My Easel Back 

That’s right, Michael Nelson, you’re an easel back. Hear me out… I’m talking about those long straight edge structures that protrude out from behind a picture frame. It may be the unpopular opinion, but the ‘easel back’ is quite frankly the most important piece. Without it, the beautiful image behind glass would simply fall flat on a surface. Like an easel back, Michael, you never seek the spotlight, yet you provide the constant and necessary support in order to let everyone else see the “full picture”.  

You are the ultimate ‘supporter’; both at home and in your workplace you extend a helping hand to anyone without hesitation. You are the ‘easel back’ that props people up at just the right angle; the stability that those around you feel hinges directly on your extreme compassion.  I had the unique opportunity to witness you be ‘𝘋𝘢𝘥, 𝘊𝘊𝘙𝘕 ’ to our Theodore. Dad first, but yes, ‘registered nurse’, too. Your compassion involved advocating clearly, reasoning with logic, and exercising extreme patience while constantly reassuring me in the most terrifying moments with our son. If you act in the workforce anything close to how you did with Theodore & I, it is absolutely no surprise that you are being honored as ‘Nurse of Distinction’. 

Scouring downtown Buffalo tonight in order to find this billboard was such a fun family memory that I will never forget; a moment that deserved to be documented… Because when you go from ‘easel back’, to being ‘framed’ front and center on a billboard illuminated 50 feet high in the sky, I surely wasn’t going to let your humble self forget it! 😉 Simply put, I just love the crap out of you, Michael. #SoProudOfYou

❤️Alexandria

… join me by #FallingRightSideUp 👆🏼

when life gets turned upside down👇🏼

Seeing The Unseen

𝗦𝗲𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗨𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗻

It’s such a blessing and a curse. 

The hard truth is when I look at a picture of my children, I instantly see the one that is missing.  It is my broken heart that sometimes has the 20/20 vision, while my regular eyesight takes a backseat. I see the unseen. I see the empty space above MacKenna’s shoulder where Theodore should be leaning over, with his 2.5 year-old chubby arms tangled inside her hair. I see Theodore’s blonde curls that have finally grown-in and made their way over his big toddler ears; I see his untucked matching plaid shirt with the one navy blue suspender strap hanging off.  MacKenna should have a brother sitting on her lap 𝘢𝘯𝘥 squeezing around her neck. Grief is “special” like that; it gives humankind the blessing and curse of seeing the unseen. 

…Because while I sit quietly this morning with my coffee in-hand, processing another hectic Easter holiday that has come and gone, I also “𝘴𝘦𝘦” the distraught expression on Jesus’ face when he learned of his daunting assignment to save all of humanity. I see the tears rolling down Jesus’ scruffy cheek the night before His brutal crucifixion; He, too, understood fear, anxiety, and all things ‘unfair’. Through the most painful death, came the greatest gift of eternity, and because of that, I see the unseen.  I see my Theodore with a whole heart, running; running 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵between both of his Papas who tickle and kiss him every few minutes, until it’s finally my turn again… ✝️  #TheGiftOfEternity

❤️Alexandria

… join me by #FallingRightSideUp 👆🏼

when life gets turned upside down👇🏼

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗹𝗮𝘁 𝗟𝗶𝗻𝗲

𝟰/𝟵/𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟬

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗹𝗮𝘁 𝗟𝗶𝗻𝗲

I saw the flat line.  It was a flat line that told me your heart was finally too tired to produce another beat.  An illuminated flat line had the ability to call the attention of dozens of people within seconds; my own eyes being the first and the last to acknowledge the magnitude of its meaning… I glared at that horrific flat line between blurring tears as if I was some sort of superhero who had the power to make it spike again. But, not even the strength of my love for you could create a single little blip in that awful flat line. 

Last night, I also saw a flat line; it drew me in like a heavy undercurrent that pulls you away without permission. I ran towards the glowing sunset with your little brother in-hand, and I saw the flat line where the blue ocean met the burnt orange sky; the flat line that the big sun is required to pass before mankind is ever granted another day… because the truth is, the flat line – whether it’s dreaded or it’s embraced, is like a boarder; an invisible boundary that must be crossed to achieve new beginnings. Two years ago, you so bravely passed over your flat line into the new territory of eternity, and not even Mama could hold you back… 💔 #CHDawareness 

I love you, Theodore Nelson 🧸

❤️Alexandria

… join me by #FallingRightSideUp 👆🏼

when life gets turned upside down👇🏼

➑ 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦!

