Four Years.

It has been four years since our little one went to Heaven. We slept so peacefully that night that I felt the heaviest burden of guilt when we awoke to the chaos that had suddenly become our lives... But it dawned on me during the early stages of grief... that it is absolutely true that GOD is in control of everything. We only fool ourselves into thinking we own these moments and control our destiny and that's why grief knocks people down so hard! Until we surrender to God and accept that there is a gorgeous, sparkling eternity of hope on the other side- we live in darkness. We stand united as a family now, only because we chose to break through that darkness and look to the Lord to help us. He has healed us, put our hearts back together, allowed us to help others hurting from the same thing, blessed us in so many ways we can barely recount them all without taking the span of an entire week.

If you have lost a child, my heart breaks for you, but I am filled with much hope that the Lord will pick you up and carry you through this and show you that their life hasn't really ended- they are with Him! And your life hasn't ended either- this is only a new chapter that started in a way you never would have wanted, but there is so much on the other side once you climb over this mountain. You can do this with His help. Trust in Him.

Giant hugs to you. You are in my heart and in my prayers.

Raychel: My Story

I have yet to write my story on my personal blog, I guess to spare my loved ones who do not need to know the details. I feel that I can release a little more on here since I surrounded by women who understand my story and my pain.

Abigayl was taking her afternoon nap and I decided to put in a movie. I knew it was time for her to get up but thought she was sleeping so well that I would let her sleep a little longer. When another 30-45 minutes had passed and she still wasn't up, I knew I needed to wake her if I wanted her to stay on her schedule.

It's kind of weird, I knew the minute I opened her door that something wasn't right. I think it was God's way of preparing me for what was to come.

I went to her crib and the blanket she had slept with since she was born was over her head, which was normal for her. When I pulled back her blankie there was blood in her crib. I picked her up and immediately called 911. The dispatcher walked me through CPR and I spent what felt like eternity doing CPR on Abigayl until the Fire/Ambulance got there. I knew that what I was doing wasn't going to help. I just knew. It was hard to continue on knowing that no matter what, I couldn't bring my baby back to me.

One of the fireman called Rusty and told him he needed to come home quickly. I'm so thankful that he was working in our area that day. Not only was he able to make it home swiftly but he was also able to come home on his lunch hour and play with Abigayl.

From the moment Rusty walked through the door he comforted me and never once blamed me. I'm so thankful that he never saw it as my fault. I'm blessed with a very loving husband.

At the hospital, I had to give my statement to an officer. While telling him what happened, I told him that I wished I would have had one of my neighbors get the bedding out for me. I knew that it would be hard to go back in her room later to her sheets. That very nice, amazing officer not only went back and took the bedding for me but he also showed up to Abigayl's service.

I'm so thankful that I had the support from all over to help me muddle my way through life during the days, weeks and months to follow. The main thing for me was leaning on my faith and placing my sorrow in the hands of God. I also leaned on Rusty because he was the only one who knew the loss I was going through.

I look forward to sharing more of my journey with all the moms out there who are sadly on the same journey and long road that I'm on. Together we can make it.

When It Rains, It Pours...

I was talking recently with another mom about the responsibilities that rain down on you in the days following your baby's departure for Heaven.. Unfortunately there are so many difficult choices and matters to handle on top of all the grief you're already dealing with. If you're in the early phase following your loss, it's not a bad idea to ask someone to help you. In fact, it could be a giant weight off your shoulders to have someone take some of it on.

Not every person's experience is the same, here's a few of the things we had to deal with.

I had to argue with the insurance to pay the late claims that came through. They kept informing me that she wasn't on our policy. She HAD been on our policy until the day she passed, as per our insurance's policy to remove people on their day of passing. I was super angry each time I had to make a phone call regarding this, I finally took some advice from a wise friend and when I had a rude representative, I'd ask for their supervisor- promptly report their lack of compassion and ask for someone else to handle my call.

I had bills show up all the way up to ONE YEAR after her death. ONE YEAR? Talk about being behind on your billing. This is one of the things that was hard to deal with. My husband started gathering the mail each day and setting aside insurance bills on Fridays, then giving them to me on Mondays. I couldn't handle knowing that I had two + days over the weekend of which I could not call someone and handle my issues with their bills.

