Sunday, April 20, 2014

Tree and tulips

Every holiday is like a marker of time, time that has continued on without my sweet baby boy here. And here we are, another Easter. Our third Easter without him. I just reread my posts from the first and second year. Turns out many of those feelings are still the same (even the religious struggle from last year, not really any progress there). It's just now I am trying to balance those feelings of sadness, grief, and the ache with the joy, happiness, and fun of creating traditions for Ethan. A lot of what I said in the post from last year, we are doing. It's also difficult to comprehend that last year when I was writing that post Marcellus would have been about the age Ethan is now (they are only 13.5 months apart after all). The things I was wondering about Marcellus last year, I'm getting to see and experience with Ethan. But I will never know what it would have been like last year (or this year, or any year) with Marcellus. While I can compare some developmental milestones and know that Marcellus may have been doing some of those, they are two very different little boys. And even though I don't know what Marcellus would exactly be like, I just know they would have such very different personalities. It was evident from the moment they were born (or in utero for that matter).

So far our day has consisted of bunny pancakes for breakfast. A really nice visit to Marcellus's tree. This is the first time we've been there since Ethan has been walking. He loved being there. He loved kissing the tree and touching the branches. He loved looking at the plaque. I know he loves his big brother.

Mommy and Ethan kissing Marcellus's tree.

I had just gotten done reading what the plaque said to Ethan and he went in for a kiss.

We have been so last minute on everything that we didn't have the Easter baskets ready until right before we went to the tree. Mike hid them, so that Ethan got to look for his right when we got back. Two baskets. One boy to find them. This year the boys got candy and plush toys from "their stories." Marcellus's story is Guess How Much I Love You. He got Little Nutbrown Hare that has the saying, "I love you right up to the moon and back" on it. Ethan's story is Kiss Goodnight and he got a new copy of it (his is a bit rough) and a plush Sam Bear. They both got chocolate bunnies. Ethan hasn't had his yet. He's napping now. We'll let him have it when he gets up. But Mike and I will share Marcellus's.

After I took the picture below Ethan grabbed both baskets and dumped them out playing with the contents. I couldn't help but think and I actually said out loud, "Hey, when you have dead brother you get more things to play with." I, of course, mean that in no way negative toward Ethan playing with Marcellus's things. In fact, I like him playing with Marcellus's things (and the outfit he has on in the pics above is one we bought for Marcellus's first birthday). It's that, he should have his brother here to fight with him about it. His brother to get upset when Ethan grabs at all of Marcellus's stuff.

The boys' Easter baskets. Marcellus's is on the right with a hare from Guess How Much I Love You. It reads, "I love you right up to the moon and back." Ethan's basket has Sam from, Kiss Goodnight.

But no brother here in this house. Just Ethan. Just one boy with two baskets to play with. And just some small ways to include Marcellus in our celebration. This year we couldn't find decent white tulips, so we got this orangey ones. Works out because orange is Marcellus's color (because of his pumpkin hat). 
Marcellus's tulips. We waited too last minute and couldn't find open white ones, so this year they are orange.

I've been crabby, snippy, just out of sorts the last few days. It's because I miss him. I miss my squirmy wormy. And I have to go through yet another holiday without him. Having his little brother here does bring me so much joy, but it will never take away the ache and longing I have for him. It will never make the fact that we went to visit a tree and got our "remembrance tulips" any better. It does force me to find balance. Balance in celebrating and grieving. Grieving and missing my son that is not here, but celebrating with and loving on my son that is here. And to do both without guilt. Let me tell you that part is the absolute hardest and I haven't mastered it yet.

But for now, for a bit longer while Ethan naps I am only sad. I only ache and I only grieve. I cry. I miss Marcellus.

