Eight Months

It's March 1st. Eight months ago today Nash went to heaven.

I can't believe I'm through two-thirds of the first year without him. Four months from today will be one entire year. I just cannot get over the fact that the clock keeps ticking; that the days keep going; that the calendar continues on. Each month that we get through brings us farther from the time that Nash was here and I hate that. As much as time is supposed to heal, it also does it's fair share of hurting.

I get so afraid that I am going to start forgetting little things. I want to remember EVERYTHING. Every single look, every smile, every cry... everything. I want to remember every centimeter of his precious body... And I'm just so terrified that over time, those things will fade, like most of my other memories. Time has a tendency of making memories a little less clear; a little blurred around the edges and I don't want that to happen when it comes to Nash.

The night Nash died, I got to hold him for almost six hours, wrapped in blankets, waiting for Brad to get to the hospital. This is one moment I know I will never forget. I clearly remember how beautiful he looked, lying in my arms. It seems so cliche' but he was so peaceful. His sweet little face, so angelic. His scent still lingering on his skin. I don't think that vision will ever leave my mind. And, as hard as it was, I wouldn't have it any other way. It was the last time I would hold my son.

So today is just one of many that have proven to be difficult. And I know that these days will continue - that there isn't a time when these days will just stop. Every breath I take reminds me that I am not whole and never will be. But I am learning how to cope with it and understanding that Nash is still with me, just in a different way.

I am incredibly proud to be Nash's mom. And I have said it so many times: If God would've told me, "I have a child for you. But he will only live with you for just over five months. Do you still want him?" There is no doubt that my answer would have been yes.

So my sweet, sweet, Nashy... If I had it to do all over again, knowing everything I know now. The pain, the anguish, the despair, the desperate longing for my son... I still would have chosen you. Every time, Baby, every single time.

Love to y'all,

Tracy

The March is On!

You probably noticed the new link here at the top of my blog. I have officially began raising money for the March For Babies, sponsored by the March of Dimes. The mission of March of Dimes is to improve the health of babies by preventing birth defects, premature birth, and infant mortality. On April 18, we will be walking in memory of Nash for this worthy cause.

Please feel free to check out the site by clicking on the link. You can read more about Nash's story, the March of Dimes, or donate money to our team in Nash's name.

I really look forward to this day. What an amazing way to honor our son.

Love to y'all,
Tracy

"Baby Lainey"

Mt friend, Abby, and her almost 10 month old daughter, Lainey, came over today to play. For the most part, Tate was pretty good with her. He had a great time showing her all of his boy toys and made sure to show off his"wipe-out" skills right when she arrived.

The two kids played together a lot despite the big age difference. Lainey's a tough little cookie, so she had no problem when Tate almost ran her over with his scooter or chucked a ball inches from her sweet little head. He even let her try on his hat - which most of you know, is probably his most prized possession.

At one point Tate got tired of me trying to take his picture, so he turned into a little paparazzi himself. Here are some of his best shots...

Nice, huh?

And just a quick update for those of you that read the last post about Tate's infection in his eye... the follow-up check yesterday went perfect - his eye looks cleared up. And his pediatrician called last night to say that the preliminary check of his bloodwork looked good... nothing abnormal and no indication that we need to be worried. We'll get the final results in a few days or so.

Thank you to all of you who sent us your prayers on Tuesday. I know that my reaction was not the same as it would have been if this would have happened a year ago. And I guess I didn't really even realize how much anxiety and fear I hold inside all of the time. But it all came rushing out of me that day and I'm grateful that I have so many amazing people in my life to hold me up when I can't do it by myself. Thank you, thank you.

Love to y'all,

Tracy

Here's Tate on Tuesday night after his ordeal at the doctor - his left eye is still a little swollen and he's showing off where he had his "owie." (And no, we don't usually let him have suckers in the bathtub, but it'd been a tough day!)

Please Pray

Today began like any other day. Then around 8:00 my mom called me at work to say that Tate woke up with a lot of puffiness around his bottom left eyelid. I told her he didn't bang it on anything, so we figured he may have gotten bit by something in his sleep. Either way, she took him to the pediatrician just to be safe.

