It’s not something that happens over night.  There is no noticable differnece from last night to this morning.  But compare from last year to this year … you are bound to see some changes.  Growth isn’t guaranteed; there are bound to be some set backs.  But it’s the growth that makes you feel strong.  Like you’ve accomplished something.

I saw growth on Monday night.  I have been connected with another woman who lost her daughter almost four years ago.  Her situation is so different than mine, however, her questions reminded me of what I felt like.  When I look at myself in the morning, I don’t feel like I’ve healed since Owen’s death.  I still think about him daily, if not hourly.  I still reach for something orange to wear each day.  I find it almost unbearable to watch a tv show that has children dying in the story line.  I force myself to face the pain though, hoping it will eventually help numb the hurt.

I didn’t realize that the pain isn’t as breath taking as 8 months ago.  I didn’t realize that I no longer had those stomach aches thinking that I could have done something to get a different outcome.  Were his sheets too loose?  Did I do CPR right?  Were my compressions hard enough?  Too hard?  Did I count right when giving him breaths.  I suppose you could say that I have accepted why Owen died.  Even though we don’t have a black and white answer (still waiting for DNA testing), it doesn’t matter.  I couldn’t have done anything to stop what happened.  No one is to blame but the fact that we live in this world.

I still think about all the things I wish I would have done differently.  I think about wishing I had kept the shirt he wore at the funeral.  It was an orange button down shirt – Logan wore his matching green one and Weston wore his blue blue shirt.  I regret not having his shirt to make a pillow out of.  Something to hug when I yearn to be holding him instead.

I wish I would have kept his baptismal blanket.  What would I really need with it now?  It’s really something beautiful that the same blanket that brought him into his Christian life, also went with him from this world.  I know that he had a blanket to comfort him as his body faced cremation.

I still have the regrets, but I have grown to be able to remind myself, that I made the “right” choice.  I say “right” because what is really right about a child dying?  There is no “right” choice.  There are those choices that you make and those that you regret.  But nothing about it is right.

I was surprised to see growth in myself so soon.  It’s only been 8 months.  Yet, it seems like so much longer.  I remember a mom telling me that the pain never really goes away, it just gets easier to live with.  I suppose there is a lot of truth in that statement.  It’s not easy to live with …. but it is easier today than it was on May 26, 2011.

I pray for continued growth.  I pray that God continues to bless me and my family.  I pray thanksgiving for my invisible healing.  And I pray for others who are in need of healing and growth.

Love, Mel

Pastor Chris spoke this past Sunday about what he called “mountain top moments.”  Those moments when the curtain between the past and the future is drawn back and we have a glimpse of what tomorrow has for us.  I knew I would be planning a funeral.  But I also knew that many great things would come from my family’s tragedy.   I felt calm, strong and confident.  I said my prayers, knowing what my heart desired.  I prayed that His would be done.   I prayed for the strength so that I would come through this pain, stronger and closer to Him because of it.  I prayed for others strength rather than for my own.

I find myself now yearning for that closeness again.  I want to feel His grace on my shoulders.  I want to have that clarity again.  I would do anything to freeze that time forever.  Go back to sleeping in the hospital next to Doug, with the sounds of the machines in the background. The late night talks with Owen’s nurses.  The constant flow of visitors.  Everyone taking care of one another.  Sharing chairs.  Sitting in this tiny room like gerbils – all over each other.  If I had the choice, I would go back to that time.

But I can’t.  I cannot turn back the clock.  I cannot recreate something so tender.  It was a tease, just a peak at what God had in store for us.  The five days we had was a gift.  A fleeting glimpse of a gift.

So we come down off the mountain and are where?  In the valley …. where pain and suffering are promised.  We are living in a world in which is un-fix-ably broken.  Where innocent words of “oh are they twins?” stabs you in the heart making it hard to breath.  Always unexpected – a smile in line while waiting for a cup of coffee.  Then the innocent words and the heartache sets in.

