spirit of a storm

sunday mornings i
attend yoga at 10 am.
it is an open level class.
this means that is challenges me.
really challenges me.

it is taught by erica.
she taught my new to yoga series
and is well awesome.

she is an english teacher in her day job.
i connect with her teaching style.
its full of stories, quirkiness and lessons.

so sunday morning yoga is more than yoga.

this time of year is hard.
as much as i love fall,
it is hard for me.
the storms build
and i find myself trying to
manage them in various ways.

some days i am able weather them.
some days they get the best of me.
and some days the sun shines brightly.

they are part of who i am.
they are a part of my story.
they are the fabric of my life.

it stormed like crazy yesterday
which seemed to match my mood.
yoga was all about storms, breathing
through them and not being alone in the storm.

thank you sweet friend
for giving me a new place
to weather the storm.

cooper's flock update

today i dropped
the last batch of
cooper's birds at the hospital.

can you believe it?

it was hard.
to be in that space.
the memories came
rushing back.

it was hard to
randomly run into
cooper's surgeon.
(even though i had a premonition that i was going to see him today)
i have not seen him
since we met to go over the autopsy.

over 400 birds
have been given to
families on surgery day
for the past 2.5 years.

thank you to all who contributed to the flock.

cooper has been on my mind.
i miss him terribly today.
i have mixed emotions
about no longer having a box
of birds in my basement.

i knew this day would come
that the birds would not reproduce
in my basement.
but i kind of wish they did.

they have brought
comfort to families on a
very difficult day.

the families do not know
me or my story.
simply, that someone who has been
in their shoes is thinking about them.

jen and i were talking
today about what the
next move is for cooper's flock.
i am torn.

what do you think?

if you want
to create birds, i will love
you for it.
if you do not want to,
i will still love you.

you decide.

playground

on some level
i knew it would happen.
it was inevitable.
but i was unprepared
to hear a mother say
to her son
"dont climb up the slide, cooper."

i took a deep breath.
i did a double take.
and my heart broke, again.

do you wonder?

i can not believe that
two years ago today
we had our sweet cooper's memorial service.

yesterday, ph, chace and i spent
the morning at the arboretum
walking around, reflecting and tending to his garden.

the trees look much different
without all the handmade birds
full of love and hope and healing.

birds made by strangers
who wanted to help
heal the heart of a grieving mama

and bring comfort to little hearts
which need mending
and the families who love them so.

the children's hospital continues
to give cooper birds to each family
the day of their child's heart surgery.

they do not know who made the birds
they do not know our story
what they do know
is that someone is thinking of them
and their child during a most difficult time.

i still have a box of about 100 birds
in my basement.
we will continue to give out birds
until the box is empty.

i am not sure what
will happen after that.
perhaps i will make a plea
for more birds.

i will cross that bridge
when we get there.
for now i am just remembering
our sweet cooper, his short life
and all those birds in the trees.

dueling emotions

it was around 1:30 am wednesday morning when i awoke to the sound of chace. he was not crying. he was not readjusting. he was not babbling. he was calling for me. "mama! mama!" came over the monitor. there was no mistaking who he wanted or what he was saying.  hearing my sweet chace call out for me, caused me to jump out of bed. all he wanted was for me to find his pacifier. he went right back to sleep. it took me a little while to drift off to sleep because i was filled with such joy that he had said the one word i have longed to hear since the day he was born. he has been saying "mama" over and over and over, ever since. in fact the only time he will voluntarily give up his pacifier is to eat or to say "mama."

fast forward

last night, i was putting my socks in the dirty clothes hamper when i saw cooper's box sitting in the closet. his box of things as well as his ashes, have been in our closet for some time. i know that is where it lives. but there was something about it that set me off. before i or ph knew what happened i was sobbing uncontrollably. my heart hurt so much. i kept saying in between sobs " he is in the closet." and "i never got to hear him say mama." i cried so hard that my chest hurt, not from grief but from crying.

