Last Year

Last year, Easter was wonderful... a house full of little boys, Easter eggs, and laughter. Last year I was completely happy. One hundred percent. Last year my life was full as I celebrated this important day with the boys I loved so dearly.

So this year, I was actually looking forward to Easter because lately I've been thinking more and more about the meaning behind it. I was taught what Easter was all about at a young age, like most other Christians. But this year, I found that I am beyond grateful that we are able to celebrate this day... All because of a God that loves us so completely that He sacrificed His only son for our eternal happiness. There are no words that can explain how deeply I am affected by this. Many times this is what gets me out of bed in the morning. My faith in this has gotten me this far in my grief journey. So I was looking forward to celebrating this year.

But once the day came, the emotions running through my veins were so much more painful than I had imagined. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was just because I didn't expect it to hit me as it did. Maybe it was because I kept thinking about how last year my biggest concern was getting through the entire Mass without either of my sons creating a loud scene. Or maybe it was because I was just plain overwhelmed. It doesn't really matter the reason behind it, all I know is that I felt literally sick all day, as my heart crumbled into more pieces.

Of course I enjoyed watching Tate find his Easter eggs. He made me smile through my tears like he always does. But I couldn't help but imagine the day with another little boy running around, trying his best to keep up with the big brother that he adored so much. What a beautiful day it would have been...

Instead of toys and candy, I had to settle for Nash's Easter basket filled with white roses as it sat on the center of our table during dinner. While I love this tradition (and will continue it in the future), I hate that I have to do it. It's not the way I ever imagined my Easters to be.
What I wouldn't give to go back to a year ago... two Easter baskets. Two little boys. A full heart. Not wanting anything more than what I already had. Complete contentment. It seems so far away now. Like some fantastic dream. Now I must learn to live on hope and faith that there will be a day when we all will be reunited in God's kingdom forever and ever. Happy Easter.

We live by faith, not by sight. ~ 2 Corinthians 5:7

Love to y'all,
Tracy

Did He Really Just Say That?!

A funny story... (WARNING: Bathroom Humor!)

I was getting Tate ready for a bath and stripped him down while he was playing in the family room. When I took off his diaper he surprised me with a couple little "pellets" of poop, which he informed me were "just some little turds in there." Nice...

So I immediately put him in the tub and within minutes he says there are "turds" in the tub. I go and look and see a few teensy tiny things on the bottom of the tub. Gross. Tate is fascinated by them and keeps looking for them as I'm trying to hurry up and wash him off. When I'm done, he tells me he wants to get out of the tub so he can "see the turds go down there," as he points to the drain.

So he stands next to the tub as the water slowly drains, keeping his eyes fixed on the little brown specks. He is smiling ear to ear as he watches. And then he looks up at me and says, "I love turds." I kid you not. Those were his exact words. Ew.

Love to y'all,
Tracy

Highs and Lows

Today Brad and I went to the Opening Day Rangers Game with a bunch of friends. Despite the freezing temps, we had a great time, relaxing and hanging out. (It was like 40 degrees out... and that's about as cold as we can handle down here!!!) To top it off, the Rangers actually won 9 - 1!

We got home around 5 and I began tidying up and getting stuff ready for Tate's dinner. Brad ran out and grabbed the mail and came in with a bundle of envelopes like usual. He leaned against the counter and sighed as he read the contents of one of them...

It was Nash's autopsy report. After more than nine months, we finally got it in the mail as I requested. We already know the diagnosis, but for some reason I just feel like I need to have everything in this world that has his name on it. I have his entire file from his pediatrician's office and all the hospital records from when he was in Iowa. The autopsy report was the last thing on my list of things to get. I actually have called the hospital three times asking for it, but it hasn't been ready. After like 5 months of waiting, I finally got the courage up to call again last week and was told that it was still "pending." I was in tears with the woman on the phone, as she asked all the routine questions as she was looking it up...

"Name of deceased?" ... "Nash Sievers."

"Your relationship to him?" ... "His mother."

Like so many other times, I just kept thinking, "Who does this??? Who drives home from work and has to call some faraway hospital, asking for her son's autopsy report?" And then when the woman said it wasn't quite done, I felt sick because I knew that meant I would have to get the guts up to call again. So today when it came in the mail, I was a bit relieved to know I wouldn't have to do that. I guess that was one positive that came out of it.

