Christmas came just as fast as it went. The weeks leading up to Christmas were full of emotion. Some days I felt like I had things under control, that I was in a good place; Then, suddenly I wasn't. I knew visiting family would be difficult as I hadn't seen anyone in the months since we lost Sawyer. I knew waking up on Christmas morning would be sad as it would not be the Christmas I had envisioned since last January. I knew I had to be strong for my daughter. I knew I had to make Christmas as Christmasy as I could, for her. So, I pulled myself together. I shopped, I wrapped, I baked, I wrote cards. In the few months since our lives were torn a part I have noticed a pattern on specific dates. The anticipation of the date, in my experience has usually been worse than the actual date. The seventeenth of each month, Sawyer's due date (Thanksgiving Day), Halloween, they were all o.k days, aside from anticipating them. So once again, I thought Christmas would be the same.
And then this happened.*If anyone reads this and is offended, I apologize for the profanity.
We had been at my grandmothers for not even five minutes. We were all gathered around the living room enjoying each others company. My aunt asked our daughter what she wanted Santa to bring her and she replied, "A candy cane", my aunt then said, "Come on, really? Don't you want a baby?". My heart sunk. I wanted to scream, YES she wants a fucking baby, she wants her brother here and alive! How dare you use the word baby around me. Don't you know how I feel inside? But of course I didn't. I just sat there looking around in amazement as no one seemed to think that was odd to say in front of someone whose baby just died. Immediately after my uncle looked around the room while announcing, "I'm not sure who to look at, but we need more babies in this family". Um, what? Are you fucking kidding me? Is this actually happening right now? I just had a baby, your niece. Do you remember? Do you not know the baby died and that saying such a thing is beyond inconsiderate? I looked at my husband across the room and he could tell that I had broke. I got up and left the room. There I was on Christmas Eve, curled up in my grandmother's bed, bawling. How could this be? My family is supposed to be my safe place. Didn't they share with each other before they came that this would be a tough Christmas for us? Don't they know how to act around someone who is so broken? Why don't they know? This was the beginning of my Christmas.
Christmas day wasn't as brutal. We had Christmas morning at my in laws and our daughter was so incredibly happy with all of the busyness, candy, chocolate and presents. We had brunch at my dads followed by Christmas dinner at my in laws. Nothing incredibly stupid was said and the day was over before we knew it.
One thing that continues to crush me is that Sawyer wasn't included
in our Christmas with either side of our family. Nothing done in his
memory. Nothing done for him or us, or our daughter. His name wasn't
written on our cards or spoken. This saddens me to the core. Sawyer is our son. He is a much loved brother. He is a nephew and grandchild just like the other children in our family. I will never understand how the people around us
don't think of these things. One tiny little gesture to let us know that
you care, to acknowledge his existence, would have made our first
Christmas without him a little more bearable. I guess I shouldn't say nothing was done, there were two special things done for Sawyer in the weeks before Christmas. My best friend gave me a willow tree figurine a week before Christmas. She said it was for Sawyer's first Christmas and hoped that it would bring me some comfort. This meant the world to me. I can't tell you how touched I was for her to think of this Christmas as Sawyer's first Christmas. Also, a few weeks before Christmas my mother and father in law bought an angel ornament for our daughter with the saying 'an angel is watching over you'. I love that this was done for her because she will always know when and why that ornament was given to her. I know I sound bratty expecting these things, but part of me, a big part of me, wanted to be overwhelmed with kindness this Christmas. Sawyer would have been spoiled and loved on so much if he were here. He may not be physically here, but trust me when I say he is here in my heart. He is just as much a part of my husband and I as our daughter is. Please don't forget about him as a part of our family. If someone would have bought a gift and donated it to a little boy or hospital in honour of Sawyer, I absolutely would have melted. I know I shouldn't expect these things and that I sound selfish for thinking this way, but I can't hide the truth. It's been eating away inside me. I think I feel this way because this is his 'first Christmas' and it is one that we have been anticipating for a long time. I am sure people are trying to 'protect' our feelings by not bringing him up. What they don't understand is that I am thinking of Sawyer and what happened 24/7. Talking about him and engaging my emotions is not going to crush me. It's going to lift me up knowing that he is cared about. I want him to be loved and thought of as much as our daughter.
