Goodbye 2018. Hello 2019.

I am not all that sad to leave 2018 behind me. But 2018 and the number 18 will now and forever be a vivid reminder of the two amazing people I had to say good bye to in that difficult year. It was a year that started with uncertainty and fear and left me with pain and heartbreak. In between I spent over 65 days in the hospital at the bedside of my youngest little boy. I found out about a diagnosis that changed our lives, and changed us as parents and as a family. It will forever be that year I rocked my sweet little boy as he gained his wings to heaven in July, and ever so unexpectedly lost my dad in November. That year I had to plan not one but two funerals. And the first of many years I spent the holidays with two empty chairs and a bag of mixed of emotions.

And still, through tremendous heartbreak and loss, I celebrated joy. I got to bring my sweet little boy back home from a 45 day stay in the hospital, so we could be a family again, even just for a short while. I rekindled and gained amazing and lifelong friendships. We planned and pulled off our first annual Birdie for Brecken golf tournament. I even met Garth Brooks!! I took one awesome trip with my dad and rest of my family to North Carolina, making lasting memories. And I got to stay home and be just a mommy to my boys, something I will forever cherish.

With joy and heartbreak I learned a lot about myself, about my relationships and marriage, and of course about being a Mommy:

*This year I learned the true meaning of incredible strength and abundant love. Actually Brecken taught me how to be strong. #breckenstrong. It is not easy to stay strong at your weakness. And I found a deep love and irreplaceable bond as a mom of a medically complex child who only has a short time on this earth. That love is true love. I became Mama Bear, fighting and loving this family I have with every ounce of my existence, while trying to stay strong through it all.

*Everybody needs a village. I have said it plenty times before, and I will say it again, my village is my everything. My family would never be able to do it without all of you and your love and support. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. From the calls and texts, lunch dates, gifts, money donations, beautiful flowers, and delicious food, I THANK YOU. But we continue to need you. We need you now and we will need you in the future. And I know we do.

*Grieving is hard. Grief is something so unique as a falling snowflake or the fingerprint on your finger. It is something I am learning how to do on my own time, my own way. It comes in waves and I never know what will trigger feelings. Grief doesn't have a timeline. Like I have said before, that hole in my heart will never go away. And I don't want it to, but I will take my time learning my grief pathway, hoping it gets a little easier day by day.

*I learned vulnerability. My blog has been a huge part of my grieving process. It has been a place for me to go to just let it all out, and allowing others into this unrealistic ever changing world. I have gotten so much wonderful feedback from so many of you! Who knows... maybe a book IS in my future?? Time will tell. And as the new year settles in, I hope to post more often, and about other topics. I have learned a lot about self love, self respect, and self care. Because I matter too.

**2018 changed me. I will never be the person I used to be. I am navigating a life without my baby and how genetics has changed our family in many ways. I find so much joy in spending time with Easton, but yearn for the family I have always dreamed of. But it is taking this new journey day by day. Minute by minute. Allowing my feelings and my grief to show me my path, while finding the happiness, laughs, joy, and love along the way.

2019. Be patient. Be gentle. Be kind. Please and thank you.

It Started With A Twitch...

December 28th, 2017. A day I will never forget. To most it was just another day in the midst of the holiday season, but for me it was the day that changed me as a person and a day that changed me as a Mommy. I had spent the day with my two little boys, enjoying the new presents after the fun little Christmas we had together. With a two and a half year old and a nine month old who was very attached to his mommy, life could get chaotic.  But, I was in love and I was happy and I was ready to bring on the year 2018.

And then that twitch happened. 

We had just finished giving the boys a bath and getting warm jammies on, ready to settle in for the night. As I was nursing Brecken to sleep I noticed his arm start moving. It was like a very rhythmic shoulder shrug in his right arm. And the first thing that my mommy gut (and maybe a RN background) thought was... its a seizure. The second thing I did was call my mom. After panic set in I called the nurse line. And when I lost control 911.

The paramedics came to our house to take a look at Brecken and gave us what felt was the worst advice in the world. "Just monitor it." Something did not feel right but I was outnumbered three to one and decided to just let it go and watch him overnight. Which now I realize I should have listened to my own instinct. Arrrrggggghhhhh. They left and we all fell back to sleep. A couple hours later I woke up and tried to wake Brecken up. The twitching had gone from his arm to his shoulder, back, other arm, and very quickly became his whole body.

And so we called 911 again. And the two EMT's that showed up the first time were at our house again. As much as I want to say they were helpful, they were not, and it was quite frankly the worst medical encounter of my life. When your world is turning upside down and your baby is not acting "normal" it would have been nice to have your feelings validated... but another day another story. Since we had a two year old sleeping at home, Brecken (and myself) took what seemed to be the longest ambulance ride ever to Children's Hospital in St. Paul. Watching my sweet little tiny boy seizing, strapped into the stretcher, knowing I couldn't hold him or help him was so hard. And I had NO idea what really was in store for him, me, and our family. 

