From Mom: Due Date.

Forgive me today, as my thoughts are scattered. It’s a strange, hard day for us. 

We are on vacation at the beach right now. We weren’t suppose to be here. There wasn’t suppose to be a summer vacation. None of the last 17 weeks were suppose to go the way they did, but they did and we perservered.

Reese, today marks 40 weeks. I don’t know if you would have been born before today or after today, but June 7th was the date I had circled the moment I took that first pregnancy test back in September. You were going to be our little June-bug—a summer baby just like your Daddy. Instead you share February with your grandfather and great-grandfather. 

I’ve been dreading today since the minute I had to say goodbye to you. After today, I’m no longer mourning something that was suppose to be in the present…everything will be in the past. If that makes sense. I’ll no longer be mourning a pregnancy that was suppose to still be going on. Those nine months of my life are over. Another page turned, another chapter finished. 

Everything I’ve done lately, I’ve done with the thought in the front of my mind “it wasn’t suppose to be like this”. I wasn’t suppose to be at work this summer, helping out with orientations. I wasn’t suppose to be taking long car rides or traveling outside the metro Atlanta area. There was suppose to be a car seat and baby bag in my back seat; instead there’s a dog seat cover for a puppy that we have because of you…not instead of you. Your nursery was suppose to have a crib and woodland creatures on the wall; now it’s become the room that hopefully will be something more one day. A stroller, car seat, books, and clothes all put away; all bought for you, but never used by you. The glider I thought I’d spend hours holding you in, that arrived the day you were born, is still in its box. I can’t get rid of anything—I pray everyday that little brother or little sister will read your books, wear your clothes, and play with the Peter Rabbit toy I bought you in December when you were still nice and cozy inside me. 

We brought you to the beach with us. People may be weirded out by that, but there was no way I was going to let this date pass by and not have you with us. We brought your two bears as well. Before, I had visions of a beach vacation with you, watching your little chubby legs touch the ocean for the first time. I even bought you little swim trunks. I get so sad knowing we won’t ever have that, but I’m optimistic that you’ll watch over us and keep us safe when we finally get to bring little brother or sister to touch the ocean for the first time. 

The days are getting easier, and things are getting better. Our relationship is stronger than ever but we still miss you like crazy. There isn’t an hour that goes by that I don’t think of you, even in my sleep. 

I don’t know what tomorrow will be like, or the day after that. For the last 17 weeks, I’ve been afraid to find out. But I’m not so afraid anymore. I’ve been through one of the darkest, hardest things anyone can go through and I’ve made it out to the other side. We can do this. We have the world’s most perfect son as our guardian Angel. We can do this. 

Today, I brought you out to watch the sunrise with us. It was gorgeous. I’m sure you had something to do with this. You’ve been the reason I’ve woken up with the sun everyday since September and you always will be. I love you Bub. Thank you.

 

From Mom: 3 Months. 37 Weeks.

Today marks three months since we said goodbye to our little boy. It also marks the day in which I would have hit 37 weeks of pregnancy. I would have been full term today. I have a lot of emotions today that I'm not entirely sure how to navigate. I have more questions today, three months later, than I have answers. However they aren't questions about what happened but more so questions on what would have been. 

How big would I have been?

Would Reese have come before his due date or after?

What would my baby shower have been like?

What would my third trimester look like?

How would the nursery look?

Reese had an incredible amount of hair at 23 weeks four days. Would it have been a wild mane of dark hair by now?

How would I be feeling overall? Ready to get the baby out or enjoying being pregnant?

What would Ross have been doing to prepare to be a Dad?

What would our baby class experience be like?

Where would we have gone on our "baby moon"?