Marcellus, Your tree was looking beautiful today. Thank you for the nice visit. I felt you in the breeze. I felt you in your brother's love for you. You are both such sweet boys. I am a lucky momma to have such amazing little boys. I miss you so much though, my squirmy wormy. We are going to do a little egg hunt with your brother when he wakes up. I don't know that he will try to pick up the eggs or not. He's not really one to stay focused on a predetermined task. But I bet it would be fun with you this year. I bet your face would light up when you found an egg. I hope you liked the Easter basket we put together for you. I hate that you are not here to see it yourself. I just miss you. That's all. I miss you and I love you. Forever and ever. Always. I love you right up to the moon and back. xoxox.

Friday, February 21, 2014

This house

We are moving tomorrow. We are leaving this house. Okay, it's really a town home and we are moving to another rental. The new rental is a single family home though with a yard and a garage. We are excited.

But we are leaving this house, this place that has been our home for the last 3.5 years. Yeah, it may just be a rental, but it has been our first real home. Our first place as a family.

We moved here right after we got married. Just Mike and I. We had lived together for two years before, but this was our first place as husband and wife. We got our dog about a month later. Perk, our first "child." We were building our home and our family.

And then the boys. Our two boys. So many memories for both in this house.

Marcellus. So many things of Marcellus. The only place we will have ever lived while he was alive on this earth. His pregnancy took place in this house. I found out I was pregnant with him. I remember Mike walking in the door to Perk in his "big brother" shirt. Taking my pregnancy photos next to he mantle. The night on the living room floor when Perk was licking my big belly and we were laughing hysterically.

And then there's October 28, 2011. The day Marcellus was born. The stairs of this house are the ones Mike carried me down when I was 28 weeks 5 days pregnant in labor with our first son. This is the house we came home to when I had to be discharged from the hospital without my baby (both times). This is the house where my midwife unexpectedly found me 10cm dilated on Oct 28 and then 6 days later she removed my stables from my c-section in this house.

This is the house we started to get ready for him. The extra bedroom filling with baby things. All for Marcellus. I vividly remember sitting on the floor of the extra bedroom sorting clothes my sister brought. Anxiously looking forward to the day Marcellus would wear them. And that mantle. The one where we had taken my belly shots next to. It's where we placed his cards. The congratulations we received for his birth. We placed them there at a time we never thought they cards we would receive for his death would outnumber them so greatly. And they stayed there. They stayed there for two years. We only just took them down around his 2nd birthday.

And then, this is the house we came home to when it no longer felt like a home. That day, November 9th, 2011, we came home to the painful silence of this house. I no longer wanted to be here. I hated it here yet I was a prisoner to this house.

We held a memorial service for Marcellus here a month after he died. His funeral was in MN and many of our NC friends never got to meet him. We wanted to share his life. To let them know him. I made poster boards for that memorial and they have been on the wall ever since. In fact, they are still there right now, they will probably be the last thing to leave the house.

You now what else is still out in this house. In our bedroom, tucked in a little cubby are some clothes. They are the clothes we wore the day he died. The clothes we were wearing as he took his last breath. They are the last things to touch Marcellus alive. And they have stayed unwashed in the cubby in our bedroom ever since we came home that day he died. Moving will make us deal with them, moreso, make me deal with them. I don't think they're as big of an issue for Mike. But for me, they have had this power. A power my therapist says I should not let them have. They are just clothes after all. They will not bring him back. So tomorrow, finally, those clothes will be packed up. They will stay unwashed and they will stay unworn. But they will be packed up as we leave this place.

Tonight Mike and I were talking about Marcellus, about how we feel leaving this house. He feels it too. That it's like we're leaving him behind, but we're not. Mike said to me, "We're not leaving him behind. We're bringing him with us. We are moving as a family." I needed that. I needed to hear those words. I will never leave him behind. Marcellus is always a part of this family. And where this family goes, he goes.

This house holds so much. For our marriage, for our family, for our boys. Not only is this where we "had" Marcellus, but this is where we brought Ethan home. Not quite a year ago we finally got to walk through the front doors of this house with a baby in tow. And once again this house felt like a home.

