A Celebration of Life

It is so incredibly foreign to write something on here.  I am trying to figure out if I can compare it to something, but I'm not sure how best to describe it...it's not quite the same as a journal, I suppose it shouldn't be difficult to talk to yourself if you at one point did that regularly.  The more I think about it, though, that is probably the exact reason this feels so awkward.  I don't know what to say to myself.  I started this blog for Ryder thinking that if there were bad days (as their most certainly would be) I wouldn't be able to repeatedly describe a setback to anyone and this would be any easy way to opt out of that.  As time went on I spent a lot of time writing to convince the small part of myself that remained sad, afraid and very lost that it would all turn out perfectly if we never lost hope.  And this helped.  We never did lose hope in our little warrior. 

I suppose then you have to ask, what does turn out perfectly even mean?  I get very caught up on the loss - how can anything be "perfect" if a life is lost, if you have to give up so much?  Our baby is gone.  I can't think of words to describe the disappointment of asking, praying, begging, pleading for a miracle and not getting it.  Especially when you can't understand why.  But I focus mostly on what I was asking for last November.  I wanted to bring my Ryder home for Christmas.  But that doesn't make sense to dwell on either, since that was at least the thousandth miracle I asked for.  I got nine months and 2 days full of miracles.  What I think I have realized more recently is that what I really wanted was for it to turn out perfectly for me.  Ryder's life was beautiful, and when his life ended, he became completely perfect - free of sorrow, free of tears, free of pain and his little heart has been made new.

We celebrated Ryder's life along with many other sweet lives that ended at Children's Mercy a few weeks ago...it was a nice ceremony and I am very glad we went but truthfully it was just as awful as you can imagine it would be.  It was a group funeral of sorts.  Grief is heavy and confusing because it is usually mixed with varying degrees of thankfulness, anger, pain, sadness, guilt, etc. so you can only imagine putting immeasurable amounts of that all of that in one room.  There is no room big enough to hold that which very much made it feel humid in said room and very much like the ceiling would cave in, the oxygen would run out and we would all suffocate.  But then we went outside and released hundreds of butterflies...amazing.

 

And last, but not least, this February we are so excited to celebrate another new little life...a little boy who is already very loved.  It breaks my heart to think he will never meet his brother (here on Earth) because I automatically picture all three of our babies being here at home with us, but I know he will carry Ryder's heart with him, forever.  Do you see the perfect butterfly shape of that little heart? If only ultrasound showed color, I suspect it would show up yellow...