Thursday, April 12, 2012

Not enough time in the day

I am forcing myself to sit still long enough to write. I have officially overextended myself. There have been so many moments over the last week, that I have known were blog worthy. Then, by the time I can actually sit down and write it out, I'm asleep.

Easter was this deeply personal, emotional and soothing holiday.

The Good Friday service was heart wrenching. Hearing the last words Jesus spoke from the cross made such an impact. It brought me into the darkness of that moment. It made the darkness of my own grief feel more ok for the moment.

Easter morning.
The light within the darkness.
God's promise.
He is risen.

It was all of this and more. I got up while it was still dark. I sat underneath the pavilion at church with the fire burning and watched the sun risen on this blessed day. I celebrated in the fact. One day because he arose from that tomb, I will be with Aidan again. NOTHING lifts my heart quite like that these days.

I've witnessed several sun rises since we buried Aidan. But, none have compared to that glorious day until this past Sunday. The light peaked through the clouds. The birds chirped. The world woke up.

I felt at peace. I don't get true peace very often. That was my Easter gift.

We put some eggs out for Aidan. I don't remember when I first learned the meaning behind the Easter egg, but this year was the first I felt it.

As I hung those empty eggs at Aidan's spot, I marveled at that empty tomb. I smiled because one day I would witness the true marvel of God's promise. One day...

This past Tuesday, I crossed another first off of the list. I shared Aidan's story with strangers in an attempt to make a difference. I was invited to come and share Aidan with some board members for March of Dimes. Because this is my safe place, it has become a sort of scrapbook as well. It feels only right to share those words as well.

It was this time a year ago, three words forever changed our world. "You are pregnant."

We were officially on the journey known as parenthood.

Labor Day weekend of 2011, was supposed to the remarkable. My best friend was getting married; it was our last trip before Aidan would be here. We had seen our high risk specialist just a few weeks before and had seen our baby boy dancing and playing. Our dreams were becoming a reality; we were having a baby boy. On Tuesday, before we headed out of town, we saw our regular OB. With a quick check and the all clear, we were on our way with Aidan safe in my womb.

Saturday was a busy day with joy and wedding festivities. Exhausted, we went back to the hotel.

It was early the next morning, when I realized something was wrong. We went to the hospital just for peace of mind. I just simply thought that I had overdone it. Possibly dehydrated. I was prepared to be told to rest. I was not prepared to be told that I was dilated six centimeters. There was no labor. There were no contractions. There was no infection. Just an incompetent cervix. One small piece of my body was failing.

Attempts were made for a med-flight attempt to UAMS. They were our only hope. All I had to do was hold on for 24 hours. So, I was inverted. I lay very still, listening to his strong heartbeat, I held onto the only thing I had, my love for Aidan. The hours passed, hope started to grow. We thought we just might make it. Ten hours into the day, the contractions started, and then 2 hours later, my water broke. At 5:38 pm Aidan was born breech, horizontal and still. The labor was just too hard for my perfect little boy. Weighing 14.6 ounces and measuring 10 5/8 inches he was perfect, just too fragile.

We don't know why or for what reason yet, but God needed our angel with him. And so our family has grown. We are now three, but we miss him. He is not lost. We know where he is. Our tears are for all of the hopes and dreams we will never get to live out here. Our tears are because we have been thrown into a new normal. We live each day without our child in our arms. And suddenly, this journey was something else entirely. Still parenthood, but without a child to show for it.

We brought Aidan home. Just days earlier, I had no idea the drive home would be with Aidan in my arms. We had him baptized and started planning his services. How do you honor a life that never took a breath? The day we buried him was the day I realized my purpose. Since I would never hear his cry, hear him call for Momma or say I love you, I must be his voice. I am his mom, I share his story. Our story.

As Aidan's mom I made a decision when I realized we would be parted. I made the decision that he will never be forgotten. He will never be the tragedy that struck our family. He will forever be our little boy. Our first born. His legacy will leave its own mark. His footprints no matter how tiny, are perfect and they will leave a lasting mark. On our hearts, on the hearts of so many, on the world.

I have heard many people pose the question, What is the purpose? Is there a reason? While Aidan may have never done the typical things a newborn does he did do the biggest of them. They placed him in my arms and he changed me. He made me want to be better. He made a part of my heart that I never even knew existed come alive. He made me crave heaven in a real, tangible way. He made a mother. In doing this he fulfilled his first purpose. I believe that the rest of Aidan's purpose lies within me. It took him to change me. It will take the two of us to change others. Our story will not be a silent one. Our story will be told. It will be told of love, compassion and grace. It may have started on May 26, 2011 but I refuse to let it end on September 4, 2011. That was only just the beginning. Keeping our story alive continues through "On Aidan's Wings" and his wristbands. We intend to change the lives of future families. Hopefully, we will change what might have been heartache to a happy healthy baby for someone else. That's what the wristbands stand for. As a reminder of the angel he is and the babies of the future. It is up to us as his parents, to share our son, spread awareness and move mountains. Each and every time we are given the opportunity to share his pictures, say his name or comfort another family we are taking strides. All for the love of Aidan.

In the months since Aidan's birth and subsequent death, I have made progress to do these things. There is an amazing network of grieving moms out there. They are just simply pushed aside because those they grieve are tiny. I have sought refuge and strength in these various places.

Holy Sewsis where I can honor Aidan's life by respecting his death. I can help other families in the same situation find some peace and beauty with their child.

Next month, an online magazine will debut. I am blessed enough to be a part of it. Still Standing is a group of women from all over the world who have their grief in common. We are at different stages in this journey. We all want to make a difference. We all have found healing through sharing.

And then there is March of Dimes. Through MOD, I find my hope for tomorrow. It is because of MOD and all that you do, that I am able to dream of a day with a child in my arms. Aidan can never be replaced. My heart is forever scarred, but it can and will love another child.

March of Dimes enables simple things that can be done to ensure that people like me don't end up without a baby or have to endure months of NICU and the subsequent costs. I fully believe that with public awareness the mystery of Incompetent Cervix could be unraveled. An educated woman can be her babies biggest advocate. With a public awareness campaign about IC, both lives and money could be saved.

Nothing can ever lessen the pain of losing our precious Aidan. Saving other babies from the same fate would mean that his life means something. And that means everything. Simply because I am his mother, and I believe that On Aidan's Wings...Hope Flies.


  1. So, so, so many prayers sweet friend. So many.

  2. This is beautiful... simply beautiful! Love & prayers!


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