I got a call at work around 11:30. My mom said that the doctor thought it was some type of infection and wanted to do some blood work. So they pricked his finger and wanted to take some more blood in a blood test. But when they were trying to find his veins they were having a lot of trouble so they wanted him to go over to the hospital to have someone in the lab do it. WHAT???

Hospital? Labs? Bloodwork? The last time I heard any words like these, my baby passed away within hours. It all came rushing back to me. Of course, I am much more sensitive to anything being wrong with my little boy now that we have dealt with the most terrible thing. I felt sick and hot and confused and overwhelmed as I hung up the phone. It's a good thing I was in the office at school because they kept me as calm as I could be and got me situated. By the time I got my purse, Brad was already in the lobby (he was actually bringing me lunch today). So we left in a rush for the doctor's office.

I couldn't help but be afraid that something was really wrong and that this was just the beginning of another nightmare. I found myself already pleading with God, "Please don't take my other baby." It seems so silly to jump to this conclusion and yet, at the time, it's all I could think about.

We got to the doctor and Tate was happy as could be. He didn't cry at all when they pricked his finger and was proud to show off his "muscles" as they looked for veins (which they still couldn't find). We headed to the hospital and after an hour and a half of waiting, we went into a room so they could draw his blood. Tate laid there like a champ, letting the nurse look at his arm. When she stuck the needle in, he screamed and begged me to make her take it out..."STOP touching my arm!" he kept yelling...talk about breaking a mommy's heart. She was jiggling it in his arm for about three minutes (yes, I was watching the clock, praying it would be over soon) and she didn't get one drop of blood. So we took a little break and another nurse came in to try again. By this time, Tate was on to us, but he laid still and let her try. Thank God, she got it almost right away. Once she was done, Tate sat up, drank his apple juice and ate the graham cracker she gave him.

The doctor told me that she thinks it is some sort of infection that is showing up in his eye (which she says is common in little ones). The finger prick showed all his levels to be within normal range. We'll get the results of the bloodtest each day for the next five days to make sure it's nothing serious and in the mean time she put him on some antibiotics.

I am praying that the doctor is right and that this is really no big deal. But I can't help but worry. I hate this. I hate that these horrible thoughts even enter my mind. It's just so incredibly scary. So many people say that losing a child is the worst thing any parent can go through... but there is something worse, and that's losing another one. So when something happens that makes me think, even for the briefest moment, that Tate's life may be in jeopardy, I can feel myself completely falling apart. I don't know if this will ever go away.

So please, please pray for sweet Tate. Pray that it is just a small infection that will go away. Pray that he stays strong and fights it. Pray that Brad and I remain strong for him. Pray for the worry and anxiety to calm down. Thanks so much.

Love to y'all,
Tracy

We Are the Champions...Almost

So we spent the weekend watching Brad and his buddies play in a softball tournament. As most of you know, this is how we spend a lot of weekends between March and October. And here we are, getting ready to begin another season. (According to Brad, they had to play this weekend to "practice" for the next tournament that actually matters...). They ended up getting second place out of eighteen teams so that was good - way to go, boys!

The weather was pretty nasty - SUPER windy, which made the temp seem really cool, compared to the forcasts. But we were lucky, because our great friends, the Yochims (Kort, Mandi, Averi, and Kade) were there too. So Tate got to spend all his time with his best buddy. They have the best time together - constantly talking, laughing, and running around. It's so fun to watch. Here are some highlights:

The boys were in a field playing, while we watched. All of a sudden we noticed they were barefoot. Then they were helping each other take off their jackets. And before we knew it, off came their t-shirts. There they were running around, showing off their six packs to the world!!!

Neither boy understood how to cheer for the guys - when one cheered for his "daddy" the other would call him daddy too. When Tate would cheer for "Mr. Kort," Kade would say it too even though that was his dad. Kade always calls Brad "Uncle Brad" so he was cheering for him this way. Then Tate would say it and I'd say, "No, that's your daddy." So eventually, when Brad was up to bat, Tate would yell, "Go Uncle Daddy!"

The boys spent this morning helping each other apply Averi's Hannah Montana glittery lip gloss. Should we be worried?

