She lights up my life

Today I attended a beautiful poetry gathering, to remember many dearly missed babies. At the front of the gathering there were 156 candles burning brightly to honor the short but precious lives of these special babies. A candle with Evangeline's name on it burned brightly nestled among the others.

At the end of the gathering it was announced that if one of the candles was for your child you could take it with you. I scooped up Evangeline's candle and held it close. Everyone else was blowing out their candles and taking them on their way, while I took hers back to my seat still burning.

I did not want to blow out the flame. The flicker from that candle meant far more to me than I had anticipated... Blowing out any ordinary candle is no big deal, but to me this flame was a special light brought into this earth because of my sweet daughter. Without Evangeline that candle would not have been lit. And so to extinguish that flicker, to blow out that flame was more difficult than I had imagined. So I sat there holding her candle, watching the flame burn brightly. Then, as a peace finally came over me, I was able to blow out the candle, knowing that it was not the only light that she has blessed us with, and that we will experience many more flickers of light because of her.

Marching in

March is upon us and in all honesty it has me terrified. March means that the month of May isn't too far away and I have no idea how the world has continued to turn these last 10 months. How has it been nearly 10 months since I lost my daughter? How does the world keep spinning without her in it? It is nice to see my friends babies grow and thrive but I'd be lying if I said I didn't have one hint of jealousy. In a way it pains me to see their happy, growing babies because my daughter should be doing all of those things now too. I just want to show pictures of her growing up like everyone else gets to do for their baby. But I'll never have that for Evangeline.

I should be planning her first birthday. I'm sure it would've been a magical day. But instead I get to try to plan her first birthday without her here.... What can I do to honor her? Will the small things I am able to do for her on her special day ever be enough for me to feel like her birthday was exactly what it should be? I'm afraid not.... No matter how special we make her day, no matter what memories are made it will never be exactly how it should be... Because she is not here to enjoy it.

I'm scared for May to come upon us. I used to love the month of May... The spring air, the flowers in bloom, birds chirping and my birthday sure made it a pleasant month. Now it's a marker of the most difficult month of my life. The reality that May doesn't just bring new life, it also takes life too. That's a hard reality to come to terms with. I am worried about Evangeline's birthday.... Will I be strong enough to celebrate her rather than wallow in sorrow? I hope so. But I think I'm more worried about my own birthday two days after hers. Last year my birthday really didn't matter to me. I didn't care that I was a year older or that people wished me a nice day, it didn't matter anymore. And I'm afraid that I'll always feel that way. How do I have a happy birthday? Because the birthday in May that matters more than my own birthday will never truly be the happy birthday it should be.

Someday

Heaven seems so far away,
But I'll make it there someday.
Just to hold you in my arms again
Will be more than worth the wait.
I wonder what you're doing
In that castle in the sky.
The days without you are very hard
But for you each day I try.
I try my best to honor your memory
And keep you close to mind,
I think of you each and every day
In all of the beauty that I find.
I still miss you in each day that passes,
But I remind myself in the end,
Each day is a day closer
To when we meet again.
Heaven seems so far away
But I'll make it there someday.
Just to hold you in my arms again
Will be more than worth the wait.

Love,

Mommy

An ocean of grief

I feel like I've been in a shipwreck in the middle of the ocean.  It's as though I was enjoying a trip at sea over eight months ago when all of a sudden a violent storm came crashing in and pummeled the boat. In the days following I needed to find something to keep me afloat. Little pieces of hope, people throwing me lifelines were the only things that could save me.

Eight months later I have days where I feel like I'm peacefully floating on a raft and there are bits of sunshine that peek out from behind the clouds. I try to soak up the sun and tell myself that there is a world of sunshine to enjoy and maybe I'll eventually find my way back to land... back to the world I knew before.

But there are still very dark days too. There are days when I feel like my raft is gone, and I've struggled for far too long to stay afloat. I fight and fight but I'm too weak and am beginning to drown. I pray for something, someone to pull me back up as I'm slowly sinking beneath the water... My lungs starting to fill with water.  I need to find a way out of the depths of the ocean. Today is one of those days.

Eight months

Dear Evangeline,

This month you would've turned 8 months old.... Eight month old babies are crawling, babbling, eating finger foods and have developed little personalities... And all I can remember you as is the innocent little newborn who never had a chance to take a breath of air in this world. I'm still so sad that you are missing out on everything I ever imagined for you.

But I want you to know that as much as I am sad that you are missing out on so much, I am still so proud of you. I am so proud to be your mama and I know that you must've fought so hard to stay with us... I just wish we would've known that you were struggling and we could've done something to save you. I would've done anything to have you here with us.

The days haven't really gotten any easier without you here... I've just come to the realization that I'm forced to live without you here, so I try my best to face each day as best I can. I still miss you so much everyday... My heart will always ache for you.

How I wish I could hold you in my arms again and kiss your sweet head. Please visit me in my dreams. I love you so much, beautiful girl.

Love you forever,

Mommy

Mariah's new playroom

Today I finally transformed the yellow room upstairs from Evangeline's room into Mariah's playroom. I carefully boxed up all of Evangeline's belongings that were laying inside the crib, put all of the bedding into a bag, and dismantled the crib. I cried as I looked through her things, and again as I took each piece of the crib apart knowing that it didn't need to be used.

It was so incredibly hard but I know it was the right thing to do. Mariah's kitchen set and easel sat in our garage the last year because we didn't have anywhere in the house to put them. Evangeline's room has been empty and I knew that by putting toys in there Mariah hasn't been able to play with would bring a little bit of joy back into that room. I left the rocking chair in there because I know I'll still use that room for my quiet time and to think of Evangeline, but at least the room will be used for more than just that now.

Ryan questioned it and said "why are you taking it down when we'll probably just end up putting it right back up?" And believe me, I hope that's the case, but right now we have at least another 9 months before we'll need a crib up there because we aren't even pregnant yet, so at least the room will be of use for now. And maybe not having the crib there will help a little... Trying to conceive after our heartbreaking loss is very stressful and I'm hoping this will help ease the pain of having an empty room... Although I know my heart will always ache for all of the hopes and dreams I imagined for that room.

Defeated

Last year on Mariah's 4th birthday we did all kinds of fun things, and we also went to a 20 week ultrasound to see her sibling. I thought that a few short months from then Mariah would be playing at home with her baby sister. This year for Mariah's birthday we are farther away from that goal of her having a sibling at home to play with than we ever could have imagined. How is this even possible?!  No 8 month old baby crawling around our house giggling, and we're not even at least pregnant like last year.

To be comepletely honest, I am incredibly discouraged. Every day is hard to face knowing that we are nowhere near where I thought we would be. I am at my breaking point. I am ready to throw in the towel, rip out my uterus and say "screw it, I'm done with all of the heartache." I feel beaten down and defeated.