If I Had Son Before Daughter

If I didn’t have my daughter before my son…

I would like to say I would have pulled through.

I would like to say my world wouldn’t have stopped completely and utterly.

I would like to say I would have been strong as I was with my daughter.

I would like to say all of these things and mean it.

… but the hard truth is that I know I wouldn’t.

The fact of the matter is that having my daughter made me be strong, I wouldn’t be strong enough by myself. Having a child depend on you, a little human being that looked to you for comfort and out of need puts your head in the place that you can’t just fall apart. At least for me. I know for some people, it may be different. Those that throw themselves down in anguish, forgetting there’s a child looking at you as you scream and beg in front of them to someone, anyone.

This is how I feel when I think of my son, dead, gone as my creative side let’s go…

My chest tightens, my shoulders go back then shrink together, my head falls a bit and my heart beats faster. My physical heart is fine. My mental heart is struggling, most of the time it is fine, beating, occasionally cursing but thinking of my son dead… it stutters, it shows those tatters and stitches that try to keep it in. It shows bruises and a piece inside that is open and barely visible.

Not having my daughter before my son passed away, my heart would be worse. I would be worse. I’m honestly not sure if I could survive that kind of pain that pierced me, if my relationships could have.

I might not have still been here if it wasn’t for my daughter.

And that’s the hard truth.

I once had a past boyfriend break my heart so completely that I felt like I couldn’t breathe, my heart seemed to beat faster than my breath could keep up. I thought I might suffocate because I couldn’t stop crying enough to catch my breath and I almost didn’t care if I did.

That pain I felt, sharp like a needle in my heart, was nothing compared to losing my son. No, I didn’t almost suffocate. No, I wasn’t on the ground crying and begging for this pain to be gone, but I did feel like a piece of me stopped working. A part of my being, my heart, my soul just vanished as soon as my boy took his last  breath. This pain, no matter how long time passed, wouldn’t go away.

It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

Without my daughter, that pain would have been 10 times worse because I would have become numb and eventually wouldn’t want to feel anything. Wouldn’t care what happened to me, with such a big hole in my heart gone. I wouldn’t know how to move on.

I know this all sounds so dramatic, it’s a “what if” scenario. I don’t know for sure any of this. If I would have been so in despair that I wouldn’t care if I, myself, passed away. I don’t know. What I do know is this: my daughter kept me strong, kept me going, kept me from falling to pieces, my heart stitched together.

I know this was not a happy, positive, we got this post. I wanted to write a story but this came out instead.

Know this though, if you have lost a child or someone close to you, regardless if that is your only child or person, you don’t have to go through it alone. Turn to someone, your partner or parents or friends, anyone. Do not let this depression take you over, drag you down into the depths of darkness where you can’t move. I had lots of support, it’s just my daughter made me stay together the most, there were others.

Who needs you in your life?

Someone does. Everyone has someone, even if you’re sure you don’t, you do. Even if it’s just your pet. Someone does.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255


My little family. ❤

Thank you for keeping through that if you did. Don’t worry, there will be more happy, postivie, DIY, about life posts soon enough! 😀


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.