Someone asked me if I was always pained or annoyed with the dumb things people said.  When shopping with all three triplets, we were a FREAK show.  I’m talking show stopper – I began to pretend that I couldn’t hear people just so I could get my shopping done.  I miss being the freak show.  I was different.  I felt chosen – these triplets were spontaneous.  God chose me as their mother.  He picked me.  I felt special and now I feel like I blend in.  Twins are not nearly as eye catching as triplets.  Funny how big of a difference just one more makes.  My answer to the question?  It was easy to make a joke out of the dumb things people said before.  Laugh about making a t-shirt that answered all their questions so they wouldn’t have to bother me.  Video tape people’s dumb questions while at the mall.  Quote “Holy stroller Batman!” and laugh til my belly hurt.  Now the questions take my breath away.  They are the same dumb questions.  I want to correct them but the pain doesn’t always allow me.  It’s a pain that I didn’t have when Owen was still alive – in the hospital even.   I wasn’t the invisible triplet mom then.

How do I get back on the mountain top?  How do you escape the pains of living in the valley?  I don’t think we can.  We are aren’t meant to live on the mountain top.  But the glimpses are meant to give us hope.  They are something to hold onto when things get hard.  God is constantly working in our lives.  Change is inevitable.  Things are passing away but new things are always on the horizon.

Yes, my son died.  But a daughter lived.  Yes, I have to watch Jaden mourn the loss of his brother.  But I also get to watch him grow in his faith at the young age of five.  The undoubting mind of a child.  So we live in a world of pain and sorrow, but I cling to the hope of tomorrow.

Love, Mel

In spite of the chaos of the house and the naughtiness …. I can’t help but laugh (sometimes hysterically) at the things these kids come up with!  AND I usually find the time to grab my camera when things get really nuts.  Making memories right??

Why not play in Mom’s cupboards?  They look pretty fun to me … if only I would fit in there!

Jaden couldn’t stay away for long

I mean come on!  How cute is that?  Two boys all snuggled in their “fort”  If only this wasn’t happening when I was trying to make dinner

and yes … Jaden isn’t wearing any pants.  What is it with boys that they come home from school and drop their drawers?  ALL of my kids take off their pants and run around nakie.  Is it a boy thing?  Or a Bissing boy thing?

Oh yes … making memories!  Come on moms … what crazy stories about your kids do you have to share?  I know I’m not alone in this nut house named motherhood!

Love, Mel

I love my family so much.  I would do anything for them but I just want to find a mute button.  Do they sell one of those at Target?  I’ll put it on my grocery list.  Maybe I’ll even find a coupon for one.  Double bonus.

Life is so brief.  It’s so short.  Whether you live to be 6 months or 90 years old, I don’t think there is enough time to do everything I want.  There will never be enough time to read all the books I want to read.  Crochet as many hats in as many colors as I’d like.  Learn to sew … not just hem a pair of pants, but really sew.  I’ll never have time (or the money) to see all the corners of the world.  I’ll never have enough time to watch my kids grow.  Do more for my church.  Meet enough people.  Hear enough stories.  Eat enough chocolate.  There just isn’t enough time.  How I wish I didn’t need sleep … I could do so much more with my short time on earth.

How do I choose what to focus on?  What is the most important?  How do you pick?

I just feel on edge and like I can’t get to everything.  I would like a pause button for everything going on around me so I can catch up.  Just pause the babies eating breakfast so I have more time to update the church website while I enjoy another cup of coffee.  I don’t want to miss out on the time I have with my babies … I just want more time for other stuff.  Again … where is the button for that?

I know that these are the years of sacrifice.  Carpe Diem and all that jazz.  I know that this too shall pass.  When the kids go to school there will be more time.   But will it be enough time?  I just feel like it will never be enough time for me.  Life in itself is just too short.

Love, Mel

***

Babies with congenital heart defects look like they are healthy. But true is there’s a battle going on inside them!

