Your Story Matters

Your Story Matters

Avery's Story Matters

Every baby's story matters. No matter how brief, their story matters. 

They all deserve a voice and we as their parents should be able to say their names, share their stories and talk about them without fear or worry about what others are thinking. Here I am 2 years, 3 months and 10 days since losing my daughter and I still cringe when I have to meet a new person. Not because I have to speak the awful words, "my first daughter died," but because I have NO idea what response will come after I share Avery's story. Will the person brush her off and end the conversation as quickly as possible? Will they genuinely care about her story? Will they try to fill their level of discomfort with some 'profound' statement that causes more harm than healing? It's always a gamble, my heart always on the line. 

But it's a gamble I take and will continue to take because her story matters. And I want to use her story and share her story to break the silence; to help the subject of pregnancy and infant loss no longer be a taboo subject that people run away from. I want to educate people. I want them to know that I am one of many. I am 1:4 and they probably know many others like me. I want to help change the way society responds to that awful phrase "my daughter died." Instead of running away in fear of the conversation, I want people to feel comfortable to say "I am sorry, tell me more about her." And continue the conversation. 

Avery's story didn't turn out the way I planned. Not even close. There was no first day of kindergarten. No college. No successful career where she changes the world through some amazing career. But she is making a difference in this world. 

She changed me. She made me a mom. She has inspired me. She will keep me from staying silent. Together, she and I will help others feel comfortable sharing their own stories. Her story matters. My story matters. Our story matters. Your story matters. And I will continue sharing our story to help break the silence. 

Photo credit: Cathy Hartman, co-leader of the Tears Foundation of Florida, great supporter, friend, and baby loss advocate. Thanks Cathy for the inspiration. 

Intuition

I don't know if I've really shared this with many but I need to get it out. 

The night of June 11th, the night before Avery passed, I had this overwhelming fear that something bad was going to happen. It was time to get ready for bed and she was falling asleep in her bassinet and I just sat there crying uncontrollably. I told my husband how I was so afraid something bad was going to happen to her. I just remember feeling so strongly that something bad was going to happen. I was so worried and full of anxiety. 

He calmed me down. We talked about how it was normal to be nervous. We talked about how we were doing everything we could to help keep her safe and to help her thrive. I chalked up my anxiety to just that; first mom worry. Adding to the anxiety, I told myself I was extra worried because he was going back to work the next morning. I was nervous about my first day alone, worried because she was actually really fussy earlier in the night which we hadn't experienced with her before that point. I wrote off the fussiness as gas because she had finally nursed so good that night that I didn't want to interrupt her to burp. 

That night, I couldn't sleep much. I was up constantly checking on her. At 5 I was absolutely exhausted and finally slept fell asleep for more than 15 minutes. I woke up just an hour later to Eddys alarm clock going off for work and my world falling apart. My fears were realized at that moment. 

Needless to say, this has been something I've struggled with. I feel so guilty for ignoring my instincts. Did I subconsciously know that something wasn't right?  They say always trust your instincts. But when you are a new mom, your nerves are always on edge. There is no user manual with exact, step by step instructions. You can read every book written and still worry insistently. How can you really separate the two? Internally I battle this. If I would have listened to my gut, would Avery still be here? But what would I have been able to do differently? She wasn't sick, she wasn't injured, she was perfect. If I would have called our pediatrician, they would have thought I was crazy.  I know this logically but emotionally it's so hard to separate when that feeling was so strong and my fears actually came to fruition. 

Clearly, now when I feel worried about something, it's hard for me to shake. There is ALWAYS that thought on the forefront of my mind that maybe I'm not just being uber paranoid, maybe it's not just worry, maybe there is ACTUALLY something to worry about. Maybe whatever it is I'm freaking out about is legitimate and I need to do something about it. It's a losing battle because I AM uber paranoid now, everything scares the hell out of me and I am terrified Harper will leave us too. How am I to really know what's paranoia and what's instinct?

This week I've had that awful anxious feeling again. I have that feeling that something is going to happen to Harper. And to be honest, I feel like I am going to explode. I am on edge. I cannot relax unless she is right there in front of me. And it is making it so difficult to let her out of my sight. I don't want to leave her and I cannot stop worrying the whole time I am away from her. It's stomach churning, heart beating out of your chest, years ready to fall in an instant, ready to jump out of your skin, hard core anxiety. 

It's so hard to manage. I have a job, I have other responsibilities and I am sure all this anxiety is just because our routine is different this week (and last) because her normal sitter (my aunt) is out of town. But she is my absolute top priority and I can't help but worry that it's my intuition kicking in again. 

Do I really sense something is wrong? 

Am I just overly cautious now? 

How do you know? 

How will I ever win this battle?

I don't just don't know...

Fears with Parenting After Loss

I understand being a parent is full of fears, but when you've gone through the worse, your world is opened up to the awful realities of all that can and so often does go wrong. My pregnancy after loss, PAL as it's referred to in the loss community, was full of so much more anxiety than I would have thought possible. And having her here finally is an ever changing cycle of fear, anxiety and worry.  Just when I think I've got a handle on my fears with Harper, she changes and we enter into a new phase of her life and in turn more fears.

With my pregnancy, I was so afraid I would miscarry. Every twinge sent me into a panic. Every time I went to the bathroom I was afraid to look, afraid it would all end. I had no spotting with Avery so when it happened with Harper, I just knew I would lose her too. 40 weeks seemed way too much to bear and I knew something that so many don't...there is no magical "safe zone." But slowly, so incredibly slow, the weeks kept passing and thankfully, Harper kept growing. 

As the weeks passed, my miscarriage fears turned into fears that she wouldn't develop as she was supposed to. I was terrified we would be told there was something wrong, something that would take her from us; trisomy 13, anencephaly, triploidy, failure for organs to develop, this list goes on and on. I was anxious as we went in for our 20 week anatomy scan. The thought of the doctor using the god awful phrase "incompatible with life" scared the hell out of me. I actually think I was holding my breath unintentionally through the ultrasound, I got dizzy and lightheaded.  I almost passed out right there on the ultrasound table. But thank God, we were fortunate, her scans looked healthy. Phew... 

