This morning I woke up cradling Evangeline's blanket in my arm, holding it tightly to my chest. I kept my eyes closed for a good ten minutes and just took in how good it felt to have something that was hers in my arms. I rubbed it against my cheek, took in its smell, and held it as close to my heart as possible.
After some time I realized something... I wasn't holding her blanket when I went to sleep the night before... It was sitting at the end of the bed when I fell asleep. How did it end up in my arms? Just as I thought those words I heard my sweet four year old whisper "I'm going to go pat mommy's arm again." And as my eyes were still closed I could hear her creep over to my side of the bed and she gently patted the arm that was cradling Evangeline's blanket. I opened my eyes, said good morning to her and gave her a kiss. She said "Mommy, I gave you blankie rainbow to hold."
My sweet four year old woke up before me, gave me the blanket to cuddle with and allowed me to keep sleeping. Her thoughtfulness is so beautiful. Not only did she know how much it means for me to hold that blanket, she quietly watched me sleep for some time without trying to get me up. For once I was able to crawl out of bed with a hint of a smile on my face and a sprinkle of joy in my heart.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Monday, August 26, 2013
Yet?
"Are you pregnant yet? Oh, don't worry you'll have another baby."
What? Did you really just ask me that? We would like to eventually have another child, but here are a few tips:
1. Yet? You do realize I just gave birth to my dead daughter 3.5 months ago, right? And you say yet? Like it's just that easy... Props for expecting me to get pregnant that soon after giving birth. Ever stop to think that maybe we're still grieving?
2. It is none of your business when we decide to have another child, so don't ask. And by asking, you just blew your chance of me confiding in you out the window.
3. Maybe doctors have timelines about how long to wait after giving birth for a reason.
4. Having another baby will be nice, BUT it certainly won't fix things. A new baby will never replace our daughter we lost. We will always grieve for Evangeline... No matter how many children we end up having, we will always have a little girl missing... A little girl who should be playing right along with her siblings... So getting pregnant again is not the cure all I think you are expecting it to be for me.
What? Did you really just ask me that? We would like to eventually have another child, but here are a few tips:
1. Yet? You do realize I just gave birth to my dead daughter 3.5 months ago, right? And you say yet? Like it's just that easy... Props for expecting me to get pregnant that soon after giving birth. Ever stop to think that maybe we're still grieving?
2. It is none of your business when we decide to have another child, so don't ask. And by asking, you just blew your chance of me confiding in you out the window.
3. Maybe doctors have timelines about how long to wait after giving birth for a reason.
4. Having another baby will be nice, BUT it certainly won't fix things. A new baby will never replace our daughter we lost. We will always grieve for Evangeline... No matter how many children we end up having, we will always have a little girl missing... A little girl who should be playing right along with her siblings... So getting pregnant again is not the cure all I think you are expecting it to be for me.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
No comparison
"I can guarantee you, your life is better than 99% of the people out there."
Newsflash: these words are NOT comforting.
Yes, I am well aware that there are people worse off than me in life. But guess what, that does NOT take away from my pain. My heart goes out to anyone who does have it worse than me, but that doesn't mean that I shouldn't cry or grieve when I need to. I shouldn't be made to feel like I need to get over it because my life is better than 99% of the people out there.
Everyone has their own troubles in life, but we are not on this earth to compare who has it worse. Why should we compare pain? Why should we compare whether losing a child is better or worse than dying of cancer or living in a war zone? Each situation is terrible in its own way. There is no reason to compare. And even situations that are similar are completely different... my grief journey for my child is completely different than another bereaved parent's grief journey for their child. No need to compare.
So please, if I'm having a hard day and feel the need to cry, don't make me feel like I need to get over it... A simple "I'm sorry you are hurting" or just a hug would help and acknowledge my feelings, even if you think I just need to move on.
Newsflash: these words are NOT comforting.
Yes, I am well aware that there are people worse off than me in life. But guess what, that does NOT take away from my pain. My heart goes out to anyone who does have it worse than me, but that doesn't mean that I shouldn't cry or grieve when I need to. I shouldn't be made to feel like I need to get over it because my life is better than 99% of the people out there.
