Peer Companion Training

This past weekend I had the honor of attending a Peer Companion workshop hosted by the Florida Chapter of the Tears Foundation. If you've never heard of Tears check them out, http://www.thetearsfoundation.org/page.php?id=69. I was able to spend the day with 10 amazingly strong and beautiful women who, like me, are the unfortunate 1:4 women who have experienced infant and pregnancy loss. In our small group there were moms of multiple miscarriages, moms whose babies were born still, moms who lost due to incompetent cervix, trisonomy, strep B and vein of gallen. All of our stories different yet each of us still aching for our little ones who don't get to be with us. All of us wanting to help break the silence and be support to those who every day are added to our 1:4 club. 

Some of us were young, some were older. Some with other children, some who never got to keep theirs. Some many years from their loss and others more recent. Some pregnant, some hoping to be. Some who had met before and others total strangers. Eleven women different in so many ways but bonded by one commonality; our beautiful babies. 

We shared our babies, our pain and our hopes. There were tears yet there was lots of laughter. There were new friendships made; bonds that will last over many years as we all work towards our shared goals. We were all there to be trained to help others who are just starting their grief journey. Each of us wanting to be able to be the safe shoulder to cry on when the world is full of darkness and all hope is lost. To be that rock for others when their world is crashing down. And to be the calm voice when they feel like they are going crazy. 

Being with these women was incredibly rewarding. You feel an instant connection. We could have spent days together and still had so much more to talk about. I truly didn't want the day to end. I found myself in a conversation with two other moms and I heard myself saying how exciting it is to talk to someone who truly gets "it." And I realized how odd that sounded. Excited and baby loss don't belong in the same category, yet it's so very true. When you find someone who gets "it" and you on that deep, I've been there and know how you feel level, it is exciting. 

I left this weekend feeling refreshed and inspired. Since Avery I've wanted to do good. I want to bring some positive out of an absolutely awful situation. Becoming a peer companion is just one of the first steps towards that. I am so thankful for this workshop, these relationships I've built and for the Tears Foundation for making it possible. I see many more things coming in the future for me to reach out to the community, support other families of loss and do to is to hp break the silence. 

"Out of the ashes of our hopelessness comes the fire of our hope." - Anne Wilson Schaef

'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. 

2nd Birthday

Avery's 2nd birthday and anniversary came and went. This year I honestly was in a fog during that time. I wanted to show her how much we love and miss her. It at the same time, missing her is still exhausting and I really wanted to just get it over with. I know that sounds horrible. But I think I just wanted to prevent that this wasn't happening...again. Again we were buying pink decorations, balloons and having a cake made for our daughter who isn't even here. It's so unfair. All I want is to be stressed out over wrangling her, invites, family, friends, good, presents-all the craziness that planning a birthday party entails. But instead, I plan a memorial birthday, slightly worried that people will think we are crazy and that nobody will celebrate with us. 

But once again we were beyond blessed with all of the friends and family that came to celebrate her birthday with us. We sent balloons to her in Heaven and had a beautiful cake for her. This year everyone chipped in to have her name included on the new Angel of Hope monument being placed an hour north of us. Her grave was beautifully decorated by my best friends yet again this year. It really was a beautiful day.

For her birthday week we encouraged many to perform RAOK in her memory from the 6th - 12th. Once again I was blown away from how far Avery reached people. From the west to east coast of the US, Canada and in between, we heard from those, who even though they had never met Avery, were touched by her story. Finding positive focus during such a hard week really helped me through. 

The 12th was once again the worse day, well actually it really was the 11th. There is something about knowing that on that day just two years before, she was still with us, still in our arms. It's still so hard to wrap my head around how fast things can flip upside down. Nothing is guaranteed. Life is not predictable. And that day is the ever constant reminder of the fragility of life.

Now we enter another year without her. More holidays, more family events, more emptiness. This year I will strive to bring more good into this world, to keep her legacy going and to be the best mom to my two beautiful girls. 

Connecting and Healing through Blogging

As June approaches my mind has a way of more frequently wandering back; back to the days we had Avery, the day we lost her and those long days, weeks and months that followed where life was so dark. This morning as I sit feeding Harper before the sub rises, I am brought back to those dark, sleepless nights. 

