A different light

It seems as though my life has changed a lot in the last few months. Truth be told, its a little refreshing. In September, due to circumstances that we didn't understand, we lost our house. It wasn't our fault, yet errors were definitely made on our part. Daniel would go to work everyday, and his paychecks, as they were, would keep food on our table (where ever we needed up that night) and a roof over the heads of our babies...who needed us to be strong, even though we felt like we were at the end of our rope. We turned to a few different places and people, with no real luck...and no real idea what we would do. We felt lost and useless and frustrated. We talked about things we didn't want to think about and discussed all of our options...even though we didn't want to. We spent our nights where we could, and our days walking the malls.....doing anything to keep out of the hot car. We were....destroyed. several months pregnant with the child that daniel and I had longed for..finally healthy...we began to wonder what we were going to do....how would we ever get out of this hole?? Our lives changed pretty drastically in a minute, tho. One night, in particular, when daniel and I had spent the day trying to figure out where we`d go next....after having scraped together all the money we had....we had just about given up. I get this message on Facebook that was the LAST thing I expected. My Aunt Emily, (my dads sister) who I really didn't know very well and had only ever seen a few times, had offered her home to me and my family. Offered me a job, a place to lay my head, and family to help me through this difficult pregnancy. She didn't lecture me about how we got here, she didn't make me feel like I was failing my children, she said in a few short words "we`ve all been there, and we`re going to get you back on your feet." I could try for ages and not be able to express my gratitude to her for taking a leap of faith, helping us and doing what she never really had to. Each day, I go to work, at a job that I truly love and am really good at. I come home to my HUGE family, where were never alone, and I love that. I learned a lot about who I can and cant trust and who will really and truly have my back. The truth is, I found help, and a life and a home in a place where I never thought I would. I found comfort and protection in a place I never would have thought to look. Thanks to my Aunt and Uncle, my kids had a Halloween. They had a family thanksgiving, and there will be presents under the Christmas tree. They have warm clothes, and new toys and friends. I'm SO grateful for this life that I've found... that has been given to me....and I'm hoping someday to be able to repay them...and show them true gratitude for the impact they've had on my life. It can truly only go up from here. For this blog pot, this evening...when my mind is racing, I send a heartfelt thank you to my Aunt Emily and Uncle Jason for everything they've done and continue to do for us everyday. To my cousin Brittany, who babysits my little chubbs so that i have the freedom and peace of mind to go to work each day. Who listens to my stresses and doesnt judge me. Who always has snacks and ice when my baby belly requires it. I'm lucky to have such amazing family in my life, and I know that. I'll never take it for granted.

One month

Can it already be that time again? Am I really sitting here staring at her tiny stocking thinking again that she should be here? Imagining her soft skin, her tiny curls, little bows in her hair...and that little Christmas dress. That beautiful baby girl whose laughter should be ringing in my ears this holiday season....but it's not. And it won't be. Ever. Remembering that sucks. As if that wasn't crappy enough all on its own, December means that next month is her birthday, and my darling, angel baby girl will be 2 years old. Its hard to believe that its been that long when many days I find myself still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she's actually gone. I've been putting a lot of thought this year into how I want to celebrate my little girl's birthday and I keep coming up short. The only thing that really stands out in my mind is that I want her to have somewhere. Ever since I did a little research, I realized I could have had her buried...and a gravestone is something I so badly want for her. I want somewhere to go when missing her gets to be just a little too overwhelming. I want somewhere I can run to when I need her too badly. I want somewhere beautiful where I can take her flowers, and decorate on holidays, and bring her cupcakes on her birthday. I want her to have something more than balloons and a memory. I need that. I've had her on my mind nearly non stop this month...there's just so much to miss.
Little Owen kicking and moving in my belly is bittersweet. It makes me so happy and so grateful that he's here and that he's OK...on the other hand, his kicks remind me of the way she used to kick me, the way she used to play with her daddy...the feeling I used to have just knowing she was there. Sometimes I find it hard to separate the two. I wonder if that's a normal thing. Since I lost Bella, a few of my friends have joined me in our silent ranks, in the pain that only a grieving mother or father can know. It feels different to now have people who I can really share this experience with. People who can really say "yea I get that." And they're close to me...and they are not just words....they really do get it. And so we talk, and we remember...and we know that everyday is a battle but we fight it. Its nice to no longer be fighting alone.
Christmas is a hard time of year for me. It reminds me of all I don't have...and all I can't have. But it also reminds me of all my blessings. Family, my beautiful children, my husband...all those things that make it worth it when I have to get out of bed each morning and face a world that doesn't have her in it. Yes, there's much to rejoice in this year, and every year after. She's not with us in body, but we have an ever present, very real angel to adorn the top of our tree...and that's pretty special.

Bella, Baby G, Owen, and Hope.

