Just got back from the cemetary to pay Colton a visit on Christmas Eve day. I took him new flowers and his Daddy wrapped him up a little gift which we opened. We played some Christmas music and tried to make it a happy time, rather than sad. I have realized this year that it really feels almost as if its our first Christmas without Colton because last year was such a blur. I'm sure the pain isn't quite as great but the reality is much stronger.
We made it through Colton's Angel Day just fine. The day itself was filled with activities and love. I am surrounded by family, friends and support who continually allow me to share Colton and honor him with others. That means a lot. After his Angel Day I did feel a sort of relief. A sense that a last milestone had been passed. A lightning of the load that meant I had fully lived through every memory and emotion at least once. I know passing the year mark won't miraculously make it better, but I'm still standing. I might be wounded but I'm still here. I feel like I can begin to look forward and find my new path, but with a little buddy always with me. Its time for me to find a new partner and try to build a new family. Its going to be a scary journey, but Colton will be by my side, cheering me on. I know I can do this because I've made it through a year I could have never imagined.
I never wanted to have to visit my son on Christmas anywhere but in my own home, but as I stared at his picture hanging on his little tree, I do feel blessed and I can smile. It is moments like these that I know mean I'm moving forward. That on the eve of Christmas I can look at his photo and smile. I still miss him like crazy and I've learned to accept that missing him doesn't mean that I haven't made progress.
I will light a candle tonight for him and sit in front of my tree, playing Christmas music and picturing him ripping tissue and wrapping paper. It is the Christmas I can have with him in my thoughts.
I hope you all have a peaceful holiday and give a little wink to the stars tonight for little Colton. Merry Christmas.
The NICU adventures of Colton Chilla as he grew and the journey of his mommy after he became an angel.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Hours with Colton
I've been very busy today, filled with work and to-do's but the back of my brain is filled with the memories of what today last year was like. This was the last "full day" we had with Colton. It was pretty amazing.
Colton at this point was pretty much drugged to the max in order to keep the siezures under control. In fact, they had to give him a paralytic so he would tolerate being moved from his isolette to kangaroo. It was not an easy process by any means, but the nurses and RT's would do anything for us. Nobody other than myself and Donny had held him the entire four months. We always thought we had time later. Well, we wanted his grandmas to get to hold him. So on this day, Colton shared special moments with both his grandmas and his aunt. They got to hold him, smell him and feel his warmth. It was the epitomy of bittersweet. I was so proud to see him held by my mom but it never left me that this was the only time I would ever see that.
Colton got shared that day with his family and I feel thankful that he had that time with them. After everyone left for the day, Colton and I got some time alone. Just me and him. It was the first time in days that we had totally alone time. We rocked and I leaned my cheek on his head, closed my eyes and held him tight. I had his flat teddy with us and a blanket and it was so cozy and warm. Throughout Colton's life I always felt so at peace when I held him and rocked. No matter what else was going on, if he was having a bad day or I was, it all melted away when we kangarooed. I haven't had that feeling since and I so miss it. Just hours of peace and love and warmth. I felt like I was protecting him, that my arms wrapped around him would keep out all the bad stuff. I felt like he was cozy and warm and could hear my heart beat like when he was still inside.
As we rocked, even knowing that it was one of the last times I would ever do this with him, I still felt that sense of peace. All was calm, all was right. As we rocked something made me open my eyes and look down at his face. There was my little Colton, drugged up to the max, looking up with his eyes wide open. We hadn't seen his eyes open in days. When he looked at me I immediately felt this sense of "it's ok mommy, I'm ready to go." I remember saying, "hi baby! I miss those eyes!". He stayed awake for a few minutes and then drifted back off to sleep again. I had been second guessing our decision all day and it really felt like he was giving me a sign that it was ok.
Donny came in about 10 that night to take over and I passed Colton over to his daddy. I went him to prepare for the long day ahead. When Donny got home in the middle of the night, he said to me, "Colton opened his eyes and looked at me and it felt like he was telling me goodbye." I melted. Donny and I hadn't discussed that Colton had opened his eyes for me at all, nor had we talked about how I felt. It was just another of Colton's little gifts of peace.
Colton at this point was pretty much drugged to the max in order to keep the siezures under control. In fact, they had to give him a paralytic so he would tolerate being moved from his isolette to kangaroo. It was not an easy process by any means, but the nurses and RT's would do anything for us. Nobody other than myself and Donny had held him the entire four months. We always thought we had time later. Well, we wanted his grandmas to get to hold him. So on this day, Colton shared special moments with both his grandmas and his aunt. They got to hold him, smell him and feel his warmth. It was the epitomy of bittersweet. I was so proud to see him held by my mom but it never left me that this was the only time I would ever see that.
Colton got shared that day with his family and I feel thankful that he had that time with them. After everyone left for the day, Colton and I got some time alone. Just me and him. It was the first time in days that we had totally alone time. We rocked and I leaned my cheek on his head, closed my eyes and held him tight. I had his flat teddy with us and a blanket and it was so cozy and warm. Throughout Colton's life I always felt so at peace when I held him and rocked. No matter what else was going on, if he was having a bad day or I was, it all melted away when we kangarooed. I haven't had that feeling since and I so miss it. Just hours of peace and love and warmth. I felt like I was protecting him, that my arms wrapped around him would keep out all the bad stuff. I felt like he was cozy and warm and could hear my heart beat like when he was still inside.
As we rocked, even knowing that it was one of the last times I would ever do this with him, I still felt that sense of peace. All was calm, all was right. As we rocked something made me open my eyes and look down at his face. There was my little Colton, drugged up to the max, looking up with his eyes wide open. We hadn't seen his eyes open in days. When he looked at me I immediately felt this sense of "it's ok mommy, I'm ready to go." I remember saying, "hi baby! I miss those eyes!". He stayed awake for a few minutes and then drifted back off to sleep again. I had been second guessing our decision all day and it really felt like he was giving me a sign that it was ok.
Donny came in about 10 that night to take over and I passed Colton over to his daddy. I went him to prepare for the long day ahead. When Donny got home in the middle of the night, he said to me, "Colton opened his eyes and looked at me and it felt like he was telling me goodbye." I melted. Donny and I hadn't discussed that Colton had opened his eyes for me at all, nor had we talked about how I felt. It was just another of Colton's little gifts of peace.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Last Days
I feel like we've entered into the last days of a long marathon, reliving Colton's last days. Its really difficult to put it into words how much it is in the back of your mind all the time in these pivotal days. Maybe its the weather, maybe its looking at the date on the calendar. I look back on my blog posts from last year and think about some of the choices I made then and realize what shock I was in. At the time, I thought I had it all together, but I know now that in a way, I had to detach just a bit to cope. I'd like to share a bit more of what we went through those last few days. I'm hoping to make an entry each of the next few days up until Colton's Angel Day.
At this point last year, Colton has just had his 24 hour EEG study because he was suffering from ongoing, uncontrollable siezures. After being off the vent for about 3 weeks, he had to go back on because of all the meds on board. It was painful to watch what was happening to him. He had gone from a calm, relaxed baby to one without control of his limbs, sensitive to sound, touch and light. The siezures wracked his little body. The worst part was that because of the EEG and his instability we were unable to hold him at all for over a week. That was the one comfort Colton (and me) had and we couldn't do it. In my heart of hearts I think I knew where we were headed, but at the same time I was in a bit of denial. Colton had rebounded before, maybe he would now.
The day the neurologist was to come and read the EEG study, our nurse Cindy was on with Colton. I had been there in the afternoon and hoped to catch the neurologist. I think it was about 4:30 and I headed out to go home. As I was getting onto the elevator to leave I saw the neurologist get off the elevator and head toward the NICU. I knew he was going to read Colton's study. I stood there. One part of me wanted to follow, the other wanted to run. Denial kicked in again and I headed into the elevator.
I got home that evening and called in about an hour after I had left to check on Colton and talk to Cindy. When she picked up the line I knew in her voice something was wrong. What she shared with me was to forever change the course of our lives, but what a blessing she gave me. You see, nurses aren't supposed to deliver news that the doctors would give. But dear Cindy, ever the rule-bender, had our best interests at heart. She told me that she didn't want me to be caught off-guard in our doctor meeting that was scheduled the next day. I said, ok. She said I'm so sorry, but its really bad. My heart started racing at that point and my eyes welled up. The lump in my throat felt like it was going to choke me. I asked Cindy, "how bad? Is it we're going to lose him bad?" She couldn't answer anymore questions and I could tell she was having a hard time holding it together on the other end. Her voice was shaking and she just said "I'm so sorry." I knew. I knew. I knew. I hung up the phone and crumbled into a ball on my bed. I sobbed and shook. It was so surreal, I didn't really know what to do. I called Donny and told him to come home from work. After that I don't really know what happened. Honestly I don't remember. I just know it was like a dream, well I guess a nightmare. It was obvious where we were headed but I still needed someone to say the words to me.
The next morning Donny and I got up, went through the motions of getting ready and headed up to CHOC to see Colton before the big meeting. His condition was much the same as the day before but there was a clear shift in the dynamic with the nurses. His nurse on duty that day asked me when the last time I held Colton was. I said over a week ago. She said, well we are going to fix that and immediately they went to work on getting it done. I saw the sad looks from other nurses and RT's. I had a few come up and hug me. I still hadn't heard the words yet, but the air was different. Looking back now they had shifted into palliative care, I just didn't see it. I'm sad because I dont' really remember kangarooing with him that day. I know I did it, but I don't have a memory of it. So much happened so fast in those days. I have such crystal clear memories of some things and others are just a complete blur. I wish I could remember every moment I had with Colton, but my brain just didn't retain it all.
The time came when we had to go to the doctor meeting. We put Colton back into his isolette and headed down the hall to the conference room. I didnt' know what to expect but bless the staff. We had a full house. All of our support people were there that had held our hands through our journey at CHOC. Some even came in on their day off to be with us. We all sat around the table waiting for the neurologist to arrive. Nurses, social worker, family services coordinator, neonatologist, us. All sitting around a table waiting for the inevitable words to come. The neurologist was late, he bustled in seeming flustered and sat down at the table. He was very cold, very matter of fact. I have seen more empathy from a flea biting a dog. But it is what it is. Maybe its the way I needed to hear the news. He said, (and I paraphrase) the damage to your son's brain is profound. He will never walk, he will never talk, he will never eat on his own, he will most likely never leave the hospital. There is too much damage.
