On Your 5th Birthday, My Love

My dear Baby Marcus,

Happy, Happy Birthday my Love! You would’ve been 5 years old now. How time flies. Your Papa and I were counting today, “Has it really been 5 years?” I can only imagine how big and handsome you would be by now. But as God wanted it, you will be our forever baby, our angel baby in Heaven. 

Today, your Papa and I, together with Lola Talula of course, and Tita Belle, Ate Mica, and Kuya Miguel, heard Holy Mass for you. We had the priest bless you and he asked how old you would have been today. Then he asked if your Papa and I are planning to have another baby. I just told him, “Someday, maybe, soon.”

How are you, my love? Your Papa and I miss you terribly - most especially today. You know, we try to live our lives “normally” each day but today, we could not help but cry and mourn your loss once again. I looked through your blog tonight and it brought out memories of the time we lost you, my love. The pain is as fresh as it was 5 years ago. Your Papa and I shed helpless tears as we were transported back to the painful moments. Reading love notes from your cousins and Tita Belle, and most especially, the love letter your Papa wrote for you. It was all too much for us not to cry.

Every year, I write you a love note, aside from the nightly conversations I have with you. And every year, I try to make it a point that the letter I write you show that your Papa and I are getting better… each year. And I am happy to report that we are holding up well, my love. Thanks to the strong support we have from our family. And thanks to the wonderful one year we spent in Paris, your Papa and I have found our true passion. This keeps us happily busy. And everything that we have accomplished and continue to accomplish is because you are our inspiration, our muse.

---

Papa and I had a conversation just a few days ago. I asked him that if ever we are not blessed with another child, will he be okay with it? Your Papa - the ever gentle-hearted and understanding person that he is - said that it will be okay with him of course, but he also said that we should still give it a try. Whatever God wills, we will accept. 

I have to admit, my love, that after browsing through your blog tonight, I am again hopeful that, maybe, we will be blessed with another baby. You have given us so much love and so much joy that I want to experience that again. The fear has gone away. 

So on your birthday, my dear angel Marcus, you have blessed me again with hope and courage. Your light continues to shine on us… thank you, my baby Marcus. Thank you for always watching over Mama and Papa and the rest of our family.

I love you very much, my dear baby!!!

Always,

P.S.

I am sure you enjoyed the birthday celebration your Titas, Titos, Lola and Lolo, and sweetie Carine have done for you today. I am sure you loved the Happy Birthday song that Carine sang for you. They love you very much and I am sure you are always watching over them.

Backtrack 10.2010 : After A Self-Imposed 1 Month Hiatus

This post I accidentally saw in the draft section. It is unfinished though it says a lot about our journey through our recovery. I haven't checked this blog in a while, I must admit. But for some reason, as my son's birthday nears, I felt myself gravitate towards this special blog of his.

Original entry of these thoughts of mine was dated 25 October 2010... exactly one month after our vacation retreat.

---------------

We are back... from a "retreat vacation" we gave ourselves to just get away from it all.

I realized looking through my previous entries that the last time I actually wrote in our son's blog was August. Thinking back now, it was very much intentional. I had my reasons for not doing so and one of them is that I usually feel quite vulnerable expressing my raw emotions in this blog. I couldn't help but feel judged - or worse pitied - by people who follow our journey through this online journal. It almost felt like being naked in front of hundreds of people.

When is personal, too personal? I felt Jhon and I had an obligation to share our experiences in this blog to help others who are also going through the same tasking journey. We felt we had a mission to help. But where do we draw the line?

I never stopped writing, it is my form of release and expression. I still wrote in my personal journal and there I jotted down every emotion I felt without repression. I was free to be me.

Though I felt this little blog of Marcus shouldn't stop with entries of only sadness and grief. There should be progress. People and parents going through their own grief should be told that there is light at the end of the tunnel. That eventually life will get better again. This precise entry is just about that.

This is our story - at least from my point of view - of our one month journey to real recovery. A milestone.

When September came and the topic of my birthday came up, I suggested to Jhon that maybe a weekend away would be fabulous. The thought of just disappearing far away from the chaotic city life sounded very enticing to us. We collectively agreed that we were finally ready to travel and that was a good sign, it was progress on our part.

We eventually realized that a weekend away just did not seem enough time to recover from all the stress we were experiencing. So why not a full month then? And so we did.

