19) How are you so strong?

 

How are you so strong? 

Many people have asked me this along the way. Honest, simple answer… you have to be. It’s how you survive. And you can survive unimaginable tragedy; even though, if you think about it right now, you most definitely think you cannot. If you would have asked me before, I would have told you that should something terrible happen, I would be a balled-up mess forever. But I’m not now and I really never was. This strength emerges that you truly never knew even existed. 

 

That’s not to say, by any means, that this road has been an easy one. Quite the opposite as you can imagine. Grief does not ever go away. You will not ever forget what happened or get over your grief. They say “time heals all wounds” but I’m not convinced that that is true. It is forever engrained in your heart and soul. But grief is not necessarily a bad thing; it shows how much love you have for the ones you have lost. Everything has an opposite, and I think love’s opposite is not only hate but from a different view, grief. 

 

I think that grief does not have to be a burden, but it instead can be used to grow. This analogy came to me in the middle of the night, and I actually woke up to write it down, so I think that means it must be good. I picture grief as a rock in flowerpot. There’s still soil in the flowerpot like the things you need in life but there’s this big rock taking up space, making it challenging to grow. But what does a plant do, it grows around it. The rock will eventually become so entangled in the roots that it practically becomes part of the plant. And that beautiful flower can still grow even though it is holding on to a big rock. Grief shapes you into someone you didn’t know you could be, because it shows you the value of life and the importance of what really matters. It shows you your strength and persistence. It grows your empathy and kindness. All those lessons that I have learned along the way, I am truly grateful for. 

 

All of this is not to say that there are not times that are not difficult. And it seems like the difficult times make me feel different every time. Just when you think you’ve figured it out, surprise, your mind throws a new emotion into the mix. Sometimes I’m really sad, other times I’m really withdrawn or tired and then throw in the anxious, can’t turn your brain off thinking. There is no method to it; you just have to prepare for the fact that it can show up any time, any day, in any form and know that that’s totally normal even though it doesn’t feel like it. 

 

The month of May is a hard one for me… it’s the craziness of the end of the school year, then add on my most bittersweet holiday of the year, Mother’s Day. Celebrating the kids I have here and the one I do not; it’s a total mix of emotions every time. Followed a week later by Weston’s birthday. He would be 8 years old this year; that number does not even seem possible. A lifetime ago and just yesterday at the same time. 

 

My 8 year wisdom is this… it does not get easier so do not expect it to, it just gets different. I feel like at this point, the roots are established, the flower blooms and it is not going anywhere, but that rock is not either. The rock won’t get any smaller or go away but it will continue to shape those roots. 💗

 

I contemplated what to do with this blog a few years ago and decided that it will stay, and I will occasionally update it when things come into my head. I like that Weston’s story is still here for people that wonder or happen upon it. This is my story, and it will be forever. I find it freeing and it brings me peace to help others through challenging situations of grief. It makes me feel better to know that others feel supported and understood, because I know how hard this journey is and how alone you can feel even if you’re not. I know sometimes people don’t bring Weston up to me because they’re worried it may be triggering… it won’t. I love talking about Weston and sharing his story. So if you need me, I’m here :) My hope for this blog is that it continues to bring awareness, or support, or answer some questions or fill in some blanks. So it will continue to be here for anyone that needs it. :) 

 

18) Triggered

Today I was triggered. It doesn’t happen often; most days, weeks, months, I go about my everyday life and go to work and love my kids and husband and talk with my friends and survive every day by focusing on the positives in my life. But today, in the most unlikely of places, I was confronted with a story about a little girl and her dad who were hit by a car; the little girl is currently in PICU with some pretty significant injuries. And in an instant, it sent me straight back to walking into a hospital on what should have been an everyday kind of day getting ready to face the most life-changing and traumatic event of my life.

The strange thing about grief is that even when you think it’s gone, when you think you’ve overcome it and dealt with it and accepted it, it rains over you with such intensity that you feel like you are unchanged from the moment you acquired it. You immediately feel the unbearable weight that comes along with it and the panicked thoughts of a mind hoping to make it disappear. Luckily, it’s a momentary paralysis. You regain your strength, your toughness, your breath more quickly as time goes on, but every time it happens, it’s still shocking the power it holds over you.

I know the grief will always be there, just as Weston’s memory will be too; to lose the grief would mean that Weston’s memory would have to go as well, so grief is the price you pay.  Weston and his story have given me more strength than I ever thought possible, more courage to stand up for what I believe in, and more focus on the beautiful pieces of life. Just as there are situations that trigger me right back into the trauma, there are also many that heal my heart. Seeing the kindness of others, of strangers, when a person is in need, when a person is sitting in PICU with their baby and people rally around them to provide strength when they have none and guidance when they feel lost is a beautiful thing, it’s a comforting thing, and I’m grateful that I was triggered enough to notice it.

17) Time Is Love

Time is love…. Time. Is. Love. The longer you think about that phrase, the more important it becomes and the more meaning it has. If you’re not familiar with this song by Josh Turner, here is the chorus:

“Time is love, gotta run. Love to hang longer, but I got someone who waits, waits for me and right now she's where I need to be. Time is love.”

How do you show someone that you love you them? You can spend 70 hours a week at work and make a lot of money to buy expensive, fancy things – and if that happens to be for a three-year-old, they will love the box it came in more and will want to make it into an airplane with you as the co-pilot. Why? Because Time Is Love. The big, fancy surprise means nothing if they must enjoy it alone.

