If I were still pregnant with Noah, he would be due in 75
days. Doesn't that seem still like a lot
of time? Noah arrived 113 days
early. The fact that he was able to
survive the birth and was born alive despite being so early, reminds me of the
miracle he was. To conceive him was a
miracle, the trials he fought through to be with us; a miracle, and the fact
that he fought for more than 12 days to be in our lives… that was a miracle
too.
Thanks to a friend I wear a bracelet daily that reminds me I
am the mom of an angel. When the gift
arrived in the mail, it didn’t say who it was from. Opening the box and seeing the beautiful
bracelet, I loved it immediately. I took
a picture of the gift and sent it to my family saying, “Is this so
pretty?” A few minutes later my sister
replied to my text, “What an honor.” It
took me a second to figure out what she meant and then I looked down at the
gift and realized, she was referring to the saying, “Mom of an Angel.”
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| Isn't it pretty? I have another story about the beautiful Noah bracelet, that one coming soon. |
I thought for a moment, and realized, you’re right MaeLyn,
it is an honor. While I’d much rather
have Noah here in my arms, the truth is, I can’t. But I am still his mother and he’ll always
be mine right? And I do believe he is an
angel in Heaven. So I guess the charm is
accurate, I am the mother to an angel.
Thinking about it that way, yes I agree, I feel honored to hold that
title.
In that honor comes responsibility.
In the first few days after Noah’s passing, life was
extremely dark. There were thoughts I
had, feelings I shared with those closest to me, that I don’t feel I can share
here. Let me just say, they were very
difficult days. Jarrett, my parents, my
sisters and a select few others I shared my inner most thoughts with, told me
“It is your responsibility to carry on.
You have to for us, for Gabriel, Michael and Isabelle… and you have to
do it for Noah.” At the time I really
didn’t care, honestly, I REALLY DIDN’T CARE.
And I couldn’t understand why they were telling me that. I didn’t care. I felt so terribly lost, devastated,
destroyed that I didn’t believe I would ever, ever recover from losing
Noah.
And then there was this morning, and yesterday and the few
days before that. Maybe its because I’m sitting
here in the beautiful, flower filled, green, lush environment of San Diego,
with the ocean in my sights. But sitting
here this morning, I realize today feels different. Yesterday felt different than the day before.
And last Tuesday felt different than the morning of June 26th.
People keep telling me the only cure to getting through the
loss of a loved one is time. When your
hearts been crushed and you’re just hours out from losing your most precious
loved one, time is the worst answer. Who
the hell wants to hear you just have to give yourself time to recover. Seriously, when people would say you just
have to give yourself time to be able to live a happy life, I wanted to punch
them in the face. (Sorry to all you
loved ones who told me that. You know I
really wouldn’t have punched you but I may have thought about it.)
Just give it time…that sucks. The only time I wanted to think about was
going back in time… to freeze it, so I’d never have to live through the
terrible parts of losing him. I’d go
back to Father’s Day and live that day over like I was Bill Murry in Groundhogs Day the movie. That’s the time I wanted to talk about.
But time doesn’t stop, and time keeps marching on. Here we are 38 days out from Noah’s birth,
almost a month from his passing, and I’m starting to see a glimmer of light in
the message so many wonderful people shared with me. Time doesn’t heal… time makes the pain of
living with a lost loved one, easier to bear.
And that’s where I’m seeing my responsibility of living here
on Earth with an angel in Heaven and three more needing me here.
I went running this morning along the beach. I continue to use that time to ask God
questions, to search for answers in the sky and to pray. It doesn’t matter to me the miles anymore or
the pace, I go long enough until I’ve asked God all the questions I can
remember, until I’ve searched the sky for all signs and until I’ve gotten that
yucky feeling out of the pit of my stomach.
This morning’s view as I ran, reminded me of the mess in my head.
San Diego in the last couple of days set a record for the
most amount of rain ever in the month of July.
