"I will carry you," a mother promises her unborn child, despite knowing this baby may have only minutes, hours, or a day in her arms. A grief begins months before delivery, a depth of emotions that cannot even completely unfurl while anticipation builds to meet this precious baby. However, greater than that is an untouchable bond of love between mother and child.
I attended a funeral today of a friend whose baby lived for a day and a half, despite the condition of his heart. His life here one earth was not long, and yet it was full of the purest joy and love from his family. I was amazed by the words of Amy and John Ewell. Though they just lost their baby, they spoke of miracles and blessings, grateful that Landon could breath and be held and even taken home, if only for a day.
On Ty's birthday last Thursday, I had the opportunity to visit with Amy. I spent the morning at Target, trying to put together gift bags for the kids to keep them happy and busy, and a few things for the parents. I started to really fret over what to get the dad, since I didn't want him to be forgotten. But what does someone get a friend's husband who she doesn't know, without it being weird or awkward. I couldn't get a hold of Dan so I called Ryan, and started talking a mile a minute about my dilemma. He answered my question, guiding me back to the gift card idea. Then he asked how I was doing, given it was Ty's birthday.
I told him I could feel it building. "Yeah, I can hear it in your voice," he said, calling me out of my emotional state. "Don't say that!" I said, and then started to cry the first tears of the day. Probably because he was the first adult conversation I'd had since Dan left for work is why he was the lucky recipient of my tears, and he knew my frantic search for the right gift had more to do with Ty than anything else. So while I was embarrassed to be crying in Target, it was helpful to get the tears out.
I bawled some more with Amy as she described her day and a half with Landon, both the sweet and devastating moments. I hated that she had to go through that, and of course, it brought up my own grief over Ty. But I am happy to have spent that time with another grieving mother. I think Ty would be proud about that.
The rest of the day, I didn't get a chance to rest and meditate and write about Ty. But we did get balloons for him and wrote notes on them. Oh, I forgot to write about the best part of the morning when I told Aaron and Aiya that we'd be making chocolate cupcakes for Ty's birthday. Aaron squealed and ran into his bedroom and shut the door. I could hear him singing his own rendition of, "Happy birthday to Ty..." and then he emerged in his pirate costume. When I asked why he was wearing that, he responded, "Don't you remember that at parties, you wear costumes?" I thought it was the most adorable thing ever. So he and Aiya helped me make cupcakes and were eager to eat them and wear costumes to Ty's party that evening at the park.
His birthday get less reverent every year as we deal with three children five and under, and the wild blessing that always is. =) Dan puts up with me trying desperately take family photos amongst the chaos, but he knows it's important to me so he doesn't say anything. My mom was able to be there, too. I love that Ty is so important to her, and I appreciated all the love notes from my family. They never fail to remember him. It was a good day overall.
The emotions continue to soar over the next couple of days when I attended Time Out for Women for the first time. I went with some friends from the ward (Michelle Prince, Jena Salazar and Lindsey Kromrei). There was a great balance of heavy and uplifting material. I mean, it was all uplifting but there were a couple of speakers that really punched us in the gut with their topic. I'll save that for another post but just know there were lots of tears and a wonderful theme of angels, and light overcoming dark.
Then today began with the funeral for Landon Ewell. I slipped into the chapel just moments before the family entered, the father carrying the little casket.
I had to look away. "Oh gosh..." I whispered, remembering so intensely Ty's funeral and that long walk down the aisle as everyone stood for us. The tears fell and continued through the funeral. I could barely sing but tried because music is so important. John and Amy provided beautiful tributes to their son, allowing us just a peek onto their journey of love and grief. They are strong and they will be ok. I just feel so sad that they have such a long journey ahead of them, full of the deepest despair and but also the brightest hope throughout.
Afterwards, I sat in my car in the parking lot and sobbed, diving into the deepest part of my own grief and unleashing it in the worst ugly cry and hysterics that I've allowed in quite some time. It seems to be an annual or biannual occurrence. I think because I missed my processing time on Ty's birthday and then endured all the emotions from TOFW, on top of the funeral too reminiscent of my own exprience... it was just over the top too much in that moment.
I couldn't breath. I turned on my nature music, trying to calm myself into mediation, focusing on deep breaths. But it wasn't happening. My grief soared. I prayed to God, asking again as I did during the funeral, that Ty be my companion at this time. I wailed. Hyperventilated. I feared I might pass out. Lightheaded, a tingly sensation grew through my limbs and my entire body, accompanied with a type of pressure on me. My arms went numb. I thought surely these were all symptoms of hyperventilating because I was not getting enough air.
And yet afterwards I have wondered. I've heard friends describe feeling their angels present though tingly sensations. Amy had described this tingly sensation overcoming her arm when she'd felt Landon's presence. I wondered if this could the same for me too, considering I had just cried out to Heavenly Father to send Ty to me. It was a really a strange sensation and gave me pause for reflection anyway.
At the very least, I let my "grief bucket" overflow and that's something that is always necessary. I was reminded how much I need to "schedule my grief" because with the little ones, it's really hard to find that quiet time.
I have a goal this year in relation to Ty. I want to call for him more in prayer, and not search out his presence in the way that I typically have over these years. I keep desiring to feel him as a person, but maybe I need to start becoming aware of him in other ways. Maybe it's the tingly feelings. But maybe it's just the peace and calm that comes with meditation, something I need to do more often for myself. I hope to find more insight this year and connection to Heavenly Father and his love.
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