Grief

It's been said that loss is when we lose hopes and dreams that are core to our existence. Grieving is the process we go through that forces us to let go of old hopes and dreams to get new hopes and dreams that are now obtainable.

Over the past 15 months I've let go of dreams I had for Preslee and myself. Those dreams consist of most people's everyday experiences. I've accepted I'll never hear Preslee speak a sentence. I'll never sign her up for a dance class, preschool, or kindergarten. I'll never have her next to me helping me bake cookies or any other dish in the kitchen. We'll never have a girls night when dad leaves for camping trips, eat popcorn in my bed and watch her favorite movie. I might never even have another little girl to raise. Who knows? I've seen it happen for others in my position. There has been a lot to let go of. I would have never guessed that baking cookies, or taking my daughter to the zoo would be a dream of mine.

I think about the Piano Post often. I've noticed my piano has slowly moved a couple of feet from center stage. I still bump into it, and I still notice it every single day, but there are more days filled with laughter and happiness as I'm able to cope with that piano next to me. For example, I no longer feel that sick feeling in my stomach when I hear the song "Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree" being sung by the primary children in church. It used to bring back difficult images to think about of an experience I had while in the hospital with Preslee. The first few times I quickly ran out of the room, but now I've learned how to handle it. I've noticed I'm not nearly as upset as I was last year to celebrate my Birthday tomorrow without her. Since I've talked to my counselor, I've allowed myself to grieve without feeling guilty. And when it comes, I let it take it's course. Like today, Ledger for the very first time actually enjoyed his bath. And while I watched him kick and flail his little arms in the water I was able to smile through the tears as memories flooded my mind of his older sister. Preslee loved bath time. She used to stand up just to frustrate me. It was one of her favorite games. She loved her bath crayons and would have drawn for hours with them. I've noticed those happy memories are coming a little more often and I'm also allowing them to come more frequently.

Both pics of Preslee January 2010

Things seem to be a little different this time around with Ledger. I've noticed I haven't thought of Ledger too far into the future. It's like my brain doesn't want to make plans for him and then have them come crashing down again. I don't want to experience this pain of letting go again. I'm obsessed with living in the moment and taking everything in. I understand every single day with him is a gift. Ledger is our gift. He definitely nudged that piano a little to left stage when he came into our lives. And I couldn't help share the comment left by childhood piano teacher.

"Ashley, I've been thinking about you all week. At the baby shower, when I saw that you were naming your new little guy Ledger, I knew there was more to it than just a really cute name, but it didn't dawn on me just then. Several days later, I realized what it was. I'm sure you didn't name him Ledger because of this, but it seems to have more meaning with all of the comfort and peace he has brought into your lives. In music, when there are notes written either above or below the 5 main lines that the notes are written on, they are called "Ledger Notes." Little Ledger is helping to move that piano of grief away from center stage for a bit with his beautiful Ledger Notes. Some may think this is a coincidence; I choose not to believe in coincidences."

 
We love you Ledger. Thank you for saving your dad and I. We're grateful that many of those new hopes and dreams we are creating involve you.