We had quite a bit of medical debt stacked up considering we'd
a.) just had a baby and had a doctor's bill
b.) our baby had a 13 day stay in the NICU for cleft palate (They tried to charge us $22,000)
c.) We had medical debt and an ambulance bill from the dreaded morning she left us.
and
d.)funeral costs, casket, a stone, plus the cost of a burial plot in the cemetery.
I highly recommend asking for financial assistance in situations like this. Ask for payment plans, write offs, anything you can to ease the burden of the debt.

I also received tons of other painful things in the mailbox: American baby magazines, formula samples, 1st Birthday celebration magazines, etc. My husband was super supportive by sorting mail before bringing it in the house and tossing the things that would bring tears. There were also hundreds of sympathy cards. Some days I just didn't open them. I stacked them up and waited for a different day to open them.

I'd never planned a funeral before. Choosing the little cards to hand out, the casket, what to put on her, what to put in the casket with her, what cemetery to go to, what we wanted on the stone, when to have the funeral, where to have the service, what to say at the funeral, these are just some of the things that had my head spinning. I wish I'd asked for more help, a bigger support group to go to all the meeting with me. We did, however, take our pastor with us- from our church. It was nice for us to "not be alone" during that time. If I had to do it over again, I would have gone in there with a friend up under each arm to carry me.

I won't go into my awful dealings with the coroner, the autopsy and the cps, I've gone through that in previous posts.. but those were added to my giant emotional heap. But thankfully we had a wonderful woman who prepared Lila for burial. She cried along with us, and told us she'd take care of her as if she were her own child. She was super compassionate and kind.

I know there's a lot more than this, but right now they aren't coming to mind. Please take my advice if you're still in the early stages post loss and ask for help! You'd be surprised how many people will reach out to help you pull through this rough time. And if you're reading this and you're not a SIDS mom, but know a SIDS mom PLEASE reach out and do as much for her as you possibly can. You cannot imagine how much it will help and how much she'll love you for it later. She may not be able to thank you for it now, and she may seem ungrateful (that's the anger and hurt caused by the loss) but trust me- She needs you!

Note:
I say *she* a lot in my posts, I want to note that daddies need to be helped, remembered, loved and supported too.

Spring Cleaning, Turning up Treasure.

I set out to spring clean this week. One room per day.
I told myself I wouldn't wuss out and do the basics- I'd tear everything apart and put it back together in perfect order. Today I worked on the kitchen. I emptied all the cabinets, drawers and the pantry. I sorted out items for a yard sale, items for goodwill and put everything back carefully. Then it was time for the floors, which the floors led me to pulling out the stove and the fridge to clean behind them too. Upon pulling out the fridge (don't tell the husband I did this, I have a bad back and he'll shoot me for moving the fridge) I found an assortment of things behind it that had fallen from the top. The last time the fridge was moved was oh, say - '06?


My pile of findings (after the dust bunnies were removed) equalled this- three hair ties, a penny, a tube of chapstick, a John Deere pen and this card....
A long lost sympathy card from 2008 when Lila passed away. We had rec'd two identical cards from members of our church family, one went into her sympathy card scrapbook, this one- forgotten and lost behind an appliance.


What a beautiful little pick me up and reminder for my family. I'll never forget how I cried when I found this card in my mailbox. The pure joy on Jesus' face as he's hugging this boy is enough to grab you by the heart. What an amazing picture. I'm glad my spring cleaning turned up some treasure.


Dear Lila, I miss you so much, but when I think of you in the arms of Jesus- just like this picture shows- I am so thankful to know you are in the care of our creator and you are safer than I could imagine. I love you.

Country Mom: Some Lila Related Photos..

I'm glad I was always such an avid photo taker. Otherwise I might not have the cd full of Lila photos that I have now. We are lucky enough to have over 100 photos of our precious girl.
If you read my last post (entitled- the worst day of my life) then you'll understand the background behind some of these photos I'm sharing with you today.

Lila's Room, she never got to use it, she was still in our room. I left it this way for a long time, actually- until I was ready to get pregnant again.The photo of her in her room would catch rainbows from the mirrored closet. I now think of rainbows as a reminder that she's up there waiting.
This is the morning of her funeral. One of the people in the funeral procession took this picture. The massive snow we'd had the morning of her death had all melted and flooded many of the roads... the fog was thick until midday- but it sure fit the mood we were all in. I was relieved it wasn't sunny on the day we had to bury our sweetheart.