It was maybe a few weeks after and sleeping at night was awful. Every time we laid down, I was reminded of our last night with her. Going to bed, laying there in the quiet was too much. No matter how hard I would try, the sobs would come. Eventually I would try to control myself long enough so that my husband could fall asleep but once he did, they were back. I would lay and cry for hours on end.

One night I remember grabbing my tablet and just searching for anything related to baby loss online. I wanted and needed to connect with people who had been in my shoes. I wanted to see people surviving this. And I wanted to know I wasn't alone. Eventually, I came across the Faces of Loss page and found hundreds of blogs. Stories of women who had been exactly where I was, their pain and heartache spilled out across the pages of their blogs. Their innermost thoughts coming across my screen. So many of their words, I could have written myself. The guilt, the anger, the overwhelming emptiness-they had felt it too. 

I somehow felt less alone. I spent the entire night reading blogs from beginning to end. From that night forward for weeks, I passed my nights by staying up reading story after story of babies gone too soon. These women who I had never met were helping me get through night after night without Avery.  I would pass my darkest hours lost in their words. 

I don't know why today I was reminded of this. Those nights were long but through these stories a little light began to peek through the dark. Friendships were made that are irreplaceable. And because of these women, most of whom I've never met, I slowly began to find my way again. Taking life one day at a time. I am so thankful we live in a age of technology, where we can express ourselves, share our stories and connect with total strangers. Without it, I don't know where I would be. 

Thank you blogged mamas for helping me get through day by day!

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.

I'd Rather be Blogging

Harper wants to follow in my footsteps already. 

This bib actually was meant for Avery. Long before I entered into the world of blogging, it was part of a pack of funny bibs about social media. Little did I know at the time, how much blogging would help me and the connections I would make with beautiful women all around the world through blogging. Kind of crazy, huh?

I thought I would use this as an opportunity to say thanks to all my blog friends for really helping me get through the last 22 months and walking this lonely road with me. 

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! 

Illuminate: Week 1

The following post is my first assignment in the online photography course, Illuminate.  To find our more about the course and its instructor, fellow babyloss mom, Beryl, click here.

Avery's Place

Avery's Place is finally open!  In July of last year, we held the Inaugural Avery Diane Hanson golf tournament.  We decided to use the money raised to build a playground at our church.  The children's ministry has always weighed heavily on my heart and I looked forward very much to watching Avery grow up in the church.  Until now, the children at our church have only had a large field to play in and a few wooden swings hanging from a tree.  Now, thanks to our family and friends who all came together to raise the money for the playground, the children at our church and in the community have a beautiful, safe place to play.  Even though I don't get to see Avery grow up at church, now I get to see children playing and enjoying themselves at a place that was made possible because of her.  It is very bittersweet.  Here are some pictures...

 

 

Avery shining down on her playground

 

 

 

One of the many roses planted all around the playground

A step forward

Here we are again, it's the 6th of yet another month. Has it really been 9 months already? I cannot believe I would have a 9 month old at home already, probably getting ready to become mobile. Time is moving at a rapid pace and yet every 6th of the month, I feel like I'm right back in that hospital room with Avery. Oh how I wish life has a rewind button. I'd love to rewind and live those 6 days again I'm slow motion.

And even though today I am back in those moments, I have taken a huge step forward. Today, I actually made it in to work. Since coming back to work in August, I've avoided pretty much everything outside of my house on the 6th and 12th of each month. It was easier hiding out in the comfort of my home where I could cuddle up with my Avery bear from Molly Bears or her blanket. Hiding out was doing me no good but it allowed me to stay in my comfort zone and allowed me to focus primarily on Avery on those days. This month I decided I needed to quit hiding from life and take that next step; a step away from my comfort zone.

In the last 9 months I've stayed close to my comfort zone, only stepping out occasionally (and usually by force). I've avoided being around new people, new environments and situations I felt would make me uneasy. I'm not saying I was wrong in doing so (or that anyone who does this is wrong, there is no right or wrong on this journey we are on) but I felt it was time I stop hiding out. Whether I hide out in a dark room clinging to the things that make me feel close to her or spend my days elsewhere, the fact remains that she is not here with us. Hiding from life isn't going to bring her back.

So I made a pact with myself that this month I wasn't going to run away from the dates. Last night, I started getting really anxious that I was leaving her behind and she would be upset at me. But I talked myself down from the irrational guild ledge I was teetering on. I won't lie, this morning was hard but I pushed through and made it to work. Albeit, an hour later than normal but I made it. And while it hasn't been an easy day and I've cried while sitting at my desk more than I have in awhile, I'm surviving.

