With Gratitude.

Dear Babe,

Happy Thanksgiving.

This was always your favorite holiday. If you were here, you would be getting ready with Brett and trying to convince me to go get some Chinese drinks before dinner. We all knew that if your mom said 3:00 PM she really meant 6:00 PM and you and Brett relished that time to drink mai tais and zombies and scorpion bowls. Vanessa and I would complain but we would go. Because that's what you do when you're in love and you want to make them as happy as they make you.

I'm not going to lie to you, I'm finding it very hard to be in the holiday spirit this year. I can't believe how quickly I've gotten to the point that I've been dreading. Will everyone be extra cheerful and emit a joy that I just can't muster? Will everyone be hushed and ever watchful of me, waiting for me to dissolve? Will everyone go on as if nothing had ever happened? I'm not sure what would be worse. Your absence will be palpable, a physical weight that I will carry with me. Will I want anyone to sit next to me, or will I let the weight of your absence have a physical mark as well? An empty seat to symbolize where you should be.

I don't have many expectations of myself this year. In fact, if I manage to make it to 2015 with no more grey hairs, wrinkles, or mental breakdowns, I will consider myself a success. You would cheer for me, I'm sure. I debated boycotting Thanksgiving altogether. Just make an excuse and hide in my house with Vera and wake up tomorrow and start again. No one would question me. I mean, how do you tell a 31 year old widow that she has to do anything? You can't or else you're an asshole. I could totally do it. The problem with that, though, is that I'm not a quitter. And I'm not someone that hides from things that scare me (except fish but you knew that about me going in). And you weren't either. And I can picture what you would say if you were here.

"Are you really going to stay under the covers on the best food day of the year?" Just like that, eyebrows furrowed and that righteous smirk on your lips.

"I don't want to go and be happy without you," I would say with the blankets halfway over my face.

You would pull the blankets down, gently but firmly. And then you would hold out your hand and I would begrudgingly take it and sit up. "Go be with your family," you would say. "Go eat and let them hug you and laugh with them and watch football. Look on the bright side."

You were always more practical than me. You kept me rooted in the present when I let myself fly away into the clouds. You never let me go too far into the dark and stormy ones. I know you're right, that I should be looking at the bright side. Looking at all of things that I still have when so many others have so much less. So that is how I will get through today. And the smile on my face will be real. Because if I think about it, truly reflect, there is so much gratitude to hold in my heart.

I am grateful that I was able to say that you were mine for 5 years, 7 months, and 28 days. They were the happiest days that I've lived so far in my life.

I am grateful that I was loved by a man that raised me up to be a better woman in every way.

I am grateful for your family and for my family. And how they became our family. What amazing human beings we got in our tribe.

I am grateful that I can conjure the color of your eyes without a thought. They were so warm and sparkled with life.

I am grateful that you and I have the best friends possible. Funny and caring and loving and amazing.

I am grateful that I am strong, and healthy, and youthful, and resilient.

I am grateful that so much of that is because of you.

I am grateful that I am alive today and able to tell everyone I love how much they mean to me.

I am grateful that I get the opportunity to live.

So I guess to sum it up, Babe, you were right. Surprise. It can happen. Looking on the bright side isn't always so bad. So I'll smile and laugh and eat on the best food day of the year. And I will watch football. I might not understand all of it, but I will watch it. And I will think of you and be thankful for you always.

With Gratitude and Love. Always Love.

Amanda

An Infinite Number of Tomorrows.

Dear Babe,

Four months ago today, I spoke with you. Not in my mind, which is where I find you these days, but in this actual world, concrete and true. Although I didn't realize it at the time, it was final. No negotiations or do-overs - our time was over and those last words were borrowed. I wonder if you knew, somewhere inside your heart that bled for me, that you would be leaving. When you left the house that day, did you linger in our foyer and memorize everything to take with you to the world beyond?

I've had to stop myself from wondering - the wondering leaves me twisted and consumed by a puzzle that will never be solved. As the inevitable clock puts more space between where we ended and my new life began, I find myself reflecting on what I thought was important. After all, wishes can change once one walks to the edge to find there is not an infinite number of tomorrows.

I've come to realize that there are no prizes and no medals handed out when you transition between this life and whatever comes next (unless you were the recipient of the Best New Angel award and somehow forgot to tell me about it). There are certainly no awards here. There are wisps of ribbon with one-dimensional attributes. Husband. Brother. Son. Grandson. Nephew. Though those are accurate representations of certain roles you played, there is nothing there that speaks to your soul. There are no awards for Most Hours Spent At Work or Dying with the Most Money in Your Bank Account or Fastest Car That Cost the Most. If you were to receive awards upon your departure, Babe, you would've received Best Cuddling Nook. Or Most Likely to Hoard Cats. Or Quencher of All Fears. Or Creator of the Home of Dreams. I would cheer for each one and shower you with roses and kisses and whatever the fuck else award winners receive and I would sing your victory as you crossed into the abyss.

Now I find myself uninterested in the recognition that I once would clamor for. I always needed more. More money, more clothes, more opportunities, more romance, more excitement. Now the only more I find myself desiring is time. More time. But I know that cannot be and so I settle for all of the mores that make up a life. More laughter. More embraces. More kindness. More experience. More truth. Losing you has snatched me out of the tomorrow and forced me to be ever present, living moment to moment. Some moments are almost unbearable. Some moments bring an almost otherworldly rapture. All are fleeting and reflected upon as I propel from one to the next.

