Some Firsts Are Harder Than Others

There is something particularly special, and difficult, about this Fall.

Special in that it marks five years that my heart has beat for my sweet little Peyton, loving her as I do even though she is not here. Difficult in that this year should have held such a magical milestone.

Grief is so strange. There are so many firsts we never had with Peyton. No first steps. No first words, or even first tantrums. No first rides on a bike, or first "I love you Mommy," moments, though her heart beating against my chest when I held her told me she did. 

There were so many firsts that should have been with Peyton that at some point in my grief I almost, *almost, became numb to them. I think that's what so-called healing is, your mind and body deciding to either numb-up, or give up.

I posted this photo on Facebook today, with the following message:

In another life on the other side of the loss universe, I gave you a hug and sent you off to Kindergarten this week.

I imagine that had she been born healthy, I would have had so much trepedation and so many nerves about leaving my child in the care of someone else for the first time. The reality is that from the moment of her birth, to the moment of her death, Peyton was always in the care of someone else, down to my inability to even make decisions over when to feed or bathe her. 

If Peyton were here, and healthy, this would be the moment in time for me to watch as my little girl became a big girl, and root her on as she walked off independent of me, into a new experience. Because of the cards we were dealt, that moment came in the pediatric intensive care unit as I urged her to please let go and be free of the pain of this broken world, when she took her last breath in my arms and was finally, finally, pain-free and at peace.

Even five years later, you never get over a moment like that. I imagine that in fifty years, I still won't.

I received so many beautiful messages from friends, but one response to my facebook post by a dear babyloss momma friend especially resonated with me: 

Perhaps in that other life somewhere our little ones enter kindergarten together, holding hands and filling the room with joy.

So tonight I am holding tight to the beauty of that image, to the thought of all of the precious and much loved little ones from this community holding hands as they walk into their first day in kindergarten, and all the while I am hoping that wherever Peyton is, she knows how very, very loved she is by those of us left behind.

Birthday Bucks, and Band-Aids

Hi all. This September 4th marks five years since our sweet tiny warrior Peyton’s birth. It’s hard to imagine how different life would be if we had our little girl here, preparing for Kindergarten.

To honor what would have been Peyton’s 5th Birthday (9/4) and the 5th Anniversary of her passing (10/2), we are once again Doing Good in Her Name.

We are super excited to announce that Doing Good in Her Name has teamed up this year with the Kacey Rose Foundation, an amazing non-profit formed in the memory of Kacey Rose Mitchell, that provides assistance to families affected by childhood cancer.

This year’s drive is called: BIRTHDAY BUCKS AND BAND-AIDS

Why Band-Aids?

We are collecting boxes of LATEX FREE BAND-AIDS with FUN DESIGNS to be given to the children’s oncology floor at Yale-New Haven Hospital. The hospital only uses plain, brown Band-Aids, and the ones with fun pictures, cartoon characters, footballs etc. really brighten up the day for the kids fighting cancer.

This is an easy and inexpensive way to spread some love, smiles and sunshine to these amazing little warriors, and to help us pay tribute to our sweet Peyton’s memory.

You can purchase and ship the Band-Aids to the address below yourself, or order them online and have them shipped directly through sites such as Amazon.com, CVS.com etc.

Why Bucks?

We are also collecting cash donations to benefit the Kacey Rose Foundation. Depending on the amount raised, the Kacey Rose Foundation will be providing kids who are fighting cancer at Yale-New Haven Hospital with a fun ice cream party, and/or a lucky patient (or patients hopefully!) will receive a cool new gadget i.e. an iPod, Kindle, etc.

Please donate what you can to help us make these kids’ stay in the hospital a little easier.

*Please make your TAX DEDUCTIBLE checks payable to Kacey Rose Foundation and put “Peyton” in the memo field.

In her short time here, Peyton gave us the gift of her unconditional love. Thank you in advance for helping us honor her memory.

Send your BIRTHDAY BUCKS and BANDAIDS (Latex-Free) through October 2nd to the following address:

Happy 5th Birthday Peyton/DGIHN
c/o the Kacey Rose Foundation
P.O. Box 4412 Wallingford, CT 06492

About Peyton:

Peyton Elizabeth Binder was born Sept. 4th 2008 to Andrew and Kristin Binder. Unbeknownst to anyone, our “beautiful, perfect little baby girl,” was born with infant leukemia (ALL w/ MLL rearrangement) the odds of which fall somewhere in the range of 1 in 50 million.

Peyton fought with the heart of a prize fighter through chemo, spinal taps and multiple surgeries, until sadly, on Oct. 2nd, she left this world from her mother’s arms.

During our daughter’s too-short life, we were the recipients of many acts of kindness and compassion, and this is why we strive to give back in her memory. Our goal is to honor Peyton’s life by Doing Good in Her Name.