I sat there hearing the blood rushing through my ears. I had one question. I don't know why I had to ask it but I did. I asked the neurologist, "was Colton born with a normal brain?" He said yes. And there it was. We did this to him. We ruined him. Because he was born so early, because he had a VSD, because he was given so many meds his poor little brain was assaulted and ruined. I know logically that everyone did their best. But there will always be a part of me that feels like Colton was born perfect and we ruined him. I'll never know his potential. I'll never know his voice. I'll never know his cry. I'll never know his hugs and kisses. I'll never know what he wanted to be when he grew up. I'll never know happy holidays with him. All of that died with his poor little brain.
The neurologist jumped up at that point and promptly left. He left us shattered. The neonatologist (who was much more senstive, thankfully) told us that we now had to make some decisions. We had the choice of removing support, or doing a DNR. Donny and I had already discussed that we wanted to remove support because of the truama and fight Colton had been through. We second guessed ourselves over the next days but it was the decision that we had made. We hadn't thought past the initial decision and we had to discuss when we would remove support. I had to choose the day and time my son would die. It was an excruciatingly heavy burden then and still is now. That I had to make that choice. Its so unnatural that a parent should have to do that. The neonatologist left us to talk further and when he left I crumbled. I remember putting my face in my hands and sobbing. I heard Donny sitting next to me sobbing. I looked up and saw tears running down everyone else's faces at the table. SO much love for one little boy, who we now had to let go.
Much after this is again, a blur. I recall them saying that they would move Colton into a private room, and that all the rules were essentially lifted for us. We didn't have to leave at shift change and we didn't have to be present for family members to come see him. I think we stayed with him for a few more hours after that.
We quickly made decisions about what we wanted to do. We knew we wanted him baptized. We knew we wanted others to get to hold him. We came home that evening and started making phone calls. I was exhausted. I remember making call after call. Telling the same story over and over again. I felt robotic, like it wasn't really happening to me. I would drift in and out of feeling detached to feeling like someone was sticking a hot poker in my chest. I sat down to write a blog entry to let everyone know what was happening. I wrote an email to my clients explaining why I wouldn't be available the next few days. Who was this happening to? This wasn't supposed to be my life. I was supposed to have Colton and bring him home and have him grow up with his cousin and be a mommy. Shockingly I did sleep that night. I think I was just too exhausted not to.
The last thing I remember about that day is that the last thing I did each night before I went to sleep was to pump. I had the pump on the nightstand next to my bed. I looked at it and realized that I no longer needed to pump. I guess I had to let my milk dry up now. For four months I had to fight for every stinkin drop of that milk. I had to take drugs that made me exhausted to help with it and even my girlfriend had to supplement my milk with hers when Colton was eating more than I could produce. Everything had been such a fight. And now I had to lose that too. It was the final admission of what was to come. I hated that pump. And now I already missed it.
At this point last year, Colton has just had his 24 hour EEG study because he was suffering from ongoing, uncontrollable siezures. After being off the vent for about 3 weeks, he had to go back on because of all the meds on board. It was painful to watch what was happening to him. He had gone from a calm, relaxed baby to one without control of his limbs, sensitive to sound, touch and light. The siezures wracked his little body. The worst part was that because of the EEG and his instability we were unable to hold him at all for over a week. That was the one comfort Colton (and me) had and we couldn't do it. In my heart of hearts I think I knew where we were headed, but at the same time I was in a bit of denial. Colton had rebounded before, maybe he would now.
The day the neurologist was to come and read the EEG study, our nurse Cindy was on with Colton. I had been there in the afternoon and hoped to catch the neurologist. I think it was about 4:30 and I headed out to go home. As I was getting onto the elevator to leave I saw the neurologist get off the elevator and head toward the NICU. I knew he was going to read Colton's study. I stood there. One part of me wanted to follow, the other wanted to run. Denial kicked in again and I headed into the elevator.
I got home that evening and called in about an hour after I had left to check on Colton and talk to Cindy. When she picked up the line I knew in her voice something was wrong. What she shared with me was to forever change the course of our lives, but what a blessing she gave me. You see, nurses aren't supposed to deliver news that the doctors would give. But dear Cindy, ever the rule-bender, had our best interests at heart. She told me that she didn't want me to be caught off-guard in our doctor meeting that was scheduled the next day. I said, ok. She said I'm so sorry, but its really bad. My heart started racing at that point and my eyes welled up. The lump in my throat felt like it was going to choke me. I asked Cindy, "how bad? Is it we're going to lose him bad?" She couldn't answer anymore questions and I could tell she was having a hard time holding it together on the other end. Her voice was shaking and she just said "I'm so sorry." I knew. I knew. I knew. I hung up the phone and crumbled into a ball on my bed. I sobbed and shook. It was so surreal, I didn't really know what to do. I called Donny and told him to come home from work. After that I don't really know what happened. Honestly I don't remember. I just know it was like a dream, well I guess a nightmare. It was obvious where we were headed but I still needed someone to say the words to me.
The next morning Donny and I got up, went through the motions of getting ready and headed up to CHOC to see Colton before the big meeting. His condition was much the same as the day before but there was a clear shift in the dynamic with the nurses. His nurse on duty that day asked me when the last time I held Colton was. I said over a week ago. She said, well we are going to fix that and immediately they went to work on getting it done. I saw the sad looks from other nurses and RT's. I had a few come up and hug me. I still hadn't heard the words yet, but the air was different. Looking back now they had shifted into palliative care, I just didn't see it. I'm sad because I dont' really remember kangarooing with him that day. I know I did it, but I don't have a memory of it. So much happened so fast in those days. I have such crystal clear memories of some things and others are just a complete blur. I wish I could remember every moment I had with Colton, but my brain just didn't retain it all.
The time came when we had to go to the doctor meeting. We put Colton back into his isolette and headed down the hall to the conference room. I didnt' know what to expect but bless the staff. We had a full house. All of our support people were there that had held our hands through our journey at CHOC. Some even came in on their day off to be with us. We all sat around the table waiting for the neurologist to arrive. Nurses, social worker, family services coordinator, neonatologist, us. All sitting around a table waiting for the inevitable words to come. The neurologist was late, he bustled in seeming flustered and sat down at the table. He was very cold, very matter of fact. I have seen more empathy from a flea biting a dog. But it is what it is. Maybe its the way I needed to hear the news. He said, (and I paraphrase) the damage to your son's brain is profound. He will never walk, he will never talk, he will never eat on his own, he will most likely never leave the hospital. There is too much damage.
I sat there hearing the blood rushing through my ears. I had one question. I don't know why I had to ask it but I did. I asked the neurologist, "was Colton born with a normal brain?" He said yes. And there it was. We did this to him. We ruined him. Because he was born so early, because he had a VSD, because he was given so many meds his poor little brain was assaulted and ruined. I know logically that everyone did their best. But there will always be a part of me that feels like Colton was born perfect and we ruined him. I'll never know his potential. I'll never know his voice. I'll never know his cry. I'll never know his hugs and kisses. I'll never know what he wanted to be when he grew up. I'll never know happy holidays with him. All of that died with his poor little brain.
The neurologist jumped up at that point and promptly left. He left us shattered. The neonatologist (who was much more senstive, thankfully) told us that we now had to make some decisions. We had the choice of removing support, or doing a DNR. Donny and I had already discussed that we wanted to remove support because of the truama and fight Colton had been through. We second guessed ourselves over the next days but it was the decision that we had made. We hadn't thought past the initial decision and we had to discuss when we would remove support. I had to choose the day and time my son would die. It was an excruciatingly heavy burden then and still is now. That I had to make that choice. Its so unnatural that a parent should have to do that. The neonatologist left us to talk further and when he left I crumbled. I remember putting my face in my hands and sobbing. I heard Donny sitting next to me sobbing. I looked up and saw tears running down everyone else's faces at the table. SO much love for one little boy, who we now had to let go.
Much after this is again, a blur. I recall them saying that they would move Colton into a private room, and that all the rules were essentially lifted for us. We didn't have to leave at shift change and we didn't have to be present for family members to come see him. I think we stayed with him for a few more hours after that.
We quickly made decisions about what we wanted to do. We knew we wanted him baptized. We knew we wanted others to get to hold him. We came home that evening and started making phone calls. I was exhausted. I remember making call after call. Telling the same story over and over again. I felt robotic, like it wasn't really happening to me. I would drift in and out of feeling detached to feeling like someone was sticking a hot poker in my chest. I sat down to write a blog entry to let everyone know what was happening. I wrote an email to my clients explaining why I wouldn't be available the next few days. Who was this happening to? This wasn't supposed to be my life. I was supposed to have Colton and bring him home and have him grow up with his cousin and be a mommy. Shockingly I did sleep that night. I think I was just too exhausted not to.
The last thing I remember about that day is that the last thing I did each night before I went to sleep was to pump. I had the pump on the nightstand next to my bed. I looked at it and realized that I no longer needed to pump. I guess I had to let my milk dry up now. For four months I had to fight for every stinkin drop of that milk. I had to take drugs that made me exhausted to help with it and even my girlfriend had to supplement my milk with hers when Colton was eating more than I could produce. Everything had been such a fight. And now I had to lose that too. It was the final admission of what was to come. I hated that pump. And now I already missed it.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Dragonflies
This is a sad week. No way around it. I'm doing much of the "what was I doing this time last year". So, I thought I'd write about something positive. I'm not much for signs. It's probably the part of my father that I inherited. Logic/science. But sometimes in life you just can't ignore them. I've never set out to find something that reminds me of Colton. I've never looked hard for signs that he is with me. I've heard others talk of signs, but thought they maybe just looked for them so hard because they were looking for a connection.
