The Journey in April (Still Standing Magazine)

What’s in a name?

This month I wanted to ask you all, what’s in a name? How do you decide? What is important to you, when it comes to naming our children?

When we first heard the words “It’s a boy!” with Aidan, I immediately saw what I wanted for his life; who I hoped he would grow to be like. We had been tossing around names for weeks, but suddenly I knew. I knew that our little fighter would be Aidan. His daddy had picked that name and suddenly it just fit. He was our fire.

I also knew that he would be Thomas. There are many Thomas’ throughout history that have made a difference. That has had an impact on the world. I grew up with one. I was lucky enough to know a man named Tom Martin. He was a bigger brother that I never had. He taught me things like knot tying, canoeing, the art of water balloons and how to stand up for what you believed. As we grew up, Tom joined the army. On October 14, 2007 Tom was killed while in Iraq. He died a hero. His legacy lives on through an amazing family. I wanted my son to have that same kind of impact.

I had no idea how quickly Aidan would do these things. I could have never imagined that he would fulfill my hopes and dreams without ever taking a breath.

So, when it came time for us to pick a name for Aidan’s little brother, I knew that the name was vital. It was the first step on this child’s path. We tossed around name after name. None seemed to be “the one.” Then, one night my husband looked at me and handed me a name on a notepad. “Kellan.” Kellan means warrior. It was perfect. It had everything I was looking for. Strength, ended in “an” like his brother so they are forever connected, and carries part of my mom’s maiden name. It was meant to be. We chose Kent as his middle name, named after his papa, my dad.

For me, picking out a child's name is one of the first life altering decisions we make as a parent. It is the foundation for what will be. It is the beginning of a beautiful story. It is the thing by which our children will always be known.

I love saying our boys’ names. I love hearing their names.

So, what’s in a name? To this mom, it is everything.

What do you do in their room? (The Journey)

We are going to try changing up The Journey piece for a few months. We are going to try and focus on a topic and invite you to come and share your perspective with us all. I’m hoping that we can connect and reflect and hopefully even reach another parent who is walking this journey with us.

There are so many things that you are just never prepared for when you don’t get to bring your child home. One of the hardest things was coming back to a house that included his room, but he would never grow up in. We shut that door and it became the room we didn’t enter. I couldn’t even open the door without falling apart. Let alone go through his things. Finally, with the help of two of the strongest women I know, we redid Aidan’s room. Instead of his nursery it became my sanctuary. His things were proudly displayed. It was my safety zone. It was the proof that his life counted.

                I couldn’t imagine trying to create another nursery. Planning Aidan’s was planning my dream. How was I supposed to do that again? With this pregnancy it has been a delicate balance of excitement, anticipation and overwhelming fear. All of this has gone into Kellan’s nursery. I wanted something all his own, while simultaneously including his big brother. Was this possible? Was it fair?

                I strongly believe that all of my children should be treated equal. While I realize that doesn’t mean we will do for Aidan as much as we will do for Kellan, I do believe that we should still do for Aidan. I want Kellan to know about his big brother and the impact that his life made on mine. I think it is important.

                Feeling these things, I couldn’t just pack up Aidan’s things to be replaced with Kellan’s. Instead it is the “boys’ room.” We went in a completely different direction with the design and colors, but made sure to keep parts of Aidan present. In our journey with Aidan, the elephant has become vital in my healing. The elephant has become a representation of Aidan for many. Knowing this we have chosen to do a big top type nursery. In it is a very special mural that is of the barn scene in Dumbo. Momma is holding Dumbo in her embrace protecting him from the harshness of the world. It just seems fitting. Because, after all, isn’t that what we are all doing? Mommies and Daddies protecting our children. Both those in our arms and those who are walking ahead, but never out of our hearts.

A different Child

I read this and immediately teared up.

It's so true. One day we will explain to our future children where their older brother is. One day they will question why we do the things we do for Aidan. This perfectly describes the emotions.

 

To this baby currently nudging me: Please know, never has a baby been more wanted. Never have I been so determined. Never have I had so much hope. Never ever doubt my love for you. You hold a special piece of my heart that no other child will ever hold. Just as your older brother claimed his. I love you both equally.