A congenital heart defect is a problem with the structure of the heart. It is present at birth. Congenital heart defects are the most common type of major birth defect.

A baby’s heart begins to develop shortly after conception. During development, structural defects can occur. These defects can involve the walls of the heart, the valves of the heart and the arteries and veins near the heart. Congenital heart defects can disrupt the normal flow of blood through the heart. The blood flow can

• Slow down
• Go in the wrong direction or to the wrong place
• Be blocked completely

Treatment for the defect can include medicines, surgery and other medical procedures and heart transplants. The treatment depends on the type and severity of the defect and a child’s age, size and general health. Today, many children born with complex heart defects grow to adulthood and lead productive lives.

Congenital heart defects are the most common type of birth defect. They affect 8 out of every 1,000 newborns. Each year, more than 35,000 babies in the United States are born with congenital heart defects.

This is a picture of Josie when she was just a couple weeks old she looked so healthy. And we thought she pretty much was. We are learned that things can change quiet quick when you have a CHD child. Not only for them but for your whole family.

Please help spread CHD awareness!

Thank you!

<3 Brittanie

***

Funny how it feels so close to home for me now.  Emma’s (my brother’s girlfriend) little brother, Finn, has this same defect.  And now a cousin of mine just had a baby, Kaleb, with this defect.  In less than a year three special heart babies have come into my life.  Help spread the word.

Love, Mel

As I got dressed for church I questioned – What if there is another baptism today?  Do I pray there isn’t?  Do I hope there is?  After all a baptism is something wonderful and beautiful.  Perhaps it would give me something to be hopeful for.  Or perhaps it would twist the knife already stabbing at my chest.

As Jaden and I drove to church, I remembered what I was wearing a year ago.  The new top I bought from TJ Max.  I remembered how all 6 of us had piled into the car that morning.  My family was waiting for us at church as they swept the babies away to dress them in their Packer jerseys.  How I was 40 pounds lighter!  I hadn’t been that skinny since college.  One of the perks to nursing I suppose.

I found my seat in church and first thing I checked was the bulletin.  OK – no baptism today.  A little bit of relief.

As church started I almost waited for them to acknowledge that it was the year mark of the triplet’s baptism.  I felt like I was screaming inside – mention Owen!  Say his name!  Please, let it still be about him!  Please someone recognize today.  Let someone say that they remember what today is.  Am I the only one?  It’s like he is slipping more and more out of the present.  He’s more and more a memory of “last year” rather than still living in today.

I found myself begging Owen to show his face to me.  I found myself confessing how terribly bad I wanted to see his eyes full of life again.  Please Owen, I want to hold you, feel you hold my finger, hear you cry.  My pain came out in tears as I took communion.  I felt that he was near – the child comforting his grieving mother.

The sermon was about healing.  Jesus healed the sick – those with fevers, possessed by demons, the lame.  Would he heal a broken heart the same way?  It’s something you can’t see, but at times it’s as physical as a broken bone.  It stops you dead in your tracks.  I find it hard to breath through the pain.  Yet, no one can see it.  I have to find the energy and the words to explain what is going on with me.

If I cut my finger open and was bleeding, Doug would know why I was crying.  He might help and get me a towel.  He would check on me to see if I was ok – offer to take me to see a doctor.  When I cry because I miss Owen – he doesn’t understand.  What is going on with you?  I tell him I miss Owen.  But it’s still hard for him to care for my invisible pain.  What I need is different each time I miss him.  He can’t see the wound – no one can see the wounds I carry.  Just when you think it’s starting to heal, something rips it wide open again.

So I had a sad day yesterday.  I cried –  boogers and everything.  I laid in bed with my hooded sweatshirt over my face, eyes closed.  I napped.  I had a beer during the Super Bowl.  Sunday could be a terrible day.  Monday would be better.  I’ll let myself have a day – but tomorrow would be better.

