Happy Birthday My Three Beans

Happy Birthday Buddy

Happy Birthday Monkeys
Katie's Official 1st Birthday Picture

Emma's Official 1st Birthday Picture


A butterfly from Charlie's Butterfly release
The 5 of us

Today (okay, really this is November..let's pretend), is their birthday. It is filled with more emotion than one person should ever expierence at any given time. It is filled with extreme anxiety. I want their birthday party to be perfect. It is filled with joy. These babies have given me so much joy in their short little lives thus far. It is filled with sadness. I want there to be three little people smashing cakes with their names on them. It is filled with defeat. This is my life without him.
Last night was their first birthday party. We took cupcakes and balloons to Charlie and sang happy birthday to him. I had sang to him the day before. I needed to be the first person to sing to him. No one else was going to get that privledge. No one. As I sat next to him with his sisters, I spoke out to everyone around. I said: "This day, one year ago was the best and the worst day of my life. On that day, I met my three beautiful children. I also had to say goodbye. I spoke of how Charlie had changed my life. How I miss him. And how while I do not get to take care of him, I do have the privledge of taking care of his sisters. And I hope that I make him proud to call me his mom." Those standing around me agreed. Few had very little to add. We even took our second family photo. Not what we had ever envsioned, but none the less. Our family of 5 was in the picture. For, that is all I can ask. Once we left the cemetary we went back to my mom's house. Ate pizza and cupcakes. Celebrating the girls and all that they bring us each day. To end the evening we watched the movie Derek put together for their birthday. As Emma watched herself on the screen, she screached. As if she was saying, "hey that's me!".

I crept into where the girls were sleeping at midnight to sing happy birthday to them. I wanted to sing to them first on their actual birthday. Again, no one was getting that privledge.

As we left for the party with a million totes, boxes, and centerpieces in tow, I lost it. My sister hugged me, and I just lost it. No one understood why I made Derek wear a tie. Or why I wore a dress and did my hair and make up. The fact is, this had to be perfect. It had to be perfect because it was a celebration of my children. Children that without the help of medicine, I would never have. A son who is in Heaven. Two darling little girls who make me laugh and swell with pride. Overall, the party was good. Everyone seemed to enjoy it (for being a party for 3 One year olds). To conclude the party, we released 60+ balloons with birthday wishes to Heaven for Charlie. I watched the balloons leave my hands, reach the top of the building and that is it. I lost it. Paula hugged me and I sobbed. Not just weepy tears, but wailing, sobbing giant tears. While everyone was standing around, Derek's cousin grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the overlook. In the field was a single deer. Grazing in the field. This might seem silly to most, but it was 4 o'clock in the afternoon. It was a very unusual time for a deer to be out and about. It was obvious everyone was thinking (hoping) it was Charlie making sure we knew he was there with us.

Of the past 365 days since Charlie died, that day, I felt him everywhere. He was the single deer in the field. He was the voice in my head saying "Mom, relax, it will be okay". He was the last blue balloon floating in the cieling when all of the other decorations were put away and gone.
Emma and Kate were so ovewhelmed with all of the people and screaming kids. They both sat in the middle just watching. Especially Miss Emma. Kate was feeling a little more insecure with the chaos. She clung to me quite a bit.

They recieved pretty spectacular gifts. Of all of the gifts they could get, the gift of love is the most special. As I stood looking around at the swirling group of 60 something people, I realized that my children are extremely loved. We have some very special people in our lives. (including our friends who surprized us driving all the way from Ohio to celebrate with us.) How lucky are we?!

Ignorance is Bliss

Approximately today a year ago is when Charlie was rolling around and pinched his cord. Little did we know that he had died. We were blissfully awaiting for our weekly appointment and NST. As his mother, I wonder how I didn't know. How did I not realize he wasn't moving anymore. How did I not realize that my little boy had died. What I do know is that I was still feeling movement. Everyone seemed to be their active little selves. I go back to the days before we were told he died and try to figure out when exactly it happend. I've, at times, driven myself crazy trying to pin point it. There wasn't any specific "thing" that happened that would have alarmed me. I wasn't really feeling good on Sunday. That makes me wonder if maybe he didn't really pass away then. As far as Dr. Stewart could tell, Charlie passed away sometime on Monday 9/20. He guessed this by the peeling he had around his nose. I wonder if they had done an ultrasound at that Monday appointment, would they have found his heart had stopped then? We will never know. I don't know that it would matter if we did know.

I have to accept this is my reality. I don't want to. I can't accept this is my reality. My son did not die. He couldn't have. Maybe this is just some weird nightmare between reality and fantasy. Perhaps I am just in some bizarre other dimension. Mother's are not supposed to bury their children. I shouldn't be taking him cupcakes and balloons that he will never enjoy. There shouldn't be a little gray stone as the only physical proof he was alive ever.

I hate this. I hate everything about this. I want my son. I want to hold my son and tell him every day that I love him. I want to kiss my son on his perfect little lips like I do his sisters each day. I want to tickle his little round belly and hear him laugh. I want to feel his little boddy against mine as I read them a bedtime story each night. I want him to rest his little head against my chest so I can stroke his dark brown hair. I want to see what color his eyes would have been.

No matter how much I want, it won't happen. It can never happen.

Instead, I will take cupcakes to his small plot in the cemetary and sing happy birthday to him. I will tie balloons on his shephard's hook. I will take little pumpkins, fall flowers, and halloween decorations and place them on his grave. I will sit next to his small space and cry wishing this wasn't reality.

Ignorance really is bliss.

11 Months...Wowzers

The monkeys are 11 months old. It is like something switched on. They are pulling up on everything. Chatting away. Crawling on their knees (although, not all of the time). Miss Katie bug is trying to climb up the stairs. They are eating almost everything. Chicken, veggies, crackers, cheese, yogurt, etc. We've started working on getting rid of the bottles. They will drink out of the soft sippy cups, but haven't quite gotten the hang of the hard ones. But, I think they are certainly on their way.