I want my bubble back

I've struggled a lot this week with simply just being overwhelmed with the awful things that happen in this world.  Sometimes being a member of this babyloss community can be so overwhelming. We know first hand how quickly life can turn upside down.  This knowledge and the loss of your naivety wears on your emotions. Being acutely aware of the reality of death has a way of doing that I guess. And this week was especially hard. The week started out fine but took a quite unexpected turn for me personally. 

While preparing for a conference call with a manager at my new job, her phone rang. I saw the name on the phone and my heart dropped. It was one of the manager' employees calling; an employee whose teenage child was battling cancer. As soon as she picked up the phone and I could hear the cracking of the mothers voice on the other line, I knew it was the call the manager, and all of the wonderful people we work with, had been dreading. Her son wasn't going to make it very long, it was the end. I sat there stunned, tears streaming down my cheeks as I watched this manager crumble yet manage to keep it together just enough to try to be strong for that poor mother. The call ended and we both crumbled together. That sweet mom lost her child a few hours later. 

I don't know the mom, I don't know the child and up until 5 minutes before that call came through, I didn't even know this manager. But in that moment, my heart absolutely broke for all of them. I know what it's like to be that mom. Having to make those awful calls. Having to put on a brave face knowing that life as you know if will never be the same. Knowing your hopes, dreams and the future you saw for your child would never come to be. And not knowing how you could possibly take that next breath. 

A child is not supposed to die before their parents. It's not the natural order of things yet every single day, I'm reminded that it happens and often. Whether it's the sweet baby still tiny and growing in the womb, the tiny premie born too soon, the baby with the rare heart defect or like Avery, the baby gone for no reason at all; it happens every. single. day.  And as Harper continues to grow, the fears of losing her grow too. Accidents, cancer, school shootings, workplace shootings, domestic violence. It surrounds us daily. No matter what any of us do, we aren't safe and nobody is immune. Seriously, how do any of us ever leave the house? 

And I've got to be quite honest, some days I just don't know how many more tragic stories of childless or tragic loss my weak heart can bear. Friends, coworkers, strangers - I hear their stories of loss oh so often. And every time my heart breaks. Some days, I'm ready to throw in the towel and retreat into a makeshift bubble where I'm not surrounded by it all anymore. But just when I feel I've had all I can take, someone reaches out who needs to know they are not alone. That they aren't the only person in this miserable world who has buried their baby and feels like the rest of the planet has moved on without them. And just when I feel like giving up, I'm pulled right back in. As hard as it is, as heartbreaking and horrible as it is knowing these tragedies occur daily, it's even more heartbreaking knowing how isolating it can be walking this path. I don't know how doctors, nurses, law enforcement, fire fighters, medics, etc do it constantly. But I'm ever so thankful that they do. 

I think I will forever question God as to why parents have to bury their babies. Why is there so much pain and suffering of innocent children? Why let this happen?

Why? 

Why?

Why?

It just doesn't make sense and it honestly never will. 

This world is a scary place.  None of us know what our next hour or even minute brings so let go of the small stuff, say you're sorry and appreciate those you have in your life. 

3 years

The clock just hit midnight and just like that, it's June 12th...again, I've been laying in bed for over an hour trying to will myself to sleep and stop my mind from wandering to no avail.  My thoughts tonight are on three years ago. And all night long I've been watching he clock and counting down the time. This time 3 years ago, we had just about 6 hours left with Avery and yet we had no idea. Our world was still perfect. We expected to watch her grow up not wake up to a nightmare that will forever haunt me. 

I can't help but relive that night. Yet it's killing me that the memories are getting fuzzy. I remember the timeline. In bed around 10, up at midnight to feed, up again at 3 back down around 5 ish and then the alarm at 6. The alarm that awoke me to my nightmare. But it's the images of her, it's the feeling of her in my arms, her smell, her cry those feel like they are fading. And I absolutely hate that. 

I wish I could go back and just hit pause and just live in those moments forever. I wish that night I had as hard of a time falling asleep as I am tonight. Maybe, maybe if I hadn't fallen asleep, I would have noticed her sooner and she would still be here. I hate these thoughts. I hate today. I hate living without her. I hate knowing that I will hate this day for the rest of my life. Yet I know I must, and I will and the world will keep spinning and life will keep moving forward. I just want to go back even if just for a day to old her and soak her in one last time. 

If only...

5 not 6

I went to a baby shower for a dear friend when I was just 13 weeks pregnant with Avery. She was 29/30ish weeks pregnant and expecting her second. At the shower there were 5 of us all pregnant. One who went into labor that day and the rest of us spread over the next 7 or so months. We took a photo of all 5 of us, varying bump sizes. Over the next few months each of us welcomed sweet babies into this world. 

I looked forward to Avery being just 2.5 months younger than one of my best friends kids. I saw family vacations, lots of fun playtime as we got together and watching our kiddos grow up together. We all know that didn't turn out the way I imagined. 