Ive struggled with moving forward without Avery. I find myself getting overwhelmed with the future, with the unknown and when I focus on those things, I start retreating. I want to run and hide from life and all of the pain associated with it. The thought that 5, 10, 50 years down the road I'll still be without her is so overwhelming, I'm not sure how to process it. The anxiety, the fear, the pain-it's just too much at times. I cannot allow myself to continue being overpowered by these thoughts and things I cannot control. I've been trying the past few weeks to keep reminding myself to just take one step at a time and take life one moment, one day at a time. When I focus on small steps, I find myself taking them and I find it a little easier to breathe.

So here I am, 9 months since Avery was born working on taking small steps forward and trying to navigate my way through life without her. I miss her so much.

I found it fitting while writing this to share the verse I've been working to memorize this week:

Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

Joshua 1:9

For Good

On Saturday night we went to see Wicked with some friends. It was an amazing show. Almost towards the end Elphaba and Glinda sing a song, "For Good." The performers did an amazing job with the song but the lyrics really spoke to me. While Avery came into our lives for only a brief moment here on earth, her little life changed us for the better and for good. She changed us in so many ways, helped us to grow, to appreciate, to love and so much more. I thought I'd share some of the lyrics (I apologize, I cut out a verse that doesn't really apply).

For Good from Wicked

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you...
I have been changed for good

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you...

Because I knew you..

I have been changed for good.
...
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood

Who can say if I've been
Changed for the better?
I do believe I have been
Changed for the better

And because I knew you...

Because I knew you...

Because I knew you...

I have been changed for good...

Peace and Acceptance

Over the last few weeks, I felt I was getting to a point of, dare I say, peace or acceptance?  I think I am getting to the point where I recognize that I don’t have to be an emotional mess to love Avery or that I don’t have to cry myself to sleep every night to know that I still miss her deeply.  I’ve been having more “good” days than bad recently and I’ll admit it, it feels nice.  And even during those days where I am doing well, I still think of her so much.  It’s always been my fear that in doing well I would do what I fear most; move on (even typing that phrase I cringe).  I think I am coming to grips with the fact that I’ll never move on but rather find a way to move forward each day with her in my heart.  It’s been a relief of sorts coming to this realization.

I was been doing quite well, until yesterday.  Yesterday was quite a day for us.  We met with a new OB/GYN office just as a consultation.  Not that we are ready to fully try again, but this time around, I wanted to talk to someone first.  I wanted someone to look me in the eyes and tell me they would do everything they could to bring us as much peace of mind as they could should we give pregnancy another shot (I love my former OB but I simply cannot deliver at the hospital in town, too many memories-good and bad).  The doctor we met was truly wonderful.  He didn’t make me feel uncomfortable or rushed even though the lobby was packed.  He listened and sympathized with us.  And while both he and I understand that he is not God and he cannot promise this won’t happen again, he made me feel more comfortable with the idea of another pregnancy. 

Towards the end of the appointment, we were discussing what we found out from Avery’s medical exam and he asked if we had genetic tests done.  I always assumed the Medical Examiner’s office would have conducted those test but I really didn’t know for sure.  So for peace of mind, he ordered a genetic panel to be run on me.  At first, I was happy to feel like we were taking the first steps towards that “peace of mind” I will so desperately long for should I get pregnant again (although, let’s be real, no amount of tests will ever calm my nerves, we all know way to much about what can and does go wrong during pregnancy) but now, I am a ball of nerves.  I am so afraid that my husband and I will strike the unlucky lottery again and both are carriers of some recessive chromosomal abnormality.  What then?!?

This got me to thinking about Avery’s medical exam again (honestly, I obsessed about it all night while I couldn’t sleep).  I have left several messages in the past with the medical investigator who handled her case to ask about the genetic test to no avail (surprise, surprise).  So, I decided to call again today.  Wouldn’t you know it, he didn’t answer.  So instead of leaving a message, I called the receptionist.  She was nice enough to pull Avery’s records and to let me know that genetic tests aren’t “standard procedure” and are not conducted unless the exam presents a sign that one would be needed.  So, the excuses I received week after week of not wanting to leave any stone unturned and wanting to feel confident they looked at everything they could while we waited 5 long months for them to tell us nothing was complete crap.  They didn’t turn over EVERY stone. 