yesterday was a day of dueling emotions. grief, sadness, and heartache dueling it out with happiness, elation and joy. i kept trying to make sense of it last night while trying to fall asleep. and the only thing that i could come up with is that it is ok to have both emotions. that those emotions are not a betrayal of either one of my sons. and that learning to live with them both and accepting them for what they are is healing.

so duel away emotions... duel away......

today

today was hard.
i am pretty sure that this day
will always be hard.
time does not make it
easier or better or less painful.

the images of that day
have not dulled with time.
i can remember the details
and i wish they would fade
just a little.

the way he felt
and looked
and smelled.
it is all there in my mind.
i can go back there in an instant.

today we went to his garden.
as a family.
even the dogs.
we needed to be there
to remember.
to feel
to love.

the only thing you
could see
was his plaque poking
out through the snow.
making his absence
known to all.

today was hard.
it will always be hard.
but i will always make
it through the day.
it is what he would want.

i miss you cooper.
and
i love you forever
and
ever
and
always.

heavy heart

i was going to tell you about the show today, give you a sneak peak. but there is something more pressing. the sneak peak can wait.
 __________________________________________________________________________________

dr and mrs j,

i don't really know you.
we have met once.
but i know about you
through my parents.

i know your pain.
how your heart
is broken into a million pieces.

i know the feeling
of not being able to breathe
because the pain
is too much to bear.

you wonder how you go on,
how you put one foot in
front of the other.

you wonder if your heart
will ever mend.
if life will ever be the same.

you think for a brief moment
that it would be easier
if you could go in a hole
and never come out.

that there is no way that
you can continue to live
with this pain,
this broken heart.

i know all of this.

but i am here to tell you.
that you while your heart
will never be the same.
you will find joy again.

you never get over
losing your child.
it leaves a hole
in your heart
that is incapable of closing.

but it will mend.

people will say
the most awful things,
because they don't know
what to say.
you are living
their worst nightmare.

but you will continue
to live.

grief comes in waves.
at inconvenient times,
in the most public places.
and when you think you
can not take it anymore
you will be able to breathe.

and you will find peace.

the road ahead of you
is not easy.
it is difficult and it is long.
and i am pretty sure
it lasts a lifetime.

but with the support
of family and friends
and most importantly
each other
your heart can mend.

i am so sorry
you are on this journey.
my heart aches for you.
i am here if you need
anything.

and i know that my cooper
has found your son
and that they are watching over
our families.

sending you love and peace

xoxo

storm clouds

they are slowly building.
getting bigger
and heavier.
weighing on my chest.
causing my heart to ache.

the only release i know
is to give in to the pain.
to feel it.
to cry.
to mourn.

it doesn't get easier.
time does not heal.

i suppose
this will happen
every year.
wanting to get from
now till christmas.

because that means
i will have made it
through
his birthday
and the anniversary
of his death.

i used to love
the time between
thanksgiving
and
christmas.
now i dread it.

those around me
make thanksgiving plans.
i want no part of it.
i want to be in my house
with ph, and chace
together as a family.

not putting on a brave face
as if it never happened.
as if the pain as gone.
as if life is normal.

there is happiness.
there is laughter.
there is love.
there is chace.

but my heart
is still broken.
and the storm clouds
are building.

i am

TIRED..... and i am not talking about the kind of tired that comes from lack of sleep.

i am emotionally exhausted. i am spent, the tank is on empty.

i am tired of grieving and mourning cooper. i am ready to be done. ready to put it on a shelf. save it for a rainy day or when i want to deal with those emotions. i remember when R looked at me and said that year 2 is often harder for parents than year 1. i thought he was crazy. well, he may have a point.

