Mikey Vids Test

I’m becoming more tech deficient as time moves on. Trying to upload videos.

Yeah

Momentum

In the end I too will go away.

I have a short period of time to be and do good in this world.

It’s proving to be more difficult than that.

~Kris

waiting

the sun is out

my eyes are closed

i see you clear

in the soft orange glow

floating beyond

my outstretched hand

my focus blurs

to a thin gold band

i see you

everywhere

more vivid

when nothings there

i can’t reach you

or even try

choosing moments

i’m allowed to cry

i hope to see you

in an unseen place

white clouds above

that shed no rain

waiting

the hardest part

i love you

with my breaking heart

~Kris

Hopeful May

I think we’re doing okay? 

I really can’t tell you for certain that we’re okay or we’ll be okay.  I feel like I just can’t know that.  I continue to tell everyone that we’re doing better and we’re “getting there”.  Every time those words escape my mouth I cringe a little.  I’m trusting that we will be okay and that Meg and I will have a happy life but it’s a daily effort that I don’t always win. 

We’re often struck with the reality that those closest too us don’t know what we’re going through.  I struggle with this as I don’t think anyone can exactly know what you’re going through.  I know that they are feeling an entirely different pain and grief for Sullivan.  I don’t want anyone to know this pain.  Just as I don’t ever want to know what it’s like to lose a close friend or parent.  I do however want to know what it’s like to be content with this life. 

We’re getting there. 

 ~Kris

No one can measure a life…

You can’t measure the life of someone by the size of his casket.

Kris and I were fortunate enough to have my parents plan and organize Sullivan’s burial and funeral services.  We didn’t have to sit in a funeral home and pick out the “right” casket for Sullivan, the proper flowers, readings and songs for the service that reflected the meaning of our first born’s short life with us.  It was all taken care of- thank God.

Sullivan’s life was far more than the size of his 2 foot casket, however…

Again, as many people know and have joked about (led by myself, of course) I experienced a pretty scary thing in 2002.  I had my right ovary removed because I had a VOLLEYBALL sized cyst removed from my contorted ovary.  It was one of the scariest experiences of my life.  Since the surgery, I have been so nervous about my own fertility.  I figured my odds of conceiving were 50% less than women with 2 healthy ovaries.   My doctor, my angel, Dr. Taylor, however would assure me  after every annual visit that I would have no trouble having a healthy baby.  My left (and remaining) ovary would take over the responsibility of two- which it did.

You see, conceiving Sullivan was far more than just “deciding” to start a family.  Kris knew of my worries.  Kris and I married in November 2009 and for me, getting pregnant wasn’t soon enough.  I wanted to be one of those couples that got pregnant on their honeymoon.  This more or less occurred.  Kris and I were headed to a friend’s wedding reception in January when I complained of cramps to the point where I was pretty sure I was losing my remaining ovary.  After Kris had rushed to me to the ER in St. Louis Park and called my parents to advise of likely upcoming surgery, the ER doctor advised us that we were pregnant.  We had not been far along at all…maybe like 3-4 weeks but it was safe to go home and rest.  We were sent home (this was a Friday night) and advised to check in with my OBGYN on Monday for further testing.  Testing on that Monday confirmed that we were losing our baby.  We miscarried.  It was tragic but we still had hope.

In June of 2010, after not conceiving again for 4 months, I panicked and made an appointment with Dr. Taylor to have my remaining fallopian tube cleared to see if there was any blockage.  Too much information, but before my appointment I needed to have a period.  The appointment came and I had no period.  I called the nurse to advise that I was late and that I’d needed to reschedule the appointment.  The kind nurse asked if I had taken a pregnancy test…of course not…I can’t be pregnant, I thought.  I took a test immediately after getting off the phone and it was positive!!  POSITIVE…we were having a baby!!!

Please understand that Sullivan has been a part of my life since that summer of 2002 when I assumed that I couldn’t have children.  He’s far more than that tiny casket that held our hopes and dreams.  Sullivan was our miracle baby…sent from heaven.  He still is, except now he’s in heaven and we’re reflecting on the meaning of his tragically short life.

April

I have had the intention to add our story to this page.  Lay it all out there as many that are close to us are hesitant to ask for the long version.  Many others are grieving alongside us for Sullivan and it’s tough to relive.  He was loved by so many.  I wish you could have all met him.  He was so beautiful.  Perfect.  The strange truth is that there are times when we enjoy telling the story.  Of course there are tears and moments where Meg or I can’t get the words past our lips, but there are also so many details that I enjoy recalling.  I was so proud of Meghan for her strength.  I was so proud that we created this beautiful little angel.  I was so grateful for our family who were with us every moment. 

I’m very sad and miss Sullivan very much.  I’m sad that we won’t have the chance to see the person he would become.  But I’m comforted with the thought that he’s in heaven cheering us on.  I wonder if he’ll recognize my voice when I get there.

I’m too exhausted to write our story today. (I’m also crying and typing at work, not a good combo.)  But maybe soon.

 ~ Kris

Three months missing Sullivan

Today we should be celebrating our dearest first born’s 3 month birthday, instead I’m still in my pajamas (at 3:15pm)-not having been able to attend work, with a wet face and a giant hole in my heart.  I have especially thought today about how this could have happened.  How could this be our life?  How did we get to this horrible place?  Where was our God?  How could He have done this to two really great people who wanted a child so badly?  These days questions seem pointless. There are no answers so what’s the point in wasting time asking them?

I also have spent a lot of today thinking about what Sullivan would look like at 3 months old.  Although he was born early at 34 weeks, he weighed in at 6 lbs 6.5 ounces and 22 inches long – he was going to be a big strong kid.  By this time he would start to look more like a real baby and not a tiny infant.  We would hear things like, “Oh he has Kris’ eyes” or “He smiles just like his Mom did as a baby.”  But now we’ll never know and I hate that.

Grief is exhausting.  Kris and I both believe in the strategy of ‘Fake it ’til you make it’ but sometimes, especially on days like today, we don’t have the energy.  On days like today, I am consumed with sadness and hopelessness.  One of our therapists told us early on after we lost Sullivan to feel free to just feel what were feeling and don’t feel guilty about it.  It’s not that I feel guilty about the deep sorry and depression for “living” life without Sullivan, but instead I feel like I’m drowning/crumbling/suffocating and that makes things worse sometimes.  So I feel torn – do I ‘fake it’ and ignore my sad feelings or do I  feel exactly what I’m feeling and know that my day is ruined?

During my pregnancy, I was the happiest I’d ever been.  It’s no secret that I’ve been on antidepressants since I was about 18 years old but when I was pregnant with Sullivan I immediately wanted to go off of them.  I woke up happy and went to bed happy.  I had never felt more alive.  I felt beautiful with Sullivan inside of me and I wasn’t ashamed of the weight that I put on because I felt SO great.  Today, I am so thankful for those short 8 months with Sullivan.