Mrs. Bell's Sweet Tea: Mommy please don't cry... (The Service)

I read the below poem at my sweet boys service on August 17th.

It was a day I will never forget shared with our closet family members and a few kind words said by my pastor with lots of shed tears. I have never been as proud of my husband as I was that day. I can't really tell you what the pastor spoke about because to be honest the past month is sort of one big blur but I do remember standing up to read a poem that I had found the day before. This poem breaks my heart every time I read it but I also find great comfort in it.

Daddy please don't look so sad, mommy please don't cry,

cause I am in the arms of Jesus and he sings me lullabies.

Please try not to question God, don't think he is unkind.

Don't think he sent me to you and then he changed his mind.

You see I am a special child and I am needed up above.

I am a special gift you gave him, the product of your love.

I will always be there with you, just watch the sky at night,

find the brightest star that's gleaming and my that's halos bright light.

You will see me in the morning frost, that mists your window pane.

That's me in the summer showers, I'll be dancing in the rain.

When you feel a little breeze from the gentle wind that blows,

that's me, I'll be there, planting a kiss upon your nose.

When you see a child playing and your heart feels a little tug,

that's me, I'll be there, to give your heart a hug.

So daddy please don't look so sad. Mommy please don't cry,

I am in arms of Jesus, and he sings me lullabies.♥

I walked away that day feeling shattered, confused, taken back, helpless, hurt and so many more emotions that I can't even begin to described... I wasn't quite sure of anything in that moment other than the cold harsh truth that my son was no longer growing safely inside me, his soul had went to be with Jesus and his body was laying in a cold, wet, dark dirt hole which chilled me to the bone.

(Red Flowers from The McDuffie's, White Cross from The Aspinwall's, Blue arrangement from Grannie Bell, John Deere basket from Mommy)

A few days after the service Michael and I worked with a good friends husband to design Noah's Headstone. We both wanted something simple, sweet and peaceful... After going back and forth for a few days we finally decided on what we wanted and below is the proof of what we ordered for our sweet boy.

Once everything was finalized the headstone was ready in just a few short days so off to the cemetery I went. It was the first time i had been there since the funeral and I could feel the knots of sorrow growing in the my stomach as I got closer and closer, the knots were filling the place my baby once lived. When I finally arrived I wasn't able to stay very long because as Florida would have it, hurricane worthy weather approached and reared its ugly head with no warning. I did leave that day know once thing and it was that I would be making a trip to the hardware sore to get a few items because my boys resting place needed a little work.

***Warning*** This is the part where you may possibly think to yourself that I am crazy and need to see a therapist and if that is the case then you are perfectly entitled to your own opinion but let me tell you something, everyone's grief is different and I am learning that. I didn't get the opportunity to pick out paint colors or bedding for my boys room so I was bound and determined to do something special for him and it was going to be making his resting place peaceful and somewhere I felt comfortable with him being at. If that makes me crazy well then, I guess I am :) For me, those few days of going out there were very helpful and important to my grieving process. I felt as if I had no control in regards to all the things that were happening around me and that was something I could control.

After several trips to Lowes and Home depot I finally make it back to the cemetery and it all started with the border... This stuff was so very annoying and a pain to work with, at least for me. As I sat there alone putting the boarder together and hammering it in the ground, I started thinking about all the things I wouldn't get to do with my son. I will never be able to kiss him to sleep or bandage his scraped knee, things I have dreamed about for years when I thought about being a mom. I thought putting together the boarder would be as close to putting together his crib as I would ever get. I pounded that boarder into the earth, HARDER and HARDER with every thought. It didn't take long before the thoughts turned to tears and the tears turned to sobs and the sobs turned to screams.