strong.

I have lost a child. It hurt more than I have ever felt with any heartbreak. I have been told more than a few times that I was strong. But here’s a secret…

I don’t feel strong. Should I feel strong? I feel normal, like I am any other person. What makes me strong? Perhaps because I didn’t have mental break down at the memorial service for my son and I am not in a deep depression that which leads people to call me strong. I have a daughter, she needs me so I don’t break down in front of her. I thought that would be the natural thing to do, not to break down so completely.

There was a scene in this book I had once read years ago where the main character was attending a funeral and the wife of the man that died had a mental breakdown. She threw herself at the casket and started to scream and people had to literally drag her from it. That same woman had a really young daughter there who saw it all. The main character approached the woman, told her she needed to get it together because her daughter needed her. She could break down later. That stuck with me. It was a small scene that didn’t really develop the plot of the story itself but it kept in my mind more than any other.

Here’s another question, was I strong before my experience of losing a child? Did it just make me stronger? Or did it make me strong? What makes someone not strong? How strong am I? Is everyone strong just in their own way? Goodness, so many questions that almost make me sound concided but these are the ones going through my mind.

I want to be strong. I have a daughter and I want to see her mommy is strong, not just physically but in that other way. But I don’t feel that kind of strong that people like to call me.

If I was really strong, wouldn’t I be doing more than? Looking at my life, things are going good. I mean, we are getting buying a house now and my fiance and I are only twenty-four years old. That is good. But, I’m just here along for the ride it seems. I wish I could light a fire under my own butt. Really, I am the only one that could make myself do anything.

So, once again, I wonder… how am I strong? I feel so normal. I still cry for my son. I crack under pressure at times. I yell at my daughter in frustration of her actions still. I don’t do it all the time of course, but if you are a parent I think you understand what I mean. Always, I wanted to make a difference in something but I am just sitting. Maybe I’m waiting for something to settle.

What a rant this has become.

I know I am strong in a way but sometimes I question the how and why.

Untold Story: The Hours After Wyatt’s Birth

It has been two and a half years since our dear boy Wyatt passed away. It doesn’t seem like that long ago that I had held him in my arms and watched my mom and dad do the same, my mother-in-law and sister-in-law as well. My fiance held him close, with a smile of what seemed like joy but sadness.

I remember those hours well.

With little but a wink of sleep under my belt because I just didn’t want to fall asleep, labor set in. Perhaps unconsciously I was feeling if I did things would come too quickly, Wyatt would come and he could pass away. I was afraid of that time. I didn’t want to be alone either. I was afraid. I didn’t fall asleep like most people had suggested to me. I wish I had fallen asleep well before I felt that pressure between my legs. I was terribly tired when Wyatt came into this world.

My eyes could barely hold open at times and I knew time was fading for him and I kicked myself for not having more sleep. I held in my arms, he felt heavy and didn’t seem sick but besides that I was afraid to kiss him. Afraid it would hurt him somehow. There is so much in this world I would give to have given him so many kisses and told him a thousand times how much I loved him so he could hear me. Although, I’m sure, he heard it over and over when I told him in my tummy. I remember seeing him blue when he first came out but he seemed to get back color. I had hope at that time.

He was passed around to the visiting family members, one by one they gave him kisses and hugs and whispered to him. At some point he started to make a sound like he was trying to breathe on his own and there was more hope in me that perhaps he would be that miracle to survive. When my dad held him it seemed he tried even harder. We all saw that.

I remember when the nurses asked if we wanted them to take him away to bathe him but I didn’t want him to leave. What if he passed away during that time? I wanted to spend every minute, every second with him. I wanted him around the people that loved him the most. Sometimes I wish they had bathed him. He wouldn’t be a chalky white in the pictures. We would see how his skin color was underneath that all.

About three hours after he was born he passed away in someone’s arms. I’m not hundred percent in who’s arms. He stopped making those sounds. The doctor came in and checked him and announced he did pass away. They asked if they wanted them to take him away but we opted for more time with him.

Yes, his soul had passed on but I don’t think any of us was ready just yet to let him go. So, my fiance and mother-in-law changed him into a onsie we had brought with us and then bundled him up in a blanket his Nana (mother-in-law of mine) made him. Cigarette breaks were had and my dad stayed with me and Wyatt. I held Wyatt but I noticed I couldn’t hold him for too long because I knew he had passed away but yet… he seemed like he was only sleeping.

