Of Baby Showers, Patrick, and Love

Today I went to a friend's baby shower.  I generally would not subject myself to all things baby when I am in the midst of a baby bug, but this was for a very dear friend.  She was one of Patrick's caregivers.  And because of that, in addition to things from her registry, I went down into my basement and opened up our box of Patrick's things and selected one of his sleep & play rompers to give to her baby since they are having a boy.  I wrapped it separately and marked the card to the baby from Patrick.  I told Phil what I was doing, and he agreed 100%.  Still, I was completely unprepared for the wave of emotion I would feel when she opened it up and then again at the end of the shower when I told her I hoped it was okay with her what I had done (she assured me it was).

Memories of Patrick are all around.  Pictures, books, what have you.  We talk about him, too.  There are days I think we are doing really well, but there are others when it feels like my wound has just been freshly ripped open and I might as well be back at square one.  I had one of these moments walking into the church nursery where I volunteered to watch children during church.  Seeing all of the things we donated just brought his absence freshly to mind in a way I had not expected.  It hasn't gotten easier.  Each week I walk in and all of the memories come flooding back.  I wonder what happened to the detachment and certainty and love I had when I was donating the items and putting the nursery together.  I have no doubt we did the right thing then, and I am certain I am doing the right thing now.  I'm just frustrated that my feelings have taken me on an unexpected journey.

This week marks the anniversary of when Patrick returned to the hospital for his final, months-long hospitalization.  I know that it has a lot to do with my mood.  I wonder if I will ever go through a year without having huge mood swings when these anniversaries come.  I wonder if I will ever stop yearning for a rainbow baby.  But one thing I don't have to wonder about is whether Patrick was loved.  He was so loved.  And he was special.  Not just to me, but to so any people.  And I am still working on ways to spread his love and light and joy with the world.  But I think I managed that in a small way today.  And yes it was sad.  But it was also so very good.  Because there is a new little boy coming into the world who is going to be loved so very much.  And he's going to get his very own Patrick snuggles.  Snuggles like his momma so freely gave to Patrick.  Because snuggles are love.  And love keeps going long after someone is gone.  And for that, I am so very thankful.

I Dreamed of You

As I headed out to Denver for my week of writing and relaxation, I found myself thinking a lot about Patrick.  Between swiftly approaching anniversaries and editing my manuscript in which he features prominently, my mind has been full of thoughts and pictures of him, so it was no surprise that I dreamed of him the night before the trip.  Thus, I found myself sitting in the airport, wanting desperately to write something, but not feeling like working on my book.  I was surprised to discover that I wanted to write more poetry.  See, I am not really a poetry person, or, at least I didn't use to be.  Apparently, among all the changes that I have undergone from these experiences, feeling like writing more poetry is another to add to the list.  So, sitting in the Detroit airport, sun blazing in the windows, I wrote a poem to Patrick.

I Dreamed of You

I dreamed of you last night;
that you were here with me.
I held you in my arms again
and rocked you fast asleep.

Closed eyes framed with lashes.
Your soft, contented sighs.
My heart swelled with maternal love
that made up for your cries.

Your small but wild patch
of red and curly hair
matched with a wicked grin and laugh
you never failed to share.

You wore a hooded shirt
of sea foam green and white.
It almost hid the cannula
that wrapped your face so tight.

You were alive again.
Just like in your last days.
I was so sure that it was real,
so piercing was your gaze.

Instead, it was a dream
But one I'm glad I had.
I got to feel your love again,
although it made me sad.

And though sometimes I'm broken,
and struggle with dismay.
Knowing you still watch over me
helped get me through my day.