I'll never get to answer these questions. Well that's not entirely true. Hopefully I'll get to experience a third trimester with little brother or sister. I'll have a baby shower and I'll get to decorate a nursery. We will attend a baby class and go on a baby moon. We will prepare to be parents in a different way, not necessarily to be first time parents but to be parents with a baby at home for the first time. But I'll never know when Reese would have been born because he was born on February 12th. I'll never know what his hair would have looked like full term, but I know what it looked like when he was born. I'll never know how I would have felt at 37 weeks with Reese, but I know how I felt from weeks 4-23. I felt amazing. I LOVED being pregnant with my son. I loved feeling his kicks that week leading up, when they really started coming, and I just know he would have kicked and danced even harder as the days went on. 

The next three weeks are going to be interesting as we get closer to June 7th. The closer we get to our due date, the more the outside world realizes we were suppose to be giving birth. We are getting more and more coupons in the mail, reminding us to complete our registry. I've received boxes of formula samples, which I have since donated ( I can't justify keeping it with the shortage going on). Calendar events I forgot to delete or erase have popped up. I'm having to commit to things at work this summer that I originally didn't think I'd be here for. We've made plans to travel and go to concerts, things I didn't think would be possible with an infant. It's bittersweet though; whereas I'm excited to see Lady Gaga or go to North Carolina, I wish I wasn't. I wish I had the excuse of "we've got a one month old at home" or "we don't have a sitter for the night". 

We've somehow managed to get through the last three months and we are stronger for it. We got a new puppy and we got married, both things that didn't happen instead of Reese but because of Reese. The next three weeks might be our toughest challenge yet. Hopefully, the last three months were preparing us for these next three weeks and we've learned what it takes to be resilient and how to cope with our sadness. 

Wish us luck over the next few weeks. Pray for us as we continue to figure out what our life is suppose to look like. Beginning on June 8th, we enter a new phase of mourning. Whereas I'll always be grieving over the pregnancy I didn't have and the pregnancy I lost, I won't be mourning something that was suppose be to occurring in the present---I'll be mourning something that occurred in the past. That almost sounds worse. 

We will be ok. We have each other. We have Gracie and Clara. We will have little brother or sister one day. And we have our perfect boy watching over us. We will be ok. 

From Mom: Married.

Ross and I have always done things a little unconventionally when it comes to our family. We bought a house when we were just boyfriend and girlfriend. We decided in April 2021 to start trying to have a baby that summer, given our ages. We got engaged in early September 2021 only to find out we were expecting Reese a few weeks later. We never thought about planning a big wedding to begin with, maybe a small ceremony in my hometown. Once we found out about Reese, thoughts about maybe having a bigger wedding than we originally planned could come once Reese was a year old or so. It didn't matter to us if we were married or not when Reese was born, just as long as he had Ross's last name. We also thought we had until June to go to the courthouse and get married if we felt up for it. We had plenty of time. 

Then Reese was born in February. And suddenly, we didn't have time. Reese was given my last name immediately upon birth and it remained that way until he passed. We filled out a paternity affidavit at the hospital, so we could make sure that Ross would be listed as Reese's dad even though we weren't married. I looked over Reese's paperwork fifty times to make sure the right name was listed. Once we left the hospital, I made sure Reese's death certificate said the correct last name. His social security card. His urn. He had to have the same last name as his father. The same last name that I eventually planned on having. The same last name that I suddenly wished I had. 

Some people may not think it's a big deal--having the same last name as your husband. Initially, I didn't. I was fine with having my maiden name still. When Reese passed away, all of that changed. I was desperate to hold on to whatever I could of his. Desperate to connect us even more than we already were. I needed to be Reese's mother in every way possible, including sharing his last name. We decided we would go to the courthouse before our due date in June. 

Turns out, most of the courthouses around where we live aren't doing marriages at the moment. What were we going to do? We could elope? That could work. My best friend had mentioned maybe having a small ceremony the weekend that was to be our baby shower, especially since our other best friend was still planning on flying in. We liked the idea, but I also liked the idea of running off somewhere and sending everyone a text message with a picture of our wedding rings. I continued to like this idea more and more until I had a wildly vivid dream on Thursday, 4/14. Reese was in it. He was precious. Ross's eyes and my hair. And he had on a little suit. He said he wanted us to be "whole". I woke up and I was absolutely sure I knew what it meant. We had to get married on April 30th, the day before when my shower was suppose to be. 