Everyone has their own troubles in life, but we are not on this earth to compare who has it worse. Why should we compare pain? Why should we compare whether losing a child is better or worse than dying of cancer or living in a war zone? Each situation is terrible in its own way. There is no reason to compare. And even situations that are similar are completely different... my grief journey for my child is completely different than another bereaved parent's grief journey for their child. No need to compare.
So please, if I'm having a hard day and feel the need to cry, don't make me feel like I need to get over it... A simple "I'm sorry you are hurting" or just a hug would help and acknowledge my feelings, even if you think I just need to move on.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Do I hate babies?
"Why do you hate babies so much? It's starting to piss me off. If anything you SHOULD be oohing and aahing over babies." Ouch, that stung.
That's what someone really close to me, who I thought might understand me, said yesterday when I was venting about babies around me.
No, no I shouldn't. Who the hell are you to tell me how I should be feeling anyway? If that baby is not MY baby, I should not be made to feel like I have to be oohing and aahing over them. As life goes on people will continue to ooh and aah over those other babies anyway.... Nobody ever oohed and aahed over MY baby, so why should I be made to feel as though in my time of despair I need to do that for others?
I want MY baby. I want to hold and play with and love on MY baby... And if I can't do that with MY baby, then seeing other babies makes my heart hurt.
Do I want those other mothers to be in my shoes? Heavens no. I would never wish this on anyone... But that doesn't mean I don't want what they have too. It doesn't mean I am not happy for them... Yes, I am happy for them, but more often than not, my own sadness, and hurt for my daughter outweighs the happiness I have for them.
So I use a defense mechanism...
When I think or say things like "that lady had her stupid baby crying at the register" or "at least my daughter doesn't have an ugly name like George/North West/etc..." I'm not saying it because I hate babies, or think they're ugly or stupid (I do still think little babies are cute). I would never say anything hurtful to someone's face about their baby and really I don't even mean the things I think... I'm merely thinking it to make myself feel better. I'm saying it because babies trigger my sadness and somehow I want to make myself feel as though they're not any better than my daughter who isn't here... Because that's generally the feeling I get... That my baby isn't as important because she isn't here.... Nobody gets to ooh and aah over her, or take pictures with her, or ask to hold her, or marvel over how big she is getting, etc.
So yea, thinking those things to myself may not be the kindest things to think, but if it's the only thing to make the sting of my baby being dead hurt a little less right now, don't crucify me for it.
That's what someone really close to me, who I thought might understand me, said yesterday when I was venting about babies around me.
No, no I shouldn't. Who the hell are you to tell me how I should be feeling anyway? If that baby is not MY baby, I should not be made to feel like I have to be oohing and aahing over them. As life goes on people will continue to ooh and aah over those other babies anyway.... Nobody ever oohed and aahed over MY baby, so why should I be made to feel as though in my time of despair I need to do that for others?
I want MY baby. I want to hold and play with and love on MY baby... And if I can't do that with MY baby, then seeing other babies makes my heart hurt.
Do I want those other mothers to be in my shoes? Heavens no. I would never wish this on anyone... But that doesn't mean I don't want what they have too. It doesn't mean I am not happy for them... Yes, I am happy for them, but more often than not, my own sadness, and hurt for my daughter outweighs the happiness I have for them.
So I use a defense mechanism...
When I think or say things like "that lady had her stupid baby crying at the register" or "at least my daughter doesn't have an ugly name like George/North West/etc..." I'm not saying it because I hate babies, or think they're ugly or stupid (I do still think little babies are cute). I would never say anything hurtful to someone's face about their baby and really I don't even mean the things I think... I'm merely thinking it to make myself feel better. I'm saying it because babies trigger my sadness and somehow I want to make myself feel as though they're not any better than my daughter who isn't here... Because that's generally the feeling I get... That my baby isn't as important because she isn't here.... Nobody gets to ooh and aah over her, or take pictures with her, or ask to hold her, or marvel over how big she is getting, etc.
So yea, thinking those things to myself may not be the kindest things to think, but if it's the only thing to make the sting of my baby being dead hurt a little less right now, don't crucify me for it.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Pink toenails
A few days before Evangeline was born Mariah and I pretended to be princesses and put makeup on and painted our toenails hot pink. I knew we only had a few weeks left until we had our baby and figured Mariah and I may not get a chance to enjoy moments like that as much, with a crying baby and all.... So I soaked up the moment.