 

Kids already know the secret – they already know that their favorite thing in the whole world is just you; it’s just hanging out with you, because with you is where they want to be. And for some reason, when you grow up, it’s so easy to lose that entire idea. It’s so easy to get sucked into the illusioned importance of a Ferrari and a mansion on the beach. It’s so easy to get sucked into staying four hours late at work or bringing home a small U-Haul of paperwork so that you don’t get behind, but even with that you are always still behind and there is always more to do!

When I first heard this song, it became my goal; I was tired of the mom guilt in my head of caring more about a teenager’s math test than time with my kids. My goal became to show that time is love and work is work; work will still be there tomorrow and time will be gone. I stopped staying four hours late and left the minute that the clock hit 2:40 (middle school starts really early!). I felt like such a good mom, because I was making time with my family my priority, and I was having so much fun just hanging out with my kids without anything else important to do. And then we lost Weston. I look back and am forever grateful that I realized that time was love and spent every moment that I could with my sweet boy. I never would have thought for a second that three months was all the time that I would get. And that’s the scary thing… we don’t know how much time we get with anyone. Yet it makes me feel so much better looking back at the time that I had and knowing that I didn’t spend all of my minutes wasted, because he was where I needed to be.

Time. Is. Love. is so difficult. Even though I know how important it is, I still catch myself until this very moment having to consciously remind myself of what’s important. It’s so easy to choose the most insignificant things (hello Facebook… I just love to see what everyone else is doing!) instead of playing house or restaurant or beauty parlor or racetrack (kids are busy!) with Taylee. Or how easy it is to have to catch up on Chicago P.D. instead of playing with Colton on the floor. And trust me… I get it. Playing with your kids is more work than any job I have ever had, and I am stinkin tired! Everybody needs a break, for sure! Time is love counts for you too.

This is just my reminder, my thought-provoker for you… make sure to find balance in your life; look closely at what’s really important to you. Know that your children, your spouse, your family, your friends all value time with you and that the pile of paperwork, the out of control inbox can wait until tomorrow. Time is love and they’re where you need to be. 

Taylee & Colton 2017

Taylee & Weston 2015

                   

Lesson #14

16) And Then Comes a Rainbow...

When we lost Weston, our family was forever changed. Our hearts were broken, and our family dynamic changed drastically. We have known all along that we wanted at least two kids, and since I’m not one of lucky ones who loves being pregnant, I thought that two kids sounded perfect. Then a hurricane shows up and changes everything. I couldn’t imagine not having another baby and so a few months after Weston, we started trying again.

And here comes the fate, the “there’s no way this can be coincidence” … I found out I was pregnant two days before Weston’s first birthday on an evening with a beautiful sunset. And you are completely right when you know that I have never felt so happy, relieved, and at peace with something as I did with that.

Being pregnant after losing a baby is one of the most stressful, scary things I’ve had to do. When you’re pregnant, you know that you’re responsible for this sweet baby and you keep that in your head. When you’re pregnant after a loss, you slightly lose your mind, because you Obsess. About. Everything. At least I did. I was terrified that I was going to do something that would mess it up, so I put on a smile for everyone else and had constant anxiety every day for almost 9 months. People would joke about pregnancy things, all in good fun, and I would laugh but inside would be so irritated. I found none of it funny trying to balance my crazy, busy life while walking on eggshells and trying to keep it together. It was incredibly difficult. I look back now and think it’s a little ridiculous that that was my frame of mind but, honestly, don’t know if I could think any differently if I was pregnant again.

Chris and I had mixed feelings about whether we wanted another girl or boy. They say that after you lose a baby that your next one may seem like a ‘replacement baby’, and in a way, it does. Not that we were ever trying to replace Weston, but we were trying to complete our new, our changed family dynamic. Having a girl would make it easier, it seemed, but I could not imagine not having another boy – to the point that I told Chris we were going to have another baby if this one was a girl! If you’ve known me while I’m pregnant, you probably just fell out of your chair. It’s just not my favorite thing – the result is amazing… getting there, not so much! So, I was hoping for a boy. Que the fate, the magic, the ‘no way!’… a year to the day, August 24, 2016, Chris and I drove to the exact same hospital that we had driven to the year before, for a much happier reason. That doctor confirmed that we were, for sure, having another boy. I went home and bawled and again felt so at peace. I know that Weston was telling me it was okay.

Fast forward a few months and on January 1, 2017, our beautiful baby boy, Colton, showed up a few weeks early. His funny story is that he did not want to come out! My water had broken and he was breech like the other two so I was headed for a C-Section. He was so cozied up in my ribs that the doctors had to pull and yank his feet, for what felt like forever, to get him out! And then he peed on them, because that’s apparently what our boys do. 

He was perfect in every way and we couldn’t have been happier. We went home with Colton on January 3 and (last time, I promise!) fate showed up. We left the hospital on a cloudy rainy day (just like with Taylee and Weston), and I knew that Weston and my grandma were smiling down for sure. Our little rainbow baby couldn’t be more perfect and our hearts couldn’t be more full. And I know that our angel baby is smiling too. 

Lesson #13

15) Glass Half-Empty – Glass Half-Full… I’m just Thankful to have a cup!

Holidays are hard – being surrounded by family and friends is the best feeling but knowing a special little boy cannot be here with us makes today extra difficult. It seems like every day brings its own challenges, but with those challenges comes a thousand things that we have to be grateful for.