We decided to get married at our house, on our back deck. My best friend got ordained. My other best friend took pictures. I found a beautiful, comfy, and affordable dress online. We invited family and friends, explaining we knew it was late notice and if they could be there--great! If not, that's what pictures and zoom were for. We got our rings. Ordered flowers. Had food and drinks setup.  Got our license. We planned a wedding in two weeks. Everything was perfect. 

And it remained perfect. It was the perfect day. 

At 5:30 PM on April 30th, Reese's parents got married. My something blue was a bracelet with his name on it. I carried the teddy bear that stayed by Reese's side after we left him at the hospital, along with my flowers. The weather was amazing and the birds were chirping. Our family was "whole"---as much as it could be. Even through all of the happiness, I still was slightly heartbroken. I had previously envisioned a ceremony where Reese was our ring bearer, or Ross's best man, and that wasn't to be. Instead, I took five minutes to myself before the ceremony and talked to Reese's urn. It was soothing. I saw two red birds during the ceremony, which I am positive were Reese and my Grandmother checking in on things. 

The license is mailed off and it won't be too long before legally, we will all share the same last name. Little brother or sister will have the same last name the minute we check into the hospital. When they call my name in the waiting room during appointments, Ross will hear his last name. I have the same last name as my son. That's all I needed. 

Don't get me wrong though--marrying Ross and being his wife finally is a plus. I am pretty thrilled to call him my husband. He's a good one. 

"Always remember there was nothing worth sharing, Like the love that let us share our name"- The Avett Brothers

Photo by Jamie Everhart http://www.jamiethephotographer.com/

Photo by Jamie Everhart http://www.jamiethephotographer.com/

From Mom: Two Months Out and Easter

Today is Easter. It’s Ross’s favorite holiday. It’s also two months since we lost Reese, so it’s bittersweet. I’m not what I would consider a religious person, but my faith did grow during the five days we had with Reese and I know how important it is to Ross so I make sure to watch church with him every year online. He spent time in Kansas City after college and attended a church there that streams services online. It’s not my religion but I do enjoy watching it with him.   

This year the Pastor giving the sermon said two things that really stuck out to me. One was a Mark Twain quote, “the two most important days of your life are the day you were born and the day you find out why”. We had watched our friends become parents for years, and we always listened to them say how amazing it was. We never knew that to be true until the day Reese was born. The minute I laid eyes on him, I knew I was born to be his Mom. Truth be told, the minute I saw the positive pregnancy test back in late September, I knew I was born to be my baby’s mom. Bringing him into the world was the single most important thing I would ever do and I wanted to do it well. Even though he was born so early and left us so soon, I knew I was put here on this earth so I would create the most beautiful little boy that would in turn have such a huge impact on so many lives. Reese was my why, and even when little brother or little sister joins the family, he’ll continue to be my why. 

The other thing the Pastor said was “the worst thing is not the last thing”. Some might take that as meaning something religious and from the resurrection, but I view it as something a little different but still meaningful nonetheless. The worst day of my life was when Reese passed away. I honestly don’t know how anything could ever be worse than the feeling of my heart breaking into a million pieces as he left us, and I don’t ever want to revisit that feeling again. But even in all the darkness, I took comfort knowing one of the two things. One, he would not be my last child. I know I will feel the love of a child and have one in my arms again. I will be someone’s Mommy eventually. Two, Ross believes (and I do too to an extent) that we will see Reese again one day. So saying goodbye on Earth, whereas it was the worst thing we’ve ever had to do, was not the last time we will be with him. Sure, it’ll be in spirit, but it will happen. 