At her funeral service, this is her casket. We kept it closed because we didn't think other people needed to see how horrible it is to look upon an infant that is gone... Those are her actual little shoes there on the table. I couldn't bear to put them on her, she hated shoes and hats, so I couldn't have the lady dress her with either. I knew she'd want to be without them. Deciding what to put in her casket was a hard thing to do, especially deciding what would be on her body forever. I chose her dedication dress that she'd worn just the Sunday before she passed away.

This is the actual snowy morning she passed. This is after we came home.

I knew that someday Maddie would ask me a lot of questions about that day, and I wanted to have something to show her, to comfort her. The day was so still, so quiet- most of the state couldn't get out of their houses that day, so there weren't cars on the road, everything was still.

This is one of the photos the nurses in the NICU took when Lila stayed there after her birth.

She had cleft palate (not cleft lip though) and didn't want to take a bottle. She stayed 2 weeks to learn how to eat, then she came home. I love this photo because it seems like she was praying for us, because she knew her time here was going to be very short.

My precious girl. She was so cranky this day, this was five days before she died.

She was crying, and I begged her to let mommy take just a few good photos of her. She grew quiet and still and let me do just that. It breaks my heart to know how cooperative she got when she had been fussy- again- it was like she just knew. Like she knew momma would need some photos to remember her by, so she sat still and pretty. What an angel.

We did a family photo at home in our living room with the camera timer. Boy am I glad we did, otherwise we wouldn't have a picture of all of us together like this. I had no idea how much this would mean while I was doing it. But that's how life works. Hindsight is 20/20.

Another photo of her funeral flowers, these are of the 45 arrangements I took apart, as you saw in our previous post, I photographed all of these separately for her memorial book.

Photography is something I love and I am glad I had something I could do to help ease the pain, keep me distracted, help me deal- and remember her all at the same time.

We dried these flowers and kept them... and as for the plants that they were mixed with, some of them are still alive after two years. My mom has been tending them in her office and at her home. It's nice to know that we made something good out of them instead of just keeping them until they all died. It makes me feel like there's something tangible that was for her.

Thanks for coming and looking at the pics, reading the stories, I can only hope that we help other moms. I want to reach out and hug every single person who's gone through this.

Country Mom: Worst Day of my Life.