i have been missing cooper lately and let me tell you, it is a delicate dance i do between mourning him and being excited over chace. a constant ebb and flow of emotions, of wear and tear on my heart. you see while chace has helped to mend my heart, to give me purpose and make us a family, the scar on my heart has reopened. chace looks so much like cooper, that his death is tangible once again, not some series of events recorded in my head. i am constantly reminded of what i lost. and with that reminder comes a fear that i will be forced to endure another loss. its easy for my mind to go there, because i know what that road is like, fortunately i have the ability to stop myself. but this is hard, especially when you are sleep deprived.

the perception i have is that people (family, friends and acquaintances) think that i am better, now that chace is here. that i have somehow moved on from losing cooper. this does not happen. losing a child is not something one gets over, like a cold. someone asked my mom about us having another child. my mom replied, that she didn't think we would have any more. and the response was i never thought of lucinda only having one child. if i had been a part of that conversation, i would have reminded them that i have two children, one of them is no longer alive, but i have two. i know i cant worry about other people and what they think, but i want those who know me, friends and family alike, to acknowledge that i am still grieving, that my heart still hurts, that i miss cooper terribly and to be patient with me. and don't be offended if i don't let you hold chace, i still feel very protective of my little bean.

yes, i am over the moon about chace. he is perfect. i love him more that i can express. there is not a baby who is more loved or wanted then him. no, i will not be in this emotional place forever. it is part of the healing journey, part of the process and i need to work through it.

this day

for some reason, this morning i went into the lucends archives and reread what i wrote in the month of february. i wrote this, on this day last year.

it was hard to read. the pain and sadness we were feeling was palpable. heart ache seeped off every word. those were dark days. i thought that the pain would never subside. i cried most days, and despite being surround by the sun, sand and sea i was very wounded.

i can remember asking precious husband over and over "promise me we will have another baby." i knew even then that another baby would not replace the loss of cooper, nor would it heal my heart or take away the pain. but i needed hope, a reason to put one foot in front of the other.

little did i know at the time i wrote that post, that we would be 2 weeks (or less) away from having a baby, a little brother for cooper. its hard for me to believe sometimes, all that has transpired over the last year or so, the journey i have been on. cooper has been on my mind alot lately, and i feel him watching over us. as i have said many times, the hole that is left in your heart after losing a child, does not completely heal but it does mend.

i cant tell you how excited i am to meet cooper's little brother.

10:21 am

time of of death was 10:21 am on december 18, 2008.

it is also the exact time that my heart shattered into a million pieces, our lives forever changed and we became part of a club where membership is not sought.

cooper's death was unexpected and caught every one of guard, including the cardiac team. but there was part of me that knew, knew he would only be on earth for a short time. i don't know how i knew, call it a mother's intuition, or a gut feeling.

everything after 10:21 am was a blur, yet i remember every single detail of the events as the unfolded. i was numb. i didn't know i could experience hurt so deep and so raw. i didn't know how i was going to put one foot in front of the other, or how i was going to find joy again. hell, all i wanted to do was crawl in a deep dark hole and never ever come out.

but here i am a year later and this is what i know:

** my heart has mended, but will never heal completely. it will always be scarred.

** the ache is still there, but it's not constant. it ebbs and flows, a characteristic of grief.

**losing cooper has become a part of who i am, but his loss does not define me.

** moving through grief is a choice i make every single day. i had two choices, let it cripple me for the rest of my life or do the hard work to heal. i chose the latter.

** even though cooper is not here, i have a relationship with him that is real and it is strong. i feel his presence daily.

** my relationship with my precious husband is stronger than ever. i love him more than i thought possible. it is his love that saves me every single day.

** i am thankful for my dear friends and family that have allowed me to feel whatever i needed to feel, whenever i needed to feel it. this played a critical role in my healing.

** the kindness and support of strangers continues to amaze me, whether through creating cooper birds, reading the words i write or leaving words of encouragement. i cherish it all.