⫸ 𝕋𝕠𝕡 𝕋𝕖𝕟 𝕋𝕚𝕕𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕤 ⫷

➙ 17 pounds 5 ounces

➙ 27.5 inches long

➙ only sits still for Mickey Mouse Clubhouse

➙ rather nibble on own feet vs. dinner 

➙ “Mr. Crazy Squawky Pants”

➙ hits fists on mouth to make funny sounds

➙ huge fan of peanut butter 

➙ loves when Mama sings ‘Open-Shut Them’

➙ highly offended if binky is offered  

➙ obsessed with banana puffs

⫸ 𝕄𝕒𝕞𝕒’𝕤 𝕄𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕄𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 ⫷

After a little wrestling, I clipped you in the “big-boy seat” of our stroller. You do not like the idea of being confined, yet Mama has a way of convincing you to relax and enjoy the ride… all your frustrations quickly dissipated after tucking a blanket around your sides, popping a banana puff in your mouth, and placing the bumpy dino-teether within your grip. It’s always a good sign when the bottom of your heels begin to clink together with excitement… 

…and away we went! 

It was the first nice weather day of the year; your big sis was in school, and Daddy was sleeping from night shift. You, my little 8-month baby, have the ability to make as much noise as a whole football stadium of fans in an overtime game. We call them “squawks”, but honestly, they’re more like long drawn-out bellows that also have the ability to reach decibels I didn’t even know existed. Sometimes I’ll catch myself instinctively trying to coax you into softening your tone; I press my nose against your drooly cheek and whisper sweet gentle sounds into your ear, but you, Arthur, are definitely not one to be easily persuaded. You whip your head around, look me directly in the eyes as if I’ve insulted you and then let out the biggest: “AHHH-GAHHHH!”. Needless to say, being outside after a long dark winter felt absolutely ‘freeing’, for us both. Your voice didn’t have to bounce off our walls any longer, but instead it beautifully echoed within the trees. 

The birds were matching your volume. The wind still carrying winter’s chill. The hot sun landed it’s rays on the top of my head like a warm hug. As we continued walking down the bike path, I closed my eyes and deeply inhaled some of that heavenly atmosphere. Just then, a few tears began to leak out of the corners of my eyes; it was as if I was already internally overflowing, and that fresh breath of air actually expelled what needed to come out. There’s something about nature that makes me feel so close to your brother, Theodore. Maybe it’s existing around everything that’s completely untouched by man? Maybe it’s not being contained by four walls and having the ability to fully interact with the unknown? …or maybe it’s the opportunity to simply connect with our “inner-child”; becoming ‘loud’ with our feelings, and having no fear of judgement from the birds and the bugs…  yep… “AHHHHHHH!” – this time, it was me who belted it out, straight up to the heavens with no barriers in-between… you paused, and looked up at your goofy Mama with a huge smile of approval. I love you, Arthur. 

❤️Alexandria

… join me by #FallingRightSideUp 👆🏼

when life gets turned upside down👇🏼

‘223 Reminiscent Days’ with “my boy(s)”…

Today, you outlive your brother. 

Which means:

223 days of loving you…

223 days of studying your eyes; I fixate on the faint gold ring around your dark pupil and how it dissolves into a large mass of deep crystal blue. 

223 days of kissing your head; I lean in with pursed lips, simultaneously inhaling your perfect baby sent, and I’m always greeted with some sparse fuzzy hairs tickling my nose. 

223 days of holding your hands; I delicately wrapped your wrinkly newborn fingers around mine, and I now encase your entire pudgy palms to provide support during the proud moments of balancing upright. 

223 days of singing to you; I instinctively put a melody to most of our communication, as I yearn to provide your laughs in the good times, and your comfort in the hard times. 

Mama can barely believe that she had these same 223 days with your brother, Theodore. And then tomorrow comes ‘day 224’; yet again the beginning of a new chapter. Tomorrow is the first “𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘢” day that I’ll be able to spend with you; a day I was never given with your brother. I’d be lying if I said that entering this uncharted territory wasn’t overwhelming; I’ve found a ‘weird peace’ in always recognizing your wide variety of similarities with Theodore. But now, I must rely on my imagination and always wonder from here on out how many of your characteristics truly would emulate ‘Big Brother’.  

