Teddy Bear Tins

Missing You

2012-01-18T00:36:00.002-05:00

I find it hard to imagine you as a three-year-old. I look back at the handful of pictures we have and I can't seem to make the leap in my mind's eye. Even looking back at the newborn pictures of my son, it's hard to believe how much he has changed in just one year, let alone three. So most often Aiden I think of you as I remember you - a tiny bundle with furrowing eyebrows and a sweet kissable nose. And I think of how it felt to hold you for those short minutes - a distinct and definitely real weight in my arms. I am so thankful for those memories, and for the chance to have known you. I miss you baby boy.

Love you for always,
Auntie Meg

Perspective

2011-11-15T19:48:00.004-05:00

I thought I'd start this post with an explanation of why it's been three months since I last posted, but then I realized that the explanation might as well make up the body of my post, since it's something I've been meaning to touch upon...

This blog is where I like to capture those bits and pieces of my babyloss-Auntie experience that I think can help other people who find themselves in similar situations. Whether someone has lost their own child, or has family or friends experiencing such a loss, I feel like we can all benefit from our shared perspective. In "real life" outside the blogosphere, babyloss remains a taboo subject, and the resulting isolation is in my opinion a major barrier to healing when it is needed most.

But I do have to admit that I am sensitive to the fact that many visiting this site may be early in their grief journeys, when our perspective is consumed with all of the pain of the loss. So I try to limit my posts to those experiences that are quite specific to my life as a babyloss-Auntie. The result, I think, is that readers here see only a compartmentalized version of what my life has become since my incredible nephew marked it so indelibly. Today, nearly three years since Aiden's death and birth, I find him so inextricably linked to my everyday life that it's hard to find little snippets to bring here that don't tread too far outside the realm of grief.

So that's why you haven't heard from me here in a while. I am still here. It's just that I'm having difficulty finding the right words to pass on to this audience.

But in the meantime, regardless of the amount of text on the front page of my blog here, the actual Teddy Bear Tins effort continues to grow and amaze me. I am so thankful for the peace it brings. :)

Fear & Trust

2011-08-22T14:50:00.002-04:00

Ever since I first became pregnant with my son, and especially since he was born, I have carried this fear with me. I know it's only August but at the end of every year I try to think back to what the main themes were and I hate to say it, but I feel like fear is one for me this year. I am just so afraid of something bad happening to my son, more specifically it's like I'm constantly afraid that he's suddenly going to die. Aiden died, babies die. I know, I've seen it myself. So who's to say that it couldn't happen to Jack? Every little stuffy nose, every trip to daycare, is somehow a risk for death.

My logical mind says this is ridiculous. And I think that to a degree most new parents experience it as well. But I can't help but feel that my experience has played a bit different of a part in how I process daily life with my little one. More "innocent" mothers seem to carry on with their lives ignorant of all the risks and possible bad outcomes, and I find myself wishing I could be more like them. I struggle daily to shake the fear and trust a bit more that good things are wanted for me and for Jack. I don't want this fear to become a wedge in my life. But it's just so hard to trust.

There is a song by Newsboys on Christian Radio lately that repeats the verse "You give and take away" as a bit of an anthem. I can't stand it, and just for that verse. I know there is biblical precedent, and I know I'm interpreting this in a rather narrow-minded manner, but for me it smacks of God being an Indian-giver. I don't want Him to take Jack away, just like I didn't want Him to take Aiden away. I've experienced enough of the "take away" thank you very much!

I think you get the idea of the circular path my thoughts have been taking lately. I want to shake the fear, I don't like the burden it brings, but to get rid of it I know I have to trust, and in my perspective my trust has already been seriously betrayed.

I seem to turn a blind eye to the "giving" side of the equation, and the fact that I have been given this incredible gift. Every morning when I cuddle my son, pretending to hide from my husband who takes Jack off to daycare, I'm amazed at just how much I have. Every moment is precious. That is one lesson I'm not likely to forget. I wonder how much more fraught this path must be for parents who have lost their own children, and who later welcome rainbow babies.

Maybe some of this is about building a stronger trust than I had before, one day, after the struggle has had more time to do its work. For now it is a constant challenge.

In two weeks my brother is flying east and will be meeting Jack for the very first time. How precious that time will be, I can't wait. While he's here I'm hoping to talk to him about an idea I've had about holding a Memorial Service for Aiden. I've read about other families who have a service on anniversaries or even just on a special occasion. We had a small ceremony for Aiden the week that he passed, but it was such a blur. Carrying Aiden's memory is something that brings me a lot of peace. I know that many people not directly in our circle don't understand that, and still see babyloss as a taboo subject, but some of these Memorial Services seem so beautiful and they're really a thing of support and remembrance. How wonderful that would be to add to our memory books. Definitely better than dwelling in fear.

Numbers :)

2011-07-08T21:50:00.004-04:00

76 Teddy Bear Tins have been delivered to 2 hospitals

43 more completed tins are being picked up by the hospital in the next few days

9 volunteers currently have kits and are painting an additional 64 tins

2 more volunteers have offered their time once I have more kits available

I'm planning to add 1 more hospital in the near future, which will mean that Teddy Bear Tins are provided to hospitals in 3 different states

We're going through tins so quickly I only have 5 more blanks left before I need to place another order

...All of this adds up to an immeasurable benefit that has been provided by the many kind people who have made Teddy Bear Tins a success

Lately when I think of Aiden I often quickly think of Teddy Bear Tins as well, and it makes me smile because this little idea has become a reality. I guess in a way to me it helps because as the time passes and I feel further away from the reality of holding him in that hospital room, I have something else very tangible that is a part of his memory as well.

1 dining room that has been taken over for another purpose.... :-P

Teddy Bear Tins turns 2!

2011-06-05T08:00:00.001-04:00

On June 5, 2009 I painted my first Teddy Bear Tin. It had been 4 and a half months since the day Aiden died and was born.

Today it is two years since that first tin. As of the end of this month more than 100 tins will have been provided to hospitals in two states, and dozens of volunteers literally all across the globe have shown their generosity by sharing of their time and talents.

I think having my own son now only makes me more aware of the physical ache that bereaved parents feel for their little ones. When I was visiting my brother halfway across the country a few weeks ago I had the chance to once again “visit” Aiden. I got to touch the box that holds his ashes. It struck me that even more than two years since he passed away, I still have the urge to want to just hold him and touch him. At my home I have a piece of cardstock that the hospital gave us with Aiden’s footprints stamped on them. Occasionally when I’m opening the safe to look for a passport or other important document, I’ll see the card and just hold it for a few minutes. Aiden’s feet touched that piece of paper, and today that’s the closest I can get to once again feeling him. I wonder if my son will ever question why his mom so fiercely insists on kissing his little hands, feet, ears, cheeks, nose AND forehead before he heads off to daycare in the morning?

Teddy Bear Tins provide not only a visual memory, but they are also something that parents and families can touch when they ache so much for their precious little ones. A foot or hand imprint to bring them some measure of peace, to give them something physical to hold on to.

This effort is extremely important, and the benefit that it provides to bereaved families is very profound. Thank you, thank you, thank you for continuing to support Teddy Bear Tins. What an incredible thing you have all made possible!

Mother's Day

2011-05-08T09:12:00.003-04:00

Still loving the way my mom phrased it several years ago...

"Happy Mother's Day to every woman who knows the joy of their children,
and the hope of their future children,
and who have in their hearts and memories their little angel babies."

<3 Wishing you peace and happiness today

So much more

2011-04-17T19:50:00.013-04:00

Before my son was born, I worried about how I would find the time to continue with Teddy Bear Tins with a little one in the house. This is just not something that I'm willing to give up, it's too important. But I knew that it'd be hard to find the time to take care of the coordinating and contacting volunteers, the shipping and organizing and tracking. And then Jack came, and shortly thereafter our house that had just been prepared for sale was destroyed when that pipe burst.

So yea, the last six months have been pretty overwhelming for me. Not nearly as emotionally overwhelming as when Aiden died, but definitely physically overwhelming. It has been hard to find any extra time. Last week I actually took an hour leave from work in order to shower. Seriously! I'm exhausted.

At the same time, it seems as if many of the people I love are also pretty overwhelmed right now. My sister-in-law has had an orthopedic surgery that puts her on crutches for the next 10 weeks. And rather unexpectedly, a very close friend recently welcomed her second son into the world - and promptly found herself in the middle of his fight for life as his lungs inexplicably did not function correctly. She was told he had a 20% chance of surviving before he was given emergency surgery to put him on a special life support machine. During the first two weeks of his life she never even got to hold him. Now she and her husband have moved into temporary housing more than an hour from home in order to be near to him.

Why do I mention all this?

Because in the midst of it, during a time when I have been very much consumed with other things, there has been a quiet process at work in the background...

My sister-in-law sent me a message this week to let me know that because she finds herself temporarily incapacitated she has been painting Teddy Bear Tins, already a dozen of them. I haven't had the chance to contact any volunteers myself, and here was one finding me instead! Then, I get the awesome message that my friend's little son has turned a corner for the better, and is doing so well that he will soon be transferred to a NICU closer to home. Since I will no doubt be visiting them there in the next few weeks I thought I'd send an email to the hospital... And within an hour I got the response that they have used Teddy Bear Tins and actually had been wanting to find me because they want more!

I really strongly feel that this effort is just something that I have been blessed to be a part of, but that it really is not about anything I can do on my own. Even in those weeks before my son came when I was stressing about finding the time, I knew that all I could do was let it be and be open to what I'd need to do, and it would somehow work out. I was worried, but I knew that Teddy Bear Tins was about so much more than what I could do myself. And it is.

