Friends! Thanks so much for stopping by! I invite you to visit my NEW website @ http://www.amyrochellebowser.com/

All of your favorite posts have been moved and I will be adding new ones daily. It's been a hectic 6 months for us but as soon as the holidays are over I can promise you that I'll be back to writing!

Much love to you all!

XOXO

Amy

The Innoncence Inside a Box of Crayons

When I was younger I remember the excitement of opening a brand new box of crayons and pressing a freshly sharpened stick of pigmented wax to a piece of paper to create a masterpiece that was fitting to my imagination. I have watched that same anticipation in my daughter with a new box of crayons since I trusted her to color on paper and not the walls. And every year since being old enough to go to school, we go shopping for supplies and I watch her as she eagerly chooses a fresh box of crayons to bring to her new classroom. This year in particular she chose the box with the brightest pink because “Mama the pink is brighter in this box.” Details. So we purchased the rest of the supplies on the list and then went home and boxed everything up in her brand new rainbow colored, Dalmatian pencil box that came with a lock and key. Another exciting moment in her life as she placed everything neatly in that little metal box and tucked it away along with all of the other school supplies in her new backpack.

As I watched her that day I wondered how much longer I would have these innocent moments with her. I wondered how much longer she would beam with pride when opening that new box of crayons and prudently choose each crayon as each serves its own purpose in bringing her picture to life. Surely, this being her last year in elementary school, it will be the last year that a box of crayons will be seen on her school supply list. Next year will be an entirely different school, different faces and just another milestone to add to the already growing list. Those crayons have not only played a significant role in developing and expanding her creativity, but they have also abetted in reserving her innocence. It’s an innocence that I have watched slowly fade as she now declines my hugs before we depart in the school hallway every morning.

My not so little girl survived her first week of third grade, just as I knew she would, however I’m still trying to recover from the fact that time is moving entirely way too fast for me and I now have a third grader. As much as I try to preserve her innocence, I have observed her maturity and desire to branch out lately. I see it when she lets go of my hand while we walk side by side and again when she chooses time with her friends over time spent with me. There was a moment while we were on vacation recently where I had to compose myself and keep the tears from falling after we entered into an elevator and she didn’t request to push the button like usual. I reflected back on the days when pushing that button was such an accomplishment for her. Her face radiated with triumph after figuring out which was the correct number to push and she was fascinated with how such a thing could transport us to different levels in a building. It’s moments like that that I have taken for granted for all of these years. And now that they are gone, I realize how significant those moments were in substantiating her innocence.

The night before the big day, I laid in bed with her and begged her to stop growing; to stay right where she is so that I could enjoy her being my little girl forever. “But Mama, if I stay little forever you won’t get to keep watching me grow up and do great stuff.”  She is wise beyond her years. I am certain that the days that she will allow me to choose her outfit the night before the first day of school are gone. The days that she’d allow me to hold her hand on the way in to the once big and terrifying building that held new faces are few and far between. And gone are the days that she’d dare to let me kiss her goodbye in front of all the now familiar faces that she looks forward to seeing each day. Time is flying and my baby is changing. The few things I do have left that attest to her innocence will also dwindle and become valued memories. But for now, we still have movie snuggles and goodnight kisses. We still have the nights that she will call to us from her bed asking if she can sleep in our bed. We still have the echoes of animal sounds coming from the playroom as she plays with her farm set that she insisted on buying from a yard sale. We still have coloring books and indubitably, we still have crayons.

I Surrender

My husband and I ran our first 5k together today. I welled up with tears as I crossed the finish line. Not because I knew I placed among the first 10, but because two months ago this was not possible. Two months ago I laid in a hospital bed in the ICU unsure if I was coming home to my family.

I haven’t wanted to talk about it. When the man who witnessed it all courageously brings it up, I walk away. Of course he wants to talk about, he almost lost his wife and those were his babies too. But I am weak and I am damaged. Weak because I am afraid of the darkness. Damaged because all I have known for the last year is pain. But the ruthless memories of that painful season continually find their way back to me and I know now that it’s time to face my fears.