Pregnancy Week 22. I've been waiting for this week, this post for awhile now. A lot of thoughts, and emotions have been poured into it, I've been working on it...in pieces for weeks now. Week 22 is bittersweet for me, it's hard. Here's the thing about losing a child. Once it happens, the "what if's" never really go away. So...here we are, smack dab in the middle of a (for the most part) healthy pregnancy, with a baby boy who, every single week proves to me how strong, determined, and permanent he is. And yet....so did she. All throughout our pregnancy with Bella, it never occurred to me that something could go wrong...until it did. And now, it's hard for me to imagine that a pregnancy CAN go ok, that things WILL be fine, and that we WILL hold our son...crying screaming and BREATHING.
         I saw the doctor yesterday, and they used the doppler to listen to his little heartbeat. Believe me when i tell you that his heartbeat is a sound I will NEVER get tired of listening to. There were a LOT of things about this appointment that were hard for me. Firstly, we're rapidly entering the point of the pregnancy where things went badly for my only daughter. Secondly, we've officially crossed into the difference between a miscarriage and a stillbirth which means, that's right, our little Owen is a person. (Not that we didn't always see him that way, just as far as legalities go.) Thirdly, they took me into the same little room they had me in right AFTER they told me that Baby G was gone. This little room, to me, signifies all things bad in pregnancy. Don't put me in that room anymore. Don't remind me of all the bad...I'm reminded of that everyday. Remind me of the good. Of the positive. Of what WILL be, of what SHOULD be...not of what wasn't, and what can never be.  
        So this week, will be a challenge for me. It will be full of trying to be optimistic, trying to focus on the good things. All the while, I'll be counting every kick, freaking over every ache and pain, tripping over anything out of the ordinary, and generally getting myself all worked up for what is likely NOTHING. Here are the facts. There's literally a .4 percent chance that the same thing that happened to Bella would happen to Owen. This chance is lessened dramatically by the fact that there is no exidence of placenta previa with this pregnancy. In fact, my placenta is as far away from my cervix as it's possible to be at this point in the pregnancy. That's GREAT news...and it means that what happened to Bella pretty much CAN'T happen again. And yet here I am....a week and a half from that point...around nearly the same time in the year that we got the news about Bella's and my condition. Needless to say, I'm freaking out. Every appointment has me on edge, waiting for the bad news...waiting for the shoe to drop....and then breathing the sigh of relief when, this week, we found his heartbeat, it's strong, he's still kicking, and i DON'T have to say goodbye to him. Yet. 
        Is it possible that God has decided we're ready for him? That Daniel may finally be blessed with the child he's always wanted, and that I may have done enough suffering...that my losses have been enough? Is it possible that this is really happening? That we'll get to hold him and touch him, and kiss him? That we'll watch him grow?  That years from now, I'll be watching him graduate preschool and start kindergarten? Is that really in the cards for us? Is Owen to be our rainbow baby? You can see I have a busy, busy brain. 
         So this week, I ask for prayers. I ask for love, support and understanding as I worry, fret, and freak needlessly. I ask you to understand, although I know many of you truly can't. I ask you to know that I don't try to be a downer, i don't TRY to look for the negatives...I just pray. Everyday I'm grateful for everything that Owen is, and everything I'm SURE he'll be...as soon as I get past everything that isn't, wasn't, and can't be. If you understand, tell me that, share your story, sympathize with me. If you don't understand, but you want to...ask. Nothing helps more than talking about her...about him, about it all. 
           Today, Tomorrow, And Yesterday.....we choose Hope. We remember. We keep moving forward, bringing the past with us, rather than living in it. We choose faith. We love, we lose, and we learn to live again. Every single day.     

Day 31: Sunset

Day Thirty-One: Sunset

Every morning, the sun comes up. Every night...it goes down. It brings a new day, and it ends that day. There are hard times, there are easy times....it's an adventure, it's life. The sunset reminds us that although we have struggled and dealt with trials, tribulations and pain...tomorrow is a new day. A chance to erase and start over. We are made stronger, and hopefully better by what they day has brought us, yet we have the chance to start each day again. It's a clean slate. In this picture, The clouds come together like chalk on a used chalk board. Erasing the problems, statistics, and issues of the day and readying tomorrow for what is new. As a grieving parent, that's all we have. All we can do. End each day, and begin a new one. So here's to that.

 

Day 30: Your Grief: Tell The World

Day Thirty: Your Grief: Tell The World

I'm going to let this picture speak for itself. These are both of my angel babies. Two reminders of why the world isn't perfect...and two reminders of why it's still beautiful. You can see, easily, the hurt...the feeling, the emotion. I don't need to explain it. I share my grief with all of you, regularly. Everyday. I don't hide it, I never will. It's how we raise awareness, how we share with others. How i keep them alive. It hurts, it's raw, but it's what is. No matter how hard that is.

 

Day 29: Music

Day Twenty-Nine: Music

This song still chokes me up....and takes me right back to that day. Makes me think of her...of holding her, of everything i didn't get to do. It brings tears to my eyes, and a pain in my heart...yet...it makes me remember. And you'll catch me listening to it often. If you do, You'll know she's on my mind....and that maybe you should hold me. A hand on my shoulder, a hug. If you hear me playing this song, I'm a mother missing her daughter....empty arms longing for something to hold. Be that something.