This summer I was no longer able to ignore. :) One day at the pool there was a dragonfly that hovered over. I kid you not, this little guy was hanging around for at least a half hour. Well all the kids at the pool noticed him and started trying to "get him." I remember being overly concerned that the dragonfly was going to be drowned or shot down. Strange.
Then at Colton's spot, where I go to see him each week, a dragonfly kept showing up while I was sitting with him. It would dart in and seem to hover above his spot. It would fly off and then return a couple minutes later. This happened, no joke, three weeks in a row.
Toward the end of summer I was driving onto my street and looked out of my windshield and there was a dragonfly, flying above my car. OK now I was starting to wonder.
Not too long ago a dear friend of mine decided to look up the meaning of a dragonfly. Chills. Take a gander yourself and google it.
The latest in my dragonfly encounters, was a friend of mine was talking to her mom and discussing our Angel of Hope event and her mom interrupted her by saying she had found a dragonfly pin in a gift shop. OK I'm convinced.
Somehow, some way my little Colton has decided to remind us of his spirit with a dragonfly. I have rain in the winter and dragonflies in the summer. My boy has covered it all!
This summer I was no longer able to ignore. :) One day at the pool there was a dragonfly that hovered over. I kid you not, this little guy was hanging around for at least a half hour. Well all the kids at the pool noticed him and started trying to "get him." I remember being overly concerned that the dragonfly was going to be drowned or shot down. Strange.
Then at Colton's spot, where I go to see him each week, a dragonfly kept showing up while I was sitting with him. It would dart in and seem to hover above his spot. It would fly off and then return a couple minutes later. This happened, no joke, three weeks in a row.
Toward the end of summer I was driving onto my street and looked out of my windshield and there was a dragonfly, flying above my car. OK now I was starting to wonder.
Not too long ago a dear friend of mine decided to look up the meaning of a dragonfly. Chills. Take a gander yourself and google it.
The latest in my dragonfly encounters, was a friend of mine was talking to her mom and discussing our Angel of Hope event and her mom interrupted her by saying she had found a dragonfly pin in a gift shop. OK I'm convinced.
Somehow, some way my little Colton has decided to remind us of his spirit with a dragonfly. I have rain in the winter and dragonflies in the summer. My boy has covered it all!
Monday, December 7, 2009
Angel of Hope
Last night I attended a service called Angel of Hope. All over the country are Angel of Hope statues and last night, simultaneously, a candlelight service was held for people who have lost children of any age. I had the privilege of sharing Colton as I was asked to speak at this year's service. I thought I would share my words with those of you who didn't get to attend:
August 17th, 2008 changed my life because my child was born. December 15th, 2008 changed my life even more profoundly, because that was the day my baby became an Angel. My son, Colton, was born premature at 27 weeks. For 121 days he fought for every milestone and showed us a strength we never imagined in such a tiny package.
During this time, we anticipated his homecoming and dreamt of the years ahead we would spend watching him grow up. However, suddenly and swiftly Colton’s health took a turn for the worse and our time with him here had come to an end. The fleeting moments we had with our beautiful boy here on Earth held the thrill of parenthood. But it has been the moments since he became an angel that have been the most powerful.
After Colton passed, I searched for meaning and purpose. Through hours of tears and the long journey through grief, I have found peace in finding ways to have Colton remembered. As a parent who lost a child, my worst fear is that his life will be forgotten. Colton existed. He is my child today as much as he was on August 17th, 2008. Having Colton was a gift and I have taken that strength he showed me and found ways to keep his memory as alive as his spirit.
We have been able to honor him by starting Colton’s Kangaroo Club to provide gliders to the CHOC NICU for parents who want to spend their precious moments, just like we did, with their babies. We have had a team two years in a row at the CHOC Walk and raised almost $10,000 for CHOC Children’s. We have many plans in the near future for Colton’s Kangaroo Club and I am thrilled to have my son’s name attached to something so wonderful.
I am a proud parent and love to share my son. I want to talk about him and I want others to remember his strength and love. I have had my dark days, my moments of feeling cheated. I miss my son every moment of every day. Just as other mothers raise their children here on Earth, I believe that it is my job and my gift to nurture my son’s spirit and share the love and light he brought to those he touched.
I am here tonight to remember my son, just as you are here to remember your child, your niece, your nephew, your grandson or granddaughter. These precious souls left us too soon, but we can share them with others and they can live on through us. I’d like to share a poem with you all that encompasses those feelings and the life long journey we are all on. It’s entitled “My Child.”
Go ahead and mention my child,
The one that died, you know.
Don’t worry about hurting me further,
The depth of my pain doesn’t show.
Don’t worry about making me cry,
I’m already crying inside.
Help me heal by releasing the tears that I try to hide.
I’m hurt when you just keep silent,
Pretending he didn’t exist.
I’d rather you mention my child,
Knowing that he’s been missed.
You ask me how I am doing,
I say “pretty good” or “fine”.
But healing is something ongoing,
I feel like it will take a lifetime.
Peace be with you all.
August 17th, 2008 changed my life because my child was born. December 15th, 2008 changed my life even more profoundly, because that was the day my baby became an Angel. My son, Colton, was born premature at 27 weeks. For 121 days he fought for every milestone and showed us a strength we never imagined in such a tiny package.
During this time, we anticipated his homecoming and dreamt of the years ahead we would spend watching him grow up. However, suddenly and swiftly Colton’s health took a turn for the worse and our time with him here had come to an end. The fleeting moments we had with our beautiful boy here on Earth held the thrill of parenthood. But it has been the moments since he became an angel that have been the most powerful.
After Colton passed, I searched for meaning and purpose. Through hours of tears and the long journey through grief, I have found peace in finding ways to have Colton remembered. As a parent who lost a child, my worst fear is that his life will be forgotten. Colton existed. He is my child today as much as he was on August 17th, 2008. Having Colton was a gift and I have taken that strength he showed me and found ways to keep his memory as alive as his spirit.
We have been able to honor him by starting Colton’s Kangaroo Club to provide gliders to the CHOC NICU for parents who want to spend their precious moments, just like we did, with their babies. We have had a team two years in a row at the CHOC Walk and raised almost $10,000 for CHOC Children’s. We have many plans in the near future for Colton’s Kangaroo Club and I am thrilled to have my son’s name attached to something so wonderful.
I am a proud parent and love to share my son. I want to talk about him and I want others to remember his strength and love. I have had my dark days, my moments of feeling cheated. I miss my son every moment of every day. Just as other mothers raise their children here on Earth, I believe that it is my job and my gift to nurture my son’s spirit and share the love and light he brought to those he touched.
I am here tonight to remember my son, just as you are here to remember your child, your niece, your nephew, your grandson or granddaughter. These precious souls left us too soon, but we can share them with others and they can live on through us. I’d like to share a poem with you all that encompasses those feelings and the life long journey we are all on. It’s entitled “My Child.”
Go ahead and mention my child,
The one that died, you know.
Don’t worry about hurting me further,
The depth of my pain doesn’t show.
Don’t worry about making me cry,
I’m already crying inside.
Help me heal by releasing the tears that I try to hide.
I’m hurt when you just keep silent,
Pretending he didn’t exist.
I’d rather you mention my child,
Knowing that he’s been missed.
You ask me how I am doing,
I say “pretty good” or “fine”.
But healing is something ongoing,
I feel like it will take a lifetime.
Peace be with you all.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
New home, new holidays
December 1st. Been anticipating the arrival of this month all year, and not in a good way. Since I last wrote, I've moved. Leaving Colton's room was so very very hard. Packing up this things into a single box, taking each treasured piece I have of him and putting it into something that seems so impersonal was one of the hardest things I've had to do this year. Even though he never made it home, his room was sacred ground. I pumped for him in his room. I talked on the phone in his glider to friends and family about his progress. I went in there to reflect on his life, think about him and be with his things after he passed. It was Colton's room in every way, and leaving it felt like another loss. In my condo, I have photos of Colton in my bedroom and on my desk and I've found a special spot for some of his most treasured items, so I'm coping. I've recovered his glider and use it in my living room. I find myself rocking in it and it makes me feel a little better. :)
Since the big move is over, I find myself having more time to focus on what's around the corner. Colton's Angel Day is fast approaching. Last year, we were well into our four month fight for Colton's health and managed to put up the Christmas tree, but that was about it. Of course you all know that he passed 10 days before Christmas and it was surreal that we had put up the tree when he was alive and took it down when he was already gone. I was really hesitant to jump into the Christmas season this year because it is all tied to a visceral memory now. I allowed myself to just wing it and see how I felt when it came to decorations and participation in activities. In fact, I had pretty much resolved myself to NOT decorating this year. More on that in a minute.
So, Thanksgiving rolled around last week and I had several family events to attend and hadn't really given the holiday much thought. No dread or special meaning attached to it, so I was completely caught off guard when I woke up Thanksgiving morning and was a complete MESS. I woke up with a pit in my stomach, cried all morning and had a really, really hard time. I sat down with one of the photo books I have and went through it, trying to think about why I was having such a hard day. After much thought, I think it was that last year at Thanksgiving, Colton was probably in the best health he had been the entire journey. He was off the ventilator, we could hold him with out too many tubes/wires. He no longer needed an IV tree, he got to meet his great Grandpa and his great uncle Milan. We had so many neat memories packed into that week, and still had so much hope. Colton had appeared to defy what doctors had told us and looked like we were finally on the upswing. Nurses and family were all speculating on when he would finally come home in the new year. I got to watch Colton suck on a pacifier without a ventilator tube in his mouth and we could finally see his beautiful face without tape and tubes. In a way I felt like we had finally climbed to the top of some huge mountain. Colton showed us his best on Thanksgiving last year. I miss feeling so hopeful and being a proud parent. I was so proud of him. He had fought so hard for every little milestone and to hold him without tubes and watch him do something so ordinary like suck on a pacifier held so much awe.
