Survival of the Fittest, or Not

I read a quote today, and immediately in my mind I thought, Fuck Yeah.

 “You never need to apologize for how you chose to survive.”

If this isn’t one of the most honest and real things I’ve ever read in my life, I don’t know what is.

You couldn’t imagine the things I’ve had to do to get myself through the 24th hour in the day. Or the incessant pep talks I’ve had to have within myself. To keep going. Pushing. Fight to live another day, etc.

So it’s infuriating to me when someone who has never come anywhere close to the excruciating pain that is found in burying your own child, has the nerve to give you what they believe are helpful suggestions about life. More specifically, your life.

How on God’s living earth would you have any idea of what is going to be helpful?

Please, enlighten me.

Tell me again why you think I (or any other parent in my position) should believe that everything happens for a reason. Or why the drinking of an entire bottle of wine by myself should be taken in stride?

What in all the actual fucks is a stride, when you’re in my position?

This is a serious question for me. Please, you literal ass hat you, help me answer this.

Oh wait, you can’t.

So please, stop trying. Stop doing. Stop thinking you know what’s best for someone when you have no idea what is actually working for them.

You couldn’t imagine what works for me. What has worked for me. And you don’t need to. Because it’s for me. Not you.

It is not the strongest of the species that survive, nor the most intelligent, but the one most responsive to change. – Charles Darwin

2015 has changed me. It’s altered me. Both good and bad. I cannot change that. But please understand, that I will always respond in a way that will return my dividends tenfold.

And I’ve found more strength during my weakest moments than you could ever imagine.

Still

Hands
Put your empty hands in mine
And scars
Show me all the scars you hide
And hey, if your wings are broken
Please take mine so yours can open too
Cause I’m gonna stand by you

Oh, tears make kaleidoscopes in your eyes
And hurt, I know you’re hurting, but so am I
And love, if your wings are broken
Borrow mine so yours can open too
Cause I’m gonna stand by you
Even if we’re breaking down, we can find a way to break through
Even if we can’t find heaven, I’ll walk through hell with you

I don’t do well with excuses anymore. Not at work, not in my relationships, and really just not in life in general.

I’ve gotten to the point where I just won’t even accept them. But I will politely call you out on them. And when you try to push back and give me another excuse, I will graciously advise you of my own circumstances.

This will undoubtedly shut you up.

Or so I’ve found.

But I say that to say, I have every reason in the book to use every excuse under the sun as to why I’m not doing something. Or the flip side, why I am choosing to do something that would be completely self-destructive.

You’ll never hear any of those from me. I don’t have them.Not anymore.

I believe in full disclosure and complete ownership. Because I make the choice everyday to find something positive in my life. And t0 find something positive in every negative situation I experience. It’s not always easy. Some days I have to consciously do it, but yet and still, I do.

Growth doesn’t always come from success. In fact, it hardly ever does. Growth comes from failure. From falling. Rock bottom can sometimes be the only soft place left that we have to fall.

So even when it hurts to own who we are, what we’ve been through, and the pain that we’ve left in our wake of fury, I firmly believe that feeling the hangover of life the next morning, sure beats the hell out of feeling nothing at all.

#allthefeels

 

 

Relapse

It’s 4 am, and I’m officially up for about the 6th time tonight.

Awesome.

Being sick is the absolute worst, and I forgot just how much worse a cold feels when you’re back in a less than warm environment. So, instead of laying in bed wishing I could fall back asleep, and that the fire in my throat would dissipate just a little, I figured I’d make this additional time useful and write.

Writing seems to be happening so few and far between these days, as you’ve probably noticed.

I’m not sure if it’s because this new role at work is more demanding of me than my last. Or if I write less because I feel less. Either way, I’m trying to make a conscious effort to do better.

Odd right, that I could feel less. Or not really odd, I suppose it’s actually normal. Or so I’ve been told. And it’s not that I feel less. I think the intensity behind it all has just started to ease a bit. I’m not entirely sure how long that will last with the holidays right around the corner, and Kamren’s 1st birthday quickly approaching. I really don’t even wanna begin to anticipate that, so I honestly just try not to.