Day 28: Memory

Day Twenty-Eight: Memory

I posted this picture for one of the earlier days this month, but it's the memory of her that follows me everywhere. Anytime i see or smell strawberries, i think of her. Anytime i have cream cheese for anything, i think of her. I always think of her, and this particular thing....always owns me. Always takes me back. 

Day 27: Artwork

Day Twenty-Seven: Artwork

This is probably the closest to artwork I'm going to get. I built her shadow box from scratch, picked the outfit and then added the flowers, butterflies and other embellishments. It was a labor of love, and I'm still proud of it.

Day 26:Their Age

Day Twenty-Six: Their Age

This month, on the 13th, my baby girl will be 22 months old. It's almost her second birthday and I can't believe it. It seems so unreal to me that it's already been almost 2 years since we lost her, and it still feels like it was just yesterday. It's funny because since losing her, I've connected with women who lost their children 5, 10, 20 years ago...and the pain is still just as raw. It makes me wonder if it will ever truly get any better. I have to think not. You just learn to cope...you have to.

 

Day 25: Baby Shower/Blessing

Day Twenty-Five: Baby Shower/Blessing

We didn't get to have a baby shower for Bella...as she passed away before it's traditional to have one. We didn't have her blessed, which i absolutely regret...but as i mentioned before....we were uninformed. This memorial is how we honored her. It's all we have. It's all we'll ever have. It's not enough, but it'll have to do.

 

Day 23: Her Name/Her Picture

Day Twenty-Three: Her Name/Her Picture

How fitting that this post would come on my birthday. Obviously, it didn't get done on my birthday, however, i find it magical that THIS was the post meant for my birthday. There's nothing to say about these pictures, they absolutely speak for themselves. My daughter. The beautiful, perfect, amazing individual that she was, that she continues to be. Gracing the heavens with her presence, waiting to meet me again.

Day 22: Place of Care/Birth

Day Twenty Two: Place of Care/Birth

This is the hospital where it happened. The care was fine. The staff was...adequate. There's not much to say about this place. Not much that I remember, not much that I care to. Knowing what I know now..I wish i'd done more. I wish I'd said more...I wish I'd spoken up. Those are just wishes now.

Day 21: Altar/Sacred Space

Day Twenty-One: Altar/Sacred Space

This is the closest I imagine I'll get to an "altar" or "sacred space". It's my spot for her. There's really nothing else I can say about this photo...or this place that hasn't already been said...so we'll leave it as it lie.

 

Day 20: Charity/Organization

Day Twenty: Charity/Organization

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep. The organization that I can easily say has had the biggest impact on my life since I lost my baby girl. When we had Bella, we took literally NO pictures of her. We were conflicted about doing it tastefully, afraid of the way we would remember her if we had them. We were very....uneducated...for lack of a better word, about the services and charities that were out there for parents experiencing this type of loss. It wasn't until AFTER her death, after we'd made funeral arrangements, and begun to try to move on that we found out about this---this service that could have been ours if only we'd known about it. Beautiful, amazing, tasteful pictures of our daughter...and opportunity that we will, unfortunately NEVER get back. Since then, and after the opening of our bakery, we actively raise awareness about this service, this organization that provides FREE infant remembrance photography to parents just like us. We tell people about it who might not know, and we donate to it, from our bakery...in an effort to allow them to help MORE people who might need it. People just like us. There's only so much one person can do, but as NILMDTS says, constantly, "There is no foot too small that it can not leave an imprint on this world." And that's true. We may not change the world, but if we're lucky, we'll change it for someone.

 

Day 19: A Project

Day Nineteen: A Project

This is my best interpretation of a project I've done regarding my daughter. Suffice it to say that it's easier to avoid such things. There are lots of ways I remember her, lots of things I do. My first endeavor was to open my bakery, Bells Custom Cakes. I've been doing that off and on since April of 2011, just after she died, and I love what it is. As with any new thing, I'd love for it to become more, but I'm comfortable with where we're at. I did something for my life that I KNOW she would have wanted for me, and now I get to do it in such a way that I know I'll always love what I do...rather than in such a way that it becomes a job, something that I resent. This project is much more personal, as it has forced me to think about her, what she meant, what she continues to mean, and how very much she affected me. In the interest of full disclosure...it's much harder than I expected it to be.

 

Day 18: A Family Portrait

Day Eighteen: A Family Portrait

Our family portrait doesn't have our baby girl in it, which is something I regret. We always said when we did our family portraits that we'd include our Bella puppy...and we were so worried about the boys, and making sure the pictures came out the way we wanted them to that we didn't really think too much about it. My hope is that we will take maternity pictures with the boys and Bella's puppy in them...including all of our babies in one shot. I plan, in future pictures, to always include a piece of our daughter, however small, because family pictures just don't feel complete without her in them.

