loss.. and life after

 Sometimes I miss you so much it steals my breath. It makes my heart beat so hard that I swear people nearby can see it beating from my chest. I once compared grief to spilling cold soup in your lap. You feel like you can't fix it, can't change it, and can't just walk away. Some grief is that way. But this, this is the kind of pain that picks at your bones relentlessly. You can feel it stealing away who you are inside just a little more every day as you try to pretend you are entirely fine.

Fine. Fine.

There is no such thing as ever being O.K again when you house this kind of pain inside of you. The pain you cannot escape from because even when you sleep it sneaks up on you and whispers in your ear.

Loss.

the pain of loss

The pain that settles in your bones when your heart is missing an integral piece that makes up the person you are.

You never feel whole again from that moment.

It's always there.

Sometimes though you let it boil over, like an overinflated balloon. It screams to be let out, loosened, set fee. 

The tears spill to the surface, they spill over your face like rain a summer storm and wash away any hope you had of ever feeling normal again.

Sometimes in those moments you allow yourself to see what could have, should have, or might have become,  if only...

if only...

 Haunting thoughts and words for anyone that has ever suffered loss.

 If only I.. 

my thoughts began and that was enough to open flood gates I wasn't able to contain the rush I had been trying to protecting myself against.  I was blindsided.

 Grief does that sometimes. It hits you like a freight train out of nowhere and there isn't a thing you can do to save yourself.

August is hard. 

because I miss you and who you might have been. 

I was standing there raw in my grief, as if it hadn't been 19 years.  As if It was a fresh wound still pouring forth blood and rage and fear.

In some ways it is always fresh. You don't breath a moment without loss reminding you it there. It may not bubble to the surface frequently but it is always there, just waiting for the wound to open and bleed hot, fresh, and viscous over everything surrounding you.

I have always been embarrassed by my grief for you. I am sorry for that. 

I carry the burden of you alone.

if only. ( there it is again )

 I am embarrassed by all of the pain this body and heart holds. It isn't just you.

I have run from the grief many times, wrapping myself in a blanket of logic and excuse. I tried to run from it this time, but you know me too well.

I tripped.

Literally, tripped.

I caught myself and looked to find what had tripped me intending to pick it up and throw it into the ocean for daring to stop me. What I saw stole all the air from my lungs. You ...

the reminders I see when I miss you the most.

a single heart.

sometimes you surprise me in a flower petal, or a misshapen cookie, a cloud, or a spill. Reminding me that you are still in heaven waiting... you got the better end of the deal my love. If you ask me.

and there you were.

I may have never been able to hug you, but in moments like these I am sure you are hugging me

Every moment

make no mistakes

 I am not saying that  we should not or cannot complain when we are upset and stressed. I am not saying that we don't all have the right to cry, and be upset at some of the hands given.

But, every single moment in life has a purpose, a value.

With every pregnancy after loosing Emma I would panic from week 14 to week 15. Somewhere in that week is when my sweet girl passed. I would wake in cold sweats, my heart racing inside my chest so hard that I felt my ribs could break at any moment.

I lost my mind when I discovered that Evangeline's due date was a mere 10 days from Emma's. It was too close. I was convinced the pain would find me again. I was panicked and frightened.  I was also clinically depressed , one might think.

Evangeline's birth provided me with closure I hadn't expected , but because God is bigger than my fears, I was able to feel safety again.

Then the healing began. It took the tragic loss of someone else to bring me to a point where I was able to heal and not feel so broken inside my heart.
Seeing that moment in my mind's eye and knowing my sweet girl is safe and waiting healed the deepest places inside of me.

That doesn't mean that I don't miss her, or that I don't think of her all the time. What it means is that it is no longer a chain around my neck.

I cruised through week 14 this time. One dream of my sweet girl. Holding hands on the dock sitting quietly.
The healing continues for sure.

This time, it's different for me.I am grateful for every moment,kick, and heart beat this little baby growing in me has.