This year we moved to a new beautiful house that we are so lucky to be able to afford. Leaving our old house was bittersweet, but packing up Weston’s room and leaving that behind was definitely the saddest part. It was hard to know that we wouldn’t be putting it back together for him again. Trying to find a way to balance the memories and all of his things while not creating a sort of shrine was something that Chris and I thought a lot about. This past week, we found a really cool trunk to put all of our special Weston things in and to give him a little place in our new home. It could not be more perfect and has helped to make this house feel home with everyone we love having a spot.

We are so incredibly grateful for our family and friends that keep Weston’s memory alive. Hearing people talk about Weston clouds and Random Acts of Kindness that they’ve done in his memory bring us more joy than we could have ever imagined. Knowing that people give their own kids extra hugs and keep a more watchful eye on their babies brings good to the situation. We are so grateful for all of your support when we need it and kindness – it is truly overwhelming in the most wonderful of ways.

I’m so thankful for my husband. He is such an amazing partner to have as we navigate this forever grief process. Some aspects get easier, but something new that creates new emotions or brings back old ones is never far away. I’m so lucky to have someone that is so willing to listen, to talk, and to understand even if we don’t see things the same way. There really is no one that understands me quite like he does. He is quite the amazing guy and I’m so proud and grateful that he’s mine.

Our Taylee girl is the light of our lives and loves her baby brother even though he’s not here. There is not a doubt in my mind that he will be a part of her life forever which makes me so happy. She talks about Weston clouds and how much she loves him on a regular basis and never fails to tug at our heartstrings like you could never imagine.

Weston changed our lives in so many ways, and I’ll forever be grateful that we were blessed with him, even for a short while. He has shown us the meaning of life and the value of kindness. He has shown us the importance of family and the idea that nothing should be taken for granted. He has opened our hearts to be able to love a little more and shown us that the little things are not really worth getting upset over. It’s pretty impressive to me that one little boy could do all this, but I’m sure that’s not even all of it… and we are so very thankful.

I hope you all have a Happy Thanksgiving and take a moment to think about everything there is to be grateful for. 

Lesson #12

14) A Year Ago... But Just Like Yesterday

It’s hard to believe that a year has already passed since our world was so unexpectedly shaken and changed. It’s terrifying to think that one moment, one choice can forever alter your life, but it can and it will in good ways and bad. The tragedy can either take over your life or guide your life depending on how you face it, but you will never forget it; it will eventually become easier, but it will never go away.  

If you think of the happiest days of your life – your wedding day, the birth of your children, your graduation – you remember them just as everyone says, like it happened yesterday. You remember the colors and people and smells and every other detail of the day. Unfortunately, I’ve learned that the same can be true for the tragic events as well.

August 26^th is not a day that Chris and I think about often. It’s terrifying and traumatizing and dramatic and still to this day is the most clear-blur in my mind. I remember every detail – every person’s face, every cord and machine, every detail of the room, the expression on his face – yet when I think about the day, it still feels like the slow motion hurricane that it was when it was happening. A strange feeling to say the least. Thinking about this day will instantly bring tears to my eyes and still remains one of the only days that I have to really hold it together to talk about. It is and was, by far, the hardest day of my life. Driving by the hospital will instantly send a thousand flashes through my mind and mentions of tiny things, seemingly irrelevant, will immediately send my mind back to the PICU on August 26^th.

It’s difficult to deal with today since there is no How To book; it’s hard to know what you’re supposed to do – it’s obviously a hard day, an emotional day, a scary day – not really a day that anyone wants to think about, but I feel the need to do something – something important, something special, something to show that even though our sweet boy is not here, we think about him every single moment. I’ve heard it before that someone’s biggest fear when they’ve lost someone is that they’ll be forgotten, and after losing Weston, I can completely understand that and share that same fear. We decided that we are going up to Tahoe tonight to the beach where we had our wedding and Weston’s memorial. It’s a special place to us for obvious reasons but is beautiful and happy and helps to hold the sadness away.

Our lives have changed so much over the last year – I feel like we love a little more and get mad a little less. We are so grateful for what we have, and especially for who we have in our lives. Our support system is immense, and we are forever thankful for that. We hug Taylee a little tighter and have more fun. You only live once and you never know what your timeline is, so we have become a little more spontaneous and immensely more joyful.

I’ve learned that kindness and happiness are the best cure to any bad day. As of this blog over 600 Kindness Cards have been thrown into the world, and nothing makes me happier than to know that 600 nice things have happened because of Weston (and I have more if you want them!!)! This blog has over 6,000 page views, which blows my mind that people actually want to hear our story; and I hope that when they do, they squeeze their kids a little tighter. I have spoken at one of the Safe Sleep classes in Reno (I was terrified; I made it through without crying – sounds like a win!), and I plan on speaking anywhere and everywhere that people will let me (let me know if you know of somewhere good!). I have been in contact with the Licensing Supervisor for Washoe County Social Services and have a big push to get rules, regulations, and monitoring fixed. I’m busy and tired, but nothing has ever felt more worth it.

So as I’m sitting here today writing this, I’m looking out my window to a sky filling with clouds, (2 days before today – no clouds; forecast says for the next 7 days – no clouds… it just cannot be a coincidence – I’m convinced!) I know that my Weston boy is with us every moment of every day, and I know that one day, we’ll all be together again and that, too, makes today a little bit easier. 

