Today was an intense day. I'm rounding out my first week of "normal" life, and I'm glad it's almost over so I can have Shannon around for the weekend. Will I feel this way at the end of every week??
The days have alternated between hard and not-so-hard. The battery in my almost-new car died the other day (at Target when it was 118 degrees), so that was chaotic, but it was also very nice to be distracted from missing Weston so much. Yesterday I was distracted with trying to plan our upcoming trip and Caroline's third birthday. So I was due for a hard day today.
I dragged Caroline to Starbucks this morning to meet a childhood friend whom I had not seen in years. I have been hearing from childhood friends quite a bit, and it is very comforting to hear from/talk to/see people from a simpler, more carefree time in my life. She and her family gave us a beautiful gift to celebrate Weston.
Getting the mail was quite something today. Thankfully, it came in spurts. First, two packages appeared on the front doorstep. The first was Weston's quilt. Many weeks ago I posted that my sister was going to have a prayer quilt made for Weston. It was going to be draped over his isolette in the NICU to block out the light and the noise so he could sleep and grow; he was literally going to be covered in prayers. Many of you sent squares for the quilt, along with words of hope and encouragement for Weston to stay healthy and keep growing.
I won't sugarcoat it; it was quite difficult to read those notes from a time when we were all so full of hope. But it warms my heart to no end to read the stories behind your squares and see an affirmation of how much Weston matters to so many people. The quilt is so beautiful. I am incredibly, incredibly moved by the love and thoughtfulness that went into it.
There have many moments this week of which I am not proud, particularly parenting moments. This afternoon I had another. I gave Caroline a grape popsicle after her nap. Then the quilt came. You already know where this is going, don't you? Caroline was sitting in my lap. When the inevitable dropping of the popsicle on the quilt happened, I jumped up, displaced her from my lap, yelled a four-letter word, and ran off to the kitchen with the quilt to blot out the stain. Meanwhile, Caroline was stuck in the home office with a popsicle piece in her hand, screaming that it hurts because it's cold. I'm pretty sure she was referring to my cold heart, not her cold hand.
About the quilt, the stain mostly came out. I'm telling myself that Weston would have trashed it anyway, and I'd rather have a quilt worn out by love and use. To a point. About Caroline, well, I really need to get it together for her.
We ordered various keepsake urns for Weston's ashes. The second box on the doorstep held a teddy bear for Caroline. We will put some of Weston's ashes in it; it is a blue teddy bear with angel wings and, Shannon thinks, creepy eyes. I hope she is not too disappointed when we don't let her play with it!
The third piece of mail (from the mailbox) held my cremation necklace with Weston's initials engraved on it. No, I did not go crazy and get the marijuana leaf. I am going to take the bear and the necklace to the funeral home tomorrow to put the ashes inside. The third urn will take several weeks, so we won't have it for a while. I am so looking forward to having Weston literally close to my heart and with me all the time.
The final piece of mail was notification of a donation in Weston's memory that is quite moving. I can't say anything more about it to respect the privacy of those involved, but I continue to be in awe of the way that Weston is touching lives.
Tonight was...my first support group meeting. It was specifically for parents who have lost children: a horrible club to join. The angel babies/children range in age from more premature than Weston to mid-20s, and the losses occurred from less than three weeks ago (Weston) to ten years ago. The first thing I noticed when I walked in the room (after I had broken down in the lobby) was two women laughing together. I was so relieved to see that I will laugh again. It was so helpful to hear from people who have been there. We cried together, laughed together (yep, I guess I can laugh already), and commiserated together. Although I could barely get the words out, I told the story of Weston's death in greater detail than I had in a while, maybe since this post: http://www.thedividedlife.blogspot.com/2012/07/broken-hearts.html.
Importantly, this nonprofit has resources to help parents with their surviving children. Although Caroline is too young to really understand what happened, and probably too young to remember Weston, she will benefit from this group when she gets a little older. In the meantime, I can learn how to be there for her. I love her beyond measure, and it kills me to know I'm not being the mom she needs right now. I am very eager to learn more about this particular challenge in the grieving process.
Weston lived for such a short time. Many people, including family members, did not get to meet him. My biggest fear is that he will not be remembered, or that his importance will be diminished somehow, in time. I am known as Caroline's mom to the world, but, as someone said tonight, in this group I will always be known as Weston's mom as well. I took a lot of comfort in that statement, and I will hold fast to it, one moment at a time.
No comments:
Post a Comment