moving on: Pink skies and a box of ashes

Journal on pain, grief & healing

ABOUT MY JOURNAL
On September 4, 2006 our son was born prematurely at 22 weeks 6 days. He didn't survive the delivery. We named him Nolan. This means ‘champion/ fighter’. The first week after his loss, we were in such a state of shock. We felt emotionally paralyzed. Friends and family call to ask how we are feeling. We say "fine" and "okay". But honestly? We don't even KNOW what we're feeling right now. The pain and emptiness is overwhelming. The emotions too raw to handle. The heaviness in my heart is aching in my whole body. Yet at other moments I feel so appreciative of what I DO have. A wonderful husband, a beautiful daughter, loving and supportive friends and family, freedom, the sunshine. I laugh, I cry and I try to pick up the pieces and move on. What else can I do? It has been such a traumatic experience. I feel the need to talk about it. Over and over again. But who can I keep bothering with my fear and tears, my anger, my confusion, my disbelieve, the jealousy, the disappointment, the hysteria in my head? I am not afraid to face this pain and emptiness. I know that there are lessons to be learned. I fear more that I'll move on too fast. That Nolan will be forgotten one day, that this profound experience in my life will be swept under the carpet soon. By others, or by myself! I don’t want the people around to feel uncomfortable with my grief. So I act strong. But I need to stay real. At least with myself. I NEED to write. So I won't lose my mind. So I won't forget the details. So I can track my progress toward healing. So YOU know how I am REALLY doing today if I say “fine”. And may be - one day – my journal can be of support to other women that have just lost their premature baby. Love and light, Jessica

January 04, 2007

Pink skies and a box of ashes

Yesterday was Nolan's due date. Somehow I had been anxiously anticipating this day as if I were facing the guillotine.

The day came. And went. I woke up without the big knot in my stomach. I didn't feel the heavy sadness all around me. It was just another day. Imani woke up between us and sat straight up in the bed. "Look at the sunrise!", she said. The whole sky was pink. So beautiful. (Did I ever mention I have water view from my bedroom?). I felt like Nolan was saying "hi" from above. "It's good up here, mom, I'm okay". If anything, it just warmed my heart. No tears.

It was a school day. We just did our normal daily stuff. I made lunch boxes, brought te kids to school, procrastinated cleaning up the house, I even watched Annabel for an hour and after that I picked up Imani from school. She had a play date at AnneMarie's house. Norman and I had planned on finally picking up Nolan's ashes.

His ashes had been at the funeral home for 3 months now. In the beginning we just couldn't bring ourselfs to go pick them up. And later, it just didn't seem so urgent. And honestly, the fact that we had to pay a good $800 wasn't a big incentive either. But hey.... we can't leave his remainders there forever and his due date seemed like a nice symbolic day to go pick "him" up.

On the way over, in the car, Norm and I just talked about work. Not a second was there a heavy moment. Like.... as if you're on your way to a funeral home to pick up whatever is left of your baby boy. We did not reflect on our loss, our pain, our empty crib. After all, everything has been said before.

In the funeral home we even joked. About the smell, about the ashes ("how do we know it is really Nolan, for those $800, and not somebodies fireplace dust?"). When we finally left the building, me holding the little box in my hands, Norman said "don't drop it!". The idea of me flat on the pavement with the ashes all around me, was just hilarious!

On the way back in the car I felt a little more aware of his death and the fact that he COULD have been born today. Instead I was holding a box with ashes. I didn't cry. It was more a strange sort of observation of it all. But for a brief moment I did feel a little more sad. We were done joking. We were done acting "airy". Now we were on our way back. With a box of ashes on my lap. The weird thing is... I felt such LOVE and affinity for the damn box. People, we're talking about a box! With in it a little bag of ashes. I wanted to hug it. I-wanted-to-hug-a-box! That's as close as I could feel to Nolan on a 'physical' level. I didn't, of course. I was embarrassed just thinking it. Hug the box. But later, when we were at home, I saw Norman place a little kiss on the box. So I guess I'm not that crazy after all.

