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.

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.

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.

All the Love

2017, faith, Family, Home, Parenting

To the new mom who is running on two hours of sleep; no shower in a few days; same clothes you slept in from the day before; three week old baby asleep on your shoulder and the living room in front of you a mess from toys your two-year old has been playing with – I’m praying for you.

To the new foster mom in line at the store. Your cart not only filled high with food, clothes, winter jackets, hats and gloves, diapers, formula, soap and juice, but the two little girls that you just opened your home and heart to – I’m praying for you.

To the women in line at the pharmacy, holding a pregnancy test, your stomach in knots because you don’t want to go through the heartbreak of yet another miscarriage but yet you want a positive test; to be able to carry a healthy baby full term; and finally hold your child in your arms – I’m praying for you.

To the grandmother who has raised a family, watched her children marry and now have families and children of their own. Who have silently grieved while being strong for your daughters and sons as they have endured miscarriages, deaths of children, infertility and continual longing – I am praying for you.

To the mother who is now caring for her own mother. A women who adored her family and yet today no longer remembers who they are or who is caring for her, but loves you anyway and smiles as you brush her hair or sing her a song – I’m praying for you.

To the women who has done everything possible to conceive; ate all the right things; taken every pill or shot they’ve prescribed; prayed 1,000 times over and yet nothing is working and you feel like you’re body is failing you; preventing you from being the mom you always wanted to be; from your husband becoming a father; your parents a grandparent – I’m praying for you.

To the grandmother who is now raising her grandchildren, for whatever the circumstance may be. Who has opened her home to the laughter and tears, long nights and fights over what everyone wants for dinner, but goes to be each evening thanking God for these little blessings – I’m praying for you.

To the stay-at-home mom who would give anything for a night out, even if that just meant a trip to Target and a coffee on your own. Who was up before her family to finish laundry and pack lunches and who will have toys, books, craft supplies and dinner to clean up after bath time tonight – I am praying for you.

To the working mom whose alarm went off at 5am so you could get a workout in before the rest of your family was awake, worked a 8-5 day and only stopped to go to the bathroom once and whose lunch consisted of a pack of crackers and a diet coke. Who is on pick-up for daycare this week and would give anything for her email to stop while she’s watching just one episode of Mickey Mouse with her toddler before bedtime – I’m praying for you.

For the parents who have one child in the hospital and one, or more, child(en) at home. Who haven’t been in the same room with each other for weeks because they are focused on making sure each child is taken care of and feels like everything is going to be ok. Who take shifts sleeping and working, just to pay the medical bills and buy groceries, and sometimes don’t know what day of the week it is – I’m praying for you.

To the father holding the weight of the world on your shoulders so that your wife and children do not have to bear it. Finding all the right things to say when someone asks “how are you?”; defending and protecting your family with every ounce of strength you have that when you hit your knees to pray, all that comes are tears – I’m praying for you.

To the women and men who teach and care for our children while their parents are at work each day. Who comfort them when they are sick or skinned their knee playing outside. Who discipline them, even when you don’t want to, and show them how to share and pray. Who high-five them when they ace their spelling or math test and say “wait till you tell Mom & Dad” – I’m praying for you.

To the mother and father who’s weekly routine involves multiple visits to the cemetery, either before or after work, because you’ve suffered the loss of one or more children. Who spend time each week telling your children about what you wish you were doing with them, here on Earth, instead of them watching you from Heaven – I’m praying for you.

—

To anyone that reads this and can relate to any of these circumstances, I admire your ability to do it every day. I have seen each of you over the past few months and if it wasn’t for the death of my son, Toby, which caused me to look at life in a different way, I may not have seen you, or recognized how hard you are trying. I admire the patience you have, your ability to face each day and your dedication to those that depend on you. I wish you grace and peace for whatever road you are on. I know that you want the children in your lives to feel important and loved. And no matter what anyone says, they DO and that’s because of YOU. You do it best. You love them best and the exact way that they need to be loved.

I am praying for each of you this month because I have seen you and you’ve made an impact on my life, without knowing it, and how I look at every situation. Know that someone is praying for you and wishing that, if even for one moment of your day, you can see yourself and think “I am brave” or “I am doing my best.”

You do not feel it at all, I know. I’m right there with you. But you are. You are brave, and you are wise, and I hope you feel loved.

I found this leaf on the ground yesterday morning as I dropped Luke off. A little sign from our angel, Toby.

Healthy Eating with Your Toddler

Family, Food, Lifestyle, Lucas, Parenting

I’m over on the Pittsburgh Moms Blog talking about easy and fun ways to tie your toddler into healthy eating habits in your home (without bribing! 😉 )

Check out the post here: Easy (and fun) Ways to Tie You Toddler into Healthy Eating Habits

Do you have recipes or ways that you tie fruits and veggies into your kids meals that they will eat? We’d love to hear them so that others can try them out if they’re struggling with a picky eater!

A New Endeavor

2017, Dan, faith, Family, Lucas, Marriage, Parenting, Toby

I have spend the last few weeks very focused in prayer. That was one of my small goals for the year. It has been normal in these times to also talk to Toby. Tell him what is on my heart and ask for guidance or some sort of sign as to whether or not I should even be carrying whatever it is that is heavy on my heart and mind.

An opportunity presented itself at the beginning of January as a way to help our mission of being a voice for grieving parents and parenting through the loss of a child, while also offering the chance to work with some amazing people. View the video below to see what door has opened for our family (video is ~10mins).

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We continue to be ever grateful for the support, encouragement, outreach, thoughts and prayers for our family. You are in our daily prayer of thanksgiving. Through this new endeavor I look forward to hearing, learning and growing more through those that follow us at Our Happy Place & Co., and those that find us through Pittsburgh Moms Blog Network.