I'm used to yearning for you, and used to the melancholy that hovers in wait. At first I thought those feelings would lead to my destruction. Now I know that I am an inferno and all of the yearning and melancholy and missing and despair have become the fuel that has left me indestructible. I wear them like badges as I head from one decision to another. You would be proud of me, I think. You used to tease me about the trepidation that would accompany any choice I made. What would people think? Would I be judged? Would this make others happy? Instead of What will I think? Will I judge myself? Will this make me happy? I only have a couple of rules for myself now. When making a decision, I ask myself:

Is this what I want?

Is this healthy for me?

Will I be harming anyone?

If all answers check out, I forge ahead. No fear. There is no time for it. At the end of my life, I will not receive an award for Worried Most About What Others Thought. Those that loved me will give out their own awards. And they will sing my victory song as they send me off. Until then I will navigate through these waters until I find the reason I am here. And until then I will love you, and miss you, and honor you with my life.

Love,

Amanda

Three.

Dear Babe,

It's been three months since you were here. Three months since I last woke up in your arms. Three months since life as I knew it was taken away and replaced with something completely different - in the blink of an eye. The blink of any eye. Such a trite saying that you never really think about. But that's how it happened. I arrived at the hospital three months ago knowing exactly who I was - your wife - and I blinked and you were gone. Just like that. Just like that the path of our life together diverged and you were on one side and I on the other.

I will never get to touch you again. I will never get to hear you talk to me again. I will never wake up beside your warmth again. I will never create life with you. I will never hear you call me sweetie, or eat one of your lovingly made breakfasts, or dance with you in the kitchen again. This is just a small sample of all of the never agains that I have to come to terms with.

Sometimes I get so enraged that I feel like I will implode and be reduced to a puddle of screams and tears and anxiety. Sometimes I feel like I am choking on the failed hopes and dreams that I had for us. I can't breathe until I close my eyes and conjure you up. "Shhhhhhhh," you say, just like you used to when I was scared or anxious or worked up. "Shhhhhhh and breathe and look around. Everything is okay. You are okay." And then I wipe away the tears like you did. And I breathe. And I get up. I won't fail you; I refuse.

Sometimes I feel so lonely that I can't remember what it ever felt like to have you there. Sometimes I feel like I've never been anything but alone. I lay in bed and reach out to where you should be and my fingertips turn to icicles from the isolation. I feel homesick for you as I lay my head down to sleep. You're there but you're not. I sit up in the middle of the night expecting to hear you breathing but all I hear is the fan that you hated that I kept on. I pray that I will find love again so I can feel the beauty of true partnership I've been missing since you've been gone. I also can't imagine ever giving that much of my heart to anyone that isn't you. How could I? You were my forever.

Sometimes I'm angry with you. I feel bad even saying it. How can I be angry with someone who isn't even here? I think back to one of the times when I felt so unworthy; I couldn't even give you the one thing my body was supposed to give you naturally. Oh how I cried and asked you if you would leave me if I couldn't give you babies. And then you cried. You cried and told me that you loved me always and that we made our own family. And you would never leave me. But then you did. And you never were a liar but that was the biggest lie ever told, you just didn't know it. When I saw you in the hospital I begged you. Pleaded. "Please please please please. Stay with me." But you left anyway. I know you didn't want to, but that doesn't change the fact that I was left behind.

Sometimes I feel so grateful that I'm sure I was touched by the hand of God. Not always and not for long periods of time but every once in awhile I feel so incredibly lucky that I'm sure there is a higher power. So many never get to bask in the unconditional love that we made together. So many never get to see their best selves reflected in their lover's eyes. So many never get the gift of feeling truly at peace - even if it's fleeting, even if it cannot stay. I got to look into the eyes of my very own guardian angel and for that I will be forever blessed. You gave me that. You were my blessing.

Sometimes I feel so strong that I think there's nothing in this world that I cannot do. In the mornings, on the bad days, when I stare off and contemplate not taking a step - not doing one damn thing - I do it anyway. It seems almost ridiculous that the world is still moving - that minutes continue to turn to hours which turn to days and then weeks and now even months. It's pure madness. But I launch myself into it - sometimes I even revel in it. If I can survive losing you, I can survive anything. There is nothing that the universe can do that it has not already done by taking you away. I find solace in that. And hope. And sometimes even joy. Joy that I have loved and been loved and can find my way through the darkness. Sometimes with humor. Sometimes with grace. Always with love.

Ever thine.
Ever mine.
Ever ours.

Love,

Amanda

Things I Miss - Your Hands

Dear Babe,

Your hands didn't just hold my heart.

They were my favorite physical representation of you. Even now, I can still close my eyes and conjure up images of them. Still and then moving, clean but a little dirty. All of it. They were undeniably yours; just as loving and warm and expressive as you were. Both rough and smooth at once. Strong and capable, they provided endless stability and a straight line right to your heart.

Your fingers were long and perfect for entwining with mine. They were the perfect length for brushing the hair out of my eyes or wiping away an errant eyelash or tear. Your palms would sometimes be calloused from work but they never seemed to tug on my skin. Maybe I'm remembering things more sweetly in hindsight but I don't recall a time when I relished anything more than your touch.

I remember the rush of flutters the first time you held my hand.

I remember the calculation of how you held a dart in your hand. Fingers wrapped artfully around the metal; when you released, it was like watching a bullet meeting its target - fast but with purpose.