Day 17: Anniversary/Birthday/Due Date

Day Seventeen: Anniversary/Birthday/Due Date

Refrigerator magnets to send a message to our baby girl.

This is probably as close to a candid of me as it gets. Sitting in the yard, holding my Bella bear (Bella's Birthday Present from Daddy and I) and blowing bubbles to my baby girl. There aren't very many of these of me.

January of 2012 marked both Isabella's first birthday and the first anniversary of her death. We celebrated the way I expect we always will. We bought her a present, bought her balloons, blew her bubbles, and baked her cupcakes.Her cupcakes were covered in Fruity Pebbles, since we always joked that she would have looked like Pebbles with her fire red hair and eyes like her dads. We talked to her, we lit her candle, we cried for her, and we remembered. We'll continue to remember her that way, because that's the only way we know how. That's the way it feels right. And that's what's important to us. Every year, she'll get older, and yet she'll stay the same. And we'll always remember her...the way we knew her....kicks, nudges, big feet, and a tiny tush. Strawberries, Cream cheese, and smiling in her ultrasounds. We'll hold on to that and remember it on January 13 of every year...and every other day when she crosses our minds. Such is the norm for our life now. <3

Day 16: Release

Day Sixteen: Release

It's hard to pinpoint a picture, a feeling, or even a specific moment that symbolizes "release" for me. For me, feeling release was something that I worked so hard towards, something that I wanted so badly that it's hard to say at what point I really felt like I had achieved it. At times, I feel like it was at her memorial. Watching the balloons floating in the sky, towards the Heavens, I felt ready to say goodbye to her. I felt like I could let go. The days, weeks, and months that followed proved to me without a doubt that THAT was not the case. At times, I feel like it was when I found out we were expecting Baby G. I felt ready to accept what had happened, and what that meant for our lives. I found out quickly, after the miscarriage, and all that followed that that ALSO wasn't the time for release. I had a period of time where i felt like i needed to "get right with God". I've never been big on faith. I have it. I believe there's a God, and he's out there, and he's watching...but I don't take much stock in church. When Bella passed, my views changed. I found it a cruel God who would take from me the daughter I'd always wanted. Eventually though, I found clarity, I got right with god, and i eventually thought---again---that I'd found release. Yea, that wasn't true either. There was a time, just before I got pregnant this time, that I told myself "whatever will be, will be." I forgave myself for the mistakes I'd made with Bella, for the mistakes I'd made with Baby G. I thought about the kind of parent I wanted to be for the boys I DO have in this world, and then I thought of how BEST to keep my daughter alive without allowing her death to own me, and who I am. That day, the day I made the time to really figure me out, was the day i believe i really found release. I accept what happened, and what i can not change. I don't like it, but I accept it. I understand what I could have done differently, and what was in the hands of God. I experienced release...i experienced closure...and with that, I am free to love the child i carry fully, and completely. With the guidance from the Lord above, and my angel baby, Bella. It was a long road, but worth every emotional moment in the journey.

 

Day 15: A Wave of Light

Day Fifteen: A Wave of Light

Last year, for October 15th, and also for her birthday, Bella's candle burned. It was a candle that Daniel and I crafted with love, especially for her, that we had lit on her memorial for the very first time. Since then, it has come to represent her, during birthdays, holidays, and other important events. It's our way of keeping her close to us. This year, her candle, urn, and other momentos are put away, somewhere safe, during our transition and move. Because of that, I felt SUPER far away from her. I felt as though we were millions of years apart, and I couldn't be close to her, no matter how I tried. However, we were not about to forget to participate in October 15th, and acknowledge her with a wave of light. On that night, her daddy, me, and Emily sat on the front porch and burned lighters for her. Even though it wasn't traditional, it was for her, and it was a way of remembering her, quietly...and letting her know we still love her.

 

Day 14: Community

Day Fourteen: Community

When I think of "community" in regards to Isabella, I think of STILL Project. I've blogged about them, and in all honesty, I could go on and on for days and days about all the incredible, life changing things they're working on accomplishing. Instead, I'll link to their website and facebook pages here, and you can check them out for yourself. No such thing as a more tight knit group of people, all about the same cause, and all talking about our angel babies. It's amazing.

www.stillproject.org
https://www.facebook.com/StillProject

Check it out!

 

Day 13: Signs

Day 13: Signs

 

The butterfly is a pretty universal sign of something from "beyond the grave" so they say. Anytime you see a butterfly, you think that it's a message, a silent "I'm here." from whichever person you've lost. Bella likes to make her appearance that way sometimes, but usually...it's in smaller, more subtle ways. Tiny little reminders that she's with us everyday. It's the way she comes to me in my dreams. It's the way she makes something happen...when we're at our lowest. It's the smile that comes to my face brought on by a memory of her...when i feel  like i have nothing else. It's that special place that makes me feel close to her. It's that familiar smell. Those are all the signs that she's close to me...even though she's so very far away. The signs are all around us, the reminders. You just have to know where to look.