The sigh of relief from her scab was short loved however. And my fears then went to stillbirth. I know far too many beautiful mommas who were forced to go through hours of labor only for their sweet baby to enter this world as silently as they left it. Beautiful, perfect babies gone. No warnings, no time to prepare. Futures cut short, worlds turned upside down. 

As soon as she started moving, I did kick counts...constantly. If I didn't feel her moving for even the shortest period of time, I was panicking. I was gobbling down candy to try to wake her up and running for my Doppler to listen for her sweet heart beat. Every day, I lived in fear that she would leave us. And I lived in that fear for the last half of my pregnancy. 

Then the real test of my nerves came, she was here and healthy but I was absolutely, positively, scared to death that something would still happen. After all, we left the hospital once with a healthy baby only to have our world completely turned upside down within days of the doctor saying she was perfect. I was so afraid I would wake up to that same horror again. I would lay awake and watch her sleep, sleep with my hand on her chest, I refuse to sleep unless she has a breathing monitor on and on more than one occasion, as she was sleeping in my arms, I truly thought she stopped breathing. It was absolutely awful. 

As she gets older, her risk of SIDS decreases. Part of me feels I can breathe a little easier and the other part of me thinks statistics are crap. I've already won the unlucky lottery. Avery's risk was almost non existent. She was so young for this to happen, we took all recommended precautions and yet, she's not here. So eve though SIDS risks decrease greatly after 6 months, I still worry. A lot. And now, she's decided to start rolling over in her sleep. She's started wanting to sleep on her stomach. And again, I'm scared. 

I keep wanting to hit the one year mark so quickly. But I realize that I'm always going to have a new worry or fear. As she grows, she will always be at risk for something. There are so many awful things in this world. I'm always going to fear. And being a baby loss mom, my fears are amplified. I know what it's like to hear those awful words, to plan a funeral and to have to live every day missing a huge piece of your heart. 

There is no easy way through these fears. You must face them, live with them and try as much as possible to get passed them. Prayer, education and support from other loss parents and from friends and family is what's helping me get through. I'm realizing that I just have to enjoy and take each day we have with Harper as it comes. 

'The Bag'

I wrote a few months ago how after almost 2 years the police department called for me to come pick up the personal belongings they had left from Avery. Thanks to some great friends, we didn't have to go in ourselves. And all that there was left was a small gift bag-contents unknown to us.  Since the day we picked it up, it had sat at the top of Harper's closet (our house is small and her closet had the most room). 

Today, I decided I would start packing up some items Harper isn't using anymore to take to a consignment shop. In the top of her closet, right next to 'the bag,' were some extra baby towels and washcloths we had never opened. I knew I should have waited for Eddy or even gotten a stool but I was being lazy so I jumped and hit he washcloths so they would fall to the ground. Down they fell. What I didn't expect, and really I'm like 0% athletic so I really should have kno it would go right, was that I also hit 'the bag' and it came flying down as well. 

I froze, afraid to look. Afraid the mysterious contents would have spilled out. Luckily, they hadn't. The bag landed perfectly upright but with the top open. Unluckily leaving the contents on display for me. Now I don't know if I was just shocked or I am just a glutton for punishment but I immediately reached into 'the bag.' I could tell just by looking into the top of 'the bag' what it was. It was a baby hospital blanket. 

My heart leapt. I thought I left the blanket and hat that we had for her when she was born at the hospital. I'm not the type to remember those type of things when I'm ready to take my baby and get home. Even though I said I wouldn't, I forgot Harper's too. The excitement was short lived. 

As I unfolded the neatly folded blanket, it felt odd. It was stiff, not soft like one we would have wrapped her and held her in for hours when she was born. And then I saw them, the stains, and I realized this wasn't a blanket from when she was born. It was the blanket they wrapped her in that awful day in the emergency room. There are small stains of blood that I imagine were when they were trying to start IVs and other lines. 

With this blanket in my hands, I can almost see the scene playing out. I've read the hospital reports, I know what they tried as the desperately tried to save her. And just like that, I'm a fly on the wall in that ER room. I can see it all happening. I'm reliving the nightmare all over again. 

Seriously!?!?

W.

T.

F.

Why, why would they give this back to me? 

I panicked. I immediately folded it up and placed it back in 'the bag' and put it right back at the top of the closet. I forced my memory to stop replaying the scenes from that day. 

This blanket, really? What am I supposed to do with it? I can't throw it away, it's literally the last thing she touched, it's the last thing we saw her wrapped in. But seriously, it's not like that's really a memory I want to pull out of her memory box years down the road. It's not something I want to show Harper and she learns about her big sister. 

This was seriously NOT how I saw my morning going. Not that I should be surprised. Just another day in the life of a grieving SIDS mom.  Just when you think nothing else can get to you...BOOM! 

It's only 9:30 and I am completely ready for this day to end. 

Bleeding Heart

And just like that, we are a week away from Avery's birthday. Her 2nd birthday. Her second birthday spent in Heaven. How is it that's it's been 2 years already? It just doesn't seen possible. 

And with June only a day away now, I'm back in 2012.  Remembering and reliving the last week of my pregnancy. The sweet time I had with Avery in my arms and that awful morning. I'm still in shock that at this time just 2 years ago life seemed so perfect. Little did I know how upside my world would turn in less than 2 weeks. 

These days leading up to her birthday and angelversary are hell. The thin, fragile stitches I've been able to slowly sew over the gaping hole in my heart to keep from completely bleeding out are unraveling. My wounds are splitting open all over again. The pain feels so fresh, so raw like its 2012 all over again. 