I remember the steadiness of your hand as you signed the papers that gave us our home.

I remember the dust and dirt and wounds that covered them when building our home into what it is now. Those hands brought the sleepy house out of the past and into our dreams for the future.

I remember the cool touch of your palms against my forehead when I was sick. Sometimes we would lay like that for hours; you outstretched across the bed, me curled into you, head in your with your hands against my head. You said your fingers would take the sick out of me and put it into you. Like a child I believed. Like a child your hands were all that could make me feel better.

I remember the juxtaposition of the cool of metal with the warmth of your soul as you placed the ring on my finger that meant I was promised to you (as if I could have been promised to anyone else - as if there was any greater promise than our love). You shook slightly and I was tickled that you could still be nervous after so long - after love and our cats and a house and our dreams.

I remember how you gripped my hand tightly at the end of the aisle as we said our vows. They were sweating and you wiped your thumb across the back of my own hand to transfer some of the dampness. I suppressed my laughter as I looked into your eyes and they begged me with a twinkle not to give you away. After we exchanged rings and had walked past our loved ones as husband and wife, you looked down at your hand trying to absorb the magnitude of what the metal meant.

I remember reaching out for your hand as I slumped to the floor after the thousandth negative pregnancy test. You always held me up; you never would let me bear the weight by myself. I imagined your hands touching my pregnant stomach. I imagined your hands cradling a crying newborn. I imagined your hands teaching our son how to dribble a basketball, how to swing a bat, how to shoot a dart. I still do. I wonder if I ever will stop.

I remember the feeling of your hand in mine when I woke up on the last day. I never liked to cuddle when sleeping - it made me feel suffocated - but I smiled to myself because you always found a way to sneak a snuggle in. The alarm went off but you kept sleeping and I gently bit the knuckle of your middle finger to wake you up. Your eyes flew open and you acted mad but then started tickling me until I couldn't breathe.

I remember my eyes catching on your hands in the hospital room, after you were gone. They weren't yours anymore. They weren't mine. Standing there, everything was the same - every scar, down to the very last hair. Identical. In that moment I could rattle off any simple fact about you - you always kept Juicy Fruit in your pocket, you knew the words to every Peter Cetera song, you would travel for hours for the perfect margarita - but I couldn't remember what your touch felt like. My first panic attack was when I feared I would never remember again.

One of the best things that has happened since I lost you was when I woke up remembering your hands and your warmth. It may sound silly, even trivial, in the myriad of things that made you my Tom that I could remember instead.. But I had to write it down. There was nothing more joyful than your tickles. There was nothing more romantic than those sweaty palms on June 16th. There was nothing stronger than our hands joined in unity. Because there was nothing safer than my heart being in your hands.

Love,

Amanda

Going to the Chapel

Dear Babe,

I remember the peace that overcame me as I walked down the aisle toward you.

The months leading up to our wedding day were a flurry of house projects and tulle. It was a whirlwind that left both of us reeling at times. We clutched each other for dear life through a storm of nails, insulation, fabric flowers, and catering. We questioned ourselves often. We dreamed of disappearing and coming home married. Elope, elope, elope. We almost did, until the day you told me that we would both regret it if our families and friends weren’t there to witness it.

I loved you so much in that moment. Not that there was ever a moment of me not loving you; but in that moment, I saw how willing you were to try to make me happy. The wedding was always my dream. The marriage was our dream. But you let me have both. That was you. That was what you did.

In the days leading up to the wedding, I found myself crying a lot. There was so much emotion welling up inside me; I could feel it in my chest. Physical symptoms of a love that I never dreamed that I would have. I wrote my new name-to-be everywhere. In my day planner, on receipts, even on my mother’s refrigerator door. We had been together, known each, for so long, my love, that I almost couldn’t believe our time had really and truly come. I looked forward to being your wife more than you could ever know. You made my heart sing songs of a future rooted in truth and kindness; I was never scared when by your side.

Two nights before our wedding, the last night we spent together before the ceremony, I thought back to when I was a nineteen year old girl who had just met you. I stayed awake for hours just going through our story in my mind. You were sleeping soundly – you always did – and didn’t wake up even though I tried to wake you. Instead, I watched you sleeping. You looked like a boy, so peaceful and content. I remember hoping it was me that urged the corners of your sleepy lips into a smile. I snuggled into you and inhaled the smell of my future. I whispered my new name out loud, trying it on. “Mrs. Valentine.” I fell asleep with my hand in yours.

I can’t quite articulate (surprising, I know) my feelings as the chapel doors opened and I saw you standing at the other end of the aisle. It can only be described as coming home. I saw ahead of me everything that my life had led up to and all that lay ahead. We locked eyes and I saw the best version of myself in your eyes. And I knew you were my home, my sanctuary, and my future.

If I had known what would happen, I would have rushed up the aisle to you so we didn’t have to waste one single moment. I was blessed to have you as my husband for two years, one month, and 8 days.  It was the honor of my life to join you in the dance of our marriage. It was everything that has been or ever will be.

When my time comes, I imagine that I will enter Heaven through those chapel doors and you will be standing at the end of the aisle waiting, once again, to take my hand in yours.

Love,

Amanda

In Dreams

Dear Babe,

I dreamed of you again last night.

