Tuesday, March 07, 2006


I went back to work Monday. It wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. I have a million things to do it seems--I don't know how I will get everything done--but I expected everyone to be talking to me about Theo, offering condolences, discussing things with me and I didn't want that. And nobody did. A few people just hugged me or said, "Welcome back" or took my hand or patted my back. It was nice. I just can't do a lot of talking about Theo at work, or I won't be able to focus or keep from crying. And I don't want to do that there.

I went yesterday evening to get my taxes done and the lady who does my taxes, who I see once a year, said, "how was your year" and I just couldn't keep from crying. I said, "The last time I was here, I was pregnant". And told the shortest possible version of the story. She was shocked. I guess it isn't what you expect to hear every day. But she was sweet and very helpful.

I am hoping to hear tomorrow or the next day from the lady in charge of the space I want to use for Theo's memorial so that I can post more details and make plans for his service. Keep checking. I will post as soon as I hear with the location, date and time.

We continue to get cards daily and they are so appreciated. Also, we have recieved nearly one hundred stuffed animals (not counting the small ones like beany babies, of which we have about 40) and I know some friends of ours have more animals to bring over. I am planning to make little cards to tie to their arms or around their necks that say something like, "This animal is given with love to you from Baby Theo". I want to keep a few to have at the memorial, but we plan to take a bunch to the hospital in the next week or so.

It's strange, in some ways it feels like everything happened so long ago. I can hardly belive it's only been two weeks, and in other ways it seems just a few seconds ago that he was here with us. All of his things still around me, everything the same, except he is not here. I can close my eyes and breathe in and bring his sweet face to my mind so clearly. I remember vividly the feeling of kissing his soft skin, his little feet, his chubby thighs. Every time I changed his diaper I kissed his legs and his feet, his toes and his knees. I remember the smell of his hair, breathing in his breath with my own. We watched a show the other night about quantum physics, our perceptions of "reality" etc., and in one part they talked about a study done with brain scans where a person was shown something, a candle burning, an event taking place, whatever, and certain areas of the brain lit up on the scan showing certain kinds of brain activity when the event or object was percieved. For the next scan, the subject was asked to simply recall seeing the same exact thing with the eyes closed and, wouldn't you know, the very same areas of the brain lit up, indicating that the brain doesn't know the difference between what it actually "sees" and what it remembers or visualizes seeing. This is why dreams seem so very real to us--to our brains, and without the benefit of waking consciousness, they are real. So it begs the question of who or what really sees or percieves things, events, reality? If it's true then that what we recall or visualize is just as real to our brains as what we actually, in the moment (in reality)experience, that means that in my mind, with only my memory of him, I can completely and authentically, re-experience being with Theo.
And I have been able to close my eyes, see him clearly in my mind, his face, his eyes, his mouth, his little hands, his soft belly, his perfect, soft skin, and feel the love in my heart, feel him, almost as if he is really here with me. The problem is not with my brain, but with my heart, which doesn't forget that he is gone. When I open my eyes, he is not there, neither can my fingers touch him or my arms hold him. And it breaks my heart hundreds of times throughout the day. But it doesn't take away from the memory, the love and the feeling that for just a second, I can almost sense him close by, filling my mind and heart, feeling his love. So whatever reality is, I don't know. While it is interesting, that study doesn't offer me all that much comfort--even if my brain doesn't know the difference, my heart and my mind do.

I have no idea how to go through this--I guess it is a little different and somewhat similar for everyone who must face it. I am thankful that we have each other and that we have so much love and support from so many wonderful friends and family, even ones we have never met.



Aidan said...

Just happened upon your blog while searching out a friends.....What a terrible tragedy that nobody should have to face. My son turns 14 this Friday and I cannot imagine your pain. I am hopeful your writings help with your healing.

London, Ontario

Anonymous said...

Dear Karla,

Here is the poem I wrote for Theo. I am definitely not a poet, but I was at a loss for what to do or say. So I decided to write this for him:

And come the day
when I see you again,
where we remind each other
that this was the plan

All along,
we knew this would be,
but while on earth
it was hard to see

That there was a purpose
behind all the pain,
that you weren't born
just to die in vain

You taught us to love deeply
and appreciate life,
despite all it's setbacks
sadness and strife

To take every moment
like it could be our last,
to reconnect with loved ones
we've lost touch with in the past

So when we are sad
and get lost in the pain,
please remind all of us
in those little ways...

The smile of children
the stars in the sky,
the sun on my face
the dragonfly

We will always remember
you've touched my soul,
the world is a better place
because you were here, baby Theo.


Anonymous said...


What's left to us now are the memories,
Of love and joy and pain,
Memories of a smile, a laugh, a touch,
What can never come again,

The plans we made were not to be,
Our world has come apart,
What now will fill that empty place,
Deep here in the heart?

We still listen for your noises,
Mornings we meet with dread,
AS we pass the door to the empty room,
That holds your empty bed,

A sense of painful longing,
The need to feel your touch,
Something we'll feel every day we live,
Child we love so much,

Our lives must now move on,
And here's something you must know,
You'll be forever with us,
Where ever we may go,

You showed us what it was to love,
And what it is to trust,
As long as we are on this earth,
You'll be a part of us,

We love you Little Dragonfly.....and love is Never having to say......goodbye.

Kathy Straughn