Lesson #11:

13) And With a Wish... Happy First Birthday

I think that your child's first birthday is one of the most exciting (maybe that and the 18th!); you've made it through all of the stressful, sleepless months and get to celebrate their birthday for the very first time. Thinking about Weston's first birthday immediately sent my mind into a panic for about 4 months prior. It was incredibly hard to think about, yet I couldn't imagine not thinking about it.

There isn't really a handbook on how to remember a loved one on their birthday. For some people it's sharing memories and for others it's a family dinner or a trip to their graveside. I felt like for a child it had to be different. I conjured up grand plans for my baby's special day so that he would know we were thinking of him and so that everyone could celebrate!

Weston's birthday is one of the reasons that I started this blog. I knew that I wanted Weston to be remembered and celebrated, and that is how the Random Acts of Kindness idea came to be. I wanted to share his story, to help others, and to bring awareness. It still brightens my day when I see a new kind act pop up on the blog or get an email sharing someone's awesome story.

We wanted to do something as a family on his actual birthday. Thanks to a very kind coworker, I was able to take the day off. We decided to have a beach day up in Lake Tahoe, as that has become a special Weston place. Little did we know that Weston had other plans for us! That day turned out to be a cloudy, rainy, snowy, FREEZING day! I'm sure Weston and my grandma had quite the laugh! We had dinner at a fancy restaurant and figured out that we really aren't fancy restaurant kind of people. But nonetheless, the day was perfect. We were able to cry and miss him, and smile and love him. I couldn't have asked for anything else.

The next day, I had planned a birthday BBQ. I had mixed feeling about this from the beginning. It's weird to me to have a birthday party for someone who isn't physically here - I kept thinking, "What are we going to do? Sing Happy Birthday to a cake with no one there!" It felt weird to do something, but it felt even stranger not to. I feel like when there's another child involved, celebrating Weston's birthday is really the only way that Taylee is really going to have memories of or a connection to her brother.

The BBQ turned out to be the best way to celebrate Weston. We had so many good friends and family come by and laugh and smile and have a great day. We said happy birthday to Weston and released balloons into the sky, and it was beautiful and emotional and absolutely perfect.

Lesson #10:

12) Trying not to be a crazy mom... But all moms, read this!

The thought of having to put a child in daycare is easily one of the scariest thoughts in my head. Knowing everything that I have learned from this situation makes having confidence in anybody but myself incredibly difficult, but I can't wrap my kids in a bubble and bring them to work, so life must go on. I think it's important to share with you what I've learned about daycares and social services, not to make you crazy parents, but so you know what to look for and what to be aware of. I wish I had known these things.

Social Services in Washoe County has a portal where they display the social services reports from each inspection visit and also lists any complaints against providers. If you have a kiddo in daycare (licensed home or business), they will be listed, and I highly recommend that you check it out. I had known about this and had checked every one of Taylee and Weston's daycare providers who all, including Kelly, had perfect records.
It's at the bottom of this page -Child Care Inspection Portal

Daycare providers know the window, spanning a few weeks, of when their social worker is going to show up to do their bi-annual inspection. So when daycare providers say that they get surprise visits, it's more like they get a surprise visit during a three week window. It's important to be aware of what is going on for the other 46 weeks of the year. I was told by our social worker that social workers typically do not do inspections during nap time because they have to set off the smoke alarms in the house; so social workers are typically not checking where children are sleeping. I would think that that is one of the most important times to check on providers!

I found out later from the social worker that one of her coworkers used to actually take her own child to Kelly. After our situation had occurred, she told our social worker that she caught Kelly putting her daughter to sleep on a bed, and just never reported it. If only she would have spoken up! I also found multiple pictures on Kelly's Facebook account of her daycare kids sleeping on beds, one being much too young for that to have been allowed.

I have a hard time questioning other adults; I feel like they know what they should be doing and should just do it. After this experience, I will always ask the important questions especially where my child's sleeping and actually see what is being used. It's important to find someone who you trust, who runs their daycare as a business, and doesn't see it as a way to get paid to stay home. You want someone who treats each child as their top priority! We found out later from the social worker that Kelly actually had a pack n play in the garage but was just choosing not to use it. Instance number one hundred, where my thought started with If only...

Lesson #8

11) Isn’t Counseling Just Lying on a Couch?

From the moment we knew how our situation would end in the hospital, people started encouraging that we go to counseling. The doctors, the nurses, friends, family… it was to the “Okay, Okay, we get it” point. The rumor we heard was that many marriages end in divorce after the loss of a child. It’s terrifying getting that thrown at you just as your world is turned upside down. I have to keep it together and save my marriage at the same time… hold on! I started thinking about our relationship… any holes, any time bombs that are going to explode? None that I could figure out. Chris and I communicate well; we’ve known each other long enough to know what each of us needs and how each of us deal with things, but to please everyone and make sure there were no time bombs, I found a counselor and we went.

I had never been to counseling before, and it’s hard to know what to expect. Almost every TV show portrays counseling as lying on the couch and talking for an hour while they take notes (notes that always end up being bored doodles). So we walked into the counseling office and sat on a couch. Turns out that was really the only stereotypical thing about it. We told her our story (the in the dark story…) and talked about how we were feeling; it all felt pretty peaceful and relaxing. She told us that we seemed to be doing the best that we could and that she really didn’t have any concerns about our ability to deal with this situation. We could call if we needed her, but we left feeling like we had passed counseling with flying colors. See everyone, nothing to worry about!