Most days, I've tucked Avery into her special place in my heart. Most days, I have no idea what it would be like to have an almost 3 year old. She's still that tiny baby in my head. And unfortunately, that's how she's always going to be to me. But this past weekend I got a glimpse into what it would be like to have a 3 year old. My friend and her family came to visit. My friend and her son, the one Avery should be playing with. There he was in all his 3 year old glory. Running, talking, playing, potty trained, independent yet still in need of good snuggles. 

Somehow it didn't really sink in how much Avery was missing until we tried (unsuccessfully) to get all 5 of them to sit, stand and face the camera. Little E, who should be Avery's playmate, refused to sit with the rest of the group, resulting in a big gap. A big gap where Avery should be. There should have been 6 of them in that picture. Avery should have been playing with the kids, should be in that picture and should be keeping me on my toes. 

1:4 will lose their baby. I had no idea when taking that picture at that baby shower that was the statistic. I was 13 weeks, we were in the safe zone. But we weren't. 

Unfamiliar Territory

I've hit an odd place in my journey. 

Early on the tears flowed like waterfalls. Everything was dark, pitch black. There was no hope, there was no happiness, just a black hole of never ending pain.  And I truly couldn't imagine a life that was any different. I mean, how could I? 

My. 

Daughter. 

Died.  

It seemed like it would be a life sentence of misery. Even when on the outside, I put on my fake smile, I was dying on inside. 

As time moved me forward, the darkness slowly started to lighten and I was somehow being pulled out of the black hole. Smiles that were genuine began again. Laughter came but just as often as their were periods of happiness, there were equally periods of deep sadness. Some days I truly felt crazy. Who goes from having a great day to a heap of a person sobbing on the floor? I did. And sometimes multiple times a day. The grey period was interesting; learning to navigate my emotions, learning to live without a piece of my heart, learning how to move forward without moving on. 

And then it happened, the rainbow after the storm. And I have to admit, I am very hesitant to write this so let me be clear, a rainbow does NOT replace the child lost, does not mean the parents have moved on or that they will no longer be sad and long for their baby gone too soon. Having Harper brought so much hope and love back into my broken heart.  Her first year of life was trying to say the least. And I had about a million panic attacks thinking I would

lose her too. She keeps us busy, she makes us smile, she makes us cry, she makes our hearts fill with so much love. She makes me wonder a thousand times a day what Avery would have been like. And she never stops surprising us with her sweet love for her sister. 

She has brought light back into our dark lives. She has taught me that it's truly ok to be happy, to love, to smile, to laugh. She has been such a blessing and has helped me so much on my healing journey. I think she's part of the reason I feel like I am in such a odd place right now. Maybe odd isn't the right word, maybe it's just unfamiliar. 

I'm in a new place where I no longer feel the need to wear Avery on my sleeve. Early on, I needed to tell every person who would listen about Avery. I needed to scream her name from rooftops, I needed to do as much as possible to outwardly remember, recognize and honor her. But I'm not there anymore. For a while I felt guilty for feeling that way. Like I was ready to pack her up and move on. But I've come to realize that's not what I am doing. I've come to a place where I don't have to do the outward things to feel like her mom. I don't have to scream her name for a to hear to show the world my love for her. I don't have to prove to anyone she existed. I know she existed. I know how amazing she is and I know how much I love her, how much I think about her and how much I miss her every day. 

This place is unfamiliar. I don't know what it means. And that scares the hell out of me. I don't know how to manage this new place. But as I've been doing for almost 3 years now, I plan to just take it one day at a time and see where I end up. 

Experiences

This time of year I am hesitant to take a look at my daily time hop app. Some days they are all Harper but others there are bittersweet, heart wrenching reminders of Avery. From now till June, she was very present in my growing belly and in our arms for those 6, all to quick, days. Monday, this was my bittersweet reminder of what I am missing. I wanted badly to take amazing trips with Avery and share the world with her but that was taken from me. And as I started to let my mind wander to all that Avery (and I) were missing out on, I thought back to all that she did get to experience. 

Before I knew I was pregnant, I spent a long weekend in NYC visiting my former college roommate and one of my absolute best friends, Sarah. And while I didn't know it until a few days after I arrived home, Avery was with me for that trip.  She was around 4 weeks at the time and got to experience all of NYC as a little gummy bear.

Avery got to experience Times Square, a Broadway show, the Statue of Liberty, Rockefeller Center, Central Park, Macy's, lots of amazing food and lots of great shopping. She flew on a plane. She rode in a NYC taxi and the subway. And that is not all she was able to do while she was with us. 

Avery went on boat rides, saw beautiful sunsets, went to the beach, the spa, the movies. She visited the Keys twice. She went shopping, had amazing fondue, heard Christmas music and experienced a Thanksgiving dinner. She went to work with me and cuddled up with her Daddy and I on the couch. 

She spent 9 months and 6 days knowing nothing but love. True, unconditional, never ending love. I didn't get to show her the beautiful sights of the world, but she has now seen more than I ever will in this life. And through her brief life she has shown and taught me so much more about life than I ever thought possible.

Life isn't how I planned but now it's all about perspective

and how I choose to live the life I have been given. And I will continue to do so in a way to make both of my daughters proud.  