I can't believe it's already Sunday night. Where did the weekend go? I guess sitting at a softball field for two days straight will do that, huh?

Have a great week!

Love to y'all,

Tracy

Marching for Babies

I've always known about the March of Dimes. I knew that they did a lot of work for sick babies - raising money, helping families, seeking treatments. But that was really the extent of my knowledge. I think I may have even donated to them before...but never did I think that I would be one of the people that would feel a connection to this organization the way I do now.

The March of Dimes' goal is to improve the health of babies by preventing birth defects, premature birth and infant mortality. They carry out this mission through research, community services, education and advocacy to save babies' lives. Their dream is that one day all babies will be born healthy.

I was recently reintroduced to the March of Dimes by a dear friend of mine, Linda. She knows too well the pain of losing a baby and has grown to be a lifeline as I struggle through my grief. I often think of her sweet little girl, Madison, playing alongside Nash in heaven. I am confident that they have found friendship in each other, just as their mothers have. Since Madison passed away, Linda has put forth so much time and energy giving back to the March of Dimes.

So today I was invited to go with Linda and her friend, Heather, to a March of Dimes breakfast in Dallas to kick-off a special event that is coming up this spring. On April 18, my family and I will be walking with Linda's team in the March For Babies. It is a five mile walk, whose participants raise money that will be donated to the March of Dimes. I am working on setting up a webpage that explains everything further and I will be sure to let y'all know when I have it done. So please be checking back in the near future.

The breakfast itself was very inspiring - so many stories of hope; of babies beating the odds. As wonderful as it was to hear, it was so hard for me not to just crumble to the floor, wondering why my baby wasn't saved. Why couldn't we be one of those families with a happy ending?

After breakfast, the three of us headed over to meet up with one of Linda and Heather's friends, Vicky - a former NICU nurse that not only worked with their babies while they were in the hospital, but has also become a huge source of comfort and support for them. Through Linda, I have gotten to know Vicky and have emailed back and forth with her a bit. But meeting her was so uplifting. She is a wonderful woman, who put me at ease from the moment she said hello. She listened intently as I told Nash's story and we all cried together, feeling each other's pain. I also had a lot of medical questions about the circumstances surrounding Nash's death that Vicky clarified for me. I am so thankful to have met her and plan on seeing her again at various March of Dimes functions.

So, Linda, Heather, and Vicky... if any of you read this, thank you for listening. Thank you for being there. Thank you for including me. Thank you for sharing your stories. I am touched by your strength and admire your committment to helping this amazing cause.

Love to y'all,

Tracy

Friends and Football

We're so blessed to have a fun group of friends to hang out with. This past weekend, we went to a Mardi Gras Party with a bunch of my "teacher friends" (that's what Brad calls them). It's funny how the husbands have all bonded so quickly - every time we get together, the boys all crowd around each other, while us girls stick together...it's like middle school all over again! This is Tate being "tough."
He's has been spending much of his time lately practicing his "wipeouts."

Yesterday, we went to another friend's house for a Super Bowl Party. Tate loved watching all the pregame stuff that was on all day. During lunch he was watching and kept screaming, "Go Iowa State!!!" at the top of his lungs...I guess he doesn't quite get it yet.

As fun as yesterday was, it was really difficult too. Last year, we had both boys with us for the Super Bowl. I remember exactly what Nash was wearing. He sat on Brad's lap almost the entire time, sweet as could be. He was three weeks old. We were truly happy, truly content.

Yesterday was also the seven month anniversary of Nash's death. I think everything was building all day and finally burst once I got Tate into bed. I was putting on my pajamas and just lost it, standing in our closet. I found one of Nash's onesies and just stood there crying as I held it. It was the one that he wore for Easter last year. How is possible that I will never see him in it again? My sweet, sweet boy. What I wouldn't give to hold him just one more time...just once more. Seven months is way too long for a mother and father to go without their baby. And my heart hurts knowing that the time is just going to keep ticking away whether I like it or not. That's a hard thing for me to accept...but with the help of God, I'm working on it.

I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.

~ Phillippians 4:13

Love to y'all,

Tracy