**Disclaimer** If you know me in my 'real' life and stumble across this blog- please know that I write here for healing, and to feel close to my Noah, and close to my grief. At times these letters may seem sad, angry, and at times, crazy. Please don't worry about me- this is how I help myself heal. If you have questions, just ask- if you know me well at all, you know that I love talking about my Noah.

Saturday, July 31, 2010


I 'lifted' this from Dana
It really does ring true!

What is "Normal"?
Author Unknown

  • Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the important events in your family's life.
  • Normal for me is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, Valentine's Day, July 1st and Easter.
  • Normal is feeling like you can't sit another minute without getting up and screaming, because you just don't like to sit through anything.
  • Normal is not sleeping very well because a thousand what if's & why didn't I's go through your head constantly.
  • Normal is reliving that day continuously through your eyes and mind, holding your head to make it go away.
  • Normal is having the TV on the minute I walk into the house to have noise, because the silence is deafening.
  • Normal is staring at every baby who looks like he is my baby's age. And then thinking of the age he would be now and not being able to imagine it. Then wondering why it is even important to imagine it, because it will never happen.
  • Normal is every happy event in my life always being backed up with sadness lurking close behind, because of the hole in my heart.
  • Normal is telling the story of your child's death as if it were an everyday, commonplace activity, and then seeing the horror in someone's eyes at how awful it sounds. And yet realizing it has become a part of my "normal".
  • Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child's memory and his birthday and survive these days. And trying to find the balloon or flag that fits the occasion. Happy Birthday? Not really.
  • Normal is my heart warming and yet sinking at the sight of something special my baby would have loved. Thinking how he would love it, but how he is not here to enjoy it.
  • Normal is having some people afraid to mention my baby.
  • Normal is making sure that others remember him. Normal is after the funeral is over everyone else goes on with their lives, but we continue to grieve our loss forever.
  • Normal is weeks, months, and years after the initial shock, the grieving gets worse sometimes, not better.
  • Normal is not listening to people compare anything in their life to this loss, unless they too have lost a child. NOTHING. Even if your child is in the remotest part of the earth away from you - it doesn't compare. Losing a parent is horrible, but having to bury your own child is unnatural.
  • Normal is trying not to cry all day
  • Normal is realizing I do cry everyday.
  • Normal is disliking jokes about death or funerals, bodies being referred to as cadavers, when you know they were once someone's loved one.
  • Normal is being impatient with everything and everyone, but someone stricken with grief over the loss of your child.
  • Normal is sitting at the computer crying, sharing how you feel with chat buddies who have also lost a child.
  • Normal is feeling a common bond with friends on the computer in England, Australia, Canada, the Netherlands and all over the USA, but yet never having met any of them face to face.
  • Normal is a new friendship with another grieving mother, talking and crying together over our children and our new lives.
  • Normal is not listening to people make excuses for God. "God may have done this because..." I love God, but hearing people trying to think up excuses as to why healthy babies were taken from this earth is not appreciated and makes absolutely no sense to this grieving mother.
  • Normal is being too tired to care if you paid the bills, cleaned the house, did laundry or if there is any food.
  • Normal is wondering this time whether you are going to say you have any children when asked, because you will never see this person again and it is not worth explaining that my baby is in heaven. And yet when you say you don't have any children to avoid that problem, you feel horrible as if you have betrayed your baby.
  • Normal is avoiding McDonalds and Burger King playgrounds because of small, happy children that break your heart when you see them.
  • Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a funeral than a wedding or birthday party...yet feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers and see the casket.
  • Normal is asking God why he took your child's life instead of yours and asking if there even is a God.
  • Normal is knowing I will never get over this loss, in a day or a million years.
  • And last of all, Normal is hiding all the things that have become "normal" for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think that you are "normal". 

    Daddy, Charlotte and I are going to go on vacation on Tuesday. We will miss you while we are there. We are going to see your cousin, Norah, Uncle Peter's little baby girl.  It might be a little sad for Mummy at times- Because Norah looks a little like you- and her name is so similar- and she was sick when she was born- but Mummy is also very excited about seeing and cuddling and kissing her. 

    We love you baby boy. Lots of extra hugs from Mummy.
    Love you forever, 

Friday, July 23, 2010

Noah, Hello Goodbye. I'll see you on the other side

** You will need to scroll down and pause the blog music so you can listen to the song.. or it might get confusing!

** There is no video- only audio.
This was written by the artist, Michael W. Smith, for friends of his, who lost their son, Noah, as an infant. He could have written it for me.