** that the ultimate way to honor cooper is to continue to live, find joy, treasure the little things and give him a little brother to watch over.

and finally, i will be a better mother, wife, friend and daughter because of the love i have for cooper.

a year ago

december 17, 2008:

we awoke to a landscape covered with snow, so pristine and clean. was it a sign of what was to come? nature's way of cleansing before the ugliness sets in....

at the time we saw it as an inconvenience, knowing that the drive into the hospital during rush hour would take longer, adding strain to our already frazzled nerves. there was some humor on the drive in, the trunk of car wouldn't close, so we drove all the way to the hospital with it open. snow blowing inside and people trying to tell us it was open. i remember my mom saying "if this is the worst thing that happens today, its ok." of course the trunk closed and latched as soon as we arrived at the hospital.

somehow, we made it to the hospital close to the appointed time, dr a., the surgeon, was not so lucky. he was about two hours late. so we waited, and i tried not to think about the fact that my 3 week old baby was about to have open heart surgery. cooper was hungry and cranky. i let my mom hold him. i still feel guilty because i didn't hold every minute before surgery. i know there was no way to know what lay ahead and letting others help doesn't make me a bad mother, but i still feel guilty.

after they took him away. i fell apart. i was terrified that something bad was going to happen, but i was also hopeful. hopeful that dr a and his team would repair the hole in cooper's heart, giving him a full chance at life. the waiting was agonizing, we watched tv, sent emails, read, knit and tried not to think about the what ifs..... there was one point, about half way through the surgery, that my heart started racing and i felt sick to my stomach. in hindsight, i am sure it was the moment that they made the decision that the repair was not enough and they needed to put in a shunt in cooper's left ventricle.

after 6 hours of waiting and nail biting, the doctors came into tell us that cooper would be in the picu soon and that we would be able to see him. we saw him briefly as they wheeled him by, my sweet little baby all puffy and with tubes, but he was alive and doing well. once they got him settled they would let us see him. dr a came and talked to us. he admitted that the surgery was more complicated than he had hoped, but that cooper had responded brilliantly.

when we saw cooper. i cried. it broke my heart to see him like that, but i was also so relieved that he had made it through surgery. they left his chest open, so there was this piece of second skin covering his little heart. you could see his heart beating, such a welcome sight.

that night before we went to bed, i told my precious husband, " i thought i would never see him alive again, that i was so relieved." i slept with coopers' fleece sleeper that night because it smelled like him and i needed to be close to him.

december 17, 2009:

it is a winter wonderland once again. the first real snow we have had this year. i am sure it is cooper's way of trying to ease the ache in my heart and letting me know he is watching over us and the bean.

even though, my heart feels like it breaking all over again, i am hopeful.

ashes to ashes

the week of thanksgiving i received a box in the mail from marta. she was returning all the items i sent her for cooper's book. i sent her a plethora of cards, emails, poems and pictures. but this was only about half of what we received in those weeks after coopers death. my precious husband and i went through all the cards and decided which ones we wanted to include in the book. those we chose all had special meaning to us for a variety of reasons.

at the time i did not throw away the ones that were not included, i put them back in the box i was keeping them in and returned it to the shelf, which is where they have remained. the question was what to do with all the stuff? one of the reasons we created the book was to have everything in one place and not have to have a box of sadness around. i wasn't comfortable with throwing them in the trash. and shredding them was too much work. so, the next logical thing that came to mind was to burn them.

which is exactly what we did sunday night. we burned probably 200 cards in our chimena in the back yard. it was cathartic. it felt good to watch the paper catch fire and turn to ash. it felt good not to have this box of sadness sitting in the closet. it felt like closure. and it felt like a weight was lifted.

the metal box is still in the closet, with coopers name on it, but it is filled with all the cards and notes i received with each member of cooper's flock that arrived on my doorstep. reminders of the love and support we have received. of the kindness of strangers. of sweet coopers legacy. and of how he has touched the lives of so many.

the gift of sight

it was merely hours after cooper died, when i received the phone call from the rochester eye and tissue bank. as soon as the woman identified where she was from my heart sank and i knew why she was calling. she wanted to know if we would consider donating coopers eyes. i told her that i had to consult with my husband and could she give us a few hours. she agreed.