I think that’s where my job becomes handy. It allows me to consume myself for a good 55-60 hours each week, making it almost impossible to dwell. Dwelling is still such a bad idea at this stage in the game.

Ironically though, there are moments that I feel such extreme guilt for not dwelling. Most people won’t understand that. After all, why would I want to dwell on something that literally and physically causes my chest to tighten and cracks every remaining piece of my heart back open.

But I don’t look at it that way. I can’t.

I dwell because those 16 days that I physically had my son in my arms, have literally got to last me a life time. Think about that. An entire lifetime. In 16 short but amazing days.

I don’t have the opportunity to forget any moment, any smell, any feeling. Anything really. Because I do not have the luxury of recreating them with him.

And the idea that I might forgot something, scares the living shit out of me.

It seems like the more time that moves forward without him, the more distant these memories become. That in and of itself has the ability to bring me to my knees. If there is nothing else on earth I want to remember, I need to remember, it’s everything about that little boy.

Nothing will ever be as good as him to me.

He is literally my heroin fix when the methadone stops working.

The drug that both keeps me alive, and teeters on taking my life in the exact same moment.

Scary huh?

Yeah, that’s a good word for it. Scary.

But yet and still, I’m not scared.

Not anymore.

I don’t think I have anything to be scared of at this point in my life. Even with all the hate that is happening in the world today. And I don’t want to come across insensitive, because Lord knows I’m not. But when you’ve laid your heard on my child’s belly while doctors fought to get him breathing again, and watched in disbelief as his heart stopped and yours kept beating, there isn’t really much else that seems scary.

Even Paris honestly.

And again, I don’t want to seem insensitive. What happened there is horrendous and disgusting. But at the same time, I don’t know that I would be sad if that had been me there and I lost my life. I’m okay with that. I’m good with that.

And let me preface this with saying that I am in no way, shape, form or fashion suicidal. Trust me, that ship sailed a long time ago. That would’ve happened January 8th of this year, if it were going to happen at all. But…actually just but. There isn’t a lot to follow that up with.

Don’t get me wrong, I know there’s so much left for me to contribute to this world while i’m here, I really do. But on the flip side of things, what honestly would be so bad for me to finally go home? I mean literally, home. Back to the place of pure and infinite love. The place where my son resides without me.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I embrace that side of life now, because I fully and firmly believe that there is more than life there. I know without a doubt, that the only thing there is love.

And I don’t know about all of you personally, but for me, that is the end goal.

Love is the goal.

Love is just everything.

And I mean, everything.

Like You Prayed I’d be

Every day at noon like a chapel bell, find her Jesus keep her well
Help her do more right than wrong at the end of the day
I got 5 good years and a tank of gas, fifty watts and Johnny Cash
A guitar and a broken heart just full of things to say
You taught me how to stand those tests and trials
But you can’t see a desert sunrise in the bible

If I’d have done what you and daddy done, I would have never lost and never won
Or gotten myself kicked when I was down
I would not know how to travel well, A hundred bucks and cheap motels
I would not know how to fight for my own heart next time around

Now don’t you cry another night about me
In this city I’ve got angels all around me

She loves me more that anything
And she wants the world for me
Hey Mama I’m OK out here
I’ve seen how hard the world can be
My step is sure and I know my name, And I’m strong just like you prayed I’d be.

I felt it every time you prayed for me
I’m strong just like you prayed I’d be

So, it’s been a while since I’ve written on here. Not really a while since I’ve written in general, but definitely on here.

I could give you a multitude of reasons why, since the laundry list that has encompassed my life over the last month has been seriously mounting. But I won’t. I’ll just fill your ever inquiring minds with the latest updates now.

Here goes.

I am officially living back in Kansas (woot, woot!) and it is seriously the happiest I’ve been since the evening of January 7th.

My house is finally coming together, and I couldn’t be more pleased. I am literally unpacking my guest room as I type this. My new guest bed will be delivered on Saturday morning, so I can no longer keep shutting that door and pretending like the mess behind it doesn’t exist.

