Author: ourhappyplaceandco

The Great Smoky Mountains Trip Highlights

2017, Family, Parenting

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We were fortunate to be able to take a trip in March to Tennessee to visit and explore the Great Smoky Mountains. The mountains were good to us – we had an amazing time and will be returning (once a season if I had my wish).

I wrote a series, being featured on Pittsburgh Moms Blog about our trip. It focuses on how family friendly this area is and all it has to offer from Pigeon Forge to Gatlinburg and everywhere in between.

Part One can be found here: Visiting the Great Smoky Mountains.

Part Two can be found here: Dollywood 

And, Part Three: Ripley’s Aquarium of the Smokies

Thank you to Pittsburgh Moms Blog for featuring this trip. Also, a huge thank you to Dollywood and Ripley’s Aquarium of the Smokies for sponsoring our day at each of your attractions while we visited Tennessee!

If you’re looking for a family-friendly vacation spot that’s an easy car-ride, offers lots of indoor and outdoor activities and can keep kids of any age busy, consider visiting The Smokies.

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If you have questions about our trip or the places we visited, send me a note or leave a comment below.

Also, if you’ve visited this area before and have recommendations for other readers, please let us know! Like I said earlier, we plan on returning (very soon). 🙂

One Year in Our Home

2017, Family, Home, Lifestyle

Today marks one year of being home owners. That’s crazy. I think about this time last year and we were so excited for so many things. I remember sitting in the car with Dan at Howard Hanna’s office after we “signed our life away” and holding this ring of keys and thinking about what was in store for us. Our families thought we were crazy – buying a home and having a baby, within 10 days of each other, and then 6 days later moving. Nah, it’ll be a piece of cake.

I was watering the plants out front last night and Dan was cutting the grass in the back yard. Luke was eating a popsicle on the front porch. I looked around thinking I don’t think I’ll ever leave here. Sure, when people purchase a house for the first time I’m sure they think “it’s just a starter.” But this house holds so many things in just the 365 days of it being ours. This is the only place Toby ever called home. This is a neighborhood that we were strangers to, but neighbors opened their arms and hearts to us at the most devastating moment in our life. These are strangers, that became friends and say to us “we know there’s an angel just for Kelvington Drive.”

You know how people say things happen for a reason? I believe it. I believe before we could even imagine it, this is where we were supposed to be. I believe over the two years (our agent Linda Weithorn is probably nodding her head somewhere while all of you are gasping) of looking and thinking “is it the right time?” the deals that fell through and the details that didn’t align with what we wanted for our family, it was all for a reason.

I have this piece of artwork downstairs in our house that says “May our home always be too small to hold all our friends.” The last year has proven that it is that and beyond – and for that, I’m so grateful.

Thank you to everyone that has visited us in our first year here. We look forward to opening our door (and porch) to many more friends throughout the summer and beyond.

There’s a lot of things that are questionable to me anymore, but this purchase we made a year ago is not one of them.

When I come home at night, it feels right. It feels like home.

Here are a few photos from our first days in our home. ❤

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International Bereaved Mother’s Day

2017, Family, grief, loss, Parenting, Toby

“A mother is not defined by the number of children you see, but by the love she holds in her heart.” 

Today, May 7, is International Bereaved Mother’s Day around the world. A day to recognize the mothers who have lost a child or children. A day to open our eyes, ears, and hearts to mothers with empty arms and a broken heart, that could be sitting right next to you. 

Please take a moment to read my letter to other grieving mothers on Pittsburgh Moms Blog: 

http://pittsburgh.citymomsblog.com/motherhood/international-bereaved-mothers-day-letter-tobys-mom-grieving-mothers/

If you are a mother who is a part of the bereavement community, I am sorry you are here. But please know, you are not alone. 

Sequential Why’s and What If’s

2017, Family, grief, loss, Parenting, Toby

I hate this day. I hate going to bed the evening of the 23rd of each month. I hate waking up the 24th of every month. My motions and routine are clouded by continual flashbacks of August 24th. I can see the events of that day play out in my mind. Every step I take this day, of the last eight months, I am constantly questioning life.

What if we would have left earlier that day? What if we would have been later? What if I hadn’t gone to work? What if Dan had not been at school? What if I wouldn’t have changed Toby’s outfit at the last minute that day? God knows I have idea why I decided to change him in the first place. What if? 