I want nothing more than to crawl in bed, cover the windows and spend the next two weeks hiding from the real world and just let the pain have it's way. As crazy as that may sound, it would be so much easier just to wallow in my pain than try to hide it. It's absolutely exhausting to function when your heart is being broken all over again; to put on a smile, to go through the motions of life when all you want to do is hit rewind and go back. 

I know I cannot go back, I can only go forward. I have to let my heart bleed but I also have to keep working to mend the wound so I don't bleed out. Somehow, even through a bleeding heart, I am surviving. Even if these next 2 weeks feel like they will tear me apart, I've learned over the past 2 years, they won't. 

Every day, I miss her. Every day, it hurts. Every day, my heart bleeds. Yet every day, I'm surviving. 

23 Months

23 months since the worse day of my life.

23 months since I held her last.

23 months since she took her last breath, laying there in her bassinet right beside me.

23 months since I rocked her to sleep.

23 months since I awoke to a nightmare.

23 months of learning to breathe without her.

23 months of living with this gaping hole in my heart.

23 months of waking up without her and going to bed without her.

23 months living the life I did not plan.

I cannot believe in one short month, she should be 2. There is not a day that has passed in the last 23 months where I did not miss her with every ounce of my heart.  There is not a day that goes by when I don't think about how much different I thought my life would be today. There is not a day that goes by that my heart doesn't ache for her. 23 months without her, it just doesn't seem possible.

This next month is going to be full of so many emotions. Milestones always are. Part of me wants to hurry up and get past it and the other part of me feels extremely guilty for feeling that way. As if I'm rushing to get past her. Part of me wants to run away and be far away from normal life those days. And then the other part of me feels guilty if we don't celebrate her birthday with friends and family.  All of me however, just wants to make her happy, to make sure she feels loved and to make sure she knows we remember her always.

You would think after 2 years, I would be less confused over how to feel and what to do for these milestones but truthfully, that will never happen. This journey never will  be easy and it will always be confusing because of the love we have for her. One year celebrating may bring us joy and another it may bring us more pain. I will have to take each milestone as it comes. I need to remind myself to go easy on my heart. There is no right or wrong, only what feels the best at that time.

I wish I weren't on this path. I wish, the decision for this milestone was what theme she wanted for her party not how to remember her brief life.  The journey is never ending because my love for her is never ending. And I have to remind myself of that daily.

Easter a reminder that Heaven is for Real

I've always been a procrastinator.  I thought maybe having Harper here would change that a bit--WRONG! I ordered her Easter basket from Etsy over 6 weeks ago but didn't give much thought as to what I would put in the basket. So I decided yesterday, I should probably go get a few things to put in it. But seriously, she's 3 months old, what do you give a baby? Especially one who has so much already!9 As I was browsing Target's baby section, a book in the next section over caught my eye. There, sitting at then end of an aisle, was a big yellow book, just calling my name. Heaven is for Real for Kids was place just right and instantly I knew it was the perfect gift. 

This may seem like an odd book for a baby and she certainly won't understand for a few years but I was so excited for the placement of this book. I wouldn't have sought it out as an Easter present but it was perfect. A book reminding us of all that we have waiting for us because of what Jesus did for us. How fitting for Easter. Thankfully, I had enough sense not to read it until I got home. And oh what I book. 

It's written perfectly for kids to understand that Jesus loves them and what Heaven is like. (SPOILER ALERT). The part that got me the most was when he talks about how he gets to meet his big sister for the first time and how she wouldn't stop hugging him. (Oh, be still my heart). The thought of Avery knowing Harper already is overwhelmingly beautiful. Even though she hasn't met her little sister yet, she knows her and loves her. And one day, one day I pray is many, many, many years away, she will know her when they finally meet. But not only that, it reminds me that she will know us too. 

I always worry that in her six days, she was too small to know us and understand who we are to her. I've always worried she didn't know our love enough. But this book, like the adult version, reminds me that I don't have to worry about that. She will know us and she knows she is loved. 

Some believe that it gets easier as time passes but that isn't true. It just gets different. Last year, I was feeling very empty Easter morning. No baby to make a basket for, no cute dresses to choose from. This Easter, I have all of that with Harper but Avery is still missing and that will never change. Harper is both a distraction and a reminder of all we have and all that is missing. Every holiday we celebrate with Harper helps us to feel like real parents  and we get to start traditions yet every holiday we celebrate reminds us of all the time, milestones, holidays and pictures we are missing out on with Avery. 

Today I am thankful the He is Risen. Today I am reminded that because of Him, one day we will all be together again. And like we are reminded in the book, Heaven is for Real and it's pretty awesome. 

Happy Easter from Harper. 

Back to Work

Monday marks the end of my maternity leave. And I am absolutely dreading it. If you would have asked me my feelings about being a stay at home mom before Avery was born, my response would have been that it's not for me. Prior to June of 2012, I was very much career driven. I would never been able to imagine staying home with my kids all day. I thought I would go stir crazy. At that time, I very much found a lot of my identity in my work. It was part of who I was. 

Going back to work after losing Avery was hard. She gave me a brief glimpse into motherhood. Returning to work after losing her was wrong in so many ways. It wasn't the return I imagined. I was back sooner than planned and on the outside nothing had changed. I got up alone, got ready alone and left the house alone. It was just wrong. She should have been there with me, I should have been stressing about getting both of us ready, I should have been taking a different route to work to drop off at daycare. Mentally, I was checked out. I didn't want to be there. I had no focus, no drive, I was still grieving deeply and beyond exhausted. Over time, I got back into the swing of work. But my heart never fully was back into it. Work no longer held my identity like it had in the past. I was no longer driven mainly by work, it was no longer who I was. Instead I became a mix of career and bereaved mother. 

Now with Harper my mindset has changed so much more. I would give up my career in a second to be a stay at home mom. To be one of those moms who goes to mommy and me groups, to be one of those moms who has time to make my own baby food, to spend all day with Harper-loving her, teaching her and watching her grow. No part of me is ready to go back. I feel so guilty that I'm leaving her. I'm so overwhelmed with anxiety about returning, I've been making myself sick. I. Don't. Want. To. Go. 