I pulled myself together to head out to family events. My nephew was introduced to some of our family that he hadn't met before and it was hard that I didn't get introduce Colton to them ever. The selfish part of me feels cheated. I don't get to be a mommy. I don't get to pass my handsome boy around and watch him smile and play with new people. Holidays are hard because it is then when I'm slapped in the face with the harsh reality that my life is completely different than is was last year. In my heart I'll always be Colton's mommy, but as time marches on, the outside world just sees me as the old Amy. Single gal with no children. Kind of like I was 10 years ago, like nothing ever occured. I wish I could wear a sign on my forehead that says, I am Colton's mommy. Just because you don't see a baby doesn't mean I'm not a mommy.
After all the Thanksgiving hub-bub was over I turned on the holiday tunes and sat on my couch to see how I felt. I decided that I was going to put up a tree and do some light decorating. No matter what, I'm going to feel crappy. Why not do it with some holiday dressing? As I pulled out my ornaments for the tree, I came accross four ornaments that friends/family had given us for Colton as well as the stocking that the NICU nurses had made for him. I chose a special spot on the tree and put all his little ornaments/stocking together. I love that he has a spot on my tree. I'm happy that I pulled it all out and can enjoy a little of the holiday spirit.
I plan to write several entries over the next couple of weeks. There is much that happened last year that I didn't write about as at the time it was too jarring and sad to put into written word. I want to share with you this year the final days of our journey with Colton and some of the tiny miracles that occurred.
I miss you terribly Colton. I have many more good days than bad, but I hope you give me strength as we head into these next few weeks. Until someday my little man...
Since the big move is over, I find myself having more time to focus on what's around the corner. Colton's Angel Day is fast approaching. Last year, we were well into our four month fight for Colton's health and managed to put up the Christmas tree, but that was about it. Of course you all know that he passed 10 days before Christmas and it was surreal that we had put up the tree when he was alive and took it down when he was already gone. I was really hesitant to jump into the Christmas season this year because it is all tied to a visceral memory now. I allowed myself to just wing it and see how I felt when it came to decorations and participation in activities. In fact, I had pretty much resolved myself to NOT decorating this year. More on that in a minute.
So, Thanksgiving rolled around last week and I had several family events to attend and hadn't really given the holiday much thought. No dread or special meaning attached to it, so I was completely caught off guard when I woke up Thanksgiving morning and was a complete MESS. I woke up with a pit in my stomach, cried all morning and had a really, really hard time. I sat down with one of the photo books I have and went through it, trying to think about why I was having such a hard day. After much thought, I think it was that last year at Thanksgiving, Colton was probably in the best health he had been the entire journey. He was off the ventilator, we could hold him with out too many tubes/wires. He no longer needed an IV tree, he got to meet his great Grandpa and his great uncle Milan. We had so many neat memories packed into that week, and still had so much hope. Colton had appeared to defy what doctors had told us and looked like we were finally on the upswing. Nurses and family were all speculating on when he would finally come home in the new year. I got to watch Colton suck on a pacifier without a ventilator tube in his mouth and we could finally see his beautiful face without tape and tubes. In a way I felt like we had finally climbed to the top of some huge mountain. Colton showed us his best on Thanksgiving last year. I miss feeling so hopeful and being a proud parent. I was so proud of him. He had fought so hard for every little milestone and to hold him without tubes and watch him do something so ordinary like suck on a pacifier held so much awe.
I pulled myself together to head out to family events. My nephew was introduced to some of our family that he hadn't met before and it was hard that I didn't get introduce Colton to them ever. The selfish part of me feels cheated. I don't get to be a mommy. I don't get to pass my handsome boy around and watch him smile and play with new people. Holidays are hard because it is then when I'm slapped in the face with the harsh reality that my life is completely different than is was last year. In my heart I'll always be Colton's mommy, but as time marches on, the outside world just sees me as the old Amy. Single gal with no children. Kind of like I was 10 years ago, like nothing ever occured. I wish I could wear a sign on my forehead that says, I am Colton's mommy. Just because you don't see a baby doesn't mean I'm not a mommy.
After all the Thanksgiving hub-bub was over I turned on the holiday tunes and sat on my couch to see how I felt. I decided that I was going to put up a tree and do some light decorating. No matter what, I'm going to feel crappy. Why not do it with some holiday dressing? As I pulled out my ornaments for the tree, I came accross four ornaments that friends/family had given us for Colton as well as the stocking that the NICU nurses had made for him. I chose a special spot on the tree and put all his little ornaments/stocking together. I love that he has a spot on my tree. I'm happy that I pulled it all out and can enjoy a little of the holiday spirit.
I plan to write several entries over the next couple of weeks. There is much that happened last year that I didn't write about as at the time it was too jarring and sad to put into written word. I want to share with you this year the final days of our journey with Colton and some of the tiny miracles that occurred.
I miss you terribly Colton. I have many more good days than bad, but I hope you give me strength as we head into these next few weeks. Until someday my little man...
Monday, October 26, 2009
Halloween Last Year
We've been decorating little Colton's spot each week for Halloween. Its always been one of my favorite holidays so, of course, Colton gets decorations! I was packing up some things in the house and came across a pile of clothes that I saved that Colton wore. On the top of the pile was his "I love my Mummy" onesie. His nurse Jami was such a sweetie last year and bought Colton his first Halloween outfits. His night nurse Suzie bought him his actual costume, our little football player! I wanted to post a few photos from last year of my handsome little man. It make
s me happy to remember those days. :) 
Until someday, my little man....
s me happy to remember those days. :) 
Until someday, my little man....
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Balloons & Walks...October Marches On
What a whirlwind lately. Balloon release, A Walk to Remember, CHOC Walk, moving, work....life. We've had many events in October that have been centered around remembering Colton. It makes for special days and bittersweet moments. I didn't write on the blog this month on the 15th like I usually do. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I of course thought of him that day, but I forgot to write that night. Does that mean I'm moving forward? I don't know. Yes, I'm feeling a little more like myself but, again, bittersweet. I've been so busy lately that I don't think I've had time to feel.
I started out the month with a great balloon release and picnic with my support group in Dana Point. October is Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Month, hence all the events. The next weekend was A Walk to Remember at UC Irvine, where hundreds of families gather to walk for the babies they have lost. An emotional day but comforting to be surrounded by those that are walking your walk. They had music playing in the background and one of the songs from Colton's funeral kept looping, which I hadn't heard since last December. It gripped my heart and took me back to that time. Wow...powerful.
This last weekend we had the CHOC Walk. Such a fun event (although way too early in the day!). I had so many emotions standing there at the start waiting to hear our team announced. What a different place I'm in this year as opposed to last walk. We were still so hopeful last year. Colton was in the NICU and doing fairly well and we were walking for him, almost like his cheerleading squad. This year, so different. I loved that we
can keep his memory alive by walking for him, but as I stood at the start I began to tear up, missing my boy. I'm so thankful for those of you that donated and/or walked. Beyond supporting a great cause, it lets me know that you still think of and love my little boy. That means more than anything, that he is remembered.
can keep his memory alive by walking for him, but as I stood at the start I began to tear up, missing my boy. I'm so thankful for those of you that donated and/or walked. Beyond supporting a great cause, it lets me know that you still think of and love my little boy. That means more than anything, that he is remembered. As October comes to a close, I have more events on the horizon. My nephew's first birthday party, Halloween, and of course, my pending move. Life marches on but my heart seems to stay in one place, with my little boy. I understand now that while I will move forward, I will never move on. I am forever changed and I'm learning to be OK with that. Its a strange acceptance to my new reality. I am mentally bracing myself for December and what it will bring. So as I take it day by day, I look for the little gifts my Colton leaves me. I smile and cry at the same time. This is a wonderful, exhausting, emotional, life-altering journey that I'm on. I'll close this post with a quote that was passed on that I know I've mentioned before and I hold very close to me these days:
"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, but learning to dance in the rain."
Until someday my little man....
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Colton's Gifts
Today is another 15th. I am now 9 months along in my journey. This month has been hard with a lot of change in my life. The days go by fast but the feelings linger. I still miss my boy every minute of every day. I see other families with their children and hear of stories and I feel a little lost and out of place. I'm on a road that I didn't choose and steering in a direction that takes me farther away from the life I thought I would have. But sprinkled throughout these uncertain times are little gifts. Gifts that I cannot ignore and believe that Colton gives me.
I've been able to really start getting involved with my volunteer work at CHOC. I feel so passionate about this and feel that it is a way that I can take my experiences and help future families that might be in our situation. I've made great new friendships with people that I probably would not have met if I hadn't had Colton. I've found strength that I didn't know I had, but I've also found that I am quicker to admit weakness. I've learned that its OK to be overwhelmed and not always in control.
Finally, I had a particularly neat gift today. A friend, Rick Brotherton, happened to send me the logo samples for Colton's Kangaroo Club. I love them, and am hopeful that we will be able to do great things through this vehicle for families related to Kangarooing. I smiled when I saw the email this morning from Rick. Of all the days of the month for it to arrive, today was the day. Me thinks someone upstairs had something to do with that. :) I get my little gifts wrapped up in loving packages and I feel so lucky, even when I'm sad.
I love you my little man. Mommy hopes to see you in my dreams tonight.
I've been able to really start getting involved with my volunteer work at CHOC. I feel so passionate about this and feel that it is a way that I can take my experiences and help future families that might be in our situation. I've made great new friendships with people that I probably would not have met if I hadn't had Colton. I've found strength that I didn't know I had, but I've also found that I am quicker to admit weakness. I've learned that its OK to be overwhelmed and not always in control.
Finally, I had a particularly neat gift today. A friend, Rick Brotherton, happened to send me the logo samples for Colton's Kangaroo Club. I love them, and am hopeful that we will be able to do great things through this vehicle for families related to Kangarooing. I smiled when I saw the email this morning from Rick. Of all the days of the month for it to arrive, today was the day. Me thinks someone upstairs had something to do with that. :) I get my little gifts wrapped up in loving packages and I feel so lucky, even when I'm sad.
I love you my little man. Mommy hopes to see you in my dreams tonight.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
So Blessed
Yesterday was Colton's first Heavenly birthday. I felt so blessed yesterda
y. While of course it was a sad day that Colton wasn't with us, the thoughts, well wishes and sweet touches made a for a special day. We went to the cemetary and decorated Colton's spot.