I am no medical expert but really? How hard would it have been to send the lab work out for genetic tests?  I am so very disappointed in the system.  Now I feel like maybe there was something genetic and even if my tests come back normal, she still could have had something.  That peace and acceptance I thought I was coming close to, now feels even further away.  I am doing my best not to dwell on this as I wait for the next few weeks for my results but it is so difficult.

And while I just went on for much longer than I wanted about my worries, I am also heartbroken for another family.  A family I don’t even know.  A family in my community who went in yesterday at 37 weeks due to lack of movement to be told the baby’s heart had stopped.  Another family has joined this dreadful club.  They didn’t want to be members, but like me they are now members for life.  I don’t know this family but I haven’t stopped thinking about them since I heard their story last night.  That one in four statistic feels like it is getting smaller by the day.  My OB asked if she could share my contact information with them should they want to reach out and I of course said yes.  I hope that one day they will have the strength to reach out and talk about their precious baby.  The bond between those who have lost is so strong, the connection is so real and I am so thankful to have those to talk to who are part of this community.  Nobody else gets it like those in the babyloss community. 

Another family is in pain tonight, another future that was once full of dreams is forever changed.  And I cannot help but think “why?”  Please keep this family in your prayers as they face the weeks, months and years ahead of them without their baby. 

So yea, that peace and acceptance I was feeling closer to well, it’s not so close anymore.  How can it be when this continues to happen to other families?  How can it be close when I am once again questioning Avery’s health and the outcomes of future pregnancies?  There is just so much heartache in our community and it is all weighing heavily on me today.

How can one find peace when the storms seem to come continuously?  This journey feels like being stranded at sea.  Sometimes the waters are calm and you can make out land in the distance and others a storm comes and knocks you off course. I am still stuck in hurricane season where the storms come fierce and often but I have hope that one day, the seas will be calm more than they are rough.  I have hope that I will find peace and acceptance one day, but for now, peace and acceptance linger on the horizon as I navigate through these choppy waters of heartache and questions. 

Keeping Quiet

Since losing Avery I've searched for support resources. The Internet has been invaluable in providing me with blogs, loss websites, social networking sites, etc. that have helped me through my journey thus far. These tools have been wonderful. I've connected with so many women online who, like me, are walking the grief road. I am so thankful that we live in a time where there are so many resources at our fingertips. I am however extremely disappointed in the resources available in my town.

I'll admit, I don't live in a buzzing metropolis like New York City but I also don't live in the middle of nowhere. The City I live in has a decent population but in the last 8 months, I have not been able to find a single pregnancy or infant loss support group within 45 minutes of my home. Yet, I hear more and more stories of people in my community who have suffered the loss of a pregnancy (in all stages) or the loss of their infant. Why did I not know these stories until now? Why does nobody talk about this? It is very frustrating to live in a society that still remains tight lipped about our losses.

I miss Avery so much and the thing I've found helps me the most is to talk about her. We should be allowed to openly talk about our losses without fear of judgment!  And talking to those who have suffered a similar loss is valuable.  Talking to those who have walked this road is so beneficial and helpful.  In talking to those who have lost a pregnancy or infant, the thoughts I have that I feel are crazy, or irrational, have been validated over and over again.  I am not crazy; I am grieving my daughter and talking to others has made me realize this so much more than simply reading a grief book.

Comforted by Grief

It’s been 8 Months since we held her last.  It’s been 35 weeks since our lives felt whole and complete.  And we’ve spent the last 245 days being absolutely heartbroken.  I feel like in these last 8 months, time has stood still.  Yet it hasn’t.  Time is cruel and it continues to march us further and further away from the time we spent with Avery.    

In these last 8 months, I have found I focus on the time a lot.  In my head, I have a time clock running, counting how many weeks it’s been since I saw her sweet smile for the last time.  I am constantly thinking, “36 weeks ago today, we were being induced, tomorrow makes 36 weeks since she was born, Friday makes 36 weeks since we had our first night at home” and the clock continues as the days pass.

I replay the last night we had with her in my head, I know the times we woke up, the times we fed.  I know the last time I saw her breathing, peacefully asleep next to me.  I know the time I woke up, 30 minutes later to find her not OK.  I know the time they “called the code” in the hospital.  I know all the time that surrounded her life, yet since she left this world, the present time has stood still.