Never would I have imagined I would lose my drive for my career. But truth be told, I have. Going back is going to be the hardest thing I've done since we had to say bye to Avery. I don't know how I'm going to get through each day. I don't know how I will stay focused and do the level and quality of work I once did. I don't know how I'll leave her every morning. I don't know if I'll be able to put in long hours or handle the stress like I use to. That's not who I am anymore. I'm no longer, Crystal the HR professional. Now, I'm Crystal, the mother of two amazing girls. 

I know so many women balance work and motherhood but as I sit here, holding my sleeping rainbow, I really worry about losing this time with her. There aren't enough hours in the day already and now I'll be spending 8+ hours a day away from this precious girl. 

Motherhood has changed me yet again and I wouldn't have it any other way. I just hope both of my girls know that I do it for them. 

22 Months

Avery's 2nd birthday is 2 months from yesterday. How is that even possible? It still feels like it was just yesterday I was pregnant with her. Yet at the same time it's been 2 long years. Many say time heals all wounds, if that were the case, (which I know it isn't), how much time is supposed to heal a wound like this? For those who believe this trite statement, I can confidently tell you, It's been 2 years and the pain is still very real, I am not healed. 

Yesterday a song came on the radio and it brought me right back to the early days after Avery died. The days where it hurt to breathe and I wanted to hide under the covers everyday. Almost two years, and the pain is still very much present. My heart is broken still and it aches and longs for her. Every. Single. Day. 

Last night I internally debated if I would have rather known what was going to happen on her 6th day. Would I have been any more prepared to deal with the heartache? Would I have lived in each moment more, absorbing each and every second we were given? Or would I have been so overwhelmed with knowing what was coming that I would have just been worrying the whole time, plagued with what was coming? I'm sure parents who've lost have felt this way too. Those who knew their time was short I'm sure have thought about how it would have been if they didn't know and others like me wonder how they would have done more had they known. After debating scenarios in my head, I snapped out if it. The truth is, neither scenario is better because in the end, we are still without a huge piece of our hearts. 

I'm not sure what the point of this post is. I've just rambled. I still feel so lost without Avery. And it's really starting to hit me that her birthday is quickly approaching. Another year has flown by without her here. Another year of missed milestones. Another year of living through the pain. 

Time does not heal, it just pushes us further away from what we had but closer to one day being back together. 

One day. 

One day we will reunite. 

One day we will reunite and be a complete family again. 

Until that time, my heart will ache and that piece marked Avery will always be missing. 

I see her

You may not see my oldest daughter but I do.

I see her in the beauty of a setting sun,

I see her in the butterfly's carefree dance,

I feel her in the ebb and flow of the ocean waves,

I see her in the whimsical firefly's flickering light,

I see her in the awesomeness of a starry sky,

I feel her in the warmth of the sun on my face,

I see her in the vivid colors of a blooming bouquet,

I see her everywhere I go and feel her in everything I do. 

You may not see her or feel her but everyday I do. 

Grief-the never ending journey

There I sit listening to the sounds of my rainbow over the baby monitor as she naps in her room, in her crib-Avery's room, Avery's crib-for the first time, while working on a photo scrapbook for Avery when the phone rings. 

- "Hello, may I speak with Crystal?" 

- "Speaking"

- "Hi my name is (something I can't remember) from the evidence department at the police station"

My heart jumps into my throat. Why in the hell are they calling after all this time?

- "I'm calling to let you know that since the investigation into your daughters death is closed, you are able to come pick up the evidence we took from your home."

WTF? Why bow after all this time?

After a year and nine months of her passing and a year and a half since we were told their investigation was closed they decide they don't need her belongings in evidence anymore. I've spent every day since her passing working to accept it. I've been working on letting go of guilt. I've been working on pushing flashbacks of that day far, far from my mind. And in one quick 5 minute phone call, I feel like I'm taking a million steps back. 

Do you know how hard it is to still not feel like we were looked down on because our daughter died in our home? Do you know how awful it feels knowing that police and crime scene investigators went through our home to look for evidence? Do you know how hard it is to accept that we weren't allowed to be alone with our daughter in the hospital, instead detectives stood against the wall as we said our goodbyes?

All of these things have been pushed far back but now they are on the forefront of my mind and I can't shake them. I'm stuck on the fact that some of my daughters belongings have been sitting in evidence and that I have to go tomorrow to pick them up. I have no idea what to expect. All the person on the phone told me was they had her bassinet, which I do not want back nor do I ever want to see it again and some miscellaneous items taken from her crib. I knew they took things that were in her crib. But it still doesn't make sense, she wasn't sleeping in her crib. I'm not even sure what was in her crib. 

In my head I imagine a box with her name sitting on a shelf collecting dust in some dark closet of a room in the police department. What am I to expect to go through tomorrow? Will I have to go into that dark room? Will I have to look through her things there? Will I have to sign for each piece of "evidence?" Will the person that give me the stuff have some preconceived notion of me because my daughter died? Will I be looked down on? Will I see the detectives who investigated our case? They were amazing and truly never made us feel like suspects or bad people but what will I say to them? Will I make it back home before I lose it? Or at least to the car?

I hate the unexpected. I hate that I'll never know what's hiding behind the corner waiting to attack me when I least expect it.   Once again, the grief monster strikes. Just when you think you've tamed it and learned how to keep it in its place, a place where you've learned to manage it and keep it at bay, it breaks free and attacks you. It reminds you that you are not in control, that like love, grief cannot be controlled or suppressed. Like love, grief hits us when we least expect it and puts you in a tailspin. Like love, its a journey that never ends. 

---------------

Update: I love living in a small town. A family friend contacted me to let me know her nephew, a police officer, could pick the stuff up for us. Turns out I'm friends with his wife. So thankful that I don't have to go pick up the stuff at the PD. Thank you so much! 

SIDS-It wasn't our fault!

