Break My Dreams

Okay, so last night I tried to, for the first time in a LONG time, go out and have a good time.  I should have known better! My cousin and his girlfriend just turned 21 this month, so we decided to go out to a local bar and have a few celebratory cocktails.  I ran into some friends from high school, and it was overall a fun and endearing situation.  I was having a great time.  How I missed this next part coming is beyond me.  We were at a bar down near my house, called Gillian's.  I guess it's a popular place to be in South County.  Which I knew; I was the one who wanted to go there.

I see a group of guys leaving.  Somehow, I didn't see them at all the half hour I had been there.  I take a sip of my drink, realize who's walking out, stop everything I'm doing, and all in one motion I see him.  "Nicholas", Trevor's father.  We haven't spoken or seen each other face-to-face in over two years.  I guess until now I had let go of all the animosity.  I had started coming to terms with the fact that he's a good guy, and maybe we're just different people.  But in that moment, I remembered why we are apart.  He looked at me, as if to try and cut me with his eyes.  Those green eyes that once melted my heart are now piercing me like a knife.  I've almost never seen him so angry.  I've never seen so much hatred in those eyes.  I'm wondering, what went through his mind?

I always knew this day would come.  We live in the smallest state, and even living at opposite ends of it we're only half an hour away.  But why, in such a small state is someone from half and hour away at Gillian's?  I was almost hoping lately that we'd run into each other.  I thought, maybe it would ease my mind.  Instead, it's tossed me up in the air, and I don't know how to land without crashing.  I know we were in a fight last time we spoke; I know we (obviously) have a history, but why was he so horrible?  Even the people I had run into at the bar, were shocked and angry at the look he gave me.  He said nothing, yet he said so much.  That's always been his way, though.  Always.

I have never been more hurt.  I'm starting to dislike myself again.  He always had me brainwashed into thinking I was the scum on the bottom of his shoe; that he was better than me and I'd never amount to anything.  I don't know that he's ever said that out loud, but he might as well have over the years.  Here I am all this time giving him credit!  Thinking he just didn't know how to deal with Trevor's death and maybe he just couldn't handle it all.  But now I think he's really just a horrible person.  After all we've been through, not only do you not say hello, you CRUSH me like that?  What happened to the boy I fell in love with?  Where is the boy who was helping me through my frightened teenage pregnancy, who wanted to marry me and take care of his son?  I know you're probably reading this and thinking I'm overreacting; it was just a look.  But that look, said a thousand hurtful and horrible things in one instant.

What's worse is I chased him!  He walked out the doors and I RAN after him!  He didn't notice, and I stopped myself at the outside door, but how pathetic am I?  I didn't know what else to do!  I had so much to say, so many questions to ask him.  I let him walk away.  Even if we fought, at least I'd know for sure what he's thinking.  I thought I didn't care about him.  I thought I was past this!  I thought I had convinced myself I wasn't worthless, and that Nicholas wasn't going to dictate the way I live my life.

I wonder if he heard through the grapevine (i.e., my dear, but incapable-of-keeping-her-mouth-shut friend, Courtney) that I've been opening up about Trevor.  I know we always said we'd never talk about it; but that's not fair!  I WON'T forget my son and act like he never existed.  I WILL NOT.  I don't care if Nicholas flips out, denies it, hates me, threatens me...the one thing I will not do is go back to not talking about my son.  He is MY SON, not some accident that happened four years ago that I'm going to push to the back of my mind and erase.  I did that for four f***ing years, and I won't waste another day not remembering that precious little life.

I'm sorry for rambling, swearing, getting mad, etc.  I just had to get it out.  Now there's another whole side to my pain.  Another thing to be angry about; another thing to "mourn", if you will.   I loved Nicholas in my memory as a lost boy who happened to handle our tragedy poorly.  Now, again, he's just the a**hole who tore my heart out and stomped on it.

Under The Tree - March

Do you have a special place in your home for your baby/ies? What is it like? Do you have any rituals that you perform in memory of your baby/ies?

I don't. Unfortunately, a lot of people who come and visit me don't know about Trevor. (Read the entry, "How My Angel Earned His Wings" if you're curious.) I have the picture of his name in the sand in a frame, but I put it away when company is coming. It's sad, honestly. But at this point, there's nothing I can do. I am planning on having the few people that know come with me to the beach to release 22 blue balloons in his honor when it gets warmer. This will be the first time I've celebrated his life; instead of mourning it.