I so badly wish this milestone wasn’t our reality, but Mama is forever grateful for the gift of these past ‘223 reminiscent days’ with “my boy(s)”…

It’s amazing just how much love can grow in 223 days; it can root itself so deep and so strong that not even death can kill it. 

-♥ Alexandria

… join me by #FallingRightSideUp 👆🏼

when life gets turned upside down👇🏼

ARTHUR IS ➐ MONTHS!

⫸ 𝕋𝕠𝕡 𝕋𝕖𝕟 𝕋𝕚𝕕𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕤 ⫷

➙ 16 pounds 11 ounces

➙ 27.5 inches long

➙ two cute bottom front teeth

➙ somehow acquired nickname: ‘Moo Moo’

➙ “Mr. Loves To Shout”-not just for the Bills

➙ boycotts sleep whenever possible

➙ not a fan of peas and green beans

➙ loves music; especially Big Sis on piano

➙ refuses every bottle & sippycup on the market

➙ obsessed with peek-a-boo & tickles

⫸ 𝕄𝕒𝕞𝕒’𝕤 𝕄𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕄𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 ⫷

“𝘊𝘙𝘈𝘚𝘏 “…toys make their way over the highchair ledge, bouncing off the floor in all directions. “𝘈𝘏-𝘎𝘈𝘏𝘏 !”… you shout with great anticipation for dinner. “𝘐’𝘔 𝘏𝘜𝘕𝘎𝘙𝘠 “…your sister insists, as she hurries through homework in order to bring out the forks and plates.

Dinner is served by Dad, just as he flies out the door; his own food wrapped in a to-go container or else he’ll be late for night shift. “𝘚𝘓𝘈𝘔 “…the front door, as he leaves in a rush. “𝘞𝘖𝘖𝘍 !” …Wanda has to go pee outside. “𝘉𝘌𝘌𝘗-𝘉𝘌𝘌𝘌𝘌𝘗 “…your green bean puree is ready! “𝘞𝘖𝘖𝘍 ” …Wanda is cold and wants to come back inside. “𝘎𝘙𝘈𝘈!”…you yell; your impatience is growing…

My food is left on the counter, ready to reheat later, and your sister begins to indulge as I come running to the rescue, ready to fill your belly. “𝘖𝘗𝘌𝘕 𝘜𝘗 !”… I’m anxious to hurry-up because there’s still so much to do before bedtime. “𝘌𝘌𝘌𝘌𝘒!” …you shriek with closed lips, communicating your disgust with the night’s menu. “𝘐 𝘋𝘖𝘕’𝘛𝘓𝘐𝘒𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚”…your sister declares, as she supports your ‘dinner disapproval’ just in a slightly more mature fashion. “𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘕𝘎-𝘉𝘖𝘖𝘔-𝘚𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘏”…the pile of dirty dishes in the sink comes toppling down.

“𝘞𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘏 !”… Arthur. meltdown. initiated.

I walk away. I feel stranded. I hold my head. I want to cry… but, “𝙃𝙀𝙔,𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝘼𝙉𝙉𝘼 𝘿𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀?!” Yes, before my own tears begin to well-up, I make this absurd proposition. You and your sister stare at me and go silent… “𝘏𝘌𝘠𝘎𝘖𝘖𝘎𝘓𝘌, 𝘛𝘜𝘙𝘕 𝘖𝘕 𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌 90’𝘚 𝘔𝘜𝘚𝘐𝘊 !”…at least Google Hub listens to me, even when both of you refuse… I scoop you up, and we start casually bouncing to the beat. Your little legs kick my sides with excitement as I begin to march in circles around the island countertop. Big Sis leaves her seat to join our dance routine with her funny twists and turns, making you giggle-away the puddles of tears around your eyes. And just like that, an irritable moment quickly turned marvelous.

These surprise ‘dance parties’ have been on repeat the past few weeks. Something as trivial as turning on the radio has had the ability to transform our loud, chaotic, and uncoordinated kitchen into what feels as peacefully synchronized as a ballet dance floor.

So, I promise to slow down, Arthur; I will continue to ask in hectic moments: “𝙃𝙀𝙔, 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝘼𝙉𝙉𝘼 𝘿𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀 ?!” …because before long, it won’t always be your pudgy little hands pinching the back of my arms, but my old wrinkly hands clutching onto your arms…

I love you.