I feel the need to start this post by stating my intention. This post is intended to inform not criticize lack of knowledge. 

It was recently brought to my attention that people still question the facts surrounding Avery's death. Specifically, the reason for it and whether or not Eddy and I were to blame in any way. At first I was extremely upset and angry that people could question this. The thought that anyone would possibly think we did anything wrong absolutely killed me. However, after thinking it over and removing my emotions from the situation, I've come to realize, these questions are based from ignorance and a true lack if knowledge not real judgement. People want cause and effect.  They want to know what caused Avery to no longer be here. After all, there has to be a reason right? Babies don't just due! WRONG! And if you aren't educated about SIDS or know that was ruled the cause of her death, I can see how you may have questions. So, let me take a minute to provide some education. 

First, let me start by saying again, the medical cause of Avery's passing was ruled SIDS by the medical examiner.  SIDS stands for Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. SIDS is found to be the cause of death in infants after a thorough investigation into the death, including full medical examination and full police investigation is completed. SIDS is ruled the cause of death when there is no other explanation for the passing.  This means all other reasons for the death are ruled out including health/medical reasons, suffocation, accident, etc. 

There was nothing found physically wrong with Avery that caused her death medically. She was otherwise healthy. There was also nothing found as part of the police investigation which involved individual questioning of Eddy and myself and an investigation of our home, including her sleeping area. Therefore, it was ruled that this did not happen because of something we did. We are in no way at fault for her death. 

Unfortunately, they don't know what causes SIDS yet so there is no absolute way to prevent it from happening. There is lots of research being conducted to find the cause with most recent evidence pointing to a chemical imbalance in the brain stem. Because they still don't know what SIDS actually is, there are no tests or cures. There are only some guidelines for things to help lower the SIDS risk, but they do not 100% prevent SIDS.

These prevention include placing the baby on their back to sleep, sleeping the baby in the parents room but in their own sleep area, eliminating loose pillows, blankets, breastfeeding, eliminating exposure to cigarette smoke and leaving a fan on in the room. We took every precaution given with Avery and yet, it still happened to us. Again, there is no way to prevent SIDS 100%. 

As you can see, SIDS is still a big mystery but under no circumstances was Avery's death in any way something we did or something we could have prevented. Please remember this when dealing with families of SIDS deaths. As hard as it may be to wrap your head around the lack of cause, it's even more difficult for parents. Not a day goes by that we still don't wonder why and what if even though we know we couldn't have changed anything. We don't need the extra scrutiny from others looking down on us as if we did something wrong. Instead, we need support and love. 

I'll end this post with some other quick facts from the CJ Foundation for SIDS:

SIDS claims the lives of almost 2,500 infants in the US each year - that's nearly 7 babies every day.

SIDS deaths occur unexpectedly and quickly to apparently healthy infants, usually during periods of sleep.

SIDS is not caused by suffocation, choking, or smothering.

SIDS is not caused by child abuse or neglect.

SIDS is not contagious.

SIDS occurs in families of all races and socioeconomic levels.

SIDS cannot be predicted or prevented and can claim any baby, in spite of parents doing everything right.

This website has lots of good information:  http://www.cjsids.org. 

She's Here

Harper Isla Hanson was born via scheduled csection on January 21st at 7:23 am. She weighed in at 8lbs and was 20 1/4"

Her delivery went amazing and we heard her first cries within just a few minutes of the surgery starting. Hearing those cries put my mind and heart at ease. She was finally here. After they cleaned her up, my husband was able to bring her to me and lay her on my chest while they finished the surgery. It was amazing not being automatically separated once she was born. Having her right there on me, crying, gave me such a sense of peace. She roomed with us the entire hospital stay and only left our side the total of maybe an hour for tests. 

We are home now and she is doing fantastic.  We are head over heals in love with her. It's amazing how much you can love someone instantly. She is perfect and has brought so much happiness to us already. I'm still in awe every time I look at her.  

Having her with us, even with all of the joy she is bringing to us, is an emotional roller coaster. I miss Avery more than ever.  I feel her absence even more.  I worry about Harper so much. In the first week I couldn't sleep. I was afraid if I did, I would awake to that awful nightmare all over again. We have a breathing monitor but I was afraid to use it. Afraid it would sound in the middle of the night and afraid of what the outcome would be. I'm absolutely terrified of the night. Once the sun begins the set, the anxiety creeps into my mind. I am worried about everything.  Every cough, hiccup and noise in the middle of the night worries me. But she's doing great and I have to keep telling myself that. 

Today, Harper is 19 days old. Today and every day, Avery remains 6 days old. Harper has more than tripled her sister's age. And while I am beyond grateful that Harper continues to grow and thrive, I didn't anticipate the emotions I would feel daily as we experience with Harper what we didn't get a chance to with Avery. Every blessed moment with her is amazing but there are so many times   I find myself staring at Harper and wondering what Avery would have been like. I wonder what it would be like with a 20 month old and a newborn. I wonder how they would interact. I wonder if I would be so neurotic. I wonder if I would be more frustrated with two crying so many thoughts and questions run through my mind as I look into Harper's eyes. Questions I will never know the answer to, questions that will always fill my mind and always leave me wondering. 

I'm a mom again and it's a wonderful feeling. I am full of so much love and pride for both of my daughters it often brings tears to my eyes. Life will never be as I once expected but I am so grateful to be able to be a mom to two beautiful girls. 

Choosing to Embrace Joy, Peace and Happiness

The day that felt like it would never arrive, is tomorrow. Tomorrow our rainbow, Avery's sister, will make her grand debut. Surprisingly, I am rather calm. At least for now. I've spent the last 9 months working towards finding a balance between my grief and my joy. For so long, I felt guilty for being excited about Harper's arrival. I felt if I was excited for her, I was somehow turning my back on Avery.  Knowing I would have to balance parenting my two daughters in completely different ways was a hard concept to comprehend. How does that work?