I am just so happy to be a part of it. :)

Oh it's you grief

2011-02-16T15:13:00.007-05:00

Two weeks ago when I was stopping by at our old house on my way home from work, I discovered that a pipe had burst during an extended power outage in the recent snow storm.

Some quick background - we bought our first home shortly after we got married in 2006. It was a cute 1950s farmhouse that needed some work, and we have been remodeling it ourselves since that time. About a year ago we unexpectedly found ourselves in the position of buying a new house (an abandoned foreclosure that was such a good deal we couldn't pass it up). So we've been working even harder since then to finish the remodel, and had 7 days prior finished touching up the little dots where we had filled wood filler over the nails after we installed the last of the trim. We were D.O.N.E! Four years of effort had resulted in a beautiful home that held lots of memories. The final inspection was literally set for the next Friday. And what perfect timing, as we were ready to move on to a life with just one home to worry about, and more time to focus on our little guy.

So the feeling in my gut when I forced my way into the kitchen - couldn't open the door because the ceiling was now in the way - was upsetting, to say the least. Today the drying process has finally been completed, and we're left with a shell of a structure. Big fat START OVER.

But the intent of this post is not to talk about this particular event. I bring it up instead because it puts some context to something I've been experiencing but couldn't quite find a way to describe.

After that night walking into the house and discovering it destroyed, I now find that I pretty commonly get a bit nervous even when I'm walking into rooms in my new house. Or opening the garage door when I get home at night. We recently finished and painted the nursery (3 months late...), and I keep feeling like it's about to be ruined somehow. I think, based on what has happened, that people can probably relate to this or at least understand where I'm coming from.

So it's with that in mind that I'd like to try to explain that I think it's sort of similar to what I often feel with Jack.

Whenever someone talks about the future with Jack, I get uncomfortable. I feel nervous, like we shouldn't be talking about it. My husband says he can't wait until Jack is toddling around the house and causing mayhem, and how fun it will be to go on vacations to his family's farm. And when he says that I just want to change the subject because I'm irrationally afraid about thinking about the future. As if it's going to somehow be ruined, and therefore it's a lie for me to think like it will work out OK.

I know that every parent worries about their child. But I can't help but think that some of this is because I have experienced very closely what it would be like to lose a child. In a very profound way, I know what a gift I hold in my arms every day.

So, to summarize, I have been getting nervous, and feeling afraid, about everything from my house to my son. And I couldn't think of how to explain all this in a way that didn't make me sound like a loonie.

Until I read a post written by a beautiful mama whom I found through the babylost network, in which she discusses lessons learned from C.S. Lewis' book A Grief Observed. In it, he writes about a restless nervousness that makes grief feel like fear.

And that's it! That is exactly what I feel! Only I hadn't put two and two together for myself that the root of this was my grief. I am grieving the loss of my house, and of course I am still grieving the loss of my nephew. Grief is what I have been feeling recently.

Funny that sometimes when we are in the thick of things, we don't even realize we are...

2 Years

2011-01-18T00:00:00.000-05:00

...And we still miss you so much it hurts, but we love you even more Aiden. Happy Birthday little guy!

Hugs, kisses, and so much love,
Auntie Meg, Uncle Jim, and new cousin Jack

Bittersweet

2010-12-09T08:02:00.009-05:00

Wow.

How life has changed in the last 6 weeks.

Our little man is growing and changing, and each day I find myself trying to memorize every bit of him. I wonder if I would appreciate these moments any differently if it hadn't been for Aiden? Before Jack even arrived I think I understood in a special way how precious he is... how precious life is. I love this little man so much it's like my heart is breaking apart just so it can make itself bigger.

And while I could go on for hours about how wonderfully sweet my life has become since Jack arrived, that's not my purpose here today. Today I want to try to capture in writing what I've been experiencing as a baby-loss Auntie following the birth of my son, and that story has both sweet and bitter parts.

For what feels like a long time I had come to really enjoy the place that Aiden had settled into in our lives. There has been so much positive! Teddy Bear Tins has touched almost 100 families, and that's just the families that they have been donated to. I feel like the families who have volunteered have also found benefit. And beyond that there have been simple moments that have meant so much, like when friends learn of newly bereaved families and because of what I have experienced, they feel the need to learn and reach out themselves. Families are receiving support they might not have. Lives are being honored. My incredible nephew - he is the reason these things have happened. What a miracle and a blessing he has been.

And that's where I have been able to find my peace.

I had been afraid that there would be a moment when my son was born that I would suddenly be overcome with grief at finally understanding the connection that would be broken if your own daughter or son passed away. But much like the rest of my pregnancy, what I had envisioned was not what ended up happening.

No, I don't truly understand what a parent goes through when they lose a child, what Aiden's parents experienced. Even though I am now a parent myself, and even though I experienced the loss of a child as an Auntie, it's different.

So in a way I thought that I had made it safely past that emotional danger. But again I was wrong. And instead of a single moment of understanding and grief, what I've experienced instead is a slow sense of the bittersweet as the weeks have gone past. For the first time in so many months, not only does my heart ache for Aiden but my arms physically do again. And I find myself feeling angry, and cheated. I'm angry that Aiden's parents were robbed of the opportunities to memorize their son's little features as he sleeps all bundled up and safe at home. That they will never get to know what Aiden's face feels like against their neck when baby cries and scrunches up his cheeks and forehead, chin quivering in protest.

I find myself unsatisfied with Aiden's place in our lives. It's just not enough to have to settle for a memory. And it's so frustrating, so unfair that my brother lost so much.

The tears have started coming again in the nights as I listen to my son squeak and coo in his bassinet. I am so happy and appreciative of this new miracle in our lives. But as a babyloss Auntie, that happiness is not innocent of what has been lost. And as much as I wish it were different, I know this is the way it will always be. We'll never know what life would have been like if Jack and Aiden could have been here together. I'll never know the color of my nephew's eyes, or the sound of his cry. I'll never be able to erase the pain my brother and his fiancee have felt.

So for right now, my equilibrium has been shaken again. Which I guess is to be expected when you experience a life-changing event. I'm not sure what things will look like when the pieces find their place again. But for now I can hope that they do find their place soon, and that I find the lessons to learn in the process.

Miracle

2010-12-07T07:42:00.004-05:00

And in that breath, this little man stole my heart.

Jack Adam
My Son
Born 12:08 am, November 2nd
...1 year, 9 months, 2 weeks and 1 day after his guardian angel before him

I have much to write, but need some more time to organize it all in my mind first. For now, our son is here, he is healthy, and our hearts are overwhelmed.

Alternate Endings

2010-10-16T10:24:00.006-04:00

I may be dating myself here, but does anyone remember those Goosebumps series books by RL Stine that were popular back in the 90s?

I very clearly remember a summer vacation spent chilling out reading books to count toward my summer reading list, and there was this Goosebumps book that had pick-your-own endings. You'd start reading the story, then it'd come to a point where you had to choose a detail about the story, and that directed you to the next pages to read, until ultimately you had made your own ending. I was intrigued, and I'm pretty sure I tried every combination of choices until I had read every ending (I may be OCD...)

Anyway, lately I can't get that memory out of my head... of me choosing and reading all these different possible endings to the story.

Our baby is due to arrive in two weeks or less, and I'm definitely in that stage where I'm trying to picture how this is all going to end (or start, depending on how you look at it). I'm friends with a number of other ladies due around the same time, and I watch as they discuss everything that they are anticipating once their babies arrive. They've bought outfits, have arranged to have friends stop by and get pictures taken. They worry about whether their husband will remember to include the right strap covers with the new car seat, or if he'll forget and leave the boring tan stock covers on.

And I feel like I'm stuck at the end of a page in that book, and I know there are two possible ways to continue, but for some reason I only see one of them no matter how hard I look. I can't find what page I'm supposed to go to in order to read what these ladies are talking about. That ending is just... missing for me.

But the OTHER ending, that one I can almost recite without having to turn the page. I know every detail, if that is our ending, if our baby doesn't make it. The details of what leads to that being the ending aren't clear, but I know that I'd want pictures, and hand and foot prints, and I'd call friends to ask them to grab a blank Teddy Bear Tin from home for me to use, and that later I'd find a special person to paint it for us. And I'd want a funeral so family could see this child and remember him. I know what music I'd want at the service. I can picture the years after.

This baby will be our first. So realistically I know that even if this alternate ending wasn't so easy for me to picture clearly, I'd really still not be able to predict what it will be like if baby does make it here safely. I guess it just feels disproportionate - I have trouble imagining the happy ending because there is an obvious reality to me on the other side which keeps my head out of the clouds.

So what do I do with this? What do I do when my mind starts looping through this book with the alternate ending that I don't seem to be able to find?

That answer is simple for me now...

I just let go.

Because there is absolutely no way for me to control what is going to happen. And there is absolutely no point in becoming frustrated with not being able to see the ending we really want. Because at the end of the day, there's a bigger picture that already exists that I'd be completely missing if I focused on the what-ifs.

My son is already here with me. Literally with me. I feel him rolling around and hiccuping and kicking me. He is alive and here RIGHT NOW. And every moment with him, whether it's in my belly or outside, is just as precious. So my way of handling these last few weeks, when the tendency is to picture the scarier ending, is to take the lesson that I shouldn't let anticipation replace appreciation for what I already have.

And just let everything else go.

