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'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. 

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. 

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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!