Happy Halloween!

There are amazing costumes at work today. It's pretty funny to think of the creativity contained in this box all day -- Flo from Progressive, the Balloon Boy, the money you could be saving at Geico, the H1N1 virus, everything but the kitchen sink -- I could go on and on and on.

The excitement (and sugar) have pretty much bumped everybody into the stratosphere. And, soon, we'll all come crashing down.

Among all of the laughs, my heart stings just a little. This Halloween, I was going to go as a pumpkin or a Sigourni Weaver from Aliens. I thought I'd have a nice little baby bump by now.

Why do song lyrics always say it best?

Journalists are always looking for the catchiest, most creative way to tell a story or paint a picture all the while remaining objective and accurate. So, why is it that songs always seem to say it best? Maybe it's the fogginess of the backbeat or the strums of the guitar that trick your brain into hearing things that aren't really in the songs.

Yeah, sounds a little psychedelic, I know. Think about it. It's why certain songs speak more to your soul or pull dance moves from your feet. It's why someone's heartache becomes your favorite song.

In that same vein, I'm a Dave Matthews Band fan. You either hate 'em or you love 'em. DMB's new album "Big Whiskey and the Groo Grux King" has one song that causes tears to leap into my eyes every time. The song isn't about a miscarriage or anything remotely close, but the words said what my heart won't. First, there's a story I must confess before you read the words, however.

I had a dream the night Morgan passed away. I didn't realize it at the time, but looking back in my pregnancy journal, I know the exact moment. As I naively slept, I dreamt a baby kissed me on my right cheek, right below my cheekbone. She kissed me and then smiled the most comforting and peaceful grin you've ever seen. As I turned my head to the right to try to understand, I noticed the infant had soft, white wings. Slowly, the baby rose into the sky, smiling that same grin with the bluest of eyes just looking back at me. Morgan Ashland truly is our little angel in heaven.

 

"Baby Blue" (Fast foward through the first 30 seconds)

Confess your kiss still knocks me off my legs
First time I saw you was like a punch right through my chest
I will forever because you'll forever be
My one true broken heart pieces inside of me


And you forever my baby

You will rest your head, your strength wants saving
And when you wake you will fly away
Holding tight to the legs of all your angels
Goodbye my love into your blue blue eyes in your blue blue world


You're my baby blue

Confess not quite ready to be left
Still I know I gave my level best
You give, you give, to this I can attest
You made me, you made me, you and me forever baby


You will rest your head, your strength wants saving
And when you wake, you will fly away
Holding tight to the legs of all your angels
Goodbye my love into your blue blue eyes in your blue blue world

You and me forever

A wet whirland worth more than the world

Our journey to New York City was one of the best family moments. My family -- the original four -- has visited many places in the country from Seattle to Las Vegas to Maine to Florida. This trip was different with two new faces, but the weekend was even more of a blast.

The itinerary:

We arrived in the city around 1 p.m. after getting let's just say a little lost.

We settled into our smack-in-the-middle balcony seats around 1:30 p.m., and the lights dimmed at 2. After an amazing Broadway show (seriously, you must see "Wicked"), we walked to the Hotel Edison (albeit in a round-about way).

No familiar with this famous building? You must not be Italian, or more specific Sicilian. It's from a scene in "The Godfather" when Luca Brasi meets up with Virgil Sollozzo. See, my parents were in New York a bit ago and they stumbled upon this hotel. As my dad walked up the stairs, he turns to mom and says something along the lines of "I think this is where Luca Brasi was in 'The Godfather.'" (He was right.)

After our historical movie moment, we grabbed an SUV cab to the Tavern on the Green. On a side note, the cab driver definitely jumped out of his driver's seat to yell at a soaking wet tourist who walked in front of his car with his broked umbrella. "You stuuupid, idiiiiiat! You not see da green light? You colablind? You stuuupid idiiiiant!"

Fast-forwarding to dinner, Tom and Jess asked Brent and I to be a groomsman and bridesmaid in their upcoming July 24 nuptials. We couldn't be happier.
After a wet walk back to the Hotel Beacon, we lugged our bags into our rooms. (The rooms weren't ready when we arrived before the play.)
Then, headed to The Dead Poet for a nightcap. By midnight, we were cooked and a little tipsy.

I awoke early determined to go for a run in Central Park, despite a dull headache. After 45 minutes and a brush with death (darn New York drivers), I realized the beautiful NYC Greenway never led me to my destination. I did, however, see a beautiful sunrise along the Hudson. All was definitely not lost. We made noon Mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral (beautiful), and toured midtown enjoying the sunshine.

Like I said, a beautiful, whirlwind of a trip. I think the best part was riding in the car with my parents, though. Dorky? Perhaps. Maybe now that I'm 27, I can actually admit that I like, in fact love, my mom and dad. (Don't tell the 16-year-old Laura, though. She wouldn't believe you anyhow.)