Luke is at the “why” stage of his toddler years. The last few days have been a constant barrage of questions. As he was quizzing me on the way to daycare this morning with sequential why’s, my mind drifted. I thought, if I could have a day with God, I would probably sound just like Luke.

Why did you take Toby? Why could he only be here for 12 weeks and 5 days? Why did you give us this perfect, healthy, beautiful, happy baby and then take him away with no explanation? Why couldn’t you let me tell him good-bye? Why did you take Luke’s little brother? Why do you keep placing circumstances right in front of Dan and I, that to us, seem like nothing but slaps in the face? Why do we have to live our lives without him?

Why? Why? Why? Why? 

The months of March and April proved to be an emotional roller coaster. Things happened, but provided no answers for why Toby died. His headstone arrived and was placed at his grave, unbeknownst to Dan and me. While it is beautiful, just as we hoped. Seeing his name on it, bring so much emotion and sadness, it’s exhausting. The emotional wounds re-opened, the trauma resurfaced.

I am, we are, dreading the month of May. It will begin the months that will overlap with the time that we had him here on Earth.

With the weather getting warmer and the time changing, I have been trying to run again in the evenings. It hasn’t been going well. I go about a mile and my legs get very heavy, my hands start to sweat. I stare at the ground directly in front of me and I hold the tears in for as long as I can. Until I just give up. I shouldn’t be running alone. He was with me, in the stroller, right in front of me – staring at me while we ran. I would talk to him, ask him if he saw the trees or the birds. Tell him what was around us or how far we had gone. He would smile at me. I would smile back. Now the space in front of me is empty. It’s a constant reminder that I will never see him smile again.

August 18_Running with Mom

Running together at the park, August 18, 2016.

I pray. Every. Single. Day. He is smiling. I pray, that he sees Dan, Luke and me smile and that he knows behind each smile is a wish and an ache that he is was here with us. This constant ache in my heart that no amount of joy will ever take away.

Toby, we miss you more than any words or actions could describe.

God, why can’t you just bring Toby back to us?

Music – A blanket thru grief

2017, grief, loss

I’ve had a few people lately ask “what is helping?”

Every day is different. Every situation needs a different crutch or band-aid. I thought that maybe these songs could help someone else, as I’ve searched many times for song lists that help others through grief, only finding a few.

Music touches the soul in a special way. Sometimes it lifts me up and sometimes it causes me to break, but even in those lowest moments I still let the song play. If it is causing that much emotion in my heart and mind, there is something there that Toby wants me to hear.

Im already there

Here are some of the songs that I’ve found help me. I love this line “Sometimes our soul needs a soundtrack.” For right now, this is mine:

 

Beam Me Up – Pink

Amazing Grace – Peter Hollens

There, There Katie – Josh Gray

Jealous of the Angels – Donna Taggart

Stars – Grace Potter

Who You’d Be Today – Kenny Chesney

Waiting on an Angel – Ben Harper

Outskirts of Heaven – Craig Campbell

Make You Feel My Love – Adele

I’m Already There – Lonestar

They Will Be Done – Hillary Scott

 

What songs have you used to help in your grief journey? Maybe they remind you of your loved one, or have lyrics that give you hope?

Please share in the comments below.

 

Easter Morning in Heaven 

2017, faith, Family, grief, Home, Joy, loss, Lucas, Marriage, Toby

Last Sunday as we sat in church for Palm Sunday mass, I was overcome with emotion thinking of what Heaven would be like for Easter and what beautiful sites Toby would see this week. 

Can you imagine, seeing Jesus’ face on Easter morning? I cannot, but the thought of my beautiful son having the honor to be in His presence this morning, it takes my breath away. 

We were gifted a tree in rememberence of Toby in the fall and planted it in our front yard. It has grown a few inches through the winter and the past few weeks the buds have been forming. Yesterday, a few of them bloomed. I thought it was so fitting that the flowers on his tree first bloomed during Easter week. These magnolia flowers, with maroon, pink and white on their petals are simply beautiful and to me are a glimpse from Toby of the beauty of Heaven. 