For more pictures of his birthday celebrations and cute photos of my nephew eating Colton's bday cake visit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/29664626@N07/sets/72157621955394017/
y. While of course it was a sad day that Colton wasn't with us, the thoughts, well wishes and sweet touches made a for a special day. We went to the cemetary and decorated Colton's spot. Some of Colton's Auntie's came to do a balloon release and have cupcakes in his honor. We sent the balloons to heaven with our wishes for Colton to have a peaceful and happy birthday. We felt so much love and enjoyed spending time with everyone and talking about Colton. The emails, Facebook messages and cards all meant so much. The support we feel every day from our friends and fa
mily is so wonderful.
mily is so wonderful.
That evening I went to my support group that I attend twice a month. We had a celebration there as well for Colton. The gifts I received were so thoughtful and so personal. Even though he isn't with us on Earth, he is with us in spirit and I know Colton's spirit was full of love and joy yesterday.
For more pictures of his birthday celebrations and cute photos of my nephew eating Colton's bday cake visit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/29664626@N07/sets/72157621955394017/
Happy 1st Birthday my little man. Until someday...
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Labor a year ago
Last I left Colton's story, they had stopped labor. The days following were fairly uneventful, albeit uncomfortable. After about five days on the Mag I started to have real problems. I couldn’t breathe, every breath was like a knife in my shoulders. I couldn’t sleep from the pain. I was so tired and hopped up on meds that I was completely emotional. I felt helpless and looking ahead and how many weeks, I didn’t know how I was going to do it. That day the docs told me that they wanted me off the mag as it wasn’t a long term solution and my health was deteriorating. I panicked. I just knew that taking me off the mag was going to send me into labor. I expressed my concerns but they said there was no choice and they had other drugs to try. I had been doing well and they didn’t see any reason why I would go into labor.
They took me off mag, let me up for a shower and took out the cath. I felt like a new woman! The sense of relief and instant human-ness was great. If I could stay like this for the next weeks, I would be a-ok. I had my first decent night’s sleep (save nurses checking in on me every few hours). The next day I awoke feeling like I could get some work done and had a positive outlook. About 1pm I started to feel slightly crampy again. I said something to the nurse and she insisted that my contraction monitor wasn’t picking anything up. The day progressed, I continued feeling crampy. I asked several more times to move the monitor, etc. Nothing. I ate dinner at 6 and was really starting to get crampy. At shift change my new nurse came in (someone I knew from previous night) and told her that I didn’t feel right, and didn’t think the monitor was picking up right. She moved my monitor and instantly picked up contractions. I was so angry! If we had caught this 5 hours before we could have gotten on some meds early instead of chasing labor the rest of the night.
They checked me and I was still at 3cm. Good. Put me on oral tributalene extra dose. I felt like a crack addict. I started watching the printout from the contraction monitor like a hawk. An hour goes by, no change. They inject with me IV tributalene. Really feel like a crack addict. Shaking, heart racing. They wait another hour, no change. I’m dilated to 4cm at this point. Time for the mag. They have to try and cath me twice and give me a double loading dose of mag. I instantly throw up dinner and continue to vomit in between contractions. I’m in active labor now and am gripping the bed through each contraction. This is what I imagined labor would feel like. They give me more tributalene and keep the mag drip high. They won’t give me anything for the pain, I just have to grit my teeth through it. I am amazed at how fast time goes by. I look up and its almost 11pm. They check me again and I’m at 6cm. Not good. Nurse seems to be getting worried. I’m worried, but can’t really focus on anything other than the pain. Maybe that’s a good thing? I tell my husband to call the families, because in my gut I know what’s going to happen. There is nothing left to give me at this point except more of the same drugs. I’m shaking violently, I’m throwing up, I’m in excruciating pain, I feel like I’m on crack and I can’t see straight. I felt so awful that I finally told my husband that I didn’t think I could do this anymore. I’m strong, but not this strong. The nurse checks me again (am getting no relief from contractions anymore) and says that I’m at 10cm. Stupidly I ask what that means. She says, you are having this baby. Like anything could be any more surreal at this point, it is. About 7 nurses, 3 docs enter the room. I feel like it’s an onslaught. I ask if I can have an epidural and they actually say yes. The anesthesiologist has to do it w/ me lying down. As soon as those meds were on board I felt really weird like I was going to pass out. So, they give me more drugs, load me with ephedrine to raise my blood pressure. I started to feel the effects of the epidural in a good way. Didn’t get rid of the pain, but took the edge off. Things were moving fast, they moved me into a delivery bed and told me to push. Again, didn’t have time to process, just had to act. I pushed for a half hour and nothing. The docs all left because they thought he was going to come slowly. Only took about two more pushes and he was on his way. So another mad rush to get everyone back in the room.
We had asked before what to expect. We were told not to expect much as he is very early. He wouldn’t cry, we wouldn’t hold him, etc. I think I expected something that didn’t even look much like a baby. Colton came out and instantly cried. It sounded like a cat’s meow. I couldn’t cry. I don’t know what I was even feeling at that point. I just craned my neck to try and see what they were doing to him. They were trying to intubate him and were having some trouble. But I kept hearing things about good color and high Apgar scores. They whisked him away to the NICU while they kept working on me. I think I was in shock.
We were able to go see Colton at about 4am in the NICU. I was wheeled up and we saw him in the isolette. He was so tiny at 2 lbs. (but big by their standards) but looked like a perfectly formed, little baby. Nothing appeared wrong and we were told how well he was doing. It was a strangely peaceful few hours after that. We were naively optimistic and already deeply in love with our little Colton.
I reflect on this, on the eve of his birthday. Colton came into this world, already a fighter!
They took me off mag, let me up for a shower and took out the cath. I felt like a new woman! The sense of relief and instant human-ness was great. If I could stay like this for the next weeks, I would be a-ok. I had my first decent night’s sleep (save nurses checking in on me every few hours). The next day I awoke feeling like I could get some work done and had a positive outlook. About 1pm I started to feel slightly crampy again. I said something to the nurse and she insisted that my contraction monitor wasn’t picking anything up. The day progressed, I continued feeling crampy. I asked several more times to move the monitor, etc. Nothing. I ate dinner at 6 and was really starting to get crampy. At shift change my new nurse came in (someone I knew from previous night) and told her that I didn’t feel right, and didn’t think the monitor was picking up right. She moved my monitor and instantly picked up contractions. I was so angry! If we had caught this 5 hours before we could have gotten on some meds early instead of chasing labor the rest of the night.
They checked me and I was still at 3cm. Good. Put me on oral tributalene extra dose. I felt like a crack addict. I started watching the printout from the contraction monitor like a hawk. An hour goes by, no change. They inject with me IV tributalene. Really feel like a crack addict. Shaking, heart racing. They wait another hour, no change. I’m dilated to 4cm at this point. Time for the mag. They have to try and cath me twice and give me a double loading dose of mag. I instantly throw up dinner and continue to vomit in between contractions. I’m in active labor now and am gripping the bed through each contraction. This is what I imagined labor would feel like. They give me more tributalene and keep the mag drip high. They won’t give me anything for the pain, I just have to grit my teeth through it. I am amazed at how fast time goes by. I look up and its almost 11pm. They check me again and I’m at 6cm. Not good. Nurse seems to be getting worried. I’m worried, but can’t really focus on anything other than the pain. Maybe that’s a good thing? I tell my husband to call the families, because in my gut I know what’s going to happen. There is nothing left to give me at this point except more of the same drugs. I’m shaking violently, I’m throwing up, I’m in excruciating pain, I feel like I’m on crack and I can’t see straight. I felt so awful that I finally told my husband that I didn’t think I could do this anymore. I’m strong, but not this strong. The nurse checks me again (am getting no relief from contractions anymore) and says that I’m at 10cm. Stupidly I ask what that means. She says, you are having this baby. Like anything could be any more surreal at this point, it is. About 7 nurses, 3 docs enter the room. I feel like it’s an onslaught. I ask if I can have an epidural and they actually say yes. The anesthesiologist has to do it w/ me lying down. As soon as those meds were on board I felt really weird like I was going to pass out. So, they give me more drugs, load me with ephedrine to raise my blood pressure. I started to feel the effects of the epidural in a good way. Didn’t get rid of the pain, but took the edge off. Things were moving fast, they moved me into a delivery bed and told me to push. Again, didn’t have time to process, just had to act. I pushed for a half hour and nothing. The docs all left because they thought he was going to come slowly. Only took about two more pushes and he was on his way. So another mad rush to get everyone back in the room.
We had asked before what to expect. We were told not to expect much as he is very early. He wouldn’t cry, we wouldn’t hold him, etc. I think I expected something that didn’t even look much like a baby. Colton came out and instantly cried. It sounded like a cat’s meow. I couldn’t cry. I don’t know what I was even feeling at that point. I just craned my neck to try and see what they were doing to him. They were trying to intubate him and were having some trouble. But I kept hearing things about good color and high Apgar scores. They whisked him away to the NICU while they kept working on me. I think I was in shock.
We were able to go see Colton at about 4am in the NICU. I was wheeled up and we saw him in the isolette. He was so tiny at 2 lbs. (but big by their standards) but looked like a perfectly formed, little baby. Nothing appeared wrong and we were told how well he was doing. It was a strangely peaceful few hours after that. We were naively optimistic and already deeply in love with our little Colton.
I reflect on this, on the eve of his birthday. Colton came into this world, already a fighter!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Doing His Work
There is so much sadness surrounding a loss. There is a hole in my heart that I know will never go away, no mater how much happiness I will go on to find. I've had a hard time this week anticipating Colton's birthday, remembering my hospital stay and reliving the moments that led to his birth. I'm trying to feel the things I wasn't able to last year so I can be in the moment and hopefully continue to heal and move along on my journey. But, that sadness has brought with it some huge gifts. Today was a great example of those gifts.