-❤️Alexandria

… join me by #FallingRightSideUp 👆🏼

when life gets turned upside down👇🏼

THEODORE NELSON BRINGS ‘CHD AWARENESS’ TO TELEVISION! 📺

Spectrum News Coverage – Reporter, Andy Young

Mama certainly prefers being 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 the camera verses in front of it… but I’d also climb to the top of Mount Everest if it meant sharing your story, Theodore… 😌 ‘CHD Awareness’ is now something I will be forever passionate about until the day I die, when I can hold my courageous heart warrior in my arms once again. ❤️💙

Thank you SO MUCH to Spectrum reporter, Andy Young, for reaching out and surprising me with this unique opportunity!

Thank you SO MUCH to my dear friend, Tracy Parke Gibas, for providing the absolutely beautiful hard cover Mama Bear books featured in this clip. I send out one with every Teddy Bear Care package!

Thank you SO MUCH, to the amazingly talented Barb @ So She Sews & Quilts, for putting all her heart and soul into our enormous Theodore quilt featured in this clip. It will be a family heirloom passed down for generations!

My heart will remain broken until I’m reunited with Theodore, but it sure does feel full of love today… 🥰

If it’s ever in your heart to sponsor one of the heart families we choose each month, feel free to visit: https://fallingrightsideup.com/monthly-teddy-bear-care…/ …When the time is right, I plan to do SO MUCH more with ‘Falling Right Side Up’ in my precious Theodore’s honor, and in the name of ‘CHD Awareness’. Go out and show some love to someone today. ❤️💙

#CHDAwareness

#HeartMom➡️#LossMom

#ItsHeartMonth

❤️Alexandria

… join me by #FallingRightSideUp👆🏼

when life gets turned upside down👇🏼

❤ ⅔ ❤

Here’s 𝟐 of my 𝟑 little Valentines that will forever occupy their own little spaces in my heart. Theodore has taught me that our hearts are cool like that… what the eyes can no longer see, the heart will always remember.  And even though my heart feels very empty with one Valentine gone, the perfectly portioned sections specially reserved for each child will always have

“🄽🄾 🅅🄰🄲🄰🄽🄲🅈”  

But without a doubt, it is you, Michael Nelson, who constantly flips that switch for me; who turns on that “no vacancy” sign inside my heart when I rather sit in the dark. You illuminate it in the most obnoxious bright neons to constantly remind me that a ‘𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭’ is not determined by how many of our kids live under our roof, but by how much our love for them withstands time. And just when my “no vacancy” light starts to flicker, you’re right there, recharging it with new batteries; giving me grace when I’m withdrawn, randomly saying Theodore’s name, and validating my every emotion.  It certainly hasn’t been pretty, but somehow you make me feel beautiful while I bear the ugliness of grief. I love you so ridiculously much, Valentine of mine. 

#CHDAwareness #ChildLoss #Valentines #ItsHeartMonth 

❤️Alexandria

… join me by #FallingRightSideUp 👆🏼

when life gets turned upside down👇🏼

Theodore’s Only Valentine’s Day – February 2020

𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗨𝗥 𝗜𝗦 ➏ 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦!

⫸ 𝕋𝕠𝕡 𝕋𝕖𝕟 𝕋𝕚𝕕𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕤 ⫷
—————————
➙ 16 pounds 1 ounce
➙ 26.25 inches long
➙ rosey cheeks; poor teething babe
➙ sits-up unassisted for a few minutes
➙ “Mr. Handsome Hot Temper”
➙ wakes up 1-2 times a night for a snack 
➙ devours all of Mama’s homemade purées
➙ favs: snowy walks & blowing raspberries   
➙ refuses the bottle and demands Mama
➙ loves to horse around with MK & be tickled

⫸ 𝕄𝕒𝕞𝕒’𝕤 𝕄𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕄𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 ⫷
—————————————————————
Mama must be insane to say I actually haven’t hated your 3AM wake-up calls, and maybe I’m even crazier to deem them as some of our most ‘marvelous moments’ this month?

Throughout the past few weeks, like clockwork, between 2-3AM, I start to hear your little feet rustle inside your sleep sack. It’s true, a mother may close her eyes at night, but her ears stay wide open. I know exactly what you’re doing without even having to glance over at the glowing monitor screen. The gentle rustle begins to turn into a heavy kick against the mattress springs, and then I know I have just a few seconds before the whimpering sets-in. My eyes remain closed as I wait that extra minute to see if you’re willing to settle back to sleep, but like a switch, your meek fussing transforms to a boisterous shout; you crack me up Arthur, the way in which you command attention is similar to a drill sergeant ordering around new recruits.  And right on schedule, my eyes pop open in confirmation that “mama is needed”. 