God, that’s such a good way to describe how my life in Florida was going this summer.  The messy shoved behind a slammed door, hidden away by a perfectly organized demeanor. Luckily, I can say that this phase is officially coming to an end, in all senses.

Work has been crazy hectic, and I spend more time there than anywhere else at this point. I also love it. The chaotic, confusing, messy world of training. It’s just such a good energy for me and my life right now. I feed off it. But I will say, running around all day, for 9+ hours, definitely leaves me exhausted at the end of the day. Both physically, mentally, and emotionally. That’s been a bit of an adjustment, but again, one I’ve been more than happy to make.

All the long hours have also been good for my pockets, which are more than hurting after picking up my life and moving it halfway across the country in a week’s time. It will probably take me another month or two to recover financially and rebuild my savings, but no matter what happens, I know I’ll be okay.

Somehow I always am.

Lola also seems to love everything about Kansas thus far. I’m pretty sure she’s soaking up all this amazing fall weather with me. I have a sinking suspicion that she will not be so pleased once winter comes and the snow begins falling. I’m literally gonna have to buy her a sweater since she’s so short haired. She’s probably gonna hate me. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

Luckily, or maybe unluckily, I haven’t had to have the conversation too many times about my son with my new coworkers. I got lucky in the fact that I knew some of my current peers previously from the Kansas City office, and they were already up to date on everything. That made the transition easier.

Ironically my son has come up multiple times this week, specifically when helping to comfort two of my new hire reps that are dealing with similar situations. One miscarried her third child late last week, and the other lost his 4 year old nephew to a congenital heart defect on Sunday. Being able to really be the authentic and forever grieving mama that I am, was probably one of the biggest contributions I’ve been able to bring to my new office thus far. I’ve literally been the “expert” in more than just my standard work obligations. That feels good. That helps me. Probably more than it honestly helped them. But it let’s me know that doing this, making this move, picking up my life yet again, was not a mistake.

I still don’t know what the rest of my life will hold, or who will eventually be a part of it. But somehow, in the middle of all of the chaos of the past year, I think I’ve managed to find myself exactly where I’m supposed to be. Exactly where my Kamren would want me.

And as a mom, that’s all I really want. To be where my son needs me to be to continue to spread his legacy.

It’s so much bigger and greater than mine could’ve ever been alone.

Stitches

October.

This has always been one of my most favorite months of the year. The summer air fades, and the beginning of the fall crispness shows up. The leaves turn all shades of red, orange, and yellow, becoming a little crunchy under your feet.

Let’s also not forget about the fact that October also ushers in the most favorite season of all my basic white girls out there; Pumpkin Spice everything!

But, October this year has brought on an entirely different meaning for me.

It is the official month of pregnancy, stillbirth, and infant loss awareness. 1 in 4 women will experience one of these harrowing events. 1 in 4 will become a statistic. They will have to say goodbye entirely too soon, and somehow find a way to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

1 in 4 will become me.

I AM 1 in 4.

I am now, and forever will be, a statistic. Of the worst possible kind. I wish I could be a statistic of any other kind.

But I can’t.

Because I am already 1 in 4.

With that being said, I am 1 in 4 that will spend this month speaking my son’s name. Even more than usual. To the point of annoyance probably.

But guess what? I do not give a damn. Not one single, solitary damn.

Because I am 1 in 4.

My son, is 1 in 4.

Kamren Grey is 1 in 4.

So this month, if you know someone who is also 1 in 4, just hug them a little bit tighter. Love them a little bit harder. Speak their child’s name a little bit louder. A little more frequently. I promise they’ll squeeze back just as hard mid-hug.

And through the tears that will build in their eyes and fall down their cheeks, there will also be a smile. Of love. And gratitude. For you. For remembering that they are 1 in 4. For acknowledging that their child’s life, no matter how brief, was very real. And exceptionally important. Even more important than those PSL’s that will be around until Christmas.

A child that loses a parent, is called an orphan. A spouse that loses their partner, is a widow. There is not a name for a parent that loses a child. That’s how awful it is. 

“I have a son named Kamren”

There’s another blog that I follow & am absolutely obsessed with, Scribbles & Crumbs.