An apple day ...

We're taking a bite out of the Big Apple this weekend and trekking to bustling New York City. That's right, folks, it's about time we add a little culture to our lives.

The six of us -- Mom, Dad, Tommy, Jess, Brent and I -- are leaving before dawn from Baltimore to catch Broadway play "Wicked." In celebration of Mom and Dad's 33rd anniversary, they are taking us for a weekend away. (Yeah, I know. Don't think about that too hard. Tom and I are least springing for dinner.)

After our jaunt to Broadway,  we're heading to Tavern on the Green, which is the famous restaurant near Central Park. We'll sit beneath the glistening chandeliers and clink our glasses to love and good fortune. (Warning: Sliding into "The Godfather" realms.)

When our bellies are full and minds a-buzzing, we'll grab a stool at The Dead Poet. I'll be in bookworm heaven.

I never wanted to be the expert

I would consider myself an optimist. I try to think the best about people and situations. And compared to hubby, I'm an eternal optimist! (But, I guess you'd have to know how he can be a sour sam sometimes.)

However, ever since losing Morgan, I think the worst about those closest to me. It's the oddest hole in the pit of stomach that I can't shake. I actually find myself exploring deeper into the caverns of my soul. The places that people don't talk about. The places I wouldn't dare travel to ... until now.

Does that happen to anyone else? I almost feel depressingly freakish to admit it.

Here's an example: Brent drove to Pulaski, N.Y., for his yearly salmon fishing trip. I can't tell you how many times I had horrid images scroll through my brain all ending with him dead -- car crash, swept away down the river, carbon monoxide poisoning in the much-to-be-desired trailer he stayed in.

Ridiculousness.

The interesting part that I am still trying to grasp was the emotions that followed. I was completely calm. I thought about what I would do and say, how I would handle arrangements, where I'd go and the list went on. Then, out of the blue, I'd snap out of it and scold myself for thinking so morbidly.

I'm hoping this is just a side effect (if you will) of planning Morgan's funeral. The only other death that rocked me to my core was my Poppo's, and I was in eighth grade. I was there when he passed away, but I played no part in the preparations.

Maybe now I feel like I'm an expert on funerals, educating people on the existence of baby cemeteries, plaques and prayers. The thing is ... it's one area in which I never wanted to know everything. The silent loneliness, the unspeakable sorrow, the cloak of darkness that I can't remove.

You tell me that's not a miracle

There are so many charities in this world, it's amazing how helpful thousands of people can be. From all-things cancer to homeless outreach to support groups, there is nearly something for everyone out there. It's the ability to get behind -- and I mean really get behind -- one cause that proves to be the most challenging.

I learned that this weekend.

On Saturday, I participated in the 5K run/walk for life, benefiting the Gabriel Network.* The mission of the organization is to "support women in their decision to choose life for their unborn children by providing programs and services, through Christian friendship, within a community of faith." (Notice it's not all about being Catholic or Protestant or Luthern or ...) Gabriel Network is an ecumenical, pro-life organization that gives shelter, food and guidance to women who are embarking on an unbelievable journey. The slogan is "Nothing is Impossible with God."

I have known about GN for a few years, but I never truly realized the scope of its actions. *Disclaimer: My dad is the current president of the organization. The admirable thing about my dad is that he never preached about his efforts, only invited us to see what it was all about. On Saturday, I volunteered at 7:30 in the morning and then ran in the cross-country course in the rain and mud and cold.

I never had more fun. These people, these volunteers, poured their hearts into this effort because they know that it's God's plan at work. A little background: A few months ago the organization was about to declare bankruptcy. They had three houses where pregnant women lived, and all three houses were going to close, throwing this women onto the streets. Anonymously, thousands of dollars were donated. Now, GN has five houses and is looking to extend their programs to include minors.

You tell me that's not a miracle at work. I've ran plenty of charitable races, but this one holds a spot close to my heart.

Acceptance and understanding can't be overrated

In the midst of despair and searching for some sort of virutal community, I discovered the Miscarriage, Stillbirth and Infant Loss Blog Directory. It's a blog of sorts that basically aggregates other people's blogs that tell similar tales of fear, anxiety and the ultimate loss.

After reading several of the blogs, I realized that there was hope and happiness after burying a child. These blogs spoke of unimaginable loss. The same loss that camped out in my heart. The same fear that strangled my soul.

To my surprise, these same online journals revealed other secrets that I haven't yet experienced -- new life. These couples grow to have a family. Still, I'm stuck in the world with people such as God's Plan Not Mine and Empty Arms Open Heart.

But, hey, maybe I can help just one person cope better, breathe better, live better. The keepers of the directory added me to its list. And I couldn't be happier. Here's to all of the men and women who have suffered the same nightmare. The situations might not be the same, but the raw emotions are.