Goodbye Bittersweet March

The month of March will officially be over in less than half an hour...this month has flown by. It feels like I was just posting my "Well, it's March" post on the first day of the month.

I have mixed feelings about it ending...in one sense, I feel like I can now breathe a sigh of relief. March is hard on me. It is emotionally really difficult to relive all the significant dates from March 2010.

On the other hand, March truly has a very special place in my heart. It is hard, yes, but it is beautiful...it is her month. And somehow living in it makes me feel somehow closer to her. She feels right here. Though it's tough, that is not something I would ever give up. I want to feel her near. I am so thankful she has a special day all her own that we can celebrate.

It's bittersweet...that's the perfect word.

I will miss her month. Though, it will be good to not feel the fog for a while. Next time March rolls around, Lily would be 4! Time just keeps marching by.

This month has been busy. All the anniversary dates...Lily's due date, her birthday, the day of her Celebration of LIFE Service and burial, St. Patrick's Day, and Easter just to name a few...

So many amazing things have happened in the month of March for Lily's birth month. I got the official letter saying I am speaking at my first Pregnancy Center Banquet in Illinois in October, I ordered Lily's headstone, I was asked by the Founder of Huntsville Right to Life to share my story on their website, now Lily's name will be in the credits of Return to Zero...and something else super exciting (which I will be sharing tomorrow hopefully).

And I have some other amazing news from this month! My BROTHER, Joseph, is ENGAGED...to my BEST FRIEND, Kala!! I thought Easter would be the perfect day to share this exciting news because their God-written love story is a beautiful story of redemption and grace! We are all thrilled! I already said my "official title" is Maid of Honor/Best Woman. ;)

It's been a beautiful and special month of celebration, remembrance, opened doors, and new seasons beginning.

I love you so much, Lily! My precious March flower...

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Those Bittersweet Moments

There are so many moments in my life that are bittersweet. My days are filled with happy moments tinged with sadness. As time keeps moving, I am finding that instead of being consumed by the sadness like I once was, I can acknowledge it and then concentrate on the happiness.

These are some of those bittersweet moments that remind me I am a mother...

Last week, I went shopping for a little girl named Sierra, who is my friend's foster daughter. I met them both last year when I was at Ellerslie. Right away, Sierra and I developed quite a special connection. We also just so happen to share a birthday, August 12th. She just turned 4 and I turned 23. :) As I walked around the store with the big red bullseye looking for the perfect birthday gift for her, I was smiling on the inside and outside! It felt so good to shop for a little girl. It was fun and felt so natural. If Lily were here, I would be shopping for a little girl all the time. My heart knows that. For a split second, I felt the sadness creep up on me, but it was mostly just a sweet experience. I wished that I always had the happiness of shopping for a little girl, no matter what stage of life she would be in. As I picked out the Hello Kitty shirt and sparkly pink and green headbands, I wondered if Lily would like Hello Kitty now? Or Dora? Or maybe princesses? In this moment, I felt a connection to my own little girl. Instead of dwelling on the sadness, I experienced it in that moment, but then chose to feel the joy instead.

I mentioned before that I was possibly going to nanny for a little boy who was born on the exact same day as my girl! Well, I accepted the job! I just felt a real peace about it. My nickname for him is "the little fella." :) A few days ago, we were watching Nick Jr. together when one of the little creatures names was Lily. The characters kept saying it over and over. A little wink from above...

I also found out that same little guy born March 16, 2010 has a dad who shares my birthday! I told him my birthday was coming up that week and he asked when. When I told him the date, he said, "That's mine too!" If only he knew how small of a world it really is...

I was drawn into a medical show a couple nights ago. The doctors discovered that a baby boy in the womb had a heart condition. He would need open-heart surgery soon after birth, to have any hope of survival. While she was still pregnant, with tears in her eyes, his mother said, "He may not be out in this world breathing, but his heart is beating. I feel him kicking...I love him." Yes. I understand, mama. That's why the bitterness hurts so badly. Because Lily was a real, living, beautiful baby girl. That precious little boy had a successful surgery and he lived, going home healthy with his parents. They even had to put his heart in a different position in his body! The doctors said he would live a normal life and could play football or whatever else he wanted to do. Look what modern medicine can do to save lives...why could no doctor, treatment, medicine, or surgery save my daughter?...I choose not to dwell on those thoughts. I choose to be joyful in the sweet truth that Lily was here at all.