We needed a break. We needed a totally different  atmosphere. So Jhon and I (together with Lola Talula) packed our bags and headed to a tiny island paradise that is called Boracay. There we rented a beautiful apartment atop a mountain, the highest peak of the island away from the tourist crowd and noisy party scene. It was our place of Zen for one month.

We found the peace we did not know we were craving for and greatly needed all this time. The setup God blessed us with was the perfect scenery for a personal retreat. Just to be able to hear yourself think and listen to your own thoughts was precious. 

Jhon and I agreed that we had to detach ourselves from everything we got accustomed to in the city. We took great effort into forgetting about technology and that included cellphones and the internet. We barely even watched television. 

We immersed ourselves in books about self-realization and reflection. After 4 years from the first time I read Your Best Life Now by Joel Osteen I began my retreat by reading this inspirational book from cover to cover. Little did I know that by reading this book I will reach the pinnacle of my recovery. I am forever changed.

To be blessed with a spectacular view that we wake up to every morning aided us even further. Everyday, we get up and are greeted by the beauty of nature in all its glory... the favor of God. I couldn't help but be thankful of each passing day. It was pretty hard to ignore each day that we were blessed with and it made me see the beauty of life once again. I was still very much missing my baby Marcus though now I was seeing him in the beauty of nature. I felt him in the gorgeous sea breeze, I saw him in the turquoise blue waters, in the blue skies, the green mountain tops. I confidently felt that he wanted us to be better, he wanted us to be happy again. He reassured me that he is happy and at peace in every rainbow we see.

A reminder

It's been months since I last put my thoughts and feelings into writing. Most especially when I miss Marcus.  To be honest, I miss it. Nowadays, I've been quite preoccupied putting together a new business venture brought about Marcus' Love. Truthfully, I enjoy every minute of what I am doing right now, thanks to my baby boy. I can feel success just over the horizon. A project with a purpose and meaning.

As I go about my day, preparing for another work week, I find myself in a quiet room. I sit in front of the altar where we place Marcus' picture and Urn with his ashes. Beside me is our lovely little puppy Lola. She has kept me company all day, right on the couch as we wait for her mama to return home. I picked up on a favorite book we used to read while going through the process, "Born to Fly."

As I read on, my eyes felt cloudy, chest becomes tight, tears fall, feels like yesterday. The only difference I guess is that I am not sad, I just miss him.  I like feeling this way once in while because I feel like I reconnect with my Marcus. I often pray and ask that he would visit me in my dreams. Just cannot get enough of his handsome face that I want to see him even in my sleep.

Not a day goes by that I do not think about my son, I believe that every an hour or so Marcus enters my heart and mind at least once. Lately, many challenges and trials have been put upon us. Yet, I do not despair for this too will pass. Why? Because I have faith and hope that everything will turn out right. My son ever being so close to God, reminds me every step of the way to be patient and focus. Instantly, I feel better.

I feel so fortunate to have my son watching us everyday. Though there will be more challenges and trials, I'm not afraid because I am surrounded by love. I am forever grateful, you inspire me everyday my son. Papa is a better person because of you. Thank you for always reminding Papa. I love you dearly my boy!

December

My Dear Baby Marcus,

The Christmas season is here, my love. As December 25 nears I continue to yearn for you, my baby. My arms ache to cradle you, my heart overflows with love.

Mama is feeling so much better, don't you worry about me. I am sure you know that for I talk to you everyday. Though on days like this I cannot help but express how I miss you so my baby Marcus. I picture you sometimes as you would be 9 months old now. Cute and cuddly with chubby cheeks and a very handsome face.

However, I know you are with God so I am at peace. I have a visual image of you being cradled by Jesus Christ, happy and cooing. Every time I picture that I feel a smile on my face.

Baby, you will forever be in Mama's heart. I feel your love each and every day. As Christmas nears, though I miss you so, you are here with me spending the season each second with Mama. Because you are always in Mama's mind and in Mama's heart.

Mama loves baby Marcus very much!

A Mark of Power and Strength

Reading through a blog entry of Rebecca, a recent babyloss mother, I am refreshed by a quote she shared that was also contributed to her by a fellow blogger. To me, it spoke exactly of how Jhon and I feel about our sorrow.

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief... and unspeakable love.” - Washington Irving

Need I say more?

Not As Easy

I finally updated my baby's Photo Memories page. Ever since I discovered the world of digital scrapbooking, I have been meaning to use these interesting elements to improve the overall look of Marcus' photos. Voila.