 

To Aidan: You sweet boy have taught me so much. You inspire me to the best mom I know how to be. You are missed and loved. I know that you are forever safe and loved. One day I will snuggle you close and whisper all of our stories again.  

 

A Different Child

A different child, people notice

There's a special glow around you.

You grow surrounded by love

Never doubting you are wanted;

Only look at the pride and joy

In your mother and father's eyes.

And if sometimes between the smiles

There's a trace of tears,

One day you'll understand.

You'll understand there was once

another child.

A different child.

Who was in their hopes and dreams.

That child will never outgrow the baby clothes.

That child will never keep them up at night.

In fact, that child will never be any trouble at all....

Except sometimes, in a silent moment,

When mother and father miss so much

That different child.

May hope and love wrap you warmly

And may you learn the lesson forever:

How infinitely precious,

How infinitely fragile is this life on earth.

One day, as a young man or woman

You may see another mother's tears

Another father's silent grief

Then you, and you alone will understand

And offer the greatest comfort.

When all hope seems lost you will tell them

with great compassion:

"I know how you feel. I'm only here because my parents tried again."

PD MacMillan

A quick update: learning to navigate

We are 16 weeks into this pregnancy.

We have had a successful cerclage placement.

Bed rest has begun.

Aidan is going to have a little brother.

The excitement is growing. Hope is blooming.

And yet, there are moments when it just feels a little hard to breathe. Moments that make the days feel heavier.

I miss my first little boy. I miss the things I could be experiencing him. I could be snapping photos, taking him to see Santa for the first time. We could be eagerly waiting what would have been his first Christmas in a perfect world.

But, it’s not a perfect world. At least, it isn’t THAT perfect world.

I carried Aidan and treasured every single second. I had no idea that those were all I would get.

This time around is just completely different. I am still treasuring every kick, every heartbeat. I still love this child with all that I am. But, I am doing these things with the knowledge that I may not get the ending of my dreams.

That is the reality of this new normal I live in. I can still feel all of the happiness and anticipation. However, I also live with the knowledge of what is on the other side.

I am still having a hard time finding the words to describe this part of the journey.

I am so thankful for this new life I can feel fluttering around right this second. At the same time I am so thankful for the life and legacy of his big brother. I think the words are hard to come by because I am afraid to take something away from the other. I love them equally. They are both my boys. One is not mutually exclusive of the other.

I am hoping that with the bed rest the words to explain my heart in these coming months will come. The past year has been written with such detail that I want every year to have those memories written down. I want this child to know his brother as we all know him and at the same time I want to be able to show him how eager and how badly we wanted him to be a part of our lives.

A rainbow in the storm

 

A picture worth a 1,000 words.

 

Today, today I am 12 weeks pregnant with our rainbow baby.

 

Aidan is a big brother. Those words bring me to my knees.

 

So many emotions. More than I am able to express in any sort of sensical way.

 

I am so excited. So happy. Brimming with hope.

I am so scared.

 

What if it happens again? What if something else goes wrong?

 

What if people forget about Aidan?

 

That's the big one. That's the fear I have been afraid to put words too. That's the reason I haven't been able to blog or write much.

 

My excitement is overwhelming. At the same time, my heartaches from missing my little boy. I cannot explain that.

 

I cherish every single day. Even though most of them have been rough physically, I know that they may be all that I have. Aidan taught me that.

 

Every day I think of him and wonder what life would be like if he were here. How would I have managed an infant and the complications that have come along with this pregnancy? And then it hits me, if it weren't for Aidan's life, I most likely would not be sitting here pregnant. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have Twinkle. There is so much power in this knowledge. There are so many things that I would not know if it hadn't been for Aidan and the journey we are on. Too many to even attempt to list.

 

While there are no guarantees, no promises, I know that this baby is a gift. One that deserves its own excitement of hopes and dreams.

 

I have been unsure of what to say. How to explain how this baby and Aidan are both a part of our family without taking away from the other. And then this moment happened today. A comment was made and it reminded me that it is my job as their mother to make sure they are both treated equally. The only way I can do that is to continue to share our journey together. As a growing family of four.

 

This is my second pregnancy. I have two children. Each deserves to be loved and cherished in their own ways. No matter what tomorrow brings, I am a momma of two. And no one can ever take that away.

