I was tired all day yesterday.  I haven't been sleeping well and I guess a number of things caught up with me. Lou had a meeting after work so I put Gavin to bed and ended up falling asleep there for the rest of the night. Maybe that is why Ty finally came to me in my dreams, because I slept so long, or because I was in his little brother's room. I don't know why last night of all nights, but it was wonderful and I have been thinking about it all day.  I want to jump back in and remember every little detail because dreams slip away so quickly.  I want to feel that feeling again as if we are really together, in the flesh. In my dream he was as beautiful as ever.  He was a big boy, and so angelic, just like he looked the weeks leading up to his passing. Dreams are strange and I can't recall everything.  All I know is suddenly, there you were.  I held you. I changed you.  Changing you was so symbolic of the intimate acts of motherhood I engaged in every day becau

The great thing about having a child with a "belly tube" (or a gastrostomy tube) is that we had complete control over Ty's diet.  I was able to make him shakes that were jam-packed with vegetables, proteins, oils and amino acids.  Ty had oral mobility issues, not to mention the outrageous effect chemotherapy had on his taste and his appetite, so most of the time he ate very, very little by mouth.  I don't know what we would have done for his nutrition, not to mention administering his meds, if he didn't have this miraculous device. That being said, he did eat by mouth on his terms.  For example, Ty went through a phase where he loved bacon - I literally kept a box of pre-cooked Oscar Meyer bacon strips in my PURSE for three or four weeks so I could pass him back a strip during our long car rides.  After a month of bacon overload, he never ate it again.  Then there was the "toast" phase where we went through almost a loaf of sliced bread DAILY because h

So many realities hit me in the face today.  Ty has been gone 17 months today.  I relived him dying in my arms several times today.  Watching his last breaths in my mind as I tried to concentrate on the road between the office and Gavin's preschool. Gavin will be five in just a few short months.  Just after he turns five, he will soon be older than Ty ever was.  He needs all new clothes.  He has grown out of the last pairs of Ty's pants that still fit him.  He can't wear his big brother's clothes much longer.  We need to register him for Kindergarten and even though he has an older brother, this will be the first time Lou and I will ever experience putting our child on a school bus.  Moving on to "big boy" school.  Our youngest, our baby, will soon be our oldest.  He is our "only" child (or, better said, our only child left).  Everything feels so final and all of a sudden it feels like it's all happening at lighting speed.  I couldn't c

Life has been absolutely out-of-control busy these past few months.  Busy is always good for me as a means to manage my grief, but eventually it catches up to me.  This weekend Lou went away on his annual snowboarding trip with his friends.  I was so sick of this cold, lonely winter, I decided to take Gavin on a road trip with my besties.  During which, I realized that I really need to watch what I say when I’m driving.  This is something that I imagine every mom can relate to on some level, right? Our first stop was to spend a night with my mom and dad on Long Island.  Whenever I cross the bridge, I undoubtedly run into a world of traffic and it never fails that there are drivers on the road that believe if they haphazardly change lanes, they will get to where they are going faster.  It is so frustrating.  We are all on the same road, going the same speed, and the hyper-active lane changers only put everyone else at risk.  One little bright blue Prius was that car yesterday, and I g