Later, the nurses asked if we wanted pictures taken of him at no charge of course. We agreed and they carefully took him away to take pictures of him. I did wish we did the pictures before… he had passed but I don’t think I would be able to let him go even if they did bring that option up. They even cut a lock of his hair for us and put it into a baggy, unfortunately that little snip of hair has spread out so it no longer looks like a lock of hair but just a few strands. It was in a bag with tiny holes, so perhaps that is why. I remember what his hair looked like though… it was a strawberry brownish color. Definitely more reddish than his sister (though hers was just brown not red at all). I’ve always wondered how it would turn out in the end if he had… grown up more.

Eventually, it was time to let him go. We signed some forms to release him and to our surprise the people that took him held him in their arms walking out. We thought they would bring in a bed they have for the infants, not walk with him in their arms. I was thankful for that. My dad followed them out.

It was done. He was gone. I was moved to a different room and the nurses put a rose on our door to indicate we had lost our child (after they asked us, of course). This was so people wouldn’t ask how our baby was doing or come in too often, I suppose. I was thankful for that. The staff were very gracious and helpful. During the process where they took pictures they also did hand prints. He had an extra finger off to the side, you could see it in there but we were OK with that. That was him. That was our baby boy, Wyatt’s hand prints.

Even after all this time, I still sit and cry for him. I miss him. I wish so many things. I’m sure well into the future I will still do this. He is a part of my heart that is missing and that will never change.

Thank you for reading my story and if you are someone who had lost a child of your own, keep strong. The only reason I kept so strong in the beginning (and now) is mostly because of my daughter Neveah, she needed me still. It was also due to the remarkable support I was given from friends, family and even acquaintances.

How To Keep Blogging…?

I made this blog because, at the time, it seemed so easy and fun. A blog about being a mom and finding myself? How easy is this going to be! I got loads to say…


Sure, I do have lots to say but how to say it? I don’t want to bore anyone. I tend to write more than I should (my opinion). What exactly should I write about? Every day is the same and there is small things that are not the same. I usually post those small things on Facebook. Share a memory or a little accomplishment.

So, a quick turn of topic, I love Pinterest (this is going to tie in, promise). I’m on it a lot, pinning and searching. It’s my search engine now. I want to cook something but need to know how? Pinterest! I want to do a new activity that is creative and fun with my little girl? Pinterest! I’m bored? Pinterest! You get the point. I was on it one day and saw a writing prompt. It was interesting. I use to write a lot when I was younger. I had an idea! Writing prompts for blogging! Very interesting.

In short, I am thinking about using these prompts to help me blog. I really want to continue blogging, even if it is just once a month. I want to keep this active. Now, I just need the encouragement to post more and some support! Sounds odd, I need support to blog but it is true. I confess. But, some time I will do another post from a prompt.

So, whoever happens on this, let’s get started…

Growing Up So Fast!

Neveah is growing up so fast it seems. If she wasn’t growing up, though, that’d be a cause for alert. I did this thing where I tell her to listen, putting my fingers behind my ear. She does that sometimes now. It’s so cute! She also says goodnight pretty clearly. She is saying sentences already. Oh, get this, she learned how to open doors. I’m pretty sure she figured out how to get out of her play pin that is her bed. I say this because I put her in her bed once because she was misbehaving and next thing you know I heard a sound and glance over and see her. She’s just smiling wide, being as cute as can be and here I am wondering… how? She has not done it since though.

I’ve got this idea, taking the beans (dry beans) that we never use and using them. I mean, put them in this bucket thing we got and let her use her shovel and scoop them into the smaller bucket. Sounds like fun, well for her. I’m not sure how exactly to make that more educational… I’m sure there’s a way but I’m just not coming up with something. Any ideas folks?

I’m still trying to potty train her. She doesn’t always like to come to the bathroom and sit on her toilet. She’ll ‘like’ doing it if she has something to distract her like her tablet. She has yet to go pee or poop into it. I’m still waiting for that shining moment. I feel like I should just move onto underwear already. I just see many messes coming from that… omg. I just want to wait till she DOES goes pee or poop into it so I can be like all excited and reward her with this chart thing I have and stickers and maybe she’ll be more… willing to sit on it.