<3

Two Years

2010-10-07T10:45:00.003-04:00

More often even than I've been asked by others how long we will grieve for Aiden, I've wondered for myself what each year will look like.

So it is with that in mind that I relate especially to other families approaching certain milestones. In a few short months it will be two years for us, as it is currently for this special family. I am keeping them close in my prayers this week, and ask if you would that you might think of them too. Kristin I hope that the happy memories with Peyton overshadow your sadness, as she was such a special girl!

<3

Oh, and if you were wondering... my current view is that this grief changes, but it will never end and there is nothing "wrong" with that. In many ways it has made me who I am today, and to deny that would be to deny so much of the good that Aiden brought with him. So it's a part of me now, and will always be an important part of my story.

Reflections of a Babyloss Auntie

2010-09-10T14:39:00.008-04:00

I've been debating about whether to post this post for so long that maybe the title would more appropriately be "Confessions" of a Babyloss Auntie...

In the babyloss community, there is a special sensitivity to the fact that it can sometimes hurt when others have the chance to get what we or our families have lost. When someone gets the chance to have a little one of their own, alive and breathing. Even though we are so happy for them, truly happy, that happiness can make our hearts break just a little bit more as we watch what we never had. We tread lightly, hoping to let others get the joy and congratulations they deserve without falling to pieces.

So what, then, do we feel when WE are the ones waiting on our own little baby?

Yes, I'm pregnant. Very pregnant. 8 months. And until now I've been too afraid to say that here. I just felt like this is Aiden's place, this is a babyloss haven, and that this news would somehow harm that.

But after a lot of thought (and possibly some tears), I've come to realize that it is not only appropriate but even important for me to let everyone know this news, because no corner of my pregnancy experience this last many months has not been touched by Aiden. He is so much a part of this.

And I think the things that I have felt and the struggles I have carried are probably not just mine. Someone else, somewhere, is expecting a baby after a loved one has lost their own. Someone else struggles to respond when strangers ask, "Oh is this the first grandchild?" They too keep spreadsheets of home-doppler readings and kick counts and freak out anytime anything feels in any way different, and think that people who think that there is "only" a 2% risk of something bad happening are much too optimistic. Someone else covets ultrasound pictures like a psychotic hoarder, and is more than happy to pay out of pocket for 3d and 4d pictures and video of an unborn child because you just never know. Someone else spends 15 minutes preparing non-pregnancy topics of conversation before calling the father or mother of an angel, so that you don't feel like you are "rubbing it in their face." To that someone else - officially, you are not alone.

So finally, this is why I have been unusually quiet here. I was never gone. And Aiden has never left my mind. In fact, he's been present more than ever, in ways I'd never predicted. If it weren't for Aiden I have no doubt that my husband and I would still be busy working on our carefully laid out plans, step by step, for how our lives were to progress. Instead, thanks to my incredible nephew, we've had the courage to recognize what is more important and to let go of those things that will never mean much of anything in the end anyway.

I love you little guy, and miss you and pray for your parents every day. We can't wait to meet your new cousin, and hope that you'd pull whatever strings you can with the Big Cheese up there so that we might get to meet our son, even for a little while, before he is called back home.

<3

August 19th

2010-08-19T19:41:00.000-04:00

Won't you join us in remembering today?

This effort really struck a chord with me, especially in the last few days. From the project website, the idea is that...

"By having this special day once a year we get people speaking about pregnancy, infant and child loss. And by doing this we break those walls down so that people are not afraid to speak about these children anymore."

Earlier this week I got the chance to spend over an hour chatting with my brother on the phone. He's halfway across the country in Denver, and I'm in a hotel room two time zones away on a business trip. It was nearly midnight for me, but I just didn't want the call to end. It was nothing especially unusual, no major topics of conversation, just general "hey how's it going? what have you been up to lately?"

Except that at one point, Aiden became part of what we were talking about. I don't even remember what the topic was at the moment, but hearing my brother say Aiden's name literally made me catch my breath, and I realized just how much I miss hearing it. How much I wish I could talk about my nephew all the time, like I'd be "allowed" to if he were any 19-month old tugging on his dad's pant leg while he was on the phone, not a box of ashes sitting next to a candle and a picture.

Me, the pushy this-is-the-way-I-want-things-to-be advocate for babyloss parents, had unknowingly allowed myself to be silenced for weeks. To have my nephew's place in my life quieted by the pressures of comfortable manners. And I hadn't even realized it.

This is such a shame. The effect of the babyloss "taboo" on these families is so profound that I find it hard to explain to anyone who doesn't personally experience it. What makes it even harder is that no one purposely means to do this. It's not a matter of changing hearts, it's a matter of opening them, which I feel like is in many ways harder.

Please support the Day of Hope effort. Please understand what it means. Because the simple gift of hearing my nephew's name was enough to put a few of the broken pieces back together for me that day, and I could wish nothing less for all of my babyloss friends and family.

<3, Meg

Day of Hope

2010-07-13T09:25:00.003-04:00

A lady who leads an effort that I have followed since nearly the beginning of my grief journey is currently coordinating a memory box drive:

Day of Hope

I've offered to provide Teddy Bear Tins to include in some of the boxes, and frankly I'm looking forward to the excuse to get my hands dirty and make up some more tins!

Won't you join me? I'm looking for anyone willing to volunteer to paint tins, or if you'd like to provide any of the other suggested items for the boxes that would be wonderful to!

You can contact me here. :)

Loving this site

2010-05-23T08:00:00.002-04:00

Grieve Out Loud is a resource site for bereaved parents and families that was just started in January of this year. I stumbled upon it by happenstance this morning, linked from another blog post that I was reading.

Side note: For the sadness that binds it together, the babyloss online world is so wonderfully connected and supportive. Here I am 16 months since the start, still finding new resources through this community. What a lifeline.

Anyway, there are two things in particular about this site that I'm loving at the moment:

One is that it includes a Pen-Pal program for babyloss parents. What an awesome idea! Its description starts with, "This is no time to be alone." Sound familiar? ;-)

And the other is that the site includes a rather comprehensive Resource List, including numerous remembrance sites! I'll have to update my link list below as I go through these. As a babyloss Auntie, there's really no time that I'm not trying to think of new and fun ideas to memorialize Aiden. Obviously Teddy Bear Tins is one way, and I also take pictures of landmarks with Aiden's name hidden in them during my many travels throughout the year. Names in the Sand, Say it with Flowers, and Angel Pics have also brought peace to us. Now I have at least a dozen more ways to celebrate Aiden's life.

Just thought I would share. :)

<3 to you today.

Mother's Day

2010-05-09T08:23:00.001-04:00

As Aiden's grandma so beautifully put it...

"Happy Mother's Day to every woman who knows the joy of their children,
and the hope of their future children,
and who have in their hearts and memories their little angel babies."

<3

THIS is what I am about

2010-05-01T09:45:00.011-04:00

It was by chance that my reading took me to this blog, where the babyloss-mama author had published this watercolor:

Rachel, the artist, recently suffered the loss of her daughter Lyra at 30 weeks due to placental abruption. Through her blog she is expressing her grief through not only words but also through beautiful drawings, paintings and other artwork. Her message is profound.

I've long struggled with how to explain to those outside the babyloss world just what exactly it is I'm trying to do here on my journey. And here, in a simple watercolor painting, I find the message so clearly.

THIS is our world, the world of babyloss. You see the grief and the pain obviously, but there's that other theme: isolation. It's a theme that I've seen time and time again as I've met other babyloss families, always there, always haunting them. Truly it's as common a thread between us as the grief itself.

Why is there isolation here?

Yes, some of it is self-created. I remember several months after we lost Aiden that I found myself just not wanting to talk to anyone about it. I was too tired and I didn't want to bring it up because I felt I couldn't handle going any deeper than I had already fallen. But that to me seems normal in any grief, and it didn't account for the entirety of the isolation.

There is more to it.

As a society in general, we treat babyloss as taboo. It's too terrible, too traumatic for us to process. So we repress it. Think about it - someone posts on facebook that it is the 5-year anniversary of their father's death, and what do the responses look like? They're supportive, understanding, hugging arms and loving notes, memories voiced to bring a smile. Now change it up and let's say the post is instead about the 5-year anniversary of their baby's death. Wholllleee different can of worms here. What do you think you'd see? Maybe no responses, no one is comfortable enough to "go there." Maybe just a vague indication of support. Or worse, words of "advice" pointing to all the good things in life now that suggest you "move on."

Over time I've come to understand for myself that by and large this double-standard is not the result of any harmful intentions. People just don't know what to say, or think it's most appropriate to stay out of what is "a private situation." Babyloss is simply too hard to handle.

What they don't realize is that by reacting in that way, we are inflicting this sense of isolation on hurting families when they need support the most. Support not just at a funeral, or a few days later, but forever. Just like you would for someone who has lost an older family member.

It should be just as OK to bring up memories of baby at a family Christmas gathering as it is to bring up memories of dear Aunt Jane. Otherwise, I feel we are contributing more to this isolation. Because parents are left dealing with a complex and lengthy list of rules that describe when it is and isn't OK for them to acknowledge their child.

Sometimes in my openness about Aiden's death I make people uncomfortable. I know that. And I also really think I know why it makes them uncomfortable - it's because they think the way we are supposed to handle it is by keeping it quiet and private, because that's what we do as a society.

But that's the exact reason why I am NOT closed about it. Because I feel so strongly that it's not only appropriate for that to change but that it NEEDS to change.

These families need to know that they are not alone.

