I'm actually doing a lot better!

Recently, I've been blogging about my anger toward God for what has happened to Caleb. What mother honestly wouldn't be? I've spent a lot of time whining and complaining about how terrible my life has been, and not reflecting on the good that has come out of this tragic situation.

I've become increasingly aware of the use of the word "retarded," and I hate it. Sadly enough, it's used too often to describe people that have a lapse in judgment. I let it slide because it doesn't matter how much I yell at and tell people that it's not appropriate to use it, especially in front of a woman that has had a baby that was born with MR. I've not given up on my endeavor to eliminate use of this deplorable word, however, I alone can't be the one to stop one's usage. If everyone reads this blog and tells someone to stop using that saying, we'd be able to make a small difference.

I went camping with my sister and my best friend over Memorial Day weekend. Friday night, after we finished setting up camp, we were sitting around the table and I realized that Staci and I haven't really had the time to talk about Caleb. I've talked with my mother, Kourie, my therapist, people I work with...but not Staci. So I started the conversation, and it wasn't until Kourie and Staci both said, "Lindsey, you gave birth to your angel." It woke me up. I haven't felt my usually depressing moods since. I'm not counting out the fact that they can come back, but I've learned to manage the feelings.

Biggest thing to happen; I fitted my first ringbearer named Caleb and handled it amazingly. I was able to say his name and talk to him without tearing up. I'm so very proud of myself. I wish I could explain the feeling when you realize that you son's name is not a swear word. Simply put, it was liberating to say his name over and over without a feeling of sadness. I'm proud of myself.

So I'm trying to be the eternal optimist. Let's see if it works.

My first Mother's Day

So Sunday was Mother's Day; my first without my precious boy. As I sit here, there is a picture of him sitting beside me and it hurts. I have pictures of him everywhere actually. Constant reminders that I did everything I could to help him make it here safe. Constant reminders of the love that I have in my heart for him. As much as I enjoy looking at all the pictures I have of my little man, they hurt me just as much. I would give absolutely anything to put him in my arms and kiss him again. It wasn't too bad I guess. Mom and Kourie got one of these pictures blown up and added a sepia tone to match a picture of mother/baby giraffes I had purchased the week before. The giraffe poster is more or less a metaphor of how Caleb and I were.

Tuesday was his 5 month birthday. I went to the cemetery and realized how quickly the ground around his burial plot is starting to settle. I used to be able to find him easily, but now it's beginning to blend in with the rest of it. I'm feeling a little uneasy about this. I really dread the day I go there and the grass over him isn't browning so I can easily find him. He still doesn't have a headstone, and it makes me mad that I've waited this long. I know that I have to wait for the ground to dry and settle. Ugh. It'll happen soon Caleb. I promise.

Kourie and I had an interesting conversation the other day. We decided that we're kinda sick of some people's attempt of trying to make us feel better. I've had other mothers that have lost babies and they get it. They understand what I and my family is going through. It's the people that have NO IDEA are trying to make us feel better or possibly blame me for what has happened to him.

For example, before he was born, Kourie was at Dingbat's with a friend just venting about the entire situation. She was upset that the father left, and that we were given this to deal with as well. A woman sitting at the bar overheard the conversation and turned to her. She simply said, "Well, maybe your sister did something to deserve this." She blamed me for having a child out of wedlock and this was God's punishment for being a bad person. A woman that knew absolutely nothing about me, my situation and just decided to throw her 2 cents in. I'm angry with this, but I've forgiven her. Her ignorance isn't going to tie me down and make me want to hate her.

I've heard a million things ranging from, "Everything happens for a reason," to "You're young, you'll have a healthy baby in the future." I appreciate everyone spreading their condolences, but a lot of these things are not helping. I especially hate the "healthy future baby" comment. What you people simply don't understand is that it won't matter how many babies I have in the future, NONE OF THEM WILL BE MY CALEB!!!!!!!!!! I'm truly sorry for showing my emotion here on my blog and my anger for ignorance. This is just my venting. My son was one of a kind. There will never be a replacement for him. There will never be another perfect baby with a double left earlobe, or a dimple in his chin with a perfect button nose. There will never be another perfect child with ankles that cracked when he kicked me or sapphire eyes that opened just a crack so I could see them. I can have boys in the future, but who knows what Caleb could have done. Just please, if you see me in public and you have NO idea what it's like to lose a baby, just tell me you're sorry and move along. I don't want any sympathizing with someone throwing God in my face. I beat myself up enough everyday trying to figure out why it was my son that had to go back to Heaven only 10 months after knowing of him.