You've been visiting me in my sleep for the past couple of weeks and it's been increasing over the last few days. At first the dreams made me sad because I woke up not knowing what was real, not knowing where dreams ended and life without you began. Now I look forward to them; to seeing you and hearing your voice and feeling you close by. I look forward to sleep these days - not as an escape from life, you see, but rather as an opportunity to include you in this new life I'm beginning.

Some dreams allow me to see you and to drink in your face; others, like the one last night, I only get to hear your voice. It's funny how clearly I can hear you in this dream world - the voice is unmistakably yours. Down to the syllable, I can hear you just as well as I used to when you were sitting right next to me. I even correct your grammar in my dreams. It seems that even when sleeping, I can't kick the habits that used to drive you bonkers. Sorry, my love.

Last night I dreamed that I couldn't find you and I dialed your number. You answered right away. I asked you where you were, where you went, why you weren't with me anymore. "I'm here," you said. "I'm not with you but I'm here." In my dream you had left me to be with another but you wouldn't name her. "I can't be with you but I'm still with you." I yelled at you then, begging you to stop speaking in rhymes. You told me that you had to go but I wouldn't let you hang up. Instead I began reciting mundane activities, small victories I had earned:

"Babe, I brought the mattress outside by myself!"

"Atticus and Vera are best friends, you should see how they play!"

"I made it through a day at work without crying, without breaking down!"

"I've been wearing your socks again, but not your favorite ones, only the ones you said were girly colors!"

You laughed - oh, how it sounded like perfect music! I got to hear that laugh that I've been longing to hear for so long now. I kept going, sputtering pure nonsense, knowing somehow in my heart that I didn't have you much longer. "I have to go, I have to go, I have to go." You were firm but I heard the softness in your voice - you didn't want to leave me just as much as I didn't want you to go.

As soon as I knew you had hung up, I woke up to my alarm. I had tears on my cheeks but a smile on my lips. I replayed our conversation in my mind for a few minutes before turning on the light. Turning on the light meant that it was over and - even now - that transition between my dreamworld with you and real life as I know it is hard.

I find myself during waking hours thinking of things that I want to say to you when I see you again during the night. Things that I want. Things that I hope for. Things that I want you to know. Things that I hope will fly on the wings of my dreams and find their way to you, beyond the realm of the living.

Babe, I still sleep in your favorite Patriots t-shirt.

Babe, I never keep my clothes on the floor by the laundry basket anymore.

Babe, there are more people on this Earth that love us than I ever dreamed possible.

Babe, I'm working on the house, trying to make it look as good as we hoped when we first signed those papers. I will never give up on it.

Babe, I am getting stronger every day. I think you would be proud of me.

Babe, I love you every day.

Babe, I will be okay.

Until the next moon rises and I see you again,

Amanda

Do You Remember? - Camping with Bears

Dear Babe,

Do you remember our first camping trip? How could you not? It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. You should be proud in the first place that you got me to camp. Me, the girl of pink and bows and hot showers and down pillows, sleeping on the ground in a tent!I remember how you asked me if I would camp with you. You were uncharacteristically quiet. You started by telling me how you loved a campsite in New Hampshire that had a lake that was cleaned all the time so I wouldn't have to be scared of the fish. Then you asked me what I was doing that weekend. Then you asked if I would go.

We checked into the campsite and I immediately took note of the signs everywhere warning of bears. "Babe, come read this," I shouted as you were unpacking the car. You just laughed. I knew you were too stubborn to believe that a bear would mess with you and I gave up on you coming to read the sign. Instead, I read the sign to you.

WARNING - BEARS

What to Do In Case of  A Bear Sighting:

Speak in LOUD VOICES and slowly back away. DO NOT RUN.

NO FOOD IN TENTS.

The day was hot and we drank beers by the beach listening to the children of the other campsites play and splash. We held hands the entire time, separating only when a bathroom break or new beer was needed. We hardly talked but I remember specifically noting how much deeper I was falling in love with you. This will never end, I remember thinking. Your eyes were closed when I had that thought and I traced your face slowly with the edge of my fingertips, startling you. You almost fell off your beach chair and I laughed until my stomach hurt.

That night we sat by the fire at our campsite and talked about our dreams for the future. Buying a house was at the top of our list. You were afraid of the commitment. You were afraid of losing it somehow. You were afraid that it was too big of a dream. You had never dreamed of things like that, you said. Before me, you never thought of things like buying a house or getting married or having children. You said I changed that. You said I changed you. I told you that you I had never imagined having a relationship or a marriage that could last. I never imagined feeling beautiful in my own skin. I never imagined feeling so loved, so protected. You changed that. You changed me.

We went to sleep long after the rest of the campground did. Our fire was the last to be put out. We both fell asleep quickly in each others arms, in the sleeping bag. I awoke to crunching outside the tent. And snorting. Something big was out there. And it was eating all our food. I shook you so hard and you didn't wake up. You were always such a sound sleeper. I pinched you as hard as I could and you woke up with a start. I put my finger over your lips and whispered fiercely, "Beeeeeaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"

You sat up and nervously whispered if I remembered what the sign had suggested we do. I told you if it came any closer I was going to MacGyver it and slit a hole in the back of the tent and back out slowly and get to the car. You laughed and snorted. We were supposed to be quiet. I almost peed my pants. After a few minutes of listening and me crying, you decided that sleep was more important than fear and you quickly fell back to sleep. I hid under the covers with my head burrowed in your nook and tried to sleep. After awhile the noises outside the tent stopped.