Love, Mel

It’ll be a two part deal:

First part:  We will be collecting items starting now until March 21st for these bags.  It’s items such as non-perishable snacks, shampoo, soap, deodorant, books, small toys, etc.  There is a complete list here.

If you are out of town and would still like to participate, this is a great way.  Take your child to the dollar store or Wal-Mart or Target and talk to them about people who don’t have homes.  Have them try to come up with a list of what kinds of items they would need if they didn’t have a house to live in.  The basics.  Praise them for thinking of others and tell them how important it is.  It’s the teaching part that really gets me motivated about this project.

Second part: We are inviting children of all ages to join us in making and filling the Easter Bags on March 24, 2012 at 1pm-5pm.  Come for the whole four hours or come after your child’s afternoon nap.   It’s going to be a great opportunity to show children that they can make a difference.

I’ve got all the details up on www.owenslittlewarriors.com (a link is in the black header of the blog too).   Yes that’s right … the Little Warriors Website is officially launched as well!!!  Pre-registration for the event on the 24th is appreciated so we have an estimated head count of how many will be joining us.  But walk-ins are always welcome!!!

We made just under 300 ornaments in the first Little Warrior event … do you think we could make 500 Easter Bags??  It’s really all up to you!

Please feel free to email me or we.care.warriors@gmail.com if you have any questions.

Love, Mel

Today while working on a bunch of Little Warriors stuff (more details coming soon!) I had my iTunes playing in the background.  I had totally forgotten about this video until this morning.  I had to watch it again.  I’m so proud of Owen.  I’m proud to say that I am his mom.  I’m honored that God chose me as his parent.  I don’t know what I did to deserve him, but it must have been something good.  I’m certian I can say this about each of my four boys.  Even though Owen is gone, he’s one of the biggest blessings in my life.

As I pause from my work, I close my eyes and I just listen.  I listen to the sound of Tony’s voice, I listen to the words he sings.  I just take a minute to listen.  It gives me just a moment to find my balance again before facing the next challenge of the day.

Love, Mel

ps please forgive me for singing along

Depression or feeling lost has been a friend of mine since I was probably 13 years old.  I’ve always struggled with my self-image, what I wanted to do, belonging.  I’ve always questioned if I was serving my purpose in life.  I remember when I was first approached by my doctor about starting anti-depressants.  I thought it was going to change who I was … who God had designed me to be.  My pain was a part of me.  Was it right to change that pain?  To eliminate a part of me that felt the strongest?

An amazing friend took me out for dinner at Chi Chi’s (have no idea why I still remember that part of the story).  He told me that he lives with ADD … he took medicine to help him focus.  He never ever told anyone …. he was so embarrassed.  But it was at that moment that I realized I loved him even more for being honest about who he was, “flaws” and all.  It wasn’t something to be ashamed of.  It wasn’t something that changed who he was.  His soul was still present.  It helped him to be a better him.  It was just a means for him to be who God had made him.

So I found myself starting the anti-depressants my freshman year of college.  You know what?  I’m just a better me.  I’m a me that can get out of bed each day, who doesn’t get swallowed up in the pits of life.  The reality of it is though … the small pill doesn’t fix everything.  I still have my pits, my down falls and my really shitty days.  I have a week or two that I just don’t want to.  That’s just where I find myself right now.  But it’s a phase.  I won’t let it last forever.

I took a lot of time in college trying to figure out what made me happy.  I had to find a way to survive.  I couldn’t stop the waves of depression from taking hold of my life, but I could find ways that would help me kick it faster.  So I joined a step aerobics class.  Yep, on my lunch I was steppin’ to the oldies with some of my professors!  I started taking frequent trips to the craft store.  I remember painting dozens of little jewelry boxes.  I have no clue why, but it made me feel better.

Of course I tried other ways that didn’t work out like I had hoped.  I drank too much.  I tried to fix others rather than looking at myself. What do you really learn if you don’t fail first?  I learned to embrace my pain.  Embrace my short comings and the darkest part of my life.  When you embrace them, they become blessings.  They become the moments in life when God’s grace feels the closest.