If you believe in an afterlife, do you receive signs from your baby/ies? Have you ever felt their presence? Do you find them in nature? Do they visit you in your dreams?

I definitely believe in God and Heaven. I know my little man is with Him. I get signs from Trevor all the time! Even if it's just a little opening in the clouds where the sun is shining through. Or a breeze, or the stars. When I'm at my friends' house, her kids' toys go off all the time when no one is near them. There's a particular one that has gone off almost every time I sit near it or walk by...even if it's turned off! I hear faint giggling, and things knock themselves over all the time. Typical 4-year-old boy! I once had a very vivid dream about my son. He was standing right next to my bed, saying, "Mama, I love you. I'm okay." I coudn't touch him...he was just out of reach! I've never dreamed anything that felt so real.



Do you have a special poem, song, prayer or quote in memory of your baby/ies?

I LOVE LOVE LOVE "Lay Me Down" by Hanson. It's literally written about laying your child to rest. It was inspired by a trip the brothers took to Africa, on which they witnessed first-hand the heartbreak of parents burying their children every day because of AIDS. My son left me for different reasons; but it really hits home.

http://www.imeem.com/people/ZRM56SE/music/GyBtN018/hanson-lay-me-down/

Also, their song "Broken Angel" reminds me a lot of a baby who came too early, like Trevor.

http://www.imeem.com/jukeboxmusic9/music/TdVk7rWN/hanson-broken-angel-lp-version/




For those "Baby Lost Mamas" who don't know about Under The Tree, you should check it out:

http://scarletriver26.blogspot.com/2009/03/under-tree-march.html

A Good Day...For Once

So today I had a sort of "revelation", if you will.  I was taking the 20-minute drive home from Westerly, and it was around the time the sun begins to set.  I was driving along, listening to my favorite music, and suddenly, I felt so at peace; for the first time in a long time.  I don't know what it was: the trees, the clouds, the light pink color the sky was turning, or what; but I thought, that's God.  If that's not something that shows me who God is, I don't know what is.

I thought about my son in that moment.  For the first time, instead of feeling sad, I was relieved.  Relieved to think he's up there with God in Heaven.  I thought, good for him.  I'm happy for you, little man.  So Trevor, Mama loves you; and I know you're happy where you are.  That's all that matters to me now.  I'm sure I will have my share of bad days to come, but today wasn't one of them.  I'm glad for that.

How My Angel Earned His Wings

This is my first post, so I guess I'll tell you my story:

I was eighteen years old, and in what I thought was love.   We'll call him "Nicholas". We had met almost two years earlier and it was infatuation at first sight.  His eyes were so green it took my breath away every time I looked at him.  He was starting his second year of college, and we had talked about how we wanted to wait until after graduation to get married or even consider having children.

It was late August, 2004, and I knew something was going on.  I guess I knew what that something was, but for a while I didn't want to admit it.  I finally braved it one night and made two of my girlfriends take a pregnancy test with me, so I would feel less frightened.  When I got a positive, I panicked.  I buried it in the trash can, said I had "missed" and took the extra one and ran it under the sink.  "Negative".  The whole point of them being there was that I knew they'd be there for me; but when it was real, I was so ashamed of myself that even my two best friends felt untrustworthy.

Being 18-years-intelligent, I then proceeded to drink the jug of wine my friend had gotten for that night's get-together.  Not because I wanted to harm the baby, even for a second; but because I was young, afraid, and didn't know what else to do.  (I still think it may have caused my precious son some damage.)  Then, Nicholas heads down to the party and when he gets there, I can't even speak to him.  He knows something is wrong, but I won't tell him what.  We end up fighting, and I take a nice barefoot, drunk walk up to the main road.  I was ridiculous.  To this day, I don't know what came over me.  It was pathetic; I mean, really.  Again, I just didn't know what else to do.

On the way home, we're not even speaking.  I turn to Nicholas and say, "You're going to be a Dad.  I don't care if you walk away, but I'm keeping our baby; with or without you."  He said nothing.  That nothing, has defined the rest of my life.  We get to my house, and as I'm getting out of the car, he yells "Baby, wait!"  He RUNS to me and grabs me tighter than ever before.  "It's gonna be okay.  I love you."  I suppose that's the best a 19-year-old boy can do.