On your birthday

                Aidan,

I am at a loss for words. How exactly am I supposed to put into words what these days have meant? They have been so full of memories. There have been tears. There has been laughter. There has been sheer determination.

Most of all, there has been love.

The kind of love that is known to inspire books and movies. A love that takes your breath away and at the same time gives you a reason to live. The love of a mother.

Each day has been a countdown to you. Your birthday.

On this day, one year ago, you changed me. You changed your Daddy. You changed the lives of so many people sweet boy. People who came to see you. Hold you. Kiss you. Snuggle you.

Love you.

On this day, one year ago, you changed everything. And you did it without having ever taken a breath. You are that amazing. You are that powerful. You are my son.

There are so many adjectives I could use to describe the impact you have made in the past year. None seem to compare as much as faith, grace, and love…Holy.

The precious hours I spent with you were the epitome of these things. They are untarnished by the fact that I would not get to take you home with us. They were simply moments spent with you. Moments as a complete family. Moments that will carry me through until I see you again. 

A child’s first birthday is always this big celebration. So many milestones have been and are being reached.

The parents tend to go overboard. Party. Gifts. Cake. Proud moments. Endless pictures. What wouldn’t I give to live in that realm of reality again.

Instead, I am in a car; headed towards a boat. Just your daddy and I. Your first birthday is upon us and yet we live in the world where you are not here. With your birthday comes the harsh reality that we don’t get those things. Instead we get the love of those who love you and understand the overwhelming loss of these days. Others have sympathy.  The ignorance of those who don’t get it and just think it means it’s been a year and we should be “better.” 

I wake up each day with the hope that I will get to say your name. Share your pictures. Be your mom without someone questioning why. So, on this day, a day that is 100 percent about you; about your life; we are celebrating. The fight, the determination, the love, the grace and the faith it has taken to survive each day since. We are rejoicing in the knowledge that we were chosen to be your parents. We are so proud to be your family. We are so grateful that we know where you are. We smile knowing you are safely tucked in the arms of loved ones. Happy. Blissful. Surrounded by the perfection you deserve.

It seems unbelievable that it has already been a year. Yet, this has been the longest, hardest and most defining year of my life.

1 year

12 months

52 weeks

365 days

525948 minutes

31556926 seconds

Each and every one of them has been about you. Because this day is the day you were born. The day your legacy began. The day you did something that no one else has ever done or will ever do again. You made me a mom.

I am so thankful to you. I love you more than I ever knew I could. I miss you with every fiber of my being. I am the proudest Momma. I am heartbroken that I don’t get to watch you grow. I eagerly wait for the day I get to hold you again. I am looking towards the future. Hoping that one day I will be able to tell your little brother or sisters about their amazing big brother and how he is the reason they are here.

 I fell head over heels in love with you one year ago. Every day that love has grown more. I’ll look for you in the waves, stars and peace of this week. Your momma loves you so. Each and every heartbeat I share with you.

Happy Birthday to you, Aidan Thomas. Happy Birthday to you.

Enduring love,

Momma

 

 



Step by Step

A week ago, we recorded an Interview for a local radio station.

Aidan's story was shared. His name was spoken.

Aidan on the Radio

This past week, we were interviewed on a local new station.

Aidan's story was shared. His name was spoken. Aidan's perfect face was shown on live TV.

Aidan on TV

And tonight. Tonight I placed an order. I ordered cards that I hope you will help me distribute.

Aidan's birthday is rapidly approaching. I want it to be big. I want it to be a celebration. I want it to make a difference. I want it to touch people beyond my limited scope. I want complete strangers to be affected by Aidan's life. And from this desire an idea was born:

Aidan's Hope

Our hope is that you will allow us to share Aidan and what he has come to mean to all of us. He has had such an impact in the past year. He has changed everything. We are now hoping that he will change others who do not know him. Let's take the first steps towards literally changing the world. We have been blessed with so many opportunities to share our little boy. I love the idea of sharing him in a way that will have a positive impact for others.

I cannot wait to see how far they go, the good they inspire and the people he brings together.

I have ordered the cards and they should be here next week hopefully. My plan is to get them out to you, so that we can actually kick of Aidan's birthday with the first good deeds. I cannot think of a more special way to celebrate the day that changed everything.