In the last 8 months, we’ve done a lot of things to try to run away from life.  We’ve traveled to the West Coast, Vegas, Chicago and Tennessee and yet, I only remember a few details from those trips.  I remember so many details of those 6 days we had with Avery yet I can barely remember what I did last week.  Time is passing me by and right now, I am content with that.  I am happy to be stuck in those 6 days.  They were the best days of my life. 

They say that time will help us to heal but in many ways, I am not sure I want to heal.  Being stuck where I am now, where my grief is raw and fresh helps me still feel close to Avery.  On days like today, where I can just lay in bed and cry all day, I feel an odd sense of calm.  I know this place well and I feel at home in it, it is familiar and I am comfortable here.  As much as it hurts, I know what to expect. 

Finding healing terrifies me.  While I know that no amount of time will ever heal us completely, I am still scared.  Logically, I know I will NEVER forget Avery and I will ALWAYS have her in my heart but leaving this place where the pain cuts deep is frightening.  This has been my life the past 8 months; this heartache is my new normal.  Anything outside of this is foreign to me and right now, I don’t want to leave my bubble. I am scared of losing her and losing our memories.  I know what to expect out of my current days, but what do days look like if I step out of this bubble.  More let downs? New heartache? Stepping outside of my grief bubble makes me vulnerable again and right now, I’m not sure I can expose myself life that again. 

I understand that one day I will need to leave this bubble.  I cannot hide from life in my grief forever.  However, today is not that day.  Today I hide and surround myself with my grief.  Today I find comfort in my overwhelming heartache because it helps me to feel close to her.  And today, I need to feel close to her. 

Dates and Days of the Week

I've been dreading February and March for sometime now. They are the first months since June where the big dates also fall on the same days of the week they did back in June. These next two months from the 1st - 16th are going to be exceptionally painful.

Since Friday I have been reliving each day and thinking to myself. "8 months ago at this time I was..."

8 months ago today was our last day before we headed to the hospital to be induced.

8 months ago yesterday, Sunday, I went to the hospital for a NST and got to hear Avery's heart beating so beautiful.

8 months ago last Friday, the 1st, we had a little scare when I bled out of nowhere. We went to the hospital in a panic not knowing what was wrong. After a few hours of monitoring they chalked it up to Avery getting ready to make her appearance and my low lying placenta.

8 months ago tonight, I had a restless night of sleep. Excited to be meeting my daughter. I woke up around 3 and sat in the Livingston with a bowl of cereal soaking in the last few peaceful moments I would have with her on the inside.

8 months ago tomorrow we woke early to head to the hospital to be induced. We paced the halls trying to progress my labor while listening the the Black Keys.

8 months ago on Wednesday, our beautiful daughter finally entered the world all 7lbs 15.5 ounces of her with her chubby cheeks and beautiful head of hair. 8 months ago after I was taken from the post OP room, I held her for the first time in the wry early morning hours. I fell in love more deeply than I ever thought possible.

I could go on and on. I can remember so much from this time period 8 months ago. I am trying my best to hold it together but there is something about it being the date and day that is digging the knife in my heart deeper.

I just miss her so much. No matter how many months pass, that will be the one thing that stays the same; my love and longing for her.

I pray for God's continued comfort and strength over these next two weeks. I also pray for everyone who I've meet in the BL community that He would comfort and strengthen you too!

Isaiah 41:10

Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.

❤

I'm stuck in 3 worlds...

I am simultaneously living (unsuccessfully) in 3 worlds in my mind. Theres the world where I am Avery's mother and she is with me. There's the world I dream to have, the world where I get to be a mom again. And then there's the world I'm stuck in currently.

In the Avery world I cling to every memory of her with a passion I didn't know I had. A passion and love I didn't know was possible. I was a mother. Avery was my purpose in life; a purpose that I don't know I had. She was my everything. I want her back with every fiber of my being. I would do anything to have her back with me. But she's gone and I'm stuck in the land of "should of beens."

Then there's the world I want to be in; the world I dream of. The place where we are blessed with a sibling for Avery. A place where I get to actively be a mommy. In this world, I still miss Avery like crazy but I get to fulfill my purpose in life. A place where I get to see my child grow past 6 days into adulthood and get to experience every milestone in between. A place where hope is restored and happiness found. A place where I share Avery with her sibling and get to mother both of them. This is a place I long for. This place feels the closest to normal I'll ever come close to again. This place is what I long for yet is beyond my current reach.

