Why its sad

This probably seems like a no-brainer.  The fact that I am sad on Rip's birthday, that is. But its more than the fact that he is not here to celebrate it...I deal with that kind of sad every day.  Note that I did not say that every day is sad, I have lots (more than not) of wonderful, happy days.  Its just that each of those days I carry with me the fact that my son is not here.

When I was a little girl, every night before my birthday, my dad would tell me the story of how I was born.  The lead up (my mom eating cheesecake and watermelon just beforehand), the wait (aka my dad took pictures in the hall while my mom labored for hours and eventually had a c-section), and finally the big reveal (a little girl, surprise!).

Every person has a birthday story. A story of when your life changed the lives of your whole family. What makes me sad on Rip's birthday is that his birthday story was such a happy one.  On any other given day, I can say "well at least I know things are better than they were three years ago".  Except on the night before Rip's birth and the day after.  Those days were happy, so exciting.  The pictures we have from those days show nervous, excited first time parents about to have their lives changed.  Those pictures show our families with huge grins on their faces. They show a perfectly healthy little boy. Those were happy, happy days.

Parke and my biggest statement about Rip's life is that he is A Good Thing. He will always be A Good Thing.  We are trying hard to make our lives reflect his as A Good Thing.  But while I cherish his birthday as A Good Thing, it still makes me sad, and it is much, much harder on me than the day he died. So that is why yesterday was sad, but my sincere hope is that we will find a way that it won't always be so.  Thank you so much to all of the people who reached out yesterday and remembered our boy on his big day, it helps more than you know.

My Person

"For where you go, I will go and wherever you live, I will live.  Your people shall be my people and your God my God"
Ruth 1:16

Happy Birthday, my Rip.  Wherever I am, there you will also be.
I love you so, so much.

Four Hundred

This is my 400^th (okay, 401^st) post on this blog.  I didn’t really start writing until after Rip died, so going back over some of my older posts today got me thinking about the past three years.

I realized that one thing grief did was give me the ability to be wide open.  Especially in that first year, I could have cared less about what anybody thought about the way I was feeling.  My grief for Rip was so all-consuming I literally did not have the ability to think about other people outside of my little family I was trying so hard to put back together.

I go back and read some of what I wrote and know that I could not write it now.  Over the past three years, as that all consuming grief has subsided so has my ability to write so openly about what is going on in my head.  Don’t get me wrong, I still try my hardest to be honest and “real”…but there is a certain amount of privacy that I think we all strive for even when we choose to blast our lives out on the Internet.

I’m so glad that sense of self-preservation left me when it did.  When I wrote how much the day sucked and the arguments Parke and I had after Rip died, that is exactly what was happening.  When I wrote about the gripping, strangling fear I felt being pregnant with Gracie, that’s exactly what I was feeling.  When I wrote about the ways I felt God touch my life during those first twelve months, I was hanging on with everything I had to believe them.

I know I would not be able to see the transformation that happened and has continued to happen in my life over the past three years, my life that has been transformed by one baby boy, if I had not written about it then.

For three years I have been writing about Rip.  That is almost 1095 days longer that he lived on this earth.  But his name has lived on through writing about him, he has lived on in us since writing this first post…and, yes, these days the good outweighs the bad.

After

I used this blog as a way to vent through my pregnancy. We lost our little boy, my perfect Rip, eight days ago. There is nothing I can say to express how heartbreaking, devastating that has been. There are no words to adequately say how much he was and is loved, how he taught Parke and me more about life in seven days that we ever thought was possible. All I can say about Rip is that from the minute he was born he was a miracle.

Today is my 30th birthday, a day I was dreading so much. Yesterday (Thanksgiving), was much harder than I thought it would be...the holidays have always been such a fun and exciting time for me, the loss of Rip was almost too much to bear during a time I am used to being so happy.

This morning I woke up, made Parke coffee (something I have started doing since we lost the baby), got back in bed and cried. Parke comforted me, told me it was okay to cry. My mom called to plan our day of Black Friday shopping, everyone just wants to make it better. I buried my head down deeper in the covers and decided maybe I could just skip my 30th birthday all together.

Then the dog threw up. In the bed.

Parke ran to get paper towels, tripped and fell down the steps.

So there I was, no option but to get up and deal with my sick dog, groaning husband, and soiled bed spread. And I think that is what life, and yes, God, gives us. We can be in the worst situation imaginable and life makes us get up and clean up dog puke.

I am still lonely, confused, and so so sad. I am also, at times, hopeful and thankful. I am going to try to keep up this blog during my 30th year. I want to see how much my life changes by the time I turn 31. I hope to have love, laughter, and maybe even a baby to fill my year. For now, the bad outweighs the good, but there is some good. By this time next year I pray, pray, pray the good will outweigh the bad.