My mom used to have this calendar that had a quote from a homeless girl, "We have a home. We just need a house to put it in." That girl had it right. Through her experience so knew the true meaning of home. And I will hold on to that. We may be leaving this house, but our home is coming with us. Our family. Our home. 

Marcellus, Momma's having mixed feelings about moving tomorrow. We are excited to have a new place to live that will fit our needs better, but we are sad to leave. To leave the place that was to be your home. The place that became our home, which has always included you. You my sweet baby boy. You helped create this home. This house is just a physical shell. We will take our home and move it into a new shell, a new house, but it will still be our home. This house will still always hold a special place in our hearts. The mantle where we took pictures of my growing belly and placed your congratulations cards. The doorway where Daddy first found out about your existence. The kitchen where he made me homemade peanut brittle when I craved it out of season and it was nowhere to be found in stores. The stairs he carried me down so bravely when I was in labor with you. We may be leaving the place where these things occurred, but they are not leaving our memory or our hearts. I love you sweet baby boy. I love you right up to the moon and back. And I miss you so much. So so so much. xoxox.

Saturday, January 25, 2014


I want to lay face down on the floor, kick my legs, pound my fists and scream at the top of my lungs how unfair it is. I really probably should. To let out the emotion I haven't had a chance to release lately.

I can feel it building up inside of me. When I'm busy I can keep it at bay. I have other things to focus on. But when I slow down, when I have a quiet moment, I literally can feel it running through my veins.

I guess that's why lately on Saturday nights my heart gets so heavy and I feel the welling up. E is sleeping, Mike is at work. Only my thoughts to keep me company. And those thoughts have being going to Marcellus. My first born son, whose name I rarely get to speak out loud. So here I am, sitting by myself repeating his name out loud, "Marcellus. Marcellus. Marcellus. Marcellus Robert."

Tonight I caught myself doodling his name while I am supposed to be prepping lessons for the week. He's always on my mind, but tonight he sneaked to the front of my thoughts and ended up right there on my paper in what Mike calls,"circle letters."

I think 2 years 2 months 2 weeks and 2 days without my first son (huh, look at that...all 2's) is a legit reason for a grown woman to throw a tantrum. Just hope my second son doesn't wake up needing me when I'm a big mess of emotions.

Marcellus, it's so unfair that you are not here with us. Sometimes it makes me feel so out of control with my emotions and want to throw a tantrum. Really I should be dealing with your tantrums. At 2 years old, I'm sure you would be throwing them over something or other. Instead of helping you work through your uncharted emotions, I'm still trying to figure out the ones of my own. I don't even really know exactly what I'm feeling right now. I just know it's overwhelming and it sucks. I completely understand why toddlers throw tantrums. I miss you, my sweet boy. It's so unfair that I have to miss you! That I can't have you here with me. And of course, there's your little brother over the monitor. I love you so much!!! xoxox


Sunday, November 24, 2013

Too much

October 28th wasn't just Marcellus's birthday. It was her birthday too. Eleven, she turned 11. Angela Mae, the beautiful baby girl I placed for adoption when I was 17. Marcellus was born on her 9th birthday.

It's a semi-open adoption. I haven't seen her since her parents picked her up from the hospital when she was two days old. But I have gotten updates and pictures over the years. It's supposed to be twice a year, but I haven't heard from them since May 2012.

I have to admit I haven't sent her birthday present yet. It's all packed up and ready to go out in the morning. I bought it before her birthday. Their birthday. I've been getting her the Precious Moments Birthday Train every year. A keepsake for her to have. Plus, it's not like I know what she would want. So it's something I can get without wondering if she'll even like it. I've always sent her present last minute. So last minute that I'm sure it doesn't get to them before her birthday, especially because I have to send it to Catholic Charities and then they mail it off to Angela. But this is the first time I've put it in the mail after her birthday. And to top it off it's almost a month after.