This year I realized that Christmas isn't always a happy time of year. Prior to our loss I would decorate the house before December arrived. On December 1st we would get our tree. I would have my cards filled out and sent early. I would proudly say Merry Christmas to those around me. I never understood how people could say they didn't like Christmas. Now, unfortunately, I get it. I will no longer pass judgment on how people view certain holidays. The holidays can be a painful time of year. It can be a reminder of what we don't have. And for some, it can be a reminder of who we will never have. What I have tried to remember this Christmas is all that I DO have. I am thankful for many things this Christmas, including the son that I long to hold and squeeze tight.
Something happened a few nights before Christmas that made the upcoming days a little lighter. I was tucking our daughter into bed when she told me that baby Sawyer laid on her pillow and kissed her cheek. It put the biggest smile on my face and warmed my heart. To hear our daughter talk about her brother is so incredibly calming for me. I really hope her words are true. It made me feel that Sawyer was o.k. and that our daughter was o.k. too. Both my children were happy and o.k at the same time.
Thank you for that small sign Sawyer and A. That was my best present of all. Merry Christmas.
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Monday, December 22, 2014
Dear Sawyer
Dear Sawyer,
I miss you. I miss you every second of every day. Your sister talks about you a lot. Like Mommy and Daddy, she doesn't understand what happened to you. She knows that you are up in Heaven and smiles when she talks about you. You are a part of our conversations every day.
Christmas is in three days and we are very sad that we won't be able to hug you. It's one of the things I miss the most about you being gone. Being able to squish your newborn body with the biggest of hugs and smell your baby smell every day. I am sure you see me with your sister - I am a very hands on touchy feely loves to cuddle smothery type of Mommy. Some might call me obsessive. With your sister I pretty much cuddled her every second of every day, and still do! Our guests would politely remind me that I could have her once they leave and it was their turn! I think about us all of the time and know that you would have been my new little cuddly buddy. The love and bond that we would have shared makes me happy and sad all at once. We have a new Mommy son relationship now. I still love you just the same. Perhaps one day in a daydream I will be cuddling with you and your sister at the same time. That is what I would like for Christmas.
This is the ornament that we received for you from our remembering together swap. We hung it on our tree while thinking of you. Your sister knew how special this was to us. She touched your ornament and paused so patiently for a picture. You are so lucky to have her for a sister! She loves you very much. She knows which ornaments are for you on the tree and it is really special to hear her speak your name.
We love you, Sawyer. Merry First Christmas in Heaven.
Love,
Mommy, Daddy, Ava and Bosco
xo xo xo xo
Thursday, December 11, 2014
A Punch In The Gut
Recently I was out for coffee with two friends. One friend asked what was new with me. I was kind of annoyed as obviously the only thing new with me is tragedy. So I answered honestly and said, "Well my baby died". The look on both their faces was pure shock. It may sound morbid to just blatantly say it, but it is true. To me, it is normal to say and it is normal to hear. After all that is the only thing new in my life. It consumes me. "Whoa, punch me in the gut why don't ya!" was her response. Then it hit me - that is how I feel every single time I think about our loss. Every reminder I feel like I have been punched in the gut.
When I see a baby
When I see a little boy
When I see baby clothes
When I see boy things
When I see or hear about a pregnancy
When I hear the word brother, baby, angel, heaven, died, death, killed
Every.Single.Time.I.Log.Onto.Facebook
It all does it. It must be grief. Damn grief punches me in the stomach all day long. How am I to leave the house? How am I to watch t.v? How can I do anything with my two year old daughter that doesn't remind me of my loss?
He died. It is not a secret. It happened. I have to become comfortable saying it, and you my friends, need to become comfortable hearing it. It is not going away. Now, 10, 30 years from now I will still have a son that died. So please, become comfortable with it. If you talk to me about it - about him, you will see that it will become o.k. for you to talk about. Talking about things is how we become comfortable with a topic. Our society isn't comfortable with the topic of death - especially the death of a baby or child. It's not natural for our littles to die and so we turn our heads to the topic because we don't know how to handle such sad conversations. Unfortunately, many families have to deal with this incredibly painful loss. Please don't turn your back on infant and child loss. Become comfortable with expressing your thoughts and feelings in a respectful manner when you are in the company of those suffering.