And breaking this stigma doesn't need to be scary. It just seems scary when you don't know how to respond to someone who says they've lost a child.

So I am here, to be open and to demonstrate what I know is possible. What I have learned as a babyloss-Auntie. That this isolation doesn't have to be there. I'm here to show through my actions that there are appropriate ways to respond and support babyloss families. To show that it is perfectly acceptable to live in a household where memories of a baby who died are shared happily and without the uncomfortable silence. Where anniversaries are given their due, and a life is openly respected and honored as the gift that it was. To end the unnecessary isolation that only makes grieving more difficult.

THIS is what I am about.

My Wish

2010-04-07T10:50:00.004-04:00

This last month has been an illustration of what I wish for all babyloss families.

We went to work, went home, bought groceries, cleaned, had some nights out with friends, gave the puppies their baths, I worked on our taxes. All pretty routine things one might think.

But what was different for us as we were doing these things, as we were living our lives, was that we found Aiden as a part of them, and it felt NORMAL. I can openly and freely say Aiden's name to my husband, and several close family members and friends. And he can be in a conversation. And there's not a taboo with it. He's just there. He's a part of us. He's a part of our lives. He is WITH us.

Last year in the deepest parts of the sadness I often read about people finding their "new normal." While I could understand what they were saying I don't think I really truly related to what that meant until now. I had always envisioned the new normal being terrible, and just sad and painful. I hadn't thought of the good parts.

Sure there is still sadness, and that loss and wondering what he would look like today, and how life would be different. But there is ALSO this happiness. This gladness that he WAS there, that he IS a part of our lives, and that nothing can ever take that away.

Having Aiden as a part of my life has brought me a lot of peace recently, in ways I didn't even expect.

And I truly do wish this on every babyloss mamma, and pappa, and grandma, grandpa, auntie, uncle, sister, brother, cousin, friend... Wishing you peace <3

No really officer, it's not crack, it's plaster of paris!

2010-03-06T06:51:00.010-05:00

So there I was in the Olive Garden parking lot, suspiciously measuring out white powder into little baggies while my dad stood watch...

LoL that sounds just as sketchy as it probably looked while it was going on!

To start at the beginning... This past Monday I was up in Pennsylvania for a family event and I had decided to take the opportunity to make another delivery of Teddy Bear Tins to St. Luke's Hospital, which is in the area I was visiting. I had received tins from two artists and, already being in the area, thought it smart to hand-deliver the tins and save the cash that shipping would have taken. I hadn't had the time to assemble the kits yet, so I lugged my plastic bins of supplies up to PA with me and planned a stop at my dad's where he would help me put them together.

And truly, the plan was working just fine until shortly after 12:00, one hour before the time I was supposed to drop the tins off, when I discovered that I didn't have enough plaster of paris left to fill the kits. There lay 10 perfect little lids, drying in the sun from their coat of sealer, with their perfectly folded instruction packets and stickers on the back, with only 5 bags of plaster.

Now when I'm at home I know exactly where to buy my plaster of paris. After weeks last year of searching for just the right imprinting medium I finally found the right mix that dries in just the right amount of time and now I hoard it zealously whenever I have the chance. But up in PA? Nope, no idea where to buy it.

So, I spazzed.

Over the next hour my father drove my frantic butt across the better part of the Lehigh Valley until we finally, FINALLY found a craft store that carried the plaster. But then we didn't have enough time to go back home to finish the kits!

Which is how we ended up in an Olive Garden parking lot on the way to the hospital. And is why I was measuring suspicious white powder into little plastic baggies, while my dad stood watch.

Because how exactly would I explain to the police that "no this is not illegal drugs, this is plaster of paris and these are special kits for angel babies!"

As I spastically scooped the last few bags I wondered what the officer's face would look like after I gave that as my excuse. Would he tell his buddies back at the precinct about the "lamest excuse he'd ever heard from a drug dealer"??

But luckily the police did not come. And I did not have to defend my Teddy Bear Tins activity. :-P

Shortly after 1:00 we made it to St. Luke's and I successfully dropped off the tins. The ladies in the NICU even knew what they were when I walked in the door, even though they had never met me personally. And they said they use them, and they love them!

So between that, and the precious visual memory I have of my dad standing watch in the parking lot, I'd say it was a good day. :)

Daily Life

2010-02-16T07:32:00.003-05:00

This past weekend I attended a baby shower. My husband is very close to his cousins, and one of them is shortly expecting his first child with his wife. The pregnancy has gone well medically but his wife has been having a hard time as her mother is no longer with her. So we really wanted to show our support for them, to let her know we're all here with her. And I think she felt that. It was a beautiful shower and they are now well set with baby things!

OK, separate paragraph now. Keeping the happy separate from the sad.

I struggled so much with this baby shower. Going through my head the entire day was how much I wanted to make sure the day was about HER and her new family. And thankfully it was. I was on eggshells, barely holding it together, but I made it the whole day. It was beautiful, and it was terrible. I'm just glad that I didn't ruin it with my mood and I was able to keep up a cheery facade. But in my brain it was a thunderstorm. Every time she opened a gift she happily commented how they were "really going to need this!" And instantly my brain shot back "I hope so!" As if it does any good to make sure that particular caveat is kept in mind when a new mother prepares to meet her little one. She was so happy and so filled with hope. And that TERRIFIED me. At this point in M's pregnancy with Aiden, and for many weeks beyond, we all were just as happy and hopeful. Just as innocent.

I guess that was one of the worst parts. Me going through in my mind just how tragic each of the gifts and each of the happy statements would be if what I knew can happen actually happened in the end. God PLEASE don't let that happen.

Her husband's sister, my husband's other cousin, is a long-time friend of mine. And as she giddily showered her sister-in-law with "I <3 My Auntie" gifts my heart just broke. It hit me that she's me, 15 months ago. That smile, that excitement, that anticipation. I forcefully kept my eyes looking away. I am so thankful that I have been able to keep to myself enough so that she is able to feel that.

It had been a while since I had been put back into the thick of grief. I knew this shower would probably do that, so of course for weeks I dreaded it. Then someone suggested that I have a "buddy" with me just in case, so a few days in advance I talked to my brother-in-law's girlfriend and she became my buddy. She was fantastic. She helped keep distraction with conversation, and in general was a life-saver. I highly suggest this buddy-system for anyone else in a similar situation. Without knowing she would be there I don't think I would have gone, which would have been a shame.

OK, shaking it off...

Other than this shower, things have been going pretty well here. For the most part, since Aiden's first anniversary we have enjoyed possibly the first few weeks of our new normal. On Valentine's day a friend of mine sent me an email that simply contained this picture:

And it made me smile. :) That sort of sums up our new normal. It's us, living a life, and Aiden is a part of it. We see him pop up all over the place. He is in our hearts, and he is in the hearts of those around us. That, I love. I am so thankful to be in a place where thinking of Aiden can make me smile more than it makes me cry. Where my relationship with my brother is even stronger than it was before. Where we all support each other. Those are the good things. The things we need to keep going and to have hope for the future. This is my new daily life.

A Beautiful Day

2010-01-19T10:17:00.006-05:00

There is a story by an author named Richard Paul Evans called "The Christmas Box." In it, he tells of an old widow who mourns the death of her only child by visiting an angel statue. As the book rose in popularity, the author started to hear stories of bereaved parents and families looking for this statue so that they too could mourn there. Long story short: the Christmas Box Angel statue was commissioned. And then another, and another, so that now there is a Christmas Box Angel statue in nearly every state in the U.S.

So I found one that is near to my home and called the woman listed on the website as the point of contact for that statue. I was assuming the number was probably out of date and I wouldn't reach anyone but a man answered right away. I told him I was called about the Christmas Box Angel statue and he immediately knew what I was talking about and passed the phone to this contact woman. She answered the phone and proceeded to make me, a complete stranger, feel like I'd known her for years. She was so welcoming and immediately gave me detailed directions to find the statue and even left me with her work number in case I had any trouble.

I didn't end up needing to call her, as I enjoyed a pleasant drive through the country until arriving at the statue.

It was dusk and the sun was perfect. Furthermore, the day was unseasonably warm. I mean it was the middle of January and it felt like spring! It was so wonderfully peaceful. I left white flowers at the base.

The day before my husband had surprised me by picking out his own flowers that he wanted to leave at the statue as well. He couldn't join me for the trip, but wanted to be a part of it.

So this is how we were able to remember Aiden on what should have been his first birthday.

Looking back the day went a lot better than I had thought it would. The morning was the worst for me, which was really what I had expected anyway. I talked to A & M frequently and they seemed to handle the day well in general too. None of us could remember exactly what time Aiden was born (hospitals don't keep the same records when the baby has died), so they chose 8:00 pm and lit candles from his memorial service and that they got for Christmas. They also bought him a little "My 1st" baseball and a story book. As M put it, they focused on remembering him and all of the good stuff rather than letting themselves think about the bad stuff.

It was a beautiful day. I'm glad it is over, but I am also glad that it will now be a good one for me to add to my memory bank. Thank you so much to everyone who kept us in their thoughts and prayers! :)

Broken

2010-01-18T07:11:00.003-05:00

This is it.

7:10 am.

One year ago, I was right in the thick of it. We had decided to take our time and get ready to go to the hospital as we had been instructed to for a routine induction since the due date was a week past. We were all up early of course because we were so excited, but knew that if we got to the hospital before 8:00 we'd just sit and wait anyway.

So we happily got ready. M showered, and felt him kick. This time one year ago, she felt him kick.

