Saturday, December 29, 2012

Time to kiss goodbye: 2012


I've been waiting for 2012 to be over soon since about...April?

This has been officially the most difficult year of my life, but now with only a few days left before it's over, I'm getting a "Pang" in the stomach. Because I'm weird like that. Somehow it seems that with the new year I should start moving on, but I have a hard time now letting go of the year of my son, and I fear that as time goes by his memory will start fading.




In a quick review, We met our baby,
We fought alongside with him. We bonded.
We gave him baths and listened to music.
We buried our son and gained an angel.

We cried, we fell, but we were never alone.
We had people to walk alongside with us.
We learned that after despair, hope and healing comes,


 We rode and released balloons,
We prayed for others and for us.




We lit candles and sought light.
We prayed for peace and healing,
We remembered.

Our bodies took a hit. David had back surgery.
Our house flooded. We remodeled,
We rebuilt, We got busy.We fixed it.


We went to Sedona, Dallas and Washington DC...


If you are still reading, you probably are feeling somewhat exhausted. I am. Actually exhausted is an understatement; but we're still here, together. We miss Zach every day but we pulled trough. I don't want to make a whole lot of resolutions this year that will fall trough the cracks. My only plan now is to continue healing, to learn to trust life again, and believe that good things are yet to come.

On that note, I wish you if not a Happy 2013 at least a boring one, because believe it or not, sometimes boring is good!

Thank you for reading, thank you for caring. 









































Time for Family: Christmas 2012



 This is a little delayed Christmas post. I have been away form the computer for a while... in fact we have been away for a while since we decided to spend this season visiting our families out of town.

As the first Christmas without our son, I was anticipating deep grief; so we decided that it was better to be close to our family, the ones that just like us had a very hard year and also experienced our loss. We got to visit David's family in Dallas for a couple of days, and then we headed to Washington DC, to take the cold weather and to surprise my mom and dad, that had no idea that we were going.

We needed to create new memories, and it was amazing to see their faces when we just "showed up" when they were least expecting it. Truly priceless!

With the cold weather we didn't do a whole lot of outdoor sight seeing; we visited a couple of museums and did some last minute shopping and some nice dinning, but really the main focus of this trip was to relax and spend time together. My sister Olgui and I were pregnant at the same time... she had a lovely and healthy strong boy that we now adore and call "Maxito" as if Max wasn't lovely enough...

To be honest, meeting him in person was difficult since he is just a month younger than Zach... but that's another post.  It was lovely and joyful to be around him, since he made me feel like we had known each other forever. Maxito is all cuddles and smiles! He also has brought a lot of happiness and healing for our family, and I know that my boy will always watch over him to protect him.

This Christmas season has been overall bittersweet: My angel is not with us, children are getting shot at schools, families are still spending this time in the NICU, or PICU and this is now a reality that hits home too close, the idea that we could have been one of this families is really not a too far stretch of the imagination. But somehow God has different plans, we got to travel, to enjoy our family and to feel "home". We have a whole new level of gratitude for that.

I'm sorry that I wasn't too much on the season spirit this year, but I guess that it's OK. If you have joined our journey, and are still caring, following and even praying for us, I don't have enough words to thank you enough. From the bottom of our hearts, we wish you a wonderful "Late Christmas and a Happy New Year"




Best Sushi that we've had in a long time,
celebrating our parent's 45th year anniversary. 

It's always so good to see my mom and dad!
Love you guys!

Making fun of my sister as she multitasks
and does some last minute shopping. 


Our Dear and Lovely "Maxito" oppening
presents on his first  Christmass.
Note: He pushed the presents aside
and kept playing with the gift wrap paper...


Dear hubby David, spending some
quality time with my niece Lucia. He is one amazing uncle. 


Dear Lucia, giving his daddy a present. Lovely!









Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Time for 11 months, 11 things, 11 Everywhere...


Photo Image from "Katie the Scrapbook Lady" at
http://www.scrapbookladypages.com/, great site BTW.

I am not a superstitious person, nor is my husband. I've been reading quite a bit about the grieving journey and it seems that grief does make your senses more acute. The sun somehow shines with more intensity, the wind wraps you around like a blanket,  that butterfly or snail that I would have stepped on not too long ago... are now "signs" that my son is watching over us and sending us a reminder. Who knows?

Even before we met our boy, David and I would look at the time randomly and it would be 3:11, 5:11, 6:11... something 11. My husband jokingly quickly pointed how "random" that was, but the elevens kept coming every time that we looked at the clock randomly. We decided our boy's name on 09/11, and the day came and we met our son 01/11.

We have voice mails and blog posts left or published at guess what time... Yes, something 11. This number shows up everywhere: License plates, loose change, addresses, you name it. I still look at the time randomly and is still 8:11, 9:11...You get the pattern,  and I like to believe that for that little time frame, my son is here checking on us. David and I agreed to believe that, whether or not is truth, during that minute we say our son's name out loud, we talk to him, tell him how much we love him and how much we miss him. Sometimes I cry and ask him for forgiveness, for the times that I doubted him, the times that I was scared, or selfish even. Now I hope that the 11th minute doesn't catch me doing something too embarrassing (like a toilet moment)...or angry; is a reminder trough out  the day to focus on the larger picture, to keep my eyes on the prize, and to act as if my son was watching at all times, it keeps me in check and puts me back on track.

Today, you would have been 11 months. I decided to forget what are the 11 month old's supposed to be doing, but still, part of this stubborn brain keeps track of other children around your age. As ashamed I may be to admit, this hard head of mine is still comparing and is still trying to at least understand how when you see this kiddos you can feel  pain and joy at the same time. I still keep track of time, yours and mine. You would think that time will makes things easier, but it doesn't. I will always miss you and whisper your name on the 11th minute of any given hour until I die.

All I can do now, is enjoy the short sweet minute that you check on us.Our sweet secret code:
You lived, you mattered, your life had meaning and purpose, and we will always REMEMBER you.

I know that even if you were here, probably we would have been in a very different place than with any other 11 months old, and that kind of grief would have stayed, regardless. Today, in your honor, I will celebrate and miss the Zach that I indeed had: The one with the chubby cheeks, with the crooked finger and the little clubbed feet that we learned to love. I will miss YOU, not the child that never existed, but my sweet Zachary Owen, the one that changed our lives for good.

Happy 11 months son, I will meet you at the 11th minute of any given hour.





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Photo Image from "Katie the Scrapbook Lady" at
http://www.scrapbookladypages.com/, great site BTW.



Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Cuando, Cuando, Cuando?


When will the hand catch up with 
the speed and randomness of the mind?

When is that this familiar chains of
grief and sadness will break?

When will despair fade into acceptance
and judgement will welcome grace?

When will this numbness stop, 
and courage will rise to speak up, 
or scream... or both?

When will fear become daring enough
to dream again and jump into 
trust instead of control? 

When will the healing come, and
brokenness be whole, 
When is that my eyes will meet
again yours?




Found this picture of my old
acrylic paintings, when  will I have TIME to paint again?



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