A month later, our wonderful counselor got a call from me who was in total disbelief about the real story… the whole story… the game changer. When you get such time-stopping news, the whole world just spins. I honestly had no idea what to think, how to think; I don’t even think I could identify my feelings at that point. It’s all very surreal. But at this point, what happened to Weston wasn’t just God’s plan; there was somebody who DID this; there was someone to blame. And that scared me, because I wasn’t sure if Chris or I could navigate that alone.

The best thing about counseling was the freedom to throw it all out there and know that there is someone who can help you put it back together or who can help explain your crazy irrational thinking to your spouse. Chris and I really stayed on the same page through pretty much everything except the feelings about Kelly. Chris was mad, and I was not. I remember this blowing up in the car – I was on the phone talking to someone about what had happened, and I kept making excuses for Kelly “well maybe she just needed to buy a pack n play and so this was a one-time thing.” I felt like since I didn’t know otherwise that I needed to give her the benefit of the doubt, since I would want someone to do that for me (I did find out later that she had a pack n play in her garage and just wasn’t using it… long sigh). Let’s just say that Chris and I did not see eye to eye on this subject. He couldn’t understand why I wasn’t mad (honestly, I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t mad either!). I just felt so disappointed in her and her choices. So we went to counseling and threw it all out there. I remember the best thing that our counselor said to me that day was that I didn’t have to feel stupid for my feelings. That seems obvious but could not even cross my mind – I felt stupid that I wasn’t mad. She helped Chris and I navigate our feelings and helped us come to terms with the fact that our feelings may be different but they were both right for us. Did you know that there’s not a checklist for how you feel when you’re grieving? Of course I knew that, but when you’re in the middle of it, it just doesn’t make sense that there wouldn’t be. She was an awesome crazy irrational thinking brain fixer. J

We met with our counselor for about 7 months after Weston passed away. We just recently stopped. I can honestly say going was the best choice we ever made. Could Chris and I have made it on our own; probably. But our marriage, our happiness, our family is not something that I would be willing to bet that on. At our last appointment, we sat with our counselor and laughed and talked about all the good things that are happening; all the happy things we have coming up and all the amazing ways we are keeping Weston’s memory alive. It really felt like we had come full circle on that couch, and we are forever grateful for her support, guidance, and time. As we were leaving, it felt like we should invite her over for Christmas dinner. It’s strange telling a stranger your fears and about the scariest, saddest parts of your life, but over time, they become much less of a stranger and more a friend. 

Lesson #9:

10) Social Services Trouble

UPDATE August 2016:
Over the past year, I have been in contact with Social Services a few different times. These calls have been much more helpful and are always promptly returned. The people I have spoken with have been tremendously helpful regarding my questions and are willing to listen to suggestions that I have. They have also given me numerous resources and contacts to help to get Weston's story to the people that it matters to most. I have been given more information about Social Workers obligations - for one, they are supposed to ask about where the children are sleeping. I have added getting some policies changed to my never-ending Weston list as I think just asking isn't quite enough. 

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After the incident with Weston, Kelly's social worker was immediately contacted and visited her house. I would be in contact with her later on, but I met her when she came to the hospital with Kelly.

It took almost three months for the “complaint” report to show up on Social Service’s Childcare Portal. I know because I neurotically checked EVERY SINGLE DAY. I felt guilty that it wasn’t there yet; like I should be telling parents what happened so at least they knew, so at least they weren’t in the dark like we were. I didn’t know what they had been told, because nobody from social services ever called me. So I started calling them.

I started with the supervisor. She was nice; I asked what action was being taken with the daycare at the time (since Taylee was still going there, because I was still in the dark), and I wanted to be sure that things were being taken care of. She tells me that she will speak with the social worker to find out what was going on and get back to me in a couple days. Two weeks later… no call, and by this time, I have learned the whole story. So I call her again and  she is so sorry that she hadn’t called me back. Part of me can't believe that people just didn't get in contact with us - there was a death because of Kelly's actions, and I understand that city departments are very busy, but what is happening that is more important? I'll never understand. According to the supervisor, there was a plan: the social worker was checking in weekly, had spoken with Kelly extensively about safe sleeping arrangements, and had instructed her that she had to take three additional classes this year if she wanted to watch infants again. In regards to the complaint report, it just needed to be signed off, and it would be up on the site. As I sat there listening to her, I was again in total shock that THIS IS IT - her consequences are having to take three classes.  

Two months in… no report… I called and said that I was a parent looking for daycare. I wanted to know how often the portal was updated; apparently “weekly”. I asked if complaints were updated within that week; apparently “they can take a little longer because they are investigated.” I asked if they would show up within a month; apparently “for sure it wouldn’t take that long” - apparently it did… By this time, I was beyond frustrated. 

Two and half months in… I called the supervisor’s supervisor. I was going to talk to every manager in the department if I had to. Thank goodness, she was very helpful. She explained that the secretary that I had talked to had obviously misspoken… obviously… and that social services needed to wait until they were cleared by Reno Police Department to post the complaint online. They have to be careful not to interfere with the criminal side of things. Makes sense… why didn't the first lady tell me that? The report was then posted a few days later, and the social worker called me to let me know that the other families had been notified of what happened before they brought their kids back to Kelly, and she read over the report with me. She was very sweet, and I know that she felt badly about the way things had been handled and what had happened.

Throughout this whole situation, I learned that persistence is your best friend. Nothing ever gets done on the first try, and in order to get answers, it has to be a priority for you, because rarely, it seems, is it a priority for them.

