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Saving the Dragonfly

  • Posted on March 31, 2012 at 9:23 am

When I was about seven years old, I saved a little dragonfly.  It was late-morning, and I was on my way to the library from my house, after completing my chores.  I always liked to get my chores done as quickly as possible because that meant I had more time at the library.


As I was walking past the city hall offices, I heard a buzzing sound.  Bzzzz.  Bzzzzz.  Bzzzzzzzzz!  It intrigued me and I went to investigate.  When I was a kid, light poles used to have circular trashcans attached to them, like little trash pods.  They were lined to prevent trash from falling through.


The buzzing was coming from one of these trashcans.


Being the inquisitive sort that I was, I walked up to the trashcan, which was waist level to me.  The bag was vibrating with urgency, as if whatever was in side was frantic to get away.  I wiggled the bag a little bit and inside, a dragonfly buzzed up at me.  It was stuck between the layers of the bag, struggling to find its way out.


I moved the plastic aside, carefully peeling the layer away, my little hands keeping the dragonfly from getting squished.  Suddenly, the dragonfly was free and it flew right past me up into the sky.


I often wonder what happened to that little dragonfly.  It made me happy to save it from an obvious bad ending and to see it fly up into the sky.


I suppose I can compare that little dragonfly to my son’s life.  I often wonder what could have been.  Would he have been able to breathe and grow and laugh and play?  What would he have been?  Would he have been like me, walking to the library, eager to fall into a good book, going on grand adventures with the characters?  Or, would he have been like his father, studious, creative, and brilliant?  I hate that he’s not here.  I get so angry sometimes.  I watch Gracie as she grows into this little person, full of vivacious energy and life and there’s an empty space next to her, never to be filled.  It breaks my heart.

Being Creative

  • Posted on January 28, 2011 at 3:41 pm

Oh, the beginning of January was fun.  My daughter got sick, then my husband got sick, then I got sick.  I finally dragged myself to the doctor’s office last week to get antibiotics, since the sinus infection I had been fighting would not go away.  I’m feeling much better, but I still have a nagging cough.

Then, just when I was starting to feel better, the largest cold sore I’ve ever had parked itself on my bottom lip.  Despite my doctor-prescribed medication, it was painful and embarrassing.  I hate cold sores.  Every time I get one, I grumble about my ex, who didn’t feel it was necessary to be careful when HE had one.  I guess I thought it was OK to kiss him while his cold sore was still active, because the next thing I knew, I had one and it spread down my throat.  But, I digress.

I keep reminding myself to write on my blog, but other things take up my time, like work, taking care of our daughter, trying to stay on top of the dishes in the sink, etc.  Our dining room table is a disaster with stuff piled all over it, but I’ve got creative projects going and I don’t want to move anything.  Speaking of being creative, I was rifling through my teacher stuff the other day and came across a poem by Emily Dickinson that I use when I teach “Of Mice and Men,”  “Hope is the Thing with Feathers.”  It got stuck in my head and wouldn’t come out.  I envisioned a pendant with the poem behind glass and a little saying about my son on the back.  I worked furiously on them for a week, trying to find a way to spiral the text.

As with anything I create, I always wonder if it’s truly something that someone would like.  I was hesitant to show them at my support group, but my purpose of making them was to send a piece of Benjamin out into the world.  I wanted to make something for Benjamin that I could donate to other mothers and families at the hospital, to let them know that some day, hope can return.

Even though we have our daughter, we lost our son.  I miss him every day.  A part of me died after he passed away and my hope for his future passed away along with him.  I don’t know that I can say hope has fully returned to me, yet.  I sit here and feel incredibly guilty because I have only gone to visit his grave once since we buried him.  I haven’t even been able to bring myself to pick up his death certificate.  That death certificate makes his passing final.  I told the mortuary services at the memorial park he buried in that I would come and pick it up this weekend.  I want to go and visit him.

Every time our daughter hits a milestone, I feel happy/sad.  It’s a strange emotion.  I’m so happy that Gracie has reached an important milestone in her development, but at the same time, I’m so sad Benjamin isn’t there to reach it, too.  I just miss him.  I wonder a lot about what he would have been.

Working on the pendants and the necklaces has given me a sense of peace for the first time since before we found out he wasn’t going to survive.  It’s a little piece of him I work on and give to others.  I like that.

And, we’re off….

  • Posted on September 28, 2010 at 5:56 pm

After many years of wanting my own website, I finally created one.  I have been blogging for years and before that, I wrote journals.  I love writing.  I love journals to the point that I have several blank ones, waiting to be filled.  But, my writing stopped on March 23, 2010.  That day, I found out I would lose my son.  I’m using my blog and my new website as an outlet of sorts, to sort through all the heartache, the anger, and the sadness of these past several months.  I also want to write about my IVF experiences and how that changed my views of pregnancy.

I’ve been wanting to also move some of my journal entries from my livejournal account to here so I have an archive that stretches back to 2002, but not sure if I want to even deal with it.  A fresh start might be just what I need and anyone who stumbles upon this site can have that fresh start right along with me.

Time to go… my daughter is squirming for more food.