So much is the life around us. The person-hood of everyone around us. The unique and irreplaceable soul that God gave all of us.  The sick, the young, the old, the afflicted, the perfect... those dying with terminal illness. they all have a unique place in this world. Every moment of every life. Every single one. Even the ugly moments that hurt.

Sometimes Healing Comes in Strange Places

Loosing  a Child

That phrase upsets me. I didn't LOOSE her. I know exactly where she is. I know she is safe and loved and comforted. I know she is waiting and I will see her again someday. I know Mary is watching over her until I can wrap her in my arms.

I hate the phrase
LOOSING a baby.
as though it were a tissue. or a shoe. or a set of keys.

babies aren't lost
You do not misplace them or forget where you had them last.

They are babies.
And when they pass before we hold them, or while we hold them, or after we have held them they aren't LOST

they are found.
In the arms of Mary. Held and safe and loved.


Because my heart cannot bear to think of any baby being LOST.

My sweet girl is not lost. She is Held.
as am I.
as we all are.

A moment of healing came in the few weeks past that I had not expected. Healing through the pain of another mother with aching arms. It never seems fair.

Sometimes I wonder if there is something wrong with me because after all this time I still grieve the space without her. I often think of how old she would be, what she would be like, and who she would become.
Some people just move on. right?
Sometimes I wonder why I cannot.or rather have not completely.

But these past few weeks have been different. I will miss her forever and will not be complete until I get to hold her in my arms.
I never did get to hold her in my arms.
I was so young. so alone. so confused. and so in denial.

For that Sweet Emma, I am forever sorry.

But I know she is held. I know she is loved. and I know she is waiting and it would seem after a brief moment the other day. that she has some friends as well.

peace comes in crazy places.

Bittersweet

Let me very clear. I am proud of Sammy and who he has become. I am amazed by Sammy and everything he is. I love him so much that it hurts to try and quantify it.

But it is often hard. It is usually a challenge. It is always just a little extra effort.

It's Sammy.

My rainbow boy.
The boy who smiles from inside out even if he doesn't ever smile back at me. He loves to hug me these days and always asks "Why do you smell so good there Mommy?"  He tells me now that he has big feelings. He cries from sadness now as well. It isn't just angry and happy. But , he still has some of the most annoying stims (currently a screech), he calls names when he gets even a little bit angry, and he hits. He makes me so angry sometimes that I want to run away from home. Just take the itty bitty and go far far away. But to think about life without him makes my eyes burn and my throat catch. He is after all my rainbow baby ...right?

He has taught me so many incredible things. Far more than I have taught him. He frustrates me beyond belief and makes me so very proud every day.
Some days, like today, it's hard to breath. The weight of life with Sam  can often feel like falling into an endless hole filled with jello.
Green Jello.
My Nemesis.

What is the alternative though?
Life without? I know what that is like to some degree. I don't have my Emma with me.

Sam Blowing out the candles

So my Darling Rainbow Boy,
Please know I love you with all that I am. Every moment. Every breath. Every second of every single day. Forgive me for the tears that fall because sometimes the bittersweet of it all is just too much to hold inside.

Emma's angel Dan Bought in 2010 for me

My Dearest Emma,
Please know that even though i spend the day laughing and celebrating you are also so very close to my heart. Know That I love you as well, though I never held you in my arms. There will always be empty space where your hand belong in mine, silence where your name belongs on my lips, and longing in my arms for you.

Happy Birthday My Sunshine Boy Sam and Dearest Emma.
today we celebrate all that you are.

When Your Rainbow Baby Brings a Storm

For those of you that don't know what a rainbow baby is.

A "rainbow baby" is a baby that is born following a miscarriage or still birth.

In the real world, a beautiful and bright rainbow follows a storm and gives hope of things getting better. The rainbow is more appreciated having just experienced the storm in comparison.

The storm (pregnancy loss) has already happened and nothing can change that experience. Storm-clouds might still be overhead as the family continue to cope with the loss, but something colorful and bright has emerged from the darkness and misery.

