HAPPINESS?

Yesterday we went out to eat at one of our favorite restaurants. The last time we were there I was pregnant. We have not been there in more than a year. I vividly remember the last time we were there. I even remember what I ate. I had just started feeling Brenna's kicks. We had our grandson with us and we kept telling him about "GG's baby". I specifically remember being very happy. Life just seemed so great. I had everything I wanted. I was thinking about that yesterday; about the last time we were there. Then it dawned on me: Sitting there with my husband and my son, I was happy. We laughed (and I meant it!). We talked, ate, joked. We just enjoyed each other. We had a great meal. I was happy. No, scratch that, I am happy.

When did that happen?

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Friday night at my son's basketball game there was a pregnant woman who sat in front of us. I didn't even notice her until we were getting ready to leave. Then it dawned on me, I didn't notice her! She didn't bother me. I wasn't envious. I didn't hate her. Nothing. There was also an adorable baby girl there who was born about the same time Brenna was due. At first she didn't bother me, until I kept looking at her, and thinking that Brenna would have been her age. Then it got to me. The thing that hit home for me was the fact that she was obviously a baby with special needs. And I wanted her. I thought to myself, 'I'd take her'. It was just a few days ago that I wrote this post.

"What if we have a baby? What if something is wrong with it? ... I'm afraid of messing up what I have right now."

In the second that I wished for that baby girl, I knew that even if we did have a baby with special needs, we would be OK. I would happily take what I was blessed with.

LOOK INTO MY EYES!

This one is for Ya Chun. My eyes are green. (Although in this picture they do look blueish).

I've always liked my eyes because I think they are unique. My son has brown eyes. When he was little he would tell us his eyes were brown because he drank too much chocolate milk. :) My husband has hazely-brown eyes. When I was pregnant I always pictured my baby being a girl with my green eyes. We don't know what color her eyes were because her eyes weren't open. I couldn't see myself prying my dead child's eyes open to find out what color they were, so we will never know for sure. But, since she looked exactly like my son, I think she had brown eyes just like him.

Now, tell me about your eyes.

BABY OR NOT

Now that we've passed the one year mark, of course baby-making has been on my mind. But, the truth is I have not given it serious consideration. After loosing my baby I desperately wanted another baby. Everyone who looses a baby says that they don't want another baby to replace the one they lost. I have to be honest and tell you that I wanted another baby because I thought that was the only thing that would fill the hole in my heart. Not necessarily to replace Brenna, but to fill the gap that was left in my life. I had plans for her, dreams. There were things I envisioned myself doing with her. I wanted to do those things. If I couldn't do them with her, then the only way to make those dreams come true was to have another baby. Loosing a baby leaves an indescribably emptiness in your soul. I am serious when I say that. I literally felt empty. I thought the only way to feel whole again was to have another baby. I'm not sure about that anymore.

The truth is I like my life. I am blessed with a son, a step-daughter, a grandson, and a husband (not to mention a sister and four brothers who I'm very close to!). My life is full. I have a job that I love. I have an active social life. I like how things are. My son is at the age where he doesn't want us around all the time, and he likes to be with his friends more. At first that was hard to swallow, but I now realize it gives my husband and I much more alone time together. It's like when we first started dating. Spending all day together. Holding hand when we drive. Shopping together. (It's getting sickening, right?) I like it. We are closer now then we have ever been. Without a doubt. Part of me is afraid of messing that up. What if we have a baby? What if something is wrong with it? What if something happens to me? There are just so many what-ifs that I'm just afraid. I'm afraid of messing up what I have right now.

We don't have long to make a decision. My husband is not getting any younger, (OK, neither am I!).

YOU KNOW WHO TO COUNT ON

I still have not heard from my dad. It's been a few weeks. Lately, the only time I hear from him is when he's having girlfriend problems. Generally I don't mind. I seem to be the person people turn to for advice. Which is fine. But it would be nice if those people called me once in awhile for other things too. Like to make sure I'm still alive. It really doesn't hurt my feelings that he hasn't called. It pisses me off!

I grew up living with my mom about an hour away from my dad. He was a very typical "weekend dad". Which meant that if it wasn't his weekend, we didn't see or hear from him. He always paid his child support, and never forgot our birthday. But, we never got a phone call on our birthday- just a gift on his weekend that was closest to it. When I met my husband his daughter's mom was still alive, and she lived with her mom because he lived an hour away from them. He would call his daughter almost every night and I thought that was so strange. It was foreign to me.