That one minute of uncomfortableness for you, is a lifetime of uncomfortableness for me.
When I see a baby
When I see a little boy
When I see baby clothes
When I see boy things
When I see or hear about a pregnancy
When I hear the word brother, baby, angel, heaven, died, death, killed
Every.Single.Time.I.Log.Onto.Facebook
It all does it. It must be grief. Damn grief punches me in the stomach all day long. How am I to leave the house? How am I to watch t.v? How can I do anything with my two year old daughter that doesn't remind me of my loss?
He died. It is not a secret. It happened. I have to become comfortable saying it, and you my friends, need to become comfortable hearing it. It is not going away. Now, 10, 30 years from now I will still have a son that died. So please, become comfortable with it. If you talk to me about it - about him, you will see that it will become o.k. for you to talk about. Talking about things is how we become comfortable with a topic. Our society isn't comfortable with the topic of death - especially the death of a baby or child. It's not natural for our littles to die and so we turn our heads to the topic because we don't know how to handle such sad conversations. Unfortunately, many families have to deal with this incredibly painful loss. Please don't turn your back on infant and child loss. Become comfortable with expressing your thoughts and feelings in a respectful manner when you are in the company of those suffering.
That one minute of uncomfortableness for you, is a lifetime of uncomfortableness for me.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Pregnant Chicken On Stillbirth
Finally, a factual and informative post about stillbirth. Stillbirth is something I knew NOTHING about until it happened to me. The word stillbirth to me was a word associated with something terrible that happened to your baby in the 1800's. It's 2014...and it happened to me!
http://www.pregnantchicken.com/pregnant-chicken-blog/2014/4/5/scary-shit-series-stillbirth
http://www.pregnantchicken.com/pregnant-chicken-blog/2014/4/5/scary-shit-series-stillbirth
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Toddler Conversations
Tonights bedtime conversation with my two year old:
A - "Mommy, where baby Sawyer go?"
Me -"Baby Sawyer is up in heaven honey."
A - "Miss him."
Me - "You miss Sawyer, babe?"
A- "Yeah. Mommy miss?"
Me - "Yes honey, mommy misses Sawyer very much".
A - "Daddy too?"
Me - "Yes, babe. Daddy too".
A- "Mommy read book!"
She is so sweet an innocent. I love that little girl more than I could ever put into words! This is the most she has ever talked about Sawyer. It was our first real conversation about him. What a sweet heart <3 ! She has been such a doll with me. I try to hide my sadness but sometimes it is so overwhelming it just comes without warning. She brings me tissues and gives me hugs and kisses. She says, "Mommy sad" and gives me the best cuddles. I will have to work really hard to make sure my poor girl has more memories of me happy than sad.
Love her!
A - "Mommy, where baby Sawyer go?"
Me -"Baby Sawyer is up in heaven honey."
A - "Miss him."
Me - "You miss Sawyer, babe?"
A- "Yeah. Mommy miss?"
Me - "Yes honey, mommy misses Sawyer very much".
A - "Daddy too?"
Me - "Yes, babe. Daddy too".
A- "Mommy read book!"
She is so sweet an innocent. I love that little girl more than I could ever put into words! This is the most she has ever talked about Sawyer. It was our first real conversation about him. What a sweet heart <3 ! She has been such a doll with me. I try to hide my sadness but sometimes it is so overwhelming it just comes without warning. She brings me tissues and gives me hugs and kisses. She says, "Mommy sad" and gives me the best cuddles. I will have to work really hard to make sure my poor girl has more memories of me happy than sad.
Love her!
Saturday, December 6, 2014
An Open Letter
An open letter to my friends:
Dear friends,
I am writing you this letter to let you know what I need from you. I am not brave enough to tell you in person. There are many many things that you are doing that are very hurtful. I know you aren't trying to hurt me. I know you love me. You simply just don't know how to act around me. I get it - sort of. I'd like to think that I would just know these things, but maybe I wouldn't. Perhaps you will never read these words and know my feelings, but this is what I am feeling today and I need to share. I need to write.
First, I am sorry that you have lost your friend. You have lost your friendship with me - your bubbly, happy, sarcastic and witty friend. I am the same person, but my mind works a little different now. I am still all of those things - but now I am also so much more. I am still picking up the pieces of my old self and trying merge my new self into one. Just as my life is evolving - our friendship is too.