So yes.  My mood stinks right now.  I don’t feel like I want to do much of anything.  BUT I am trying to find a way to kick myself out of it.  I see a grief counselor and I am open with her on how I am feeling.  Brutally honest.  The grief support group that Jaden and I attended in the fall is starting up again on Monday.  I have found 10 or 15 mins here or there to work on knitting some hats for the Craft Hope Project.  I talk with my husband when the kids are in bed.  I ask for extra hugs.  I call my mom … sometimes a few times a day.  I treat myself to a Starbucks coffee.  I keep myself busy … change the scenery every once in a while.  Like yesterday, the babies and I played in the basement rather than the living room … it was a change of pace.  Felt kind of nice.

I bear my soul on this blog.  I’m not 100% sure why.  Perhaps it’s because I know I’m not alone in the way I feel.  Perhaps it’s to let someone else know they aren’t alone.  Whatever the reason, it’s just sort of what I do.  My family has been through hell and back … we need to take care of each other.  Heck, you could say that about all of humanity.  We need to take care of each other.  That includes you taking care of yourself.  Whatever that might be … I hope you find it.

Love, Mel

Up until this morning I was thinking it was just exhaustion that was stealing my motivation. I just need a Mommy-cation and I’d be better.  But maybe, just maybe it’s been grief building up.  Maybe grief is the silent hole that has been sucking out my positive outlook and my “I can accomplish and do anything” thoughts.  I’ve totally lost my motivation.  Empty.

I found myself overwhelmed in church this morning with the pain that some of my family never met Owen.  They aren’t in my life to enjoy my three children on earth.  Hell, they have never even met Logan and Weston and some of them have never met Jaden.  They’ve missed it.  They missed Owen, they are missing my other three kids.  Why do I can so much?  Shouldn’t I be saying “it’s your loss?”  Why am I letting this get to me?

It’s not that I don’t know what I need to do … it’s that I just don’t want to.  I know that I need to put my “big girl pants” on and take care of the sick boys in my house (regardless of whether or not I”ve caught the cold myself).  They need me.  I know I need to find some sort of energy to keep up with the dishes.  I just don’t want to.  I want to lay on the couch.  I want to get lost in being Mel.  Whoever she is.  It feels like it’s been so long since I was allowed to just be Mel.  Get lost in my own thoughts and feelings.  But isn’t being Mel also being Mom?  Are they one in the same?  They don’t feel the same these days … mom sounds like something I just don’t wanna do.  Mel sounds like a long-lost memory.

Funny thing?  All I want to do is knit some hats.  That’s all.  Life just isn’t letting me do that.  The naps are too short.  When I put the kids down for bed at night I only seem to have enough time to do the dinner dishes before one of them is up.  When Doug volunteers to take a turn and rock Logan, and I have just sat down to pick up where I left off two days ago … Weston wakes up.

I just want some relief, a break from everything.  It just seems like there is a stronger power taking all those breaks from me.  Why is it so hard to just find time for myself?

I love my kids.  I really do … I feel guilty saying this but I just want to run from them.  They take up so much of my energy.  Is this a normal mom feeling?  Is this a normal grieving mom feeling?  Or is this some power I’m supposed to be changing and fighting off?  Do I give in and find time away … feeling guilty for running from my family.  Do I stick it out and hope it soon passes?

Wow.  Now that was a depressing post.  But it’s the way I’m feeling.  Life isn’t all roses and butterflies.  Even for those with faith.  We all lose our way.  It’s the giving it up that heals us.  I pray for the humbleness to hand it all over to God … to allow Him into my heart so He can start to heal me.  I pray for His wisdom and strength in my hour of darkness and feeling of loss.

It will get better.  I know it’s just a phase.  But the day is dark and the road is long …

Love, Mel