Sawyer's Memory Wall

The long awaited memory wall has finally been put up! Ever since my mom showed me the Pinterest post, I knew we had to do that for my sweet Sawyer. I wish I could say I am so happy and so overjoyed that it is complete, but it is so bittersweet. The flood of emotions I experienced the night my dad and Josh hung everything was so intense and I wasn't expecting it at all.

I try to go through daily life without thinking about all the things I am missing out on, but that usually doesn't work. The mind is an evil thing, and Satan is always on the move especially since I have chosen to chose God and His faithfulness over letting Satan take hold on my emotions. Every morning I wake up I have to fight off the thoughts of "I wonder if Sawyer would be sick today, or who would be keeping him." Every day at school I have to avoid the thoughts of "I wonder what Sawyer's favorite subject would be?" or "I wonder what Sawyer would have liked to do at recess when he was in third grade?" Questions I will never know the answer to, ever. Most of my friends are either pregnant, have kids, or aren't even at the stage of having kids. I struggle with where I even fit in these days. I have several close friends, don't get me wrong, but sometimes the thoughts of "do I really belong?" take a step into my ever running mind.

When we put up the memory wall it all came flying at me like a hurricane I couldn't escape. The wall is beautiful and holds the memories, the only memories, I will ever make with my son. But it also brought up the realization that while my pregnant friends are getting their nurseries ready and my friends with babies are posting new pictures every day, but here I am making a memory wall for my son who died. I shouldn't have to be doing that. I should be taking new pictures. I should have new stories to be telling. I feel awkward and uncomfortable when people share stories of their children because I don't have any new stories to share. The only stories I have are the ones every one has stories I have are the same ones I have already told and no one wants to hear those all the time. Some people act like I haven't even had a son, or a son who passed away, when they see me they just act like nothing ever happened. That hurts. A lot. I have a son. He isn't here with me but he is mine. My heart loves him more every day. My heart misses him more every day. My arms continue to ache for a baby I held three times, think about that the next time you complain your child doesn't want to do anything but be held.

I sometimes wonder how many people judge me for the way I grieve. Then I realize it doesn't matter. No one has walked in my exact shoes. There are those that can relate because they, too, have lost a baby. I am thankful for those people. But there is no one who found out on January 3 that something might be wrong with their baby. No one who left everything they knew behind on February 13 to head to Cincinnati not knowing when they would return. No one who spent 24 hours in labor only to have a C-section. No one who heard their baby cry but couldn't see him for many hours later. There is no one else who sat and held their baby as he took his last breath looking in to his mommy and daddy's eyes on May 27, 2013 at 9:36 PM in the CICU at Egleston. No one who sat in a room holding their lifeless baby as their parents and siblings grieve over the precious baby. No one who looked at their beautiful baby lying in a casket on May 30 desperately wishing he was sleeping and could be taken home soon. No one who had to leave the room as the funeral home closed the casket to the son we cherished for 18 days of life on Earth and will cherish for an eternity. There are those friends, though, that do their best to be there. I am thankful for that. I am thankful for the texts that say "God continues to be sovereign. He is the same on the mountaintop as he is in the valley." & "I think God is trying to tell you 'I've got you, Ashlyn... always have and I'm not letting go."

The hardest thing for me is feeling like I am letting people down. There are things that I just can't do emotionally because my heart is still hurting so bad. I haven't "scrolled" through my news feed on Facebook in quite some time. I avoid it by just posting something and only looking at any notifications applying to my post. It has helped me greatly. But there are things like baby showers and birthday parties that I can't attend and as much as my heart hurts at the memories it brings up it also hurts because I feel bad. I have a 4-month old cousin (more like a nephew) that I haven't been able to hold since Sawyer passed away. It hurts that I can't hold him as much as it hurts to think about not holding Sawyer. It hurts to see pictures of new babies (another reason I limited my time on Facebook). It hurts to see the interactions of big brothers with their little siblings, something Sawyer's future sibling's won't be able to do with him. Everything just hurts. The day I don't cry will be an accomplishment.

Here are the pictures of the memory wall, some close up for a better view. Excuse the quality. My camera card isn't working and I had to use my phone.

I love this. The letters are covered in maps and painted brown. My mom did this for his nursery.

The beach picture is simply amazing and captures everything. Thanks to Brenda Jones for picking up this beautiful piece. Love my sweet heart warrior.

So glad Julie convinced me to start painting.

Love this board, and the fact I can interchange the pictures.

 I can't leave the stones that Dr. V's office gave me at the grave but I am using this vase to put them in on his memory wall. I am IN LOVE. The giraffe and elephant are the ones he had in his crib at Egleston, and my mom made an extra set that we put in the casket with him. That bag to the left is what we put the peanuts in for the name announcement.

Found this picture frame at Kohl's and I love it. It holds a picture of the first time I held my sweet baby, a memory I won't ever forget. And of course his heart warrior pillow.

This says "As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you." Isaiah 66:13

As we were at Walmart getting supplies to hang things up my mom found this. It was too perfect not to buy. The Lord speaks to me at every turn.

I love the entire wall, but this sunflower is amazing. I also found this the night we put the memory wall because we went to look for brown shelves for the wall. I couldn't help it. These pictures are also at the top of the list. Seeing my husband hold his son for the first time, there are no words to describe how this made me and makes me feel.

This wall is at the top of my stairs on the way to my bedroom. It is the last thing we see on the way to bed and one of the first things we see in the morning on our way to start our day. It makes me sad and happy all at the same time. 

I guess people just don't know what to say to me. And I don't know what people should say. But I don't want people to act like this didn't happen. I don't want people to act like I don't have a baby. I do. He may not be here with me, but that doesn't mean I don't have a son. It hurts to hear others share their stories of accomplishments of their little ones, but I have nothing. It doesn't mean I don't want hear them, though. I have no new stories, and I cringe at the thought that I never will. I try to focus on the joy that these parents have and that they are cherishing those moments. I pray Sawyer's story has encouraged you to cherish the moments and share them with others.

Nights like tonight I cling to Isaiah 43:2 "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, nor will the flame burn you". Also Psalm 55:22 "Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved." Even though my heart is hurting, so bad, the Lord is with me. He is with me every step of the way. He knows my pain even when others don't. He is telling Sawyer all about his mommy and daddy and how much we love and miss him. He is taking care of my son, while I can't. He is working on healing in my heart, and He does care. These things I know are true. Even when I feel like every one else has moved on and "forgotten", He reminds me that He is right here, and He hasn't forgotten.

Until next time,

Ashlyn