I went to visit Colton today to do my usual Thursday flower drop-off. I met my friend Kristen, who's son is also buried by Colton. Kristen is such a gentle soul, overflowing with warmth and compassion. She has walked my walk and is such a source of strength. I've never been one to "need" people. I've always been fiercely independent and never liked to rely on others. Through the loss of Colton, I have had to learn to accept what others offer and ask for help. I believe that losing Colton has made me a better person. I know I will never be that same person I used to be, but that's ok. I think I'm a better version of myself. I know that gift comes from Colton. There are times when I believe he plays such an active role in making things happen.
While Kristen and I were visiting our boys today, we saw a family pull up to the baby section. This is never a good sign, because we knew that they had lost their child. As the family walked the cemetary, clearly in shock and draped in grief, Kristen and I both looked at each other and knew what a hard journey they had ahead of them. As time went by, various family members came up to us to inquire if we had children there and to share with us about their precious Hailey, who they had lost only two days ago. We spoke with both mom and dad and shared hugs, tears and stories about our children. There is an immediate bond that is felt among parents who have lost children. I walked away today from visiting Colton and realized that he is doing his work from heaven. He helps bring together a special group of people, allows me to forge new relationships with special people I would not have otherwise met. He allows me to share his story with others who truly appreciate his spirit. My little man does so much for me, he reaches his hand down from heaven and guides me.
I went to visit Colton today to do my usual Thursday flower drop-off. I met my friend Kristen, who's son is also buried by Colton. Kristen is such a gentle soul, overflowing with warmth and compassion. She has walked my walk and is such a source of strength. I've never been one to "need" people. I've always been fiercely independent and never liked to rely on others. Through the loss of Colton, I have had to learn to accept what others offer and ask for help. I believe that losing Colton has made me a better person. I know I will never be that same person I used to be, but that's ok. I think I'm a better version of myself. I know that gift comes from Colton. There are times when I believe he plays such an active role in making things happen.
While Kristen and I were visiting our boys today, we saw a family pull up to the baby section. This is never a good sign, because we knew that they had lost their child. As the family walked the cemetary, clearly in shock and draped in grief, Kristen and I both looked at each other and knew what a hard journey they had ahead of them. As time went by, various family members came up to us to inquire if we had children there and to share with us about their precious Hailey, who they had lost only two days ago. We spoke with both mom and dad and shared hugs, tears and stories about our children. There is an immediate bond that is felt among parents who have lost children. I walked away today from visiting Colton and realized that he is doing his work from heaven. He helps bring together a special group of people, allows me to forge new relationships with special people I would not have otherwise met. He allows me to share his story with others who truly appreciate his spirit. My little man does so much for me, he reaches his hand down from heaven and guides me.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
August 11th, a turning point
You'll probably see a lot from me over the next week or so in terms of new entries. This next week is full of milestones we had with Colton and I feel the need to write about them. One year ago today was the day that I was admitted into the hospital with pre-term labor. Its strange to me that a day can be so engrained in your memory when it started out so ordinary. August 11, 2008 was a Monday. We had spent time with Donny's family the day before and I recall being really tired that evening. I woke up on Monday morning feeling "off". I couldn't put my finger on it, still can't today, but just felt kind of wierd. I worked for a couple of hours that morning answering emails and doing some tasks, but at about 10:30 am I went downstairs and sat on the couch. Just couldn't concentrate on work and attributed it to being tired from the day before. I fell asleep and took a couple hour nap. When I woke up I had to go to the bathroom. Now, without getting too graphic (those of you who are women and have had children know what I'm talking about!) my body was obviously trying to clean itself out. That was my first eyebrow raise. Just because I'd been around so many pregnant women, I had heard the stories. But I thought in my head, ok, I'm 26 weeks pregnant, this is just a fluke. As the afternoon wore on I started feeling a bit crampy, but really nothing out of the ordinary. I attributed it to the walk I had taken the day before. At about 5pm I started feeling the cramps at an almost regular interval...odd. In my head I'm still saying, its nothing, I'm 26 weeks pregnant! I called my mom and after telling her what was going on she told me that I was in labor. I told her, no way. I'd heard about labor and I envisioned doubling over pain and losing the ability to talk. She convinced me to call the doctor and see. So I made the call and the doctor said I was too early in the pregnancy to be having those symptoms so I should come on into the hospital and they would hook me up to a fetal monitor and see if I was having contractions.
Donny and I made the 5 minute drive to the hospital and even then, I expected to be told I was the crazy preggo and they would send me home in a couple of hours. The events that unfolded were shocking, to say the least. They admitted me into Labor and Delivery to check me. The monitor picked up that I was having contractions (still not what I expected) and they checked me internally to find that I was not dialated, phew! They gave me an oral dose of Tributalene (sp?) to stop the contractions and we waited about 1/2 hour. Nada, contractions continued. They checked me internally again, 2 cm dialated. Not good. They gave me a shot next to stop the contractions. That stuff makes you so jittery and your heart races. We wait. Doctor gets called in and checks me. 3cm, really not good. Once you go to 4cm you are in active labor and its really, really hard to stop. They tell me that they have to dose me with Magnesium. Lord, I had no idea what that really meant. Worst drug ever. First they have to give you a catheter because they have to monitor your fluid input/output so carefully, and in my case, because I was no longer going to be getting out of bed at all. They did a loading dose of Magnesium which immediately sends a massive wave of nausea and makes your eyes go blurry (you literally cannot focus) and you get hot and more thirsty than you have ever been in your life. They also proceeded with the Steriod shot in the butt in case Colton did come that evening. It is a 48 hour course they give to try and give rapid development to the baby's lungs. After being poked, prodded, checked and re-checked I was told in no uncertain terms that I would not be going home the rest of the pregnancy and they were going to try their best to get me to 32 weeks.
I'm telling you at this point, I really just feel like I'm in a dream. Who is this really happening to? Finally at about 2am my contractions die down and I have officially stopped at 3cm dialated where I will stay for the next week. I'm hoping and praying that the crisis has been averted, for now.
Donny and I made the 5 minute drive to the hospital and even then, I expected to be told I was the crazy preggo and they would send me home in a couple of hours. The events that unfolded were shocking, to say the least. They admitted me into Labor and Delivery to check me. The monitor picked up that I was having contractions (still not what I expected) and they checked me internally to find that I was not dialated, phew! They gave me an oral dose of Tributalene (sp?) to stop the contractions and we waited about 1/2 hour. Nada, contractions continued. They checked me internally again, 2 cm dialated. Not good. They gave me a shot next to stop the contractions. That stuff makes you so jittery and your heart races. We wait. Doctor gets called in and checks me. 3cm, really not good. Once you go to 4cm you are in active labor and its really, really hard to stop. They tell me that they have to dose me with Magnesium. Lord, I had no idea what that really meant. Worst drug ever. First they have to give you a catheter because they have to monitor your fluid input/output so carefully, and in my case, because I was no longer going to be getting out of bed at all. They did a loading dose of Magnesium which immediately sends a massive wave of nausea and makes your eyes go blurry (you literally cannot focus) and you get hot and more thirsty than you have ever been in your life. They also proceeded with the Steriod shot in the butt in case Colton did come that evening. It is a 48 hour course they give to try and give rapid development to the baby's lungs. After being poked, prodded, checked and re-checked I was told in no uncertain terms that I would not be going home the rest of the pregnancy and they were going to try their best to get me to 32 weeks.
I'm telling you at this point, I really just feel like I'm in a dream. Who is this really happening to? Finally at about 2am my contractions die down and I have officially stopped at 3cm dialated where I will stay for the next week. I'm hoping and praying that the crisis has been averted, for now.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
7 Months
Hello my little man. Today marks seven months since you've been in heaven. What a journey mommy has been on. These months seem to just creep up on me and before we know it, your first birthday will be here. This time of year reminds me so much of you. I remember you kicking in my belly during fireworks on the 4th of July, I think you liked them. This year when I watched them, I just kept thinking of what an awesome view you now have. Times like that make me feel close to you. Oh and Colton, speaking of feeling close to you, guess what I got to do today? I got to see your CHOC family! I've been wanting to volunteer for awhile now and strangely (well maybe it was in my subconscious) I decided that I was going to go up for the Family Centered Care meeting today. I got to see Miss Marta, Miss Candice, Nurse Cindy, Nurse Roberta, one of your favorite RT's Man and many more loving faces. What a special day to see all of those people. I didn't tell anyone what day it was but it sure felt special to be there, after all, that was our home together for four months! Miss Candice brought me up to the NICU and oh, do I feel you there! Daddy reminded me, that you would be there holding my hand the whole time. Miss Candice pointed to a window and there was a mommy, kangarooing in one of your gliders. Colton, that filled my heart! You are so important, so loved and so honored every day. On a day that could have been very sad for me, I felt joy. And as time slips by and I feel like you might be forgotten, I got to be in a place where your memory is ever strong. What a gift you are, my beautiful boy. Somehow I know you had something to do with me going to CHOC today, so thank you my little man!
Until someday...
Until someday...
Monday, June 15, 2009
6 Months
From the darkest days to fleeting moments of peace, I have made it six months without my little Colton. It doesn't seem real that so much time has gone by already. I had four months to get to know my little man, to touch him and know his love. On days like this I like to remember what he felt like, and what a gift he was to me. Our hours spent each day together, rocking away, were so special at the time. I take comfort in knowing that he felt my touch, my arms wrapped around his little body and my kisses on his head. Colton was so loved and will always be so loved. I will always cherish our hours of Kangaroo time...
It's our routine, our special time. Skin to skin, mommy and son learn about each other. As we rock slowly back and forth, my baby boy and me.
His little hand is feather light tucked up against my chin. I hold his tiny hand in mine, and stroke his baby skin. The noise around us disappears, the clock hands creep around.
I lose track of time, cherishing each moment. He snuggles closer to me still, and scratches at my chest with little fingers and suckles with tiny cheeks. I love these precious hours so much, and cherish every one. Store memories up inside my heart for lonely nights to come.