I remember the first week after losing Lily, my mom and I were just driving around with no where particular to go. I needed to get out of the house. I wanted to escape. My own skin, my reality, my life. That was when the taste was only bitterness. Now there is much sweetness in there too...I'm learning to accept and embrace what motherhood is to me...what it will always be to me, no matter how many more babies I have in the future.

I am a mother.

I have all the hopes and dreams of a mother.

I have known the soaring excitement of a baby's first kick 
and I have known grief deeper than any ocean's depth.

There is a beautiful soul in heaven whom I carried and cherished here on earth.

I have known a love so strong and deep that only death itself 
could keep me so far from my beloved now.

With all my heart and soul, I have protected, cherished, 
hoped and loved beyond anything I've ever known. 
This is what a mother knows.

I am a mother.

~Unknown~

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Waking Up

This morning, I awoke with tears in my eyes and such a heaviness weighing down on me. Waking up to a world where she isn't makes my heart ache because my dreams consist of a world where she is. A very real world. With a very real little girl. Last night, I dreamed of her. And you know those dreams that you can feel and it feels so real and you can see and what you see is so vivid? Well, it was that kind of a dream.

And I'm wondering if my dream means something, or if it's just my heart, my soul, my everything, longing for the part of me that's missing. Tell me if you have any ideas of what this could mean...

We were at a party with a lot of other babies and there she was. All of a sudden, she had gotten so big and I remember feeling sad that I didn't have pictures of her when she was smaller. I immediately knew it was her, even though somehow I didn't feel like I knew her because I hadn't seen her for a while, yet deep down I did know her. She had on a shirt that said, "Ginny" (my moms name). Don't ask me why, but it made sense in my dream. She looked just like my mom as a baby, who looked just like me. She had curly, blonde hair and soft, blue eyes. I looked out of the enormous glass window at the beautiful scenery while she played with the other children. We were leaving, walking to the car. I felt the weight of her in my arms. She's getting so heavy. I look down at her little face, smushed up against my chest, her floppy body fast asleep. She was so trusting. She knew I would take care of her and cause her no harm. I took her to the car and placed her in the driver's seat. Kneeling down next to her in the pebble driveway, I stroked my fingers through her soft hair and kissed her smooth, pale skin. I thought to myself, "I thought she was gone?" But, here she was in front of me. I just watched her sleep. I drank in her presence. She fell backwards across the seat and I went around to the other side of the car to pull her up. We drove along an old, rugged road, just me and her. There were no yellow lines winding along as we drove mile after mile, gazing at the lush, green meadows in the distance. She was asleep. I was driving. And things were okay. 

Then I woke up. And remembered...the cold, hard truth. And tomorrow will be four months. And I'm back in this place that I thought I had already passed. This never-ending circle of grief and sadness. This life of everyday missing my girl.

Why do I have to wake up? ... from this dream, from feeling alright...

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You should be here

My dear Lily,

I wish you were here. The whole family got together the Sunday before last at the B&B where we house and dog-sit. All the aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, and your great-grandmother were there. That weekend was really tough for me. I missed you more than I had for a while. 

I told you all about your cousin, Daniel, my first cousin who was born four months after me. We grew up as best buddies and I couldn't have been more excited that we were going to have a boy and girl, three months apart. You and Owen, two peas in a pod. You two were gonna grow up together and spend the months looking forward to the next time you'd see your buddy. You were gonna watch each other's backs. You were gonna enjoy each other's company as much as Daniel and I did. 

I met 6-month old Owen that weekend for the first time. You would be 3 months old now. You would be smiling now. It was so hard to meet him, little girl. I tried so hard, I promise you I did. But, I was overwhelmed with missing you. Somehow seeing Owen made the loss of you all the more real. Seeing a real, live baby. Not a lifeless baby like you were when I held you. It was especially hard, knowing you are his cousin, knowing you should have been there meeting him. I had looked forward to the time so much. 

I couldn't help feeling jealous, as I watched Owen's mommy hold him, kissing his forehead, feeding him his bottle. I quietly watched her as Owen fell fast asleep in her arms. I studied her as I watched her be his mother. And the ache inside me was there like never before. Never before have I wanted to be a mother so badly. 