You see, when you lose a child, life stops. It seems like happiness will never be part of life again. And honestly, you don't want happiness. Slowly, you find a way to smile and laugh without guilt. You realize it's not that you aren't still hurting and the pain is completely gone but that you must still live. Slowly but surely, you get back into a routine without feeling like you're moving on without them. Eventually, you find a way to incorporate them into your every day life while functioning. You find a way to a new normal and you work with all of your strength to hold it together (most days).  

But all of that quickly changes when you add a new baby into the mix.  Your mind doesn't know what to do with this change to what you've just accepted and your life. It's one thing figuring out how to live life again, it's a whole other thing to try wrapping your head around parenting a child in Heaven and a child on earth without guilt. Slowly, over the last 9 months, I've changed the way I think. Instead of worrying myself over letting Avery down, I'm embracing the joy and the gift we are being given. 

It's not an easy thing to do. Everyday I have to consciously choose to block out the doubt, the pain, the fear and the worry and let in the hope, the joy and the peace God is giving me again. I have to redirect my thoughts when the panic and 'what ifs' start in on me. If I let them start, they will consume me. They tear me apart.  I will lose my footing and fall face first. I know we are very blessed to have the chance to be parents here on earth again but I have to consciously make the choice to embrace and focus on just that. 

I know I'm not guaranteed anything with Harper. She could leave us just as quickly as Avery but if that's where I focus my energy, I lose out on the here and now. Today, tomorrow and everyday moving forward that God allows Harper to stay with us is a day I want to be completely present. I want to embrace each happy moment and not let the doubt and fear and worry and what ifs rob me of what I have in front of me. I want to live in the now. 

This will be a hard road. It will be much easier said than done. I know I will have many tearful breakdowns and many worry filled sleepless nights. My hope is that God will continue to fill me with peace so I can enjoy what is in front of me. And I've accepted that it doesn't mean I'm negating Avery and what she brought to me. It doesn't mean we are leaving her behind. Rather, we are all choosing to move forward as a family of four. Keeping her and all of the light and love she brought into our lives with us each and every day. 

It still breaks my heart that I won't see her and Harper grow and play together. I'm scared Harper will look just like her yet afraid they won't look anything alike. I will be an overprotective mom. Her first year will be full of over the top precautions. I don't know how I'll ever let her leave my arms. I don't know how I'll leave her when it comes time to go back to work. I don't know how I will sleep. But I do know I will make a conscious effort every day to appreciate every moment I have with her. 

Please pray for us tomorrow as Harper enters this world. As much as I am calm now, I really have no idea where my head will be tomorrow. 

"For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end." Jeremiah 29:11

Gratitude for those who remain faceless

I recently read a blog post written by a Labor and Delivery Nurse about her experience helping a family through the stillbirth of their son. Her words were beautiful and it gave me a little perspective into the other side of pregnancy and infant loss. I wish I could place a link to the post here but it's since been changed to a private post. 

As parents of loss, we know the hell our loss brought into our lives. We remember all of the details of that day more vividly than we would like. We replay the day over and over in our heads. We know firsthand how each moment of that day felt and how it continues to be and will always be a part of us, each and every day. But what we don't know is how our loss day impacted those who were part of our loss. We don't know what was going through the heads of those involved. 

I'm not talking about our families. I'm talking about those who were there with us, doing their jobs to help try to save our babies or trying to comfort us in our darkest hour. I very often think about the first responders to our home that morning and the doctors and nurses at the hospital who worked on Avery. I often wish I could get them all in a room and find out what the day was like for them. 

There was the police officer, a corporal, I believe, who was at our house so quickly. I can't see his face but I can clearly remember him busting through the door, running into our bedroom and taking over CPR for me. I know how hard it was for me to do CPR on her but I often wonder what was going through his head that morning. Was he just about to finish his shift or was he just starting his day? Was this the first time he had to respond to a call with a baby. God, I pray he doesn't get these calls often. I wonder if he has a family of his own. Did he to home and hug them a little tighter? I will always have a very great appreciation to this man, a man I don't know at all, who gave it his all until the fire department arrived. 

I often wonder many of the same things about the firefighters and paramedics who were next to arrive. I wonder what they were thinking as they rushed to our house. I wonder if they knew deep down, she was already gone once they started working on her. I wonder if any of them prayed on the drive to the hospital. I wonder if any of them still remember that morning. I know it couldn't have been easy for any of them. 

And then I wonder about the hospital staff. Those who spent over 30 minutes working on Avery. Trying everything they could to save her. I wasn't allowed in the room, I cannot remember any of their faces, but I am forever grateful that they tried as hard and as long as they did. I wonder if the doctor who broke the news to us had ever lost a child under her watch. I wonder if she still remembers Avery. I wonder how they found the strength the continue working that day. 

I wonder how June 12, 2012 affected each of the people involved in our loss. I know everything each of them did that day is just part of their job but to us, we are forever grateful of their service.  Even though most of these people remain faceless to me, they will always hold a special place in my heart. 

I want to say thank you to all of our police officers, fire fighters, paramedics, doctors, nurses and all others who stay strong when facing the worst and try their hardest to better the outcome. It takes a special person to do this work and I am forever indebted to those who helped that awful June morning. 

Christmas 2013

Last Christmas we ran away. It was exactly what we needed. It didn't feel like Christmas. We weren't forced into family traditions without Avery by our side. Honestly, if I wasn't 35.5 weeks pregnant, we probably would have run away again this year. And boy I wish we could have. 

For most of the big events since losing Avery, the days leading up to the event are normally more of a drain than the day itself. The anticipation and anxiety of what the day will be like take their toll, leaving the actual day generally not as bad as I had built up in my head. Christmas this year, however was different. I have been so busy over the past few weeks, I had pushed the thoughts about Christmas to the back of my mind. I knew it would be hard, but I didn't work myself up over it. This made Christmas Eve and Christmas day much harder than I prepared myself to face. 