Yesterday the rainstorm was beautiful….it poured rain, and thunder
rolled in the sky for hours. Sometimes
it recessed to a slight sprinkle and then other times, the rain poured down
like it was a pitcher of water being poured from the sky. It’s how the tears fall from my eyes these
days too. This morning the thick, dense
fog had rolled in and I could see the sheets of the white, thick air move
across the beach in front of me. It’s
like the waves of sadness, of happy memories, the guilt, the paralyzing pain of
never being able to hold him again… all different fronts coming at me at
once. That’s how the weather feels this
morning.
Waking up this morning , as normal Noah was first to my
mind. (On a side note: I think I’m going to start viewing it as a happy thing,
rather than a reminder he’s not here.
Maybe it is his way to telling me good morning. He wants to be first to do it and I would love
that greeting. It’s a paradigm shift…think Win Win as my kid’s school says.) As Noah and my love for him came to my mind,
it was the reminder of my responsibility to carry on that came second. While I might not feel like carrying on, I
have to.
When Jarrett and I decided to build a family through
adoption we made a commitment to those three children, the angels who answered
our prayers; that we would be there for them, through everything. Through the good times as we celebrate their
cheers, and through the bad times, that come as a part of the package to living
a quality life. We are in the midst of
the bad times. These are some really bad
times. Worst than I’ve ever had
before.
Thinking back in my life to past challenging times, I am
reminded that good times have always followed.
It still seems hard to me to believe that good times can and will follow
the loss of Noah, but just as my belief in God above, I have to believe good
times will come again too. And I want to
be there for Gabriel, Michael and Isabelle to see the good times with them, to
celebrate and cheer again and to watch life bloom through their eyes.
I’m not sure why Noah had to leave us, I don’t think I’m
ever going to understand while I still have a beating heart, but despite how
broken I feel, I must try to fix this and heal, because I do have a life worth
living. I want to live long enough to
see my children grow, to find the loves of their lives, to find a job that
makes them happy and provides enough for them to live an adventurous life they’ll
enjoy. And I want to live to see my
children become parents. For me, it was
the best gift in the entire world and what joy it must bring to watch your
children given that gift too. That is
why I must go on.
In Noah’s 12 days of life, we were given so much love,
comfort, prayers and support. While the
reason for the gifts was because of Noah, the reality is all of them came from
you. From friends, family, neighbors,
work colleagues, and even strangers.
Thousands of people visited our blog each day and the messages of
support rolled in like the waves.
Jarrett and I have never felt more carried, more love and we know our
children (all four of them) felt it just as much. We continue to be so grateful. Yesterday on our drive here, Jarrett and I talked about what we want to do
to honor Noah’s life. So many of you
have given memorials in his honor, we are not only grateful, but we hold a
responsibility to make sure that money goes to great use. Right now it is being set aside until we can
determine what we feel the best way is to honor him. We’ve talked about some ideas and we will
continue to discuss and work out the details to share with you in the coming
weeks ahead. We believe Noah’s life here
on Earth served as a reminder for so many of gift of hope, the power of prayer
and the strength others can gain from kindness.
We were the recipients of that strength because of you and we hope that
it wasn’t only us that found rejuvenated through hope and prayer on those days
he was with us.
As we think about what October 3, 2015 and the dream it was
supposed to bring us, we know that day will be different than what we were
originally planning. But instead of
making it a day of sadness, we want it to be a day that reminds us, reminds
you, reminds as many people as we can, about the gifts hope, faith and kindness
can be. For that was the message Noah
and his life brought us, thanks in part to so many. So we ask you to help us… save the date of
Saturday, October 3.The details will be coming but for now we ask you to please plan and join us. No matter where you live, no matter what your busy
schedule entails, we ask you to jot down on your calendar and save the date to
help us make this world a better place, just like our son did.
I have a responsibility to carry on.
Until next time,
Angie
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