I realized that while I believe my days have been much better lately, seeing my Marcus' pictures for hours while working on the project made me yearn for him all over again. This feeling of being transported back in time... to the night I lost my sweet son. Staring at his beautiful and angelic face makes me want to hug him tight and keep him in my arms. I long for him. After 5 months without my son I realized that I still feel the physical pain of having "empty arms." While my heart aches for my baby, my arms ache to cradle him. 

I am learning how to live with the pain. The physical pain of my broken heart and the pain of my empty, aching arms. I will just have to keep teaching myself to live with it.

Though I do embrace feeling the pain, I would rather that than feel numb inside. I long for my son, and I do not see any wrong in that.

Mama's Love

Sunday was a very quiet time for Jet and I. We spent the day just lounging and enjoying each others company in the comfort of our home. We popped in a couple of movies which included "Hot Tub Time Machine" and "The Back-Up Plan."

We didn't expect much from "Hot Tub Time Machine," though we were pleasantly surprised. There were a few scenes that gave us a good workout, I was literally crying. I haven't laughed like that for quite sometime now. We moved on to the next movie, again not expecting much. We do this often now so as not to get disappointed with high expectations from previews and all. Neither of us had a clue as to what the plot of the movie was till we began watching it. From the get-go, we knew Jennifer Lopez wanted to be a mother.

Throughout the movie, no part truly touched me more than seeing Jennifer's character had an ultrasound and hearing the heartbeat of her twins. I could still hear my son's heartbeat fast and strong. Also, towards the end when her boyfriend was reading a book to the two infant girls -- it made Jet and I cry...

I know how much sadness fills my heart during moments like these, especially when I least expect it. I want so much to be a Papa to Marcus. But what makes my grief more intense than that of my own is when I see Mama Jet grieving our loss. Jet wants to be Mama so much, more than most people could ever know. I could never imagine how it truly feels to be Mama. I don't know how it feels to carry our son in her womb for 7 months, I don't know how it feels to experience "empty arms," and I don't know how it feels to have that special bond between mother and child. All I know is how much Jet wants to be Mama to Marcus.

I believe I can say nobody knows how great of a mama Jet is but me. One can feel how much Jet embraced being mama, if you witnessed it. Even before we lost Marcus, we would have countless conversations about our plans and her plans for our son. Everyday she woke up brought about joy that only parents would experience when expecting their first child. How she looked even more beautiful while carrying our son and how her love exuded in every possible way. Now, Mama Jet has a new reason for being. Soon others will see a glimpse of how great of a mama Jet is. Not for personal glory but for love, an advocacy driven by the love for our Marcus. I know she's the best Mama, and she still is and always will be. Go for it MAMA JET, we are here behind you all the way!!

What I Would Give

Reading through works of a bereaved mother, Stephanie Paige Cole, who turned the loss of her daughter count in a much bigger way, I stumbled upon a poem she wrote that spoke of exactly how I feel about mothers in general.

I have yet to be a mother of a living child though I feel the alienation of a mother with an angel child. I wish for no one to experience this enigmatic pain.

I do not resent mothers who have living children, quite the opposite actually. Lucky is the word I'd use. Oh how lucky they are. I can just imagine the joy and pride they feel for having the chance to nurture and raise their miracles. How privileged they are!

What I would give to experience sleepless nights cradling my child in my arms, lulling him to sleep. Waking up early in the morning and ready him to school. To be there for him throughout his growing years. The future that will never be.

Do you grumble about how difficult it is to be a mother with children to raise? Oh how lucky you are!

Why I Cannot Join A Moms Group

Stephanie Paige Cole

Surrounded by women

With children in their arms

On their laps

Circling their legs

I belong and I don't

I meet the criteria to be in this club

With a little one balanced on my hip

Playing with my hair

It is a typical mom conversation

What foods have you introduced?

Is he sleeping through the night?

Anyone thinking about having a second?

That's not what’s on my mind

There's a little girl laughing in the corner

She would be just her age

Now I am choking on thoughts

That I cannot turn to words

I will not allow myself to cry here

But I miss her I miss her I miss her

You will alienate yourself

You will be the-woman-with-the-dead-baby

You will not make new friends

I repeat it until I accept it

I chat about teething

I go home and cry

Yes he’s sleeping through the night

He likes pears and avocado

And we’re starting to think about having another

But that would be our third.