Being forced into family traditions was absolutely heartbreaking. I made it a total of 15 minutes through our Christmas Eve service at a church before I had a mini anxiety attack and ran out of the church hysterical. Christmas Eve service is something I normally love and look forward to. However, it was a very I your face reminder of her absence. She should have been there with me in my arms. This is a tradition I looked forward to but absolutely hated being there last night. It killed me.  It's the things we do every year that are the knife to the heart. The traditions kill me. She is supposed to be a part of them. Here with us, not just in memory. 

Today, my old friend anger made it's presence known again. I woke up immediately angry. I wanted to sleep as late as possible but was wide awake at 6. She's supposed the be here. I'm supposed to wake up with her. We're supposed to have a tree with tons of presents for her. We're supposed to sit together and ready the story of Jesus' birth as a family. It's not supposed to be this way and it infuriated me. The littlest things had me on edge. I was dreading being around anyone and knew that it wouldn't take much to set me off. From the start of the day, I wanted to just crawl back in bed and avoid everyone and everything. But I couldn't, I had to out my game face on and face the traditions head on. I'm not going to lie, the day sucked. 

Nobody should have to spend time at the cemetery visiting their child on Christmas. Nobody should have to debate whether or not to include their dead child on gift tags. Nobody should have to try to speak to everyone as little as possible on Christmas for fear they will snap, the anger finally taking complete control.   Nobody should feel jealousy towards the happy families, complete and together on Christmas. It's hell. It's completely awful to spend Christmas this way.

I'm absolutely exhausted. I am so ready for the day to be done. I am ready to crawl in bed and have a good cry until I fall asleep. I'm ready for this pain to be over but I know that it will always be here in some form. Parts of Christmas may become more bearable over the years, but there will always be the lingering ache from the missing piece of my heart. 

Nothing will ever be the way I once pictured in my perfect world. And it hurts so much knowing I will never be able to change that. But I am thankful that God sent his son, Jesus, to be born and most importantly to die for us. Because of this, I know that while I cannot bring Avery back to me, one day, one amazing day, we will be together again. For this I am thankful. This keeps me going even when I feel like throwing in the towel. 

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I was letting Harper listen to some music tonight and pulled up Somewhere Over the Rainbow as sung by the children on Newtown, Connecticut. It's a beautiful rendition of the song.  

http://youtu.be/t1RwCTNdX78

I haven't listened to this song while pregnant but I thought it was fitting for our rainbow, Harper to hear it. While listening to it, I am reminded, once again, that with Harper about to enter our lives, I'm going to be so very torn between two worlds. 

Since losing Avery, I have no fear in death. And while I realize I've known where I am going after I die for sometime now, death was still something I was afraid of. That is until we lost Avery. Since losing her Heaven sounds better than ever. I have no fear of dying. I know when I leave this world I will be in the presence of Jesus and my beautiful daughter. How could I have any fear in that?  But now, Harper changes that a bit. While I'm not scared of dying, I will soon have another daughter who needs me. Here, in this world. Again, I'm being torn between two worlds. Which I realize will be the story of my life. 

The lyrics of this song are so fitting. When I first downloaded this song, I always longed to be the bluebird. To fly over the rainbow and away from this world and into hers.  I would always think, when listening to this song, how great a day it will be when I can finally spread my wings and fly to Avery. But at the same time, I had been praying and dreaming of being a mom again. And I've now been blessed to have that opportunity with Harper. My dream I've been dreaming is becoming reality. Little did I realize, when I first downloaded the song, how torn I would be when my dream was finally coming true. It's quite a challenge wanting to be present in two worlds but only being in one.  To want to stare into the beautiful rainbow but to also fly far away. 

For now, I will aim to soak in the time I'm allowed here in this world with Harper and know that one day, when it's time, I'll be with Avery again and eventually, we will all be together.

Somewhere Over The Rainbow

 Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow, Skies are blue,

And the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true...

Someday I'll wish upon a star

And wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where troubles melt like lemon drops

Away above the chimney tops, that's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly

Birds fly over the rainbow, why them, oh why can't I?

If happy little blue birds fly beyond the rainbow

Why, oh why can't I?

Turning Pink into Purple

Taking Avery's room apart to make it Harpers was so much harder than expected. Over the last 17+ months I've had a love hate relationship with that room. After we lost Avery, I hated going into her room. I was a stark reminder of a future lost. Over time, it became my sanctuary. I would spend hours sitting in the rocking chair, writing to her and reading. It became a place where I felt close to her. It was her room. But as the weeks turned into months, I found myself in the room less and less. It became a place where we kept her belongings and momentous we had gathered. 

In the last 2 months, Harpers things have slowly been added and honestly the room was a cluttered mess. This weekend was the weekend to make the transition. To transform Avery's room into Harper's room. Thanksgiving night we worked to clear it out so we could paint in Friday.  I was doing well until I had to take down the wall decorations. The decorations I spent hours picking out and putting up. I lost it. I felt like I was taking her down to put her away to be replaced by Harper.

It got worse the next day when it came time to paint. Avery's beautiful pink was going away, being replaced by Harper's pretty purple. Painting made the transition permanent. It became so very real. To make matters worse, the paint didn't seem to be going on well, my husband was really frustrated and both of our emotions were running high. Half way through, we were both questioning why we were even repainting. I felt absolutely horrible.  Painting really wasn't necessary. Why did I feel the need to cover Avery up? After many tears and much talking, we both found peace with giving Harper her own room. As much as Avery deserves to always be part of us, Harper also deserves her own identity too. After coming to grips with the fact that paint or changing the room isn't getting rid of Avery, the day went much better and the paint turned out beautiful. 

Saturday was time to get everything in order and put up Harper's decorations. The day went pretty well. It felt nice getting the room ready for Harper's impending arrival. We put up the art on the walls, washed the new bedding and blankets and organized the closet. 