In the morning, we emerged from our tent to find that every piece of food had been eaten. Except your spicy Fritos. You were so proud. "Bears don't like spice!" you exclaimed as if that was why you bought them. A person came over from the campsite across from ours. "That was the biggest raccoon I've ever seen!!"

A raccoon? You and I just looked at each other and burst out laughing. I called my sister, ready to go home, convinced it had been a bear. You begged me to stay and I relented. I'm so glad I did because we drove to the Saco river and brought the cooler. You helped me down the hill and then we climbed over rocks until we perched upon a boulder in the middle of the river.

We spent the day there. Some time was spent talking. Some time was spent splashing in the water that pooled around the rocks. The sun was so bright that we looked like we were shining. And maybe we were, from the inside out. There was no talk of responsibilities or work or bills or anything that wasn't pleasant. We were all about joy that day. We were young and in love and so very, very content. I thought my heart would burst. If I close my eyes now, I can still smell the air that day and hear the water splash against the rocks. I can still feel my heart almost bursting.

These are the memories that are getting me through. These are the things that matter. This is what life is; what love is.

I'll never forget.

Love,

Amanda

Two Months

Dear Babe,

It has been two months. Sixty-two days. One thousand four hundred and eighty-eight hours. Too many minutes. Impossible seconds. It feels like I just woke up yesterday next to you. It also feels like I haven't heard your voice in years. It seems strange to me that time has kept passing. Days have been changing with no regard for the fact that you're not changing with them. The world has ushered in another season and yet you are forever in summer. It will never be Autumn for you again. Your winter clothes will never be brought out. You always hated the cold.

So much has changed in the wake of losing you. So much has remained stubbornly the same. Maybe one day I will relearn how not to contradict myself but as of now my life is one walking contradiction. Some days I wake up smiling and some days I wish I could hide under the covers with Orange. They all know you're gone. Orange, Big Black, Little Black, Vera, Atticus. Our whole little zoo. They are acutely aware of your absence and still actively seek you out. I remember after some nights of you drinking you would get emotional thinking about how Orange and Black were getting old. Sometimes you even cried. We would declare our animals off limits to Heaven. We would declare each other off limits to Heaven, too. How silly we were then. And so in love. And young. And healthy. With everything waiting for us ahead.

Sometimes I think about what I would choose if the future could be told. If I could've known before I lost you that you were going to depart - would I change anything? Everything? Nothing at all? If I knew, I think I would stare at you for one whole day, just memorizing you to my soul. Or maybe I would ask you to read to me  like you would when I was sick. I would bottle your words so I would have them on days like this when I would give my soul to hear you talk to me. Perhaps I would lay for hours in bed with your arms wrapped around me so I could learn how to give the hugs that you did. Did you know that I felt like my heart was safe every time I was in your arms? I think one of my favorite things would be thanking you for everything.

Thank you for accepting me exactly how I am.

Thank you for making me feel beautiful every single day.

Thank you for making me laugh so hard that I couldn't stop smiling.

Thank you for cooking the best grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Thank you for loving my family.

Thank you for always knowing how to scare away the monsters under the bed.

Thank you for your kisses.

Thank you for giving me butterflies Every. Single. Day.

Thank you for giving me the strength to get through these past two months of hell.

I don't think I would want to know. I don't think I would want to know what was coming. Because I would try in vain to stop it.and I would've ended up wasting the last seconds. The last moments of you being you. The last moments of us being us. Those last moments of you being here. Those moments give me my legs when I feel too weak to move on.

I miss you every minute. I love you every second.

Love,

Amanda

The Mourning of What Never Was

Dear Babe,

This is a hard one. Not that any of these, any of this, has been easy, but it's hard for me to even start writing this to you without tears streaming down my face.

Babe, I am so sorry I couldn't give you the babies we wanted so desperately. I have never been more sorry than for the fact that there are no physical reminders of the love that you and I shared, that there are no faces I can look into and see your light and mine mixed together. We dreamed of them often, we tried for them hard. We named them and gave them personalities and made our plans for them, Josephine and Thomas, ours until the end.

During the last failed treatment, which we could have never imagined would be the last, I broke down in the office. Do you remember how hard I cried? I cried so hard and so much and so long that you were afraid. I asked you if I you thought I couldn't get pregnant because I wouldn't be a good mother. And that's when you started crying, too. You sat down on the floor with me and you wrapped your arms around me, my head in the cuddling nook of your head and shoulder. We were so close that I could feel your tears merge with mine and  our pulses regulate until they were one steady rhythm. You told me it wouldn't be possible for me to not be a good mother. Just like breathing, you said, it would be that natural to me.

You told me that I would be the kind of mother that would sing her babies to sleep. You said I would make up songs that our babies would ask for by name that you would never be able to replicate when it was your turn to put them to bed. You said I would be the best storyteller and would do all the perfect voices. You said I would greet them with a smile every day, even if I was sad or mad or stressed or sick. You said I would be the best snuggler and would always let them stay awake for one more book. You said I would go to all of their games and recitals and be in the front row cheering for them. You said I would always make sure they knew they were loved. You said they would grow up strong and proud that I was their mother.

In all of my sorrow, I couldn't see it. Couldn't see the truth of what you were saying. I could only focus on what I did wrong to make our dream so unreachable. I never thought that it was just bad luck or maybe somehow the universe knew that you wouldn't be here too much longer and knew I couldn't bear to do it alone. I never realized that only a few short months later I would be willing to trade anything just for you, just to have you by my side. Our love would've been enough - more than enough. But there is something I need you to know, wherever you are.