Please be gentle with me. Please be aware with every fiber of your being of just how fragile I am.
I know on the outside I may appear together - I am not. I can smile. I can laugh. I can joke. I can act. I still need you more than ever to be there for me. I need you to check in with me and simply ask if I am o.k. Please tell me that you are thinking about me and how you wish things were different. Tell me it's normal to feel the way that I feel and tell me how strong I am. Please tell me that this isn't my fault. Although each day is no longer quite so numb, I still need that reassurance. I need to know you are there for me. Today, and always. If you tell me many years from now that you are thinking about what we went through with Sawyer, I won't be sad. Please talk to me about him. I love him. It shows me that his life had purpose - it shows me you care.
When we are together, please don't talk about other people being pregnant. It hurts. I don't need the reminder that everyone around me gets their happy ending. I know.
If I am at your house and you have ultrasounds and birth announcements laying around - please take them down. If you have a birth announcement up of a baby named Sawyer, that is not my Sawyer - please, take it down.
Please don't mention the word 'baby', unless you are talking about mine. It's a painful reminder that my baby is not with me, and he should be.
I don't want to hear about you loaning out your baby items out to your friends because they aren't being used at your house right now. I don't need to know that you lent them out but will need them back. I don't need the reminder that you will go on to have more children like it's just nothing but an easy thing in life. You will get pregnant and feel joyful and have your child - alive. Mine died.
When you talk about the relationship between your TWO children, it hurts. It reminds me that my two children will never have that relationship.
Please don't talk to me about how difficult it is organizing life with multiple children. Your organizational nightmare is my dream life.
Please don't talk about little boys and boy things. I may never get the chance to raise a boy - and I should have. I don't need this reminder.
Please don't talk about your 'first family picture' with the four of you. Our family of four looks like a family of three. It hurts when I see your perfect family. Please don't verbally remind me. I know you are happy for your family, and I am happy for you, but I can't share your happiness right now with you.
Please think before you speak. I am still broken. A casual conversation about life can be debilitating to me. I know we talked about these things before. I know your life is the same. But mine is different. VERY different. So please be gentle with me while I work on my new self.
Be gentle. Be considerate. Be very aware of the words coming out of your mouth.
Lastly, please don't be me mad at me if you are reading this. If you are thinking 'oh my god, that one was me!', it's o.k. I forgive you - you just simply don't get it, and I get that. I know that you love me and that you are not intentionally trying to hurt me.
Love,
T
Dear friends,
I am writing you this letter to let you know what I need from you. I am not brave enough to tell you in person. There are many many things that you are doing that are very hurtful. I know you aren't trying to hurt me. I know you love me. You simply just don't know how to act around me. I get it - sort of. I'd like to think that I would just know these things, but maybe I wouldn't. Perhaps you will never read these words and know my feelings, but this is what I am feeling today and I need to share. I need to write.
First, I am sorry that you have lost your friend. You have lost your friendship with me - your bubbly, happy, sarcastic and witty friend. I am the same person, but my mind works a little different now. I am still all of those things - but now I am also so much more. I am still picking up the pieces of my old self and trying merge my new self into one. Just as my life is evolving - our friendship is too.
Please be gentle with me. Please be aware with every fiber of your being of just how fragile I am.
I know on the outside I may appear together - I am not. I can smile. I can laugh. I can joke. I can act. I still need you more than ever to be there for me. I need you to check in with me and simply ask if I am o.k. Please tell me that you are thinking about me and how you wish things were different. Tell me it's normal to feel the way that I feel and tell me how strong I am. Please tell me that this isn't my fault. Although each day is no longer quite so numb, I still need that reassurance. I need to know you are there for me. Today, and always. If you tell me many years from now that you are thinking about what we went through with Sawyer, I won't be sad. Please talk to me about him. I love him. It shows me that his life had purpose - it shows me you care.
When we are together, please don't talk about other people being pregnant. It hurts. I don't need the reminder that everyone around me gets their happy ending. I know.
If I am at your house and you have ultrasounds and birth announcements laying around - please take them down. If you have a birth announcement up of a baby named Sawyer, that is not my Sawyer - please, take it down.
Please don't mention the word 'baby', unless you are talking about mine. It's a painful reminder that my baby is not with me, and he should be.
