As I sit here in front of my computer this morning there are tears running down my cheeks, creating a pool on the desk. Today it is two years since Ethan entered our lives - so small and obviously so unwell and we had no idea what was coming... It still breaks my heart that I could not do more for him. Last year I held my breath as the first birthday and angelversary approached and passed - it was agony. This year the days have just come marching forward and for some reason it is harder. I always thought that more distance of time would help but it actually makes it worse... I am so in love with our new blessing baby and because of the IVIG treatment he is asleep right now in his crib, but he will never know his big brother, and someday we will explain to him about the brother who came before. My oldest asked me yesterday what I think Heaven is like and what Ethan is doing right now, and like any teacher I turned the question around back to him (honestly I couldn't have said anything at that moment without blubbering) and he said "Heaven is full of sunshine, grass, flowers, butterflies, and dragonflies and it smells like outside in the spring after it rains. And there are angels and they taught Ethan to walk and he loves to play with all the other babies." There is so much comfort in that belief, but so much agony as well. As I have missed so much of him, and I think of what he would be doing today on his second birthday. More then anything I wish I could be making him a cake right now instead of a blog post. So today in remembrance of him we will send him birthday balloons, and keep loving each other through the hard times and depending on God to get us through the storms.
I love you to pieces little Ethan...I want to hold your hand and brush your hair...I want to hold you and never stop...I miss you baby so so so very much!
"Everyday holds the possibility of a Miracle."
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
I grew up in a family of musically talented people, we all play instruments and have good singing voices. Every Sunday and most Christian Holidays we would gather around the piano and have a good Hymn sing. I loved to sing...I would make up songs in the car on vacation when I was little and drive my brothers crazy...I would sing myself to sleep at night...I sang in my car...I hummed while I worked. When I had children I loved putting them to bed at night. I would rock them and sing a whole list of songs to them each and every night. That all changed the day Ethan died. As I held him after they removed him from the respirator I felt so compelled to sing "Jesus Loves Me" to him, but the words stuck in my throat. It was after that I stopped singing. I just can't anymore. I can hum along with the music or sing the words in my head, but I just can't make them come out my mouth. I have tried to find ways to get myself singing again and nothing has worked...I finally decided that it was just a product of my grief and someday I would heal enough to sing again. I honestly thought that singing was one of those things I would get back in my life after Gideon's arrival. I have always loved rocking and singing my babies to sleep at night, but I can't. I rock him and try - I have tried several times in fact but it just falls flat and eventually fades away. My husband and I were able to go out alone just the two of us two weeks ago for my birthday - it was to a Christian music concert - it was powerful and I loved it. It was there that I came to realize what the ongoing grief of my son had taken from me - my ability to praise out loud. I miss it, but every time I try my throat clogs up with unshed tears and I can't make it work. Reality is, I am still Ethan's mommy, and He is still separated from me by death, and I still grieve very very deeply. So deeply I often can't put it into words...let alone raise my voice in joyful praise.
Posted by Leah Nyangamoi at 5:37 PM