I had heard Wendi’s story before, but when I read it here on the blog, I was shaking. Shuddering. I knew it would be my turn next to share, and I didn’t know if I could be as strong as she was. But I did it, and it’s here for other mothers to read… And truth be told, you may NOT want to read this. It’s horrible. Really horrible. But it’s part of my life, it’s part of our family’s story…
　
On January 31st of 2008 the weather channel forecasted that we’d be snowed in the next morning. It was a Thursday and Josh and I were pretty certain he’d be off work the next day because the roads were supposed to be completely lost in the massive amounts of snow. We’d just gotten back from the Urgent Care with our kids, Maddie- our oldest was sick, and we’d taken her to see the doctor. Lila was extremely quiet all evening, we took her to bed at about 10pm and hoped we’d all be home enjoying ourselves in the snow the next day. Somewhere during the night I awoke and decided it was time to change and feed Lila. She wasn’t stirring, so I don’t really know why I woke up, but I changed her diaper and tried to feed her. She didn’t want to eat, instead she acted super sleepy and barely noticed the diaper change so I put her back to bed and fell asleep shortly after that.
I didn’t wake up until sometime after five am when I heard my husband up - getting ready to try to get to work. That’s when I heard his voice in our dark bedroom. Something’s wrong with Lila, she’s not breathing! I dove out of bed, flipped on the light and there she was. Purple and Blue. There was no life in her, she was bloated, COLD, lifeless… it was horrific. I heard my husband saying he was calling 911, but we both knew it was too late. We did what we could, tried to do CPR, over and over and over… Josh took over and I was screaming my baby! and pounding my fists on the floor. He called our neighbor and babysitter because she was trained in CPR and she could get there before the ambulance. And she did. She got there in less than 10 minutes, she worked on her while her husband checked for a pulse. They looked up at us now and then with so much sadness in their faces because they knew she was gone, they were doing CPR for us. They knew it was the only way to stay sane, to think we could help- to stop it, to back it up.. But we knew it couldn’t really be stopped. It was reality. She had died while we were sleeping. Stopped breathing, right there in her bed. She floated up toward Heaven, her soul floating right past mommy and daddy while they slept, unaware.
The ambulance took 40 minutes to get to our house.
Forty minutes of terror, panic, screaming.. We thought Maddie was still in her bedroom, but our little 2 ½ year old had climbed over her baby gate to see what was going on. She saw the paramedics when they arrived, she watched from behind us as they worked on her. To this day she still brings up things she witnessed.. We never meant for her to see that… but we were so caught up in the pain we couldn’t think straight.
We got in the car to follow the ambulance, and I called my father on the phone. They live just a handful of miles away, I wanted them to be aware, to follow us to the hospital, but when my dad answered the phone I was screaming/crying/bawling gibberish… words would not form… He kept asking me to calm down and start over so he could help me, so he could understand.
The ambulance made it 8 miles and stopped in town to take on another paramedic who could shock Lila’s heart. We sat at a snowy intersection waiting for them to pull away and head to the hospital. My husband got out, went to the ambulance to find out what was going on. My parents stood by the door of my car asking me what was going on, would she be okay? I told them I didn’t know. I couldn’t say she was dead. I wouldn’t say it even though I knew it was true.
The rest of the ride to the hospital was painful. The snow was so deep, it took over 30 minutes to drive what should have only taken 15, I sat in the passenger seat screaming, God bring her back, I’ll do anything if you bring her back.
At the hospital I saw them bring her in on the stretcher, they’d cut her clothes down the front and she was in just a diaper, cords attached, needles inserted. I can’t even explain what I felt. It was complete insanity- I had just birthed this baby three months ago and she was gone.
The hospital hallway started to fill up with people who came to be with us, my husbands parents, close personal friends, the pastors from our church, our neighbors, they all held me quietly, rocking me back and forth, their tears dripping off their faces onto mine. I hadn’t thought to put in my contacts, everything was blurry, I was there in my pajamas in a hospital before sunrise mourning the death of my daughter. It all didn’t make sense, it was a night mirror, I thought if only God would wake me up… this isn’t real.
I went into the hospital bathroom, leaned against the wall and slid all the way to the floor. I wanted to die in there. I didn’t ever want to walk out. I was silently begging God to undo the day, to start it over again.
Josh and his mom were both in the bathroom with me, they lifted me under the arms and helped me walk to the room where I was told I could say my goodbyes. My mom stayed by my side holding my arm, it was like we were clinging to each other on the side of a mountain.. There was Lila, dark purple, wrapped in a tiny pink blanket she’d been sleeping with, some sort of clip on her tongue, lifeless and gone. I cradled her in my arms, and held her to my cheek. At that very moment I felt warm, she was being held by Jesus, no doubt in my mind. I remember telling her you’re safe with Jesus, I love you so much, You’re safe with Jesus. It’s gonna be ok.
I knew then my life WOULD NEVER BE THE SAME. I was not going to be a typical person, with a typical life, I would never be normal.
While I was saying goodbye there was another family on the other side of the curtain at first. Their baby had be found unresponsive that morning too, but it was saved. I looked them in the eye one time and thought to myself that I hoped they knew how lucky they were that theirs was spared. They looked at Lila with panic and pain and knew it could have been them. The tables could have been turned..
Before we left we stood in a circle, there were many of us, we prayed, we cried… then it was time to go. To go home without my baby. The snow was deep outside, everything was covered in perfect white snow that hadn’t yet been plowed. Lila had had a short stay in the ICU when she was born for cleft palate and Josh had kept telling me, “I know you want her out of the ICU, she’ll probably get to come home when it snows, she'll get to see the snow.” That was around Thanksgiving, she got to come home after 13 days, but it hadn’t snowed. That morning as we were driving away from the hospital I cried and told Josh, “You were right, she went home when it snowed.” She went to her heavenly home.
Now if you are still with me, imagine the pain I was feeling and add to this the fact that the CPS decided they were going to come to our house that day and interview us. Within four hours of us leaving the hospital. They didn’t wait for an autopsy, they decided to see if we were unfit, which we are the farthest thing from unfit… they came - toured our home, asked to show them where she slept, wanted to see our other child. It was awful. To have strangers in your house checking to see if it was your fault. And if that seems rough add to that the fact that three days later our local coroner came and did the same thing. He came to our home, made us put a baby doll in her bed just the way she was when we found her and then he took pictures for his files. Can you imagine the anger/grief/hatred I felt that day. I couldn’t believe that we were being put through this- it was enough that our baby had died. He told us he was working on the autopsy, that he didn’t want to say sids, that she had tiny spots of pneumonia in her lungs, but it didn’t look like enough to have killed her… He went back and forth and eventually I guess he ruled with viral pneumonia, but our doctor scoffed at that. When I questioned the deputy coroner she made me feel like a moron. She informed me how “important” the coroner is and how “respected” he was in our community. I was angry, I didn’t care how respected he was, he had made my heartache so much worse. Our pediatrician thought for sure it was a sids death. Lila had just been at the doctors office two days before to be seen for a cold. They had listened to her lungs and checked her for everything including rsv and found nothing, just a sniffle. Listening to the professionals go back and forth about her death did not make it any easier. It did, however, make me realize that only God knew the answer.
I wish things had been different from beginning to end, I wish I didn’t have to give up my baby girl- but things wouldn’t have been so horrid if the CPS and coroner had kept their distance like they do in some places. My second cousin’s baby died from SIDS the same weekend that Lila did, and oddly enough the baby was born the exact same day as Lila… She had no autopsy, no cps, no coroner to deal with… just the grief. I wished more than anything I had known my rights then… That I could have been strong enough to stand up for myself and tell them that just because we live in some small town in the middle of nowhere doesn’t give them the right to prance in there and make a bigger mess out of a tragedy. I hope and pray that never happens to another mother. That they never know the pain of wrapping up a fake baby and placing it in the bed so some man they’ve never met can photograph a “reenacted death scene” right there in the privacy of their bedroom.

