Love Remembers

(This is a photo of me by Shawn's bed during his first week of life--he's so tiny you can barely see him!) I usually feel guilty after a post like this. Anytime I bring up Shawn's death and how I still hurt and grieve after so much time, I wonder who's out there saying "GET OVER IT." "MOVE ON." "COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS!" But then I got a card this month from the Central Arkansas Chapter of the Bereaved Parents of the USA and it had this poem in it:

Memories

When you need to . . .

Reach deep inside and take one of your precious memories.

Wipe away the cobwebs, lay it out in front of you.

And let the sunshine and the sounds engulf you.

Revel in then experience of it.

Relive each precious moment, be overwhelmed by them,

And taste the wonderful sweet tears that are their gift.

When your needs have been almost satisfied

Pause for one more second.

Then gently fold it back up, give it a big hug and a tender kiss,

And return it to where you found it.

Then to make the experience complete,

Find someone special and share the feelings with them.

For surely something as wonderful as this is meant to be shared!

Don't be afraid of using them--that's what memories are for.

You will never lose them.

For as certain as the sun will rise tomorrow,

Love once attained is never lost.

~Steve Channing

And after reading that I realized I need not feel guilty for reliving the memories--he did live after all, and I should go on celebrating the gift of his life no matter the time that has passed. And pouring my energy into a scrapbook page is definitely my way of not only coping, but honoring Shawn's life in my own special way. So from these thoughts "Love Remembers" was born:

Dearest Shawn,
I’m writing this just minutes after the anniversary of your death. Somedays it seems just like yesterday, amazing how my mind can keep some memories so fresh. Every August is a month of anniversaries and memories for me, and I can’t help but relive them in your honor each year. I’m determined to keep your memory alive no matter how short your little life was. Some details that are fuzzy, but I do the best I can with what my mind remembers.

You were determined to be born that morning—it didn’t matter to you that it was too early! So at 1:42 am on August 10, 2003, you came into our world. You were whisked off to another room so fast that we had to be told you actually cried out loud before you were intubated. Man, what I would give to hear that cry now! I barely remember getting to see you while I recovered from surgery. I know I got to touch you, but it upsets me that I can’t remember that first touch. I do remember how excited your Pop was when Daddy told him your names. With pride he said, “that sounds a lot like John Phillip.” I was so glad he liked it. The next few days were a blur, but in general I remember you doing much better than your brother. It was during these first few hours that I realized how different you can love your children, but still love them the same. You were the oldest and I saw you as the strong, silent type. Just biding your time and spending each day getting better and stronger. Of course Clayton being the youngest, he kept us on our toes constantly—craving attention from day one! All the while, you calmly fought your battles—never having any major troubles. I do remember that the doctors talked about 72 hours being a magical number—your first milestone reached if you could make it that long. So EARLY Wednesday morning, Daddy and I left my hospital room to go be with you to celebrate in the NICU. We began to bond with you both that quiet night. That whole first week was spent watching your ventilator settings and keeping up with Clayton’s issues. And that first weekend was spent juggling the task of visiting you both at different hospitals since Clayton had been moved. We were so relieved when you moved to ACH on the 18th. You even got a bed right next to Clayton’s! Again, the second week proved to be a battleground for Clayton, while you made improvements each day. I was overjoyed when you started “drinking” my breast milk 1 cc at a time—I was finally a part of your care!!! And it was so neat to watch your little mouth do the sucking motion on the ventilator tube—you were definitely ready to eat!! Another big memory of that week is how you literally tried to crawl out of the bed a couple of times. One doctor told us he had never seen another 24-weeker just days old and still so agile. We were beaming because we just knew you were advanced!!! We were starting to settle into a routine, learning the ropes of life in the NICU. We visited you and Clayton on the night of the 25th and it ended up being a very special time. It was just us, our little family (and all the NICU babies and staff). It was quiet that night in the nursery and we were able to bond as best we could with you both. We loved your strawberry blonde hair and how you responded to our touch. But YOU made our night when you opened your right eye to peek at us! We were ECSTATIC! It’s like we could finally see into your little world! I thank the Lord for that night. It was as if you were sending us a sign of some sort, a sign that you were going to be okay. We had no clue that it would come in the form of us having to say goodbye though. And even though you aren’t here today, you are still with us in spirit—a vital part of our beings. I love you so much, Shawn! And as long as I’m living, I will always remember . . . Love, Momma 8/28/08

And now, for this day at least, my "experience" is complete . . .