Thanksgiving for Halloween

There is a lot a want to say with Rip's birthday coming up one week from today, and all of the things that are going on inside of my head...but for now, I am just going to put up a bunch of Halloween pictures.  Because I think it is important to know that even with the sadness that comes with this time of year, there is also a lot of joy.

It all started with Gracie's school costume parade...she looks happy here, but she was kind of a nervous wreck

Thankfully, Dorothy was thrilled with her red sparkly shoes

Not to mention her candy

Even the boys joined the fun

Gracie's Pop reeeeaaaally got into it

Mama, Mam, and SuSu had the good sense to go with "the pretty witch" approach

I think she was in sugar shock...

The next day, Pop (my dad) volunteered to watch Gracie.  I was skeptical of his approach...

but it seemed to do the trick

All in all, we couldn't have asked for a better weekend

So Very Thankful.

I wish I'd never asked...

Last night, as we were riding in the car home from dinner, I suggested we play a little game. You know, to build up the ego a bit. I would name the celebrity that Parke looked most like, and then he would do the same. I (generously) said that Parke looked most like Mel Gibson (pre-crazy) or Daniel Craig.  With no hesitation, Parke said I looked most like "that kid from Third Rock from the Sun".

That'll teach me not to explain the rules.

The State of Me...Year Three

It seems so strange to me that I was in the hospital three years ago.  I mean, I know a lot has happened since then, but three years is a long time.  Sometimes it seems like yesterday.

But I can tell a big difference in the way I feel this year, as opposed to last year and certainly compared to the first year.  I know many of the people who read this blog have also lost a child, so I like to do updates from time to time about what my loss looks like at such and such point.  It's what I wanted to know after we lost Rip.

One thing that surprises me a little is how constantly my mind is on my son.  I mean, he is my child and I will always love him as a mother loves her child, but there is still no day where I don't actively think of him.  Every single time I see the numbers 11/11 (which continues to happen quite a lot), I say "Hey Buddy, I love you!"  I wonder sometimes if I will be saying that when I am eighty years old...I think probably so.

It still stings when people point out Gracie as an only child, or say things like, "Wait until you have two!"...not because they are wrong.  Gracie has only child syndrome and I know my world will be turned upside down if and when we have another child.  It stings because I do have two children, and they would not be saying those things if Rip had lived.

But I've notice a big shift this year, more than the past two years, towards healing.  Sometime recently I was thinking of Rip, and I had a very vivid, sad moment of how much we have lost.  It physically hurt me, and I found myself saying out loud "this will pass, this will pass." And it did.  I knew I would slip back into being "okay" again.  And then I thought about right after Rip died and how it must have hurt like that all of the time in those first few months.  So I want to tell anyone going through that now, the extreme, excruciating pain will pass.

October and November reminds me of my baby boy, but (I think) in a healthy way.  I feel more in tune to him this time of year, as if the excitement of the holidays is somehow connected to his birth.  There are plenty of things that hurt, the biggest of which will always be that I cannot squeeze him to me and tell him how much he is loved, but as I've always said I want the life of my family to be a celebration of Rip's life. He deserves to be celebrated.

So, the "state of me" in year three, is a constantly evolving one. But I find myself having fun, looking forward to life, and being able to make Rip a part of that life even as it moves forward. I find myself concentrating on the good.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
Philippians 4:8

Foodie Follow Up

I got some great responses to my plea for help in the kitchen a couple of weeks ago.  Lots of emails, comments and suggestions.  While I by no means could be counted as someone who knew what she was doing in the kitchen, I am trying!

Here are the three main things I gleaned from the advice I was given:

- The crockpot is your friend.  Use it often.  This is my new favorite activity...I run home at lunch, throw a bunch of stuff in the crockpot and by the time I get home the house smells great.  This time of year especially I love that homey feeling I get when I walk in and smell something cooking.

- Wine is an even better friend.  And if you don't (or can't) drink, find some other way to treat yourself while you are in the kitchen.  For me personally, a nice glass of red wine or a pumpkin-something beer makes this whole cooking thing fairly tolerable.  I've also been saving some of my favorite shows on the DVR that Parke won't watch with me (Hello, Nashville and Greys Anatomy, I've talking to you!) and saving it for the "me" time in the kitchen.  This scatters unwanted visitors fairly quickly.   Also, I still love McDreamy and don't care who knows it.  Did you know Christina is leaving the show?  Devastation.  This is another blog post in and of itself.

- Pinterest!! If you don't have a Pinterest account get one immediately.  This week we have had two Pinterest meals loved by both husband and baby.  A miracle on 1322 Fairmont Street.

I've also really become a label reader when it comes to what I am feeding my family.  Which, to be honest, kind of ticks me off.  I mean, here we are working, mom-ing, wife-ing etc. etc....is it really too much to ask just to be able to walk into the grocery store and pick up food without worrying about what is in it that might kill us all?  Like seriously, apparently that really is too much to ask?!

Hopping off my soapbox, I do want to say thank you for all of your help...the Harris food revolution has begun and I could not have done it without you!!