What should be…

It should be your 8th birthday today.

We should have cake and balloons.

You should be smiling as you open gifts.

We should be celebrating.

But.

It will be the 8th anniversary of the traumatic start to your short life.

It will be the 8th night I relive giving birth to a  blue baby.

It will be the 8th day I remember the silence as they resucitated you.

It will be the 1rst day of your 51 days of life for the 8th time.

 

 

His name was Cody…

Hi, what are you looking for today?

I need a black bra, for a dress. Person accompanying says for tomorrow.

I’ve lost alot of weight, I’ve had 3 kids and I’m done, my bras dont fit.

I measured her band and cup size, 34B.

I used to be a 38D she says, I immediately question my measurements in my head, I couldn’t be that far off…

I pick out, what is my favorite and most comfortable everyday bra in her new size.

All the while I am entranced by her 10 month old baby who seems to like me as well.

We exchange names, I say I will wait to check her fit.

She tells her mom to wait outside with baby or baby will cry for a feeding if she sees her moms boobs.

The baby is so mesmerizing, I can’t help but play with her, she takes my hand and pretends to toss it then grabbing it again, I smile, genuinely. She makes my heart happy.

I check her moms fit, so much better than what she was wearing before.

Her mom keeps asking if she wants to try the dress with the bra, the daughter keeps laughing and saying adamantly no.

I pause before walking away, I don’t know why and her mom, who is watching her beautiful granddaughter, says her brother died.

My son.

I stop.

I look her in the eyes though she averts them, a tactic I know well. I say I’m sorry.

She says the funeral is tomorrow, he died in a motorcycle accident.

I ask her what was his name, she instantly grabs her phone and starts scrolling, I already know she is searching for a picture to show me.

She says its Cody, she did say the last name but I didn’t hear it clearly. Then she showed me this amazing, strong man in a uniform. She continued, that he has a 10 year old daughter. My heart cracked a bit more, tears filled my eyes. I gave her a hug that lasted maybe longer than appropriate for an employee/ customer/ stranger relationship but honestly, I could have held on longer and she didn’t seem to want to let go either.

His sister, who I helped fit with a new bra, said she needed underwear and proceeded to pick out some, mostly camo design commenting they were perfect. Mom was telling me how she’d decided to wear her sons underwear, overtop of hers of course, she joked. His was the expensive Saxx kind so she didn’t want them to go to waste.

Its nice to have a part of him with you always I said.

Her eyes said the rest.

Before she left I told her that I hoped tomorrow went ok, that I will light a candle for her son. She thanked me. I felt her pain without words leaving her mouth.

I got home and Googled local motorcycle deaths etc, I couldn’t find it, I wanted to do something, know his full name.  He was trying to sell the motorcycle and was becoming a firefighter.

I pray for peace for his family.

people-at-a-funeral-104302966-57e83d435f9b586c356d9645

Thanks for reading,

Sheri

So it starts and the next 6 months are heavy…

The following months that lead up to my girls supposed to be 7th birthday, which is followed by the 7th date since her death (2 months later) so needless to say my not so good months of the year are soon to come; this time of year for me is heavy.

September:

As the beginning of another season.  The changing colors, fallen leaves of autumn, the beginning of another school year. Another year of growth for my other children, a new grade, a new teacher, whole new experiences. And one looming thought… the little girl who would be entering Grade 2, what would she choose to be for Halloween as an almost 7 year old? would she start to love math and hate art? How tall would she be now? …

October:

My birth month, never a big celebration as I do not like being the focus or for money wasted. But the thoughts are always there, as I age. Am I wiser? Do I care more or less? I guess its all changed dramatically over time, through grief, because of life and its unrelenting series of events, be them good or bad. The future or death really is always at the back of my mind. And of course another Thanksgiving holiday without her…

November:

I do not know if you’ve ever been to a schools Remembrance day ceremony? (Nov.11) Usually some of the kids sing sad songs while a slide show of graves and war pictures fill the room. Poems are read by innocent voices, too young to really understand the words that seem to make the adults in the rooms tear up. Outside becomes quite cold, the trees are bare and I always think of how in November of 2011 I was 8 months pregnant about to have a baby…

December:

Was my favorite month, before… I used to decorate December 1st for the holiday season, a fun day of unpacking years of decorations, an activity I would get excited for every beginning of Fall. Something I once loved so much. Is now something I dread. Another Christmas she wont be here, her stocking,  another birthday (Dec 30th) we wont celebrate, followed immediately by a new year. December is the worst…

January:

How I made those 3 hour round trips to the hospital everyday, how I begged (felt like anyway) friends to watch my other kids so I didn’t have to drag them there every day. The cold, dark days, the fact another year has gone by just like that…

February:

Is the shortest month of the year but the longest in my memory. I went out, for the first time in 11 months, to a parent advisory meeting, it was Tuesday February 11 2012, I went because an acclaimed parent speaker was giving a talk that night. Another mom commented, how she couldn’t believe I was there, you know having a newborn and all. She didn’t know I was trying for normalcy after what I had been going through since the traumatic birth of my daughter. The speaker had just started and 20 min in I got a call from my husband. He forgot to give our daughter her phenobarb (phenobarbitol is a seizure medication) hers was given through her G-tube and as I had always given the dose, he didn’t actually know how to. I later found out he called because our then almost 4 year old had fallen near where she was laying and it startled her so much that she went blank, he was scared and called me with the excuse she needed her medicine, which was partly true. So I left. I got home at 830, kissed my little 3 & 5 year old boys goodnight and heard Steve scream for me. Sheri come here! I ran down the stairs, I could hear the terror in his voice. Shes not breathing! I grabbed her from him, I yelled to call 911, to tell them an infant is unconscious and not breathing, that is what I learnt you say when you need them to come to you first. But in this case was also true. He put the speaker on, I explained I was giving her CPR but it wasn’t working, she asked me if I tilted her neck (step 2!) no, as soon as I did, she gasped for air. Seconds later the ambulance was at our door and once again I was abandoning my other babies in the middle of the night. Once again I was terrified and watching my littlest baby be hooked up to multiple cords, poked for IVs. But all I kept thinking was how my boys would be scared and sad when they woke up and their mom and sister were gone. I was up all night, they got her stable and all seemed on the up and up the next day, until she had 3 more seizures and I ran down the hallway as the room filled with too many doctors and nurses, codes being yelled over the PA. She was transferred back to Children’s Hospital where, x-rays and CT scans found other problem we never knew about, she needed a tracheotomy to breathe (a hole in her throat) if we wanted her to live. That was on top of the 3 heart surgeries we were already waiting for her to have, before this happened. She would never survive them, she wasn’t healthy enough, chances were slim for a healthy baby, which she wasn’t. I remember sitting in my room staring out the window as the doctor explained all the surgeries. That we needed to meet very soon to make a decision.

The world went still for me.

They tried to move us to the children’s hospice but I was too scared that she would die  during transfer. Another regret I carry.

Tuesday February 18 2012 we signed a DNC (do not resuscitate) they took our her breathing tube, and IV and I held her as she took or struggled more like through her last breath.

Her funeral was a week later and shortly after that it began… the you must be ok by now comments that infuriated me, the you can have another comments, the she’s not suffering anymore, those expecting me to smile only months after her death. little did they know my grief journey hadn’t even started, as I was in denial after the shock wore off. Now I relive those early days, the middle struggle and the final blow every year and it starts in September and goes until February 28 when I get a slight reprieve from the heavy feeling that seems to live in my heart 6 months a year.

Thanks for reading,

Sheri

 

poor baby

A poem for Carson

Your death creates fear about futures unclear

Your loss makes us anxious; how to steer clear

Your innocence stolen; gone too soon

Broken down simply;

Death creates fear

Loss is anxiousness

Your life was stolen

The story untold while grief unfolds

Anger subsides,  no answer to why

Young and trusting or foolish and rushing

Those left behind; hurt and confused

Forever staring at the invisible bruise

What makes a child turn away

Do drugs, solicit sex instead of play

Why has society drifted from truth

That an end by drugs is common for youth

The loss of a child is the worst; its true

Whether 3, 11 or at 22

The order of death is not correct

The mind scrambles to accept

Hurt and pain fill each room

With presence of a life gone too soon.

_________________________________________

Written for Carson Crimeni a 14 year old boy who was given drugs by older kids to watch how he reacted.

He died

His death has affected our community not only because of its circumstances but because of his age, naivety and vulnerability. And because it creates fear in us all.

I drive by the site at best 4x a day, I see the flowers, my heart pounds as my eyes swell. He is not my son but very well could be. No one knows who it could be next, no one is invincible.

Child loss is a pain no parent can heal from.

You can learn from it. You can grow from it. You can continue to live. But there is no getting over the loss of a child, regardless their age.

I hurt for his parents, for all parents who’ve lost a child to drugs, accident, illness or violence. Miscarriage, stillbirth or congenital diseases.

Death creates fear and uncertainty but moreso when its your child and you can’t understand why or how to move on, the world stops awhile.

I wrote this (above) but the picture attached below with a poem is written by an unknown author.

 

68388742_2563244180393472_6446824406118301696_o.png

 

Thanks for reading,

Sheri

Dimes

 

I keep a corner outside my daughter’s room, it was my first daughter’s and is now my seconds.

20190410_142715.jpg

 

Beside it to the right is, was her bedroom and to the left is the laundry room.

 

20190410_142554_HDR.jpg

 

I have been having a harder time lately.

I stop and light her candle as I do often, kiss my fingers to her photo and proceed to finish the laundry.

Where I immediately find this.

20190410_143604-COLLAGE.jpg

A dime.

Now it is not the first but this one came at a time I truly needed.

I have found one on the floor in my closet, on the ground outside my car door, on a walk.

Why dimes? Why not quarters or nickels and some will say, like in the post I share below that finding coins period is a sign from above and others believe it is specifically dimes that we receive from ones we lost.

What do you think? Has it happened to you?

Thanks for reading.