This is Luke’s third Easter and each year I’ve enjoyed buying him a cute tie for his Easter outfit. I cried shopping this year because I wished I was buying two ties. I should have just bought two, and I was mad when I got home that I didn’t. When I was pulling Luke’s Easter basket out of the closet I found his tie from his first easter, so I took that out for Toby. 

We had bought Luke a basket with his initial on it for his first easter. This year I grabbed a small basket from Target for Toby, but when I was putting them together last night, I was again regretting not having one made that was special for Toby. I remembered that I had fabric I had found through the winter, but had not used yet. It matched the basket I had for him, so we improvised and made him his own. Fox and all. 


Yesterday while walking back from the park, Luke picked a dandilion and immediately said “Toby’s really going to love to see this.” We looked down at him, smiling. Yes, he will, buddy. He loves to see you playing and having fun. 

Our one son is not here and my heart breaks daily to see his sweet face and smile with him. We try to do things to make him a part of everything that we do and fully present in those special days and moments. I can’t imagine not including him in all these moments. Maybe, in a way, they comfort our hearts. But my hope is that he can see us and smile at what we are doing for him. 

With Luke being sick this weekend, he was up before the sun again today. But, sitting in the living room, with only the tv on this morning, I was able to watch the sun rise outside our window. It rose through the two houses across the street, but more beautifully, from where I was sitting, it was directly above Toby’s tree in the front yard. 


This picture doesn’t do it justice, but it was truly beautiful. Another sign of Easter Sunday. 

While we are all celebrating, singing hymns at mass today, or praying in our homes, there are many empty chairs around our tables. Those that have just left their families and those that have been gone for some time, but are missed just as much. Our hearts ache for them to be here, but remember, they are at the table with Him today. They get to see His face first this morning. Wow, can you even imagine what a beautiful sight that must be? 

He is not here. For He is risen, as He said. –Matthew 28:6

Wishing you and your families a beautiful, healthy, and blessed Easter holiday. 

Blessings, 

The Stern Family 

Katie, Dan, Lucas & Toby 

On This Journey – A perspective on paths, purpose, and worth

2017, Family, grief, Home, Lifestyle, loss, Parenting, Toby

Let me tell you a story.

I’ve been very lucky in my professional career. I have worked for some great companies that opened doors to even greater opportunities to advance my career in the architectural, engineering and construction (AEC) industry. I’ve had ups and downs over the past decade, but there was one constant – my network through the Society for Marketing Professional Services (SMPS).

Starting out in the AEC industry, SMPS became my anchor. It provided a place for continual education, an avenue to learn how to connect with technical staff, how to think beyond the proverbial “marketing” box and take chances by way of volunteer positions and committee involvement. Most of the time, I didn’t know what I was volunteering for, but I knew that if I could help anyone at the dawn of their careers in the AEC industry, by connecting companies, brands, people, mentors with mentees, then it made it all worth it.

When I think about my career plan, it, like the rest of my life, has thrown me some of the biggest curve balls. Some good, some bad. From my very first years of working in the “real world” I’ve had goals that I wanted to achieve. Many of those are still “in progress” and for me that’s ok. Some of my goals may not seem like achievements for others. And that’s okay too. We all have different perceptions. Different dreams. Which leads me to this.

I think it’s good to have a bucket list – for both your personal and professional life. Most of us don’t have an opportunity to check things off those lists every year. For those of you that do, that’s amazing and you’re my hero. I like to keep my bucket list in places where I can see them, especially my professional list. It’s just for me, in a sense. And I’m a firm believer that you’re more likely to get something done if it’s written down. It’s like you’re being held accountable. (Post-it notes are great for this – or even the notepad in your phone so it’s on all your devices).

I want to share one of my bucket list items with you, because I think the outcome of it is a good lesson about life.

SMPS offers regional conferences across the country where you can have the benefits of a national conference on a regional level. After attending a few of these it was something I wanted to be a part of, by way of the planning committee. So I added it to my bucket list.

In early 2015 I was offered the opportunity to help bring the Heartland Regional Conference to Pittsburgh. SMPS Pittsburgh had never hosted a regional conference and the team I had the joy of working with, compiled our city’s nomination, and it was an amazing collaborative effort.

Pittsburgh was named the host city for the Heartland Region’s 2017 Conference.