Then there is the place I am stuck. The place where I am trying to figure out where I belong and how I'm supposed to live now. A place where my career means nothing to me anymore. Where my house is too quiet. Loneliness surrounds me in a room full of people. A place where my husband and I don't know what to do with our free time. A place where I avoid crowds and meeting new people. A place with fewer and fewer people to talk to. A place where all that I want and can't have is thrown in my face everywhere I go. I hate this place. Everything about it feels extremely wrong.

So here I sit stuck somewhere in the middle of all of these places with no idea where I am supposed to be. I can't live forever in my fantasy Avery world and until we come to an agreement and put the fear aside, I cannot move to the world I long to be part of. Yet I cannot find it in myself to fully accept the world I am stuck in. I don't want this world. I loathe this world. I want more. Yet I can't have it and I have zero control over getting to that place in life.

So I'm stuck in 3 worlds, trying to be 3 different people. It's a nightmare, one I can't seem to wake up from. A world where nobody around me gets me anymore. It's a very quiet, very isolating place. Oh what I would do to hit rewind or fast forward. Where's the DVR controller to my life when I need it? If it were only that easy.

All I can do is pray, and pray some more. I try to focus on Romans 8:28 but I'm finding it so hard. I really just wish I could have a glimpse at God's plan and be reassured that happiness will find me again. But life doesn't work that way so today I pray for peace and comfort and hope and patience. I need all of that to help me survive my 3 worlds.

Please explain how I'm supposed to "fake this, until I make it"

I've had one dream about Avery in the last 7 months and it was amazing. I pray every night that God would bring her to me in my dreams. So far that hasn't happened. Instead I have dreams, correction, nightmares about babies/children.

Each dream is different but the same. Last night for example, my husband and I were in the hospital after having twin girls. It seemed like it was going to be a happy dream but in an instant it shifts. It goes from happy to panicked. In every dream I have involving children this happens.

One minute things are fine and the next minute, I have to save them. Last night, one of the babies stopped breathing. Instantly, I tried to wake them up without success then I start CPR. Every ounce of me terrified for the outcome. In the dream last night just as I was able to start one breathing, the other would stop. Round and round we went until I finally woke up shaking and sweating.

Last night it was twins, it's been baby boys, toddlers, all shapes an size of children. But it's always the same-I must try to save them. And it always ends before I know the outcome.

Thank you SIDS for doing this to me. For making me feel like this. I couldn't save Avery that morning no matter how hard I tried. As soon as I woke up and noticed she hadn't changed positions since I checked on her barely an hour earlier my heart sank. I knew something was wrong. My husband ran to her bassinet, picked her up while I screamed for him to give her to me. I tried to wake her. She wouldn't respond. He called 911 while I checked to make sure she didn't have anything in her mouth and immediately started CPR. I was trembling but calm all at the same time. I was so focused on what I was doing, I didn't have time to fall apart. I needed to save her and I tried, I tried so hard. It was only a few minutes until the ambulance arrived but I hadn't made a difference. She still wasn't breathing. An hour later at te hospital we were given the awful news.

As much as I try to push that morning into the back of my mind, it will always be there. Waiting until my guard is down to attack me in my dreams.

As much as I know we did nothing wrong as parents. I still feel guilty. As much as I know I took every precaution they have for reducing the risk of SIDS, I still feel like I could have done more.

As much as I know barely an hour before she was sleeping safely next to me, I still doubt myself for falling asleep. I blame myself for being tired at 5 in the morning.

As much as I know I did everything I could to try to bring her back, I still can't escape the feeling that I let her down, that I failed at saving her.

My day is shot and its barely 9am. I cannot shake my dream or my feelings of failure and guilt.

For that therapist on Ricki Lake, I'd like to see you try to "fake this until you make it." I cannot fake through this until I make it. This will FOREVER be my life. She will FOREVER be my daughter who passed away for no reason. And I will FOREVER have to live with the memories of that day.

This is my life now and there is no faking it until I feel better. Yes, these feelings are awful but I would rather feel what I feel than to pretend I feel fine. While all I want to do today is curl up in bed (and to be honest, I just might do that), feeling this way reminds me how much I love my daughter and reminds me that no matter how much time passes, she will always be a part of me. Good or bad emotions, they are still rooted from my absolute, unconditional love for her. Faking it would disgracing to her, to her memory and to her life.