We were reluctant to try and get pregnant again but we didn’t want to spend our lives wondering what if. Six months ago we found ourselves back at the infertility clinic asking for help. We spent two weeks anxiously anticipating if it had worked. We spent another two grateful for another chance. And then we spent another ten paralyzed with fear after discovering that we were having twins. I was at even more of a risk being pregnant with two babies because of my history. And I was no longer a candidate for the procedure that we hoped would keep me pregnant. I prayed to God each night to wrap his arms around my growing babies and keep them safe until they were developed enough to live in this world with us. Ten weeks of sleepless nights. Ten weeks of overlooking the present because we were so afraid of the future. And then our worst fears had come true. I could see the look of concern on the ultra sound technicians face. Proof once our doctor had confirmed. Baby A’s fluid was low and my cervix had shortened. One week later it was immeasurable. I was admitted to the hospital right away; right in the same room where we found ourselves last summer. This wasn’t real life. It couldn’t have been. But it was. Four days went by and there was no activity. We were given hope for Baby B. We were told Baby A would not live once he was born. If this was the sacrifice we had to make then we would get through it, we said. Just seven more weeks and our baby’s life was viable. We went home and I spent the next two days bedridden and scared, but we were hopeful. And then life took another turn. It’s a blur from there. I have flashbacks of my husband driving manically for two hours to get me to the hospital. Flashbacks of the pain that shot through my body as it prepared for labor. Flashbacks of him calling to me as I went in and out of consciousness as sickness took over my body. Several nurses swarmed into my room. I cried in pain and I was begging my babies not to go. I didn’t want this to be over. I can’t do this again, I thought. My prayers were not answered. I felt every agonizing contraction before I delivered Baby A, yet I vaguely remember holding him. Everything was happening so fast. I heard the doctor discussing the possibility of needing the rapid response team to come in and I saw a look of terror in my husband’s face. As I was being transferred to another hospital I was suddenly begging God not to take me too. I labored Baby B in the ICU of another hospital. My husband stood there watching helplessly as I received blood transfusions, bags upon bags of IV fluids, test after test and as I cried in pain both physically and emotionally. Infection was flowing through my bloodstream taking away my ability to focus on my twins. I couldn’t understand why this was happening to us again. Not only did we just lose our twins; our two sons that we prayed like hell for, but now we weren't sure what the status of my own health was.

My body betrayed me yet again. It gave up on my pregnancy and two more lives that deserved to be here with us. Left me to grieve again. Took away my ability to take in a painful yet desperate moments with my sons. I desperately wish I could have those painful memories of holding my sons because they confirm their lives. They put faces to the lives I carried inside of me for four months. But I can’t remember and that brings more pain than my loss’s themselves. Those moments were taken from me. I missed my little sister’s wedding and lost precious time with my daughter while I spent the next week in the hospital recovering. These are the memories I am left with and cannot bare to relive. My family has endured more pain in the last year than some people do in a lifetime.

So instead of reliving the pain, I tucked those memories away when we got home from the hospital. I put on a face for everyone around me so that they wouldn't have to feel sorry for me. I shot my husband down every time he reached out to me with pain in his heart. I thought that if I just forgot about everything I wouldn't have to hurt anymore. But today, as I crossed the finish line, I thought of them. I thought about all of them. When I started this journey, it was for Brody. I blogged about his life with the hope of helping someone else who has experienced loss. After I lost the twins I lost my passion. Passion for writing, running and everything else that speaks to my soul. Today we ran for a great cause. For every woman fighting and who is a survivor of breast cancer. But today we also ran to remember them. To remember that we are strong no matter what challenges have come our way. Today we faced our fears and I am no longer afraid of the darkness that comes with pain.

To the Man Who Raised Me, I Give You My Blessing

My five year old memories are a little hazy, but I remember this to be the year of my life that you entered. The year of my life that life forever changed. You had no idea what you were getting into. But how could you as you had no children of your own. I was a confused little girl who had no idea how to be a daugther to a Father as mine had left me wondering, but you held on and attempted to show me. It's no secret that we struggled in maintaining a relationship. I stretched your love thin and pushed you away. You pushed right back not knowing how to handle me yet you never walked out the door. Today, you may not know it, but I haven't forgotten. I haven't forgotten about the many nights you would come to my rescue when I cried of an earache in the middle of the night. Or when you doctored my bloody elbows and knees almost every summer night after falling from my bike. I remember catching cray fish in Grandpa's creek while you told me stories of your own childhood in that same creek. I remember Cat Stevens playing in the car while you shared lessons of life with me hoping that they would stick. I remember playing catch with you in the backyard and how you patiently reminded me over and over again to turn my glove so that I could catch the ball. I remember how you would ask me to go on walks with you always repeating that I need to walk on the inside because it's your job to protect me. I didn't know what you were protecting me from then, but I get it now. I haven't forgotten the way you held me when I would cry for the man who left me, when you secretly wished that it was you that I was crying for. I didn't understand it then, but you assured me that I didn't deserve a man that left me wondering why I wasn't good enough to stay and love me. You reminded me time and time again that you would never leave. That you loved me and that I was good enough. I know I didn't listen. I know I made it difficult for you to love me. I remember how you struggled as I got older. I tested you and you certainly lost your patience. Who could blame you really. I was a stubborn child who never let you forget that you were my abandoners shadow. We fought tooth and nail and sometimes we'd go days without even so much as looking in one anothers direction. But I remember when you finally gave in. You'd yell at first and remind me of my faults. And then you'd reassure me that you loved me and that you just wanted what was best for me. For many years I didn't allow you to be my Father. You lived with the consequences of my first Dad's decisions just as I allowed them to mold our relationship into the turbulent one it was. But today, I want you to know that I give you my blessing. Today I want you to know that you are and always have been my Father. My Dad, my rescuer, my knight in shining armour. Sure, we struggled to bond. But today, I have one of the greatest gifts you could have given me. My first Dad had erased me, but when you appeared into my life you changed it and I never had to wonder if you would be the next one to leave me. You taught me how to be who I am today. That I am worthy of love and what it means to love back. You taught me that a Father's love is unconditional and because of you I have found in my husband what I have found in you.