Here are the lyrics if you want to follow along

Hello, Goodbye- Michael W. Smith

Where's the Navigator of your destiny?
Where is the Dealer of this hand?
Who can explain life and its brevity
'Cause there is nothing here that I can understand

You and I have barely met
And I just don't want to let go of you yet


Noah, hello, goodbye
I will see you on the other side
Noah, sweet child of mine
I will see you on the other side

And so I hold your tiny hand in mine
For the hardest thing I've ever had to face
Heaven calls for you before it calls for me
When you get there, save me a place

A place where I can share your smile
And I can hold you for more than just a while


I think I've shared these lyrics before. But I haven't been able to find an audio version until now- other than the one i bought on itunes. 


Thursday, July 22, 2010


Hi Baby Boy,
I love you.
I miss you so much
This summer I miss all the things that you and your little sister could be doing together
Swimming, going for walks/stroller rides, helping with the gardening, having afternoon naps, going over to friends houses.... it's not the same without you

I love you forever my beautiful baby boy,

Thursday, July 15, 2010

10th Annual Lucas Holtom Carnival

One of the ministers at the church we attend, North Bramalea United Church, has been a huge support for Matt and I.  Not only because he's a minister, and he's supposed to be of support to people- but because he understands- first hand.
Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of the Pine Lake Tornado, in Alberta, Canada, where Lucas Holtom, their 2 year old son, died. - so did 11 other people.
Here is a video of Jamie and Katrina being interviewed for the 10th anniversary
Once you are at the link, look to the right and click on 'CTV News Channel: Jamie and Katrina Holtom'


Here is beautiful Lucas

and his parents, at one of the 10 Lucas Holtom Carnivals!

Every year, there is a big, FREE carnival in Brampton, next to the church, called the Lucas Holtom Carnival. It's great tos ee the joy on kids and parents faces because of this free fun! It gets bigger every year!
Here is a picture of me this year, Matt and I volunteered!

Everyone has a tragedy in their live... but the death of a child... that's a big one.
Don't we know it.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Do you remember?

Dear Noah,

Do you remember coming into this world?
Do you remember your loud cry?
your long fingers?
Do you remember?
I do

Do you remember our very first cuddle?
Do you remember how special it was?
Do you remember how we both instantly felt?
I knew I loved you- I knew life would never be the same
Do you remember?
I do

Do you remember getting your diaper changed for the first time?
Your Grandmothers changed you
Do you remember?
I do

Do you remember our cuddles?
Do you remember how you felt on my chest?
Do you remember the love?
I do

Do you remember Mummy looking into your eyes?
I just couldn't stop
There was something so magical and loving about them
Do you remember looking back at Mummy?
Telling her all you needed to- with one glance?
Do you remember?
I do

Do you remember that one special cuddle?
You know the one- don't you?
On April 7th 2008- at about 9pm
When we thought you had years to live
That cuddle was so special
It's etched in Mummy's heart forever
Do you remember?
I do

Do you remember them taking you away?
Into a land of beeping machines and plastic tubes
Do you remember Mummy crying and holding your hand?
Do you remember?
I do

Do you remember the new hospital?
Full of children
Do you remember the nurses, the surgeon?
They tried to help you
Do you remember?
I do

Do you remember being wrapped in your green blanket?
Being held ever so gently by your family
Do you remember us singing to you?
The sound of your Mummy's voice, and your Daddy's tears?
Do you remember?
I do

Do you remember when you opened your eyes for the last time?
You looked at me
You looked at Daddy
You used everything you had to squeeze our hands
Do you remember?
I do

Do you remember when we let you go?
We had to.
You told us it was time
Do you remember taking a piece of me with you?
Do you remember feeling all our love?
Do you remember?
I do

Can you  still see me?
Loving you?
Taking care of you the only way we know how
Cherishing your Memory

Can you still see me?
Standing by your grave
Crying, hugging
Looking at all those babies who are with you
feeling sad for their parents too

Can you still see me?
Talking about you to your sister?
Putting your names in our songs?
Trying all we can to include you in everything

Can you still see me?
Crying at night?
trying to smile?
loving you?

Can you still see me?
I see you
Are you still with me?
You're with me
Am I still your mother?
You're my son
Do you still need me?
I need you.
Do you remember?
I do

I love you Noah.
Living without you doesn't get easier. It gets more normal- because I can't have it any other way.. but it doesn't get easier.
It's hot out today.... I'm sure we'd be swimming in the pool, and Charlotte would be napping in her stroller...instead, I'm writing this to you, and Charlotte is in her crib, napping.
I wish a lot of things were different
I wish I knew that I was a good mum
I wish I knew that I am a good mum
Today is a hard day for mummy.. nothing is going right, and it all remind me of how so much went right with you- and then.. one thing goes wrong- and my world as I know it is over.

I love you little guy.. you're the bestest boy in the world
Love you forever,

Friday, July 2, 2010

Hi Baby... I love you.... forever