We lost Quinlan on November 13th, 2007, nearly two years ago. This day happens to be World Kindness Day. Last year, we attempted to make his memory meaningful by asking friends and family to perform random acts of kindness in his name. We are continuing it this year, along with a custom tag you can print and send along with your random act. These acts can be as small as helping someone with their groceries, shoveling a neighbor's driveway, or doing something kind and anonymous for someone you know. We hope that you will remember us this week, and spread love and kindness in Quin's name.
Please visit: http://www.friendsofquinlan.blogspot.com
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
The longest days
Some days, like today, I feel like a wave has overcome me, and I am underwater. There is no sound, there is no pain, just a strange numbness, and the light shining through. Numb, lost, paralyzed...But lately, I am always on the brink, of feeling and emotion overcoming me and drowning me in sorrow.
In these days before the anniversary, I realize I have moments, that come out of nowhere, where I see him, where I feel him, where I remember every detail of him. Then, I remember what it felt like when he was alive, and even worse when he died, and...I crumble. I get sad, I get mad, I cry at nothing and everything.
This much I can tell you...I will never accept this. I will always question how horrible things can happen to some and not others. I will always wonder why I drew this lottery ticket of pain and sorrow. I have come to peace with his loss in some ways, but, in others, well, I am not sure I will ever find the solace I seek. I have learned so much, I have grown stronger, I value friendship and kindness more than ever. But, the anger, it still lurks.
For me, knowing that I get the chance every day to make the world better for someone else helps me go on. That selflessness is what keeps me going. That, and a tiny shred of hope. It is small, but it is there.
This week, I sat at the doctor on that stupid table, wondering if I would ever know the joy of a crying baby, the sound of cooing, the wiggly, warm body that would belong to my child. She asked me how I was coping, how I was dealing with the loss of Quinlan, and the loss of two recent failed pregnancies. I wept...and wept some more. We sat in the room for a long time, me trying to get a hold of myself, trying to communicate the pain I feel in my soul. And then she cried too. She apologized for not having more answers, and for my unspeakable loss that she will never truly understand.
I told her that I don't know what the future holds, but I know that in my life, there will never be a worse pain than a child dying inside of you. Most people will never understand me, and I have accepted that. I am forever changed, not just disappointed. I mourn not just a lost future, but the loss of a soul that lived within me. The past two years have been dark and sad, and...horrible. I won't ever get this time back. I have had to grieve the way I needed to, because I knew if I didn't grieve now, I would later, and it would be even more painful, if that is possible. I may have concerned others with my silence or my anger, or my sorrow, I just wish they understood. That's all I can say. I have no anger towards people who are still in the bubble, just concern that empathy is so rare these days.
To those who have rallied behind me, I am forever grateful. You gave me what I needed more than anything. Maybe some day this will make sense, I don't know. I just don't know. What I do know, something that is certain in this life, is that friendship and kindness are the greatest gifts we can share. No matter where we are in this life, we could all use it. Take it in my friends, and pass it on.
In these days before the anniversary, I realize I have moments, that come out of nowhere, where I see him, where I feel him, where I remember every detail of him. Then, I remember what it felt like when he was alive, and even worse when he died, and...I crumble. I get sad, I get mad, I cry at nothing and everything.
This much I can tell you...I will never accept this. I will always question how horrible things can happen to some and not others. I will always wonder why I drew this lottery ticket of pain and sorrow. I have come to peace with his loss in some ways, but, in others, well, I am not sure I will ever find the solace I seek. I have learned so much, I have grown stronger, I value friendship and kindness more than ever. But, the anger, it still lurks.
For me, knowing that I get the chance every day to make the world better for someone else helps me go on. That selflessness is what keeps me going. That, and a tiny shred of hope. It is small, but it is there.
This week, I sat at the doctor on that stupid table, wondering if I would ever know the joy of a crying baby, the sound of cooing, the wiggly, warm body that would belong to my child. She asked me how I was coping, how I was dealing with the loss of Quinlan, and the loss of two recent failed pregnancies. I wept...and wept some more. We sat in the room for a long time, me trying to get a hold of myself, trying to communicate the pain I feel in my soul. And then she cried too. She apologized for not having more answers, and for my unspeakable loss that she will never truly understand.