It would have been impossible for you to not be a good father. You would have been the kind of father that made jokes while changing diapers. You would have been the one the kids were waiting for at the front door. You would have been the father that was the best at healing boo-boos. You would have been the father that made pancakes look like dinosaurs and would put an extra snack in their lunches. You would never get upset that there were toys left on the floor or that the bedrooms weren't clean. You would stay in the backyard past dark throwing balls and playing catch and teaching them how to shoot a basketball. You would have the funny jokes. You would coach the team. You would teach them math sooooo patiently after I gave up. You would teach them how to appreciate a good belly laugh.

You would hold their hands. You would give them kisses right on the mouth because they made you just that happy. You would teach him how to be a man and you would teach her how a real man treats a woman. You would let them cry. And when they cried you would sit down on the floor with them and wrap your arms around them. And your tears would merge with theirs. And you still would have the best cuddling nook.

Love,

Amanda

The Ones You Left Behind

Dear Babe,

It wasn't just me, you know. There were others left behind. People have been so gentle and tender with me, so very accommodating, that I didn't notice their pain until recently. I'm not the only soul walking around with a hole where you used to be. Part of me was surprised. I thought it was me and me alone who was bleeding out. Then there was the other part of me, the part so in tune to every aspect of you, that could see it plain as day. You were so full of love and life - it wouldn't make sense for me to be the only broken one.

I find myself both comforted and saddened by their pain. It would be easier to handle (I think) if it was my sorrow alone that I had to chronicle and be aware of. But it's everyone. From your family to my family to our friends, both shared and our own. Neighbors and colleagues and the people at our grocery store that you would joke around with. The delivery man from the pizza shop, the gas station attendant. Your dart team. Other dart teams. Contractors who worked at our house. All of these people knew you. All of these people had your light radiated upon them for at least a moment. Some of us lucky ones had more than just a moment. I had the most. Lucky, lucky me.

In the days - weeks now - since your death (I hate that word the most since it is so unforgiving and permanent) I have come to know you in the eyes of others. That has been one of my greatest joys in this land of darkness I am navigating through. I knew that you hung the moon and stars but it warms me to know that others knew it, too. I've heard stories - touching, hilarious...and some that were cringe-inducing - and mentally stored them away to reflect on later. Those are stories that you would have told me over the years. Stories that I never got to hear on lazy days with wine and the animals or as we drove in the car.

Those who knew and loved you are mourning in their own ways. Some with me and some on their own. Mostly a little of both. There are those that reach out to me even more than they did before and then there are those who have withdrawn from me, unable to face me alone as Amanda, instead of Amanda and Tom. I understand both. There is no right way to grieve and believe me, if there was, I would certainly be following those rules. Some have dove headfirst into life ahead - Life Without Tom - and some tread in the memories they shared with you, unable to see the future before them. I don't know yet where I fall. Somewhere in between the mountains of grief and the eternal skies of future life. We miss you. That's all I know for sure.

You have been honored. Whether through stories or memorials or picture boards or tattoos (I got one for you - our wedding poem which rings true just as much today as the day I promised to be yours forever) or memorializing you through the name of your dart team. Everyone carries a piece of you with them. We will never let your light burn out. We will never let your face fade from memory. We will never lose your name on our lips.

You will live forever in us and through us.

Love,

Amanda

The Spot

Dear Babe,

I drive by it every day now. The spot. That's what I call it. For weeks I couldn't bear to go past it and would beg anyone I was driving with to please take a detour. Even if it took extra time. Even if it didn't make sense. I couldn't go past where I lost you (why do people call it losing someone as if I overlooked where you were like a set of keys or my favorite earrings?). I heard your family was going to put a memorial there. I wanted so badly to lay a stake in the ground - YOU WERE HERE MY LOVE - but at the end just couldn't relegate you to a lonely cross in a median.

When I finally felt strong enough (another ridiculous word - strong - that's what they call it when you manage to make it through the day still breathing) I was in the car with Nicole and asked her to point it out. I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe some sort of villainous looking asphalt splayed with wreckage and rubble. Something that matched the way I felt inside. Something sinister. Instead, it was just a harmless patch of median with tall grass. A flattened and dark car sized patch was the only proof that you were ever there.

It took my breath away for a moment. Right there in that spot my life as I knew it ended when you lost control. How could people drive by it so easily? Without a thought or idea that such a bright light dimmed there? I got irrationally angry; you know how I can be. You always teased me for getting so worked up. I decided then and there that I would never drive by again. Fuck that. Fuck the median and fuck the world and fuck that stupid building right across with the star that lights up at Christmas time. I would forever navigate around it. And for a bit of time that worked. I would take backroads until I passed THE SPOT and then would get on the highway. I felt triumphant. I had the control now. It was silly, but I'm a silly girl. That was one of your favorite parts of me.

When I made the decision that I was ready to go back to work, I realized that I would have to overcome my fear of it. Driving to Cambridge every day just doesn't afford the luxury of backroads. I thought about what you would say if you were here. You were always the one who gave me my brave - I was always my strongest when with you. And I thought about how you would put your arm around me and laugh at my hesitation - never to tease but to steady my nerves. "What are you so scared of?" you would say. "You got this. I'm not there, I'm right here."

