Memories

The first few days after we lost Max, I was in a daze.  People were visiting and calling.  I did my best to avoid it all.   I just wanted to be alone...in my bed.  My cousin came to our house and spent the day cleaning and doing laundry.  I just sat and watched...which is totally out of my character.  I watched as she picked up Max's swing and high chair and put them in his room.  His baby food, formula and bottles were packed up and placed in his closet.  In a day's time, everything that belonged to my son was removed from my sight and placed in his room.  The door was shut and I didn't go in for a long time. 

I just couldn't bring myself to go inside.  Often, I would come across one of his bottles, pacifiers or outfits.  Always with tears, I would crack open his door, place his items inside and quickly shut the door once again.  It literally took me months before I could enter. 

I started with small steps....leaving the door cracked, then completely open.  Initially, I would glance in from the hallway for a split second.  As time progressed I found myself standing at the door, looking in.  Still not entering, but scanning the room. 

At the time, I couldn't imagine how I could remove Max's items to make room for a new baby.  Was I supposed to just take down his name and put a new name on the wall?  It just didn't seem natural to me.  It still doesn't.  But a baby was on its way, and Max was no longer here. 

 

I knew I wanted to do something special to honor Max.  The last thing I wanted to do was pack up his belongings and place them in a tub in the attic.  So, I started with his clothes.  He had so many clothes.  Even though we were having another boy, I wasn't comfortable saving Max's clothes for the new baby.  Many of his clothes had special memories and I wanted to preserve those. 

 

So one day, I finally did it.  I bit the bullet and entered Max's room.  I just sat inside for a few moments and looked around.  I touched his changing pad, picked up his Boppy pillow and smelt his blanket.  I don't think I have ever cried so hard.  I could smell him.  Every memory was very vivid.  I could remember his smile...his laugh...his cry

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A big fear of mine is that I will forget.  Will I forget the way he felt in my arms?  Will I forget how it felt to cuddle my nose around his neck or to smell his sweet milk breath?  I never heard him speak.  I don't know what it sounds like for his voice to yell my name.  But I know his cry and the way he "talked" to the kids and the dogs.  Will I forget?  I pray that I never lose these memories...never.  In a weird way, they are painful, yet comforting at the same time. 

 

I sat down with his clothes.  It took me all afternoon to sort through them all and decide which ones were the most important to me.  I found a lady online who makes memory quilts.  Through a complete leap of faith, I sent her my most treasured items...Max's clothes.  I packed them up and prayed that they would arrive in South Carolina safely and be returned as a beautiful blanket. 

After several weeks, the quilt was created and returned to me.  I was hesitant to open the box.  But what I found inside was exactly what I hoped it would be .  Every outfit was preserved perfectly.  The entire front of the quilt was made of Max's personal items.  I touched each one, remembering his plump little body filling them out.  I smiled...I cried.  The quilt is now laid across our bed.  I see it everyday... and remember. 

Today, I thank God for my memories of Max...the good ones and the bad. 




Max's Quilt (designed by Lauryn at "Heart and Sew")

 

 

 

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, (for) the old order has passed away." -Revelation 21:4



 

"The span between life and death can be as quick and sudden as a puff of wind that blows out a candle.  But the candle does not suffer after darkness comes.  It is the person left in the dark room who gropes and stumbles." -Helen Duke Fike