Sunday, November 30, 2008

Safe Sleeping

I am so happy to hear that the SIDS Network of Kansas received a grant to distribute new cribs to their community. This is important for many reasons: 1). It sends the message that safe sleeping is an issue, 2). it tells us that our community needs help and 3). it shows what support from any commuity can do.

Kansas is listed as having the 6th highest rate of SIDS in 2006. The fact that they are doing something about it is phenominal. Safe sleeping is so critical, from having the proper bedding and sleeping arrangements to knowing how to position your baby for sleep.

Friday, November 28, 2008

Missing My Baby

I miss Hayes so much. There. I said it. And you can too. The holidays is a very tough time because we feel so much more pain. We miss our loved ones.

It takes alot of effort to feel. But it is important to do this. It does not mean that you have to sit in a corner and mope. Well, you can if you want. But, going for a walk and talking to yourself is fine. Or writing about how you feel in a diary is fine. Invite a family member to take a walk with you and share your feelings. It is ok. And it will feel good.

One thing that I have learned recently is to ask for help. It may be hard to do this because we don't want to bother others. But often they don't know that you want to talk. Let them know. They will listen.

Hayes died of SIDS a little over 6 years ago. I can only imagine how much fun it would be to see him here with our family. I will continue to grieve in the best way I know how. I have learned to live with it as time goes on, but that does not mean that the pain goes away. It really is just that-- I have learned to live with it. Living with it means addressing it, not ignoring it. Ignoring it is not living with it. Remember that it is ok to grieve.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Support That Is Bigger than Life, Or Is That What Life Is

I could only imagine the support and camaraderie that one experiences while running a marathon until Saturday, November 15, 2008. I have trouble explaining the most beautifully intense moments during my race. Seeing my friends as they passed me water, my training buddies meeting me, unexpectedly, at key points on the route to run with me, helping to pace me so that I would not go too fast (I was going too fast...). But then, one particular period in time that was filled with even more elation was at mile 20. I noticed someone was running next to me in cowboy boots. I recall thinking how odd it was. I looked up to see my brother and his son who had driven 9 hours to support me.

I have always been into fitness but have only dreamt of the level of fitness at which I am today. It took me awhile before I would start exercising again after Hayes died. A couple of friends encouraged me. My business coach pushed me as she saw me tearing up every time we talked. I had a lot of anxiety. Every detail of my life seemed enormous. Another friend bought me a pedometer. I began to live and breathe by that thing. I wore it everywhere. That is when I started walking and that quickly turned into running. I wanted more.
What I found was the therapy that it provided. I run first thing in the morning so that 1). Nothing else gets in the way of this important activity for my health and 2). It can provide me with my own time to think. Just think. I solve a lot of problems during this time and then I am ready for my day.

I was asked by a few other friends if I wanted to start running with them. Next, they asked me if I wanted to start training with them. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I went with it. Seven months later, I run a marathon and qualify for Boston. Emotions are overflowing. Check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4aJxc76jUU

Notice in this video that I say “…and I thank everybody for helping me…”

It truly amazes me how we can come together to help one another. I am so incredibly grateful. I have had this same support since the death of my child, Hayes. The beauty is realizing the love that we have as human beings. A true statement to our ability to live.