And you don’t realize how good you have it

There are things worse than sleepless nights

with cranky infants

There are sleepless nights alone

Good Grief, Bad Grief

A close family member told me lately that there are different forms of grief -- various instances where we experience feelings of loss. Since we lost Marcus I have read a number of books stating this same fact as well and I acknowledge it. We grieve when a loved one is lost, may it be through death or broken relationships. We grieve when we lose a job or a business which we have learned to love all these years. We grieve when we lose a business deal. We grieve when we lose material things that we consider priceless and irreplaceable. By definition, loss simply means an end to something. What was once there is now gone, sometimes nowhere to be found.

Interestingly enough, while I jot down these types of losses, one Filipino word keeps on repeating in my head. "Sayang." A very common term Filipinos say when they feel something worthwhile is wasted. With Americans, they usually say, "What a waste."

But what is considered "sayang" anyways? Is it right to weigh these losses into different degrees of depth? Which weighs more than the other?

The most common form of grief that people automatically attach with the word is death. Coming from a person who has lost 2 loved ones in 4 years - 3 in 10 years - and most recently 1 just 4 months ago, sadly I have become an expert in losses. Maybe I could call it a progressive loss, where the pain of losing one loved one at a time gets deeper and more intense each time. And each time, it digs deeper and deeper into the core of my still wounded, barely recovered heart. Ten years ago I lost my Nanay (our nanny) who took care of us siblings since birth, four years ago I lost our Papa Jaime, and just four months ago I lost my infant son Marcus.

So why does grief significantly coincide with death compared to the others I mentioned early on?

Because death is final.

The finality of death is unspeakable. One can't even comprehend the unfathomable despair of death until they experience it themselves. It is more than a closed book, bigger than packing your bags, greater than seeing someone exit the door, more significant than cleaning up your office, more than signing divorce papers, hugely different from surrendering the keys, graver than anything material that one could possibly lose.

When someone loses a loved one through a broken relationship, the people involved seldom reconcile. And when or if they ever do, there will always remain some sort of unspoken bad blood between the two. The bottom line, shouldn't that be considered as "good riddance" anyway? If you were wronged, the emotional baggage is not worth hanging on to. Though ultimately, the person is still very much there. No matter how burnt the bridge is, it can always be rebuilt.

Losing material things is another. When you lose a job or business, a house or car, a business deal -- all of these can be replaced even superseded. The time and effort one has put into acquiring it is greatly considered, yes, and it is a waste. "Sayang." Yet the obvious fact is, it can all be obtained again, in one form or another. The bottom line, it can be fixed.

This does not say that one loss deserves better acknowledgment than the other. Who wants to experience greater grief than the other anyway? I assume nobody would want to be included in this contest. Life in itself is dramatic enough. I seriously do not wish for anyone to experience the extreme heartbreak I currently live through.

I usually wonder why some people see it that Jhon and I should be over our grief by now. Is there a time limit to grieving? Is 4 months enough time to finally lock up our emotions and treat life as if we never lost a child? Is Marcus' short life easier to get over compared to a person who lived a hundred years? I wonder again, if people looked at themselves during times when they were in deep grief, would they have told themselves to stop feeling? Scathing, yes. Pun very much intended.

Grief does not have to be altogether bad. Grieving does not mean you are weak. Grieving and being true to yourself does not mean you are dwelling. Jhon and I have reached a point in our mourning where we are learning how to live with it. The fact of the matter is, it is the additional stress and external forces in life that compound the affliction.

The vital detail that needs to be addressed is how you channel grief into something monumental, something positive.

Good Grief.

Grieving does not automatically define us to be sulking and sinking into deep depression. Our 4 short months of grief has taught Jhon and I to better ourselves. We are fortunate enough to have found books that aided in our healing. These books paved our path to acceptance. During times when we could not articulate the emotional roller coaster of it all, these books shed light into every perplexing feeling we experienced. Expert advice of clinical psychologists who specialize in neonatal loss and grief; stories of other parents who went through the same experiences we did and offered learning 'modules' into understanding grief and channeling it into meaningful actions. We are still very much grieving though we do not see wrong in that. Our grief does not cripple us, it empowers us.

The short life of our son taught us to live a more meaningful life. His memory fuels us into doing good for others. Every time I have an epiphany for a project to honor Marcus it lifts my spirits knowing that because of him we are living a life not only for ourselves but for others as well. My heartache and loss is channeled into something positive.