Until God takes me home, I’m going to keep on reaching out to other momma’s because that is the best way I know how to deal with all of this… to be there for someone else who’s hurting. And to all of those reading who don’t believe in God, He is real, and he does love you. He gives, and he takes away, but he’s in charge. I don’t understand why He allows things to happen to us, and I don’t need to.. All I need to know is that faith in his son and his work on that cross is my saving grace. I honestly don’t know where I’d be right now without it. Call me a preacher, a volunteer, a bible beater, whatever you want- but I can tell you, when you've held your own lifeless child in your arms and have been sent a feeling from God that strong - that she IS safe- you can't help but want to tell the world about Him.



Dear Lila,
baby girl- there is not one single day that goes by that I don't long to hold you in my arms again. I wish more than anything to see you now at two years old... running and playing with your brother and sister. I wonder what you'd be like, if you'd love all the things your big sissy loves- if you'd be quiet like daddy or sassy like momma. I will never forget the last time I saw your beautiful dark eyes gazing at my face, nor the first time I saw your smile. You came into this world and shook it up, you moved mountains in our lives- and you moved them with tiny little hands. I love you more than words can say, and when I see you in Heaven I hope you're able to run to me and call me Momma. Until then, know that I love you with all my heart. Forever.
Hugs, kisses and soo much love.... Momma.

City Mom: The Beginning

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST MAY BE HARD FOR SOME VISITORS TO READ DUE TO ITS RAW EMOTIONAL AND DESCRIPTIVE NATURE. This by far the hardest post I've written, and it discusses some of the real and hard feelings I felt immediately after my son's death. I felt the need to provide this warning because I know that some of our readers might be especially sensitive to this subject given their own personal experiences. Please refrain from reading if you are not emotionally ready. We will understand, I promise.

.........................

I was going to start this post by trying to explain what it’s like to have a happy, healthy baby one second, only to check on that baby a short while later to find them blue and lifeless - but you know what, I don’t think I can explain it. If you’ve been there, you already know, and if you haven’t been there, my words couldn’t even come close. It’s unbelievable to me still, and I’ve been there. It’s unnatural. It’s surreal, and for a long time I felt absolutely removed from myself… For days I would just look at my empty hands and feel that all of their purpose had been ripped away from them. And no matter how much I wanted WITH EVERY SINGLE THING I HAD IN ME for that to be different and for things to be back to the way they were the minutes before I found my son dead, it never would be.

Take a second now, and just think about how simple it is to breathe. Think about it…you’re doing it right now as you’re reading this - and probably before I mentioned it, you didn’t even pay much notice to it, did you?… It just comes natural to us…it’s just what our bodies are meant to do, it just feels simple…

But there I was, staring at my son’s small, lifeless body, screaming for him to please DO THAT SIMPLE THING. To just breathe…IN… OUT… IN… OUT…

A request that would ultimately go unfulfilled.