"We lost our last pregnancy, but now we have a rainbow baby."

~Urban Dictionary~

Sammy was my rainbow baby though I had never heard that phrase before. Rainbow babies are supposed to bring closure and joy and peace. He brought those things simply because he was a baby. He was born during an extremely tumultuous time in my life. there wasn't much peace about me. I also had not come to terms yet with Loosing Emma and so I never felt that relief other people might have. It doesn't help either that I lost Emma on the same day that Samuel was born.

Sam is a thunder storm in the making. He rumbles like thunder in the distance and often strikes like lightning. The storm rages in him some days as he rumbles by. It's over almost before it began.
No amount of discipline will ever change that. Nothing I can do controls the storm in him. He is simply, himself.

He has been particularly difficult this summer. Part hormones and part dis-regulation. He has been next to impossible.We are waiting for a therapist for him. I can't help but love this kid though Freak outs and all. It can get ugly here. As bad as it can be, he still hugs me and snuggles in. He squeezes me tight and asks why I smell so good. He also calls me names when he is angry. It can be maddening. While I can't change the autistic parts of him (and honestly I am not sure I would if I could) I do wish it was easier for him. I do wish life wasn't so much work for him. I do wish he was happier in his own skin. I spend hours up at night worried about the choices we make. Until you have had your own Special Needs child you can't possible understand what it is like to parent one, worry about one, love one, fear one and settle one.

He was supposed to be my rainbow baby. So what do you do when your Rainbow baby also brings a storm of his own?

Blessings

I want to write about my heart and my longing for Emma. Knowing it's been so long since my body held hers, so long since she was a part of me physically, makes it difficult not to. I feel like not placing those words down does her a disservice, like I am somehow negating her existence. Right now, I just can't put the words in place. I am simply having an "I Miss Emma" kind of day. I need to keep this inside for now, baby this feeling, feel it completely...alone. I may write on it soon, I may never write on it, and that has to be OK.

Today I am focusing on my blessings, the many wonderful blessings I have in my life. I think Emma would have liked that as well.

Sammy turned 8 yesterday and we went out to dinner. We had the most amazing time. Everyone behaved and not one meltdown was had (not even my own). He chose the place with the peanuts, after being talked out of Taco Bell. I was able to relax and enjoy our family and celebrate a wonderful day. Sam really wanted to sit on the saddle and have everyone say happy birthday! It was all he talked about all dinner long. After explaining that they wait until your done eating (mistake) he decided he was done. We did convince him to eat just a little more though.

Daniel has been struggling with major leg pain for a few months now. His blood work showed a few issues and we assumed he had Lyme. He took the meds and still did not get better. We started to fear the worst. We worried that he may have a tumor that was causing swelling and pain. After an MRI we have just been told he tore a tendon! OUCH. While this is certainly painful, it's not cancer.

My AJ, just started soccer for High School...so much for the kid who had a hard time learning to walk!
Tyler goes into his senior year.
Nate has discovered a passion to learn everything he can.
Grace can sign so many words...good, thank you, thirsty, done, dog, shoes, cookie, help, more, hair, eat and water. She loves to talk and seems to really understand everything.
This is week 13 with squish. the next few weeks are going to be really hard to get through. I am trying to enjoy each day I have squish with me.
And, while I could be just sad and heartbroken that Emma is not here in my arms, she is my heart. She was a part of my body for 14.5 weeks and she will be part of my heart forever. I pray she knows me when we meet in heaven, because I will be looking for her

Truly....Madly...Deeply

I am dealing with some very personal and emotional stuff right now and it is really hard for me. I keep trying to stuff it and go past it, but I can't. What has worked in the past does not work now and as a result I am struggling to tread water. I figured I would put it here in the hoped that writing it down will ease it somehow. I am so afraid I will regret this.

I can usually get by during this time because nothing MAJOR triggers it. This is different, because just the time line triggers it.

