A Vivid Memory

I'll never forget flinging back the covers, jumping out of bed...running...he's holding Eli's limp body in his arms, pushes him into my arms and tells me to do CPR. I feel frozen. He's calling 911. I'm doing chest compressions. Breathing into his mouth. Water coming out of his mouth, fluid out of his nose. "That's it baby, get it out. It's gonna be okay." Cheeks turning blue and purple, his tiny gums are blue. The breath coming back out of him smells bad. Nothing's working, no pulse. Now I'm crying "God please give me back my baby!! Eli please wake up!!" Eerily silent in my backyard. EMS shows up, tells me to step aside. I yell "I'm not stopping until you're starting!" They begin cpr, cut open his shirt and apply pads. I see the girl doing compressions with one hand- was I doing it wrong? They take him away and I ask to go with the ambulance. The cop says I have to stay for questioning. We wait and wait for hours. Im holding his Mickey Mouse doll and sitting on the couch. Female cop enters my house. "Im so sorry, but Elijah didn't make it." I'm in the office, on the floor, wailing, sobbing, dead inside.

The rest is fuzzy. 

Sad Easter

Easter is special to me. Christ died for my sins and then rose again. He is in Heaven with my little boy. That should make me happy. So why am I so sad?

Most holidays have been kind of strange since Eli died. Since my best friend was throwing her kids' birthday party at the beach, we decided to make a mini vacation out of it. Will asked me about Easter- I told him that everything is different now, so we might as well celebrate Easter differently. Typical Easter traditions went out the window, such as church, egg-hunting, making creamed eggs, wearing pretty clothes.

It was Olivia's first Easter, and I didn't even put her in an Easter dress. Ben didn't wear the little tux I had pictured in my mind. We didn't go to church. We didn't eat creamed eggs. The only reason Ben even got to dye eggs this year is because Aunt Amy came over with eggs and dye and sort of forced it on us.

We ran to the beach to escape, I think. But it didn't work. Because we were at that beach mere weeks before he died, and I was reminded of him at every turn. Not that he ever leaves my mind, really. But it created such a deep ache in my chest...such a terrible longing. Even now, as I write this, I feel like I might break into pieces. When I close my eyes, I can see him so vividly, sitting on the counter in Island Bob's Deli, eating his muffin cheerfully. I see him lying in the sand, watching the waves crash against the beach over and over. I see him chasing birds down the shore. And then I see him, cold in a tiny white casket, his hair styled like it never was when he was alive, his eyes flat and strange, reminding me of his absence.

I wish I could rewind and do the weekend differently. I wish I could have dressed the kids up and visited with family. I wish we had taken some pictures. I wish I could rewind and do this year differently.

Like so many other nights, I'm aching, crying, wishing I could go back. Back, back, back.

Please, just let me go back.

I'd do everything differently. I'd never let him go. I'd hold him and kiss him forever. I'd buy a different house...one without a pool. I'd.....keep him alive. Keep him safe.

I am broken, never whole, never right. 

Pondering

I got up with the baby. It's 6:51 a.m. She's back to sleep, but I'm staring at the window, now slightly illuminated by the early morning sky. 

I've come to hate first-morning light. I don't know what time Eli died, or how long he was out there, but I know it was between now and 8:30. When I put Ben back in his crib after nursing that morning, it was just starting to get light out. This time of day always reminds me of the day we lost him. And thinking about that makes me feel a heavy weight of guilt and regret that lurks somewhere beneath the surface of who I am...

This early morning light also signifies the start of a new day...having to live another without him, new possibilities (will my remaining children die?). 

And somewhere, among all that negativity somehow, there is hope...hope of the things God will bring about with a new day. 

I miss my son so much. I wish God would give him back to me. 

I feel so irritable.

Our counselor says that my day is determined by what my attitude is, and my attitude is what I choose it to be. Therefore, according to her, if I have a bad day, it's because it decided to have a bad day from the very beginning. 

When I woke up this morning, the first thing I thought was, "Thank God he's alive." I was so worried about Ben last night because of this weird twitching he did....I thought it could have been a seizure. I got him out of the crib, changed his diaper and put him in the highchair. He had cereal, a banana, strawberries and some orange juice. I felt fine then...happy, smiling with him. I changed the baby's diaper and outfit, and by that time Ben was mostly done eating. I let him down, and he played with his train table while I fed the baby. Will texted me that he had forgotten his dip for a food day at work and he wanted to know if I could bring it to him. Is that where my irritability started? Feeling pressure to do something? I really don't understand. I didn't wake up this morning feel angry, or deciding to have a grumpy day...I woke up feeling grateful for the life of my kids. Where did I go wrong? 

I took the dip up to Will's work but had to wait about 20 minutes in the parking lot while Ben fussed and whined. Will finally came out to get it and apologized for not realizing I had called him to tell him I was there. But by that point, I already felt pissed. 

Now that I'm back home, I don't even feel like getting ready for the open gym I'm supposed to be taking Ben to with my friend from MOPs. I find myself gritting my teeth a lot. Ben must sense my tension because he's acting out, which is frustrating me more. He's climbing on me, snatching things out of my hands, knocking things off of tables etc. This is so frustrating to me.

I just bought this book called Bait of Satan, and far as I've read, it's about not taking Satan's bait by feeling offended and staying offended. This must be part of my problem. 