Day 12: Scents

Day Twelve: Scents

The smell of strawberries and ANYTHING will always remind me of Bella. Strawberries were the ONLY thing I ever wanted when I was pregnant with her. I swear throughout my pregnancy I had to have consumed 20 or so pounds of strawberries and cream cheese. It was amazing....and she craved it like nobody's business. These days, the smell of strawberries takes me back there. I remember feeling her kicks while i'd eat it, and laughing thinking that i had her on some kind of sugar high. It reminds me of heading to bed with a full belly of our favorite snack and feeling her playing with daddy....he'd tap on my tummy, and she'd kick back. It makes me miss those days. It makes me miss her.

 

Day 11: Supportive Friends/Family

Day 11: Supportive Friends/Family

This one is impossible! There would be no way  I could picture everyone who took part in the outpouring of support following Bella's death. Daniel and I didn't handle her situation very well, and I can see that now. When we found out I was pregnant with her, we told literally no one. They made it clear to us from the start that it was going to be a complicated pregnancy, and the father along we got, the less likely it seemed that we'd hold her in our arms. Because of that, we kept waiting and kept waiting for to see a Dr who would say something different. A Dr who would say "Sure, tell everyone. You absolutely will take her home, and you WON'T have to explain to hundreds of people what happened to your daughter.". THAT was the painful thing we were trying to avoid. However, we could never have imagined how far along in the pregnancy that we'd lose her, how hard it would hit us, how changed our lives would be, and how much it would rock our world. It didn't occur to us that we'd have to have that conversation at some point anyway. And so- We told no one. And then, all of the sudden, she was gone. And we had to grieve for her. We had to talk about her, we had to. So we posted on Facebook about our loss, we wrote letters to our daughter. We posted pictures of her sonograms. Literally everyone important in our lives met our daughter and learned of her....the day we said goodbye. I have a lot of regrets about that in a way...but in another way, it let us grieve her without having to talk about it a ton. Having said that...there weren't many people who DIDN'T offer a kind word, a supportive gesture when they felt the time was right. My dad, my mom, Daniel's parents and grandparents. My momma Gina. Renae and Paulina, Jessica, Nikki, Jerri, Felicia, Rhetta, Britt and Auntie Shelly. There are just so many people, that I KNOW for a fact that I'm going to miss a bunch of them. There are a few people though, especially those mentioned above who stood out in my mind, and still do. These are the people in my life who STILL talk about her. Who still ask me how I'm doing with the whole thing. Who still mention my loss, and aren't afraid to talk about it. Who still say her name.  People who constantly check on the progression of my new pregnancy...both physically and emotionally---knowing that (even if not through experience) I must spend the better part of my time just wondering when the bad news will come. And I do that. A few people...they get that. And they still support me. And a bunch I know I've mentioned...and a few I'm sure I've missed. These posts are so hard emotionally, that I spend pretty much the whole time I'm writing them crying, and the whole time I'm posting them. So anyone I've missed, please forgive me...and know that i DO know who you are....and I appreciate you. To those of you who supported me, and continue to---you don't know how important you are to everyday of my life. Without you to turn to, to talk to, to cry with....i'd never have made it through this...and i couldn't continue to make it. For those of you who WILL support me. Those who i hope to someday change with my story---those who will unfortunately become that 1 in 4...I'll be waiting. And we'll make it through each day together. I don't have to look hard to see how truly blessed I am. I know I have a support system that doesn't leave much to be desired. You're all amazing, and from the bottom of our hearts....Daniel and I thank you.

Day 10: A Symbol

Day 10: A Symbol

This symbol surrounds my life. One in Four women will be "the face". One in Four women will lose their child. This symbol is a reminder that I am the face, I am that one in four. The pink symbolizes that my loss was a daughter. Every year in October, I set this as my profile photo on Facebook...to tell others that I am the face. It's something that it's impossible not to know about me. I talk about her all the time...I mention her all the time, I don't let myself forget...thus...others don't likely forget either. To me...this symbol represents everything that we go through as parents who have experienced a loss. It's raw. And it sucks. Everyday, I am that one in four. And there's nothing i can do about it.

Day 9: Special Place

Day Nine: Special Place

This is the only "place" for Bella that I have. In my house, wherever I live, There will always be a wall....a place with all of her things where I can go to talk to her, think of her, and remember her. It's full of her things...it's very much her place. I go there when I'm tired...or lonely. I sit there when i think of her...and when i cry. Someday i'd hope to have a gravestone for her...somewhere to celebrate her birthdays and angelversaries, and all those other important days. For now though, this will have to do.

 

Day 8: Jewelry

Day Eight: Jewelry

The only piece of jewelery I really have regarding Bella is a pin that Momma Gina bought me, and one my Cousin Jerri bought me. They're symbolic of the loss, and what they meant to us...and that she's always with us. 