I don't want to hear about you loaning out your baby items out to your friends because they aren't being used at your house right now. I don't need to know that you lent them out but will need them back. I don't need the reminder that you will go on to have more children like it's just nothing but an easy thing in life. You will get pregnant and feel joyful and have your child - alive. Mine died.
When you talk about the relationship between your TWO children, it hurts. It reminds me that my two children will never have that relationship.
Please don't talk to me about how difficult it is organizing life with multiple children. Your organizational nightmare is my dream life.
Please don't talk about little boys and boy things. I may never get the chance to raise a boy - and I should have. I don't need this reminder.
Please don't talk about your 'first family picture' with the four of you. Our family of four looks like a family of three. It hurts when I see your perfect family. Please don't verbally remind me. I know you are happy for your family, and I am happy for you, but I can't share your happiness right now with you.
Please think before you speak. I am still broken. A casual conversation about life can be debilitating to me. I know we talked about these things before. I know your life is the same. But mine is different. VERY different. So please be gentle with me while I work on my new self.
Be gentle. Be considerate. Be very aware of the words coming out of your mouth.
Lastly, please don't be me mad at me if you are reading this. If you are thinking 'oh my god, that one was me!', it's o.k. I forgive you - you just simply don't get it, and I get that. I know that you love me and that you are not intentionally trying to hurt me.
Love,
T
What I Need
My friends - I need you. My family - I need you. I need you more than ever. Please come back. Please don't forget about me. Please don't forget about Sawyer.
It has been 11 weeks since we lost Sawyer. 11 weeks of unbearable pain, heartache and sadness. 11 weeks of a crushed future.
It has only been 11 weeks since our lives were forever changed. 11 weeks after 30 whole years of happiness. Surly you understand that I am not better after only 11 weeks.
I am incredibly saddened by the friend and family freeze. Where did you all go? I know before all of this life was busy and we were all consumed with our children, but can you please stop and think of us every now and again and let me know by some form of communication? I know this probably sounds selfish - but is what I need. A week to you may fly by, but to me it feels like a month. Every day I wake, wishing it were bedtime. Please check on me. I know it sounds childish, but again, it's what I need.
Not hearing from you makes me feel even more isolated than I already feel after losing Sawyer.
Please find me. It's what I need.
It has been 11 weeks since we lost Sawyer. 11 weeks of unbearable pain, heartache and sadness. 11 weeks of a crushed future.
At this time, I have never felt so alone. In the beginning I pushed everyone away. I couldn't bear the thought of seeing anyone. The grief was so raw, it consumed me. I was sad, embarrassed, destroyed. I was lost and I did not want anyone to find me.
Please find me. I am ready, and now your gone. The rawness has eased and I am able to carry on a conversation without breaking down - but everyone has disappeared. The calls have stopped, the cards have stopped, the text messages have stopped.
It has only been 11 weeks since our lives were forever changed. 11 weeks after 30 whole years of happiness. Surly you understand that I am not better after only 11 weeks.
I am incredibly saddened by the friend and family freeze. Where did you all go? I know before all of this life was busy and we were all consumed with our children, but can you please stop and think of us every now and again and let me know by some form of communication? I know this probably sounds selfish - but is what I need. A week to you may fly by, but to me it feels like a month. Every day I wake, wishing it were bedtime. Please check on me. I know it sounds childish, but again, it's what I need.
Not hearing from you makes me feel even more isolated than I already feel after losing Sawyer.
Please find me. It's what I need.
Monday, December 1, 2014
The Move
Aside
from the loss of Sawyer, our family is going through another trying
time. We are homeless! We have been living with my in-laws for some time
now. You can imagine how hard it is to grieve such a loss while not in
the comfort of your own home.
We sold our house at the end of June and have been unable to find a house to purchase that we like. We thought for sure the 60 day close would be enough time. We were wrong! We moved because we were in a townhouse and we wanted more space for our TWO children to play. My husbands wonderful parents welcomed us into their home, with the assumption by all parties that we would be here for a few weeks. We had planned to purchase and move in slowly after Sawyer arrived. Their help with a baby and a toddler would be wonderful, we would paint and do some improvements before we moved in. We felt lucky that we wouldn't be rushed. Now we are still here, but with no baby and no move out date.