Why did I put it off? So many reasons. 1) Marcellus's birthday. October 28th is his birthday and I am an emotional wreck during that time. 2) Not getting an update from her parents is upsetting. I try to tell myself that maybe they're just waiting for me to send something to them (I've always written to them). And so if I don't get something sent out then there's a reason they're not sending it. Does that make sense? In a way it's me trying to be in control of something I'm not. I fear that they have just stopped writing to me and I will never get another update ever again. 3) Ethan. I have honestly been meaning to write to them since Ethan came home from the NICU. To send them his birth/coming home announcement. Then time went on and I didn't get it sent out, so I wanted to print a couple of recent pictures of him to send with. I just put it off and put it off. But the biggest reason is....

It's all just too much sometimes.

This motherhood journey of mine (which reminds me I never even came close to completing that "series" I was going to start) is so damn complicated. I mean it is complicated! 

My only full-term pregnancy, non NICU baby is the one I got pregnant with at 16 and placed for adoption when I was 17. I waited until the "right" time to have another baby, to be married to the most wonderful husband, be financially responsible, and emotionally ready to expand our family. I got pregnant for the second time when we were trying for a baby, a baby that was loved and wanted so much before he even existed on this earth. But that baby died. He was born over 11 weeks early and he died. Born on his big sister's birthday (weird to say it like that, but I guess biologically she is). But not here to celebrate. Then we are ready again. Still with my loving wonderful husband, trying for a baby that is wanted beyond want, pushing through the fear to do it all again. And that baby, that baby is born over 12 weeks early. We spend 10 long long long loooooooong weeks in the NICU fearing for his life. But we are so very blessed to have him here now.

Think about it. That baby, he's my third baby. Ethan is my third child, second son. But he is the only one keeping me up at night. He is the only one needing my attention and physical love on a daily basis. He is the only one I parent on this earth. He is the only one I will ever hear call me "Momma." He is the only one that has been put to my breast. It is so so so complicated. The only thing simple about this all is how much love I have for each of my children. All three of them.

But it can be too much. It can be too much to think of it all at the same time. So, sometimes I put off my feelings about Angela. Often times actually. She has a beautiful family, she is well taken care of and she is so loved. Not only by me, but by her parents, her big brother, and I'm sure so many others. I will always love her with all my heart. But sometimes I can't go there with my emotions. It's the drop that would open the flood gates. It's too much. Too much too much too much. It's hard enough that my second child, my first son is dead. I can't get into the "what ifs" and the grief of having placed Angela for adoption. My grieving priority right now is Marcellus. Marcellus is a part of our every day lives, but Angela is not. Yes, I think about her every day. I really do. But not in the way that I think of Marcellus. But I do miss her.

I do remind myself that I do not regret my decision though. These last 11 years have been such a long journey. And I have really come a far way in accepting the decision I made as a scared, unprepared, overwhelmed teenager just trying to do the best I could for my baby. I made that decision out of love for her and I can never regret any decision I make for my children that is based solely on my love for them.

Marcellus, I hope you don't mind sharing part of your space with Angela. I never got a chance to tell you about her. During my pregnancy with you I struggled with what I would tell you. Her picture is up in our house. In fact, in many of my "pregnancy shots" with you her picture is visible on the mantle. She turned my heart into a mother heart. She taught me how a mother loves. I was able to take what she has taught me and pour it into you during your short time here. You expanded my mother heart a thousand fold. It's amazing how much love one heart can hold. Now I wonder what I will tell Ethan about her some day. We already talk to him about you a lot. What will Ethan make of the fact that he is the third child, but the "oldest" child that is with us. It's so confusing for me to think about. Oh baby boy, I miss you so much. I miss you so so so so much. I have the hope of seeing Angela again on this earth. I hold onto that home that she'll want to meet me someday. But you  my sweet boy, there will never be another moment with you on this earth every again. Those 12 days we had, those have to last us through this lifetime. And I cherish those 12 days. They are held tightly within my mother heart. I will never let them go. I love you my squirmy wormy. I love and miss you! xoxox

Thursday, November 14, 2013

To all my pregnant friends

Dear pregnant friends,

There are a lot of you right now. And in fact, when I first started thinking of writing this blog post there were even more of you. So, I guess this could be titled, “To all my pregnant friends and those with newborns.” I’ve put off writing this post because well, I don’t want to make anyone upset. I don’t want to offend you. That’s not my intent. You have done nothing wrong at all. This post is about my feelings, about the way I portray things. I need to sort it out, I need to let go.