"Sayang?" I refuse to believe that the loss of our son has gone to waste, in a matter of speaking. His short life is not "sayang." Our grief and intense longing for him is "not a waste." The magic of Marcus has turned a gruesome negative into a momentous positive. This is a pivotal time in our lives and we consciously decide to utilize it for others.

Marcus' love has catapulted us into becoming humble benefactors to select recipients, one Baby Step at a time. His love emanates. Hence, The Love Of Marcus Fund.

A labor of love to honor his memory and to make his short life count through outreach projects. Simple and pure. It is not bound by selfish reasons or illusions of grandeur. Pure love, pure assistance.

The Love Of Marcus Fund.

A Visit From Nanay

Let me tell you about Nanay*. Tita Sima to most, Nanay to us Torres siblings.

She was our nanny who we considered as our second mother. She had been with our family from the very beginning. She witnessed each one of us get born into this world. She took care of the 5 of us.

She was entrusted by our Mama to take care of our household. Mama entrusted her to take care of us. She was a governess. She handled 5 to 10 staff working under her. Everything would have turned upside down without her.

She was an integral part of our family. She was family.

I remember her taking care of our every whim. Life was easy and smooth-sailing because of her. Every move we made and with everything that we needed we ran to her.

The countless times she nurtured us when we were sick. From the comfort food she prepared for us to make us feel better.

We were spoiled rotten.

The way she consoled us when we were down. And the way she defended and fought for us when we were bullied or trampled on.

She gave her whole life to us. Her love was unconditional.

Then early this morning, I dreamt of Nanay...

The setting was Edsa Shangri la Mall. It was her favorite place to stroll. It was where we always brought her.

Jhon and I had just finished having dinner at that Mediterranean bistro near the carousel. On the way towards the escalator I heard a couple of people mumbling some words and with it the word "Nanay" followed.

I looked around to see. And there she was having just finished talking to some people and now she was headed towards the same escalator we were going. She was wearing her classic short bob cut with specks of silver hair peeping ever so delicately accentuating her hairstyle.

I immediately called out to her, "Nanay!" I was genuinely excited to see her, after a long, long time. My heart was fluttering with joy.

---

Memory Recap:

The last time I saw my Nanay was more than a decade ago. I remember very well the night before I flew back to the States, January 2000, when we were hanging out at the informal living room. She was sitting on one of the chairs while chatting. There she gave me a package as big as a shoebox wrapped in colored paper. It was her "padala" for me. It was customary to her. I knew it was packed with goodies that I craved for when I was away. Flat Tops, Magnolia Quickmelt cheese, Lucky Me pancit canton. The works, I would say.

I told her I would miss her so much. And while my feelings of love for her overflowed, I went to her and sat on her lap. I hugged her neck tightly, smiling while my eyes closed, still sitting on her lap.

I knew it probably looked funny for I am much taller than her but there I was enjoying every minute of my comfortable seat on Nanay's lap. That memory would forever be etched in my heart.

Nanay was never a demonstrative person. She showed her love to us through her nurturing ways. She took care of us more than she cared for herself. She would even occasionally give us gifts when she could afford it. She loved surprising us. From cute nighties, to food, to even money, she gave unconditionally.

She was extraordinary.

Even thousands of miles away from her, she never forgot to check up on me. Even though I - and I admit - most of the time failed to check in on her, she never gave up on me. She would send me greeting cards just to say Hi. She even sent me a gigantic musical birthday card one time. It said, "To Jet, Kamusta ka na? ... With Love, From Nanay." Her carefully written, shaky penmanship even made it more special. I showed off the card on top of my entertainment center for months.

One summer when Mama and Ate Belle visited me back in the East Coast, Nanay sent a greeting card for me. Her usual love note was inscribed. But what truly got me were the bills inserted in between the card. There it was, a bundle of dollar bills neatly gathered together totaling $200. It composed of mostly $1 and $5 bills with a couple of $10's and $20's. A $2 bill was even included in the stack.

My jaw dropped. I could not believe she sent those. It was obvious that it took her a good effort to collect that amount, more so have them exchanged. It seemed like it was her life savings.

She wanted to make sure I was okay and covered during my stay there. A little something to give me a helping hand. She knew Papa supported me and paid for my way. Though she knew times were sort of tough because of the Asian financial crisis. P60 to $1. I was still comfortable enough. She did not have to do that gesture, but she did.