We know we are being picky, but the house has to be just right. I moved more than a dozen times as a child and I want one home to raise my family in. A home that feels right, and that we love. We didn't realize it would be so hard to find. We came from a brand new townhouse, one where we built and choose all of our upgrades. Now that we are looking for a single detached house, we can't have all of the upgrades and a great location because simply, we aren't millionaires. We are also looking to buy in one of two desirable towns. We could purchase a home where our townhouse was, but we don't want to be so far away from friends and family. Our home search is even more difficult now, as we will be moving in with the 3 of us, and not 4. Our home especially has to feel right now. I hope Sawyer gives us some sort of sign when the right one comes up.
Moving is also my biggest regret. I will forever feel that Sawyer died because we moved. I know babies don't die because people move, but I need an answer, and to me at this moment that sounds logical. Anyone who has moved knows that moving is stressful. I can't help but blame the move on Sawyer's passing. Everything has fallen out of place because of our move. We don't have a home, and most importantly, we have lost our son, our daughters little brother. I was so selfish to want a bigger home. I feel like I sacrificed my baby's life for my happiness - a new home. Except I don't have a home. And I am not happy. If I had a new home, I still would not be happy. I would be happy living in a cardboard box with the four of us. I truly would. My baby died, and it's my fault. How do you live with yourself after that? Truthfully, I am surprised the guilt has not killed me. Why did we choose to move while I was pregnant? Pregnancy is such a special experience, and I took it for granted the second time around. I toted him around in my belly while I chased my two year old and packed boxes all summer. I should have slowed down. I should have listened and watched for signs. I naively assumed that he would arrive happy and healthy just like my daughter. Each doctors appointment he was measuring to size and he had a healthy heartbeat. I felt him move around in my belly often, I talked to him each time he jabbed my ribs and pushed on my belly. But, I didn't count his kicks, and I should have. Maybe I would have noticed that he was slowing down. I will never know, and I have to live with that.
My midwife and high risk obstetrician have assured me that his passing had nothing to do with my stress, but I need an answer and to me that seems possible. We moved, and so our baby died. I know that many people move while pregnant and their babies live, but still, I blame the move. Another part of me feels that perhaps moving was a blessing in disguise. Maybe Sawyer would have passed anyway and somehow god (or whomever I believe in) new that we would need to be surrounded by our family in one home. I am not sure what I believe anymore. I just know that Sawyer is not here, and he should be. We don't have a home for our family, and we should.
We were moved and settled in here 4 weeks before Sawyer died and arrived. My in-laws were in Italy for the first two weeks which gave us time to settle ourselves in. Sawyer came just over a week after they returned home. I am so thankful they were home and with us. The week before Sawyer passed was so relaxing. I had finished work (I worked for 4 days after having the summer off), the move was done, and now I had time to relax with my sweet baby and daughter before his arrival. But, he came too soon and the circumstances were horrific.
A positive - my in laws are fantastic! If I had to be anywhere other than my own home, it would be here. They are so incredibly generous to let us stay here with our wild toddler, and our equally wild boxer dog. They have a beautiful large home with a beautiful property that is so comforting and relaxing. We have our own space and our daughter absolutely loves it here. I don't know who will be more sad when we move out, our daughter or my father in law. My daughter and him have quite the relationship. It's beautiful to see each day. Although they are fantastic, it is hard knowing that we have completely intruded their space. Their once happy and clean home is now stained with the sadness of death. Our big crazy dog is a lot to clean up after - he is drooly and sheddy and gross, but we love him dearly. Our toddler has stuff everywhere. Clothes, toys, art supplies - you name it. Each level of their home is burdened with our family's mess. The literal mess and the sadness mess. It must be difficult to share your home with someone grieving such a loss. I will forever be thankful to them.
Although I am obviously so so sad that Sawyer will not be joining our family physically in our move, I look forward to the day where we finally find a house that feels like a home. I look forward to creating memories in our new home with our daughter, and including memories of Sawyer throughout our home - reminders that he did exist and that we love him dearly.
We sold our house at the end of June and have been unable to find a house to purchase that we like. We thought for sure the 60 day close would be enough time. We were wrong! We moved because we were in a townhouse and we wanted more space for our TWO children to play. My husbands wonderful parents welcomed us into their home, with the assumption by all parties that we would be here for a few weeks. We had planned to purchase and move in slowly after Sawyer arrived. Their help with a baby and a toddler would be wonderful, we would paint and do some improvements before we moved in. We felt lucky that we wouldn't be rushed. Now we are still here, but with no baby and no move out date.