I didn't know, all too soon I'd have to give him back, his body to weak, his journey too long. But until then I still have time for kisses and for song. Time for quiet hours like this with him cuddled in my arms. Where I wish he'd always stay protected, safe and warm. And yet the day has come when his tiny little hand, is no longer mine to hold.
We will be together in my dreams and I'll cherish these times as I grow old. As we rock slowly back and forth, my baby boy and me.
I miss you every day my sweet boy. Until someday my little love...
Friday, May 15, 2009
5 Months
Today is five months since my little Colton returned to heaven. I'd like to share a poem written to him by my friends Paul, Lori and Melissa Lorenz. It says so much of what I feel every day and especially on days like this.
The Gift of Colton
So many of us never got to meet you,
yet we feel as if we know you like family
You never got to come home
Yet home is where the heart is,
and you'll live in our hearts forever
You never got to walk in the grass
yet you left footprints on our hearts
and we will never be the same
You were only with us for a short time
yet you taught us life-long lessons about love,
hope, faith, and courage
We prayed for you,
We fought for you,
We loved you,
We miss you,
We will always love you,
We will never forget you.
In memory of a brave soul, Colton Chilla, who graced us with his presence for too short of a time, but will live in our hearts forever.
Thank you to the Lorenz family for putting these feelings into such beautiful and perfect words. To my little Colton....until someday my little pumpkin!
The Gift of Colton
So many of us never got to meet you,
yet we feel as if we know you like family
You never got to come home
Yet home is where the heart is,
and you'll live in our hearts forever
You never got to walk in the grass
yet you left footprints on our hearts
and we will never be the same
You were only with us for a short time
yet you taught us life-long lessons about love,
hope, faith, and courage
We prayed for you,
We fought for you,
We loved you,
We miss you,
We will always love you,
We will never forget you.
In memory of a brave soul, Colton Chilla, who graced us with his presence for too short of a time, but will live in our hearts forever.
Thank you to the Lorenz family for putting these feelings into such beautiful and perfect words. To my little Colton....until someday my little pumpkin!
Sunday, May 10, 2009
I am Colton's Mom
My precious boy. What can I say about today? It was both wonderful and sad. I think back to last Mother's Day when you were still in my belly. I had yet to feel you kick and yet to see your face. I had yet to feel your warm skin and yet to smell your wonderful smell. Last Mother's Day was filled with such anticipation thinking about this year and how it would be. We had so little time together on this Earth but I treasure every minute. I got to know your expressions. I got to know every part of your face. I fought for you every day you were here. As I sat with you today at your grave I wished I could hold you again but know that you are at peace. You had such a struggle when you were here that I'm happy you are resting. I am lucky Colton, because good friends and family are in my life to help me remember that I am a mom today and every day. I feel so blessed to be your mommy, to have had such a special boy. I knew when I looked into your eyes that you were an old soul, wise beyond the short time you were here. I still feel so connected to you, even now. But I guess that is because of one simple thing...I am your mommy. A hard day is coming to a close, but know that I would rather have a hard day today than to have never been your mommy. I love you so much. 'Til someday my little man..
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
4 Months
My Dear Little Colton,
I was told when you left us that some times would be harder than others. I feel like time should be starting to heal my heart and that missing you shouldn't be so hard but it is. Its so hard to believe that today is four months since you went to heaven. I miss you every day. The grass has grown in completely where you lay and we have passed another holiday without you. Daddy and I made you an Easter basket and sat under your tree. It definately wasn't the first Easter we imagined we would have with you. I go and see other mommy's and daddy's who have lost their babies and we talk about you a lot. We hear from people that the NICU has your newspaper article framed and posted. You make me so proud my little man. It is because of you that we were able to do such good things and feel so much love. But selfishly, I wish you were here. I feel an ache that doesn't go away, a sadness that lingers. I know everything happened the way it was supposed to but it is hard to understand the "why". Life goes on, time will begin to heal. I know this, I just wish it would hurry up! I will write to you again on Mother's Day. Until someday my little love...
I was told when you left us that some times would be harder than others. I feel like time should be starting to heal my heart and that missing you shouldn't be so hard but it is. Its so hard to believe that today is four months since you went to heaven. I miss you every day. The grass has grown in completely where you lay and we have passed another holiday without you. Daddy and I made you an Easter basket and sat under your tree. It definately wasn't the first Easter we imagined we would have with you. I go and see other mommy's and daddy's who have lost their babies and we talk about you a lot. We hear from people that the NICU has your newspaper article framed and posted. You make me so proud my little man. It is because of you that we were able to do such good things and feel so much love. But selfishly, I wish you were here. I feel an ache that doesn't go away, a sadness that lingers. I know everything happened the way it was supposed to but it is hard to understand the "why". Life goes on, time will begin to heal. I know this, I just wish it would hurry up! I will write to you again on Mother's Day. Until someday my little love...
Monday, March 23, 2009
Colton's Kangaroo Club - Delivery Day!
What a special day. We finally got to put all of your donations to good use today and were able to deliver the gliders to the CHOC NICU. We were greeted by my CHOC support system (Marta and Candice) at the loading docs and unloaded the gliders. We then went into the lobby of CHOC and met up with both sets of Colton's grandparents. We were taken up to the 2nd floor of the hospital where we were able to follow all of the chairs into differen
t parts of the NICU. I was fine as we went into the hospital, but something about getting up to that second floor where we spent so many days and hours got to me.
I got to see all the people there that I loved and missed (because the staff there is truly wonderful) and it felt like just yesterday that we were there visiting Colton. In a way I guess it feels almost like we left him there. It was the last place we were with him when he was alive and we literally spent his entire life there. For better or for worse it was home because that is where Colton was. So, in a way, we went home today. That's what hit me as we were standing in the hallway waiting to go into the NICU.
We watched as the gliders were brought into each wing of the NICU and happy nurses and mom's got to start using them right away. We kn
ow Colton's story will be told over and over again. That makes me happy. As we made our way through, we of course got to put one in room 208, bed 4 (known to us lovingly as Colton's Corner) where he spent all of his stay except for a few days. How appropriate was it that when we walked back there a little girl, a micro-preemie, like Colton was in his corner. Mom was kangarooing her in one of the old chairs and we left her one next to the isolette. It was bittersweet. I loved the fact that we could see a chair in his corner. But to see it without him there was harder than I thought it would be. I felt like I should be able to go up to the isolette and see my little man in there, like time had never gone by.
Overall this was an absolutely amazing experience, filled with love. Sure we had our emotional moments but visiting the NICU was good. We saw wonderful people and felt Colton with us the entire time. Thank you all for making it possible for Colton to live on, thank you for letting us go home again, thank you for all the love that will be experienced in those gliders for years to come.
To see some more pics from our Delivery Day click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/29664626@N07/sets/72157615737678667/
t parts of the NICU. I was fine as we went into the hospital, but something about getting up to that second floor where we spent so many days and hours got to me.I got to see all the people there that I loved and missed (because the staff there is truly wonderful) and it felt like just yesterday that we were there visiting Colton. In a way I guess it feels almost like we left him there. It was the last place we were with him when he was alive and we literally spent his entire life there. For better or for worse it was home because that is where Colton was. So, in a way, we went home today. That's what hit me as we were standing in the hallway waiting to go into the NICU.
We watched as the gliders were brought into each wing of the NICU and happy nurses and mom's got to start using them right away. We kn
ow Colton's story will be told over and over again. That makes me happy. As we made our way through, we of course got to put one in room 208, bed 4 (known to us lovingly as Colton's Corner) where he spent all of his stay except for a few days. How appropriate was it that when we walked back there a little girl, a micro-preemie, like Colton was in his corner. Mom was kangarooing her in one of the old chairs and we left her one next to the isolette. It was bittersweet. I loved the fact that we could see a chair in his corner. But to see it without him there was harder than I thought it would be. I felt like I should be able to go up to the isolette and see my little man in there, like time had never gone by.Overall this was an absolutely amazing experience, filled with love. Sure we had our emotional moments but visiting the NICU was good. We saw wonderful people and felt Colton with us the entire time. Thank you all for making it possible for Colton to live on, thank you for letting us go home again, thank you for all the love that will be experienced in those gliders for years to come.
To see some more pics from our Delivery Day click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/29664626@N07/sets/72157615737678667/
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Three Months
Wow, I cannot believe three months have gone by since Colton passed. That's an entire business quarter, a season, a stretch of time that I couldn't have imagined three months ago. I look out my office window and the tree is popping out new leaves, signaling spring. It makes me sad to leave winter as there will be no more rain, my little comfort that reminds me of Colton. I am watching the babies that were born at the same time as him grow so fast. I hold them and imagine that this is what Colton would be doing if he was still with us. It is both comforting and sad at the same time. I know that Colton's little brain was so broken that he wouldn't have had a good life but I still want him here. I watch Donny hold other babies and it makes me tear up every time. He is so good with them and loves them, I wish he could hold Colton. I miss you so much my little man.
On another note, Colton's Kangaroo Club will be happy to hear that the gliders arrived! We are scheduled to deliver them to CHOC on Monday, the 23rd. We'll post lots of photos so you can see! Thank you again! The staff at CHOC is really thrilled about this and can't wait to get them. Love to you all!
On another note, Colton's Kangaroo Club will be happy to hear that the gliders arrived! We are scheduled to deliver them to CHOC on Monday, the 23rd. We'll post lots of photos so you can see! Thank you again! The staff at CHOC is really thrilled about this and can't wait to get them. Love to you all!