Lesson #7

9) In the Dark

We never really received any more information about what happened from the detectives than what I was told when I arrived at the babysitter’s house – that he was found unresponsive during his nap.

Chris and I were both very comfortable with our daycare – Kelly was “mom-like”, very nurturing, and had older daughters that would come home from school and play with the kids. I liked that it wasn’t too structured and that the kids were able to play. I never questioned anything about the daycare; nothing worried me. So the thought never crossed my mind, that it was anything other than SIDS.

We all believed that SIDS was the cause of death; that was the information that the hospital was working with, and all we were told from the detectives was that there was not foul play involved, which eliminated any abuse concerns. It was the only thing that made sense based on the information we had. So we continued to take Taylee to the daycare afterwards – thinking it was SIDS, we couldn’t imagine how bad Kelly must have felt. So, we thought it was the right thing to do; she was practically family. Kelly and her family came to the hospital to see Weston and came to his celebration of life as well. She never mentioned anything differently, even though it was obvious that we didn’t know the whole story. That is one of things that disappoints me the most.

Almost a month after Weston had passed away, I received a phone call from the Coroner’s office. School had just gotten out and so, not thinking it would be anything other than confirmation of SIDS, I called her back. She informed me that she would be ruling Weston’s death as Sudden Unexplained Infant Death due to improper sleep conditions. WHAT? My world stopped, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. She said that the police report detailed that he had been found face down on an extremely soft full size bed. How could nobody tell us what had happened for a month!

I immediately called the detective, who was extremely apologetic – yet I still can’t help but be a little upset that he hadn’t called us immediately - and told me the whole story. Kelly had been putting Weston to sleep on her daughter’s bed, unknown to us. I thought he was sleeping in a little bassinet, but apparently that had not been happening. She had him swaddled tightly and put pillows around him so that he wouldn’t roll off, but he was only 3 months old, so he wasn’t rolling yet. Her daughter went in the room to change when she got home from schools and somehow, our best guess is that she sat on the end of the bed even though she says that she didn’t, moved the bed enough to roll him over. 

I was devastated. It was no longer that he just stopped breathing, that it wasn’t his time to be here; it was now that he had suffocated because our daycare provider chose not to listen to the most important rule of infant sleeping. No beds. My baby died because she decided to be lazy that day and not set up a pack n play.

I called Chris and told him what had happened, and it was like we started the grieving all over again. It was like we were back to square one on August 24^th. It was horrible. It was difficult because now there was someone to blame; it was somebody’s fault. That was difficult to deal with. More so since Chris and I had different emotions about it. Chris was really angry with Kelly and her decision - while she was not intentionally trying to hurt Weston, she knew that was not what she should be doing. I was just unbelievably disappointed; I never got mad - the angry just never showed up, which caused some tough feelings between Chris and me. We had to navigate through the grieving differently and try to understand and support each other in the process. Not that it was something that we couldn’t do; Chris and I have a very solid relationship and are each other’s biggest supports; we knew we would be okay – it just created more difficulty. After all of this, I feel like our relationship is made of diamonds.

Lesson #6

8) Celebrating Our Boy

I am not a fan of funerals. They’re sad; there’s lots of crying, and it feels like you’re trapped in four walls. That’s not what I wanted for Weston. I wanted to celebrate him being here and the joy that he brought to our lives, and I just wanted to be happy. Chris and I set the tone, and everyone graciously went along with it. We wanted it to be at Lake Tahoe; it’s just so beautiful there, so we started looking. The problem with Lake Tahoe on a Saturday in August is that it is wedding season, and wedding season is busy and expensive. After calling numerous places, we found an opening at the beach that Chris and I were married at and it was perfect. It just made our special place even more special.

My parents set up a huge buffet of food. People sat and talked and laughed and it was perfect (freezing cold… in August… but it was perfect anyways). My mom and sisters made a collage of pictures of Weston and brought beautiful flowers. But my favorite part was the butterflies. I gave a little impromptu speech – Chris was supposed to, but it’s always a lot harder once you get there. Thank goodness he read it to me the day before, so I definitely stole all of his ideas; and then, Taylee, Chris, and I released butterflies. It was truly magical. 

 I could not have asked for a better day. A day surrounded with love from our family and friends; a day that we were able to smile and celebrate our precious boy.

Lesson #5

7) Rain & Sunsets

We told Taylee that Weston is flying in the clouds, because explaining all of this to a two year old is overwhelming, and it seemed like that was the happiest thing to believe. She never asks where he is, because she’ll tell you that that’s exactly what he is doing. Even still today, we’ll be outside or driving and on a perfectly cloudy day, she’ll say, “Weston boy is flying in the clouds.”

When I was little, I would sit with my grandma on her porch and watch the rain and lightning. She lived in Southern California so we didn’t see her as much as I would have liked, but I was her girl and that was our thing. My grandma died a few days before my 16^th birthday, and I was devastated, but always felt comfort when it rained. I’m not extremely religious and I don’t believe in ghosts, but I completely believe that our loved ones show us they’re okay in special ways. My grandma makes it rain. When I first told Chris about this, I know he thought I was a little bit crazy; unless you experience it, it does seem like it would check a few boxes in the psych ward. 