Sheri

https://www.ask-angels.com/spiritual-guidance/finding-dimes-pennies-from-heaven/

 

https://www.auntyflo.com/Superstition-dictionary/finding-dimes

 

https://passingthru.com/finding-dimes/

 

 

My Nonnos Hat

20190323_130800_HDRThis was a few days ago because I get immediate brown spots within seconds of being in the sun. I grabbed my Nonnos Hat, a hat I gladly accepted (as well as his suspenders) when he died. Why? They.  Are.  Him.

Growing up I spent most weekends with my grandparents, my Nonna and Nonno. I loved going to their house! It is by far the best memory I have from my childhood.

Anyway, when my Nonna died (my mom’s mom) in 2012 a few months after my daughter, I couldn’t properly grieve at the time losing her but have ten fold since, anyways, I was nervous to go to her funeral, people were still referencing me as the grandaughter who just lost a child. I went alone, my mom asked why I didn’t bring my other kids? I angrily said I think 1 funeral in 2 months is enough! Plus they never knew her that well, they cared for my Nonno because he was more active in visits with them but regardless, it was not necessary to parade them in front of a bunch of old family that they had never met, to watch their mom cry (again) all so she could show off her grandkids. Ugh.

Back to the story, I wore my trusty fedora to her funeral. A hat I wear with Italian pride. A hat I grew up watching my Nonno and Zeo’s wearing. A hat that masked me.

I walked into the room where immediate family is held before they enter the main room after all others have sat down. I sat beside my Nonno, whom I adored. And he looks at me, in my fedora and says ‘ why are you wearing my hat’? I say it’s my hat Nonno. I lift it to show my face and say it’s me Nonno, Sheri. He grabs my face as he does and says Nina, I never knew why (but always loved it) he and his brother Gino always called me Nina.

My mom told me this morning that Zeo Gino died today. That his funeral is next Wednesday (also happens to be my rainbows 6th birthday)

Let’s go back to the last time I saw Zeo Gino, was at my Nonnos funeral 2 years ago. Not well himself having a bad stroke after his son died. He looked at me, touched my face and said ‘Nina’! He had tears in his eyes, as my Nonno did seemingly every time I saw him after my Nonna died. He cried and said it wasn’t fair, that he lost his son and now his brother. I felt his pain. I hugged him. Others looked as if to wonder why I deserved this affection.

Now he is gone. I hope reunited with his son and his brother, my Nonno.

Why does the world work this way? Forcing us to think constantly about life and death as if we are not always thinking about life and death!

I dont know. I just know I am sad.

Thanks for reading.

Sheri

Capture your Grief 2018 : SUNSET

Day 31; Sunset

I took and wrote this back in 2012 during the epitimal raw first year of my grief for the death of my third born child, my first daughter. Lily Hall. Dec 30 2011- Feb 18 2012

I have edited the poem below to how I feel I prefer the end.

Sunset is the last of the days in the Capture your Grief Writing challenge, it makes sense, a sunset, the day is saying goodnight to world through the reflection of the sky.

Good night.

Thanks for sharing this journey with me.

Sheri

 

 

osoyoos 059

SUNSET

In awe of the sunset that reflects off the water

In sadness of the heart that reflects of you

In love with the beauty of you

Sheri Hall

The number Seven

I have always had an obsession with numbers, I have also always had a hard time falling and staying asleep, so I spent many nights awake as a child counting numbers, figuring out various equations to pass the hours of the night until I eventually drifted off to sleep. It is something I still do as an adult, although not as much.

You lived 52 days- 5 + 2 = 7

Your dad and I were married on 7th day of the 7th month in 2007 after 7 years together, we have now been together for 17.

You should be turning 7 this Christmas; and we will mourn the 7th anniversary of you death next February.


What is the meaning of the number 7?

“The number 7 is the seeker, the thinker, the searcher of Truth. The 7 doesn’t take anything at face value — it is always trying to understand the underlying, hidden truths. The 7 knows that nothing is exactly as it seems and that reality is often hidden behind illusions.”

My daughter, Hope,  that I had after Lily died, has just started kindergarten, I am immediately taken back 2 years to when Lily was supposed to start kindergarten and how hard I found seeing all those first day of kindergarten photos of friends with little girls the same age. Wondering how she would do, would she even have gone with all the disabilities she inevitably would have had because of her brain stem injury at birth.
In the past few weeks I have been re encountering the number 2, every day at 2:22 it seems my eyes are drawn to the clock, that has not happened since 2 years after she died, the 2 year mark, where all assume your ‘over it’ especially if you were lucky enough to have another after. I seem to stop running on the treadmill at 22mins, which ends up being 2 miles and it always says I burned about 220 calories.
Maybe I am obsessing, maybe they are sticking out because the number 2 has always been my number, I was born on the 2nd day of the 10th. Yes I share my birthday with Gandhi.

gandhi

SEVEN

Seven years of wonder;

Seven years of tears

Seven still haunts me as the date draws near

Seven is a passing that signifies change and growth

Seven is an age that you will never know

Seven is the number stuck in my head

Seven is what I dream of when I go to bed


*I wrote previously of angels numbers in this post below with more in depth information and links to how and what they are believed to be.
Thanks for reading,
Sheri