I think I'm going to go read my Bible.

His leftover belongings.

After cleaning out Eli's things from the attic, I decided to let Ben inherit some things. Eli's horsie, and his red toy car, a couple of his puzzles, and some of his toy trains. My intention was to keep Eli's memory alive, by handing some of his special things down to his brother. I think Eli would tell me that he'd really like for Ben to have his toys. It would mean a lot to him.

Today I did a double take. I saw Ben from behind and he was playing with Eli's horsie. It's a big stuffed horse that used to sing "Jingle Bell Rock" but the batteries have died. Eli called it his "farsie" and slept with it every night. We used to laugh at night because it'd be quiet in his room for hours after bedtime, but then we'd randomly hear this horse singing. Ben recently got his hair cut, so now he looks even more like Eli did. And for a split second, I thought I had gone back in time and was looking at my Eli playing with his farsie. The realization that occurred moments later was bittersweet; as much as I'd love to have my Eli back, I wouldn't trade Ben for him. I couldn't. I wondered, while pregnant with Ben, if I could love him as much as I loved Eli...if I'd have enough love to go around. And now I know, you don't split up your love when you have another child, your love just grows.

So, rambling aside, I mistook Ben for Eli. And it hurt. But I'm glad I have my Ben....he is such a blessing. He's so sweet for such a young person. My heart overflows with love for him. He reminds me so much of his brother....but I'm beginning to see that it is a good thing. I'm glad I'll be able to tell him about his brother as he grows up. I think they would have been good friends. 

I'm so scared.

Yesterday morning, I discovered dried vomit in Ben's crib. I asked him about it, and he whined and said, "boo boo!" I don't recall hearing him cry during the night, nor did I hear him throw up. But he did. And it made me feel awful. My first thought was that I'm glad he didn't die. Most people probably don't think about death when their child vomits. But I'm terrified of anything out of the ordinary. 

I just spent some time reading a woman's blog. Her 18 month old died from SUDC: sudden unexplained death in childhood. Her baby never woke up from her nap. Okay, I know some people will think, or even tell me, "don't read that stuff, don't fill your mind with sad things." I found her blog while I was searching for one of a mother whose toddler had drowned. I wanted to find someone with a blog I could relate to, maybe a couple years out, who could give me some hope that things get better. I haven't found that blog yet, so I'll continue to read the one mentioned above. Her daughter was just six months younger than Eli. Most blogs I've come across dealing with loss have been about miscarriage and stillbirth. They're tragic, awful, unimaginable....but not quite the same as losing a toddler. 

So anyway, now my terror is renewed. I'm wondering, "Will Ben wake up tomorrow?" I just went to check the video monitor to make sure he's breathing. 

When the inconceivable hits, you realize it can hit again, at any time, without warning. 

Don't even get me started on Liv. She's 1 month old. I check her 10-15 times or day to make sure she breathing. She won't sleep unless she sleeps in the bed with me, and she likes to tuck her face right into my breast. I'm scared she will smother herself...so I don't get much sleep and what I do get is that "half wake, half asleep" cosleeping mom sleep. I don't care about that part, the losing sleep....I just want her to be safe, healthy, alive. 

Kind of ironic....those last words were ones I prayed for the night before Eli died. I prayed that God would keep him happy, healthy, and safe. Maybe I should have thrown in the word, "alive"? Would It have changed anything? I don't know the reasons for Eli's death, so I don't know if it was one of those "had to happen" type things or if I should have just prayed better. I know God knew how many days Eli would live, etc. but does that mean He caused him to die? Ugh I don't know that I even want to get into all of those questions again....I will never have answers and people have opinions that usually make me feel worse, frustrated, angry. 

I'll keep praying for my children to be happy, healthy, safe, and alive....and pray that God's will be done, even if I don't especially like what that means for me. I know He isn't out to destroy me, or cause me to live a miserable life...I need to focus on the fact that He loves me, and He loves all of my children. 

Rough day.

Its been bad today.I'm irritable. I'm angry. I'm confused. I don't understand why I had a little boy and he died. Nothing makes any sense.

My poor husband has been suffering because of my bad attitude. Everything about him annoys me: the way he chews his food, the way he walks...and that's not how I want things to be. He's a great husband and person. I shouldn't feel like this.

I want to make things better...I want to be happy...I can't. I'm stuck in a rut.

I know I am blessed to have Ben and Olivia, but it doesn't change the fact that my Eli isn't here. And I'm forgetting him, and replacing his memories with those of Ben. It is such a confusing thing. If I find a shirt in the closet, I'll wonder, "Was this Eli's or Ben's?" I can't remember. I feel like I don't remember him but I am remembering pictures. I can't believe it. I can't remember my little boy who I loved (and still love) so much.

I'm angry that God took him from me, even if His plan is perfect. I'm angry that there wasn't another way. I feel so afraid for Ben and Olivia. Every time I look at them while they're sleeping, I wait a while to make sure they're breathing.

The anxiety, fear, irritability, tension....its wearing me down.

I need good sleep, sunlight, a clean home, good friends, family time, exercise, a good diet...I know all of these things, so why can't I just implement them in my life and be happier?

I have been working on organizing the house all week...but the sleep, exercise and good diet are seemingly impossible for me.

 I feel so unmotivated and discouraged. I hope tomorrow is a better day.