It’s obviously another loss mama. And her words just always resonate so much with me, and for me.

She posted a picture of her little boy tonight, with a caption that followed, “I have a son named Charlie….”

Even if I didn’t know Charlie’s story, and know how that caption would end, just reading that out loud caused an entire shift in me. And I immediately followed that by saying to myself, I have a son named Kamren. Then turning to Lola and saying, “you have a brother named Kamren.”

Tears followed.

They always do.

It’s amazing how six little words can do that. How they can mean so much, and hurt all at the same time.

Knowing that this is a statement that I’ve said at least a thousand times, and will have to continue to say a million more over the course of this lifetime seems daunting. It is daunting. Life in general, without him, is daunting.

Tonight has been especially so.

And not for any particular reason, other than it is.

It always catches me a little off guard when a night like this comes around though. Even though it shouldn’t I guess. It’s bound to happen, no matter how smooth the sailing seems to be going. These waves always find a way to come crashing in. Over the guard rails, and under the decks. Like a caged bird between the buildings and fences.

It comes, and I’m here to answer to it. For it.

I always will. I don’t think that I have much of a choice in the matter honestly. I don’t know that I’d say no if I did.

Answering this call is the price of my love for him. So I’ll pick up that receiver like I’m expecting a call from Donald Trump telling me he’s decided to move to Mexico and leave his money to me.

I know reading this, you won’t understand. Honestly, I hope you never do.

“And can it be that in a world so full and busy, the loss of one small creature makes a void so wide and deep that nothing but the width and depth of eternity can fill it?” – Charles Dickens

Yes, yes it can be.

And yes, yes it is.

Congratulations

It must feel good digested to be so damn aggressive
But the pounding in my chest is, begging for protection
You think you’re innocent, pure gold and heaven sent
But, my tears are instruments, they sound like consequences

Help me find a sharper knife
I need to cut you out my life
I take it all, I let it slide
But hey, you went too far this time

Congratulations, got what you wanted, you’re winning now
Congratulations, you got your shot and you wore me down
But I really don’t think you get it now

I’ve gone back and forth all morning with how I’ve wanted to start this blog, and whether I wanted to be petty. But being petty is thankfully no longer part of my character, so I won’t. I will just say that it amazes me how the one person who should be going through this unbearable journey with me, has now stooped so low as to throw other women, more specifically their vaginas, in my face.

#IveMovedOn & #Inolongercarewhoyousleepwith.

The issue that I do have though, and the reason that I mention it at all, is that those things were said to intentionally hurt me. Which is low. And which baffles me. Which shows me what type of heart you actually have buried under that rock-solid wall you’ve build around it.

But comma however, for those comments to have worked, I would need to still be in love with you, which I’m not. Which I haven’t been. So close kiddo, but no cigar.

And even more than that, if I was to be petty, I would have hurt your soul with truth that you couldn’t handle. But Jesus is working in my life, so we’ll leave that be.

But moving on, literally.

Yesterday marked 8 months since the day I hate most in the entire history of this world. Sometimes I can’t believe I’ve made it 8 months from that day, since initially I didn’t want to take one breath past it. There’s still a multitude of days when I don’t want too. But I do. I’ve become quite good at it actually.

Sometimes that in and of itself hurts. It’s almost like I’m being unloyal to my son. To really live and breathe again. But then I see his smiling face in my dreams and I know it’s not. And I’m not. #totalmindfuck

Sunday I went to his grave as per usual, to take fresh flowers and clean everything up. That morning another little boy was buried in front of him. He was only 5 days old. Part of me is so happy that I decided to take Lola to the park first, that way I didn’t get there while his services were happening. Another part of me wishes I would have been there just to hug his Mama, and tell her that I really do understand. And that there is still life moving forward. Even is she doesn’t want it right now and spends her time wishing it away. That I’d wait for the sun with her. And that it would eventually come. Eventually.

And with that, I’m reminded that I have a bigger purpose in all of this. That this life is no longer my own, and belongs to all of these mothers like me. That my son redirected my steps. And maybe not in a direction that I like or that has been comfortable. But one that I needed. One that has helped put me back on the map to my own soul. One that is guaranteed to get me back to him one day.