Today we celebrate you and express gratitude for the relationship that we have. But today I also want you to know that you are celebrated everyday and everyday I am grateful for the bond that we have. Today, and everyday, I give you my blessing to be my Dad. Because you have always been and always will be. Thank you for being the Dad that my first one couldn't. For contributing to who I am today and showing me the ways of life. For making life fun and for coming to my rescue everytime I need you. For loving me no matter what decisions I made and for forgiving me for the mistakes I made. I love you Dad. Happy Father's Day!



 

 

 

 



We Can't Do This Alone

A couple of weeks ago someone had asked me when I was going to post another 'inspirational' blog. I was flattered to say the least, but to be completely honest, I haven't been feeling very 'inspirational' lately. I've got worries on my mind and in my heart that are beyond my control but I can't seem to let them go. I've been wrestling with doubts and fighting off the demons of fear for so long that I've secluded myself from the world around me. The idea of sharing this with anyone is extremely daunting, so instead, I've been hiding behind the mask of perfection. We all do this in our own way, don't we? We live in a world full of judging eyes and opinionated mouths, so naturally we would throw a mask on and put on a façade that leads people to believe that everything is OK out of fear of being arbitrated. But isn't that just another burden to stack onto our shoulders?

When our children are scared or upset, don't we encourage them to talk to us? To lay their fears and worries on our shoulders? And don't we comfort them in return? Suddenly after offering our love and validation our child feels more settled, right? So why should we be any different from the person we are trying to raise.

When I was living in one of my darkest moments I had friends that came out of the woodwork offering their support, a shoulder to cry on and even homemade dinners because somehow they just knew that something as little as attempting to prepare a meal would be a very difficult task to accomplish. I feared their judgment but they proved me wrong. I allowed myself to use their shoulders when I needed them the most and before I knew it I began to feel the weight lift from my own. But for some reason seeking out those shoulders has proven to be extremely intimidating. Why is that? Why are we so afraid to be vulnerable?

Of course life isn't really all that bad, but I've discovered that fear and worry have a way of magnifying situations. It's paralyzing, ya know? Suddenly, it becomes hard to see beyond whatever is burdening our lives. And if you're like me (there has to be someone else out there like me) you allow your mask to hide these burdens because speaking of them makes them that much more real and surely we don't want to inflict our problems on anyone else. And let's be honest, we don't want anyone to see past our less than perfect lives. I know I don't. I want the world to see a smile and believe there is truth behind it, because that's inspirational. But there's beauty behind ashes, isn't there? And sometimes we need a little help to come out of the fire. Maybe that's the truth that's really inspirational.

So that's what I did. I had been hiding away so long that I forgot what the sunlight feels like against my skin and what fresh air does for my soul. I went outside with a great book that had been sitting on my nightstand for two months and I let my skin soak up the bright sun while taking in the fresh air. And then I read something encouraging that I so desperately needed to hear. Because I need inspiration too. Let me explain.

Becky Thompson is an incredible author and in her book, Hope Unfolding, she writes:

"You know, I have read many articles that say if you want to have a better relationship with your spouse, you need to do x, y, z. If you want more peace in your home, then you need to do x, y, z. And many of those ideas just might work. They might produce temporary joy, temporary love, and temporary peace. But they will run out. Love and patience and peace that we try to manufacture with our own hands will always run out because these things aren't coming from the over flow of our hearts."