Day 7: What To Say

Day Seven: What To Say

 

 

 

One thing that not nearly enough people said to me was simply "I'm here." I'm here if you need to talk, if you need anything....I'm here. People didn't want to talk about her, people didn't want to think about her....most people just wanted to pretend it never happened...it's easier that way. At least for them. For me though, it was painful...and all i wanted was someone....ANYONE to let me talk about her. To just listen. To want to.

Day 6: What Not To Say

Day Six: What Not To Say

There are a million things, being the mother of an angel baby that I would NEVER say to a grieving parent. But honestly, looking back on a time before that, it never would have occurred to me why those things were so bad. They seem like the most comforting things to say, the things that make the most sense, and yet it's often THOSE things that hurt the worse when we're grieving. I heard a lot of "reassuring" words right after my loss. And I mean, a LOT. But this one in particular drove me nuts. It still does. The fact is, regardless what our situation was when I was pregnant. Whether we had tons of money or none, whether we had everything or nothing, the death of a child is NEVER "for the best." Stop saying that. We hate it. How could ANY place, Heaven included, be better than in our arms, with us, where they belong...where they're meant to be?

Day 5: A Memorial

Day Five: A Memorial

This pretty much sums up Bella's memorial service. Daniel and I created her shadow box...which was to be full of the things we wanted her to have...but would never get to buy. It had flowers....to remind us of the bloom of love she was...there were butterflies, to remind us that anytime we see one, she's there. The outfit, shoes, socks, and pacifier in her box were a labor of love. We went into Babies R' Us, fully aware of what we were there to do...and yet---we couldn't help looking around us at all of the things that we SHOULD have had months longer to buy. We settled on an outfit that we thought would have been something we'd want to take her home in, some cute little sandals, lacy socks, and a pacifier with "Isabella" on it. $80.00 later, our hearts were broken, but our box could come together, and baby girl would be dressed. Everything was made from scratch. The programs from her memorial were made by me, written by Daniel, and we just had them printed at Fed Ex. Keepsake bookmarks were also made by me, and were more for Daniel and I than anyone else. We bought her Urn from Hobby Lobby, and to this day, I find it to be perfect for her. The ceremony was short and sweet, and full of meaning. Daniel's mom spoke, Daniel spoke, the Reverend spoke, and Renae sang. It was beautiful. Gina and Jason lit their candles, and together lit Bella's memorial candle...(which we also hand-made)...and then we all went outside to release our balloons in memory of her. It's something we still do. That day defined me. Who i was as a person...who i'd be...where i'd go from there. In a lot of ways...it still does.

 

Day 4: A Treasured Item

Day 4: A Treasured Item

This snow globe was the first thing Daniel and I bought after Bella died. It's easily the most important material thing to come out of this experience. It plays "The Lord is My Shepherd" and is engraved with:

Isabella Ann Marie Gilman

"Bella"

Born Sleeping January 13, 2011

"Too Beautiful For Earth."

I wound that music box and listened to it play every night before bed. Daniel and I would mute the TV, make sure all was quiet in the world, and just take the time to "spend time" with our baby girl the only way we really knew how. Some months later, while the boys were "spending time" with Bella (something they knew they weren't supposed to do), Logan threw it against the wall, and it shattered. Every bit of me felt like I lost her all over again. It was....an unrealistic feeling. The water from the globe soaked the floor, the stars and glitter that filled it littered the carpet, and shards of glass were everywhere. I fell to my knees, screaming...and spent the next 1 or 2 picking up those stars one at a time and holding on to them...as if i were holding on to a piece of myself. We cleaned up the mess, and put up the snow globe. No more could i hold it, listen to it's music...use it as a way to feel close to her....and i hated that. Eventually we'll replace it, but for right now, it's up on her shelf...nothing more than a memory.

 

Day 3: Self Portrait After The Loss

Day Three: Self Portrait After The Loss

I'm torn over which picture to use for this post, so I'm going to use two. The one above is me, just days after saying goodbye to my baby girl. In fact, I think this was the day after I left the hospital. It was my Dad's retirement ceremony, and I'd promised I'd be there...and so I was. I remember the difficulty I had putting on a brave face...and smiling..when all i really wanted to do was cry. Definitely didn't feel like celebrating, when I had just lost something so important to me. Several weeks later, the picture below was taken.