when i hung up the phone i was flooded with emotion. the emotional side of me, the grieving mother side wanted to scream at her that i had just lost my 3 week old son and how dare she call and ask for a part of him. i felt like the vultures were circling, just waiting to pick my precious cooper apart and it was my job to protect him. then there was the logical side, the side that grew up in a medical family and understood the time sensitive nature of harvesting organs. on some level i recognized that she was simply doing her job, a very difficult job. and finally, by agreeing to donate coopers eyes, his death became permanent and final. now, i knew this, but i was still trying to process the events of the morning. i wasn't ready to let cooper go, and giving his eyes to another child seemed at the time like i was letting him go too easily.

it took me several minutes to reign in my emotions enough to articulate the nature of the phone call. once i told my precious husband who was on the other end of the phone, what i thought would be a difficult choice was easy. we both knew that giving the gift of sight to potentially two other children was the right thing to do, there was no other choice. we had the ability to drastically change the lives of two other small children, and even though we were heartbroken over coopers death, we knew we had to help those who needed it. and cooper is able to live on and see the world which brings me some peace.

we found out that coopers corneas were given to a child in guatemala and a child in syria. most likely these children would not have been able to see if it weren't for cooper's death. newborn corneas are difficult to come by, so i believe with all my heart that these two children will have a much richer life because of cooper.

i have wondered about these two small lives and how they are doing, but for the most part coopers gift of sight has been filed away in my brain until today. i received a letter, or rather an invitation from the rochester eye and tissue bank in the mail inviting us to a program honoring all donors and their families. and suddenly i was reliving december 18th all over again.

i don't think that we will attend the dinner, it would just be too difficult and emotional. but there was information about donor family quilts, created to honor loved ones that travel around the country. maybe i will make a square for cooper, yet one more way for him to see the world and for his mama to honor her sweet boy.

counting

i have spent alot of time this past year counting, specifically the days and weeks since cooper was born and when he died. every 4 weeks, there is a heart on my calender marking the day he died, and his next months birthday is always the thursday after he died. it was important for me to honor the exact number of days and weeks, rather than the dates he was born, the 27th and died, the 18th.

but something happened this month and my system of counting changed. i am not sure why. i was aware of the heart on the calender, and the subsequent 9 month birthday, but for some reason it didn't feel right, like i needed to start honoring the actual dates. i have learned through this journey to trust my instinct, it is usually right. so i didn't beat myself up over it, but i have thought alot about it. i decided that for whatever reason, i no longer needed to know exactly how many weeks it has been, that i was ready to count by the dates of the events. so this month cooper's 9 month letter will fall on the 27th, honoring the actaul date he was born.

yet another sign that i am healing ever so slightly.

family history

we called by paternal grandmother, mawmaw. she had the whitest hair, liked to sit outside and watch the world around her, loved college football and always had a glass of milk punch.

mawmaw passed away when i was a freshman in college. and over the last 18 years my relationship with her has taken a different turn. what i mean is that in the years since she has been gone, i dream about her. these dreams are so vivid and real and when i wake i can recall every little detail. i often have to tell myself, that it was just a dream, she isn't alive anymore. and more often than not, she appears when i am struggling with life or facing some difficult decision. the challenge then becomes what is she trying to tell me?

since cooper died, i have only dreamt about her once and this bothers me. because it is now that i could use her guidance and strength. but i think it is too painful, too close to home for her to try to bring me comfort, so that is why she stays away. you see, my beloved grandmother knows this journey i am on too well. her first daughter, the one i am named after, was diagnosed with leukemia at the age of 5 and died shortly there after. what i know about my name sake is sketchy at best, based mostly on anecdotal stories that my father has told me over the years. the way his family dealt with her death is nothing like the way my precious husband and i are processing the loss of cooper. my grandparents locked their grief up in a box and put it on the shelf. they took down pictures, packed away her things and never spoke of her. my grandfather even changed his birthday because that was the day she died. the way they processed their grief had consequences on the family dynamic that are still present today.