I could not hold back my tears. All I could say to Ate Belle was, "Oh my God. I can just imagine how long she saved up for this. She didn't have much but she gave it all to me." Right then and there, Ate Belle and I cried loving tears for Nanay because of the unconditional love she had just showed me.

When she passed in 2000, I was living in the States. I did not get to formally say goodbye to her. I was not there when my family laid her to rest.

---

When Nanay heard her name, she turned to me, looked at me, and with what seemed to me as a semi hurt look, she turned away and continued to walk going up the escalator.

I was dumbfounded. I hurriedly tried to catch up with her using the adjacent set of automatic stairs. To my surprise both escalators were moving up instead of the usual "down and up."

I watched her intently while the 3 of us, Nanay, Jhon, and I, were lead to the highest level of the mall, our distance only a few feet away from her.

When we reached the top we saw a small water plane parked in an area resting on a pool of water. Apparently, Nanay was waiting for her new employer who owned that plane. Two security guards were waiting as well, one uttering to the other how it will take the owner some time to come out, "She's still hearing mass."

I took my chance to converse with Nanay and told her how much I missed her. She finally looked at me with compassion as I went towards her and gave her the tightest hug. I started crying hysterically.

I continued hugging her while I spoke. "Do you know I had a baby?" Still crying, I told her that he died. I told her that if she was there with me, to take care of me, I would not have lost Marcus. I told her that her care would have made things better for me. And that my pregnancy would have been easier.

Nanay did not speak a word. She just listened the whole time. She listened and patted my back as I vented my feelings to her.

Finally I told her, "Come back to us Nanay, we miss you very much. It's not the same without you."

She answered me without opening her mouth. And in my dream I understood when she said she can't. She works for a different family now, and they love her too.

I struggled to accept what she just had said. Though I knew ultimately that, that was true. This is how we would have to live our lives. Our Nanay is not there anymore.

The next few seconds after that were a blur. Eventually I found myself back to reality, I was awake.

How do I interpret this dream?

As always I narrated my amazing dream to Jhon. I told him that finally Nanay had communicated with me. After more than a decade after she passed, she finally came to me.

I knew she would have preferred me being there when she faded in 2000 and I would have done so too. The guilt of not being there will live with me forever. Though I know she knows how much I truly miss her.

But early this morning, she finally broke the ice. She came to me and comforted me. She gave me her shoulder as I cried for the loss of my Marcus. She listened to me intently as I told her how much I missed her. How much I missed her nurturing ways.

She knew I needed her, that's why she came.

I am also relieved that she showed me how she was. When she told me that she belonged to another family now, I knew she meant she is with God. The symbolism of the airplane said it all. Her new employer, her new family, had wings. They fly high.

Rest in peace, Nanay. You now have an "alaga" to take care of in heaven. Please watch over for Marcus. I'm sure you and Papa Jaime are taking good care of him.

Thank you for the visit. I love you forever.

*Nanay is Filipino for mother.

My Mama's Day Special

Yesterday was my day. I was more happy than sad to celebrate Mama's Day. I am proud to be a mother. The gift of being a mother is a definite treasure to me. Bittersweet, yes, though I embraced the day because yesterday, my little angel Marcus greeted me a very Happy Mother's Day.

How did my day start?

I slept in - for I went to bed just about when the sun was rising. I stayed up all night reading my new book The Good Grief Club by Monica Novak. I am appreciating this book so far. The emotional and raw feelings of loss by these 7 women who eventually became friends, brought together by the same unfortunate experiences, keeps me in 'positive' touch of my own emotions.

As I read the preface, I felt immediately in tuned and somewhat comforted with this excerpt:

I found no comfort in being a statistic. Where I drew comfort, however, was from knowing that someone else on this planet understood my intense pain, the indescribable feelings of helplessness and loss. I drew comfort from knowing that other people had survived following the death of their own child, eventually finding happiness and purpose in their lives again.

Somehow, no matter how empathic a person - and I really do appreciate the empathy - if one has not lost a child, it is not conceivably possible to dig deep enough and feel the intense grief we bear for losing our baby. It truly takes one to know one.

I could not put the book down. I believe I will finish reading this one in no time.

Now back to my Mama's Day special...

Surprise Gift No. 1:

Around mid-morning while still very much in deep sleep, I can hear Jhon typing away on the laptop. I left him to do whatever it was he was busy concocting. My unconscious mind dreams away.

I was dreaming what seems to be a typically irrelevant dream. The kind that you won't even remember by the time you open your eyes. Even now, as I try my best to recall the dream, I do not succeed. But as I was nearing the end of this 'forgettable' dream, the story shifts.