**The Kacey Rose Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) organization.

IBMD

Our lives go on. We smile more. We laugh more. We love more. But we never stop missing. We never stop loving. ♥ Peyton ♥

Looking forward to a day of peace, healing and remembrance as I celebrate International Bereaved Mother's Day with Janessa's Mommy, who I've spent every IBMD with since losing Peyton, and Stella's Mommy, who I look forward to meeting. 

I pray that on this beautiful Sunday, you all feel your child(ren)'s presence with you more strongly, and a sense of peace in your hearts. 
xoxo

A lot changes, a lot stays the same.

Good Lord it feels like it's been a million years since I last blogged. The initial whirlwind of parenting multiples is finally slowing down a bit. My two are now over two (can you even believe that?!) and keep me running from morning to night, but luckily they're allowing me some blog time today.

So much has been happening here. You may remember me mentioning that Hubs got laid off last August ('12) from a company he was with (and loved) for nearly ten years. It came as a shock and we both job searched for over five months before he landed a new role in a different state, so we are now mid-move, having packed up our life into the back of the family van, and moved to a rental until we can sell our house.

This, of course, brought a lot of mixed emotions on the Peyton front, with her hill being mere minutes from our old house. I don't know, long term, how that will make me feel to be several hours from her grave, but for now I am somewhat okay with it--because I just got to visit her there last week, and will be home nearly weekly for the foreseeable future until we get the house sold.

Leaving our house, on the other hand, was a no-brainer for me. Our beautiful yellow and white colonial that I so loved upon purchase, has been an unhappy place for me these last several years. I cried more tears in that house than I could ever count, and I'd be lying if I said that moving from there is anything other than liberating (though it is very stressful not knowing when/if our house will sell.) It may sound silly to hate an inanimate object, but I truly do hate that house.

It had represented so many things to the newlywed me, that just didn't come to be with Peyton, and while we had so many happy memories there with The Snowflakes, they couldn't dull the pain of all of the memories spent grieving there. I died in that house, or at least the carefree me died there.

Beautiful as it is, with it's daffodils and bay window, that house will always be the place that Peyton never came home to. Even now, four and a half years later, we still refer to the little yellow room with the green carpet as Peyton's room, despite that fact that her decorations are long gone, and the furniture was passed down to her siblings well over a year ago.

The kids are doing well. Really well. Bubba is still incredibly allergic to milk, but other than that, he's bright and funny and eager to learn, and honestly the boy just makes my heart sing.

Squeaks, ironically, has become the more physical/less verbal of the two, though she still Squeaks with the best of them at 72,000 decibels when excited, so we will keep the name going here for blogging purposes.

They are joyful and hard work and in the momma department they keep me very happy, though I must admit that personally I've been in a real funk lately. I don't know if it is the constant running around after them, the years of sleeplessness, the aging that grief has done to me, the reminders that PTSD bring, the stressing and worrying and hyper-vigilance of parenting after loss, the financial stress we have been under, moving, or a combination of it all, but I feel like shit and it shows. 

I am 33 but I feel simply ancient and look even worse and just wish there was some great rewind or delete button that would help me feel something other than worn out by life all the time. 

I envision myself doing something freeing and just for me, like going for a run (which is a funny fantasy since I hate to run), but the reality is that we are in a new town therefore have no one to watch the kiddos, and I don't get five seconds of daylight without one or the both of them (who absolutely refuse to sit in a stroller now) attached to me, so for the time being at least, that's sort of out of the question.

Anyway, that's where we are at for now. 

xoxo

Two years

Today marks two years since my rainbows came into the world.

Two years of laughter and love and sleepless nights and joy and tantrums and learning and teaching and all the wonderment that is parenting.

I have been so very, very blessed.

Today also marks two years since I last blogged here on a regular basis. 

I think of this space often, but life has a way of getting in the way of my writing, and right now, here, in this moment, is where I need to be.

That doesn't mean that I miss Peyton any less, of course, or that I don't think of this community every day. It's just that my heart and mind are in the moment, and that moment is a blessing to be taken in.

There have been so many changes over these last two years. So many milestones. Even as they pertain to how we remember Peyton, the kids' relationship with her is ever evolving. They say, "Bye Baby" when we wave to her grave now, and smile at her picture. I even think I heard Bubba call her "Peytey" one time. 

I feel so blessed by the incredible amount of love and healing that my Snowflakes have brought my heart. They've reminded me that life can be truly beautiful. Even a life once so broken down by grief as mine was.

Two years ago they came into my world and changed me forever.

They shined light in the darkness. Taught my heart to beat again. They are my world, my reason, my all.

They are, in a word, LOVE.

So here is to you my little Snowflakes, on the occasion of turning two.

You make me so proud and teach me new lessons every day. I wish for you a Happy Birthday and may many blessings be upon you always.

I love you xoxo

Momma