This was Daniel and I the day we officially said goodbye to Bella. We'd been prepping and prompting, and preparing ourselves for her memorial service...telling ourselves it would be the closure that we needed. In truth though, it didn't make much of a difference. Things were much the same. The only thing different was that we were changed. No longer were we concerned with trivial things...and we often carried the attitude "It could always be worse....at least we're together." We often keep that attitude now. Losing Bella taught us one important thing...something I don't think we'd have truly learned without her. It taught us how much we needed each other...and the importance of another shoulder. Of sharing our feelings, of just...being together. When times are hard now, we remember what she taught us...whenever we're hurting...whenever it's hard....at least we're together. Losing Bella forced us to look at the world differently. It forced us to see the bad in something so good. It taught us that pregnancy isn't always a peaceful, beautiful journey. Sometimes it's painful...and sometimes it hurts. It taught us about death. In a way that we'd never been acquainted with it before. It taught us that it's ok to cry. It taught us that it's ok to remember. It taught us that we were different...and that we always would be. It taught us that only few people would ever understand...and most people won't ever talk about it. And THAT taught us that we HAVE to talk about it. Moving on without Bella has been difficult, and each journey following it has been bittersweet. While rejoicing that she was and thinking of everything she could have been, we are forced to remember that she's not. She never will be...and each day, week, month, and year of our lives will go by without her. Her brothers will never know her...not really...and neither will we. No longer full of hope....no, we were changed.

 

Day 2: Self Portrait Before The Loss

 Day Two: Self Portrait Before The Loss

Looking back on this picture, I have no idea who this person is anymore. In this picture, I was getting ready for a date with my hubby. I was several months pregnant with Bella, and never imagined that that pregnancy would end in a memorial. I also never had an any idea how much that pregnancy, that experience would change my life. There's not much to say about this picture, this day. I was full of expectations, life, and happiness. Our situation was hard then, but we were in love, had two great boys, and were finally expecting our daughter. What really could have been better than that? We certainly were naive about the many things that could go wrong in a pregnancy. With two pregnancies so healthy before this one....we didn't  have any reason to think Bella's would be any different. How wrong we were.

Day 1: A Sunrise

Day One: Sunrise

It's powerful what a sunrise can do. It can make you take pause, think about the day before you...and just how lucky you are to have seen it come. It came make you think of the wonder of the world...how such beauty can happen and change before our eyes. However...for moms and dads all over the world, a sunrise is the start of the day that their child will die. A sunrise is a symbol of the beginning of the day when they'll carry that casket to the cemetery, and bury it beneath the cool, wet, earth. It's symbolic of everything that we hate about the world, and the remembrance of the last thing we saw that was beautiful before we stopped paying attention. Since I lost Bella...i can't remember the last time i looked at the sky...amazed at what was before me. Entranced by the beauty of the world, captivated by the stars in the sky. Instead...I lost sight of what was beautiful about the world, and focused on the ugly. The ugly truth that means that people get cancer, accidents happen, and yes...innocent babies die. This month is about overcoming that ugly truth...and getting back to the beautiful. Remembering the sunrise again.

Time Is Love.

"I know i gotta put in the hours, make the money while the sunlight shines
but anything i gotta get done, it can get done some other time.

Time is love, gotta run, love to hang longer, but i got someone who waits,
waits for me and right now, he's where i need to be, time is love, gotta run.

I only get so many minutes, don't wanna spend 'em all on the clock
in the time that we spent talkin', how many kisses have i lost?"






This song reads like a song intended to be about a man and a woman. So in love, that really, all they want to do is be together. When I listen to this song, I hear those things. But I also think of my children.  The fact is, when it comes to children, Time IS love. And children do a lot of waiting. Waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for kisses, waiting for their turn to play, waiting for me to tuck them in. It's easy in the hustle and bustle of everyday life to forget how much they need me. It's easy to find something else that's more important than taking that five minutes to read them a story. But then...I stop and think to myself...how long have they waited for that?

Those of us who get to fall asleep in the next room from our children every night are the lucky ones. Our opportunities are much more abundant to make the time. We're the one that are required to make time for snuggles, race cars, playing baby, and watching "Toy Story 3" for the 2898293840239482037423th time. We're charged with wiping snotty noses, and holding the throw-up buckets. We hold them close when they're scared, we wipe their tears when they're sad. We nurse them back to health, and we watch them get sick again. We're the entertainment committee, the teachers, the nurses, the chefs, the librarians, the taxi drivers, the playmates, and the friends. We're the parents. It's for this reason, that making the time is SO important for the other half of the parenting team...the half that isn't there.

It's for those reasons that they MUST understand how important promises are, and how much breaking them can hurt. It's important that they realize how significant a phone call is, even if the attention span is only seconds long. Time IS love, and just a few minutes goes a long way. Checking in a sick child from a distance. Sending a letter with love for a special day, or just because. Taking the time to get to know their child...the best they can from where they are. Understanding that that baby WAITS. Even when they don't realize it, they have someone who waits for them. Someone who wants them. Realizing how powerful that is...and how much it can hurt if it's abused.

Being a working parent can be hard. I don't do it now, which I'm thankful for, but in the years following Jason's birth, I was active duty military, and this is a 5 year old boy that knows all about waiting...and knows better than most that time is love. Josh Turner never sang more true words, because no relationship, whether it be between a man and a woman, two friends, a parent and their child, or siblings will thrive without time. Love will always remain, because I don't think it's possible to "un-love" someone....but effort, time, and interest are necessary ingredients in all great relationships. It doesn't always have to be large amounts of time, it has to be the effort to be there, the interest to keep them from waiting.