my grandparents adopted a girl, marion,who i now recognize as the replacement baby. she was never good enough and could never live up to her older sister. she made poor choice after poor choice, and i am quite certain it was because she felt as if she didn't belong. and then my aunt molly came along and i believe she was the grace and healing that my grandmother had been searching for since lucinda's death. molly was 16 when i was born and she and i have always been very close. my parents often say that my behavior and mannerisms are so much like hers,that we could be sisters instead of aunt and niece.

in the weeks after cooper died my precious husband and i spent a lot of time talking about my family history and how the death of lucinda changed my family forever. i knew that, for us, we needed to grieve in a different way. and we have worked very hard to do just that, to live in the present no matter how difficult it may be and to embrace our grief, rather than locking it away in a box. for me, this was the only way to survive, if i would have followed my grandparents path, i am certain the pain would have been to much for me to bear.

i have been thinking alot about my grandmother lately, and how i wish that she were alive, i have so many questions to ask her. my mother recently told me that mawmaw was upset that they named me lucinda, i guess she was superstitious. i wonder if it was hard for her to call me by name? did she see "her" lucinda every time she looked at me? did her heart break every time she heard my name? i have never seen a picture of my namesake, and while i look just like my mother, i do have some features that don't resemble my mother or my father. do i look like her?

i wonder if my grandmother some how knew the heartache that comes with losing a child would be my path? did she think that by naming me something else that she could have prevented me from knowing this kind of loss? and what does this mean for my future children and their children? will they follow in my footsteps on this path of heartbreak and loss?

i wonder if mawmaw always loved hummingbirds or was it lucinda's death that caused her to watch them so faithfully out the kitchen window? did lucinda visit the hummingbird feeder, the way coopers visits the lavender in the afternoon?

i wonder if she would tell me what she would have done differently in those weeks, months and years after lucinda died? does she have regrets on how she dealt with her loss? what would she say about how i am processing and moving through coopers death? would she disagree or would she be proud of the work we have done?

i have so many questions for her. oh, how i wish she would visit me, just to let me know that she is there, watching me on this journey. there are so many things about that time in her life that i will never know. but there are a few things that i do know, that she loved me firecely, that she was waiting for cooper with open arms, and that she will watch over him as if he were her own until i see him again.

on this thursday

thursdays are odd days, a mix of joy and sadness. cooper's birth and death occurred on thursdays.

in the months after cooper died i realized just how many babies are born with heart defects, thanks to the world of blogging. at first i read every babies' story, but i soon realized that this was counterproductive and did not help me with my own grief. it kept me in a constant state of tears and made me angry that some of these children had much more complicated heart issues than cooper, and they were alive and he was gone. but then i realized that every heart case is different and comparing them all to cooper was torturing myself. so i stopped reading.

but there is one blog that i periodically check in on from time to time. and this week i learned that baby stellan is literally fighting for his life (see his button on my sidebar). my heart aches for this baby, his parents, siblings and all who love him. i admire their strength, courage and faith in the midst of a very terrifying and difficult situation.

so, on this thursday, i am thinking of cooper, but i am also thinking about baby stellan and his family. and i know that cooper is watching over him. i would love to send them a cooper bird, but have no idea where to send it.......

plans

i can vividly remember asking jen, the cardiac social worker, "what do i do with coopers room?" before we left the hospital the day he died. her response was "everyone deals with it differently, you will know what to do when the time is right." i have spent alot of time planning how i would deal with his room, when the time came, but despite all my planning, i have not been able to put that plan into action.