Flash-forward a month.  I'm turning 19, and I'm 4 months pregnant.  At this point, I'm ecstatic; but terrified.  We have yet to muster the strength to tell anyone other than his sister; one of my best friends.  I am by no means a thin girl with a flat stomach, so it's easy to hide.  I went to only one doctor's appointment, for fear that my mother would somehow find out; but we know it's a boy, and last we knew, a healthy one.  We've decided to name him Trevor.  Nicholas is being really great about it all.  He's saving money and we're looking for apartments, figuring at least one of us would be kicked out of our parents' house.  But overall, we're doing great.  We love each other.

Then there was that day.  The weather was weird, I felt weird, Nicholas felt weird.  We didn't know why.  Something about that day was just so off.   November 22, 2004.  We decided to try and get out; so Nicholas, his sister "Elizabeth", and I went to dinner.  We're at Chili's, and I start feeling weird.  A little crampy, but nothing drastic.  But I feel really, really dizzy.  I thought I was going to pass out.  I got very nauseous, and went to the bathroom.  Then I knew.  There was blood; and a lot of it.  I won't go into details, but it was horrifying.  Here I am, in a Chili's bathroom, 19, pregnant, possibly losing my baby, and I can't even call my Mama.  Elizabeth came in to check on me after a few minutes.  I said, "I'm bleeding," and she flipped out.  She made a bigger scene than I would have liked, but she was just trying to help.

We drive to a hospital 45 minutes away, because we were stupid enough to let people we knew finding out be our biggest concern.  In and out of consciousness, I remember two things: praying (and I was NOT a religious person), and telling my son I was sorry.  We get to the hospital, and they pumped me with more drugs than I ever care to take in a lifetime.  I remember them telling me "You're gonna have to deliver now, sweetheart."  But I was not going for it.  I knew my son was too little; it was too early.  I don't remember much after that.

Trevor Michael was born at 11:22 (on 11/22), and it was determined I had been 22 weeks pregnant.  I had just delivered a 1lb. 60z. baby boy, and for now, he was alive.  They took him from me.  Whisked him away and didn't tell me anything.  Nicholas was crying.  I've never seen him so frightened.  They bring my son back to me and tell me there's nothing they can do.  His lungs aren't big enough to expand with breathing machines.  They thought they'd let me hold him through it all.  He couldn't quite cry; more like a whimper.  He was fighting so hard to breathe, but it just wasn't working.  I couldn't do anything to save my son.  Here he was, the little boy I had dreamed about for so long; and I couldn't help him.  I screamed so loud the whole hospital must have heard it.  "I WANT YOU TO HELP MY SON.  PLEASE HELP MY SON, HE CAN'T BREATHE."  But they couldn't.  So they took him from me, again.  He didn't even die peacefully in his mother's arms.

Time of death: 11:44PM (he was here on earth for 22 minutes).  They wrapped him up in a little blanket with a little blue knit cap and brought our son back to us.  Nicholas held him and told him we were sorry.  That we loved him and we'd never forget him.  Then I held my son's lifeless body in my arms and lost my mind.  I've never been the same.

Elizabeth arranged for Trevor to be buried in the next state over from us.  She, Nicholas and I were the only ones there.  I never publicly acknowledged my son's existence, and it kills me every day.  I didn't know what I was doing.  Please understand, I was still, after all, just a kid.  Elizabeth took one picture of Trevor, in his casket (seen above).  It may sound strange to you, but it's all I have.

I never told my parents.  He never told his.  We erased it.  We erased our son.  Nicholas and I broke up in January 2007.  We've never spoken since.  For various reasons (some pertaining to not talking about our son, some not), I can never forgive him.  I wish sometimes he was here to talk to about our son; but I know it's for the best.

Recently, I started opening up.  I told my best friend about Trevor.  I say his name out loud.  I celebrate his life.  What happened is, I repressed my emotions, and now, four years later I feel like I lost my son yesterday.  I've met some other parents who have lost children.  It's comforting to know I'm not alone, but it's still intolerable.  Thank God for my best friend.  She has helped me through this in ways I can never describe.  I think honestly, I might not be here if it wasn't for her.  Every day is a battle, but I guess that's life.  I started this blog, so that's a step in the right direction.

That's my story, I hope it can help someone.