Gone, Gone, Gone and Back at it Again

out at the sea

In March, I experienced yet another failed embryo transfer cycle. It had been our 7th attempt and physically and emotionally, I was just done. Done. My heart couldn’t take it anymore.   We made the decision to take a three month break. I had all of April, May and June to stop thinking about it, to stop scheduling my life around doctor appointments and injections and to just be me for three whole months. I added creativity into my life and got back to playing around with photography. I joined a new gym and kept up with regular workouts. I started going to acupuncture. My husband and I went on vacation and had a fabulous time visiting friends. I got involved in an online support group for people like me and it gave me courage to stick to our plan of coming back after three months.

Today is the start of a new two-cycle process, which will lead to our 8th embryo transfer.   I found myself having doubts and questioning if I should go through this again. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to say goodbye to my “three month break” yet. I remember thinking on my 3rd try, that maybe it was lucky, because “third time’s a charm” right? But now, going on to number 8? How do I get my head back into this with any optimism after all of my heartache and disappointment? My mind was swirling with doubt and apprehension as I drove to my doctor appointment today. Can I really do this again? As I was driving and trying to convince myself that I was ready for all this, a song came on the radio that guided my doubts to a screeching halt. The message I was waiting for was right there for me…

In previous posts, I’ve talked about our baby, Jaxon. I talked about saying goodbye and spreading his ashes in the ocean.   The song that we played while saying goodbye and looking out at the sea was, “Gone, Gone, Gone” by Phillip Phillips. This is the song that started to play on the radio on my way to the doctor today. And somehow in that moment, my baby’s soul was with me and I knew this couldn’t yet be the end. I had to go keep going and begin again, even though it will be our 8th beginning. Here we are back at it again, with my heart beating for you.

“Like a drum my heart never stops beating for you.

And long after you’re gone, gone, gone.

I’ll love you long after you’re gone, gone, gone.”

Photo by CJE

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Two Year Anniversary, Missing Jaxon

Jaxon 1 year flowers2 Jaxon 1 yr flowersToday is the two year anniversary of losing our baby Jaxon. I think the worst of the memories and heartache hit me last week and over the weekend. We spent all day Saturday planting flowers and it was a great way to distract myself and enjoy the time with my husband. It was good for us to both have some beautiful, bright colors to look at. And in the midst of all of our planting, we discovered that when our dog gets to spend that much time in the yard slightly unsupervised, she loves to dig. I gave her a treat and she spent so much time digging holes, burying it, unburying it, digging again…and again…and again. It was hysterical to watch because she would dig the shallow hole with her paws, and then bury the treat with her nose. Lots of pig-like snorting going on. A simple, sunny day in the yard was just what we needed.

That got me through Saturday, and then Sunday was just downhill all over again. Anniversaries of tragic events have a way of physically and emotionally consuming you from the inside out. I find that I have to face it head on, in order to move through the day in hopes of being stronger at the end of it. Today is a day we will honor his memory, but I’m just not sure how we want to do that yet. But first I will write.

After losing Jaxon, we had him cremated. As heartbreaking as it was to pick up his ashes, I had quite an amazing moment right in that instant. The man that we had worked with from the funeral home was named Alan. Which instantly gave me some peace, as that was my Dad’s name. Alan. And everyone called my Dad, Al. And we had named our son Jaxon Alan. We met Alan, the funeral director outside of a service that was just beginning. As my husband and I walked up to him, someone else was walking up to another man, saying “Hi Al.” I felt like I was surrounded by “Al” and I felt my Dad’s spirit washing over us at the moment we were handed our son’s ashes. I couldn’t bring myself to share this realization out loud to my husband until we had been sitting in the car for a while together. But as soon as I started to tell him, he said, “Yes, I know, I heard it too.”

My husband and I decided to spread Jaxon’s ashes in the ocean near our home. I was out for a walk one evening and decided to take a short detour off of my normal route. It was there I discovered a giant rock with the number 13 painted on it right by the water. And I realized this was the place we needed to spread his ashes. My husband has a birthday on the 13th. Jaxon was supposed to be born on September 13, 2013. The number 13 just jumped out at me. So this was the place.   It just felt right.

We decided to pick a song to play when we spread his ashes.   There was a song that repeatedly played on the radio that summer and although we had not yet shared this with each other, it turned out both of us thought of Jaxon every time we heard it. It was “Gone, Gone, Gone” by Phillip Phillips. My husband and I climbed up on the rocks and we waited for the best wave to come up and help take his ashes away. And it was all so perfectly timed with the water and the words in the song. So perfect in fact, that we felt our baby with us so strongly in that moment. After we let him go, we just stood there on the rocks holding each other.

https://youtu.be/oozQ4yV__Vw

On the one year anniversary, we returned to our number 13 rock. My husband created a little bouquet of flowers from our yard and we placed them there. This is the photo you see with this post.

Today, 2 years later, we continue to love you, adore you and miss you…our baby Jaxon. Your heart forever in ours. Love, Mommy and Daddy.

Photos by CJE

Every beating of my heart

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I REMEMBER YOU

The world may never notice
If a rosebud doesn’t bloom:
Or even pause to wonder if the petals fall too soon.

But every life that ever forms,
Or ever comes to be
Touches the World in some small way
For all eternity.

The little ones we longed for
Were swiftly here and gone.
But the love that was then planted
Is a light that still shines on.

And though our arms are empty,
Our hearts know what to do
Every beating of my heart says
“I Remember You”

-Author unknown