When it all became real.

As October progresses, I have found myself thinking back on this time last year, in which I was 8 months pregnant, and coming up on one of the most difficult times in my life.  I remember trying to prepare mentally. I had become so attached to my baby, I loved her so much, and still do. I couldn't imagine giving her to someone else to raise, but I couldn't deny that I knew she didn't belong to me.
I had been speaking to Jared and Amy for months, and I finally told them I wanted to place my baby with them, but wanted to meet them in person first. So they got on an airplane, and came all the way from Idaho, just for a day, to meet me and Sunshine's birthfather, just two weeks before my due date.
We met in the morning at a little breakfast place called "Kozy Kitchen". It was sort of weird at first, I think we were all unsure of how to act. I had been emailing these people for months, I knew so much about them, but suddenly, they were real. And I was going to give my baby to them. We ate, and talked, and I really don't remember about what except our conversation about naming the baby. I told them that it was going to be their baby that they would live with everyday, so they could name her. But they said they didn't want to name her something I hated, because I would have to call her that too. They suggested a name- and could tell I was not a fan of it. Then the birthfather and I suggested the name that we had always liked, and Jared and Amy really liked it too. (Later they remembered that their friends had just named their baby that, so it ended up being her middle name.) Over the weeks, I contemplated the name Jared and Amy suggested, and by the time I had Sunshine, I loved it, and still do until this day. (Sunshine is not her real name, it's just what I call her on my blog because it's public.)
Anyways, after breakfast, we went over to the birthfather's house for them to have some time to get to know Jared and Amy. I'll be honest, this was probably one of the scariest parts of the day for me. While my family was very supportive of any decision I would have made, especially my decision to place, the birthfathers family was not. They weren't LDS and didn't have the same beliefs that were driving my decision. So they struggled with the idea of the adoption. I had been trying to defend the adoption to them throughout my whole pregnancy, but when I look back, it really helped me become stronger in my decision, constantly having someone questioning it. Every time I had to explain why I was doing this crazy thing, it reinforced that it was the right thing too.
Then in the late afternoon, we went back to my house to meet my parents. Jared and Amy clicked with my family immediately. There was just this mutual love for my baby and understanding of God and the gospel that seemed to bring us together. It has been wonderful to see how our families have come together, even after Sunshine's birth. It's like, all these people love this one little girl so very much, and have become like family because of it.
And then, I met Jared and Amy's son.
They had adopted him as an infant also, 3 years earlier. I seriously think he is what sold me on this family. He was the most adorable, wonderful, loving little boy ever, and I just HAD to have him as my baby girl's big brother. I could just imagine them a few years later, when some kid thought it would be funny to pick on Sunshine, and he would step in and make sure nobody touched his sister.
Later in the evening, everyone gathered at my house for hamburgers, and at one point, I was sitting next to Amy on the couch when the baby started kicking. While I was pregnant, it was ridiculously easy to see the baby move inside my stomach. It was visible from across the room, and almost freakish looking. Anyways, I pointed it out to Amy, and she was able to see her future daughter kicking inside my stomach.
Eventually the day had to end, and Jared and Amy and their son had to head back north, so we said our goodbyes. We even took pictures, which are among the very very few that exist of me pregnant (due to the fact that I kept it a secret from much of society, esp social networking sites, until after the adoption). So, I present to all of the birthmother blogging world, a photo of me, huge and 8 1/2 months pregnant! Also pictured is the birthfather on the left, and Jared and Amy and their son in the middle.

 

I look back on that day as a happy one. A stressful, long, emotional day for sure, but a happy one. Things started to fall into place, and the fact that I was placing my baby for adoption became real. I was terrified about what the next few weeks would hold, but I when I laid down to (kind of) sleep that night, I was completely sure that I had found the family that my baby belonged to.

Death.

I woke up this morning feeling kind of nostalgic and sad, and at first I wasn't sure why. Then I realized it was October 3rd, meaning it had been 3 months since Kelton died. It's been a wierd 3 months since he died, and I can't believe its only been 3 months because it feels like he has been gone for forever.

Before Kelton died, I always wondered why people got so upset about family and loved ones dying. I had never known anyone who died, and because I'm LDS, I always just thought, "It's no big deal, you will see them again, it's not like they are gone forever!".  Now I kick myself in the face for my insensitivity, because death is a complicated and frustrating part of life. Kelton's cousin told me he died shortly after it happened. He gave me him number via facebook, and I called and argued with him for five minutes about how him and Kelton needed to stop playing this joke on me, because it wasn't funny. By the time I started to believe him, I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. I couldn't understand how this had happened. Death had always been such a foreign idea to me. And now someone I was so close to had died. Unexpectedly.

One of the scariest parts for me was the randomness of it all. Things had been going really well for me at that point in my life- I had just moved to Provo, I lived near Kelton and Sunshine, I was going to go to BYU in the fall, I was getting all geared up for what I expected to be the time of my life. And then, out of nowhere, a stupid one-car accident, and the car flipped and fell in just the wrong way as to break Keltons neck and leave him dead.

Dead. But at that time, what did "dead" mean to me? I had never seen a dead person in real life. I had never been to a funeral. I had known a few old people who died, at church or a distant relative or something, but those deaths were expected. I had never been emotionally attached to those people or really associated with them for more than a minute or so.

That night, it was odd not having Kelton and I's nightly Skype session or phone call. But I was mostly in shock, and while I was upset, I was mostly scared, because I had no idea what the next few days would hold for me. His dad called me to make sure I had heard what happened and let me know he would update me on funeral stuff whenever he found out. I was terrified at the idea of the funeral. I didn't know what to expect, or who would be there, or how all that worked. Did I really want to go see his dead body?

In spite of all my fears, I made my way up to a city in Idaho where I had never been, and went to his funeral. I had been staying with Kelton's dad and family, and so I was early to the viewing on Friday night. I tried to not think about seeing his body, but I knew I needed to do it. As I walked tword the front of the empty room, I felt all the supressed emotions start to come to the surface, and when I got close enough to see his face, I broke down. That body, that the last time I had seen it was bright and alive, was now dull and lifeless. It didn't look like him, Kelton was so animated and expressive, it couldn't be him. It was shocking, realizing the difference that the spirit makes inside a body. The warm, happy, soft boy that I had joked, cuddled, laughed, and talked with, was laying there, missing the thing that made him Kelton.

So that's what physical death is. Where the body is no longer functioning. I know his spirit is out there, doing whatever it is that God is having his spirit do, and Kelton is just fine. But his physical death has stipulations for those of us still alive. Stipulations such as the fact that we can't communicate anymore, or touch, or do fun things together. And it sucks. People all say things like "Oh he is still looking out for you" or "He is there and you just can't see him", well guess what? It doesn't make it suck any less. It doesn't make it any less confusing for my heart or mind.

Kelton came and left so quickly, but he still left an impression. Sometimes I wonder why God would put someone in my life for such a short time, but then I remember all the lessons I've learned, both from Kelton's life and death. Like that an open-casket funeral is a ridiculous tradition, why the heck does anyone want to look at a dead body? And more seriously, to cherish the times you have with the people you love, because you never know when they'll be gone.

And, for those who don't know, Kelton was a pretty good guitar player. I don't know much about guitar, but I for sure can't play it. Also, the tshirt he is wearing in this video is the one he was wearing when we met. Ironic much?