The second we walked into the hospital, I swear there were angels around, they were disguised with nursing scrubs. The second one of the nurses laid eyes on my little boy, without hesitation, had me immediately pick him up and bring him to a room where they started work on him. Mommy gut was 100% right, he was having a seizure, and FINALLY I was being heard. They were starting IV's, taking labs, and giving medications. He was having full body seizures and they couldn't stop them. He got a CT scan and an MRI, and within just a few hours of being admitted, was in the PICU at Children's hospital, intubated (on a breathing tube), and extremely sedated. And I couldn't even hold him. 

I can vividly remember every second of this night like it was yesterday. It turned into being a horrible night and little did I know it was only the beginning. That day is when this crazy, emotional roller coaster of a new life started. This is why I am here now, the person I am today, sharing my story, and why this blog happened. Today, one year ago, is the first day of the many "firsts". And the first hardest day of the rest of my life. 

**For those of you that have been on this journey since day one, here we go again. For those of you who have joined along the way. Welcome, I am glad your here. Your my village. 
*Photo Credit : My awesome cousin Amy Knutson :)

Grieving Through the Holidays

I was not looking forward to the holidays. I was dreading it since the day I lost my little boy. And after the unexpected death of my dad, I really didn't want to celebrate anything at all. I was thinking all the stress and hype leading up to the days and events would be the worst of it. Having to encounter all the Christmas cheer, the holly jolly songs, the decorations and light displays. Last year I was so excited to start traditions with my boys. They loved Christmas. And I enjoyed watching them open gifts, decorating the tree, and watching the magic they brought to the season.

We had four different family celebrations to attend this year. I thought maybe since we would be doing so much traveling I would be too busy to get upset. I was trying to keep myself occupied by crafting the perfect gifts, making food, wrapping presents, and well just trying to remember my sanity. I was determined to make this holiday the best it could be for Easton. Because after all that is why we still went to go pick out a tree, made lots of delicious cookies, and visited Santa. To make this time magical for him. And I think it is safe to say that he was filled with joy this holiday season.

But as Christmas was wrapping up and the holiday was coming to an end. The grief and pain wrapped around me and put me in a choke hold. And I was done. My grief comes in waves. And often times, something so little can trigger feelings so ginormous. And all of a sudden I felt empty, and so alone. As I watched family get gifts they loved and enjoyed, I was reminded that the one thing I wanted most was the one thing I cant have. And that was my sweet baby boy.

Christmas will never be the same. And not a moment will go by where I wont think about my baby boy and how he should be here with me. How he could ever so simply fill my arms and bring back that missing joy. I am sure that over time, the holidays will get easier. But the hole in my heart will always be there, and so will that stocking for Brecken by the fireplace.

This year I just didn't feel the joy. And well, that's OK with me.

Photography Credit : Casie Carow Photography

My TWO Angels, We Miss You

On July 18 I lost my baby boy. And on November 18 I lost my dad. Losing your dad and your baby in four short months is extremely hard. But having to explain to your three year old that he lost his baby brother AND his Papa in just four months is unimaginably painful. I am pretty sure, somehow, I have convinced myself that I am dreaming. I am STILL waiting for that moment when my dad walks down the stairs with my sweet 21 month old boy and I WAKE UP.  I wake the @#&*% UP and stop living in a nightmare. 

Unfortunately, I am also fully aware that I wont wake up from this nightmare. This is my unfortunate reality. I am living, breathing, alive and trying to survive a nightmare. Something I absolutely hate to admit. Your body has this incredible way of putting yourself in "shock fog" after something so traumatic. I often find myself just going through the motions. Wake up, get dressed, eat, sleep, repeat. If only it could be that simple. Its not. Just when you think you might be able to start picking up the pieces, a tornado comes barreling in. This really really sucks. I can't sugar coat it, I can't tell you its anything else. It is unfair and it is unreal. My heart hurts so bad, it stings, and it's just so broken. The worst part about death and heartbreak, its irreversible.

Grieving is complicated. And it gets really complicated when you are blasted with two very close losses together. I often find myself grieving not only for myself but for my three year old, Easton. I am sad and angry for what he does or does not understand. I hate that my three year old wants to visit heaven. I get very sad when he asks where the stairs to heaven are. I do not like that he fears getting sick because sick people die and go to heaven. I do not like that he is so in tune to a funeral on TV and asking about the "special box" that is on display. And I am devastated for him that in four short months, he has had to say goodbye to two incredibly special people in his life.