In the fall of 2015, another offer by two amazing and seasoned Marketing and Business Development professionals within our industry offered me the seat to be the Chair of the Programs Committee for the conference. This is one of those opportunities that makes your stomach turn with excitement and nervousness. But it’s what I wanted and what an opportunity it was. And the clock was ticking. We had under 18 months to plan a 3-day educational program for 200+ individuals.

At that time, my husband and I had found out that we were expecting our second child and my delivery was on the doorstep of the summer of 2016. As usual, things fell into place and with a rock-star co-chair and the support of an amazing committee and lots of planning, the schedule was coming together and milestones were being met.

Our second son, Toby was born May 27, 2016. I was very lucky to enjoy the summer home with my entire family and was anticipating getting back into work mid-August and jumping back into Program planning in the thick of everything coming together.

I was back to work for 14 days when my family’s world was brought to a stop. Toby died in his sleep, the afternoon of Wednesday, August 24.

I have always been a planner. Life does not stop for the unimaginable. Even though, in the midst of shock and grief, it seems to.

I stepped down from my role as Co-Chair in October. I needed to focus on being with my family. I needed to learn to walk again, with a very empty heart.

Fast forward to the beginning of April. The Heartland Regional Conference (HRC) commenced and brought nearly 230 AEC professionals into Pittsburgh. Feedback from attendees over the 3-day event was nothing but positive and the speakers were amazing. Sitting in the audience, watching veteran SMPS members welcome first-time HRC attendees was amazing. I’m sure you can ask any fellow SMPS’er and they will tell you, these conferences, whether regional or national, can put the fire back in your career and give a creative boost, just when it’s needed.

It was an honor to be involved in the beginning steps of bringing HRC to Pittsburgh. I was given a ‘thank you’ from the co-chairs and when I opened it, it had a lot of connection, pulled at a lot of strings that hadn’t been touched for a few months.

Pittsburgh Picture

Artwork by: Nevin Robinson

We spend a lot of our life thinking we constantly need to achieve things. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good to move forward in your career. It challenges us. Makes us think differently. Brings new friends into our path. Teaches us things. But I also think we can lose sight of a lot.

My husband and I love Pittsburgh. Sure, we love the beach and the mountains too, but Pittsburgh will always be home. We love raising our family here. We love working here. Our two-year old, Lucas, loves the sports teams. This is the only city Toby ever knew. I can’t imagine not being here.

This ‘thank you’ holds much more for me. The rivers of Pittsburgh. The Point. The view.

My journey changed dramatically eight months ago. I stepped to the bank and let a boat go by that I really wanted to be on. One surrounded with people that I admired and that supported me. I feel like I was placed back in the water in a kayak, alone. Life said “Here. Figure it out.”

My first thought when I looked at this picture was, “This is Toby’s view of Pittsburgh.”

I am not the person I was eight months ago, but that does not mean my life is any less. It does not mean my achievements aren’t worth as much as anyone else’s. It just means they are different. For someone that is a “doer” this is something I am working on learning to accept. And it is hard.

Sometimes we don’t achieve what’s on our bucket list. Sometimes we can’t. Sometimes we achieve things that have far greater meaning to our lives, right at that moment or much later in life. Sometimes people judge, say we failed, and it hurts. Sometimes doors open at the wrong times and we have to close them and move on. These are things that we don’t have control of. This is life. It’s hard to navigate and sometimes even harder to accept.

I have added one thing to my bucket list since August 24, 2016 – to live my life in honor of our son, Toby. To make a difference in his name. Maybe that will happen with the help of my professional career, maybe it won’t.

Take it easy on your journey, professional or personal. Be ready for curveballs. Be ready for the unimaginable. If you need to stop somewhere and take a break, it’s okay.

But, one tip. Be ready to ask life to leave you a paddle.