I know it's pointless but so much of me right now just wants to scream back at those shadows from one year ago. Something is wrong! Hurry!! NOW!!

I knew this time of day would be the hardest for me today. In a little while, I can no longer say that one year ago he was still with us. I don't want that door to close. But I know it will. Time stops for no one.

I will be better later. I know that. I have plans for today, for remembering my angel nephew. I'll be driving out of state to the location of a Christmas Angel statue, to remember and honor little Aiden and to pray for his parents. I'll leave white flowers there, as I've read is the tradition for remembering children at these statues. I think it will help bring some peace into this day.

Haiti

2010-01-15T09:07:00.004-05:00

For the parents and other adults who have died. For the children and babies who have died. May our love and support help the survivors find the strength to carry on.

Counting Down

2010-01-13T14:38:00.006-05:00

5 more days

And then it will have been a year.

What exactly do I call that day, one year after the day that my nephew died and was born? I've heard a few different phrases: BIRTHday, angel-versary, anniversary of death, just plain "anniversary," special day...

My approach to determining what I want to term the day has been the same as my approach to all things grief-y lately: complete denial and avoidance. The thought of what I might want to do on Monday, January 18th will pop into my head and then ::whoosh:: my brain blinks "ERROR MESSAGE! SYSTEM FAILURE! REBOOT!"

My mom is driving up to RI to be with A & M. If they ask for me to come I will of course be there in a heartbeat, but for now, I'll be home. Something about being up there with just them and my mom, like it was last year, and it being the same places and sights and environment... I just don't want to relive it, or have them feel even more like they're reliving it. I've relived it so many times over the past year already. Ugh!

I've read many accounts of what people do on the one-year date, hoping to get some insight on what I can do to help A & M. From that, I did come up with one idea which I'll post about later (it's a surprise). But for the most part, it seems like it's hard to predict what the day will be like and how they'll want to handle it. I'm just really unsure about the whole thing.

And of course I have no idea how I'll handle it.

That avoidance thing I mentioned? Yea, some of that sounds good right about now...

Eloquent

2010-01-06T16:59:00.002-05:00

I found this while reading through blogs, and just thought it was such a beautiful analogy.

Thinking of a few special people on their grief journey today. <3

2009

2010-01-01T08:33:00.002-05:00

To this year of sadness and hurt, I say:

Goodbye

and

Good riddance

ALI...

2009-12-29T10:54:00.006-05:00

...Or Adoption/Loss/Infertility, to those unfamiliar with blogosphere slang.

This is the niche on the web in which I have made myself comfortable over the past year. I find so much healing in reading posts from people who understand what I'm going through. Generally they are able to better state it than I am, so I tend to comment more than I post. But the therapy in any case has been immense.

At the same time, I feel like a misfit. I arrived here during my struggle for breath after Aiden died. I found Carly first. And she just seemed to understand. She honors angel babies everywhere, she knows what it means to remember them. I was better prepared to face the "outside" world because I read about what happened to babyloss mamas in the ALI world, what they thought and felt, how words and actions affected them.

But I wasn't a babyloss mama.

I'm Aiden's auntie.

Mama > auntie

So I tread lightly, knowing that I don't truly know what they feel. I know what I have felt, and it seems to echo so closely what they speak of. But I respect the difference.

And it makes me think, maybe there's a reason I came here. Because everywhere that there is a babyloss mama and papa, there are almost definitely babyloss grandparents, and probably babyloss aunties and uncles, and friends and other loved ones. All hurting for the loss of hope.

We suffer at the same time that we search for belonging. Respecting differences, sometimes maybe holding back a little too much. Feeling deeply every hurt that babyloss mamas speak of. Grieving quietly behind them. Wanting so much to comfort them, to let them know that at least in some way some of us understand too.

It was Aiden who brought me here.

He is our angel. And I can't help but wonder if there are reasons why he's done this.

Christmas

2009-12-25T15:43:00.002-05:00

Merry Christmas, Aiden. We love you!

Trying not to think of what today would be like if things had only gone differently.

Missing you and sending you hugs up in heaven.

Love always,
Your Family

Teamwork

2009-12-14T15:04:00.007-05:00

A blogger friend described what grief does to a mind: it makes the edges fuzzy, it blurs and distorts. I am was a very organized person. Friends would lovingly say that I had OCD. :-P But for the last eleven months that organized person has been on hiatus. Basic things like washing my clothes BEFORE I have to get dressed for work has become a serious challenge. I can't even count how many mornings I've stared into the empty fridge as the realization dawned on me that I'd forgotten to make food for my next meal. I'm lucky if I make it home at the end of the day in one piece. Gone are the days of lists and planning and productivity in general.

The point of this is to explain that I have a new-found appreciation for productivity, as it now has a tendency to escape me.

This past weekend was the first exception in a long time. Drumroll please...

...Our long-standing bathroom remodel has progressed! We have gone from tiny, disgusting, leaking, claustrophobic 1950s bathroom to the skeleton of a new and vastly improved space.

Maybe it's just side effects from breathing in too much mold and asbestos for the last two days, but looking at what we accomplished this weekend I get this strange tingling in my belly. Sort of like, could it be, happiness??

Nah.

But at least a sense of satisfaction that productivity has happened. Perhaps the elusive is not so out of reach as I had thought?

And I'd just like to say how much satisfaction I get from working on these kinds of projects with hubby. Remodeling is our hobby, and I remember having a lot of fun doing this kind of stuff, but with all of the insanity it had been a while. We make such a good team. This work is almost therapeutic to me. We can be standing in the midst of an open pit where a bathroom once stood, covered in dust and splinters, staring at rotten framing boards and cabitzing like old farts over how best to fix it, and I'll just look him in the eyes and start giggling.

I love this man.

I love that we're a team.

Last night after picking the last of the construction debris out of my hair we went to our church Christmas cantata. And in the darkness, as the bellchoir played and one of the young "sheep" wandered off the stage, he wrapped his arm around me, and that belly tingle progressed into a smile.

Happiness. :)

Thanks & Giving

2009-11-30T08:22:00.010-05:00

First, I owe some thanks...

...To the many people who made this delivery of Teddy Bear Tins possible. THIRTY-FOUR tins (1 not shown in the picture), and two bags stuffed full of teddy bears. This single delivery was larger than all my previous deliveries put together. St. Luke's has asked me for 90-100 tins to meet their yearly need, and at first I thought it would take me many months to gather enough. Now with these and the previous group I shipped them, we're nearly halfway there already.

...To the three artists who are currently painting tins, including a sweetheart on the opposite side of the earth whose beautiful nephew's spirit shines through in her.

...To the family and friends who spoke Aiden's name to me during the Thanksgiving holiday. For remembering him. For making him a part of the day. For being so welcoming to his parents as they gave of themselves preparing the meal. For surrounding them with the love they need.

...To the dear friend who allows me to openly discuss my current struggle, even when I didn't realize that saying things out loud can be healing.

...To my husband for his wonderful hugs, which I miss terribly while he's out of town.

...And finally to whatever supernatural power it was that convinced me to take my vacation days off from work this week. This tangled ball of nerves has finally had the chance to unravel a bit. Can I take the rest of the year off???

* * *

This past weekend I attempted to accomplish some of my Christmas shopping, since my job will have me on travel for most of the month of December for the second year in a row. And after several hours of semi-success, driving through two states in search of the right deals, I came to a moment where I found myself standing in a shopping mall parking lot in the rain. It was dark, I was tired, and I was frustrated as I dug through the black hole that is my purse in search of I don't even remember what. There were shoppers pouring out of the glass doors at the front of the store, mothers dragging crabby when-can-we-go-home children behind them, averting their eyes from the Salvation Army volunteer ringing his bell, dashing out into the street as cars with equally impatient drivers honked at them, all focused intently on getting to the next store as quickly as possible, checking off the Christmas list just to get it done.

And in a moment of clarity it hit me that I don't want this. I wouldn't wish this insanity on anyone I loved. I find my Christmas joy in giving, I do understand the value of a gift, at least from that side. But I don't understand the value in a need to just be forced to check off our list with whatever random material thing we can come up with that sort of reminds us of something that person likes (or we remember them liking, since we haven't had time to see them all year), that costs roughly the same amount as what we think they'll be spending on us (don't want to over- or under-do it, awkward!), and is located somewhere that we can get to during the rush before December 25th.

I will be happy to find gifts for everyone on my list, to the best of my ability making those gifts meaningful, giving of myself because it makes me happy to make them happy. But in return, my wish for those I love is that they be spared from what the holiday seems to have become. I don't want to be a reason that anyone should find themselves in that scene in the parking lot. This may sound cliche, but hear me out.

Right now, where I'm at following this terrible year, is a place where what I need most is peace. My heart needs it. My soul needs it. I have what I would consider to be a charmed life. My husband and I both have jobs that pay well, we have our big house on a hill in the woods, and when we want to buy something we generally can just go buy it for ourselves. Yet with all of these things I've struggled so hard to be happy, to find peace. In a way that I only partially understood before Aiden touched my life, the "material" in this world is just not important. So many people don't understand.

I know for me that my definition of happiness has changed. I think part of my problem is because I expect happiness to happen in the same way that it used to. I look for happiness in light-hearted silly made-for-tv moments. In times when everything is going perfectly or normally. And this sets me up for failure, because the way I see life now I'm no longer innocent of the imperfections and complications. Something good happens and I can't be happy about it because I'm too distracted by what I know is wrong. For something to get through to me, it's like it has to be at least as powerful as the sadness and pain that I carry around. Goofy material things just don't do it.