We still got a bedtime routine going. It’ll be time for bed, it either goes with telling daddy goodnight, brush teeth, change into ‘nighty night’ diaper and then lay down or she tells her daddy goodnight after she brushes her teeth. It’s to the point where I’ll say night night time, she’ll go to the bathroom knowing what to do next. Course, sometimes she’ll hear me say that and go over to her dad, kind of hang around him pretending to say goodnight when she really doesn’t want to go to sleep.

Ah. Children.

It’s all about patience and being willing to spend your time and effort into educational stuff and not just let them be entertained by television. To play with them and give them what they need but not what they always want.

Raising a Child Isn’t Suppose to Be Easy

My daughter is going to be two in October. My son would have been one in December. I don’t know if we’ll do anything for his birthday. I mean, shouldn’t we? But what? He is gone from this Earth. It hurts to say. It feels harsh to say it like that but it is true. I’m not sure what we would do. For our daughter, we’ll do a birthday as usual. Not sure where but we already bought her birthday gifts.

I was, well both Charles and I were hoping that our daughter would be potty trained by two years old. She is not. She knows to sit on the toilet when we go to the bathroom, to wipe, and throw it into the toilet and flush. She hasn’t yet actually sat on the toilet and went pee or poop. I think this is my fault that she is not potty trained yet. I only take her to the bathroom when I need to pee or when she needs to be changed. In reality, it probably should be more often. Maybe every two hours. I was going to do that but I forget throughout the day. I guess I should set alarms for such a thing.

Raising a child is no easy task.

I read an article online talking that if you do something for your child because it is more easy than letting them do it causes more harm than good. For example, instead of waiting for your child to clean up their mess you do it for them. That’s a no-no. Makes sense. If she makes a mess, it sits there till I clean it up when she’s fast asleep in bed. I’m trying not to do that anymore. When it’s time for bed, I get her to clean up her mess with a little song of let’s clean, time to clean… or something. I’ll remember the song when it’s time to actually clean up. My teacher for motherhood classes actually sung that when it was time to leave and Neveah had to clean up the toys she was playing with. It worked, so I started doing it.

I remind myself that being a parent, raising a child is not meant to be easy. It can be hard, sometimes heartbreaking, but certainly rewarding. That’s why I would read books to her even before she could sit up because I read that it would help with development. I still read books to hear. She’ll bring a book up to me to read and I’ll read it, but sometimes I don’t get through it because she gets distracted and wanders off. But, that’s what kids do. They get distracted easily and sometimes you gotta do things in doses.

I’m still adjusting to having a child, I’ll admit. We listen to a lot of music on youtube (yay smartTV) and when I have to clean or want a little time for myself without her constantly wanting me to set her on my lap I put on some kid-friendly learning videos on youtube. I know, I know tv time isn’t the best. We dance too, lol. We also go into her room and play. She likes to put me to ‘night night’. It’s amazing how much she soaks up. When I put her to bed, I lay her in her bed and when she tries to get and play I gently push her back down and tell her it’s time to go night night. She does the same to me when I try to sit up. She tells me ‘night night!’ and tries to push my head down to the ground or pillow. Yesterday, she tried to actually pick me up by putting her little hand underneath my leg and my back. Didn’t work of course, but I was delightfully surprised – I guess you could say.

I gotta work on disciplining her. I see a pattern of her not listening to me and I don’t like it. You see, I let things slip and only raise my voice after I’ve said something a few times. Sometimes she’ll listen to me, sometimes she’ll ignore me until I’m walking over there and dragging her away from whatever she was doing wrong. I just don’t like to hear her high pitched crying (but what parent does?) so I try to avoid making that happen (sometimes without even thinking). But I need to her to listen to me, not only because it’ll keep me losing my temper but also cause if we’re somewhere where she could get hurt (like by a busy road in a park) I need to her to listen to me. There are other reasons of course, but you know those.

Sometimes I feel like I’m not doing my best as a mother, but I’m sure a lot of others feel the same way. Sometimes I just don’t want to do anything so we don’t really do anything. I get tired, despite being a stay-at-home mom. But, I try to interact with her and teach her. I’m still adjusting, I suppose. But raising a child isn’t suppose to be easy. If it’s easy, I think you might be doing something wrong. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it is easy, for those few minutes, but most of the time you gotta, you know, try at it.

I’m still trying and I will always be trying and bettering myself as a parent. I’m not ready for the years to come when she is a pre-teen or even when she’s four years old but I’ll always be trying as a parent. Sometimes all we can say is that we’ll try because we don’t have the experience of being a parent. You know?