I told her that I don't know what the future holds, but I know that in my life, there will never be a worse pain than a child dying inside of you. Most people will never understand me, and I have accepted that. I am forever changed, not just disappointed. I mourn not just a lost future, but the loss of a soul that lived within me. The past two years have been dark and sad, and...horrible. I won't ever get this time back. I have had to grieve the way I needed to, because I knew if I didn't grieve now, I would later, and it would be even more painful, if that is possible. I may have concerned others with my silence or my anger, or my sorrow, I just wish they understood. That's all I can say. I have no anger towards people who are still in the bubble, just concern that empathy is so rare these days.
To those who have rallied behind me, I am forever grateful. You gave me what I needed more than anything. Maybe some day this will make sense, I don't know. I just don't know. What I do know, something that is certain in this life, is that friendship and kindness are the greatest gifts we can share. No matter where we are in this life, we could all use it. Take it in my friends, and pass it on.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Sweet Marie
I am not sure what to say, except that life is not fair. It has never been, sometimes, it is just more apparent. My cousin lost her baby girl today. Marie struggled with Leigh's Disease and at nearly 2 1/2 years old, she lost her battle. Not even 24 hours after her baby sister was born, she passed away. My cousin is in a state of grief, and a state of joy, welcoming her new daughter Sarah into the world, and saying goodbye to Marie. Josie, Marie's big sister, has to deal with life and death at the same time. It is not fair. Luke, her husband, had to say goodbye to his baby girl. Damnit, it is not fair. I will never understand why this pain has to burden us. I have so many questions about how this life works, and why some of us face more tradgedy and heartache than others. Marie was a beautiful girl, who lit up the room. She fought so hard, and her family fought even harder. They are the inspiration we seek.
What I hope, is that Shannon feels the support, the love that everyone around her feels for her and the Schlachter family. If you read this, if anyone reads this, I hope you go to her blog and send her well wishes, that you pray for her, think of her, believe in her. This family will need the strength and support of everyone.
www.josieandme.blogspot.com
What I hope, is that Shannon feels the support, the love that everyone around her feels for her and the Schlachter family. If you read this, if anyone reads this, I hope you go to her blog and send her well wishes, that you pray for her, think of her, believe in her. This family will need the strength and support of everyone.
www.josieandme.blogspot.com
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Shared Pain
I hate to hear that anyone will go through what I have...that someone else will experience the deepest pain, a length of time more lonely and isolating than you could ever imagine, a feeling so distinct and dark that you could just lay down and die. I don't want someone else to feel the emptiness of their own heart.
If I could go back in time, I would ask for from those around me for patience, for strength, and for the time that I needed to heal without judgement. I would ask them to keep their opinions to themselves, and their stories of the ordinary. I would also ask them to stay with me, whether physically or emotionally, but to stay with me through the dark days. Life seemed so mean and cruel, as if it was holding a magnifying glass right over me, so that life could see me well enough to smash me with it's thumb. The days are always cloudy no matter how sunny it is outside. Every metaphor and sad song you have ever heard makes perfect sense.
Some days I feel that pain, but the days are few and far between now. What is permanent is my perspective. It is a feeling of live or die. I work hard every day to feel good, to be positive, and to continue to dream and wish, even though I know more than most that statisitics are a cruel joke.
If I could tell those stricken with the loss of a child one thing, it would be to keep living, second by second if you to, but keep living...the pain will go away, and the memory of your child will eventually offer you strength and compassion, instead of sorrow and pain. One day, you will feel only the love, and nothing else.
If I could go back in time, I would ask for from those around me for patience, for strength, and for the time that I needed to heal without judgement. I would ask them to keep their opinions to themselves, and their stories of the ordinary. I would also ask them to stay with me, whether physically or emotionally, but to stay with me through the dark days. Life seemed so mean and cruel, as if it was holding a magnifying glass right over me, so that life could see me well enough to smash me with it's thumb. The days are always cloudy no matter how sunny it is outside. Every metaphor and sad song you have ever heard makes perfect sense.
Some days I feel that pain, but the days are few and far between now. What is permanent is my perspective. It is a feeling of live or die. I work hard every day to feel good, to be positive, and to continue to dream and wish, even though I know more than most that statisitics are a cruel joke.