I knew he’d eventually start to see how crazy the rain thing was. It rained when my family and I went to my grandma’s house to go through her things. It rained at my high school graduation, snowed at my college graduation (Reno temperatures kind of mess the rain idea up sometimes!); it rained the day before our wedding and was supposed to rain on our wedding (my grandma knew better than to mess that up!), and it rained the day we brought both Taylee and Weston home from the hospital. Coupled with a multitude of other rainy days that came at just the perfect time. We live in a desert… how can you not be at least a little convinced? :)

So I knew that Weston would do something special to tell me he was okay. The evening we came home from the hospital, there was a beautiful sunset. Weston boy was flying in the clouds making beautiful sunsets. I don’t know if I just didn’t pay attention before or if there are more (I swear there are more) but we have had the most beautiful sunsets and sunrises since August. Each one takes my breath away and gives me some peace.

August 26, 2015 – the view from Weston’s window

Lesson #4

6) Goodbyes are Never Easy

August 26, 2015

At this point we knew that Weston wasn’t coming home, and we wanted to try and donate Weston’s organs. Knowing that we could potentially save someone else from the nightmare of losing their baby, made this decision incredibly easy. They ran the necessary tests and reached out to some doctors to see if they had patients that would need Weston’s organs. We got bittersweet news – they weren’t going to need Weston’s organs as they were so small which limited the possible candidates that could receive them, and at that time, there wasn’t anybody that did. It was happy news that nobody needed them. They were able to donate his heart valves which will go on to help numerous people. This was Weston’s first act of kindness.

We decided that we were going to take Weston off of life support that afternoon, and we thought it would be best if Chris and I were the only ones that stayed at that point. The PICU staff was amazing and accommodating. They truly made the experience as good as it could possibly be. Chris and I were able to hold him for the last two days, but that day they let everybody hold him. Everybody got a few minutes to hold him and say their goodbyes.

Taylee had come to see Weston the day before; it was truly amazing that all she saw was her little brother. She didn’t see the tubes and machines; she just saw Weston. They shared a few incredibly sweet and innocent moments. The hospital staff went above and beyond with their kindness and sweet ideas. Taylee and I helped them to take numerous footprint and handprint molds and prints. It was very special, and they are things we will treasure forever.

Saying goodbye was the hardest and easiest thing to do. We knew that our lives would never be the same but knew that he was ready to go and it felt almost selfish to keep him here. I knew that he was ready to be an angel baby and we had to let him fly.

I’m not going to write much about when we said goodbye to Weston as it is a pretty sacred moment to us. Saying goodbye to Weston was the most heartbreaking, life-changing, peaceful, nightmare experience that I wouldn’t wish upon anybody. As we told Taylee, our little Weston boy is now flying in the clouds.

We only took one picture at the hospital, and it is perfect. 

Lesson #3

5) The PICU

After an hour (maybe… who really knows… time didn’t feel normal for a while) we were allowed to go back to Weston’s room. I tried to use every hospital TV show trauma situation to mentally prepare myself for what he was going to look like, and while the tubes and machines all looked similar, seeing your baby there does not. Walking into that room for the first time was one of the hardest things that I had to do at that hospital. He was lying there on the bed and just looked like he was sleeping. Peaceful.

The doctors were running every test that they could – we knew there was going to be damage. We didn’t know how much and with the swelling that was occurring in his brain from the lack of oxygen, it would take some time to see. I am a planner - I need to know everything, regardless of the difficulty or the detail, because I need to prepare myself and make a plan, but doctors do not like to give any details of anything until they have all the facts. This was difficult… I knew that they must have some idea of the likely outcome but didn’t want to tell me because medical tests did not support it yet. Thank goodness Amy was there to give me the realistic side of the situation… the realistic conclusion that our little boy was not there anymore and should he ever wake up, that would be all that he would ever do.

Based on the medical tests, Weston was without a heartbeat for at least 40 minutes; that they got it back, in itself, is a miracle. The different tests that they ran were coming back good – x-rays showed no broken bones or damage; labs were coming back relatively normal for his situation; he was starting to breathe over the ventilator; and all of this gave us hope. That first night was the biggest hurdle. We were told that the first step was him making it through the night, and we woke up (a hundred times during the night) the next morning to his sweet face. First hurdle passed.

The back of my mind never let me forget the inevitable outcome, but all of the good news created a roller coaster. My mind raced back and forth between what my gut was telling me and the miracle my heart hoped all of the good news would create. I spent hours Googling outcomes of cases similar to this, and for the most part the outcomes were horrible nightmares, but there was one little boy who went home and had a normal life. So I prayed for a miracle.

Weston was so strong through this whole ordeal; he was breathing over the ventilator, and his organs were working hard; they took him off of a lot of the medications. All of this just wasn’t enough to overcome the damage that had been done to his brain. On the second day, they were able to start doing the brain tests which were not coming back good. All Weston was able to do was breathe intermittently on his own – nothing else was there anymore and that was the moment that I knew that we had to let him go.

Our families took over the PICU for two days. We shoved more people into his room than I’m sure the fire department would approve of. The first night I told Chris that I wanted us to be strong and be happy. If some part of his little brain could hear us, I wanted him to know that we loved him and I wanted him to hear laughter. So Chris and I put on our brave faces and took every bit of strength that we had and we smiled. We told stories and laughed with our families and brought as much joy into that room as we possibly could. Every person that wanted to be there to see Weston was there; our siblings hopped in a plane and into their cars and covered hundreds of miles to see him. His room was overflowing with love.

Our miracle wasn’t going to be that we took our little boy home; our miracle was going to be that he brought such joy to everyone’s life and that he gave us enough time so that we could all say goodbye. 