The paramedics arrive. My husband and I would then be led to follow behind the ambulance that carried my son as they transported him to the hospital. We screamed repeatedly in the car, at the officer driving us to please hurry, that our baby was in there, all while holding on to a shred of hope that this all might not be real.

But it was real.

I remember a desperate thought running through my head… “This can’t be right. He can’t be gone. He has a doctor’s appointment in two weeks, they can figure out what is wrong with him then.”

…

A split second after that, I’m remembering the tiny scab he had on his nose from where he had scratched himself by accident a couple of days before. The idea that I would never get to see it heal because his body had failed him was suddenly too painful for me to bear.

I lost it.

In the dark, wrapped in a blanket between the cold walls of a hospital room, I held my son for the last time. I remember not wanting to touch his skin... I was scared of what it felt like without life in it. How ridiculous of me, but at the time I didn't know what to do and I was scared beyond scared. But I held him, and I just kept asking WHY.

WHY HIM, WHY NOW, WHY NOT ME?

I didn't know how to say goodbye to him. I just wasn't prepared.

Despite not wanting any part of it, they medicated me to help me calm down. I felt like I was in a coma with my eyes open.

In the days after his death I had to make decisions I never thought I would ever have make in my life. From deciding if we wanted to donate any of his organs to different organizations, to going through all of the paperwork required for the obituary to run in the paper. Here I wanted nothing more than to just hold my son… to feel his skin and for it to be warm, but instead I was walking a cemetery, looking at different plots and trying to decide where to lay our son’s body to rest for eternity. I remember sitting with a lady in a dimly lit room at the funeral home. There were different samples of headstones hanging on the walls and in front of us, next to the box of tissues, was a catalog. She flipped through page upon page of little icons and pictures that we could choose to put on his gravestone... to decorate it. “We could choose 3”, she said. – I remember thinking… I can hardly breathe, so how can I make this decision right now? I don’t want to make this decision right now, or ever for that matter. I just wanted to scream at the top of my lungs for everything around me to just STOP, but I didn’t have the energy.

I felt like a zombie.

I knew I was alive, because I had to be, but I didn’t feel alive anymore. At that point, if a bus came screeching into the building, tearing away at the walls and taking me with it, I would have been just fine with it. I may have even wished for it. My will to live was about to get buried 6 feet under, right next to a little boy named Ethan.

……………

I’m just going to say it, anybody who has lost a child and is still here and able to get out of bed every day is a survivor. Seriously. It takes so much to find good in this world again after experiencing such a loss, but I am so glad that I fought that fight to get to where I am now. I could have never done it alone.

I owe my sanity to my amazing husband Jason, my Mom (only God knows how much I love her, and I mean it), my Pop for holding me that night in his arms, my Aunt Lala for just hugging me so tight for so long, my amazing sisters and brother who despite feeling the pain right along with me, pulled me onto their shoulders and helped to carry me through some of the darkest days (talking about you too Tine), My MIL and FIL for opening their arms and doors to us, my cousins, nieces and nephews for all of their unconditional love and for giving me a reason to smile again,… so many others (you know who you are). And of course, Carrie, for finding me and for being the support I needed to continue forward on that difficult, but worthwhile road to brighter days…

This has been hard to write. I realize that I didn’t have to share this, but I wanted to. In order to see how far I’ve come in my journey, you’ve got to see where I started.

City Mom: Picnic Pics

The weather was lovely today here in the city. It actually felt a bit like a Spring day. After Quinn woke up from his nap I decided we'd head outside for a mini picnic to take it all in.


Then, Quinn decided to surprise me by saying "ba ba!" ba ba!" -- Ok, so I don't know if he knows exactly all that he is saying, but he will repeat after me very clearly if I ask him to say it so I think it counts :). This is technically his second "word" since he's been saying "Da Da!" on demand for a couple of months now. You have no idea how many times a day I am in his face saying "Noooo, you meant to say Ma Ma! MA...MA!!". I suppose one day he will say it, if I don't traumatize him in the process :)

I think about how when Ethan was here, I never got to hear him speak a word, nor did I ever get the chance to feed him real baby food... I can truly say, without a doubt, that I cherish these moments with Quinn about a bajillion and one times more because of that. It's those little things that mean so much. Ethan has enriched my life in so many ways, and for that, I will always carry a grateful heart.