First of all, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been absent in the excitement of your pregnancy. I should be sharing in your joy, but I can’t always do that. And since I can’t always do that, I distance myself. You see, I am excited for you. I am happy for you. I am overjoyed for you. But a lot of times the jealous, fear, and resentment either overshadow those feelings or I have to work very very hard at keeping them at bay. Now again, these feelings aren’t directed at you. Specifically I want to make sure you know I do not resent you. It is an inward resentment. Let me clarify where these feelings come from.

The jealously…I am so jealous of your beautiful pregnancy. You may be sick, you may be big, you may be achy, you may be getting anxious…but you have no idea how amazing that all is. Well, you probably do have an idea, I know you all treasure your pregnancies. But I don’t think you can truly understand, not the way I do (and that’s okay, that’s good because that means you haven’t had the same experiences I have). You are all well into your third trimester. I am so jealous of that. The third trimester…I made it 5 days into it (going by the definition of 28 weeks) with Marcellus and I was 3 days shy of it with Ethan. I would give anything to feel as big as a house, to not fit into any of my clothes, ache from carrying around a huge belly. Sometimes I wonder if you have thought about that. When you hit 27/28 weeks, did you think about what it would be like if your baby was born then? Did you think of my boys? I know...your pregnancy is about you and that sweet precious child you are carrying, not about me. I know. But this post is...this post is about me and my feelings and those are some of the things I wonder.

And the maternity photos. I've seen some of your pictures. They are gorgeous. And I'm so jealous. I want that. I want to have nice pictures of me pregnant with my boys. But I don't. I never even got them scheduled with Marcellus. I came very close to having them with Ethan. Even scheduled them way early "just in case." But he was born the day before we were going to do them. 

The fear, oh I have fear whenever anyone close to me is pregnant. I have to be careful not to project that on to you. You shouldn't go through your pregnancy in fear just because I did. And if my baby dying or my boys being born prematurely has taken away even the least bit of your naivety toward pregnancy, I'm truly sorry for that. Sometimes naivety can be a blessing. I know I wish I could go back to being naive in pregnancy like I was with Marcellus. I didn't know anyone personally who's baby had died. It was a foreign concept that didn't cross my mind. 

Now the resentment, the resentment is a big one. But like I mentioned before it is an internal resentment. Toward myself, my body, my inability to make it as far into pregnancy as you are. Again, I am so excited for you, but why can't I have that too? Why are my babies born so early? Why did one of my babies die? Why did I have to spend 10 weeks worth of nights away from one of them with many of those days/nights fearing for his life? 

So when I see a picture of you with your awesome belly, it stings a bit. When I read about you getting the nursery ready, it stings a bit. When I read about how far a long you are and the number starts with a "thirty", it stings a bit. But I am also so happy. And I can be both. I can be excited for you and sad for myself. I have to stop thinking I will only feel excited/happy. I am still grieving. I am still grieving from both of my pregnancies. There's a lot I've missed out on and I need to grieve that. 

I am not writing this post to ask you to change anything you are doing. I am writing it to explain my silence and absence. I am writing it to sort out the mix of emotions in my head. Sometimes I try to make things black and white. Your pregnancy is a happy thing, so I try to make myself only feel happy about it. But I need to allow myself to feel what I feel. And in doing so I am not taking away from the celebration of your pregnancy. So please, don't ever hesitate to share about your pregnancy. I like seeing your beautiful round belly. I especially like knowing you and your sweet baby are healthy and everything is going smoothly. I am thankful you have that. I just want it too. 