After Evangeline was born sleeping, I remember staring down at my hot pink toenails sticking out from the blankets in my hospital bed. In the less than 24 hours we stayed at the hospital, I stared at my toes numerous times. It was easier to focus on the vibrant, happy pink nail polish than it was to face the questions from nurses, and the reality that my baby was born but not alive.
It's been over three months and I have not yet repainted my toenails. At this point there is very little pink left on the tips of my toenails... After all toenails grow significantly in three months... But I refuse to use nail polish remover on them or paint over them... That pink nail polish helped me get through the hardest day of my life and I can't erase it.
Soon however, there will no longer be anymore hot pink nail polish left on my toes and it will just be another reminder of how excruciatingly long it has been since I got to hold my beautiful baby girl.
After Evangeline was born sleeping, I remember staring down at my hot pink toenails sticking out from the blankets in my hospital bed. In the less than 24 hours we stayed at the hospital, I stared at my toes numerous times. It was easier to focus on the vibrant, happy pink nail polish than it was to face the questions from nurses, and the reality that my baby was born but not alive.
It's been over three months and I have not yet repainted my toenails. At this point there is very little pink left on the tips of my toenails... After all toenails grow significantly in three months... But I refuse to use nail polish remover on them or paint over them... That pink nail polish helped me get through the hardest day of my life and I can't erase it.
Soon however, there will no longer be anymore hot pink nail polish left on my toes and it will just be another reminder of how excruciatingly long it has been since I got to hold my beautiful baby girl.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
3 months
Dear Evangeline,
Today you would be three months old. I just wanted to tell you how very sorry I am that you are not here. I'm sorry that I couldn't safely bring you into this world. I'm sorry I didn't make a bigger deal out of you not moving much. I'm sorry I didn't get another ultrasound so they would have seen what was going on. I'm so sorry I let you down.
I wish I got to wake up to your sweet face this morning. At three months old you would be doing so many new things everyday. I'm so sad that you never got the chance to open your eyes and look at your mommy, daddy and big sister who love you so much. You never got a chance to coo, smile or giggle... The things that show our happiness in life. I hope you at least were happy and content while you were alive in my tummy.
I hope you understand that I would have done anything to have you here. I just never in a million years thought it would end up this way... Everyone made my pregnancy seem so perfect and nobody voiced any concerns... So I just thought everything was normal, even with your not so frequent movement.... Nothing bad would ever happen. I'm so sorry I was wrong. I would trade places with you in a heartbeat. I at least got 27 years on earth, you didn't get one minute... Not one minute for you to experience the world and not one minute for the world to experience your beautiful presence. Those of us who held you, and loved on you got to experience the beauty you brought into this world, but I wish the whole world could've experienced it too.
I miss you so much it hurts. Everyday it hurts. My heart aches without you here.
Love you forever,
Mommy
Today you would be three months old. I just wanted to tell you how very sorry I am that you are not here. I'm sorry that I couldn't safely bring you into this world. I'm sorry I didn't make a bigger deal out of you not moving much. I'm sorry I didn't get another ultrasound so they would have seen what was going on. I'm so sorry I let you down.
I wish I got to wake up to your sweet face this morning. At three months old you would be doing so many new things everyday. I'm so sad that you never got the chance to open your eyes and look at your mommy, daddy and big sister who love you so much. You never got a chance to coo, smile or giggle... The things that show our happiness in life. I hope you at least were happy and content while you were alive in my tummy.
I hope you understand that I would have done anything to have you here. I just never in a million years thought it would end up this way... Everyone made my pregnancy seem so perfect and nobody voiced any concerns... So I just thought everything was normal, even with your not so frequent movement.... Nothing bad would ever happen. I'm so sorry I was wrong. I would trade places with you in a heartbeat. I at least got 27 years on earth, you didn't get one minute... Not one minute for you to experience the world and not one minute for the world to experience your beautiful presence. Those of us who held you, and loved on you got to experience the beauty you brought into this world, but I wish the whole world could've experienced it too.
I miss you so much it hurts. Everyday it hurts. My heart aches without you here.
Love you forever,
Mommy
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