So I need to change how I find happiness. And I think the way for me to do that is for me to just let go. To give in to what maybe the universe wants me to do, the path that I can't see where it leads to. I need to serve others. I need Teddy Bear Tins to continue. I need to give, truly give, in order to find peace. Because the gift is in the giving.

So if you want to get me something for the holidays, please instead just support Teddy Bear Tins. Or enjoy a quiet moment remembering Aiden and thinking of his parents. Or reach out to that family you know that has lost a baby and say all of the things that you have been meaning to say. Just please don't let the rush and the things prevent you from finding some peace, from feeling some happiness.

Baby Boom

2009-11-19T07:08:00.003-05:00

It seems like babies always come in bunches. Just shy of 18 months ago, half of my female coworkers were all in their last trimester. I was surrounded by babies. Then there was mostly quiet, and now again I find myself surrounded by glowing mothers-to-be.

Friends, acquaintances, family. And I think I'm handling it very well.

I'm sure they wonder how I'm doing. I know they tip-toe around me. They are so kind to think of someone else when they have a lot of their own life to focus on right now.

This morning Carly put it so simply, how I feel for these expectant mothers. It's not anger, it's not hurt (well, at least not directly), it's not even really jealousy. ...It's fear, and sadness. Fear that something will go wrong and they and their families will join this miserable club. I do worry myself sick about them. Every happy comment they make, I feel compelled to tell them to remember and hold onto every precious moment. But I hold myself back.

I'm conflicted about whether or not to say anything, to pass on any lessons learned as it were. Because I remember what it was like to not know about this other side. And while I was naive then, did that really make it hurt any more or less in the end? Carly put it so succinctly... These people may be naive, but they are just more innocent than anything else. And innocence lost is innocence lost, regardless of when it happens. So maybe it's just nice to let people keep their innocence, and to pray they can always be that way.

More people should know of the truth of stillbirth, and that the United States has one of the worst rates of infant mortality in the civilized world. This I believe is necessary to have any hope of enacting change. We should not hide this just because it is a difficult topic. To do so is a great disservice to ourselves. I strongly believe that.

But I think it may be OK to let mothers-to-be just be. Even when your heart aches in worry for them.

Another Milestone

2009-11-03T22:44:00.003-05:00

It's official! As of now I am providing tins to our second hospital, St. Luke's in Bethlehem, PA. Teddy Bear Tins has been approved by their neonatal bereavement board, which is a praise considering just how busy the nurses who staff that board are on a day-to-day basis. I'll be shipping all of the current completed kits to them around Thanksgiving and I can't wait. From that point I'll be working to get more tins painted as I don't have enough yet to meet a year's needs for this hospital. They need 90-100. :( It's hard not to think of what that number represents.

That's all for now. I'm currently hopping around on a bunch of travel for work and I won't find myself home for about a month. Yuck. But at least I can keep myself busy working to gather more volunteer artists. Thank goodness for distractions!

Fall

2009-10-22T11:04:00.003-04:00

Dear Aiden,

The leaves are turning colors, shades of orange and red and yellow. In the morning I hide from the cold under my blankets, preparing to jump out from them with the same resolve it takes to jump into a chilly pool in the summer. The days are shorter and the air is crisp. It is my favorite season. I had waited for Autumn, to feel your spirit on the breeze as I stand outside. But I feel lost. It doesn't feel the same as it used to. It's too dark, and too cold, and the trees don't seem to have their normal glow.

By now you would be crawling. I can picture your cute little diapered bottom as you speed down the hall at your mommy and daddy's apartment. You'd make drool bombs and gurgling noises and happy squeals. You'd smile with a goofy grin, with a few new teeth making an appearance. You'd hide your head on my shoulder when I held you, shy and a flirt just like your daddy was at that age.

I want to take you to the pumpkin patch and show you all of my favorite Autumn traditions. I'm going back to the same pumpkin patch I went to as a kid. They still have the same hay-ride and you-pick-it fields and indian corn. I want to prop you up next to an enormous pumpkin and take a picture and post it on facebook. My handsome nephew for everyone to see!

I miss you, and Autumn seems more like Fall.

You are a thousand winds that blow.
You are the sunlight on ripened grain.
You are the gentle Autumn rain.

Love you always,
your auntie

Supporting Bereaved Parents

2009-10-09T21:14:00.003-04:00

I'd like to post some helpful information for family members and friends of bereaved parents, because I've learned in the past months that even people who have the best of intentions just may not know how to support someone who has lost their child due to stillbirth. It seems like the death of an infant is in some ways different than other deaths. Perhaps it's a bit more taboo to recognize because of the magnitude of the tragedy. But there are some truly simple and straightforward pieces of advice that I feel can go a long way:

(Adapted from www.griefspeaks.com)
* Be there for them. Grieving parents retreat from the world for a while, so make an effort to keep calling, visiting and let them know that you are there if they need you.

* Acknowledge their loss, and don't pretend it never happened. Even an early miscarriage can cause significant and lasting grief for a couple and that loss should not be ignored or minimized.

* Refer to their baby BY NAME, if they had chosen and announced a name. Many grieving parents are comforted by this because it means that we acknowledge that the baby existed, even though for a short time. This advice in particular is HUGE. Referring to their child as "the baby" can make their angel sound more like an incident than a person.

* Listen to them. They may need to talk about the loss of their baby; some parents keep photographs of a stillborn baby and want to show their family and friends. Just follow their lead, and talk when they need to talk and listen a lot.

* Offer to help them commemorate their baby. Some parents keep a grief journal or memory box with thoughts and mementos of their lost baby (hospital blanket, bracelet, shower announcement, lock of baby's hair, photo, pictures of mom pregnant).

* Remember that grandparents and siblings also grieve. Many will need support as well.

* Avoid saying, "it was for the best," or "you can always have another baby." Many people use statements like this in an effort to comfort and reassure the parents but it is the last thing grieving parents need to hear.

* Don't avoid the parents. Acknowledge the anniversary of the couples' stillborn delivery. It allows people to know they are not alone and that others are grieving too.

* Show sensitivity. Acknowledge that other's happy news may be painful for the grieving parents. Don't be angry at them if they can't attend a baby shower, baptism, or other ceremony at this time. They probably already feel guilty and isolated enough.

* If you find yourself struggling for what to say, just say, "I am so sorry for your loss," "I am praying for you," "We think of you and *child's name* often."

Basically: acknowledge, actively care, show support.

And finally, remember that grief is a process. No one ever "gets over" the loss of a child. Your life will go on, but theirs will never be the same.

Ups and Downs

2009-09-23T09:41:00.003-04:00

That's been my year. Ups and downs, in insane succession. In 2006 I hit a ton of milestones all in a row - graduated college, got my first "real" job, moved to my first apartment, got married, bought my first house. That was a major year. And I remember at the end of it thinking how much I'd have to do the next year just to measure up to what had already been accomplished. 2006 was a better year than 2009 has been. I'd like to believe that life gets better every year, but I think I'd be kidding myself if I thought that. Some will be up, some will be down.

In many ways I feel like when Aiden died, I did an about-face on my path to the future and started walking right back in the opposite direction. Now I don't know where I am. Why is that? I was there that day, with them. Until late afternoon I was the only one with them. I was in it, in the thick of it, physically and emotionally. But I wasn't IN it like they were, I'm not Aiden's mother or father, I'm "just" his aunt. Why does it affect me like it does? Does this mean it's that much worse for them? I can't even imagine what that would be like.

I've said before that grief is a funny thing. I think in the past month I have been grieving more than I was the previous few months. I thought I was done with the worst of it? What's going on?

And then there it is. A hope for the future, when I realize that I AM grieving. That I feel like absolute crap for a reason, not because life in general is just bad. That this will happen, it's part of the process. That maybe 2010 will be better than 2009, and maybe I can bring more of the good from this past year with me than I do of the bad. Because there have been ups, they're just hard to see from the bottom of the downs.

God bless the mommies and daddies of angel babies. No one should ever suffer what they do.

New Look!

2009-09-18T07:07:00.002-04:00

It's still a bit of a work in progress, but thanks to an anniversary gift from my hubs, the blog has a new look! With how clueless I am about CSS coding, I'm impressed at how simple it was to get the nice scrapbooking look for this blog that I had hoped to. I'm still working on all the static links, but once those are up I'm ready to publish! :)

My hope is that this site will make it even easier for me to spread the word about Teddy Bear Tins and find volunteer artists. The pace has been a bit slow here lately, but really I think that is just because I've been too busy to seek people out actively. Moving house and long hours at work are keeping me more than occupied. But at least on the moving front I think we'll finish this month. Then my evenings will be evenings again, instead of painting- and cleaning-fests!

I've also really been wanting to write down Aiden's story for people to read. It's been on my mind for a few weeks, but I've been too conflicted about what tone it needs to take. My mood lately has been changing so quickly, I'm still grieving, that it's hard for me to look forward to what it will be like when the grief is less raw and some peace has been found. On another blog during my daily peruse I found a Bible verse that someone had posted, and I think this is where I'd like to go with this for today:

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jer. 29:11

I need to trust that there is goodness somewhere and that there is hope for the future.

Chugging Along...

