Irreplaceable

Today is a milestone day here in the Robinson household. I’ve made it to 39 weeks with pregnancy #4 which has felt more like 16 months instead of the usual 9, and our little baby boy will be making his grand entrance into the world via C-section sometime mid-morning if all goes according to plan. I’ve battled insomnia for the past 4 months, so the fact that I’m wide awake right now instead of resting up before a major surgery is no surprise. I’ve done all the nesting and made all the preparations, so instead of staring at walls or listening to political commentaries, I have decided to do what gives me peace and clarity which is writing a blog post. 

While scrolling FB earlier and clicking on my memories shortly after midnight, I was prompted for today’s topic on the blog. I discovered a photo from Oct. 23rd, 2015 that truly just boggled my mind. I couldn’t help but think of how drastically my life has turned completely upside-down by looking at the photo. It seriously just doesn’t seem possible that so much has changed in such a short amount of time.

In this photo I’m standing outside of the high school where I taught Spanish for 12 years. On each side of me is one of my children- Caroline to my right and Carter to my left. They were beaming with pride for their Mama that day, especially Carterbug, as I had been named Teacher of the Year. I was wearing a special football jersey to participate in a half-time recognition ceremony at the Friday night football game which was preceded by a catered cookout with all the other winners in our district and their families. I had just received my financial gift and the assistant superintendent of education had given the kids little bullhorns, pompoms, and bells. Caroline was holding her bullhorn up and blowing it while Carter had his arm wrapped around me and was grinning from ear to ear. He always took such pride in me being a teacher and would brag to people about what I did which always made me feel amazing. I knew he was proud of me, and that night is truly one that stands out in my mind as a treasured memory. 

What’s so staggering to me is how much has changed in my life since then. In just 5 short years I have experienced more change than some people do in decades. Literally! First of all, I’m no longer teaching. I stepped away from the classroom to be a stay-at-home mom. Secondly, Caroline is no longer the little girl pictured in the photo. She has grown up seemingly overnight. Now she’s taller than me at 5’9″, wears a size 9.5 shoe, and is a student at the very high school in the district where I taught. Carter is no longer physically with us here. His address has been changed to Heaven and we love and miss him everyday and long for him with every fiber of our being. We will never get used to not having him here with us. It’s a hurt and torment that we bury down deep most days because it’s not possible to thrive if we allow ourselves to actually absorb the enormity and finality of our loss. We stay busy and try to remember the good times we had with him while clinging to the hope we will be reunited one day and all sorrow will be gone. Some days we function better than others. 

What has helped with my healing as a grieving mother perhaps more than anything is what has transpired in our family just these past 2 years. Last year in April, I gave birth to a healthy and robust little girl named Carlen Elisabeth who just turned 18 months old. She gives me such joy with her innocence and sweetness. She’s a Mama’s girl who clings to me and follows me around and relies on me for so many of her needs. It has been good for me to feel needed by someone again. My oldest daughter, Caroline, has always been fiercely independent. She was never a snuggle baby, has always wanted to do things by herself without assistance (as a 2-year-old she would often adamantly proclaim, “I do it!”), and is truly self-reliant. This has worked well in her favor since the passing of her best friend and brother because she has in her possession the inner fortitude and resilience to have been able to overcome so many obstacles resulting from her brother’s suicide. In times when her Daddy and I were barely able to face a day, she was our rock and example many times. We were strong because SHE was strong. Having said that, she hasn’t needed me to help her process through her grief or to be a solace for her. She’s a Daddy’s girl. If she opens up, it’s to him. If she wants comfort and laughs, she goes to him. They are so much alike that I’m often left feeling like an outsider but I don’t resent it. I’m glad they have that closeness and bond. It’s how Carter and I were together, so I totally get it. When I lost him, I lost that sense of being needed. Furthermore, I lost that sense of having a child of mine who not only physically resembled me in many ways but was so much like me in soul and spirit, too. He never failed to make me feel loved and important to him. Having Carlen has brought some of those same feelings back. She looks at me like I’m her whole world and gravitates towards me. I credit this because I’m home with her all day- not because I’m anything special, but it sure does my heart good. 

When I found out I was pregnant with her a year after losing Carter, I worried how I would be perceived by others. I never wanted people to think that we were trying to replace our son that we had lost by having another child. I wondered how I would feel if the baby was a boy. How conflicted would I feel welcoming a son into the world when I had just buried one not that long ago? When we found out the baby was girl, I was so relieved. Caroline had expressed a desire to have a sister, and I didn’t have to worry about the baby being a boy and looking like Carter and how that would make me feel. Little did I know that the baby girl couldn’t possibly be more identical to her brother in heaven if she tried, and that it would be OK- it would actually bring me comfort to see so many resemblances. Long eyelashes, dark wispy hair, big blue eyes, a darker skin tone, etc. in addition to their personality traits and interests…my, oh my, how uncanny it is to see so much of him reflected in her. 