If I could tell those stricken with the loss of a child one thing, it would be to keep living, second by second if you to, but keep living...the pain will go away, and the memory of your child will eventually offer you strength and compassion, instead of sorrow and pain. One day, you will feel only the love, and nothing else.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Maternal Instincts
Is it really all perspective? I know that last Mother's Day, I started the day with a positive outlook, that Don and I spent the day together, planted a tree, and felt good at the end of the day. This year, this Mother's Day, I felt rather sad. I know that part of it was because I have been ill for quite a while, and that I didn't have the energy stored up to deal with my emotions.
So, it (the holiday) got me thinking. What does it really mean to be a mother? A warm hug, knowing you are cared for, a reassuring glance or kind words...it all fits. A mother is nurturing, a mother is kindness, a mother is love and strength and beauty. I know that I am a mother. Just because there is no child on my lap, does not mean that I am not a mother. Just because I don't spend every day watching my child grow, does not mean I am not a mother. Just because my son is in an urn on my mantle, does not mean I am not a mother.
What about Mother Theresa? A mother to us all, right? After googling this phrase, I was surprised to find how many names came up. Some names were of women that I had never heard of before. Beside each name, was words of the woman's strength, courage, kindness and spirit. Each woman was capable of loving so many, and sharing her love with those around her, unconditionally. Isn't that truly what being a mother means? She doesn't act for fame or fortune, she acts out of the kindness of her heart, she acts based on instinct, she does this for the good of others, not out of fear. I have always felt the mother within me, and in recent years I have felt the need to spread my sense of nurturing with others. I do this, not because I am 'missing' that part of my life, but because this is who I am. I have been criticized and misunderstood, but as of today, I can tell you, that I will continue to be who I am...to care, to nurture and to love with my whole heart.
So, it (the holiday) got me thinking. What does it really mean to be a mother? A warm hug, knowing you are cared for, a reassuring glance or kind words...it all fits. A mother is nurturing, a mother is kindness, a mother is love and strength and beauty. I know that I am a mother. Just because there is no child on my lap, does not mean that I am not a mother. Just because I don't spend every day watching my child grow, does not mean I am not a mother. Just because my son is in an urn on my mantle, does not mean I am not a mother.
What about Mother Theresa? A mother to us all, right? After googling this phrase, I was surprised to find how many names came up. Some names were of women that I had never heard of before. Beside each name, was words of the woman's strength, courage, kindness and spirit. Each woman was capable of loving so many, and sharing her love with those around her, unconditionally. Isn't that truly what being a mother means? She doesn't act for fame or fortune, she acts out of the kindness of her heart, she acts based on instinct, she does this for the good of others, not out of fear. I have always felt the mother within me, and in recent years I have felt the need to spread my sense of nurturing with others. I do this, not because I am 'missing' that part of my life, but because this is who I am. I have been criticized and misunderstood, but as of today, I can tell you, that I will continue to be who I am...to care, to nurture and to love with my whole heart.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Grooving
Well, I haven't felt like sharing so much. The good news is that this blog was my lifeline for a while, so the fact that I am not blogging so much means I am doing alright. The past month I have had an overwhelming bit of anger, and I think that is pretty reasonable all things considered. Having it come to the surface is a good sign to me, because now I can work through my anger, and start to forgive. Other than that, I am much more myself, but a stronger version in many ways. Yes, what does not kill us will make us stronger, but when we are ready, and on our terms. Renee's getting her groove back.
Monday, December 29, 2008
2009
This past year has been long, time slowed down to a snail's pace. With just a few days left in 2008, I think back on the road we have traveled, and it was exhausting. I wouldn't trade it in, but I am ready for it to be over. I feel positive going in to the new year, and I know that good things are already happening.
When I reflect, I see how close I was at times to checking out. Infact, there are periods of time that I don't even remember. This past year was a mental Olympics of sorts...and I did it. Somehow, I got through it. It is a relief to be here on the other side. I am strong enough now to face any obstacles in my path. I am ready to live. I know how this works though, life is not fair, and there might be more challenges ahead. That's just life.
Happy New Year,
Renee
When I reflect, I see how close I was at times to checking out. Infact, there are periods of time that I don't even remember. This past year was a mental Olympics of sorts...and I did it. Somehow, I got through it. It is a relief to be here on the other side. I am strong enough now to face any obstacles in my path. I am ready to live. I know how this works though, life is not fair, and there might be more challenges ahead. That's just life.
Happy New Year,
Renee
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