2009-09-02T08:44:00.003-04:00

It's been a busy month! I don't know if I mentioned it, but that house we put an offer on... we got it! So now hubs and I are busily readying our new home and moving. If nothing else it certainly keeps us busy as taking care of two homes (we won't sell our old one for about a year until the market comes back) has proven to be probably more than twice the work. But we love every minute of it. :)

And in the midst of the craziness, Teddy Bear Tins continues on. I keep detailed records of every tin and every volunteer (seriously, I'm OCD), so I know that at this point 48 tins have been lovingly crafted by people spread across the east coast of the United States, and more are being worked as I type this. Of these, 24 have already been donated, along with a huge box of cuddly little teddy bears. My mom has a meeting with our second hospital this week to work through all the details of what they will need, and the remaining 24 completed tins will go to them shortly afterward. I can't believe I'm already considering contacting a third hospital!

This weekend hubs and I are taking a break from the moving to head up to see his family at their cabin in Pennsylvania. I'm looking forward to spending the weekend working on this website, hoping to get it more functional and running so that I can publish more widely. I want this to be a tool for spreading the word and hopefully finding more volunteer artists across the world.

The Neonatal Bereavement Coordinator from Christiana Hospital contacted me to ask if she could send thank you's to the volunteers who painted their tins... Teddy Bear Tins, and supporting these grieving families in general, is so important! It's hard to explain what it means, but I think that as these volunteers give of themselves and their time that they too are feeling the gratitude of these families.

TBTs Wish List

2009-08-30T19:21:00.011-04:00

I've been so touched recently that a number of generous people have asked me if there were any things they could provide to help out with the effort. I hadn't thought of that! I concentrate heavily on seeking out volunteer artists, and have always just taken care of getting what is needed to make that all happen. I love doing this, so it doesn't really seem like work. But I realize that they will continue to prod me, so I figured I better get doing my homework!

As I've mentioned before, I'm not really comfortable with accepting monetary donations. I think instead it would be better to focus on the materials that go into the making of the tins. But what exactly are those?

Good question.

Finished tins are made up of the tin itself, which I buy in bulk and seal to prevent rust, plus a kit inside made up of instructions, plaster and a mixing stick. Add to that some labeling, miscellaneous shipping and packing supplies, and of course the teddy bear painting itself, and you've got finished product! I like to keep things simple. :) Broken out in graphic form for those who are as OCD as I am, the relative costs look like...

So I guess if I were to make a wish list it would be based on this little exercise, and it would consist of:

1) Blank tins. I buy these in bulk from a specific distributor, with a box of 48 costing about $100. If a group would like to purchase tins I think it would be easiest if they contacted me and I can help arrange it.
2) Testor Model Acrylic paints, which I've chosen very specifically after a painful few weeks of experiments and learning a whole lot more than I wanted to about paint types lol
3) Plaster of paris
4) Quart-sized zip-top bags
5) Postage (the post office sells $4.95 Priority Mail stamps which work for the size and weight of boxes that I send to artists within the U.S.)
6) Spray cans of gloss clear acrylic sealer
7) Paint brushes like these, which I typically find at Walmart

Lastly, if you have some small (8-10") teddy bears, while they are not my main focus I provide them to the hospitals as well. Because really, who doesn't love teddy bears?? :)

Milestones

2009-08-11T22:46:00.008-04:00

Where to begin...

*On July 10th I received the first painted completed tin lids. They happened to be the set from Aiden's great-grandpa. They were beautiful!

*On July 15th I received the second set of completed tins, from a woman who had never even met me but heard of Teddy Bear Tins through the Chesapeake Mommies group.

*On July 16th my dear friend Cindy Learn worked with me until we perfected the plaster-making process and finalized the kit contents. Each assembled kit now contains a premeasured baggie of plaster, a popsicle stick for stirring, and an instruction sheet (also prepared by Cindy!)

And on the back of each kit I'm putting a sticker...

*On July 21st I made the very first delivery of Teddy Bear Tins! The Neonatal Bereavement Coordinator from Christiana Hospital in Newark, DE was kind enough to meet me at the community center near my home. Included in the delivery were some teddy bears that I made and one that I purchased because I liked its fur. :)

...Since that time I have received dozens more completed tins, from friends, family and strangers. All incredible people who have given of themselves and whose generosity will help to bring peace to families when they need it most.

Yesterday I had to order more blank tins, I had run out! And today with the help of my mother, who happens to be a pediatric nurse, Teddy Bear Tins has been extended to its SECOND hospital: St. Luke's in Bethlehem, PA.

Since this journey started, Teddy Bear Tins has been a significant source of healing for me. This is the only way I can do what I want most right now - to be Aiden's aunt, to honor his memory and to remember him. Now that it is growing, I think Teddy Bear Tins can start accomplishing the second half of its mission, to honor angel babies. "In memory of Aiden, in honor of angel babies."

I don't automatically get notice from the hospital when a tin gets used, but as they come back to me to send more tins I know that they get used. And every single tin used is a family that right now is lost and needs something to hold on to.

Thank you, sincerely, to everyone who has helped to provide that for them.

Where have I been?

2009-07-07T20:00:00.005-04:00

Good question!

The last few weeks have been very busy, but in a good way! Hubby and I have put an offer on a new house (we don't know yet if we got it) and Teddy Bear Tins is taking off. That and we continue to remodel our current house, plus of course our full time jobs, of which mine is insane!

So it's been a bit stressful, but today I'm trying to breathe and recenter.

I think Teddy Bear Tins has been very important in my "recovery" process. I had been starting to have headaches and memory loss, in addition to being in a general fog for several months. Since putting my heart into this new effort I've felt a lot better.

At this point I've got a box full of 48 blank tins, all the paints, brushes, and supplies needed for the volunteer artists... basically everything needed to make the kits. For the last week I've worked to assemble boxes and have now shipped them to my first four volunteers. In about a week I hope to have the first round of finished tins. I cannot WAIT to see them!

My grandfather, Aiden's great-grandfather, is one of the volunteers. Quite unexpectedly I received a phone call from him a little while back. Smiling I could tell that he had been prodded to call by my grandmother. My grandfather asked if he could paint some of the tins, saying that he used to paint. I never knew my grandfather had been involved in art! Later my grandmother emailed me and said that she thought this was important for Grandpa, that he might need it to help him heal. Then on Sunday after I sent his box of supplies she sent me this picture:

Absolutely. Priceless.

"Thank you Lord for the gift of this day, for the love and peace that I see in this picture. I beg you to continue to comfort my grandfather and all of Aiden's loved ones. We miss him more than we can understand."

A Better Place

2009-06-17T20:00:00.000-04:00

Teddy Bear Tins seems to be taking off, and my heart finds such peace and meaning in this new effort. After I sent my email I have had numerous responses and even have my first two volunteer artists. People can be so wonderful without even realizing it. Even those who can't "help" because they aren't able to paint tins have been so helpful. Just meeting someone at the local Walmart and having them bring up the topic of Teddy Bear Tins to apologize that they aren't able to paint brings a smile to my face. Why? Because someone has just acknowledged my nephew's legacy. Aiden is now in the hearts and minds of even more people. I truly hope that this journey accomplishes something meaningful. Not just in memory of Aiden, but in honor of the many, many children who have grown angel wings and their families.

Yesterday I finally found the source for the blank tins, a definite accomplishment! It's trickier than I expected to find the right size and shape blank white tin! But when I got off the phone with the woman I knew they would be the right place. She's even sending me a free sample to make sure they are perfect before I order a full case. :) I also found the right paints thanks to a local hobby shop this past Monday. After some fussing with them on my demo tin it seems they will do the trick, as they dry quickly, cover well, leave a durable finish, and don't require the volunteer artists to use any fancy solvents for cleanup. Never thought I'd have to learn so much about acrylics! lol With those plus the mixing sticks I picked up and the plaster of paris that seems to be working well as an imprinting medium, we are almost ready to get this ship out of the harbor. Have I mentioned how excited I am? :-P

Fingers Crossed!!

2009-06-11T20:00:00.000-04:00

I just sent this email message out to everyone I could think of. Praying now that God's grace guides my effort and that we are able to accomplish something truly meaningful!

"In Memory of Aiden"

Dear Family and Friends,

Many of you know that on January 18th of this year we suffered the tragic and unexpected loss of my beautiful nephew Aiden, one hour before birth at 41 weeks.

In one moment our lives were changed forever, and in the five months since then I have been searching for ways to respond to what is, to say the least, an entirely changed perspective on life. Aiden was and continues to be a miracle.

No new parent should ever have to leave the hospital without their child in their arms! But for those who must, many hospitals have a special group of dedicated people who put together memory kits for the bereaved families. Kits usually include things like pictures, hand and foot prints, special articles of clothing, books/poems, and an assortment of other items as they are available. These memory kits are so important! They are a source not only of memory but of peace, a tool for grieving and healing.

And it is with that in mind that I have created Teddy Bear Tins, in loving memory of Aiden. I am so excited! Teddy Bear Tins are hand & foot imprint kits that are provided to hospitals to be used in their memory kits. A nurse makes baby’s imprint in plaster which is contained in a small hand-painted tin that mom, dad and loved ones can hold on to forever.

Our first hospital has requested that we provide them with Teddy Bear Tins, and this is where I really need your help!! I am searching for anyone with artistic ability, professional or simply talented, who would be willing to paint teddy bears on the lids of our tins! Attached is a picture of an example that I have put together. I will ship the lids and instructions to any volunteer and collect the lids after they have been painted. No cost will be involved other than time and heart! I can even provide the paints if needed!