Survival for Moms: One Day at a Time.

Everyone grieves differently, but here are some of the things (big & small) that helped me get through the thick of it. We hope that some of these things can help you through those hard days. You CAN do this, you CAN survive it... It's not easy, but we're here for you!

Where to start? Well, I'm just going to list some things in no particular order that I have thought about/tried/worked on for the last two years since Lila's passing. Bear with me as I say "I" a lot... and it's going to look like a big ol' run on sentence, but this is me trying to process a million thoughts and condense them into one blog post.

* I did my best to deal with everything ONE DAY AT A TIME.. Trying to decide what to do a year down the road and when to try to have another baby is too much at first. It is best to just survive, shower, enjoy food again, find the will to get out of bed and put on some make up... just the every day basics need to be tackled at first.. just to get you back into the swing of life. *I kept telling myself it wasn't a punishment, God took her for reasons I couldn't (and didn't want to) understand... But I kept saying in my head, "This is NOT a punishment." This is God's plan in action. *I reminded myself daily that she would never suffer, never feel pain, never be hurt by another human, never experience grief- she is in the most perfect place EVER waiting for us. *I searched the psalms in the bible, knowing that there were a lot that spoke to the heart of what i was facing, as did the story of Job. I decided I wouldn't allow God/Christ to be my "religion" I was going to make it a true relationship, and I started talking to him in my mind CONSTANTLY. He became my one on one confidant since I felt like other people didn't understand or didn't have the time to hear me rehash daily. *I made Faith my personal mantra. Wendi and I bonded over this word also- because that's what will get us there to see our children and our maker. Faith. *I made a website for Lila so I could "visit" on days when I couldn't bear to go to the cemetery and see that fresh dirt surrounding her stone. *I scrapbooked all of my sympathy cards so I could remind myself I was loved, blessed, and that people really did care- even if they didn't understand exactly what i was feeling.*I asked my husband to just hug me, sometimes up to ten minutes a hug- because it felt safe in his arms. *I stopped allowing myself to play the "what if" game everyday because all it did was hurt me more. There is no good reason to allow yourself to hurt your heart even more. The what if's are one of the worst things a mother can put herself through. *I allowed myself time and space by turning the ringer off on the phone some days, but tried hard not to become a recluse. It was a hard balance, so sometimes to clear my head I'd go for long walks by myself. *I read through the books in the sids survival kit provided to me by tinyhandprints.org . *I stopped allowing myself to search the internet for other people's tragic stories, they only brought more tears and more pain... instead I looked for people like Wendi who still hung on to positivity and hope despite their pain. *I busied myself with projects and commitments to keep my mind from focusing on it too much, but sometimes this was a little too much. I realized that I did need time to grieve and not to push it deeper inside where it would fester. This is a hard balance, I'm still not a pro, but I've gotten to the point where I only have about two major cry-fests per year regarding Lila. They usually come the week of her birthday and the week of her angel anniversary. *I still struggle with this one- but I try not to question God on why some people have children that they don't love and don't take care of - and yet they are blessed with one child after another that is living a terrible life in comparison to my loved, well cared for child whom he took up to Heaven. This is a toughie. You just have to keep telling yourself where your baby is and how safe they are. *I tried to focus on making it an eye-opening experience. To help me see how AMAZING life is and even though the world is full of selfish, hateful people- it's full of loving, kind ones too. There's a blessing everywhere you look, you have to choose to see it that way. I have some vinyl lettering on the mirror in my bathroom to remind me daily, it's a silver set of words that is simple and so very true- "Our life is what our thoughts make it." *I got to the point after year one where I could choose not to think about the night mirror of finding our baby had died in her bed. I didn't think this would ever come, but Wendi was further into it at the time than I was and she had told me she'd finally reached that mark. It was a relief when it would pop into my head- and I could say NO and shut it off, turn off the memories and the visions replaying in my mind. Whenever I did let it play, it caused more hurt. Being able to shut it off was a Gift from God. *I allowed myself to feel the prayers people were praying for me. I would sit in a quiet place and close my eyes- listen to birds- and just relax. I knew they were praying for peace and healing, and rather than scoff, I absorbed that love they were sending up to the Heavens for me in their prayers.*I would tell myself at the end of the day that it was time to sit down, look at pics and just cry by myself, because holding it in caused stress, pain, and heartache. It felt good to keep her memory fresh, to put more pics of her up around the house, to allow myself to miss her and not bottle it up. *I became a hugger. I was always a "touch me not" with people outside my family. I allowed people to hug me, and started requesting hugs. I found they were good physical therapy for my heart. There's a lot more, but that's some of it, sorry to keep saying "I" but that's what I did. Some of it anyway..


