Recap

It is New Year's Eve, so it's time for a 2013 retrospective and a look forward. It was our first full calendar year without Weston, and ringing in 2014 takes us a full year farther removed from him. However, it also brings us closer to seeing him again. Maybe I wouldn't have added that last sentence last New Year's Eve, which means there were some positive changes in 2013.

First, the obvious: none of my children died in 2013. Having another year on this planet with my child(ren) is the greatest gift, and it has happened almost every year. As time goes on, it takes less and less to make me happy. I, for one, think that's a good thing.

My surviving family is healthy (except for Caroline's dairy allergy, which gave us all a good scare a couple of weeks ago). After bed rest, surgery, and the havoc grief wreaked on me physically, my body powered me through one of my faster half marathons in 2013.

Our family vacation to Colorado ended up being more of a spiritual pilgrimage, and I made peace with God there soon after Weston's first birthday. Grief has made me braver/more selfish/more open/more impulsive, depending on your perspective, and I recently made a major decision regarding church. It is really the culmination of almost twenty years of internal wrestling with various spiritual/religious issues, and Weston's death was the last straw that has inspired me to make this change. Only a very few people know about it, and I'd rather the rest of my loved ones not discover the details via a blog post, so I need to have several conversations before I talk about it here.

I am still angry a lot. However, I think I'm a little better at cutting slack to those who say the wrong thing. I try to look below the surface of the behavior now, and I truly realize that no one is trying to hurt me when they say the wrong thing about Weston or his death. Saying something, however wrong, means they care and are thinking of him. With that being said, though, I am still incredibly hurt, and sometimes very angry, when people deliberately ignore his existence. Only time will tell if that particular hurt will ever go away.

Speaking of anger, I will always be angry that children die. It is utterly unfair. I will never try to explain it away.

I read 38 books in 2013. The ones that affected me the most (in order of finishing) are:

Simplicity Parenting, by Kim John Payne, M.Ed.

The Divine Conspiracy, by Dallas Willard

Flannery O'Connor Spiritual Writings, edited by Robert Ellsberg

Flight Behavior, by Barbara Kingsolver

Middlemarch, by George Eliot

The Faithful Gardener, by Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Mere Christianity, by C.S. Lewis (a reread)

You may be wondering why in the world I would even mention the books I read. I am obsessed with books, and I mainly have my parents to thank for that. Getting an English degree helped too. People find inspiration in various places, and I tend to find it in the written word, among other places.

I didn't read as many grief books in 2013; I read most of those in 2012. There are many more on my list, but a huge part of my grief in 2013 was figuring out how God fit into it, so that's where my reading tended to go. I am part of many groups for baby and child loss, so I found plenty of resources and support in those places.

In the couple of months following Weston's death, I thought I would become very interested in prematurity prevention, NICU support, etc. I did, and I am, but my heart truly lies with my fellow parents who have lost children, at any age, in any way. No matter how much improvement continues in the area of prematurity prevention and care, babies will still die. I have more opportunities now to help on that front. My loss of Weston still looms larger than anything else (in other words, I'm not ready to be a mentor to other parents yet), but I have found that sharing his story with professionals (medical, social workers, counselors, chaplains, etc.) helps them do their incredibly difficult and rewarding jobs even better.

I continue to work through my grief every day (or ignore it until I explode), but some things do not change. Little boys still tug at my heartstrings. I miss Weston all the time. With another year having gone by, I thought the holidays might be a little easier this year; they weren't. They were excruciating, in fact. There wasn't a lot anyone could or should have done to make them better, short of bringing Weston back. Last year, we were in shock and on autopilot. This year, the reality that he is GONE punched me in the face. Subconsciously, it's probably one reason we didn't do Christmas cards this year (no, you were not left off the list!).

Caroline continues to light up my life. She makes it possible for joy to coexist with the grief. As time goes on, she talks about Weston more and more. She misses him. Certain horrible memories are firmly implanted in her head. She is asking more questions, about Weston and her own mortality. Especially after losing Weston, I can't assure her that Daddy and I are not going to die, etc.; I just have to reassure her that it's unlikely to happen soon.

I have a hard time lying to her, no matter what. In other words, there was a lot of stuttering around about Santa; poor kid. I wish I could lighten up.

Unlike last year, I am feeling positive about 2014, starting with tomorrow (Sic 'em Bears!). I'll be at the Fiesta Bowl, but my favorite thing about Baylor being so awesome at football is the dear friends it is bringing to my city.

On Saturday I embark on the trip of a lifetime to Armenia to see my sister's labor of love for the past ten years and meet the beautiful people she helps via her nonprofit organization. I am excited, scared, hopeful that my presence makes even the slightest positive difference, anxious, sad about leaving Caroline, etc., but I know the trip is the right thing at the right time.

And I have to say, I'm not completely abandoning my family: we are going to rendezvous in Europe for a week on the way home. Caroline is old enough to enjoy herself and remember the trip, and Shannon gets to see the country of his ancestry. I am nervous about the dairy allergy, though; it's pretty hard to avoid dairy in Europe. First world problems...

2013 made me comfortable with my grief and more aware of suffering in general. I will never be thankful that Weston died, but I am thankful that he was here on this earth, and I am thankful that he is my son. I wish he was around to cry and wake up at midnight, so we could ring in the new year together.

Weston, I hope I make you proud in 2014.