I am not sure how much he really grasps at a three year old level. I have been truthful and real with him. I allowed him to say goodbye to his baby brother and his Papa, we talk about them often, and I answer the many, many questions that will pop up at random times of the day. I already miss the many days or yard work they had left to do, the numerous sky high Lego towers they needed to build together, the many little brotherly fights I am yearning to break up, and the messes they should be making together. I miss my dad, but what I miss more is Easton's Papa. I miss my baby boy, but I really miss Easton's little playmate. A little bit of me thinks that Brecken had a bigger part of my dads heart, that maybe they needed each other a little more than we could ever know. I hope they are mowing the heavenly lawns together. Building super tall Lego towers together. My dad snuggling his sweet grandson as he rocks in his rocking chair, giving those chubby cheeks and toesie bosies lots of kisses for me.

We may have two beautiful angels, but we miss these two here on earth an indescribable amount.
Love you Brecken boy. Love you Daddy.

To My Village, I Thank You

As the thanksgiving holiday approaches and I look at being thankful, I definitely have a lot to be thankful for in my life. If I look at the last year, I am having a hard time convincing myself I should "be thankful". As a grieving mom who lost a huge part of her heart, I often think being thankful just isn't right. I cant be thankful, I shouldn't be thankful. How can I be thankful this thanksgiving with a broken heart and half empty arms?

But I am. I am thankful for each and every one of you. As I have had the most difficult time getting thank yous cards out, there are special items and gifts around my house that remind me of my sweet angel, but also remind me that right now, this thanksgiving holiday, I am thankful for "MY VILLAGE". For every single one of YOU.

This last year, myself as well as my family, have been blown away by the amount of support and love that has been blasted our way. Whether that be a simple card saying hello or through the extremely generous donations, your thoughtfulness and generosity is astounding. From beautiful photography to blankets, handcrafted jewelry to paintings, wind chimes and garden art, cards and everything giraffe. From open arms and kleenex boxes,warm delicious meals, a listening ear or a hot cup of coffee, to phone calls and text messages. We are so grateful and blessed by your kindheartedness.

Most importantly, I want to thank you for reading this. I have been humbled by how many of you follow and read my blog. It has been a HUGE part of my grieving journey. It has been a place where I can go to be vulnerable and raw about my thoughts and feelings. And I appreciate your patience and support as I do that, because sometimes its really really hard. As time and feelings allow, I am hoping the posts will come more often. But keep checking in as I know many of you do!

I believe people walk in and out of our lives for a reason. So many of you have walked in the last year and have left huge footprints that will never be forgotten. For those of you who have been here from the beginning, our bonds only grow stronger. Our little Brecken angel will never be forgotten and is SO loved. It often brings me comfort knowing that when you see that little giraffe staring at you in the window, you tell me you think of Brecken. And that is just what I want to happen.

So this Thanksgiving be thankful. Thankful for those close to you. For those of you who keep me going, keep me up, and keep me moving. It might be minute by minute but I am thankful. I love you all. 
#MommingStrong

Living On Empty

Grief is hard to explain. It's hard to talk about. And we'll it's hard to do. It shows up at any second of any day and reminds you of that gigantic hole in your heart. The feeling of your empty arms and overwhelming pain. Grief is a journey. Mine started seven months ago. When Brecken started twitching as I was nursing him to sleep. Its been through his hospitalizations, diagnosis, illness, saying goodbye, and the days after he has gained his angel wings in heaven.

They say time will heal. I don't think my broken heart, my missing piece will ever heal. Over time it might get a bit easier to live with. But it's never going away. Nor do I want it to. I will never forget the 16 months I had with my sweet little Brecken. That hole is there to remind me of that. Some days are easier than others, some moments are unbearable, as if I might not know how to move on, and through this all, sometimes I find my joy and comfort.

I am not really sure if I even could come up with the right words to describe the grief you have after losing your baby. It really is indescribable. My grief is sadness and tears, joy and smiles, anger and doubt, worry and hope. My grief is the feeling of an apple corer to my chest. Grief is the confusion I feel going to the store to see the world seemingly just going on with life. Grief is visiting my baby's resting place and finding myself yearning for a shovel. Grief is the sadness of doing laundry to notice there are no little clothes to fold and put away. My grief through the conversations and phone calls and letting go of medical equipment. Grief is the nauseating lightheaded feeling I get as I watch the giraffes at the zoo. Grief is the hustle and bustle of packing everything we can into a day to keep ourselves busy. And some of the hardest grief is through the conversations and questions of an inquisitive three year old who wants to know where we can find the stairs to heaven.

I would have to say that this post was hard. That's why it might of taken so long. What I would give right now for one more snuggle, one more kiss, one more smile. Anything. Some days are better than others, but I miss Brecken so incredibly bad. Every second, every minute, every hour, of every day. I am grateful to have my spunky three year old to keep me going. To keep me smiling. He definitely knows how to keep my lap warm, my arms full, and my days busy.

The days are getting longer and quiet. The dread of the long cold winter season and the holidays is beginning to knock softly on the door. This journey of grief is just beginning. I am still learning as I meander my way through life and this path I found myself on. It might be a hard one. But I know my Sweet Brecken Angel is with me every step of the way. 

But they say GRIEF is LOVE. And well I have A LOT of love.💛💛💛💛