Owen was the center of attention and you weren't mentioned once. It's like people have already forgotten about you. Like I'm not gonna remember you if people don't bring you up. I wish people would understand that I think of you and miss you no matter who says what. It just makes me miss you more when people act like you never were.

I didn't hold Owen for two days. I was jealous, I was hurting, I was angry, I was heartbroken. On that Sunday afternoon, he was napping when no one else was around. And I watched him. I watched him sleep, turning his head from side to side, breathing deeply, wiggling his arms around. I rubbed his back and I was so in love with this little boy. I can only imagine how much love I would have felt for you, my own child. I still feel the love. Owen is so precious, red hair, blue eyes. You would have been so cute in pictures together.

Daniel makes Owen laugh. He plays peek-a-boo with him and I look on as Owen waits in anticipation, knowing his daddy's face will be appearing any moment. And it grips my heart. I will never hear your giggle. I will never know how it might have sounded. 

On Monday, I finally held Owen. I knew you'd want me to. All I could think of when I held him was how much I loved him. How much I adored this little boy, who was a miniature Daniel. How could I not adore his son? It made me feel connected to you. It was okay. I was scared, but it was fine. I kissed his cheeks and held him close. 

Daniel was really dear about it too. He could tell it was hard for me and he was really sensitive about it. He understood. We went to the cemetery, just me and him, and visited you. We talked about you. We missed you. He wishes you were here too. I'm glad he has Owen...it's helping him grow up and mature.

Holding Owen was healing. It was beautiful. I just wish I could see him more often. I wish you two could have played together. From now on, as I watch Owen grow up, I will always know I should have a daughter the same age. I will wonder what you might look like, what you might enjoy, how you and Owen would love playing. And I'll miss you forever.

Love, Mommy

Daniel and I when we were kids

Daniel and I when I was pregnant with Lily

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Babylost Mothers Day

Today, May 2nd, is International Babylost Mothers Day. I'm praying for all you other butterfly mommies! I'm going to do something special for my Lily today. If I had known earlier about this special day, I would have gotten together with other babyloss mothers from my area...next year though, I'll be ready! I'm hoping to meet some of these moms this summer! I'll be headed to Virginia for a week this Saturday to visit friends and family. I will definitely be celebrating this day with my grandmother, who also lost a baby more than forty years ago. We have a special bond because of it. It will be really nice to see her and fellowship with her. I hope all you moms have a wonderful day remembering and talking about your sweet babies...I'm remembering all of them today as well. :)

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The Promise of Spring

All week, the skies have been perfectly blue, with white, fluffy clouds sailing by. One afternoon was spent in pleasant conversation with my mother and good friend, Kala. We discussed the set-apart life, deliverances, and everything in between. Fresh, cool breezes circulated through the home, blowing back the curtains, giving us a glimpse of the beauty of the day. Spring has sprung. This is the sort of weather that just makes you feel happy. It makes you want to smile and breathe in deeply. Just soak it up.


But, this spring is different. Days are now bittersweet. With the promise of spring, came the promise of Lily. Like the new life all around me bursting forth from the earth, Lily was new life. We wait. We anticipate. Spring and Lily...they came together. Now, spring will always remind me of the time Lily came...and went. How cruel it seems. Now, I'm not sure what the future holds...I'm not sure what to dream anymore, how to feel. What promises does tomorrow hold? How can all the plants and flowers still look so pretty without her here? They seem so happy. Everyone seems so happy, out playing in the warm weather and sunshine. Spring and summer clothes now being brought out of storage.


I can't blame them though. I would be doing the same thing. I would be out enjoying the beautiful days with Lily, taking walks, reading on the front porch, her laying in her Moses basket, while Mom works in her garden.


But instead of spending my days with my little girl, dreaming for her, I'm spending my days thinking about her, talking about her, longing for her. Writing about her. Writing has been so healing for me these days, like gardening is for my mom. As I write this now, she is bustling around, tidying up the porch, pulling weeds, and getting her yard ready for the season. It's been really good finding websites and other blogs with people who have gone through situations similar to or like my own. I realize I'm not alone. People have gone before me..and made it. Of coarse they don't forget, but they are able to still live. Still breathe. Even without their baby...As much as we don't want to. There's like an online community of women who have lost their babies, all sorts of times and ways. Even though I would never want another woman to have to know this pain, it's good to know I'm not alone...

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