You all are amazing mommies and I can't wait to meet your little bundles of joy. I know you are aware how blessed you are. And if you get anything from my experiences, I hope it's to not take a moment of your pregnancy or motherhood for granted. It's all just so beautiful. I love you all!


Saturday, November 9, 2013

How did we survive?

Marcellus's birthday was 12 days ago, which means today is that day.

His birthday is and always will be a reason to celebrate. What a happy and joyous day October 28th, 2011 was in our lives. We were meeting our firstborn son for the very first time. Although we were scared of the unknown of the NICU and having a preemie, we were absolutely on top of the world. I will forever celebrate the day my sweet boy was born.

But today, today is the anniversary of his death. It marks what can only be described as the most awful, horrible, difficult day...that we somehow lived through. I thought my heart would stop beating right along with his, that I would die when he did, that my world would end when his life on this earth ended. But somehow we have survived. I am here, still standing, still living two years later.

Two years...two years since I held my baby boy with life in him. Two years ago he slipped away from us. Two damn years. And today, two years later...I hurt. I ache. I yearn. I wonder what might have been if this day didn't represent what it does. 

Overall I have been enjoying life lately. Always missing Marcellus, always wishing he where here, always aching for him. But I have figured out a way to do be happy and grieve at the same time. But not today. Today I just grieve. I will do what I need to go get through today. I will do my best for Ethan today and take care of him as I would any other day. In fact, I have been squeezing him tighter, kissing him more, telling him how much I love him and his brother every few minutes. But I hate today. I will not pretend life is good today. Today sucks. 

But for some reason we survived that day two years ago even though Marcellus didn't. I still don't understand it, I'm sure I never will. How does a parent go on after their child dies? I will never be able to answer that question with anything other than, "you just do" even though we have. I don't know how. But it's not like we were given a choice. 

Marcellus Robert, my sweet baby boy...I miss you and love you so very much. I can't believe it's been two years since that horrible, awful day. You fought so hard, so very hard. You are forever my little warrior. I know you wanted to stay and I am so proud of you. But
I can't believe what happened to you that day. I can't believe I held you, my beautiful baby in my arms, as your little heart stopped beating. If you had to die though, in a way I am thankful I was there to hold you through it. To tell you how much I love you as your beautiful soul left this earth. I hope I brought you some comfort that day. As your mother that is the most important thing I did for be there for you that day...that horrible, awful day. I love you right up to the moon and back always and forever! xoxox

Saturday, October 26, 2013

This time of year

The fall colors are beautiful, the air is refreshingly crisp. Two things I love about this time of year. But it is that time of year. The time of year in which my precious baby boy was born and died. The leaves changing, the pumpkin spice everywhere, the state fair going on, mums on the doorstep.They remind me of him. Of the end of my pregnancy. My wonderful, easy, perfect, no sign anything was going to go wrong pregnancy.

It is his birthday weekend. If he were here this is probably when we would have his party since his birthday is on Monday. Last year the day before his birthday I was in the ER for 5 hours freaking out something was wrong with my pregnancy with Ethan (I was about 20 weeks at the time). I was a mess. My emotions causing physical "symptoms" to make me think the baby I was carrying would also be born early and die (well, I guess I did have something to worry about since the first part ended up true).

Last year on Marcellus's birthday we had a celebration with friends. We did a balloon release and had them over for brunch and cake to honor our baby boy. This year, we are staying low key. We've been so busy. We really just need to take the day to be together as a family. To make Marcellus's birthday a time of celebration and thankfulness for his life. To show Ethan just how much his big brother is loved, remembered, missed and always a part of our family.

It really started to hit me on Wednesday that Marcellus's birthday is getting close. The tears have started to come at random times. The other day it was while pumping at work for Ethan, today it was while putting Ethan down for a nap. Maybe they come when I am doing things as Ethan's mommy because I don't get to do those things as Marcellus's mommy.

