Thursday, February 19, 2009

Let Me Count The Ways

This one goes out to the ones I love...the ones that left me behind...

I'm just kidding, but on the other hand, with the week we've had here on the mainland, I wish I was out at sea. I really need to take to the sea.

My parents are on a cruise, as I type. They took off from work and jetted to the seas with some college friends for a week of fun, sun and lots o' fruity drinks. I hope they're having fun...and hope they take us with them next time...hint hint.

Overall this week has been yucky. Is yucky a grown up word? Is grown up a grown up word? I don't know. I just know that it has not been a fun week here in our part of town.

Despite our recent cat issues, I've just been so down.
I miss Owen so much. It hurts to breathe when my heart is aching this much.
And I'm so so sick of constantly being reminded of what I don't have with Owen, of what I won't get to experience with him on this earth. I'm tired of feeling like less than. I'm not a mother, because my son is dead...more than son did not live outside my body, so I am...what? What does that make my son? What is the word for those of us whose babies died before they were born? Are our babies even on the same par as babies who live to take their first breath?
It bothers me so much. It's not so much that I need other people to call me on Mother's Day or whatever else moms get recognition for; I need people to recognize why I'm a mom.
My son. I want people to value him and his life. I want him to be remembered.

My mother's heart cries out Remember him. Value his life. He was important and special.


Do you have pets? If you do, I'm sure you would agree with me that it is a love-hate relationship.
Oh, kitties, sweet precious cats, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love how much noise you make at 5am when I've finally fallen into a deep sleep, what with the fighting and the meowing and the bathing and the running all over the house like crazy people, it's no wonder why you sleep all day.

I love the smelly poop you deposit in the middle of our yummy dinner, in the middle of watching a movie, and my favorite, on the top of our bed because you're angry.

I love how you use our new furniture as a scratching post.

I love how we've had to resort to covering our sofa with blankets to deter your crazed scratching.

I love the way you always manage to sit in the middle of important papers and disrupt my system by chewing on anything you can get in your little mouths (I take our budget very seriously).

I love how I sat in cat pee our very first night in our new house.

I love how your stinky breath awakens me in the middle of the night.

I love how you decapitate my plants if I leave them in your line of sight.

I love how you turn your smelly butt in my direction to get my attention.

I love how you learn to spray after we've finally gotten up all the stinking cat pee AND removed the offending carpet from the house!

I love...

Okay, okay. Fine. I really, really do love you, Maggie and Lucy. Demonstrated by the fact that I did not throw your smelly butt out when I noticed you doing a funny dance by the door, Lucy. I'm sorry you've been quarantined in the bathroom for the time being, but believe me, it is much better than the alternative.


Anonymous said...

Totally know what you mean when your heart is screaming, "Remember him!" I feel that all the time, even in the wake of having another child. Actually having another only intensified my fear that people would forget her/have forgotten her.

I love our baby here on earth, but I hate so deeply when people look at him like, "Awww..." and I feel like they're thinking, "Isn't this a nice end to the story?"

Truth is, there is no end. I want Felicity's chapter to keep being written through people who remember her as a real child of ours.

Have you read "Stillborn: The Invisible Death"? I have it linked on my sidebar. You might really like it. I liked it a lot. I title alone was helpful for me.

Okay, maybe this should have been an email (too long for a blog comment?).

Ebe said...

Hey Molly, it wasn't too long. But I did email you in response. My reply is a bit long.