Sunday, August 30, 2009


While in Chicago I had a revelation.

I was taking a break at one of the many museums we went to. My husband and son had run off together to do something fantastic that I wasn't interested in. While I waited for them to come back I just stood back and watched people. I saw lots of cute kids running around. I began to think about what it would be like to have another baby. I was thinking about what another baby would look like. Just then an adorable kid with the curliest hair I've ever seen came walking by. I thought to myself, "I want Brenna to have hair like that." That thought was quickly followed by "What did I just say?"

It dawned on me that I was not thinking about another baby. I was thinking about her. When I picture myself having another baby I actually picture her. Right then and there I realized that my want for another baby was actually more about wanting her. If I am really honest, I have to admit that one of the reasons I want another baby is because I think it will fill the hole that losing her created. It's not easy or fun to admit that. But it is the truth.

While I'm at it I must also admit that I am selfish. When I am sad about Brenna's death, I'm sad for me, not her. I know she is OK. I am sad because I want her here with me. And that is so selfish. But I am only human. I have always wanted a baby girl. I had dreams for her. I was over the moon when I found out I was pregnant. When she died it was the lowest point of my life. I lost those dreams. I was sad for me, because I would never see those dreams fulfilled.

I've been on this grief ride for a long time now. I know how it works. When you think you're fine you realize you aren't. When you think you can't take it anymore, you realize you can. Lately, I've been thinking about her alot. I'm not sure why. Nothing has happened to make me miss her more.

I just do.

Friday, August 28, 2009


We are back from Chicago. I really need this week off. It was good to get away and just relax. So much better. We packed a lot of things into those few days. We were tourists to the max, and hit every tourist trap in Chicago.

A few times I caught myself watching other families with toddlers. I wondered how our vacation would be different if we had a one-year-old with us. When we were waiting to board our train they let families with small children board first. I was angry because we should have been boarding with them. But we weren't. It didn't spoil my mood or anything. We still had fun. But I still thought about it plenty of times.
Deadbabyland is a shitty, shitty place to be.

Thursday, August 27, 2009


Today, I remember Olive Lucy.

Sunday, August 23, 2009


Growing up I didn't like anything about the country. I hated dirt, I didn't like horses, and I liked being in a neighborhood. When my mom married my stepdad we moved from the middle of the city to a subdivision outside of the city. It might as well have been 500 miles away. I didn't like being away from my friends. I missed sidewalks.

When I met my future husand I was 18, living on my own. In the city. I liked it.

He told me he grew up in the country. It was a place I had never even heard of. I had no idea what or where he was talking about. Even when he took me to visit I still didn't know where it was. All I knew is that there wasn't even a stop light in his home town, and what they called The Grocery Store had the same things in stock as 7-11 (By the way- there wasn't a 7-11 for miles!). To say I wasn't impressed would be an understatment.

Then my (future) father in law had a stroke. And he died. My mother in law was left on the farm, and she needed help. My husband had a home next door to her's that he usually rented out. But, as luck would have it, the tenants had just moved out and it was empty. So we moved in "for six months" to help her with the "animals" (read: sheep. Yes, sheep.)

Thirteen years later we are still here, and the sheep have been eaten.

My first few months years here were not easy. I longed for my old life. Especially when I was pregnant. I missed my family. I didn't really know anyone, and the people I did know I didn't click with. We had zero in common. My high school had four times as many people as the entire population of the town we live in. It was a major adjustment.

Then my son started school, and I met people I had things in common with. I got involved in several committees. I started to embrace the country for it's positives. I loved the fact that my son could play outside all day and I didn't have to worry about him. My stepdaughter couldn't fart without it getting back to me before she got home. (Everyone knew everyone, and everything about everyone.) I actually started to like it.

Today, my friends, I am here to tell you that while I miss the city (and I suspect I always will) I like my life here in the country.
We have chickens. Fresh eggs everyday.

I have a pet pot belly pig.
We have a fantastic garden.

We have a great views. In the winter and summer.

Never in a million years would I have pictured myself living in the country. But, I have to say that this is where I really think I am meant to be.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009


We went to a wedding this past weekend. About 6 years ago, the groom's best friend was killed in a car accident. I remember it well, because he was friends with my stepdaughter, and she called home in tears the night he died.

I did not know the boy's mother at the time, but I have recently met her. We were at a function together this summer, and she started talking about her son. I saw the uncomfortable looks of the people around us. I ignored them. She shared her story about her son. She bragged about him as if he was still alive. The other people in the group shifted in their seats, clearly uneasy. I know the look from experience. We talked about her son, and I purposely asked questions about him.

The thing that strikes me about this boy and his best friend (the groom) is that the groom has never forgotten him. Even all these years later, he still remembers him in everything he does. At the wedding they played a song for him (one of many) and the DJ announced it was for TZ (his initials). It wasn't a sad, slow song like one would expect. It was a dance song, and I thought it was fitting. His mom was sitting at the table next to me, and as soon as they said TZ I looked over at her. The song begins with no real music, just the words "It's been so long. That I haven't seen your face. I'm trying to be strong. But the strength I have is washing away." As soon as the first words were sung, she lifted her head up and closed her eyes. As if those words were painful and healing at the same time. I knew what she was feeling. I knew she was thinking about her son all night long. I knew that she was thinking how she would never be at his wedding. I knew it was painful. In the middle of the song she turned to her husband and said, "I want to go home". My heart just broke for her. But I also know that she knows how loved her son was, and I know that must bring her great comfort.

