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| Very happy in his environment, thanks to much assistance from our Dr. and some "lovely" progesterone shots weekly. |
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| Yes, he's smiling. The tech commented on it. |
Thursday, January 20, 2011
OK....24 weeks and counting...whew!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
What is normal??
What is Normal??
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize that someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.
Normal is feeling like you know how to act or feeling more comfortable at a funeral than at a wedding...yet feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers or see a casket.
Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what ifs or why didn't I's go through your head constantly.
Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.
Normal is having the tv on the minute you walk into the house for the noise, because the silence is deafening.
Normal is starring at babies who look like they are my babies age and wondering if that is what my baby would look like and be doing.
Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.
Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it was an everyday activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds, and yet realizing that it has become part of my "Normal".
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and his birthday and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon that fits the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really!
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.
Normal is making sure that others remember him.
Normal is after the service is over, everyone else goes on with their life, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to lose your own child is unnatural.
Normal is realizing that I DO cry everyday.
Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals or bodies, when you know they were someones loved one.
Normal is sitting at the computer crying sharing how you feel with online buddies who have also lost a child.
Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in Australia, Canada, England, and all over the USA, but yet never have met any of them face to face.
Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this because...." I love God, I know that my baby is in Heaven, but hearing people try to think up excuses as to why babies are taken from this earth are not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.
Normal is wondering whether this time you are going to say you have four children, or three, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in Heaven. And yet when you say that you have three children to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your baby.
Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours.
Normal is knowing that I will never get over this loss, in a day or in a million years. and last of all...
Normal is hiding all the things that have become your "new normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".
~author unknown
Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize that someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.
Normal is feeling like you know how to act or feeling more comfortable at a funeral than at a wedding...yet feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers or see a casket.
Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what ifs or why didn't I's go through your head constantly.
Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.
Normal is having the tv on the minute you walk into the house for the noise, because the silence is deafening.
Normal is starring at babies who look like they are my babies age and wondering if that is what my baby would look like and be doing.
Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.
Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it was an everyday activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds, and yet realizing that it has become part of my "Normal".
Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and his birthday and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon that fits the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really!
Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.
Normal is making sure that others remember him.
Normal is after the service is over, everyone else goes on with their life, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.
Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.
Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to lose your own child is unnatural.
Normal is realizing that I DO cry everyday.
Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals or bodies, when you know they were someones loved one.
Normal is sitting at the computer crying sharing how you feel with online buddies who have also lost a child.
Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in Australia, Canada, England, and all over the USA, but yet never have met any of them face to face.
Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.
Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this because...." I love God, I know that my baby is in Heaven, but hearing people try to think up excuses as to why babies are taken from this earth are not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.
Normal is wondering whether this time you are going to say you have four children, or three, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in Heaven. And yet when you say that you have three children to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your baby.
Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours.
Normal is knowing that I will never get over this loss, in a day or in a million years. and last of all...
Normal is hiding all the things that have become your "new normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal".
~author unknown
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