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Archive for JJF

What it’s like

April 25th, 2012

I’ve had a lot of people inquire as to why this year is the last year for Team James and Jake. (I don’t think I’ve announced that on this blog, have I? Well, this is the fifth and final year for Team James and Jake.)

After last year’s walk, or maybe even on the drive to the actual walk, I told Brian what I was thinking “just one more year.” I told him that I’d see how I felt during the year and make my decision once the fundraising push for 2012 began.

2012 rolled around and I knew my decision. It was simple.

This was it.

Things are so busy right now. Four kids, a full-time (totally dreamy) business, a husband who works in a different city entirely and who goes to grad school. It’s obvious that time is an issue. Time should be an issue.

What’s not obvious is how hard it is to handle people forgetting.

I get it. It happens. I’ve forgotten about others, I mean, I remember, on many occasions, the raw heartbreak that I once read about, I remember clutching my chest and tears streaming down my face as I read about someone’s loss, someone other than mine.

And then

it happened

to me.

And there’s no way to properly describe what it feels like. Aside from the pain, the heartbreak, the learning how to take each day and RE-learn how to live having lost something you so desperately loved, there’s another aspect you probably don’t think about.

It’s how others feel.

There’s always an initial outpouring and it’s necessary and beautiful and the best thing for a grieving person, no matter how much they try to deny people (*raises hand*)

And then there’s the people, the people who feel completely vested in you. Whether it’s your mother or your sister or a blog reader, whether they’ve met or not, they are there, holding your hand, whether it’s in person or virtual. It’s there and it’s felt and it’s … again … necessary. (and so, so beautiful.)

And life … moves on … and things being to

trickle.

And that’s how it is. That’s how it’s supposed to be, that’s what helps us become stronger and move on.

I like it that way. I like that my deepest moments of despair are reserved for just me or are intimately shared with someone close to me. It doesn’t have to be tears, it can be a look, a simple nod, but it’s there. And it helps.

After losing James and Jake, I shared something with my sister, I said “I can’t bear the thought of them being forgotten.”

And I couldn’t and I still can’t. But I’m trying to reframe that thought. We, as a family, will never, ever forget. But others, they’ve moved on, they’ve shared their piece of their heart with me and it was so beautiful and some of you still do. Some of you donate or walk or share with me when you saw two birds and it made you think of our sweet babies. And some of you, have picked up your loving hearts and shared them with others who needed it. And I … love that.

And so maybe that’s where I’m at. Maybe I know you haven’t forgotten, I mean, maybe I feel at peace with this decision of this being the final year of Team James and Jake because I BELIEVE that you, as a loving human being have given me all that you could give ME and you’re ready to give to someone else who needs you as much as I did.

And Oh my God, that is completely okay with me.

***

And so, if you feel it, donate. If you can and want to, walk with me. But if not? That’s okay with me. Knowing your heart is doing something good for anyone is the best tribute I could possibly ask for when it comes to James and Jake.

June Afternoons – 2012

April 11th, 2012

I don’t know if you guys remember but last year, I created an Etsy shop called June Afternoons. I worked with some of the finest photographers I know to sell prints. The proceeds directly benefited Team James and Jake and The March of Dimes. (I raised over $800. Seriously)

Well, friends, this year is the final year for Team James and Jake. It’s not that we don’t love this day each year, we do with all of our hearts but we just think it’s time to move forward, perhaps onto something else or perhaps just to a day for my family and I to sit and remember and be surrounded by their beautiful spirits. Sometimes life is so busy that we don’t set that time aside, walking each year allows us to do this. Next year we may just to this ourselves.

Because it’s the final year and because I knew I need to something to help me raise money for Team James and Jake (which has raised over $35,000 by the way), I wanted to do something from my heart. Something that I created. Something that YOU could place in yours home to remember that life is so short. So fragile.

So dang beautiful.

This year, June Afternoons is offering something different. Made by me, completely.

Here’s a peek.

$30 from each sign will be donated to The March of Dimes.

My quantities are pretty limited. I didn’t want to make a gazillion signs and have them not sell, so I made 9 (8 are currently available) If they sell, I’ll try to make more. If they don’t. I love them and I’ll keep them. For real. I will.

So, head over, check it out, perhaps help me spread the word?

I would appreciate it so much.

As always, thank you guys, for supporting me.

Four Years

February 26th, 2012

It’s hard to believe it’s been four years since we held James and Jake in our arms. Mostly we are okay, I often think about how I failed them as a Mom the moment they died. How oblivious I was to their suffering and ultimately their death. What was I thinking or doing at that moment? The thought that I wasn’t able to help them transition to their death haunts me.

My job as their Mom was so short, how could I have failed them so greatly in such a short period of time?

We have such a blessed life right now. So chaotic with normal everyday struggles but we have so many beautiful things. Beautiful children who grace us with their love and laughter (and tears and tantrums) each a day. We don’t dwell on what is lost … we just live.

But sometimes, in the dark of the night as I’m drifting to sleep, I wish so hard that I had just checked on those sweet boys in their beds. I envision blue quilts and soft snoring, a gentle nightlight cascading a little bit of light on their perfect faces. I breathe in knowing that this will never be part of our life.

And sometimes, in the morning, as the sun is beginning to rise, I’ll be nursing Clara back to sleep and I’ll just wish that I had experienced this with those boys.

Lately, our life has been so busy that I haven’t even had time to be sad. My mind won’t even go there. But yesterday, after a morning of errands with the kids, dishes, laundry, diapers, naps and feedings, I had to get in the car by myself to go to a store about 25 miles away. I wasn’t one mile from my home when my mind slipped into the reality that it’s been four years.

It hit me so hard.

I just really miss them.

I just wish they were here.

ReadySetGo

June 27th, 2011

e-and-t-

These last few weeks have been incredibly disappointing to me. By the time I wake up Monday morning, Gloom and Doom have arrived, not even giving me a chance to start off on the right foot. Each week I try to break myself free from it and it works, but only briefly. But last Friday, when I was officially diagnosed with strep throat, I thought, “that’s it, I give up.”

And not that I was giving up and hiding underneath the covers and crying and pouting, I was just giving up that I had to accept the bad with the good. I’m always to willing to open my arms up to great opportunities and warm hugs, beautiful things and good health. Well, I can open my arms to a little bit of pain, too.

Lately, there have been so many thunderstorms in my life and even during them, I’d know they were purposeful, I always believe in the brightness shining brighter after the darkness (and even during the darkness.) I just thought maybe this time, I need to stop. Sit in bed, do not work or write or email, allow Brian to bring me Tylenol and rub my feet, browse on Pinterest, eat ice cream, doze off, just accept that sometimes life seems really hard and you feel beat up.

I’m okay with that. Because at least I have the chance to get back up, to let the sun warm my shoulders and to wake up and do everything I can to at least attempt to kick ass every single day.

Sometimes I can’t. Sometimes I won’t. But sometimes, I will. And that will always leave me grateful because at least I have the choice.

March for Babies

May 2nd, 2011

Hi friends. Just popping in real quick before heading out for a newborn session this morning. The walk on Saturday was fantastic, the weather was good, although very windy, the crowd lively and the tears? They fell for both sad and happy reasons. Oh and it’s possible that I fell within the first ten minutes of the walk, but I’m okay.

Team James and Jake raised over $6,000. I am amazing and humbled and so thankful to those of you who supported us this year. (and always!) Oh! I was also quoted here. I LOVE that she called me “happy.”

Here are some photos from the day!

Team-James-and-Jake-2011