Now I’m about to face what I feared last year…welcoming a son into the world. I’m so ecstatic about meeting him and getting to hold him for the first time in just a few short hours I can hardly stand it. But I’m a little scared, too. He’s a boy. I lost a boy and am getting another one. I feel so blessed but now I’ll be a mother to a son here on earth again, and I don’t want anyone at anytime to think that Carter has been replaced. HE WILL NEVER EVER EVER be replaced. I don’t know where these feelings of guilt and anxiety are coming from, really. I’ve had no indication from anyone that they think that way or are judging us for expanding our family. I just have this desire to set the record straight in black and white that while we are so thrilled with the opportunity to be parents to more children since losing our son in 2017,  and while their lives have brought us healing in so many ways, the fact of the matter is that the hurt from Carter’s passing is still very much a part of us. The void that we have in our family will always be there. Carlen and Carsen are not patches or repairs in the torn fabric of our family quilt. There are holes from Carter’s death that simply can’t be mended, and there are plenty of tearstains and dirt from dragging ourselves through the valley of grief. Instead, these babies are more like new patches to our quilt which help to add beauty to something that is broken and irreparable. Jesus Christ is our border…He’s holding all the beauty and brokenness together until the very fabric of our beings can be truly mended on the other side of eternity spent with Him. 

Dear Carter,

I wish I had words to convey my heart to you. I just have to trust that you know somehow. I love you, son, and I hope that the Lord sees fit to allow you to take a peek through the windows of heaven today to see the unfolding beauty of new life. New life because of you. Carsen James is here because you had a hand in his story. I promise that he will know all about you, just like Carlen does. She points to your picture and says your name just about every day. She plays with your trains and loves planes, cars, and coloring just as much as you did when you were her age. She also loves reading and music. She’s so smart, Carter- just like you were. It scares me because I think I may have somehow put pressure on you to succeed and maybe the sense of failing me somehow or disappointing me was a factor in your suicide. I don’t want to put pressure on her to be anything great in school or to equate her intelligence with her worth, so I’m parenting her differently than I did with you. I praise her all the time, but I try to frame it in a way where it’s not just me saying, “You’re so smart/good” but more like, “Way to go! You did it!” so that she takes ownership of what she’s doing and doesn’t rely on my feedback to give her a sense of worth. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt your worth or if you thought that my love was conditional on anything you did/didn’t do. I’m just so sorry, Carter. I did the best I knew how and was lacking in so many ways but I did try to love you with all my heart. I’m sorry that you didn’t know it or feel it enough to want to stay, buddy.

I trust that you’ll continue to send me signs from heaven that you’re OK and still sending love from above. While in the Hallmark store today searching for a baby book to take to the hospital for the nurses to get Carsen’s footprints, I made sure to scan the ornaments for this year’s butterfly edition. Christmas ornaments were always special and you enjoyed picking out a unique one each holiday season. The year that we lost you in 2017, Hallmark launched what is known as “The Brilliant Butterfly Series” that will include 12 ornaments in total. No coincidence that the first edition was a blue one. In 2018 it was a gold and white one. In 2019 it was another blue one. This year, it’s an ugly one, buddy. I can’t even lie about it. I’ll get it, because duh…it’s part of the collection, but it’s an orange one and it has silver accents. I think gold would have blended better if I do say so myself. Anyway, as I was looking at this ugly ornament and feeling disappointed that it wasn’t nowhere near as magnificent as the others have been, I glanced to my left and saw a tiny blue butterfly ornament. This one was referred to on its box as an “Itty Bitty” edition, and I just smiled when I saw it. I could just hear your sweet voice giggling and telling me, “Look, Mama- quit pouting…here’s you a blue one for this year after all. You happy now?”

I love you so much, my sweet boy. You’ll always have my heart, my first-born precious child. Nothing will ever change that and nobody will ever fill the void you’ve left behind. I’m still striving to make you proud of me. You’re still my inspiration to be a good Mama. I had to learn from you as you were my first. I’m sorry for all the times I failed you. I hope you know it was never intentional and if I could go back and do some things differently, I certainly would. I’d hold you tighter and longer and never take one single breath for granted.

I pray your presence is felt today as I welcome your brother into the world. While I hold him in my arms, just know you are forever held in my heart and mind.

Love always,

Mama