The rest of the day was normal. We didn't do our beach ceremony, like we'd planned, spreading his ashes in the sea. We'll probably wait another 3 months with that, knowing us. We just aren't ready for closure. We just don't want to say goodbye. Yet.

Norman went back to work, I booked a ticket to Paris and Amsterdam for next week. If anything, I felt good. Not sad. People had called me, to see how I was holding up on this hard day. My family e-mailed me from Holland. I got flowers, cards and even a book as a token of compassion. God, I feel so loved and supported. I am so blessed with sincerely good friends and a wonderful family.

When I came home from picking Imani up, Evan had made a little shrine around Nolan's ash-box. He placed candles all around it, special stones and his picture was there too. Not the picture of Nolan after he is born. I still haven't shared that with anyone but Norman. But his ultrasound picture.

Evan went through all this trouble. But I didn't feel tears welling up. To be honest, I didn't really like the altar thing. But I didn't want to hurt Evan's feelings. He seems to be very intrigued with the death of his baby brother. I have more sympathy for Imani and her innocent curiosity about Nolan's deaty, than I have for the teenage drama approach around all this. But I want to be a supportive parent. Young adulthood is hard. I remember those years. Every major event seems more intens when you're a teenager. But a shrine? In my living room?

So now I have a table in my living room with stones and candles and a box of ashes and Nolan's ultrasound picture. How long should I leave that up, before I can gracefully take it down without hurting his feelings?

Also, the ashes got Imani upset. I was planning to just stuff Nolan's box somewhere in the back of a closet, until soon we would be ready for that beach walk. Imani wants to make a drawing and hang it on a balloon. That idea is sweet. Innocent. She feels that the balloon will go up to God and the angels. I can handle that. It's symbolic. Not so graphic, like, eh... a box of dust standing in your living room! But now Evan had put that box in the middle of an altar and of course my curious 5-year old wants to know what all this is about. So he tells her, before I can collect my thoughts on this, "those are Nolan's ashes!" That's more than I had intended on sharing with her. She knew that Nolan's soul (she calls it "his little light") went back to God. She never thought about the physical body. Until yesterday. She started crying. "Really mom, is that Nolan?" pointing at the box.

Sigh. What to do? What to say? Here I have a teenager, who is intrigued with the ceremonial part of death. And a little child, who I want to keep as pure and innocent as possible, for as long as possible. They were both staring at me. I had no choice but to explain, as child-like as I could, what was in that box. And if that wasn't enough... Now she wanted to see it. So I opened the box. Out came a velvet pouch. "What's in the pouch, mom?" So I opened the purple bag with golden letters and out comes a ziploc with dust. A ziploc! Thank God for 5-year olds. All she said was "Ehhhww". I took that as my cue to quickly close the velvet pouch and the box. "Can I watch TV mom?". Yes please, let's all get back to normal. But now with a box on our table.

So. The day wasn't extra sad. Not any more sad than the day before. Or tomorrow. Looking back at it, it was just a date on the calendar. What else was there to say? We had talked about Nolan hundreds of times before. We didn't have anything new to add yesterday. Yes, he COULD have been born yesterday. Yes, we miss him dearly. And yes, we would do anything to have him back. But it is what it is. A bunch of ashes. That's all.

When Norman turned off the lights at the end of the day, he turned over to me and said "That pink sunrise this morning? That made me think of Nolan". I know, honey. So many things make me think of him. Hummingbirds. Monarch butterflies. And now pink skies...

Posted at 08:49 PM | Permalink

Comments

*hug*

It's great you booked a ticket to Paris and Amsterdam, are you coming alone or with Norm and Imani? I think you've deserved this trip!

x Aderyn

Posted by: Aderyn | January 05, 2007 at 04:34 AM

Perhaps you will be ready to let him go when we place the cobblestone at the lighthouse in the spring ? Whenever you feel the time is right.

Miss you ... lexi xx

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