I don't believe in "too busy". I don't believe in "too stressed". I believe that Time Is Love. And without time, you ruin love. You destroy feelings that are strong and precious and pure. And once the damage is done, you can't recover from it. The trick, I imagine...is understanding that.

Let them be little.

I watched my baby grow up a little today. He took at step from being a "toddler" or a "preschooler" to being a "school ager", and he's so excited about it that it should probably be a crime. I'll say, to my credit, that I maintained my composure throughout the day, trying to focus on making it a day that was special and fun for him, and not on the fact that we were celebrating things that end an era of sorts. We spent the day prepping food for his party, and then it was time to get him ready. When we were done, I could look at him and say with some certainty, that he sure was a big boy. It's terrible to look at your child and no longer see the baby in them. What used to be chubby little cheeks have been replaced with a mischievous little smile.  Arms that used to reach out to hold me, are now pushing me away. Legs that were just learning to hold his weight are now carrying him away from me, faster than I imagined. But boy did he look handsome. We went to his graduation, where they did their very best to make us weepy parents cry. And of course, a tear or two rolled down my cheek. How can my first born already be graduating things?! It's crazy to think of how far he's come, how smart he is, what potential he has, and all there is yet to be accomplished. He spent some time with his old friends, and watching him socialize, i realized that although I'd like to keep him a baby forever, he's very much his own little person. I can't help but take credit for that, knowing that for whatever he is, i created it. To a certain extent, at least. He sat there, next to his best friend Alex, and talked to her about all the "cool" things he's been doing since he hasn't had to be in school. He was having so much fun.

We took him back home and had his party for him, where he got presents, a hat's off to the grad, and cake. He was so excited all day that today was "all about him" and how special and smart and amazing he was. I watched him in awe all day, at the ceremony, and even at the BBQ. It's funny how while things like this affect us as parents so profoundly (we cry, take pictures, take video), it doesn't affect them all that much. They take part in another event, smile for another set of pictures, and feel as though they're doing the same thing they've always done. And truly, they are. He had a blast though, tickled that the focus was on him, especially when he got his very own cake and it wasn't even his birthday.

After I tucked him into bed, I climbed in bed myself and began to reflect upon the day. I'll say, I carried myself well all day until this moment. My baby was growing up, faster than i was ready for. I thought for a few minutes about the things he'd been through, even for his tiny age, and the things we'd overcome together, he and I. I realized that as much as he's growing up, he's still very much a little guy. He still depends on me to protect him, to care for him, to kiss him, and hug him, and love him. He still needs me every bit as much as i need him. As I held him close, and told him I was proud of him, and i loved him, he leaned in to me and said "I'm proud of you too." For all I've done in my life, and heard said about me, that was all the validation I needed. True enough, he might not understand what he was saying, but I give my baby more credit than that. I'd like to think he was trying to tell me I'd done ok. And that we'd be alright. I decided right then that while he's starting Kindergarten, I'm not quite ready to let go. I'm not quite ready to give up the kisses, and snuggles, and loves. Instead of thinking about how big he is, how big he's going to be, and where he's headed in life, I'm going to take his little hand, and enjoy the adventure. I've got to make time for playing, and stories, and the park, and being his mommy. Everything else can wait...babies, they don't keep. They grow, they change, they mature. Let them be little, because they're only that way for awhile. When he puts his little head on my shoulder i remember...although he's growing up, he's still young enough to need me...and that's good because I still need him too.

A moment in time....

It's interesting how important a moment can be. Not just in the sense that several moments pasted together create a memory, but in a more broken down sense. A moment can define you. It can spell out the content of your character as easily as if you'd be working on it your whole life. It can build you up. A single shining moment can tell people that you are someone to be trusted, relied upon, supported. It can also have the opposite effect. It can tell people that you are not worthy...of their time, their effort, their emotion. Moments are monumental. 

Going through everyday life though, you really don't think of it in those terms. You look back on memories, a cluster of moments that changed your life...but you rarely, before making those moments, consider how they're going to effect the overall direction your life is headed in. That's a pretty scary thing. You never really know where you're going until you've already made the decisions that are going to take you there...those moments. And...if they're the wrong ones, how do you recover from that? 

I guess the trick is to learn to change your way of thinking. Instead of the big picture, look at the smaller one. See the end result, but pay attention to how you're getting there. Making circles and standing still confused for hours before getting there will still get you there, but will leave frustration in your wake. Analyzing the situation, evaluating your moves, and making them without hesitation gets you there faster, with more progress. Which would you rather be? Do you want to be the person that wakes up in 10 years and says "how did i get here" or "this is not the life i wanted", or the person who wakes up in 10 years and says "I got myself here" or "I made my dreams come true"? 

Life can change in a second. An instant. A moment. You can be the villain, or you can be the hero. You can be booed off stage, or you can sing your heart out. You can back down, or rise to the occasion. The importance of a moment is choosing to be Somebody. Whoever that somebody is.