I tiredly stagger towards your bedroom, but with brand new perspective. This. is. luxury! This wake-up call is not from a doctor in the middle of the night telling us you’re in cardiac arrest. This wake-up call is not the loud beeping of machines signaling your desatting, not getting enough oxygen. This wake-up call is not a surgeon tapping us on the shoulder in a waiting room saying we can go see you, but that you’re heavily sedated and unable to move.  No Arthur, your wake-up calls are just that- my “wake-up” and reminder of the beautiful reality that comes with a healthy child; strong lungs that wake up the entire house, and good blood circulation that turns your skin pink while crying, instead of blue. The simplicity of needing ‘just me’ to change your diaper, rub your back, and nurse you back to sleep is the polar opposite of your brother not needing ‘just me’, but sometimes a whole team of medical professionals to pump him with medications in order to save his life.

I miss Theodore with every fiber of my being, but these past couple years I’ve realized that when you want what you can’t have, you start to need those things that others don’t want… like 3AM wake-ups… It’s now thirty minutes later, I’m staring down at your sweet milk drunk face, Arthur, and I wonder “who really needs who?”.  I love you.

❤️

-Alexandria


… join me by #FallingRightSideUp ☝🏽

when life gets turned upside down👇🏽

𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗨𝗥 𝗜𝗦 ➎ 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦!

⫸ 𝕋𝕠𝕡 𝕋𝕖𝕟 𝕋𝕚𝕕𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕤 ⫷
—————————
➙ 15 pounds 1 ounce
➙ 25.5 inches long
➙ reaches for anything in sight, our faces included
➙ met Santa, but infatuated with Mrs. Claus
➙ “Mr. I’ll Bite Your Knuckles” (if you let me)
➙ enjoyed 1st Thanksgiving at the table
➙ sleeps through the night… when Dad is home
➙ favorite: staring at all the lights in church
➙ pounds chest super hard when excited
➙ loves oatmeal mixed with apples or bananas

⫸ 𝕄𝕒𝕞𝕒’𝕤 𝕄𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕄𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 ⫷
—————————————————————
It’s no secret that Daddy is the chef of the house, but Mama certainly has a passion for the “first year of foods”.  I find it absolutely fascinating how at only a few minutes old, you, my tiny brand new human, could instinctually latch on and drink milk like it’s a task you’ve mastered for years… Now, fast forward five short months, and those same incredible ‘instincts’ of yours have you patting your rounded belly, reaching for my spoon, and opening your mouth so wide, as if you’re about to bite into a double quarter pounder with cheese!  Instincts. They’re weird. They’re cool. They’re nearly impossible to suppress.

Nourishing you is hard work, yet it brings me so much joy and satisfaction. Maybe it’s because with your brother, Theodore, I was unable to fulfill my instinctual desire to feed him for months at a time… Maybe it’s because I now have a greater appreciation for the simplicity of watching food go down your throat and into your belly, instead of cringing while your brother’s “food” went through an IV in his veins, or down an NJ tube in his nose. And just maybe, it’s because I absolutely adore the wonder and excitement I get to witness in your eyes when new flavors hit your tastebuds; ‘taste’ is deemed a ‘simple pleasure’ in life, yet I’ve actually learned that it is not all that ‘simple’ for some…

Similar to your inherent inclination to find food when your belly grumbles, my maternal instincts crave to provide it. I look forward to watching your legs kick with impatience as I mix the grains in with milk. I wait with great anticipation to watch your facial expressions after you have new fruits every couple days; I found that apples cause your little nose to crinkle.  Arthur, it’s like you have bailed me out of jail with your messy little oatmeal-faced grin; those little bits of ‘instinctual motherhood’ felt as though they were lockdown for the longest time.  You’ve set them free; my “feed your baby instincts” now feel as ‘free’ as the mushed baby food that escapes through the corners of your lips and down your chin…

I love you, Artie

🧸
❤️

-Alexandria


… join me by #FallingRightSideUp 👆🏼

when life gets turned upside down 👇🏼

Psalm 46:5