Some days...

While we were sitting at our dining room table I looked out the window and there was the most brilliant rainbow...right over the cemetery where our little Zac's grave it.

I needed that rainbow that day!

Trying to climb the ropes at the Forestry Farm like his big cousin Finley! Peek-a-booooo Chasing the geese at the Forestry Farm. He thought it was hilarious when they hissed and honked at him! Yikes!! Hangin' with his cousins, Finley and Brighton. First off, let me start by saying I still don't get a lot of this blogging stuff, and some days the spacing and paragraphs are as I type them, and other days it is just one string of sentences. Very annoying. But, that's just a side note of annoyance for technology and nothing to do with my post title :) The pictures really say it all. The rainbow that evening seemed to get brighter and brighter instead of fading like they usually do. And right over the cemetery. I told you...I see the cemetery out of every back window in our house and from our deck. Some days it is "soothing" to be so close to my sons body...other days it rips my heart to shreds knowing I'm so close to his now bones...yet so very far from where he truly is. And even though one day we will reunite...on earth it hurts to be so close, yet so very far. I miss my Zac. It never changes. Each breath holds the ache of missing him. Each heart beat reminds me of the heart beat missing in our home. Every where I look...I see where he is missing. And I still get so very angry. I still see each dream I held for my sons together. And it hurts to have those dreams taken away and left only as memories. One day...one day I will hold all my children again. One day we will ALL be together once more. And that is what I have to remember while the pains stings down here on earth. Then each time I look at Evan...my heart over flows with love and gratitude and thanksgiving. Each time I look at Evan and realize how easily I could have lost him too...yet we are so blessed to see his smile, to hear his laugh, to watch him growing and learning and becoming this amazing little boy! We look at him in awe from where he came from. 12 weeks early. Do you REALLY comprehend how early that is! A trimester early. And we are so blessed to have this strong, healthy, intelligent little boy. We are truly blessed, and we know it. And we are greatful for him. I shed tears often as I hold him and rock him to sleep (YES, I STILL rock him to sleep when he wants and I will never regret that!!!) As I sit there holding him and watching him drift to sleep I constantly am thrown back to NICU days...and I remember this fragile, uncertain little life that we watched in his fill-in "womb" as I like to refer to his isolette. Watching him grow how he should have been growing inside of me. Watching this fragile skin, body, bones, breath. Wondering every day if today was going to be the day for a set back. Wondering if we were ever going to bring Evan home. Wondering if we would walk out of that hospital empty armed and broken hearted all over again. And I look at my son now and think...I am so very lucky. I am so very very lucky. Even the days where I am tired and run down and frustrated...I hold him and I let the tears fall because I have him here with me. I get to hear "mommy mommy mommy" over and over again. I get to hear and watch the temper tantrums that occasionally occur. I get to have the mommy-frustrations...and I love them. And each time I feel frustrated, I feel ashamed. I don't feel like I deserve to feel that way. We waited 10 years for our children. We lost three children. We were granted the responsibility and honor of parenting Evan. Ya...I might feel frustrated some days in my own tiredness...but I will NEVER tire of my son toddling behind me pulling on my pant leg and shouting "mommy mommy mommy" over and over again. I wish I were hearing it in double...and both pant legs were being pulled around. But that is not the way life is, so I savour EVERY single solitary moment of ANY emotion or attitude my son may have. Even watching his (very occasional...seriously!! I'm lucky!) tantrums...it warms my heart (even if it grates on my nerves) because I see the 2lb 9ou baby that fought so hard to stay with us! So I will savour the sounds of his melt downs and I will look at him and say "you are strong, you are determined...and you will always be a fighter! And I love you!" One thing that I will always struggle with is talking about pregnancy, birth, etc. with friends. I have come to realize that people don't really ask me how I felt or what I experienced...because I missed the most active part of my pregnancy...so what do I have to comment on or advice to give? Really...it's the truth. I was only in my 3rd trimester for one week.

And I guess I get jealous listening to the woes of the third trimester and the "I wish this baby would be born already" comments...because all I got to wish and pray for was more time for my sons to remain inside me! I am envious of listening to all the discomforts (granted I had MANY of my own with carrying two babies inside!) and all the normal pregnancy talk and memories and feelings. I have no memory of my sons being born. I didn't get to be awake. The only memories were terrifying, and felt like the worst nightmare of my life. I honestly felt like I was suffocating when they were gassing me to put me out for surgery. No one held my sons up for me to see them. I didn't get to hear them cry. I didn't get to touch them or weep tears of joy and awe. I have no idea what all went on to revive them and get them breathing. My husband watched as they were whisked by to the NICU. He got to see them. I didn't even get to have my husband by my side as our long dreamed of sons were born. I didn't get to hold his hand and giggle with him in nervous anticipation. I didn't get to yell at him through contractions. I didn't get to tell him how scared yet excited I was. All I got to tell him was that I was bleeding, and we needed to get back to the hospital FAST. I just remember being torn from him from L&D observation to the OR. We didn't get to say goodbye, we didn't get to kiss each other, I didn't get to see the reassuring look in his eyes even though I know I would have seen fear. I went in to that OR alone, without my rock. And I was shaken. I woke up with him by my side, and with pictures for me to see of our boys. That was my introduction. And the feeling of fear and uncertainty. So really...when the girls all sit around and talk about their pregnancies and deliveries...as happy as I am that no one else has had to experience anything so frightening and devastating...I feel alone and left out from the conversation. I admit that it hurts my heart. Even though I am now a mommy, I have no exciting HAPPY story to tell of my delivery. I have no labour story to share. I have no story to share of how I felt when I saw my sons held up after they were born. I have no idea what it feels like to have happy, blissful memories. And it hurts. And even though it is unintentional...I withdraw. Because I feel so outside of the comprehension of the conversation. And that makes me feel sad. It's just hard some days. I wish I were one of them. I wish I had my sons on each of my laps as I shared my labor and delivery story. I wish I could say how I felt the moment they were born. I wish a lot of things that will never be. Yet...my little Evan is my shining light. Our son, who we wondered many days if he would ever come home, is HERE...and for that I am blessed. I may not ever fit in to the conversation...but Evan and I, and Brett and I...we have our stories to share that only we will ever really understand. I don't know if I will EVER get to share a normal pregnancy/birth story. I don't know if we will ever be blessed with another child. So for now I have to just rejoice in the fact that none of my friends have had to experience the fear and pain and grief and confusion of my type of pregnancy/delivery and the days, weeks and year that has followed. And instead of withdrawing I need to just rejoice with and for them. The envy may always stir inside of me...but I want to be a joyful friend! Yes...I have GREAT joy! His name is Evan. And he is my world and my light and my joy and my pride. But this proud and joyful mommy will always hold the ache of the loss of her son. It will never go away. It will always be a part of who I am. Evan is just so full of life and curiousity and determination and will power. I NEVER want him to lose that! I want him to always be a fighter for what is right and for the life ahead of him. I want to be a strong example for him...but I want him to know that it is OKAY to hurt and feel sad too. I want him to learn how to love others through their times of pain and rough patches. I want him to learn the value of being a good and true friend and mate. I have so many hopes and dreams for my son. They may have changed in respect that he is without his brother here on earth, but I still have such hopes and dreams and prayers for my precious son. But I need to be an example. I need to be the source of where he will learn these values. He is such a character. He makes me laugh so hard. It's so fun watching him becoming his own person. I am truly lucky. But there are always those days... and that's okay. I'm human.