And so two days before I went back to work, I got into our car and buckled up and looked at myself in the rearview mirror. "You got this," I told myself. I checked to make sure your good luck charm, your Red Sox bobble head (the one I tried to throw away every day) was still dangling with the air fresheners. And then I drove. I drove past it. The first time I had to get off at the next exit and I just cried for what seemed like years but must've only been minutes. And then I drove by again.

I drove back and forth past the spot for an hour, talking to you and blowing kisses and touching the bobble head when I didn't think I could do it. I drove by it until my tears were dried on my face and I was able to laugh at the impossibility of the situation. And I felt you next to me. Riding next to me, hand in mine, just like it used to be. And I knew I was ready. So I drove home and hugged Vera and called it a win.

The first few times driving by, I would hold my breath as I was approaching. I knew I could do it but I just kept expecting something horrible to happen. Nothing ever did. I just touched my lips to send you a kiss to Heaven. Today I was driving to work alone and was listening to music and singing my heart out when I realized that I had driven by the spot without noticing. I immediately started to cry as if I had done something wrong but then I heard you in my head again. That amazing laughter that always stopped my pain. You would be proud of me, I decided. You would say, "Silly girl, you could've done that all along." And then I drove the rest of the way with a smile on my face.

Love,

Amanda

Dear Babe 9/9/14

Dear Babe,

Sometimes I miss you so much that I can’t breathe. I wait in anticipation during the day the way I used to, only to remember that you won’t be home to greet me. Instead of a call up the stairs for my first hug of the evening, I walk into an empty foyer – except for the mail that is still callously sent for you. How could anyone not know you’re no longer here? Vera greets me with wide eyes – she still knows that something is wrong and yet she can’t help but put her paws on me with joy. She and the boys are the only living reminders I have of you.

There are days I find myself waiting, always. Looking forward to something I can’t name. Imagining that the day will come when you’ll be back. When I’ll hear the familiar sound of your car pulling up and you sitting in it for just a moment longer to finish listening to your song. If I close my eyes right now I can hear it. If I close my eyes right now I can see your car pulling up in front of the house. If I close my eyes right now I can feel your smile on me when you walk in the door. I can hear your voice greet the animals. I can smell your shirt. I can still reach out to you and touch you sleeping next to me. Those are the days that I love because I can still imagine you haven’t left.

Then there are the other days. Days when I can’t remember what it ever felt like to have you holding my heart. Days that it seems I’ve never been anything but alone. I stand in your closet and touch every shirt one by one, tracing every outline and every seam, just to prove that you were here. Those are the days I can see you staring back at me from the pictures but cannot pinpoint the shade of your eyes. Days where I am so afraid of forgetting the sound of your voice that I lock myself in the bathroom and listen to the voicemails I have saved on my old phone. Even the angry ones. Even the ones telling me not to spend money. Even the ones that make me cry, the ones that say “I’ll be home soon.” But you won’t. I’m perpetually afraid of losing those voicemails and keep the old phone safely stowed away like it was made of diamonds.

I wonder what you would think of me if you were here. Am I doing this right? Am I honoring you well? Would you even know me now? It’s only been seven weeks but I can’t quite recall who I was before this. I’m not sure if the things I say or the things I do now are similar to choices I would make if you were here. I’m certainly less uptight but much more jaded.I don’t laugh as easily but when I do, it’s fuller and richer. I don’t believe in fairytales anymore (do you remember we were like The Princess Bride?) but I do believe more in the kindness of the human spirit. It’s hard for me to listen to the songs we loved but –oh my dear- I’d give the world to be dancing with you again in the kitchen.

I would take years off my life to wake up with you one more time. If I had had known on that morning that it was the last time I would see your face. I would’ve traced each curve and freckle and dimple and etched them into my brain. I would’ve spent extra time cuddling instead of the usual five minutes before hurrying to work. I would’ve nestled my head in the nook of your arm like I always loved to do and I would inhale your familiar scent that I am racking my brain to conjure right now. I would’ve told you how perfect you were and how there was no need to ever be insecure. I would’ve said “Thank you for loving me so completely” instead of just “I love you.”

If I had known that it was the last morning, I would’ve packed you a lunch and written a note and drawn flowers all over it – and I wouldn’t care if the guys at work made fun of you. I would’ve called you during lunch just because. When you called to say you were going out after work, I would’ve begged you to come straight home to me. I would’ve begged you to stay with me. I would’ve said “Please don’t leave me, I can’t do this without you.”

But instead here I am, and there you are. And missing you isn’t even an appropriate phrase for the constant work I am doing just to tread water. I fear both never getting over this and getting over this. But I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a moment or harsh word or loving embrace or hope that didn’t come true. Because you were my hope. And you did come true. And I will do this for you. And I will love you forever. 

Amanda

Joyeux anniversaire à moi!

That is one of the three sentences I can still string together en francais thanks to four years of French class. Happy birthday to me! I can also say "Happy Birthday to you!" and "What time is it?" (Quelle heure est-il?. BAM!). Anywho, I had the day off work today and I was thinking about turning thirty-one (trent et UN - my favorite number to say) and the past year(s) and my hopes for this upcoming year. And 98% of my hopes for the year (the other 2% include getting a new car and convincing Tom to put up a fence) involve getting healthy and getting pregnant.

So in honor of my obsessions goals for my next trip around the sun, here are some things I hope to accomplish:

1) Lose the 40 lbs it will take to further IF treatments.