And then:

"Rather than stay close to Jesus and let Him carry it all for us, we often just give Him some of it. 'Here Jesus. You can hold the things that I can't, but I can clearly manage the rest of this on my own.' When really, we should just give him everything."

Is it just me, or does this put a lump right in your throat and hit you right in the feels? Maybe it hit me just right because I found it to perfectly fit with my own life. Look, this isn't about God, or beliefs. This is so much more. It has to do with the burdens of life that we all too often carry on our shoulders alone. We aren't meant to walk through life alone. Whether you let the weight become His, or someone that you love and trust, let someone carry the weight with you.

We can hide behind the mask of happiness and perfection all we want, but at the end of the day we are still tired. And we are still worried and fearful. So in attempt to find my faith again through the darkness of fear and worry I contacted someone that I trust. And then I poured my heart out to the other end of the phone. I took my mask off. And you know what?  I hung up feeling like weights had been lifted. I shared my burdens with someone else; but not for them to keep. Hear me friend. Sometimes we need to acknowledge our pain with others so that we can feel validated. So that they can help us to see another perspective because we can become blinded by our own manifestations of a problem. I can sleep a little better tonight knowing that I'm not the only one that feels the way I do. (What do you know, there are people like me) That how I feel is OK and maybe light can be found in the solutions that were offered.

Maybe you are a new parent and are trying to figure this new role out. Maybe you're trying to navigate a new road in your marriage, or you're struggling to meet a deadline at your job or striving to please your boss. Maybe you've just come to a cross road in your life where not a whole lot makes sense and you're confused about what the next route is. Is your seven year old challenging everything that you say like mine? Or maybe she's growing up right before your eyes and you just need to cry to someone about it. Maybe you hate your job and you are desperate for a way out. Has someone that you love left you in the dark about your relationship? I don't know, maybe you're a lot more like me than you thought and you're just over analyzing the way someone looked at you or something someone said to you.

Whatever your struggle may be, remember that you don't have to do it alone. One thing I know for sure in my chaotic, crazy and confusing life is that I am glad that I don't have to. Many thanks to my new found friend for uplifting me today. And to my book, the sun and the fresh air because it spoke to my soul.

Discovering Purpose Behind Tragedy

My husband and I had the privilege of speaking on the parents panel at the Western New York Perinatal Bereavement Network's Resolve Through Sharing Training on Friday to share our story of loss in front of doctors, nurses and other medical personnel. This was very near and dear to our heart's not only because it aids in our grief journey, but also because it was important to us to share with doctors, nurses and other caregivers the importance of bereavement care through our own experiences. When I started sharing my experiences with loss I had no idea where it would lead. Of course, I knew I was taking a risk in putting myself out there and potentially making others feel uncomfortable. I know pregnancy and child loss are very sensitive topics, but I also know that there are people out there who are desperate to find their own voice; that need to be validated and reassured that their own loss is not insignificant. I also know that what I experienced with medical personnel in accordance with both of my loss's was not anything I would ever want anyone else to have to endure. So began my journey of making a difference. In addition to starting my blog last year, I also submitted my story to the WNY Perinatal Bereavement Network with hopes that it would be shared in their newsletter and help others who were also experiencing grief in child loss. I was linked to this organization after my loss with Brody and have received an incredible amount of support from the women who run the network. Shortly after submitting my story I was asked to be apart of the parent panel for the RTS Training and my journey was confirmed. This is what I was called to do. So many signs have been placed in front of me since the loss of my son's, and coincidentally, the same day we spoke was the same day that I found out I was pregnant with Brody last year.

Our story has reached so many people, but even if it were to have just found one person, my mission would have been fulfilled. We are stronger because of sharing and we are making a difference in the lives of so many. I know you all have heard my story but it has gained such a bigger purpose and for that I am forever grateful. I have attached a small piece of my speech to share with you all.

I stand before you today on the one year anniversary that my husband and I found out we were pregnant with Brody. I believe that I was meant to be here today; to tell my story with the hope of making a difference. We talk about our grief because it is a part of us. Grief is timeless; as timeless as the love that we have for our children. We have learned to live again and life surrounds the hole in our hearts that will never really go away, but if you ask us, we don't want it to. The hole reminds us that he is there as we yearn to feel his presence. For me, the hole that has inevitably been dug into my soul contains an anguish of two losses. Yet, woven into my every being is the strength I have gained in building life around loss. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't have a story to tell or a difference to make. We choose to look at it this way because we have to. Grief knows no boundaries; it knows no pain and no time. We tell our story not because we are seeking sympathy. We tell our story because it gives us strength. We share our grief because we know that there is someone else in the world that needs our strength; that needs someone else to give them a voice to tell the world that their baby, no matter how small, matters. Much of society places more value on loss if that person breathed breath and lived life on earth for a designated amount of time. My sons did not have the privilege of taking their first breath after birth, but they lived. Their hearts beat fiercely and they bounced playfully in their safe havens for the short time they existed. How much time must pass before a life is worth grieving; before we recognize life as a life at all? 