All of a sudden I was transported to my elementary school campus. I was standing at the huge quadrangle while hundreds of little girls, lined up by the exposed corridors, sing and dance in a well-choreographed, consistent motion. They were all smiling and giddy. Much like enthusiastic choir members performing in front of a big crowd. Then almost instantaneously they ended their act, and altogether pointed to the sky with their arms extended diagonally upward.

I turned to the direction they pointed and there it was... the cutest, most innocent and child-like character one could put together.

The animated character resembled and looked to me like Gumbie, this children's character on television made out of clay. He was wearing some kind of a cowboy outfit complete with fringed leather pants and matching cowboy hat. He was smiling directly at me. It felt like the friendliest smile ever. I could not help but smile back.

Then just when he got my full attention, he endearingly uttered, "I love you Mama."

While still very much asleep I knew, it was my baby Marcus, coming to me in my dream, greeting me.

He made the Gumbie character especially for me. The same way a child would draw pictures for their parents as gifts. My baby Marcus gave me a cowboy clay figure for Mama's Day.

My heart was overwhelmed with joy that he visited me in my dream. He spoke to me and told me he loves me!

My dream was over before I knew it. His visit was quick yet very powerful. It was the first time my Marcus came to me in my dreams. I opened my eyes and I started to weep.

My baby visited me! My baby knew it was Mama's Day and gave me the most precious gift. He knew this day was going to be hard for me. He made sure I started my day with a special gift from him. I felt so lucky. It was truly my special day.

I kept on repeating the dream in my head, trying my best to etch the memory permanently and make it last forever. I never want to forget. Only I know how truly special it was.

What else could I ask for?

Surprise Gift No. 2:

Jhon went in the room when he heard I was awake. I told him about my dream. He comforted me until I could control my tears. Then he eagerly showed me my second gift.

He sincerely told me how unskilled he usually is with writing poems. But then he showed me what he just wrote. He proudly announced that - Marcus wrote me a poem.

The blog entry wrote, A Message for Mama...

My tears started to again fall though I did not feel depleted because for the second time yesterday I was crying happy, grateful tears.

It was obvious how Jhon wanted to make my Mama's Day extra special. I can just imagine how difficult it was to make me feel special without pushing those sensitive buttons. I belong to a unique group of mothers. The littlest things can trigger uncontrollable feelings of grief even though the intent is sincere. Jhon knew exactly how to make the day right for me.

Surprise Gift No. 3:

Just after lunch, I could tell Jhon was feeling anxious. I knew he was waiting for something to arrive. He did a great job making me feel anxious too. He knew how I liked getting surprises so he made sure I knew something was coming.

At around 3 p.m. it arrived, the most special bouquet of roses I've ever received. He said it was from baby Marcus and Lola Talula. The arrangement was gorgeous. Jhon knew precisely what I wanted. I could not ask for anything more.

Even Lola got into the Mama's Day spirit. She was very cooperative while I took photos of her with the roses. She too loved the roses very much, she could not stop sniffing them.

I made sure I rearranged the beautiful roses appropriately to fit my baby Marcus' sanctuary.

I made it a point to take enough shots of my special roses. Ample enough that I had to make a slideshow of it so I could properly show it off. I created it to express my thanks for Jhon's sweetest gesture. I am definitely loved.

Surprise Gift No. 4:

Today, Mama's Day Part 2, Jhon gave me my current favorite cake. Mary Grace's (Red) Velvet Cake. Yum!

He wrote a card that said:

To: Mama

Happy Mother's Day! You are the best Mama in the whole world! We love you very much!

From: Baby Marcus and Lola Talula

Need I say more?

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I never expected anything for Mother's Day. I did not want to be patronized. I would accept greetings only if they were extended wholeheartedly. The last thing I wanted was pity. Call me snooty but that was how I truly felt.

Jhon, Marcus, and Talula perfected my very special Mama's Day.

My ingredients for my very special Mama's Day recipe:

- 1 part Papa Jhon

- 1 part baby Marcus

- 1 part Lola Talula

- 1 very special I Love You Mama greeting

- 1 utterly sweet poem from Marcus (written by Papa Jhon)

- 1 perfect bouquet of long-stemmed roses

- 2 delectable red velvet cakes (Mary Grace style)

- a whole lot of Love

I am a Mama loved.