I was doing well until it came time to change out the bedding. I will always absolutely love Avery's jungle bedding. As I folded up the blanket to put away for good, I felt like my heart was going to explode. She didn't get to use many of her belongings in her six short days but every night we got her ready for bed by laying her in her crib to dress her in her pajamas. She used her bedding, even if only very briefly, and there I stood, in a now purple bedroom, folding her perfect blanket and putting it in a bin. The perfect decorations for the perfect room all ended up in one Rubbermaid bin that will go in the attic. That's it. Avery's room no longer exists. And I feel like the hole in my heart is gaping wide open again. 

I know it's just a room. It's just a place. Her room is not her identity. But when all you've had is six days, it's hard not to cling to physical things. It's hard not to tie part of her identity to the things that were part of her short life. It's hard not to feel like once again I am being pushed further away from her. 

And at the same time, I feel guilty for feeling so terrible about changing the room. There really was no part of getting Harper's room ready that was fun or exciting. Getting ready for Avery was such a happy time. Once again, nothing is the same the second time around. But poor Harper deserves my happiness and excitement over her arrival. And so far, I really haven't been able to find that excitement. I am so afraid I will let her down. 

So here I sit. Torn between two worlds-one pink, one purple. With a love for both but with no idea how to balance both. I love my daughters dearly and want them both to feel that love. 

Avery's pink Jungle room. 

Harper's purple room (still a work in progress)

Giving Thanks

It's still hard many days to be able to see past what is missing in life and see what is still here to be thankful. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't sit and wonder what life would be like if Avery was still here with us. 

The holidays make that especially hard. Watching families celebrate with each piece in tact, seeing the million posts on Facebook of baby's first Thanksgiving, reading how everyone is thankful for their kids. It's enough to make a grieving parent want to lock themselves away from reality. 

Last year, that's exactly what we did. Las Vegas was out anti-Thabksgiving. It was what we needed at the time. But this year, we are back to reality. Back to turkey and football with the family. Back to the stark reality that this is NOT how we envisioned Thanksgiving when we were pregnant 2 years ago. But today, instead of focusing on the life I'm missing, I want to take some time and focus on all that I do have to be thankful for this year. 

I am thankful for...

God's unending love and grace. He has kept me going even on the darkest days. And His promise that one day, we will all be together again. 

Avery-my beautiful girl and the time we had with her, the things she has taught us and for her unending love.

My amazing husband who picks me up when I can't get up on my own, who walks this journey with me and who loves me and our girls unconditionally. 

Harper, my sweet and stubborn rainbow baby. The one who has brought hope back into our once dark and dismal lives. Avery's little sister, who will know all about her big sister in Heaven. 

Family who has stuck by outside through everything. Those who still speak her name, those that don't think we should be "over it" already, those who have kept us standing. 

Friends, old and new, who are like family. They never cease to amaze me with just how much they care for us and her and will continue to help keep her memory alive.

Even in our darkest moments, we still have lots to be thankful for. ❤️

Today the Storm is Raging

I woke up in a storm this morning...

I've had my ups and downs lately but I really thought I was learning to cope and function through the downs better. It had been quite some time since I had one of those days where I just couldn't do anything. I woke up and instantly felt anxious. No exact reason to be found just extremely anxious. I thought once I got to work, I'd be distracted enough to get through the day but once I got there it got worse.  I lost it and couldn't put myself together. There was nothing specific to set me off. No triggers. No major significance to the day. But I was a mess. I ended up leaving work within a few hours. 

I've been trying to pinpoint why I'm struggling so bad today. And still have no exact answers. I think it's a compilation of things...

The impending holidays...I'm dreading them. I thought they would be easier than last year since I'm pregnant but every bit of me wants to run and hide from them like we did last year. They are such an in your face reminder of all that is missing. Avery would have been so much fun this year. But instead we face the holidays without her. We must watch those around us and their happy families share in the joy of the holidays while we feel so incredibly incomplete. 

Harpers approaching due date...I wish I could fast forward to January. No make that February so I can get last her first 6 days of life too. I've had a few good weeks just enjoying pregnancy and looking forward to the future. But now that we are less than 9 weeks from her expected arrival, fear is over taking me again. I am terrified of losing her before she is born. And I'm terrified of losing her once she is born. 

Balancing Avery and Harper...I've had 2 amazing baby showers in the past week. And while they were wonderful and we are truly blessed to be surrounded by those who love us, it's still very bittersweet. We are all so excited for Harper's arrival yet if Avery were still here, I don't know if Harper would be coming. It's hard to celebrate and be completely excited when this thought is in the back of my mind. I'm still trying to figure out how to balance both without letting either of them down. 

Flashbacks...while I've been good at not focusing on the day we lost Avery, I've had a lot of brief flashbacks lately. Out of nowhere my mind briefly goes back to a moment of that day. Waking up, following the ambulance and calling family, my husbands reaction to the awful news, saying goodbye. I can still remember every vivid detail. These flashbacks don't last long and I can quickly refocus my thoughts but they are still a dagger to the heart and come out of nowhere. 

Shifting Avery's room to Harper's...we have a 2 bedroom house so I have no choice. I've kept Avery's room her own the last 17 months but January is quickly approaching and Harper needs her own space. Part of me is anxious to get Harper's room ready but a huge part of me isn't ready to get rid of Avery's room. I know I have to, I just wish I didn't have to. And it's crazy since it's just a room but it's hers and has been for quite some time. 

Today is just one of those days where the rainstorm seems to be stationary above my head. I hadn't watched the news to be told the storm was coming. I was caught off guard by one of those storms where the rain comes in every direction and no umbrella can keep you completely dry. Today's storm caught me unprepared. I had no umbrella handy, no raincoat or boots tinted to fight the cold rain off. I had let my guard down, and thought these storms had passed. But the truth is these storms will always come and go. Somedays I will be better at staying dry, others, like today, I just need to embrace the storm.  I need to let it soak me and know that eventually this storm will pass and I can dry off. 

All I can do on days like today is pray and know that I am not alone. "He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds."Psalms 147:3