Lesson #2

4) The Emergency Room

You know the scenes in TV shows where people come bursting through the emergency room doors dazed and searching frantically for their family member? I would say it’s pretty accurate. You feel like there should be a big neon sign saying “This Way”! The nurses couldn’t get me to Chris fast enough; I was terrified to see Weston – to see what we were really dealing with, praying that he was alive. They didn’t take me to Weston’s room as it was very crowded and not something that I needed to see. Chris was already in the other room, and I could tell how bad things were by the look on his face. The doctors were STILL working on Weston, and we were told the doctor would be in to talk to us as soon as she could. It had been at least half an hour since the ambulance left – I don’t know how they decide when someone is gone but I’m so grateful they gave it a few extra minutes. They had taken Chris to the room where Weston was when he got there; Chris had said that he still didn’t have a heartbeat and looked to be in pretty bad shape. We sat in that room for an imagined eternity and prepared for the worst while hoping for anything better.

Finally, the doctors came in. They had gotten his heartbeat back. Worst scenario avoided. He was being moved to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) and this was the beginning of the roller coaster in my head. We couldn’t have gotten any better news yet I knew that we were not walking out with that sweet little boy that I had put to bed the night before.

They took us up to the PICU waiting room; thank goodness there was no one else there, and we said a prayer; we were in complete shock – how was this happening? They said they were getting him stabilized and would bring us back when that happened – time didn’t move. And we waited and waited. My friend, Amy, who works at the hospital came and found us. It was nice to have someone there to break up the silence and to have someone that knew the medical side of the conversations and could decode the medical language we were being given. Then the detectives showed up and needed to speak with us. They split us up (no matter what the situation, still makes you feel like you’re in trouble) and started asking a thousand questions that seemed to have no relevance to anything that was happening; although I couldn’t really tell you what any of them were. I was sitting there, but I was not there; all I was thinking about was my baby.

Shock is the strangest thing – it consumes your entire body and gives you an unusual amount of control while still having no control at the same time. It’s like you’re watching yourself from the corner of the room. When you hear of something like this happening, you think that the parents would be heaped unable to function. For sure, I was terrified, devastated, distressed yet I had this incredible strength; I don’t know where it came from, but I must have had someone on my side guiding me through. It gave me the courage to ask the tough questions, to demand what was right, and to face this nightmare head on. I’m pretty sure that it set the tone for the rest of my life…

Lesson #1:

3) A Day Never Forgotten - August 24, 2015

It was just a Monday- an “I’d much rather stay in bed” day; a “how is the weekend already over” day. I decided I would start the week off right and head to the gym after work before picking up Taylee and Weston from daycare. The crazy thing is I almost didn’t go – I almost talked myself out of it. It was a great workout – hopped in the car and headed to daycare. Turning on to the main street an ambulance flew by, and instantly mommy fear kicked in. Mommy fear is unexplainable – maybe irrational - but weirdly, usually right. I immediately talked myself out of it and kept driving. This is what I do; I worry. Chris doesn’t understand why I can’t ever stop worrying, but no matter how hard I try little scenarios pop up in my head at all times about a million different things, realistic or not, and I figure out the best way to handle the situation and move on. I think it’s my way of trying to always be prepared for anything – but there was no way to prepare for this; I turned onto the cul-de-sac to see numerous police cars – mommy fear was back. My mind was racing with any other possibility – an elderly neighbor was sick, one of the kids had fallen. I pulled into the driveway, and two police officers walked out of the house: “Are you Weston’s mom?” and I knew everything they were going to say.

The officers told me that Weston was found unresponsive during his nap; our daycare provider called 911 and her daughter started CPR, but he was still unresponsive when he left in the ambulance. That ambulance… and the nightmare started.

A blur followed – the most slow-motion hurricane you could ever imagine. I immediately called Chris, who I’m sure broke fifty laws getting to the hospital and still didn’t know half of what was going on, because I’m sure that I was talking a hundred miles an hour and his brain couldn’t process what I was saying; because at that point, I couldn’t process it either. I honestly don’t even remember what I said. The police officer drove me to the hospital but said that we needed to leave Taylee with the officers at the house; so phone call number two was to my dad who, I’m sure, made record time getting to the house to get Taylee. The ten minutes to get to the hospital took three hours in my mind – just enough time to go over every possible horrible scenario I was going to encounter when I walked through those emergency room doors.

And life’s lessons started. 

2) Perfect…

Chris and I met in 2004, fell in love, and then went to college and needed to live a little. Not the high school sweetheart story I had in mind at the time, but everything happens for a reason. Something always held us together, and in 2011, Chris and I got married and it was perfect. Then in 2013, we were blessed with our Taylee girl who brightened up our life in every way. She was an easy baby and life was again perfect. In 2014, we found out that we were going to add a little boy to our family, and on May 20, 2015, Weston Ray surprised us by showing up a month early. And again, life was perfect. Have you ever had that feeling that your life is just too good to be true? I did; I had two beautiful, sweet kids, and the kindest, most supportive husband anyone could ever ask for. Life was truly perfect. And then August 24 showed up and threw our lives into the biggest storm we would ever face.  

1) There's Never a Right Time...

For the past six months, I have tried to figure out a way to tell Weston’s story. In the beginning, we were unaware of the real story, and so what I shared at that time was truly what we knew. A month later, we found out the whole story, the real story, and it took us right back to day one. It was not a story that would be a quick update on Facebook and is not a story that will brighten your day. But I feel like I need to share the real story with all of you so that you know and so that I can, somehow, make a difference in honor of our Weston boy.