2) Complete a 5K. Run, walk, or crawl (or all three). Just get me over the finish line.

3) Stop cursing so fucking much.

4) Find a workout I love and OWN IT.

5) Volunteer.

6) Learn to sew. My mom got me a really nice sewing machine two Christmases ago and it is still sitting in its pretty box in its pretty corner.

7) Read (or reread) a classic book every month. First up, the March sisters!

8) Go see Monet again at the MOFA.

9) Ride a rollercoaster.

10) Try a new cuisine.

11) Stop equating emotions with food.

12) Spend more time laughing.

13) Enjoy the little things...

...and hopefully have a baby that looks like this:

(that's me!!)

Thank God for Three Day Weekends!

Is it Friday yet?

Seriously, I've been back to work since the dawn of time for half a day and already I'm ready for a vacation! Good thing I took off Monday - Wednesday next week.

In other, and less complainy, news, this Body by Vi Challenge is no joke!! Check this out:

It's a small step in the long journey ahead but you know what? I will TAKE it! With bells on!! Anything to get me closer to a baby. I was especially proud of the loss because the first week was kind of hard. Drinking two of your meals per day isn't necessarily easy and takes a lot of fucking getting used to  is an adjustment. That being said, week #1 is in the record books and today starts week 2. Technically yesterday was supposed to start Week 2 but it was Memorial Day and my sister made yummy pasta salad and grilled deliciousness.

The weekend was pretty low key. Some cleaning, some laziness, some time spent playing with the pup. Then there was the aforementioned visit to my sister's. It's nice to take time sometimes and pull my head out of the infertility trap. Often I feel like my brain is on a loop that connects everything to this infertility rollercoaster we are on. It was nice to sit back and chat with family and give lots of hugs and smooches to my niece and nephew.

I also got some new gear to make my life change more fun...and cute.

And to keep me on track:

I even set myself up a Shake Station to keep all goods so I no longer have to contend with the Keurig!

All said and done, I feel ready and energized to tackle this upcoming week! I will leave you with a couple of pictures of Memorial Day fun:

Challenge Accepted

Tom and I had our first appointment with the new RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist for all the fertiles out there) on Friday, Dr. Fertilty. I liked the previous one good enough but I never felt like Tom and I were an individual couple - I felt like we were one couple in a bunch of infertile ones. Kind of like one size fits all for treatment. Dr. Fertility took the time to read my files before our visit and had a list of questions and suggestions ready for us. Holy shit. He gets us.

The bottom line is this. There are no more Clomid rounds. They make no sense anymore. They're technically working because they make me ovulate; however, it doesn't result in pregnancy. Dr. F said I've had my max number of cycles on it. So what do we do?

Crying?

Have a mental breakdown induced cleaning spree?

Give up and descend into calorie consuming madness?

Nope.

Step 1: We do repeat testing to make sure everything is still the way we left it (Tom = normal, me = PCOS). Also, I need to lose 40 lbs. 4-0. Ugh.

Step 2: Once I'm down 40 lbs, we go back to the doctor and start injectable/IUI cycles.

Step 3: Doctor Fertility wants me to do up to four injects/IUI cycles while working on losing another 30 lbs. If the IUIs don't work, it's IVF time.

I walked out of there feeling pretty good. Well, crappy that my body won't just stop complaining and start working but good about the next steps. Sometimes you need the world to give you a nice swift kick in the buttimski before things finally click. And click they did.

I just joined the Body By Vi Challenge, on a friend's recommendation. It's two shakes per day (one for breakfast, one for lunch) with sensible snacks and then a healthy dinner. Seems easy enough, though I'm sure it won't be. I'll have to fight for it every step, every pound, of the way. But I know I can do it.

National Infertility Awareness Week

1 in 8. 

That is how many couples have trouble conceiving. The causes can be related to the female, male, or both. Infertility is defined as trying for a baby for a year without conceiving. For people over the age of 35, the parameters change to 6 months.

There are no words to describe the sadness and hopelessness that are the result of infertility. I could describe it to you, but you still wouldn't get it. And that's nobody's fault. It's just a reality. You can't really get something that you don't experience firsthand. Similar to hearing about a friend who has diabetes, cancer, or any number of diseases - you can empathize but you can't possibly grasp the magnitude of what a life changer it is.

Even if you can't relate, there are many things you can do to support the people in your life suffering from infertility:

Get educated. Learn more about infertility so you don't sound like a jackass when you're talking to someone suffering. No, relaxing won't get me pregnant. Neither will praying, being patient, eating more walnuts/greens/fruit or standing on my head.

Listen. Without using your mouth. Just listen.

Be there. Sometimes people dealing with infertility don't want to talk but just knowing that someone is in their corner can really do wonders.

My Winter In Pictures

Ha! Nice to see you, 4+ months later. As I went back and forth trying to wrestle my demons and come to terms with the path I have chosen my my uterus has chose, I managed to have some enjoyment in the otherwise horrendous winter months.

I will post an "official" update post later but for now wanted to leave you with some winter fun I managed to have.

   Dress Up fun with my niece Olivia!

                                                                         

                                     Many, many cocktails (after all, what else is a broken ute good for than                                                                                     allowing for imbibing?!

                                               Wedding photo booth fun with my cousins!

                                                   Tom and I at my cousin's wedding.

Be back soon...I promise this time!

XO

Amanda