Unplugging

From the title of this post one may assume the subject matter will be about how we need to utilize technology less, put down our phones, live life, etc, etc. and while I do agree with those statements, that's not what this is about. Well, actually it is but not in the sense most would think. This post is about my safety blanket, my peace of mind, my angel care monitor. 

If you aren't a new parent or you haven't lost a baby to SIDS you may be thinking, "angel care monitor, what is that?" So I will fill you in. 

The angel care monitor is a baby monitor. It connects my bedroom with Harper's. When she cries, I can hear her.  This lovely device also has video. So, not only can I hear her when she cries but I can see her too. I can watch her playing, sleeping or losing her mind if I take to long to go to her room. So why is this monitor so great? The big selling point for me wasn't these features. Let's be honest, there are a million other monitors with those features (and better cameras) but what this monitor has that others don't is a movement sensor. These is a sensor under Harper's mattress that senses her breathing. If it doesn't detect movement, it alarms me to check on her. And on the monitor in my room I can lay and watch the little pendulum swing with each breath. I can literally watch her breathing. 

This machine has given me restful sleep, something I didn't think would ever be possible after losing Avery. That is until recently. Lately, my sweet, little, innocent Harper has decided she will sleep great but keep me up. She now likes to do a sleep crawl around her bed at night. She loves to squash herself up in the corner in a tiny ball, knees tucked under her. Cute yes, problematic for me, yes. The problem with this is, her chest is raised off the bed and she's as far away from the sensor as she can get. Needless to say, Harper is giving us multiple false alarms every night lately. And by multiple, I mean like 6+. 

My once loved peace of mind monitor is now doing the opposite and keeping me up. One would think the easy solution would be to stop using the sensor. And yes, that would be the easy thing to do but my life is no longer easy and I can't. I have this completely irrational fear that the first time I try to let her sleep all night without it something will happen and she will stop breathing and I won't know. I won't know until it's too late and I will have to relive that horrible nightmare all over again. 

Irrational, yes. But can anyone tell me without a doubt that will not happen, no. And because of that I cannot simply unplug the damn thing like I would love to. I would love to be a normal mom. Once who doesn't have the crazy woman monitor in her baby's room. One that doesn't have to see the pendulum swinging every time she wakes up at night. One who just does a peek in to check on their baby. Not the one who absolutely cannot sleep without a machine telling her it's all ok. 

When you lose a child, rational thoughts seem to go out the window. Your paranoia increases a million times more than the normal parents. Nothing is as easy as just simply unplugging that sensor.  The sad thing is when it does sound, I'm numb to it. I'm not even afraid that something is wrong. So why can't I pull the plug?!?!?

I'm addicted to this piece of machine. I can't let it go. I can't sleep without it and if I try, I'm paranoid and I end up turning it back in and falling into the old routine. Just a few more weeks I keep telling myself. Once she hits one and the SIDS risk diminishes. Once she hits one.  Until then, I guess I'll just wait for the inevitable false alarm. Back to living on a few hours of sleep and lots of caffeine I guess. 

Christmas is coming

I've been waiting for the day when I could send out cute photo Christmas cards. When we first got married, it was just us and let's be real, nobody wants a card with pictures of a newlywed twenty something couple on it. So we waited. Then Avery was coming and I looked forward to Christmas and getting her all dolled up for Christmas cards. Her first Christmas she would have been 6 months old. I had the cards all laid out in my head. Those cards never happened. Nothing I had planned happened. So I gave up on the perfect Christmas card idea. 

That was until Harper came. I've been looking forward to her first Christmas. She's almost 11 months and is so much fun. We spent a cool November morning at a Christmas tree farm taking pictures for our cards. I planned to bring the Avery best with us, but it was wet and a hike through long, wet grass to get to the photo spot. In fear of getting the best dirty, I left her in the car. It wasn't a big deal at the time. I planned to take some pictures at home for Christmas with Harper and the Avery bear. But once we received out pictures back of Harper my heart broke. 

I hate that I have 2 beautiful girls but only one gets to be smiling in our pictures. I took some of Harper and the Avery bear in front of our tree, but it's not the same. It's never going to be the same and it's never going to be what I want. Never. 

My next dilemma can when it came time to make those perfect little Christmas cards I've been picturing since we got married. I had the oictures, even if they weren't how I imagined, both girls had representation. I found a cute design, picked the pictures to be used but then stopped when it came time to sign them. Do I include Avery and risk people thinking I'm absolutely weird for including my dead daughter? Oh do I leave her off and add another huge crack to my already overly scarred heart? I chose the later. 

I picked up the cards this week and thy really do look great. It just still breaks my heart that she's not there, sitting next to Harper, smiling, posing and hamming it up like her little sister. I'm sure I'll go through this same heartache very year. Maybe one day it will get easier. But this year, it still sucks. 

In so many ways Harper has helped heal our hearts but there are equally so many times where having her here and getting to experience things as parents is an ever present reminder of our missing piece. 

To be honest, I thought I was ready for Christmas but really, I'm ready for it to be over. 

Tomorrow makes 2.5 years since we lost her. 2.5 long and painful years and tonight I just can't keep it together. Can someone please push fast forward and get me past this month?