Sunday, August 16, 2009


I have not been around much these past few weeks. I'm just working, and things have been crazy.

I'm loving have the new puppy. It's like having a baby in the house. She is a pure joy, and so well behaved. Everyone marvels at how well behaved she is. Even my old Daisy has taken to her. They've started playing which, if you knew Daisy, is huge. She has never liked puppies, but she loves Rosie.

We are going to Chicago for a few days next week. I love Chicago, and can't wait to go back. We're taking the train, which I've never done before, so that should be an experience. Tickets and hotel are booked, so we are ready. (My mom is watching the dogs).

My husband is on a laundry strike. He read this post. I didn't even know he really read my blog to be honest with you. I figured he'd never even see that post. I didn't realize I said I "hated" the way he folds laundry. I guess I should clarify (in case he ever reads again!) that I am very particular about my clothes, and I like my laundry folded a certain way. He folds a different way. By all means if you are reading this, and have a need to wash clothes, don't let me stop you! :)

Lots has been happening. There have been a hundred times that something has happened and I find myself writing a post in my head about it, but I just don't have or take the time to write it out.

To make up for the most boring update of all time I will share this little nugget of my family.

Yes, that is my husband in a shell bra. I know you don't recognize me, but that is me there with the beautiful green fro. Let me explain. For the past ten years, a town in Michigan has been having the Cheeseburger Festival . This year's parade brought 60,000 people into a town of about 3,000. Seriously. We put together a float for my work, and drove up to the festival. I have never been there and did not know what to expect. Let me just say it was one of the funnest days I've had all summer. Even my (very) conservative mother got in on the festivities.
Thank God my son when home with her, because I ended up having to buy my husband a tee shirt because he lost his. He actually brought a blender from home, and ran it off a generator to make daquaris. (Classy, no?) The highlight of the day was when I slipped on bubble juice from our bubble machine and fell off the float. During the parade. It was pretty spectacular. I ate every kind of cheeseburger you can think of, not to mention cheeseburger soup! It was very, very fun, and we will deffinately be there again next year!

Friday, August 14, 2009


Sunday, the day after Brenna's due date, we went sight seeing since we were out of town for a family reunion. I browsed a little gift shop while my husband used the bathroom. A picture of dragonflies caught my eye. I took a minute to look at it, and it was a pad of paper with dragonflies all over it. There across the top it said, "Forget Me Not".

I'm not a big believer is "signs", but sometimes there is no doubt.

Monday, August 10, 2009


Brenna's due date came and went without much notice. My period arrived, just as predicted.

I thought about the day a few times, but it was not nearly as awful as it was last year. It's amazing how time really does heal the heart. I did find myself thinking that we should have been celebrating her first birthday. I also skipped the first part of our family reunion- the part where we read last years minutes- because I knew they would be reading her name, and I didn't want to be there for the awkward silence that was sure to follow. I didn't shed one tear. I didn't really feel horribly sad. More, I felt like I was missing out on something. Missing out on her birthday, missing out on having a one-year-old running around. I let myself think for a second what camping with a one-year-old would have been like. I also thought about all the things we had done that weekend that we couldn't have done with a toddler in tow. But those are things that I think about during everyday life, it had nothing to do with the day.

After such a depressing post, here are a few vacation pictures to cheer you up!

Mackinaw Bridge, connects the Upper Penninsula and Lower Penninsula of Michigan.

My grandson and my husband's cousin.

Please excuse the wife-beater and long hair.

(The teen years are going to kill me!)

My Daisy dog has been to 10 famiy reunions!

This was Rosie's* first reunion (of many!) .

Grilling lakeside.

Just for fun!

*Did I mention that we changed Dolly's name to Rosie? Brendan came home from camp, and decided that she was a Rosie, so we changed it.

Thursday, August 6, 2009


August 8th (8/8/08) was my original due date with Brenna. I was farther along than they thought, but I still think of August 8th as her due date.

Last year on her due date I started the most horrible period. Painful, heavy, horrible period. It was like Mother Nature was mocking me. Reminding me of what I didn't have.

This year my body is out of whack. I haven't had a period in six weeks (no, I'm most defiantly not pregnant). Right now I have PMS like you would not believe (my poor husband!). I know Aunt Flo is on her way. I have a feeling she's going to show up on Saturday, just to remind me again of what I don't have.


Wednesday, August 5, 2009


(Note: In case you don't remember my stepdaughter's mother died when she was young.)

A few days ago we were in the car with my son and grandson. Out of the blue my 3-year-old grandson blurts out "My mom's mom is dead." Something like that might have made me freeze up with awkwardness, but I know that wasn't the right thing to do. Instead I said, "She is? That's very sad. But she's in heaven." "Yes" he told me, "My dad told me that".

My husband and son didn't say a word, and I looked over at my husband in the driver's seat and he had tears in his eyes. He has had to deliver the most devastating news to the two women in his life: First, when he had to tell his daughter that her mother was gone. Then, years later, he had to tell his wife that their daughter was gone. I can't even imagine how horrible that was for him.

Before Brenna, I didn't realize how easy it was to be thrown back to that day. Now I know there are reminders everywhere. Looking at my husband I realized that when Mason talked about his grandma he would never know, it took my husband back to when she died. I reached over and held his hand, as tears slipped down his cheek.

Monday, August 3, 2009