I lost a baby at 14.5 weeks. I know I have talked about Emma here before. I always hesitate because I don't want people judging my grief. I don't want to be a downer in the group.
I understand its been a long time. I understand it was "only" 14.5 weeks. I know so many that dealt with it being far far worse. Far more...tangible.
This wasn't tangible. I barely even acknowledged it then, I couldn't. It's something I truly, deeply, and unquestionably regret. It took me years to even fully acknowledge loosing her on August 22, 2001.
Some may realize that is Sam's birthday with just an earlier year. He came in 2004.
This year on his birthday I will be 13 weeks pregnant with this little squish. Emma's due date and Squish's are just weeks apart, and it's driving me mad.

Months ago I entered a contest on The Blog here and apparently I won. I had forgotten I entered. I received a beautiful comfort bear and a book (which is going to be a blessing for someone else) from them. It's funny how much the big white bear comforted me.

Then I read this story and I can't breath. 

An old friend of mine just lost a baby and my heart breaks for her.

I am surrounded by it. I can't run away this time so I guess I am going to trudge through it. Just please God, don't let this baby come on her due date. I can't do that, please.
I keep panicking that squish is gone too.I can't get control of myself. I feel crazy.

I obviously have to deal with this. I just don't want to. I worry that people will judge my grief. That they won't or don't understand. Let's be honest here. I don't even understand.

Long Way Home

The past few weeks I have become particularly sensitive to losses. There was an anniversary and a birthday of a wonderful man who was killed 4 years ago. I was blessed with the opportunity to read about a deeply personal moment frozen in time for a dear friend. I listened to an interview with Steven Curtis Chapman talking about the loss of his daughter. Little Avery passed away and it has all had a profound effect on me.

There is nothing you can say in those moments. There is no real tangible comfort is there? I lost my Emma when I was only 14.5 weeks pregnant and sometimes I feel alone. I feel like I can't relate to people who have had real tragedies. My Emma is real only to me, because she never took a breath, because I never held her. Sometimes it feels like she was never really here. People have said horrid things because to them miscarriage isn't a real loss. Whatever the reason I feel that way doesn't matter. It's how I feel. Some people meaning well say "everything happens for a reason" and "god doesn't give you more than you can handle" I always feel angry when I hear that. I don't think everything happens for a reason BUT I do think that God can use ANYTHING for his glory.

Hearing about those other losses always brings me to a thoughtful place. A few years ago that place was very dark and scary, but not too long ago I had a dream I was sitting beside Emma and holding her hand. It was peaceful and somehow I was able to hold onto those feelings of peace when I think of her. But losses such as the ones I have seen lately bring me to another place.

I talk all the time about the deep sense of loss I felt when Sammy was diagnosed. I have even spoken of the sense of loss I felt over Grace's injury. But Avery really got me thinking.
Even when we KNOW our time is limited (as all of our moments are) we still assume there will be more. You are never ready to let go of a loved one. How unfair it all seems sometimes doesn't it?

Avery's mom and dad thought they had more time. So did I. So did my friends. I am sure so many of you did as well.

We never know when our time is up. I look at Sammy and I think about all the time I have spent forgetting to just live.  I worry all the time. The shock of little Avery passing so soon has me really prayerfully thinking about death and dying, love and loss, and faith. Boundless faith, because for me, it's the only way I got through Loosing Emma, Divorce, Sammy being diagnosed, fear, anger,depression, Grace being hurt, and every other step I have taken.

I know one day we will be with our loved ones. I know one day everything will make sense and I will see the true beauty in all of God's plan for me, for Sammy, for Grace. I hope Emma knows me in heaven. I wish I could hold her just once in my arms. Someday we will all be home in heaven, but for some of us the road is just a bit longer.

No one should ever loose a child. It doesn't seem fair. If you have a moment and you are the praying type please say a prayer for Avery's parents and family. I am quite certain they need them.


And as Always joining up with the beautiful amazing Shell over at