about a month ago it hit me while i was getting ready for bed. my inability to put the plan into action was preventing me from getting pregnant. i had gotten through those first weeks, the memorial service, the autopsy, going to the hospital for the first time, dropping off coopers flock, and a million other difficult moments that make up this journey of grief. this was the one obstacle i had not tackled. after that thought hit me, i broached the subject with my grief counselor. he understands just HOW much i think about things and i walked him through my thought process. i even went so far as to buy a box for the things of coopers that i wanted to keep. but every time i made a date with myself to start, i was unable. i would just sit on the floor in his room, sometimes i would cry and other times i just sat there immobilized by the enormity of the task. at first i was hard on myself, but then decided i would know when the time was right and maybe i shouldn't put pressure on myself, the plan wasn't going anywhere, it could wait until i was ready.

fast forward to saturday. it was a bad day, the kind i hadn't had in weeks. it was one of those days that the pain was just too much and for whatever reason the wound was so open and raw. i missed cooper desperately and my heart ached to hold him and see his sweet little face. i was restless and spent most of the day in tears. for some reason i went into cooper's room and sat on the floor. i began looking at all this tiny clothes, smelling the ones he wore hoping for a glimpse of him, examining the sweaters i knit and reading the books i so painstakingly picked out for him at the bookstore. during that time, i calmed down and was able to find the peace i was looking for earlier. and without even realizing it, i began to make piles. piles of things i wanted to keep, things i wanted to donate and things i didn't know what to do with. i must have spent 2 hours in his room, just being with his stuff and feeling closer to him.

i didn't get very far and there are still piles all over the floor, but it was a start. and as far as plans go, well the sometimes the best plan is not having one.

moving forward

in the days immediately following cooper's death, people set about removing items that might remind me of cooper. i don't mean to say that they got rid of things, or touched the nursery, they simply removed them from my sight. it was usually done when i was in my room, in the shower or out of the house, small silent gestures of love and support. i was aware that the bottles were no longer in the kitchen or that the hammock that cooper loved was not in the living room, but i wasn't really aware of where they were or when they were moved. it was upon our return from our 3 week getaway in february that i realized that all the little signs of cooper were simply moved to the basement.

when we walked down the basement stairs we realized that you couldn't see the basement floor, so we spent some time organizing things. there were more boxes in the basement than i cared to count, thanks to the holidays. after breaking down boxes, filling garbage bags of packing peanuts and throwing wrapping paper out, order was restored. one side of the basement now holds all things baby. many of the items cooper never got to use and are still in boxes. the baby bjorn, the highchair, his ultra hip barkalounger that he was too small for, the car seat and car seat bases, the stroller, activity mats, the pack and play and boxes and boxes of formula. many of these things we will use again, but the formula has an expiration date. i was holding on to it in hope that we would be able to use it, but since we have not gotten pregnant yet, we will not be able to use the formula.

enter wonderful martha. a friend who volunteered to pick up the formula and deliver it to wilson commencement park, an organization that provides resources and services to low income families and children. today was the appointed day. and it was so much harder to let go of that formula than i expected. is it because of what it represents? nourishment for the baby that i no longer have? or is it a sign of letting go? moving forward? or is it that i feel guilty about giving away something that was cooper's? i know that this gesture will help many families and babies, another way in which cooper lives on and how he continues to touch others lives. but letting go of those boxes makes my heart ache for cooper.

coopers memorial service 1.0

i have been struggling to find the best way to share the weekend with you, dear readers. and after much thought, several posts or chapters, seems to make the most sense. many of you learned about my sweet family and our cooper by knitting birds, so i thought i would begin with coopers flock. when i embarked on this journey through the blogosphere, it was my hope to have 100 birds for coopers service. well, i had 300 members of coopers flock the day of his service ( i have received more birds since then for a total of 324 to date), 100 birds for each week of coopers precious life. seeing all those birds in the trees was simply breathtaking. your efforts have helped to heal my heart and will bring so much comfort to children and their families during a very stressful time. what an amazing legacy YOU all helped me create for cooper. i am truly honored and blessed. THANK YOU.

these are some of the photos. i am expecting more in the next few days. and if you want to see more from the service, you may go here