Missing the little things

Everyday I live knowing my daughter is not here with me like we planned. Every morning I wake up to thoughts of her. I lay thinking about her and this messed up reality I'm forced to live. Every morning it's a struggle to get out if bed. This is my new normal.

However, there is another part if my new normal. It's the thoughts that hit you out of the blue and throw you for a loop.

This morning for example, I finally found the strength to get out of bed and get to work (30 minutes late, which is also a new normal for me) but as I'm in the shower I begin thinking of Avery. My thoughts wander to giving her a bath and the fact that as her mommy, I never gave her a proper bath. They have her 2 in the hospital, the last being the day we left. I wasn't part of those. Then, once we were home we only did quick sponge baths with her. We had planned to bust out the baby tub and give her more traditional bath the day we lost her. I am a mother yet I've never given my child a bath!?!?

I wonder if she would have liked the bath, probably not. But I missed knowing this for sure. I missed seeing her expressions as the water dripped over her skin. I missed drying her off and cuddling her warm. I missed playing with her beautiful hair when it was all wet. I missed so much and this is only bath time!

That did it. The strength I found in bed to get my day going was gone. I cried through my shower and slowly pulled myself together. But as I sit here at work, I can't help but obsess over all of the things I didn't get to do.

I hate my new normal. I certainly don't feel normal. Not only do I have to struggle with the enormous void in my life but daily I have to battle the little things that take over my thoughts. Things as small as a bath that turn my world upside down all over again. I want her back-I want my life back! But instead I must live missing her everyday until we are once again reunited.

Drowning in Grief

My goal for 2013 was to stay positive. 9 days in and I'm failing. Miserably. I've been drowning in my grief since Avery's 7 month birthday on the 6th.

I've learned grief is like a rip current. One moment you think you're ok, your swimming, enjoying the sea, letting your guard down, going with the flow of the waves and then it catches you. It pulls you under and rapidly drags you out to sea.

I made it through December better than expected. My goal was to be strong. I wanted to be stronger than my grief. I wanted to fight it with all my might, push forward and feel like I was living life. Well, so far that's been an epic fail. I'm drowning and the harder I fight it, the further I'm pulled out.

They say if you get caught in a rip current you aren't supposed to fight it. They say, fighting the current will wear you out and you won't survive. Maybe I should apply the same thought process to my grief. It seems the more I fight it, the more it engulfs me and my entire being. The more I fight it, the weaker I am.

They say instead of fighting the rip current, you should swim parallel to the shore. This keeps you from being pulled out further to sea. Then, once the current releases you, you can slowly swim to shore.

Maybe instead of fighting to stay positive and fighting the strong emotions I've had this week, I should embrace my grief more. Roll with it until this tide passes and it slowly releases its iron clad grip and then I can slowly bring myself back, slowly.

Maybe I've been looking at it all wrong. I've been forcing myself to try to feel better, trying to function more, trying to go back to the 'old me.' I've said I'd never be the old me before, so why do I think I should be back to functioning like I use to already? Maybe I need to cut myself some slack. The more I fight it and force it, the worse off I am.

This journey is exhausting. The rip current of grief has been dragging me further out to the grief sea. And I've been trying my darnedest to fight it, to swim back to shore. I don't see a lifeguard jumping in to save me. I think I need to take their advice though, I need to start swimming parallel to shore, taking it one stroke at a time, until it subsides and I have the strength to swim back to shore. The thing about rip currents I have to remember is, they don't just happen one time, they can strike at any moment. I need to remember that even if I get back to or close to shore, I will be taken out to sea again and again. This is the journey I am on and while the shore may get closer, I will never get out of this water.

10 Tiny Fingers

10 tiny fingers.
10 little toes.
Beautiful dark hair,
And a cute little nose.

I kept you safe inside of me,
For nine months you grew.
You brought to us new life,
And a love we never knew.

You made us a family,
Mommy, Daddy and Avery.
We were finally complete,
And oh so very happy.

Then our lives changed,
You left us too soon.
Now we are left broken,
And so lost without you.

We have hope for tomorrow,
Faith to help us through.
Heaven will be so sweet,
Spending forever with you.