So I’ll follow that yellow brick road from here to the end. Knowing that I’ve already found courage, truth, and love without Oz.

#theresnoplacelikehome

Where the Heart Is

When I moved to Florida a little over three years ago, I had no idea what I was coming too. Literally. I just kind of picked up my entire life and allowed my job to relocate me half a country away from all the people I love most.

With that being said, I really have come to love Tampa. I’ve created so many amazing memories here, with even better people than I deserve. And more than anything, Florida is the only place that my son ever knew as home. He spent his entire life here, and rests peacefully still. Here. Under this ever burning Florida sun.

But Florida isn’t my home. Not anymore anyways. Not without him.

I literally still have my driver’s license, car tag, and insurance registered in Kansas. After 3 years.

I think I’ve always known that Florida would just never actually be home for me. Not permanently anyways.

So I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately. And what I’m still doing here. Mostly alone.

First I stayed when I realized I was pregnant with Kam, obviously wanting to raise him with his daddy, even though I hated being away from my own family.

Then when we lost him, I stayed for his Dad. I couldn’t imagine losing him too. And I wanted to hold on to the only part of my little family I had left. But then I realized that he was not my family, nor did he want to be.

So then I stayed for the potential with my job, and the new opportunities. But after finding out that I will not be promoting in any real manner, and will be doing my exact same job with a mild tile change and possible pay incease, I’m realizing that I still have nothing to stay here for. Professionally I’m past the point of being unfulfilled.  And with it looking like there still may not be any growth in my current role, I’m no longer sure what I’m waiting for.

I spend the majority of my time here physically alone, and just on the phone with my friends and family back home. Mostly wishing I was home with them, and getting to be a part of all the daily haps. And the more and more I think about it, the more I cannot find a real reason why I haven’t made my way back there.

Maybe I’ve been afraid that it would seem like I was failing at life. At being on my own. But I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. I’ve been through and survived more than most would be able to, with literally no one physically by my side. I think I’m about over that. I’m ready to be back where my heart it. Where it’s always been.

I’m not sure if I’ll be able to come back to KC with my job, but I know at the least, I’ll be able to get back to Wichita. And that’s not too far off. With a very short commute back home to Mamas.

I think I’m gonna ride out the next couple of months and see if any form of change that would make me want to stay comes. Plus I’m in a lease until the beginning of next year. But I don’t think I’ll sign another one. I think it might be getting close to the time to start clicking my heels again.

There really is no place like home.

I think maybe it’s time to start finding my way back there.

Oh, August

August has been an interesting month to say the very least. Mostly good. A little bad. A lot of exhausting, both physical and emotional.

Let’s start with the good.

It has been 100% confirmed that the promotion opportunity I’ve been waiting for since I left for my maternity leave with Kam, will officially come into play by Q4. Meaning, I will have the opportunity to prove why I’m best for the role coming next month, and hopefully be starting it by October. I’m extremely hopeful, but even more than that, I’m confident. I’m great at my job, and I am definitely a strong candidate for the position from what I’ve been advised. This project my senior manager put me on is also a great thing to have in my back pocket, since it is actually directly related. I think that’s a good sign since he likes to place people in roles to groom them. I think he might be doing that with me. Hopefully anyways.

I’ve also been working crazy long hours, which is actually a good thing. Both for my mind and my bank account. Being in the office for almost 12 hours a day does not leave much time for my mind to be consumed with much else, and currently, that’s a good thing. It also means lots and lots of overtime,  and a very nice overtime rate. This is definitely something I need after having to purchase new furniture yesterday. Thanks Lola! Technically is wasn’t really her fault, but after attempting to clean up my couch after her, and having my washer seriously fail me, I really had no other choice. My new set is amazing though and I’m extremely excited to have it delivered on Saturday. I’ve been saying I want new furniture for a while now, and I’ve been told by both my therapist and friends who’ve been through child loss, that redecorating can be very helpful in the overall healing process. Either way,  I can’t wait to take a nap on it. I also need to find a new home for one of my favorite arm chairs, since I don’t think I am going to have any space for it once the new stuff is delivered. We’ll see what happens. Anyone directly in need of furniture in Tampa let me know. I’m pretty sure it needs to go.

