A Quarter of Life

Yesterday, Pete and I trudged through the six month anniversary of Owen passing away.  As I stepped on the treadmill around nine in the morning, my brain thought, 'this time six months ago my son had just died'.  My mind played that lovely game the entire day.

Six months is a long time to go without snuggling your little boy.  I dread the sixteenth of every month, but knowing I have now lived half a year without my guy seems so significant.  Owen was only with us for two short years, we have now lived a quarter of his life without him.  At the beginning of April, Pete and I celebrated our nine year wedding anniversary.  When I look at the pictures of our first year of marriage, we look like such babies.  It was an entire lifetime ago, yet it was only nine years. What will it feel like when we reach the nine year mark of living without Owen? Will I even be able to conjure up memories of him? Will I still be able to remember what he smelled like, how soft his skin was, or the flutter of his eyelashes on my cheek?

Time moving forward it is a good thing; the raw pain is slowly subsiding.  I can usually talk about Owen now without crying- something I was unable to do just two short months ago.  Time is also slowly stealing my boy away from me.  My memories become fuzzier, the pictures in my mind less sharp.  When I think of Owen, I have a mental montage of memories I sort through, but they are the same pictures over and over.  It is more difficult to recall specific details of Owen's life.  The same could be said for Ellie's babyhood, but I have her in the next room to to kiss on a whim.  Plus, I am creating new memories with her everyday.   Yesterday, a scene popped into my head about the time Owen and I went to Babies 'R Us with one of his therapists to pick out his new car seat.  It was such a funny experience with him.  A memory I had not thought of in a long time, but it made me smile.  What a particular little person he was.  If you would like to stroll down memory lane, I blogged about this experience here.

Life in the Marshall house continues to be one of questions.  We question why we bought a house two days after Owen passed away.  Our new home was picked specifically for Owen, it is beautiful, but it is Owen's house.  Why are we living here?  I frequently wish someone would have stepped in during that stressful time and stopped us.  Now we mull the 'do we move or do we stay' conversation daily.  Our cat, Vader, passed away last month. We made the decision to tell Ellie he moved to Arkansas to live with his cousin.  A letter arrived with a bus ticket and one Saturday morning while Ellie and I were at dance class, Pete brought Vader to the 'train station'.  Questionable parenting? Absolutely, but we just couldn't handle another Heaven conversation.

We are still awaiting the autopsy results on Owen's brain.  It has been six months, but we have heard nothing.  Odds are, we are not going to learn anything significant. The autopsy will mainly provide interesting information for Owen's neurologist, but we are still waiting.   It is a report about Owen, new news.  We are starved for information about our boy, so we eagerly await an autopsy report the same way other parents await a progress report about their thriving preschooler.

After spending six months exploring the options of foster adoption and sperm donation, we have made the decision that neither is the correct choice for our family right now.  Our feelings about whether we want another baby change frequently.  I struggle with whether I truly desire a new baby or I just want to recreate Owen because I miss him so much.  It is possible I will never really know the answer. If we add to our family, it will be the traditional way.  We have decided to play the genetic lottery and remain the biological parents of any future children.  We still have doubts about the genetic nature of Owen's disease.  We are not naive, we know our statistical chances of creating another Owen, but we also know we would be blessed to have another Owen in our family.  Our hopes will be for a healthy child, but we feel confident we would be amazing parents to whoever may be awaiting us in the future.

As the end of April approaches, Ellie will be celebrating turning four.  She is such a blessing in our family and we feel like such a strong team.  I never envisioned myself raising one child, but I must admit it provides for a wonderful lifestyle.  Ellie is a lucky little girl to have shared half her life with her baby brother.  She still talks about him daily, although the painful questions about why she can't join him in Heaven have ceased.  I pray she will always be able to carry him with her as she grows.

Six months.  It is still so fresh for us, but I know for others it will come as a surprise that Owen has been gone for six months.  Pete and I feel the shift, people no longer talk to us about him, ask us how we are doing.  In nine years, we will still be grieving the loss of our son.  It doesn't stop.  If you are a reader of this blog, then you most likely know a bit about Owen.  Take a minute to remember my sweet guy, if you have a memory of him,  share it with someone.  Talking about Owen can be difficult, but is far more upsetting to never speak about him at all.  To never relieve the memories of my sweet red-headed angel.

Easter 2013