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Two Months
Well, we made it through Valentine's Day and today is two months since Colton passed. We went and visited him yesterday and today. There were several families visiting their babies yesterday and it was sort of comforting knowing we aren't alone. Everyone smiled and said hellos. Sort of knowing that we all belong to a club that we never wanted, but acknowledge our commonalities. I've said this before but never in my wildest imagination did I ever think I would find a cemetary a comforting place. But I truly do feel better when I go visit Colton. We have him in such a nice spot that I took some photos to sh
are with all of you. I think you'll see something familiar on his gravestone. We really wanted something personal to Colton and what better thing to choose than his Colton's Calvary logo. All of you surrounded Colton with your love and that's what made up Colton's Calvary. Now he has your love with him forever.
are with all of you. I think you'll see something familiar on his gravestone. We really wanted something personal to Colton and what better thing to choose than his Colton's Calvary logo. All of you surrounded Colton with your love and that's what made up Colton's Calvary. Now he has your love with him forever.For those of you who couldn't be there for his services, Donny and I thought today would be a nice day to share where he is and why we chose 
this place. At El Toro Memorial Park they have a section that is reserved just for babies and small children. It is called the Angel of Hope section. I took a photo of the angel that watches over all of our little loved ones. It is so very peaceful there and I always tell people if feels like pre-school. Colton is there with all his other little baby buddies and they can play together and have a good ol' time. Here are some more photos and descriptions of what you are looking at:
this place. At El Toro Memorial Park they have a section that is reserved just for babies and small children. It is called the Angel of Hope section. I took a photo of the angel that watches over all of our little loved ones. It is so very peaceful there and I always tell people if feels like pre-school. Colton is there with all his other little baby buddies and they can play together and have a good ol' time. Here are some more photos and descriptions of what you are looking at:I find it hard to believe two months have gone by...that is half the time that we had him with us. Donny and I are definately back into the day to day groove of life but in the same breath we seem to miss Colton more and more each day. Its strange that you can cry and smile all at the same time.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Rain
It hit me this afternoon. Rain reminds me of Colton. I've always loved the rain, the sound it makes on the roof, the smell of it in the air. But now it feels different. The day Colton died, the skies literally opened up. It was some of the heaviest rain we have seen in Southern CA in a long time. Most of the week following his death when we were planning his funeral, it rained. Donny and I spent hours sitting on the couch, looking at photos of Colton and making a slideshow for his service. Then, on Christmas Day it was cloudy but no rain. We really wanted to go visit him at the cemetary and wouldn't you know it, as soon as we stepped out of the car it started to rain.
I went to Colton's grave today to put his Valentine's flag back up (we have to take everything down and put it up again each week for the groundskeepers) and it was windy and starting to sprinkle. That's when I knew that I would never hear, smell, feel or see rain in quite the same way again. It's not a sad feeling, just one of familiarity and remembrance. I just get transported back to those days where Colton felt like he was still with us. So today, I'm thankful for the rain, it makes me feel close to my baby.
I went to Colton's grave today to put his Valentine's flag back up (we have to take everything down and put it up again each week for the groundskeepers) and it was windy and starting to sprinkle. That's when I knew that I would never hear, smell, feel or see rain in quite the same way again. It's not a sad feeling, just one of familiarity and remembrance. I just get transported back to those days where Colton felt like he was still with us. So today, I'm thankful for the rain, it makes me feel close to my baby.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Rough Week
This has been a rough week. I think it must be because there have been a lot of "finals". We had to proof Colton's gravestone and finalize it. We ordered the gliders, which is something we are so excited to do, but it feels finished. We deposited his life insurance payment. We took down all the blue ribbons that our friends had tied up all throughout the neighborhood. All so final. Maybe it just because more time has gone by and reality is settling in. I was walking our dog today and on the trails everything is so green and healthy looking and for some reason it made me think about Colton and how he never got to feel the breeze on his face or grass beneath his toes. I'm sad for him that he never made it out of the hospital, free from wires, free from needles. He had such a hard life while he was here. I only hope that where he is now he feels warmth and comfort. My heart aches for him and for those of us left behind missing him every minute of every day. I miss my beautiful boy so very much.
Rockers Are Ordered
Hi all! Just wanted to let you know that we have officially ordered the gliders for the NICU. We ended up going a little more high-end than originally anticipated, but it was needed in order to get the special fabric, etc. Thanks to all of your donations we were able to order five Dutalier gliders, with chocolate micro-suede with an espresso wood finish. They are custom made to order so we are told that it will take about 8-10 weeks for delivery. They will be delivered to our home and we will then make arrangements to take them into the NICU. We'll keep you updated! Thank you again to all the members of Colton's Kangaroo Club.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
One Month
My dear little Colton. It has been one month since I last held you. One month since I last felt your soft skin. One month since I smelled the top of your head. One month has gone by so fast yet it feels like years have gone by since I looked at your beautiful little face. Life is slowly returning to normal, but you are never far from my thoughts and never gone from my heart. I am reminded daily about your special little life and only hope that I can honor you in the way you deserve. Daddy and I miss you so much. We love you always, our beautiful boy.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Kangaroo Club
Donny and I want to ackowledge all the wonderful donations that we have recieved for Colton's Kangaroo Club. Some of you may be wondering where we are on progress for that so we wanted to provide an update. I have been in touch with the NICU Director to make sure we follow all the rules, but we have made arrangements to deliver in person (we'll take photos) and be able to see them in the NICU which will be very special for Donny and I. We are also ordering plaques for each of the rockers that will note that the rocker was donated by Friends & Family of Colton Chilla. We want everyone to know how special you all are for making this happen. It will take a couple of weeks for the plaques to be made and shipped. Once we have them we will purchase the rockers and make arrangements for delivery. We'll keep you posted on the exact date as we get closer.
I want to take a minute to write out each of your names and recognize your gift. You are all now a part of Colton's Kangaroo Club.
Jodie & Tony Masciola
Gary & Cherie King
Brandon & Jackie Schaefer
John & Stacie McKeehan
Carol & Timothy Scovel
James Bracewell
Kathy Dare
Krissy Livingston
Eric & Anna Mae Tan
Melissa & Dean Gillespie
Kurt & Jennifer Fryling
Kristin & Gerald Ryner
Alan & Sherry Kwok
Erick & Annie Flores
Jeffrey & Carol Hirsh
Milan & Kris Chilla
Richard & Joyce Berzle
Randy & Sharon Miller
Diane McElligatt
Margie Anderson
Russ & Judi Schaefer
Right at Home
Larry & Melanie Yeager
Dan & Liz Ostrosky
Debbie & Rob Summers
Rob & Renee Babbush
Carolyn Babb
Debra Corsini
Jennifer Logullo, Tammy Brown, Marissa Snook, Jen Bippus
Anne & Sloane Stegen
SuMommy Summers
Sara & Michael Tams
Bob & Jill Wiltfong
Amy Skeen
Billie and Johnnie Wallingford
Dave Hadley
Merrily Orsini
Joan Hirsh
Janice & Robert Hunt
Kathy & Bill Garner
Rich & Julie Ostrosky
Bob & Floss Rahn
Katy & Chuck Philyaw
Candice Romley & Family
Pat & Randy Kunkel
Eric & Lindsey Ronay
Mike & Mary Smith
William & Chrissy Roland
Lynisa King & Steven Michalski
Dr. Howard & Jacqueline Groveman
Caren Kurlander
Alice & Bob Saunders
Dorian & Bill Sailer
Carla & James Petit
Thank you all again, you are truly amazing.
I want to take a minute to write out each of your names and recognize your gift. You are all now a part of Colton's Kangaroo Club.
Jodie & Tony Masciola
Gary & Cherie King
Brandon & Jackie Schaefer
John & Stacie McKeehan
Carol & Timothy Scovel
James Bracewell
Kathy Dare
Krissy Livingston
Eric & Anna Mae Tan
Melissa & Dean Gillespie
Kurt & Jennifer Fryling
Kristin & Gerald Ryner
Alan & Sherry Kwok
Erick & Annie Flores
Jeffrey & Carol Hirsh
Milan & Kris Chilla
Richard & Joyce Berzle
Randy & Sharon Miller
Diane McElligatt
Margie Anderson
Russ & Judi Schaefer
Right at Home
Larry & Melanie Yeager
Dan & Liz Ostrosky
Debbie & Rob Summers
Rob & Renee Babbush
Carolyn Babb
Debra Corsini
Jennifer Logullo, Tammy Brown, Marissa Snook, Jen Bippus
Anne & Sloane Stegen
SuMommy Summers
Sara & Michael Tams
Bob & Jill Wiltfong
Amy Skeen
Billie and Johnnie Wallingford
Dave Hadley
Merrily Orsini
Joan Hirsh
Janice & Robert Hunt
Kathy & Bill Garner
Rich & Julie Ostrosky
Bob & Floss Rahn
Katy & Chuck Philyaw
Candice Romley & Family
Pat & Randy Kunkel
Eric & Lindsey Ronay
Mike & Mary Smith
William & Chrissy Roland
Lynisa King & Steven Michalski
Dr. Howard & Jacqueline Groveman
Caren Kurlander
Alice & Bob Saunders
Dorian & Bill Sailer
Carla & James Petit
Thank you all again, you are truly amazing.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Remembrance
It has been a few weeks since I last posted and I know some of you are probably wondering how we are doing. Many days are numb, many are filled with tears. Sometimes I catch myself laughing like all is normal and I pause to wonder if that is ok. Around every corner is some memory and in every part of the house is some little token of preparation for Colton's arrival. Donny and I both say that the grief comes in waves. It is hard to see the light when you are sitting in the dark but we both agree that we will be OK. We know that much. I stumbled accross this poem and think it is so appropriate.
Go ahead and mention my child,
The one that died, you know.
Don't worry about hurting me further.
The depth of my pain doesn't show.
Don't worry about making me cry.
I'm already crying inside.
Help me to heal by releasing
The tears that I try to hide.
I'm hurt when you just keep silent,
Pretending he didn't exist.
I'd rather you mention my child,
Knowing that he has been missed.
You asked me how I was doing.
I say "pretty good" or "fine".
But healing is something ongoing
I feel it will take a lifetime.
Go ahead and mention my child,
The one that died, you know.
Don't worry about hurting me further.
The depth of my pain doesn't show.
Don't worry about making me cry.
I'm already crying inside.
Help me to heal by releasing
The tears that I try to hide.
I'm hurt when you just keep silent,
Pretending he didn't exist.
I'd rather you mention my child,
Knowing that he has been missed.
You asked me how I was doing.
I say "pretty good" or "fine".
But healing is something ongoing
I feel it will take a lifetime.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)