Thank you all for your continued love and support throughout this new journey I have taken in sharing my life. I am so grateful and beyond blessed.

To the Man I Have Loved for Five years, Because I Don't Tell You Enough

When we first got together my now husband and I would lay in bed for hours and talk about everything in life. So long that we would fall asleep just before he had to wake to leave for work. Back then titles were scary. We both had just left relationships behind and were taking a chance on something that we feared may not work. Five years later, though, I am still certain that our path's were met by fate. I was and still am persistent and a controlling perfectionist. I walk into a room with a loud entrance and sometimes I am more stubborn than I like to admit. Somehow, the laid-back, quiet, caring and gentle man that I thought only existed in my dreams fell in love with me. He always said that celebrating anniversaries was senseless until there was a wedding anniversary to rejoice about each year. And mostly, our relationship has been timeless, even now, almost two years after our wedding day. Recently, though, it dawned on me that five years has come and gone in the blink of an eye. I never had an exact date embedded into my memory of when it all began, but I do know that it was during the remnant's of winter. It seems impossible, really. Some days, I still feel like a little school girl when we're together. My heart palpitates and my stomach spasms like it would if I were on a roller coaster. 

Since realizing that I have been happily in love for five incredible years, my thoughts have gradually traveled down memory lane, generously reminding me of how lucky I really am. Sadly though, as a busy life would have it, these reminders are rarely spoken out loud and instead, quick hello's are exchanged at the end of a long day along with a wealth of chaos standing between a much needed trade of love and affection. 

So, to the man who I still find myself drooling over, even on our worst days, you are the best thing in my life. And for the record, by worst days, I mean the days that life consumes us and we forget that somewhere in the midst of it all, our relationship really does exist. You may not realize it, because I innocently do not tell you enough, but I see you. I feel you, I feel for you , and I want you, every single day. 

I listen to you, you know. In the middle of the night when you and the rest of the house are sound asleep. I listen to your light snores as I lay in bed, restless and in love. I reach for you and hold onto you in that moment. The arm that I gently wrap around you moves with your chest as you breathe. And in that moment I am blissfully aware of the incredible life that we lead.   

I also watch you intently as you do something you love. You probably aren't aware of my eyes that are locked on your every move when you connect a paint brush to a canvas or when you swing your hockey stick and puck into a much anticipated goal. I watched you the other day when you dragged me to work with you to finish up one last thing. I sat in the car with the slobbery, panting dog and overly antsy child of ours. I watched you work and then again when you walked proudly back to your family waiting for you in the car. It's moments like that make my heart feel full of love. I don't tell you enough how grateful I am for your hard work everyday to support our family. You don't hear enough that you are the most selfless and hard working man I know. 

I haven't told you in awhile that my heart races on the rare occasion that we get to spend a date night together, just like old times. Even in the middle of the most mundane of days, the thought or sight of you increases the contractions of my heart. Seeing your name across the screen of my phone instantly puts a smile on my face. My stomach spasms when I watch you play with our daughter. And then again when she throws herself at you and wraps her tiny little arms around your waist. Your laugh is contagious and your smile can brighten any room. I prefer to smell your cologne over fresh laundry detergent any day and I am more than grateful for your unlimited talent in taking on all of the projects around the house that I relentlessly force you into. You are way too humble to admit it, but I'd say your skills are just as good, if not better, than Chip Gaines. Maybe you didn't know this, but I really do pay attention to what you say. When you text me in the middle of the day with a "sigh, I might as well go eat worms" because I haven't been paying attention to you, my heart bursts with love. Because you always want me, and only me. 

I know I don't say it enough, but as promised, I love you today more than I did yesterday. Five years has ultimately felt like a few short months, but I think that's the way it's supposed to be when your happy and in love. This journey has been quite adventurous and I expect that the next five years will trump the last. So, because I don't tell you enough, thank you for being you and all that you do. Five years seems like quite the milestone now, but I imagine in ten years my heart will be twice as big. 

My handsome husband, you drive me beyond the brink of wild and I love you more than you'll ever really know. 

Photo Credit: M.Tingley Photography