For the rest of our days, Easter (and every holiday to be honest) will be a little difficult. We will forever be missing a part of our heart and soul. However, the love we have for one another and the strength of our family bond will get us through and give us the power to smile and be happy. So if you celebrate Easter, or even if you don’t, I hope today is a good day for you filled with love, hope, and lots of candy. 

In this house today, there’s a lot of Reese’s candy to go around (as I mentioned in a previous post-its Ross's favorite candy) So Reese is not only filling our hearts, but also our stomachs in a way. I'll take whatever I can get, as long as it reminds me of him.

Happy Easter! 

 

From Mom: 6:37 P.M.

Reese was born two months today at 6:37 P.M. Everyday since, Ross and I have sang happy birthday to him. I have an alarm set to go off. It doesn't matter what we are doing, we will stop and sing. It is the one tradition we get to keep with our son, and I never want it to stop. This week though, we had to adapt and for the first time since February 12th, we couldn't sing it together. Ross was driving home from Augusta on Monday and didn't make it home in time; we adapted and sang on the phone. On Friday, I was at a bar getting drinks before a concert with a friend when I realized it was almost time. I facetimed Ross in a private area at the bar and we sang. We adapted and it was fine.....we were fine. 

Not missing 6:37 P.M. is important to us. It's another way we can keep our son's memory alive. I didn't want to think about how I would feel if I missed it one day. I imagined I'd feel awful, that I'd cry my eyes out and that the rest of my day would be ruined. In fact, I was so sure that this was what would happen, that I think that's what drove me to do everything in my power to make sure I didn't miss it. Until last Saturday. 

I was exhausted. Work had been crazy all week. Gracie had been her normal puppy self and was doing whatever she could to make sure we didn't get a full nights sleep. I had been cleaning around the house and I just needed a break from everything. I laid down in bed at 5:45 for a nap, absolutely positive that my alarm would wake me up at 6:37. Except it didn't. Ross did, but by then it was 6:38. We had missed 6:37. I felt awful for about 20 seconds and then I went on with my day....eh..nap. The world did not collapse. My son's spirit and memory didn't suddenly disappear from our hearts and minds. 

I had my first breakdown in what seemed like forever that same Saturday. I didn't even realize that I had gone more than a week without bursting into tears. After I was done crying, I thought about that and I thought about how I had actually felt...dare I say...like my old self the whole week before. Almost my old self that is. I'll never feel like who I was before February 12th again, but it was the closest I had since. Realizing that gave me a little tinge of optimism that I hadn't felt in a very long time. It felt pretty good. 

I've also noticed that I'm able to talk about the events of his birthday more freely now.....without stopping to gather my thoughts or without crying. I did so on Friday, when I was with a friend I hadn't seen in months and today, when I went to visit my old coworkers at lunch. I've been able to think about him and talk about him in a manner that doesn't cause everything to turn dark around me. I find it almost healing to talk about him. Someone said I'm starting to sound happier and more present again and that they noticed I'm carrying myself like I used to. It felt good to hear that. 

It's only been two months but I feel like we've made such progress. I worry for late summer/early fall though. We've been told to watch out for a grief regression of sorts that happens around the six month marker; where all the progress you feel like you've made almost washes away for some time. I think knowing that this is a possibility so far in advance is helpful and can help us prepare; we can make the effort to keep ourselves busy, to seek out additional assistance if we need it, and to surround ourselves with those we love. 

It will be impossible not to feel some sadness everyday and to not think about the son that was suppose to be with us, enjoying every holiday and special occasion with us. It will be impossible to go through another pregnancy, without constantly thinking about the one before (and having to deal with all of the anxiety and stress that will come with it). I know it will be impossible to avoid days that are worse than others and it will be impossible to avoid places, people, or things that remind us of him. What will always be possible is at least having one minute a day where we smile when we think of Reese. Maybe that minute will come during a day where we are already in really good moods, and for that minute we just smile a little more. Maybe it'll come during a day where we need it most, because we can't get out of bed. For now, it's at 6:37 P.M because that was the time of day where we became a family of three. Eventually the minute will come at a different time everyday because we've accepted that it's ok to move forward with our lives. It won't mean that we love him any less or that his memory is fading away. It will mean that we are doing what he would have wanted, and living our life. Most importantly though, it'll mean we will have survived and gotten through the darkness together. We aren't quite there yet, but we're getting close. It feels good.

