Team Conner and Ben

Today was the big MOD March for Babies in Chicago!  We were prepared for rain, wind, and cold (and this girl packed some extra ponchos, just in case).  Thankfully, we only experienced a few drops of rain. The wind and the cold sucked, though. I wore five layers today.  People bundled up with coats and blankets, which flew around in the wind. Well, except my husband who gave me his jacket (what a guy). As soon as we crossed the finish line - I kid you not - the clouds parted, the sun came out, and you would think it was the most gorgeous spring day.

 Tim and I before the walk

The back of our team shirts

My nails for the walk

We had about 50 people on our team.  We were told we were the largest family team at the Chicago walk this year!  Last night and this morning, last minute donations came pouring in.  Tim and I made one last donation ourselves while we were standing around waiting for the walk to start.  We bumped ourselves up to the third place family team in the Chicago walk, raising over $12, 425!!!  We had cash and checks turned in this morning, so I am guessing our final total is around $13,000.  We are so blessed to have so many supportive friends and family.

There is a big "but" here, though (and no, not mine. Although, possibly).  Before the walk started, a couple of guest speakers went up there and asked everyone to raise their hands if their baby spent time in the NICU. Then they started talking about how one of their babies was born early - AT 38 FUCKING WEEKS. That's one week past full term, asshole. And then, the big blow: "We are walking for the babies in the NICU. That is why we are all here - for them."  Blah, blah more talking about the miracle babies who do make it home thanks to MOD.

No, that's definitely not why I was there.  I understand that the money we were raising was to help fund research to prevent prematurity.  But I was walking for my babies who never saw the NICU.  I looked around at other team shirts and saw that many of them were also walking for their babies who passed away. I was so offended.  Had the MOD forgotten that so many of us were walking in memory of our babies?

My feelings were hurt.  I just wanted to run up there and scream, "WE ARE ALSO WALKING FOR THE BABIES WHO NEVER MADE IT HOME." We were marching for our babies who never got to take their first steps. I'm sure there were more words spoken on that stage before we started the walk, but I blocked them out.  No need to hear any of this crap anymore.

I do want to make sure I say this though - I truly had a good time with our team, who has been so supportive of us.  I support the March of Dimes mission, totally and completely.  It was a great tribute to our boys, and a wonderful way to contribute to a great cause. We spent the three miles catching up with old friends, laughing, talking, and just being together.  I had an empty place in my heart all day because my boys were not there with us, but I feel like I am slowly starting to feel like myself again. I thanked everyone for coming, and they in turn all thanked me for letting them be a part of the day.

 Team picture take 1.  We're holding up a picture of Benjamin and Conner so they could be in the picture, too!

Team picture take 2.  My trying to get my hair out of my face turned into my head being cocked to the side like an idiot, lol.

I think we may do something different for Benjamin and Conner next year.  I'm not sure what though.  I would like to do the March for Babies every other year, and fill the years in between with other activities for them.  I'll think of something to do.  There are different ways to fund raise for premature babies, and one of them was to donate to the hospital our boys were born at.

We went to the Butterflies of Hope Memorial that the hospital has every spring for the babies who have gone to heaven. It was just hours after the MOD March for Babies.  The nurse who handles the NICU donations is also the same nurse who coordinates the memorials for the babies who passed away. My mother-in-law made blankets for the micro-preemies and my sister-in-law made knitted hats for them as well.  Tim and I donated money so that they could buy more memory boxes for the families who don't get to take their babies home.  Our nurses said that they have so many donations for the full term babies, but no one needs hats or blankets for them  - obviously, parents bring their own.  But the micro preemies hardly have anything that fits them, because no one makes anything that small.  Thankfully, my in-laws are very crafty when it comes to sewing and making baby clothes, so they got right on it as soon as Conner and Benjamin were born.   We were so grateful to the people who donated the blankets and hats for our boys, and it was so touching that our family was working to give back to the hospital.

We delivered our babies at a very large and very well-funded hospital.  It is consistently ranked top 100 in the nation in various specialties.  It has a level 3 NICU, so many micro-preemies from other hospital are constantly being taken to this hospital.  And that is probably why, when we walked into the main entrance, we were ticked off when the lady at the front desk didn't know what memorial we were talking about, which auditorium it was in, and gave us attitude about asking her anything about it.  My husband just wanted to say, "listen, lady, its a memorial for dead babies, so spare me your attitude."  He didn't.  I wish he had.

We got to the auditorium after walking down long and winding hallways.  The hospital does two memorials a year.  The memorial in the fall is a walk in the forest preserve with a balloon release at the end.  Last year, about 500-600 people attended.  The coordinator told me that the spring memorial is the smaller memorial they have.  I figured maybe there would be 100-200 people there.

There were 28.

Our well-funded hospital, in their brand new auditorium with a state of the art sound system, was playing depressing music from a boom box.  Remember those?  Yeah.  Obviously, the hospital could give two shits about this memorial.  One of the nurses came up to the podium, explaining that she would call us each up there to share our experiences with our babies.

Um, excuse me?  Isn't this a memorial?  When, exactly, did this become a grief support group? And if they were going to ask us to tell a story about our babies, they could have given us a heads up.  I wasn't prepared for this. Then more sad music played.  I sat in agony while a woman sang about what she wondered her baby would be like and how she will never hold her baby again. A prayer was said.  More sad words. Nothing was positive.  It was like they didn't want to remember our babies with happiness.  They only wanted to grieve.  I understand this is what many people wanted, but it was not for us. Another emo song played (remember emo?  Yeah I'm just evoking tons of memories of the 90's/2000's, aren't I?).

I turned to my husband and told him we had to go.  He looked relieved.  I could tell he was miserable.  We left the donated blankets, hats, and our cash donation for memory boxes with a woman who looked like she was coordinating the event. We told her to give them to Renee, the nurse I had talked to.  And then we left the world's most depressing memorial ever.

My babies' legacy will not be grief.  Every second I held them was the happiest I had ever been, even knowing that soon they would be taken from me.  They brought more happiness into my life in 22.5 weeks than a lifetime with anyone else could.  When I talk about them and when others talk about them, I think we will be sad because we were robbed of precious moments with them.  But I would rather look at Conner and Ben, talk about them, and think about them with happiness and be thankful that they ever existed at all. Even though they are no longer on this earth, they are mine and I am theirs.  Nothing will change that.