I can't believe he should be turning 2. How does that happen? How has the world kept turning for 2 years? seems so unreal. It feels like forever and an instant all at the same time. And those 12 days, I will forever hold onto those 12 days. Those 12 amazing, precious, glorious days of being Marcellus's mommy with him on this earth. I forever am his mommy, but I no longer get to be his mommy. I do not get to mother him as I do his baby brother. And that will always cause my mother heart to ache. I will always long for those 12 days when I did not know this pain. When I did not know this world of babies dying and that a mother could survive that.

Those 12 days. I am thankful that last year I took the time to write a blog post for each of those 12 days. This year I will be taking some quiet time to read them and reflect. Since Ethan was also in the NICU I have to admit that sometimes I don't know if a particular memory is with Marcellus or Ethan. It makes me a bit upset to have that blur. I wanted Marcellus's memories to be clear, to be distinct, to never fade.

Mommy and Marcellus when he was 1 week old
I currently have the above picture as my Facebook profile. A friend commented how this is a moment I will forever cherish. She knows first hand as she has also lost a child, but even so I can not stress to anyone how much I will forever and always cherish this moment with my sweet boy. As much of a blur as most things are there are moments that stand out. Holding Marcellus for the first time will always been one and so will the above moment. My mom and sister had left earlier that day and I was bummed. I was emotional and also had some discomfort from my c-section. But then this moment came. My baby boy in my arms, on my chest, skin to skin with me. I can still remember just how "melty" (as I called it) he was, how wonderful he smelled, and how amazing it all felt. I didn't even know Mike was taking pictures. I was just breathing in my baby boy, my son. And his smell, so sweet. I wish I could smell him again. His pumpkin hat (in the picture) held his scent for a little bit, but almost 2 years later it is no longer there. I was smelling Ethan today while laying with him to try to catch a bit of Marcellus and while I'd say they smell similar it wasn't quite the same. Don't get me wrong, Ethan smells pretty awesome too and I definitely love to breath him. In fact, I do it a lot. A lot a lot. But today I was smelling him with the longing for Marcellus on my mind, so it was a bit different.

I miss him so much. I can't even begin to say. No matter how many joyous wonderful things are in my life I will always miss him so much. And now that I'm taking the time to slow down a bit, to write, it is flooding me. He is really gone. That sweet little baby in that picture, that's my son, that is me with my son and he is not here. I should be getting ready for his 2nd birthday party. I miss him. I am so thankful for all I have, but I ache for that moment in that picture.
If my sweet baby boy has touched your life in anyway, please join us in honoring him during his birthday. This could be by lighting a candle, enjoying a cupcake, donating a toy, doing a random act of kindness, writing his name in a creative way, or anything else you can think of to celebrate my first born son (and I'd love to see a picture if your able to get one!). Thank you all for your continued love and support as we navigate this life missing our squirmy wormy.

Marcellus, Momma can't believe your second birthday is coming up so soon. What would it be like to have you here and throwing you a party? What theme would we have...would you have a favorite character? Would you want cars, trucks, or trains? I would have done whatever you wanted. I miss you so much my squirmy wormy. So so so very much. I remember that day in the picture. Holding you for so longer, breathing you in and losing myself in the moment. Even though we were in the NICU with nurses, all the other babies, the parents, even Daddy near that moment it was just you and I my love. Just Mommy and Marcellus. One of the most beautiful moments of my life. Thank you baby boy for giving me that moment. I love you so very much. Some days I am just amazed at how much I can love both you and your little brother. It's so wonderfully intense. On your birthday we will be celebrating your life. Although it was beyond too short, we are so thankful to have had those 12 days with you. And I know that little life of yours has made a big difference in this world. But oh how I wish it were different and you were here with us now. I miss and love you my sweet boy! xoxox.