Little Pieces of Light & Peace

2017, faith, Family, grief, loss, Toby

As Lent began, I searched for my focus for the next 40 days. I was looking for something that I could “do” that would help me in my grief, but also something that would help provide little pieces of light and peace. When we moved into our house last year there were two cardinals that would fly into the tree in front of our window in the family room. Every time we saw them we’d always hurry to the window “do you see them?” we’d say to Luke, as one of us was holding Toby in our arms. It was a moment of the day that made us smile. Last week I was sitting on the couch and something caught my eye at the window. I looked out and it was a cardinal, by itself, sitting in the tree. I hurried to the window to get a closer look at him, there for a split second, and then he flew away. There are many articles that say cardinals are visitors, angels, from heaven. It made me wonder, were the two that visited us over the summer watching over Toby? And the new visitor, this spring, is he alone for Luke? Or is that Toby visiting us?

We went away to the beach a few weeks after Toby died. In the mornings, the sky had these beautiful clouds with strong rays of light streaming down and reflecting on the ocean. Looking at it made me wonder what that sight was like from Heaven. How beautiful that must be. Can you imagine being able to have a seat and see any spot in the world? I cannot, but just the thought of that takes my breath away. Being able to have a place to sit in Heaven and look over your entire family? That is truly amazing.

I picked up a prayer book from church at the start of Lent. It has a short daily reflection and a few excerpts from Jesus’ journey to the cross. The focus of this prayer book is just that, prayer. How we pray. What we say to God. What we ask of God. His expectations for us.

Through these reflections, the Blessed Mother’s journey through this time have been front of mind for me. She is a grieving mother. She is a strong mother with the utmost faith in God. How did she do it? Through these first 20+ days of lent, I’ve found my focus. The Blessed Mother. I am laying my grief, anger, tears, sorrow, emptiness, loneliness, a longing to hold my sweet Toby in my arms and kiss his face, and the missing sound of TWO sets of tiny feet running through the hall upstairs, or our sons innocent laughs that we will never hear because they can’t play together. All of this. I’m laying at her feet for Lent and trying to join my grief to hers.

This 24th of March marks seven months. Those of you who have continued to follow in our journey through grief, through the loss of our beautiful son Toby, I am sure you are able to see some of our highs AND lows. And while there may be more of the latter, I continue to work on finding more of the former. It is so hard. Too hard to put into words. Too hard for many to understand the struggles we face, daily. The judgement, not said, but felt, to be happy, trust, move forward, accept. It is intense and paralyzing. I know, indisputably, we do not take a thing for granted anymore. I will be the first to tell you that prior to Toby’s death yes, I did take things for granted. So while I may not look like the most grateful person when you see me, I may not smile as much as I did, the depth of my gratitude for everyday moments runs deeper than you know. For I know, more than most, how quickly my greatest blessings can be taken away. How one, “Have a good day” kiss or “I love you” can be the last. I know the immeasurable pain of being robbed of ONE of the TWO greatest joys of my life.

As the seventh month anniversary comes at the mid-way point of Lent, I am noticing a change in myself. A loss of the pause when a stranger asks me about my children, because I don’t want them to be uncomfortable. The urge to be able to talk more about our loss and our joy with Toby for the time he was here. The desire to find ways to shed light on grieving parents and the societal pretense to “not talk about it” because it’s too uncomfortable. The bad days are still so dark and the worst moments still come at the drop of a hat. I continue to work on the acceptance of that. My prayers are different and the way I talk to God has completely changed. I continue to pray that when Toby sees Dan and me, he knows that the tears we are crying or the anger that causes us to curse at the sky is because the hole in our hearts for him is so big and each day without him is so hard. That there are just no words – only tears. I continue to hope that one day, through my actions, rebuilding, and finding a purpose on this journey I did not choose for our family’s life, that I can proudly say “Let me tell you about Toby. He is the one that showed me how to love beyond all measure. How to survive the unimaginable. How to live life for him.”

I am not there yet, Toby, but I’m working on it. Continue to hold my hand and my heart, sweet boy.

Bringing Home Baby

Family, Home, Joy, Lucas, Toby

As I first time mom, I remember wondering if I should be reading every book and taking every piece of advice that anyone had to offer. The pressure is a little overwhelming, isn’t it?

The new post on Pittsburgh Moms Blog talks about my scenario for bringing both boys home from the hospital. To say the least, it’s night and day.