So please, please, please! Are you or do you know someone who would be willing to help out? Could you help me find someone who is? I have faith that somewhere, someone in our many networks, in a church group or on a community board, in a circle of friends or someone you remember working with years ago, will see or hear this message and will be willing to help me help these families. Please freely pass this on. If you could have them email me as soon as possible, I would be forever in your debt!

“Thank you” doesn’t really do justice to how I feel about the support that we have received and what it means to me for people to be willing to help honor my nephew's memory.

Aiden’s Auntie always,
Meg

Teddy Bear Tins

2009-06-05T20:00:00.001-04:00

I just sent an email to the Neonatal Bereavement Coordinator at a nearby hospital asking if she'd be interested in what has become my first "Aiden Act," and now I am obsessively checking my inbox waiting for a response lol.

I am awaiting the response to my email in hopes that I can bring to life my first Aiden Act. I've been working to put together some cute little hand/foot print imprint kits that can be included in the memory boxes that I know many hospitals give to parents whose babies grow wings. I want it to be something practical and easy for the nurses. So far I've determined that the kits will basically be made of small white tins that I put clay/plaster into. I like this idea because some imprint kits I've seen are just intended to make a tile or stone and I think those could break over time. The tin is small and durable, and it can be closed when needed. Because the nurses are busy and don't likely have time for arts and crafts, I'm testing out some plasters and clays that I can premake inside the tins and then vacuum seal them to keep them pliable until they are simply opened and the imprint is made. Also, I want to work with local artists to have the lids of the tins painted. I think they will be beautiful! As I test things out to find out what kinds of things will work well for this I have put together a quick test tin (pardon my painting abilities, I'm definitely not an artist! :-P)

I don't know why, but I really like the image of a teddy bear for the lids of these tins. Teddy bears just seem so comforting and innocent. I want these kits to be a comfort to parents, something that they can physically keep with them. The hospital where Aiden was born gave our family a stack of ink footprints that we could all keep. I thought that was such a great idea! I hold mine dear. It's kept locked away in my safe, but I think of it often and I can take it out to touch and see whenever I need to. I hope that these kits can be like that. A mother or father may not be able to hold their baby's hand again, but they can touch and feel the details of each little finger, visually soak in a tiny perfect 3-D footprint, anytime they need to.

I've mentioned my idea to a few people and several have offered to help me. God bless them. The goal of this is to bring peace and healing to bereaved parents and families of angel babies. I haven't even finished the first tin and already my heart finds joy that other people want to participate. For me somehow I feel like, by painting a lid or making some clay or helping in any way with this effort, that someone else is acknowledging Aiden's spirit. It means so much to me.

I found this poem today, and I think it helps explain a lot of how I feel:

“You can shed tears that he is gone,
or you can smile because he has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that he'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all he's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see him,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember him only that he is gone,
or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what he'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”
~David Harkins (modified)

Finding My Voice

2009-06-02T20:00:00.000-04:00

My mind keeps buzzing with ideas and things that I want to say. There is so much to do! I'm ready to run down this new path that I have found stretching out ahead of me. It makes my heart burn just thinking about it. There is so much to accomplish, so much to be learned, so much to give back.

So as a general update, I have been working hard to determine exactly what I'd like to do for my first Aiden-inspired community service. This process consumes me and I love it! I know obviously that I want my service to be something directly related to support for parents and families who have lost babies. I've read about organizations like Whispered Support, NILMDTS, the Harry Line, the Butterfly Haven, Names in the Sand, and others. All of these people are so incredible! It makes me think how I can possibly best use my skills to make a difference. Other people have done it, so somehow I feel like that helps me because there is already a community out there that can relate to this fire that I feel. In any case, I think that I would like to start by doing something small and simple, sort of something to help me as I learn more and find my way into this new area.

I've contacted the March of Dimes and continue to try to establish myself in that community. I've offered my time and resources to do anything that they need, from stuffing envelopes to raising money to donating supplies. I know that they are busy doing this important work, so I continue to offer myself as a resource and can't wait to see where that goes. So far I got to be involved in one event: early in May I got a phone call late in the day from a woman who was coordinating our local March for Babies and had one of her table sponsors drop out at the last minute. I filled in for them and manned that station on the very next day, it was great! It poured rain the whole time and there I was sitting with this ridiculous grin on my face handing out water and lollipops to the walkers. They must have thought I was nuts lol. :)

Woops I'm out of time for today! I'll have to post later with my newest idea. Sorry to keep you in suspense!

Getting Started

2009-05-22T20:00:00.000-04:00

After spending the last several months dedicating a large portion of my "free" time to pouring over other people's blogs, I've decided it's about time I start my own. Possibly I should have started this earlier, but I'm embarassed to say that I was a little bit overwhelmed by the technology (go ahead, laugh). When I graduated from college a whopping three years ago I put my laptop in a box and haven't been on Instant Messenger more than a handful of times since. It's insane how much things have changed in that short time! It's not like I don't use computers - I'm on one 9 hours a day with my job - but I just haven't spent my time using social networking tools. I can't believe I just called them social networking tools. I'm so old! Somehow in that time Facebook has gotten a case of ADHD and scrapbooking has gone digital!? In any case, it took me a couple hours just to figure out how to set up a blog and customize it. And I'm sure I'll spend the next week figuring out how to make the perfect scrapbook template and cute little tags for my sidebar...

But anyway, I think it will help me to have a specific purpose for my blog. Since I've been thinking about it for a few months I'm pretty sure I know where I want to take this: I'd like this blog to be about my search for a life with deeper meaning. I've always wanted to be more involved in charity and community service, and I'd like to push myself a little further in that direction to see where it takes me. I have a wonderful life - a loving husband, a great job, a roof over my head, "children" (of the four-legged variety) that greet me when I come home each day - I've got it made. So I really think it's time that I pay back for all that I have been given. Therefore I will use this blog to chronical the path that lies ahead of me, and hopefully it will help me to stay on task and maybe even link me up with people who can point me in the right direction as I move forward.

That's all for now!

Q&A

2009-05-01T08:00:00.012-04:00

What exactly is a Teddy Bear Tin?
No new parent should ever have to leave the hospital without their child in their arms! But for those who must, many hospitals have a special group of dedicated people who put together memory kits for the bereaved families. Kits usually include things like pictures, special articles of clothing, books/poems, and an assortment of other items as they are available. Teddy Bear Tins are hand & foot imprint kits that are provided to hospitals to be used in their memory kits. A nurse makes baby’s imprint in plaster which is contained in a small hand-painted tin that mom, dad and loved ones can hold on to forever.

How can I get involved?
I am always looking for volunteers with artistic ability to paint tins!! Please see info here. And if you are as artistically inclined as I am, meaning not at all, then you can still help simply by spreading the word. I hope for this effort to become a sustainable resource that can be provided to many hospitals, in memory of Aiden and in honor of the many, many families who have lost babies.

Are you a registered charity?
At this time Teddy Bear Tins is not a 501(c)3 registered charity. This is just something I do because I feel it is important, and I haven't found the time to jump through the legal hoops quite yet.

Do you accept donations?
Because this is not a registered charity, I am not comfortable accepting monetary donations. If you would instead like to directly provide materials which help in making the tins, I have put together a list of what I use here.

How much do Teddy Bear Tins cost?
I provide the tins free of charge to hospitals, my gift for bereaved families in memory of my nephew, to honor all angel babies. I personally provide for all expenses associated with the raw materials and putting the tins together, including arranging for them each to be hand-painted by volunteer artists.

What hospitals do you serve?
Currently Teddy Bear Tins are provided to Christiana Hospital in Newark, DE and St. Luke's in Bethlehem, PA. My goal is to provide a year's supply of tins to each hospital. As this effort grows, I contact a new hospital each time I'm able to meet that goal.

Volunteer Info

2009-05-01T08:00:00.001-04:00

Thank you so much for your interest in this special effort!!!

I myself am not artistically talented (understatement lol), so the success of Teddy Bear Tins relies on the generosity of a group of wonderful people who are willing to give their time and talent to paint each of the tins. This also ensures that every tin is unique and beautifully made.

All of the details you need to understand the process, what it would involve, and how to get started is below!

PROCESS: When someone is interested in helping to paint, the process goes as follows...
1) They contact me
2) I work with them to determine how many tins they would like to paint (generally in the range of 2-5 per person)
3) based on where they are located I can either drop off the supply package with the tins at their location or have them shipped to them
4) in roughly 1-2 weeks I'd ask that they contact me for me to pick the finished package up, or they could return ship them to me (I can even provide pre-paid shipping if needed).
And that's it! I take care of sealing the lids with a clear acrylic protective coat, assembling the kits with the plaster packs, etc and drop them off at the hospitals. I'm happy to confirm when an individual's painted tins have been received by the hospital. :)
Please note that there is no cost involved for volunteers other than time and heart.

PAINTS: I provide these to borrow! I have special model-acrylic paints that are super easy to use and clean up with water, while still providing a durable finish on the tins once dried. The paints and all supplies are included in the supply package that I provide.

TINS & INSTRUCTIONS: The tins are small (3.5"x5") rectangles and are blank white. Each person is invited to paint any type of teddy bear that they would like, and they could even paint a background behind the bear if they want. There is no "pattern" to follow and no major requirements other than that they feel it is appropriate. I provide a detailed instruction sheet in the package of supplies when I ship the tin lids that answers any questions you might have!

I hope that you find your participation in Teddy Bear Tins to be as meaningful as I have. :)

Contact Info

2009-05-01T08:00:00.000-04:00

Contact me anytime! I can be reached at teddybeartins@gmail.com.