We know we are being picky, but the house has to be just right. I moved more than a dozen times as a child and I want one home to raise my family in. A home that feels right, and that we love. We didn't realize it would be so hard to find. We came from a brand new townhouse, one where we built and choose all of our upgrades. Now that we are looking for a single detached house, we can't have all of the upgrades and a great location because simply, we aren't millionaires. We are also looking to buy in one of two desirable towns. We could purchase a home where our townhouse was, but we don't want to be so far away from friends and family. Our home search is even more difficult now, as we will be moving in with the 3 of us, and not 4. Our home especially has to feel right now. I hope Sawyer gives us some sort of sign when the right one comes up.
Moving is also my biggest regret. I will forever feel that Sawyer died because we moved. I know babies don't die because people move, but I need an answer, and to me at this moment that sounds logical. Anyone who has moved knows that moving is stressful. I can't help but blame the move on Sawyer's passing. Everything has fallen out of place because of our move. We don't have a home, and most importantly, we have lost our son, our daughters little brother. I was so selfish to want a bigger home. I feel like I sacrificed my baby's life for my happiness - a new home. Except I don't have a home. And I am not happy. If I had a new home, I still would not be happy. I would be happy living in a cardboard box with the four of us. I truly would. My baby died, and it's my fault. How do you live with yourself after that? Truthfully, I am surprised the guilt has not killed me. Why did we choose to move while I was pregnant? Pregnancy is such a special experience, and I took it for granted the second time around. I toted him around in my belly while I chased my two year old and packed boxes all summer. I should have slowed down. I should have listened and watched for signs. I naively assumed that he would arrive happy and healthy just like my daughter. Each doctors appointment he was measuring to size and he had a healthy heartbeat. I felt him move around in my belly often, I talked to him each time he jabbed my ribs and pushed on my belly. But, I didn't count his kicks, and I should have. Maybe I would have noticed that he was slowing down. I will never know, and I have to live with that.
My midwife and high risk obstetrician have assured me that his passing had nothing to do with my stress, but I need an answer and to me that seems possible. We moved, and so our baby died. I know that many people move while pregnant and their babies live, but still, I blame the move. Another part of me feels that perhaps moving was a blessing in disguise. Maybe Sawyer would have passed anyway and somehow god (or whomever I believe in) new that we would need to be surrounded by our family in one home. I am not sure what I believe anymore. I just know that Sawyer is not here, and he should be. We don't have a home for our family, and we should.
We were moved and settled in here 4 weeks before Sawyer died and arrived. My in-laws were in Italy for the first two weeks which gave us time to settle ourselves in. Sawyer came just over a week after they returned home. I am so thankful they were home and with us. The week before Sawyer passed was so relaxing. I had finished work (I worked for 4 days after having the summer off), the move was done, and now I had time to relax with my sweet baby and daughter before his arrival. But, he came too soon and the circumstances were horrific.
A positive - my in laws are fantastic! If I had to be anywhere other than my own home, it would be here. They are so incredibly generous to let us stay here with our wild toddler, and our equally wild boxer dog. They have a beautiful large home with a beautiful property that is so comforting and relaxing. We have our own space and our daughter absolutely loves it here. I don't know who will be more sad when we move out, our daughter or my father in law. My daughter and him have quite the relationship. It's beautiful to see each day. Although they are fantastic, it is hard knowing that we have completely intruded their space. Their once happy and clean home is now stained with the sadness of death. Our big crazy dog is a lot to clean up after - he is drooly and sheddy and gross, but we love him dearly. Our toddler has stuff everywhere. Clothes, toys, art supplies - you name it. Each level of their home is burdened with our family's mess. The literal mess and the sadness mess. It must be difficult to share your home with someone grieving such a loss. I will forever be thankful to them.
Although I am obviously so so sad that Sawyer will not be joining our family physically in our move, I look forward to the day where we finally find a house that feels like a home. I look forward to creating memories in our new home with our daughter, and including memories of Sawyer throughout our home - reminders that he did exist and that we love him dearly.
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