Sunday, September 15, 2013


I have started doing something since I lost Perry. I look at every date I see and it becomes classified into my life in one of a few ways.

Before Perry
Pregnant with Perry
Perry's Birthday
The Golden Age of Perry
Perry's Death
After Perry

Even after Paiden, I still do this.

I find receipts in odd places, expiration dates, or pay stubs. My mind looks, does the math. I found a paystub in my pump bag. It was during the golden days, days worked around October. I paused and memories flooded back. If I could go back and relieve those days, I would. Perry in his carrier, baby leggings, silly excitement over new cloth diapers. Fall was wonderful then, pumpkins and candy, costumes and memories of college days and football games with cold nipping at my nose. Sundays with little boy sweaters, and the serious question of daycare that approached. A future that folded out before me, wonderful and bright. I wanted to see Emily and Perry in happy holiday pictures, proudly shared as 'firsts'. They were so close I could feel the anticipation as these moments hung before me like heavy fruit... in a short time, I was sure, they would be here... I had just to reach out and take them.

I paused. I remembered this paystub- I'd placed it in my bag to go home. But when I got home, it was so insignificant compared to what I saw that it stayed there forgotten. It stayed through the worst days of my life, through initial shock, through days so hard to live that it was a victory to get up and go into the bathroom a few short steps from my bed. It stayed through days of trying, frustration and grief at further loss. It stayed as Paiden formed. It just now emerged...

Tears fall as I remember.

These days it is a confusing jumble. Days or hours of joy, then sadness and loss returns all over again. Even that joy still has a weight with it that never lifts.

And I put it back. Do I toss or keep? I defer.

I return to facebook, but find myself looking and dreaming as I see the dates on friend's pictures... and I categorize again, quietly.
I guess I should tell you, unless you wonder. The joy is still a wonderful surprise, even with the weight. Emily and Paiden have been jewels to me in my darkest days. It is just that you can't undo losing a child or untie the string of longing that binds you still. It isn't depression, it just is.


  1. Found your blog through "Praying for my Rainbow " blog. What an adorable baby boy. Mine, Link, died in March of SIDS. I really related to this post. I'm exactly the same way. Link's life and death will forever categorize my life. I, too, look at everything as before & after. Places we went. Things we did. Pictures especially get me. All it takes is one glance at my face to know which picture is "before" & which is "after." Life is forever changed. I am forever changed. I am thankful that I live in this technological age where I can get support online. I don't know anyone near where I live that has lost a baby to SIDS, so online support is something so important to me. Thanks for sharing!

  2. Heidi- I am very sorry for your loss of Link. I agree, the online community has been a blessing for me. At times in real life I stay quiet because I get the sense I should 'move on'. In reality we are all quite normal for what we have gone through.

  3. Katie, I found your blog from one of your posts on Baby Center. This entry really spoke to me, too. My only child Michael passed away from what appears to be SIDS (we are still waiting for the ME's final conclusion) on August 29 of this year. I often think of August 28 as the last day my life made any sense. And I definitely categorize the other periods of my life as Before Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Michael's Birth, Michael's Time, and After Michael. Michael's Time was the best part of all. Thank you so much for sharing and I am very sorry for your loss.

    1. Cari, I love Michael's sweet picture. He looks like such a handsome guy with a neat personality. I hated that horrific time of waiting- something no parent should understand because babies shouldn't die. I hope that you find yourself surrounded by gentle people this holiday season.