We will love him and think of him every minute for the rest of our lives. For one special minute each day though, we will love him and squeeze his spirit a little tighter, a little harder. And I'll continue to look forward to that minute everyday, whenever it may be. 

From Dad: Seven Weeks Out

Dear Reese,

Seven weeks now since we lost you, little Bub. We still miss you every single day. Good thing for us, your big/little sister Gracie is keeping us busy and on our toes each day. What I wouldn’t give to change a poopie diaper, but instead we’re constantly picking up poop off the floor and cleaning pee despite taking her out every couple of hours. I bet you’re looking down on us having a laugh, and I hope you’ll send us the strength to help her grow into a sweet pup who can hold her bowels and bladder. Your footprint that I got tattooed on my arm is healing nicely and looking good, and I’m glad I will always have it there to remind me of holding you. We still have to go to the funeral home to get your death certificate, and I know that will be brutal having to go back one last time. But at least we know we will have your remains with us forever. I know you’re healed and perfect now, but we miss you so much every day and I hope you could feel how much we loved you. We still do. And we always will. Keep showing us the way Reese, and please help Gracie learn to hold her pee and poop and to stop biting us so much!

Today is such a special day. It’s Thursday at The Masters, and Braves opening day where we get to raise a World Series banner! Under normal circumstances, today would most certainly be one of the best days of the year for me. Heck it still is, but thinking about Reese and counting off another week since we lost him brought me back to reality real fast today. In our relationship, I constantly remind Sudie of the things that we have to look forward to in our lives. We all need that. Opportunities to see friends, trips, a special occasion – today is most certainly one of those days for me. The Masters is one of my absolute favorite things in the world. I look forward to it and count down the days each year until the tournament starts. 

Lucky for me, a close friend had access to an extra ticket for a practice round this year. Despite Gracie being a monster-ahem, I mean puppy- with all her nipping and being a landshark and jumping and 2 second attention span puppy exuberance, Sudie still gave me her blessing and encouraged me to drive over to experience Augusta National. And wouldn’t you know – it just happened to be on Tuesday when they kicked everyone off the course for the day at 11am due to weather. I didn’t even get to go to the store or walk around to see Amen Corner – probably my favorite place on this planet along with Paulson Stadium on game days.

As our friends in central and southeast Georgia were dealing with tornadoes, I got to drive back to Atlanta through terrible storms and then I missed being with Sudie at 6:37pm for the first time since Reese was born. But what a blessing – Augusta National is giving Tuesday ticket holders the opportunity to return next year. And my good friend has already given me the blessing to go again next year and we’ll plan an even bigger day out of it and hope for perfect weather. What do you know? Something to look forward to for the next year. The weather is clear, it’s going to be a great tournament, and the Braves are going to go 162-0 this year!

Despite the hole in our hearts, I’m going to enjoy the heck out of the next few days. Sudie is going to the John Mayer concert tomorrow night with a friend, so I’m thankful she also has something she is very much looking forward to experiencing. And most importantly, Easter is in 10 days. It’s my favorite holiday of the year, and my faith gives me a peace and a belief beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will see Reese again and get to hold his hand walking streets of gold. I hope it’s not for a long time, but it’s a belief I need to help me get through another day and another week – since the Masters is only one week each year. The conditions at Augusta National are perfect, the sky is a perfect blue, and hope springs eternal. And I know I will always have something to look forward to for the rest of my days. Thank you for that, Reese. We love you.