I’ve also been consistently going back to church, which is a very big thing for me. I absolutely didn’t lose my relationship with Christ after I lost Kam. In fact, it was the opposite. It grew and became more real. But I could not bring myself to get back into the church. It was just too much for me, and honestly I didn’t think any sermon could address the weight of what I was feeling. I’m thankful to have met someone who I now consider a friend, through my son’s service actually, and have to credit him for so much of my spiritual growth. Also getting me back into the church in general. If it wasn’t for his consistent talks and urging, and just general caring about my well-being and relationship with God, I probably wouldn’t be where I’m at in this moment. And I know he will never take credit for it, but I owe a lot of it to him. So for that I’m thankful. And for that, I hope he knows that he’s touched my life in so many great ways.

August 15th was also an incredibly important day in my life. Not only was it my own mama’s birthday, but it was also Kam’s daddy’s birthday as well. I’ve always thought that was special. That two of the people I love most in the world were born on the same day. I still think it is. They’ve both shaped my life in so many ways, and honestly without either of them, I wouldn’t have life. Without my mama I obviously wouldn’t be here today, or be half the woman that I am. She’s taught me everything I know, but mostly just how to love fiercely in everything that I do. That’s an amazing thing. And Without Kam’s dad, I would not have Kam, and essentially would not be alive as the mother and woman that I am today. He’s given me the most special, amazing, important gift that I could’ve ever received. So to him, I will always be grateful.

Now let’s get into the emotional stuff.

One of my childhood best friends lost their mother in the beginning of the month. And it was so unexpected. One day they were putting her in hospice and the next day she was just gone. I loved Kathy like a second mom, and for a huge part of my life she was just that. She was just such an amazing woman, and loved her kids like they were the last people left on earth. My heart hurts for my friend, as that was her best friend in life. I want to tell her that I know, that I understand, but I can’t. Because I don’t. Thankfully, I do still have my mama, and every loss is different. So I’ll just say over and over that I love her and her family, always.

August was also supposed to be the month that me and Kam’s dad were gonna maybe try to get pregnant again. And it was never really fully confirmed but it was talked about. It was gonna be perfect timing. It would put me at 18 months between deliveries, which is what most doctors recommend. My OB was willing to support whatever decision we made, even if I told her we wanted to get pregnant 1 month after we lost him. She’s been so amazingly supportive of me throughout all of this. Plus, if our timing worked out, it meant that we would conceive during Kam’s dad’s birthday month, and deliver the new baby in May, during mine. That seemed special to me as well. But alas, here we are, and though me and Kam’s dad are not on bad terms and even have friendly conversations from time to time, we are certainly not going to be trying to bring another life into the world. So that’s that.

But, today is the day that Yvonne gave birth to her rainbow baby boy, and for that I am so so happy. Yvonne is a good friend of mine from work, and we were actually pregnant together. She unfortunately lost her daughter Faith during the pregnancy, and that was such a difficult time. Obviously. So I’m so happy that she was able to conceive again and have the best pregnancy that she’s ever had. Faith was definitely helping out in that aspect, of that I’m sure. And today she welcomed this perfect little chunk into the world. I can’t wait to see him in person, and possibly even hold him. I haven’t held a baby since Kam, but I think he would be a good start.

Another one of my old co-workers from KC jus welcomed his rainbow baby last week as well. He lost his son to SIDS about a year before I lost Kam. So seeing them have another healthy, happy, beautiful baby makes my heart swell. I cannot wait until the day I am them. I know I will be. Maybe not soon, but someday. Whe the time is right. When God thinks I’m ready. I will be ready. One day. Just not quite today.

This month is halfway over, and for that I’m thankful. Thankful that I’ve been busy. Thankful that I’ve spent a lot more time smiling, and a lot less time crying.  And mostly thankful that I’m starting to find happy moments in the longest of days.

Oh August

I’m just thankful for the love and lessons you’ve brought to me.