After I had my son, my father and I grew closer. We spent a lot of time together, even though he lives two hours away. Lately, since he has this new girlfriend, it seems that he doesn't have time for us anymore. She does not like it when he spends time with us and not her. Even though she refuses to come most of the time. I always make her feel welcome. I figure that if she makes him happy, then I can put on my happy face for the short time I spend with her. They broke up in January, and he's been calling me more often. I have a feeling that they are back together. That would explain his silence. Most of the time he doesn't even return my calls when they are together.

Do I sound like an adolescent? I feel like a 10 year old who wants her daddy's attention! I feel ridiculous even writing this because it seems so juvenile. But the fact of the matter is that my dad has really pissed me off my totally forgetting Brenna's birthday. The saddest part for me is that I knew he would forget. I just knew it.

THE ANTICIPATION

The anticipation of her birthday was much worse than the actual day. It really wasn't that bad to be honest with you. In fact, I dare say it was a pretty good day. I was still getting over the flu, and I didn't go into work. So I took my son to school, and then came home and took a nap. After I woke up my mom came over and brought me flowers. Three of my brothers brought me flowers. My mom also brought a large cross to take out to Brenna's grave. We didn't take it because it was too windy and muddy, but I am going to take it out there when the weather gets a bit nicer. My mother made me chicken and noodles. Yum! Nice, boring day. I didn't shed one tear. My son went on his fieldtrip. He had a really fun day at school. It's spirit week, so he is doing all sorts of fun things this week, and that had kept his mind of from being sad. Which I'm thankful for.

It was not a horrible, tearful day. The worst thing about today is that my dad did not remember. I didn't expect him to. Especially after what happened at my uncle's funeral. I think part of it is because my dad is a man, and he feels very uncomfortable with "feelings" and doesn't know what to say. But, part of me thinks that he does not consider her a person, or his grandchild. My mom and dad are divorced. My mom has pictures of Brenna all over her house. Where ever there are pictures of the other grandkids, there are pictures of Brenna. My dad does not even have a picture of her. Part of that is my fault. I've never given him any, but he's never asked either. My mom has asked for a copy of every picture I have. He could have at least called, or emailed me, or sent me a card. But honestly, I don't think he even remembered. It doesn't really bother me, because I didn't expect him to. If you don't have high expectations, you don't get let down.

WHERE DID THE YEAR GO?

Tomorrow the little ticker to the left of this post will read 1 year since we said goodbye. I can not believe it's been one year.

My brother called me tonight to tell me he was thinking of me. He hadn't forgotten. I love that he called me. I asked him, "What do I call it? Is it her birthday?" Deathday just doesn't seem right. Neither does birthday. To be quite honest, none of it seems right or real. Her birthday should be this summer, and she should be crawling around my house right now...

I have been afraid of this day. But now that it is here it's not so bad. The part that bothers me the most is that now that a year has past everyone will expect me to be over it. Healed. Moved on. How do you get over the fact that a person died inside of you? How do you get over that? Especially when it was someone you loved, and wanted, with every fiber of your being.

I don't really have anything insirational to write, like Reese did. I'm suffering from the flu, and my period is due to start tomorrow. Another of Mother Nature's cruel jokes.

Most other bloggers relive their baby's birth on their birthday. I think you all know the story. Or if you don't , you know where to find it. Nothing has changed. The story is the same. I just don't know the ending yet.

Happy Birthday baby girl. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think of you, or miss you.

CRAZY HAIR DAY

Today was crazy hair day at my son's school. Last year on Crazy Hair Day, I had to tell him the news. I remember him being so excited because he had so much fun at school that day. My mom had done his hair all spikey and colored it. He couldn't wait to show me. I remember how happy he was. I wrote this when in my first post on this blog:

"I had to tell my son what happened, and that was the hardest part for me. He's almost 11, but has never really had to deal with death before. I made sure we were alone in the hospital room, and then said I had to tell him something. He smiled at me and said, "You know if it's a boy or a girl don't you?" My heart broke because I knew his life was never going to be the same after I told him. He cried, which broke my heart. I cried, which broke his."

Telling my son was, and still is, the worst part of loosing Brenna. As much as my heart breaks from loosing her, it is broken into a million more pieces everytime I think of the smile on his face when he said, "You know if it's a boy or a girl don't you?" I literally felt like dying. I knew his life was going to change forever.

I have been thinking about Crazy Hair Day all day. I wonder if it will ever be the same for us again.