Bringing Home Baby 

Stills

Family, grief, loss, Parenting, Toby

Lately, I’ve been trying to reflect on the last six months. The reality of six months makes me so incredibly angry. The months of September and October, I have no recollection of. Lucas turned 2 on September 4. I have two moments of that day that resurface in my mind – the first – standing on the deck, it was so hot, our family singing happy birthday to him; the second – standing in the kitchen looking out into the backyard as our nieces and nephews ran down off the deck to play. I remember blinking, leaning toward the window, thinking “someone’s holding Toby.” Waiting for one of our parents to walk down into the yard with him in their arms. But no one came. Now, when I look out the kitchen window, that’s the memory that plays in my mind.
There was a good stretch of time where I was finally sleeping. These past few weeks I’ve been waking up multiple times a night. I woke up one night last week, while Dan was away for work, and I swore I heard crying. Not Luke’s cry. It was a baby, the softest whine. I opened my eyes thinking I would see the monitor. Nothing. Darkness. And the sound was gone.

The waves of tears and uncontrollable crying have been replaced by a calmness that I absolutely hate. I feel numb again, like I did in those first weeks. I hate it. I feel guilty that I can’t cry when I feel like I need to. But then there are moments it is all I can do. I am sad, depressed, angry – nothing anyone says is the right thing.

I never experienced pain or loneliness until Toby died. You think you experience pain; you think the loss of someone you love is beyond words; you think people understand. We don’t. I unfortunately can say this, because I’ve been on both sides of this. 

You have no idea the pain of a grieving parent, unless you are a grieving parent. There have been many days this past month where my emotions are so bottled-up, feeling hurt, lost, and alone – the tears come when they come and there is no choice but to surrender to those feelings, because I don’t have the strength to stop them. 

I said before that six months makes me angry, and most days it does. When I look at the calendar or the date in the bottom corner of my computer, I instantly think another day away from you. My arms hurt. I feel the pain inside and out and then, like another wave of emotion, I feel guilty. How should I feel? Do people look at us and think we should be moving through this grief more smoothly or quicker? Am I being the best mom I can be for Lucas? People say, It will get better; time will help; it won’t hurt as bad.

Yes. Yes it does. It does hurt as bad. As bad as August 24. The flashes in my mind on any day are enough to knock the wind out of any mother. On a bad day? They’re a nasty nightmare. The sound of an ambulance siren. The lights, even if I close my eyes, the red and brightness, flash and I can’t breathe. Some routes home, I look out the window sometimes and feel like I’m not even moving, but the feeling in my heart and stomach is the same from that afternoon. There are no words for it.

Others say things, intending to be helpful, but aren’t. I’m trying to learn to take what is, and leave what isn’t.

The weather the past few weeks has gone from 30 degrees and snowing one day to 60 degrees and sunny the next. I think these glimpses of spring, of warmer weather, are bringing emotions with them. As much as the past six months have been unbearable, I’m starting to feel anxiety for the next six. Toby’s birthday. June. July. August. One year. Vacationing without him. Going back to the pool and parks where we spent 12 amazing weeks as a family of four.

Some have said to us, I don’t know how you do it? I really don’t know either. Some days we just don’t. We don’t leave our house. We stay inside with Lucas and our dogs, Murray and Theo, and do whatever we feel like doing. I used to long for those days, when we could enjoy the boys together. Laugh. Play. Sing. We still have those days, but now I long for Toby to be there with us. Sometimes when I close my eyes, my wish is that I’ll open them and he’ll be right there in the swing. That’s a still that’s in my mind. The still of his face in the car the morning of August 24 when I was taking our boys to daycare. He was smiling and laughing at Lucas. I hate hitting the light on Rt. 22. That’s the still that’s in my mind, except when I hit that light, I almost feel like I’m watching my life. All the lights, people, fast moving vehicles – they haven’t stopped, or even slowed. But if I look right or left, there’s no sound, there’s no color. It’s just still.

 As I continue to write, while it helps sometimes to get the feelings out and on paper, I hope that it will reach someone who’s maybe feeling the same. Whether in the first year of loss or the tenth. People go through many struggles. The loss of a child is a big struggle. A big, traumatic, loss. There is no fix for this. To lose a child is to lose the very heart and soul of you. My prayer right now is that this darkness that has come back will somehow make way for a time that will fuel me, us, to do things we never dreamed we could do. All while keeping the memory of our beautiful, blue-eyed, boy alive. And even though they hurt, I pray the stills never go away.