But reading those three sheets of stapled paper just makes it all so final. It's all summed up; there in black and white. All these facts that only add up to one thing: my son is gone and he is never coming back. Blond hair... blue eyes... 25 inches long... 15.3 pounds... "... a well nourished, well-developed male infant appearing his stated age." It's all so official.

There are some things on it that I don't quite understand and when I get up enough energy, I will look up the uncertain terms like I did page by page on all the other records I have of Nash. I just have this need to know everything and read everything so that what happened to him makes some sort of sense to me. However, I'm learning that even as I understand more fully what happened, there are always more questions that arise... most of which won't be answered until Nash and I are face to face again, at the feet of God. But I have a feeling that in that moment, I won't need answers anymore.

As great as today began, it has had a tough ending. But I am grateful to now have this last report in my hands. I guess I can throw away the pink sticky note in the very front of my planner that read's "Auto. - Nash" ...That To Do List has now been completed.

I'm sorry if this was a little more than any of you wanted to read... but I feel like I needed to write about it. Sometimes the tears alone aren't enough to get it all out. Maybe now I will have some peace as I go to sleep tonight.

Love to y'all,

Tracy

An Answered Prayer

Soon after Nash died I remember saying that if I could just dream of him things would be a little easier because I'd "be with him" every night. Since July I've only dreamt of him twice that I can actually remember. And yet every night as I fall asleep I pray that God will bring Nash to me in my dreams...

Last night I dreamt of Nash. I don't remember much except that Brad, my mom and I were taking turns holding him. In the dream we knew that we only had a certain number of days left with him. We knew he'd be leaving soon. I remember I just kept staring at him and looking at him, trying to remember every part of him. I kept touching the back of his neck and playing with his hair. It wasn't really a sad dream - we were all so happy to be holding him. It's almost like how I imagine it would be if he came back for just a minute or two... very peaceful and quiet. Just holding him tightly and staring at his precious face - taking it all in.

I had mixed emotions when I woke up. I was so happy to have seen Nash and yet so sad that the dream had to end. This may have been why my emotions got the better of me many times today - especially this morning. I feel so thankful that I had this dream last night. And it couldn't have come at a more appropriate time... exactly one year ago today Nash was baptized... I have to believe that there's more to it than a simple coincidence.

People often ask what they can do for us and for me. I answer them by asking for prayers for comfort and peace. But maybe I could add another one to that list... pray for more dreams to come. Pray that I go to sleep at night and get to have a date with my little boy.

Sweet Dreams Y'all,
Tracy

A Present From Pa

Just a quick note... tonight on our way to our weekly Friday night dinner with my parents, my dad, Tate, and I stopped by a sporting goods store. Tate was quite thrilled to leave with two new helmits - one blue bike helmet and one shiny red batting helmet that he proudly wore around the entire store.

We've been home for almost three hours now and he still has the red one on his head. He's been riding his big wheel in circles all night and won't take it off. I did set it on the counter during bathtime, but only because I convinced him it would get ruined if it got wet. We just got him into bed and he STILL had it on while I was reading him some books. He asked if he could sleep with it...

Our solution.

Love to y'all,
Tracy

Kansas City

We got back last night from our weekend trip to Kansas City. Brad's sister and family live right outside KC and we were going to help celebrate our newest nephew's baptism. A lot of you know that this sweet little boy was born six days after Nash's birthday and his name is Colton Nash Miller.
Honestly speaking, I was very nervous to meet Colton... I feel a very special connection between he and I, but I was so afraid to actually see him, let alone hold him. However, as soon as we walked in the door of their house, I scooped him up and held him as close as I could get him. This first time was hard because the last time I really held a baby, he was cold and still in my arms. It was difficult to get that image from my mind. But the more I held Colton, the more natural it felt and the more I enjoyed it.

He is such a good baby and so beautiful. My favorite was changing his tiny diapers and holding him as he slept (which was a lot!). As much as I wish I were holding Nash, I was happy that I was physically able to hold a little boy and not completely break down. It may sound silly, but I wanted to be sure that I wasn't pretending that Colton was Nash. And I was proud of myself for accepting this and still enjoying my time with him.