From Mom: Avoiding the Candy Aisle

Grief is a funny thing. One minute, you're actively avoiding the candy aisle at the grocery store because it's Easter season and your son shares a name with a very popular candy brand. The next minute, you notice an empty Reese's cup wrapper on the kitchen counter and you smile, because this means one of you has made it past one Reese sized hurdle and is moving forward. 

Ross's favorite candy is Reese's in any form. Every holiday for as long as I can remember, I've always picked up themed Reese's for him. When we decided we were going to name our son Reese, I had visions of a Reese's Pieces/candy themed baby shower. We called Bub our little Reese's Pieces Peanut Butter Cup, and when he was in NICU, he was a Reese's Miniature Peanut Butter Cup. Once our Reese died, I didn't even think about the candy to be honest. It wasn't until we were in a Kroger a week later and I almost had a panic attack when I saw the massive Reese's display for Easter that I realized how hard going to the store was going to be for the foreseeable future. It also doesn't help that in our Kroger, the candy aisle and special event section is right next to the baby goods aisle. It also dawned on me at that moment that Ross might not be able to enjoy his candy pleasure anymore. That was confirmed one day when I asked him if he wanted any candy and he replied "No. I'm not ready". 

I feel like this year more than ever, Reese's has gone HARD with their advertising. The "Reese's University" ads are all over March Madness games, which Ross watches religiously. The displays are bigger than ever at grocery stores, reminding me that I would have not been able to use the old "if it doesn't have your name on it, it's not yours" rule that my parents always used with me growing up; Reese's name would have been everywhere, so I would have had to think of something else. The constant reminder of our son's name is all over the place, just like it would have been even if I were still pregnant. Except if I were still pregnant, and I saw a Reese's advertisement, I'd smile because I'd think of the little peanut butter cup inside of me. Instead I think about what was suppose to have been and then I think about how much Ross loved that candy, and I'm sad for him. 

The other day, when we were back in the grocery store and once again not able to avoid the display because it's right next to the self check out, I noticed that my favorite candy Sweettarts were right next to the display. I had a SERIOUS craving for them while pregnant and probably ate two rolls a week but hadn't had any since; I simply couldn't bring myself to eat any. However on this particular day, my craving for something that was both sweet and tart tasting overtook any sadness I had, and I bought a roll. Without even thinking twice. In fact, I didn't even think about how it was my only candy of choice for 23 amazing weeks until I had finished the last piece. Instead of being sad, I was happy. Happy that I made it past this one small hurdle. Happy that I was able to possibly enjoy something once again without a feeling of regret or despair. I immediately wondered when or if Ross would ever let himself enjoy a Reese's Pieces again. 

Fast forward to yesterday. I was in the kitchen and I saw something orange in the corner of my eye. A shade of orange that's exclusive to one thing and one thing only. It was a Reese's Easter Egg Cup wrapper. There's only one person in this house that eats chocolate, which meant one thing and one thing only. Ross was able to indulge the same way I was able to the week before, except this just felt so much more meaningful. Now I'm not saying he's going to be able to eat his favorite candy everyday from here on out without getting sad. What I am saying is that he was able to move past the grief and the sadness for a few minutes, and buy his favorite candy that undoubtedly reminded him of his son, and enjoy that candy. That's progress.

What I'm realizing throughout the healing and grief process is that we need to take the small victories in any form we can have them, whether it's being able to eat your favorite candy that shares a name with your late son or have a coke float again even though the last time you had one was the night before you gave birth. It could be finally being able to wear the same polo you wore the night you had to say goodbye to your son and not be overcome with emotions or being happy you fit into your pre-pregnancy jeans without feeling sad that you should still be pregnant. Any victory is a victory no matter the size. Once we learn to accept them and meet them in whatever way they come, we can move forward an inch or two more. 

I'm happy Ross is able to enjoy his favorite candy. It means once again, I can spoil him with little delicious treats every once in awhile. And everyone deserves a quick smile now and then. That being said, Gracie will be able to jump up to countertops fairly soon so if we could keep the Reese's chocolate out of her reach, that would be great.