Of course, there were things that were similar... just hearing those little coos and grunts of a new baby were reminiscent of our days with our sweet boy. Or watching him twitch or gurgle as he slept. He was wearing the same jammies that Nash had, which made a lot of memories come back. But through it all, I found myself happy to be connected to this new little miracle, while still holding my own little boy so closely in my heart.

Sunday was more difficult than I had anticipated it to be. The actual baptism service was very nice. But standing up there (we are his godparents) as they announced Colton's name made my heart wretch with pain. Just one year ago, everyone was down here celebrating Nash's baptism. I think the whole family had a very hard time that afternoon... Nash was on everyone's minds and hearts. And yet, I know that he was there with us, welcoming his cousin into his life as a child of God.

Brad, me, Eric, Colton, Jill, and Steven at the baptism.

The boys ringing the bell after church!

Tate had a wonderful time playing with Colton's two year old brother, Cade. They were connected at the hip and the very best of friends. Tate also was very aware of Colton and was thrilled to be able to hold him. I loved watching him interact with the baby, but it was very bittersweet as well. The first night we got to KC, we were all eating and Tate quietly walked over to Colton, who was lying on the floor. He laid down on his belly, looking down at him, watching him so intently. He later told his Uncle Steven, "I love Baby Colton. He's just like Baby Nash. I love Baby Nash too." I hate that my two year old has to miss his brother and that there is nothing I can do to fix that for him. My heart ached as I watched him with Colton.

Tate and Colton cuddling on the couch.

Tate covering Colton with his most prized possession... his blankie!

Tate watching his new cousin.

Tate and Cade pretending to sleep.

Best Buddies
Boys will be boys...

Tate, the bike rider!

Great Grandpa Sievers and the boys

Uncle Steven

Sweet Baby Colton

We are so blessed to have an amazing family. Our weekend trips always end way too soon. Eric, Jill, Cade, and sweet Colton: Thank you for a great weekend. We love you so much and can't wait to see you again this summer. Take care of each other.

Love to y'all,

Tracy

A Scary Weekend

I know that my life is anything but normal. I know that the path that I am traveling isn't one that most people ever lay foot on. I am well aware of the fact that I still have such a long way to go... there isn't an end to the pain; there will never be a day when things are "okay" again. However, there are minutes (and sometimes hours) that go by when I'm doing reasonably well.

Friday evening was one of them... Tate and I were outside, waiting for Brad to get home from work so that we could all go to our friends' house for our very first Crawfish Boil! It was 5:30 and my phone rang. My mom's voice was strained on the other end of the line. She simply said, "I'm going to Chicago tonight. Your brother was hit by a car." WHAT??? I just kept thinking, "He doesn't have a car, so what do you mean he was hit by a car?" Then my heart sank as I understood what that meant. All my mom knew was that he was conscious and in the back of an ambulance, heading to a downtown Chicago hospital.

I literally sank to the grass as I hung up the phone. Flashbacks of eight months ago went screaming through my mind. I know exactly what it feels like to get on a plane and race to your child, praying that everything will be okay. And I also know the gripping terror inside when you realize that your baby isn't going to make it. All of this came rushing back as I got to my knees and pleaded with God to help my brother be strong.

Trent was taken to the Trauma Center of the hospital and after CAT scans, X-rays, and numerous exams, we found out he suffered a concussion, received six stitches in the back of his head, had a broken right collar bone, a separated left shoulder, and lots of large scrapes and bruises. So despite the pain and long road to recovery, we are PRAISING God for these injuries. We know too well that things could have been a lot worse.

We have since found out that my brother, Trent, age 24, was riding his bicycle back from work to meet his girlfriend. He was crossing a four-way stop (he had the right of way). A car stopped and then continued through the intersection without seeing my brother and he was hit.

I have talked to Trent since the accident and it was such a relief to hear his voice. I adore my brother and am so thankful for him. I know that it will take a long time for his pain to subside, but I have faith that God will keep him strong and carry him through his toughest days.

I appreciate all the prayers being sent Trent's way. And I'm so grateful for the way my friends have surrounded me with love since they've heard of the accident. I love you all. Now go call your siblings and tell them you love them!

Love to y'all,
Tracy