PLEASE feel free to leave your email the comment box if you want us to contact you, we are here for you!

Vintage City Mom

I found some photos of my twin brother and I when we were just little babes! I'm taking you back people. Back to when City Mom's life was easy-peasy, her hair was blond, and all she cared about in the world were Lisa Frank Stickers, Hello Kitty Stationary, Freezer Pops, Capri Suns and Ramen Noodles (For the record, I still care about the Ramen Noodles. I'm pretty sure they eat those in Heaven).

Enjoy!

Hanging on our Grandma and Grandpa's deck in Rockland County, NY during a family soft ball game. My Mom dressed us so cute. :)


I'm pretty sure this one was taken on one of our Birthdays... 4, maybe 5? I remember that we both got big wheels from our Aunt Billie and as far as young kid life goes, this qualified as THE BEST DAY EVER.

Back in the day at Seashore State Park I believe. That's my Aunt there in the back - the one who got us the Big Wheels. I LOVE YOU AUNT BILLIE - :)


School photo, back before they brought in the lasers
YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT.

A) My sweater is awesome, but I should have been wearing THIS ONE that my Nana bought me (and for the curious, my brother got MC Hammer).

B) FRECKLES!!!!!! Believe it or not, I no longer have them.
Who knew you could outgrow freckles?

City Mom: The Desire to be Happy Again

As much as it is a very personal matter for me to discuss the loss of my child, I realize that a lot of people feel that it is too sad or too dark of a part of themselves to share... something that is better whispered or abbreviated in conversation (if not skipped altogether). But for me and other parents who have experienced the loss of a child, it is a very BIG part of who we are. Oftentimes, however, we can't help but feel that we should only talk about our child with our head hung low - but why! In my heart, I feel so blessed and grateful to have had that time with Ethan that I COULD SHOUT IT FROM A MOUNTAIN TOP! (OR THREE!)

But, here's an honest fact: Sometimes it's just hard to talk about in few words, and confessing to a friendly stranger who asks how many children you have that you really have 2 and not just 1 because 1 died, equals a really awkward situation. For me, being asked that question was difficult, but mostly because the honest answer to the question was likely going to make the person who asked it feel incredibly sorry for asking it in the first place. I hated that feeling; that making-them-feel-sorry feeling.

One way to handle this situation is to not answer the question honestly to try to avoid said awkwardness. Not the best solution. I know this, because I did it once. After Ethan died I didn't leave the house for weeks. When I finally ventured out, a woman who had seen me previously in passing when I was pregnant asked with extreme enthusiasm "Ohhh, where is the baby!???" --- I froze. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to talk about it, nor did I want to hear myself say it. And then there was that whole making-them-feel-sorry thing I mentioned. So, all I could manage to get out was "He's at home with my husband...".

The conversation ended without further incident. SUCCESS! I had managed to avoid THAT conversation... the one where I had to say my son died.

It was the first time I had been faced with that question, AND OH THE GUILT that set in from what I had said just to avoid the truth. It was horrible. Beyond horrible. There I was feeling that way just for trying to keep someone else, a complete stranger, from feeling bad for asking me a simple question... Why was I doing this to myself?

Feeling comfortable and confident in my own skin again became a new focus for me, and one critical to my healing.

Overtime, I realized more and more that, despite how much I wish it didn't have to be, my son's passing was always going to be a part of me, my story, and my life -- and I had to accept it in order to accept me. Of course I would always feel sorrow in connection with his passing, but even greater, and even stronger than that, was the absolute joy that I felt for his life and for the time that I got to share with him when he was here. It was in learning to fully accept my son's passing and accepting myself as a bereaved parent, that I was able to learn to handle and deal with those questions confidently and with grace.

It is easy for parents who have lost a child to feel emotionally isolated from others who haven't gone through what we have. It isn't always easy to bridge that divide, but sometimes you've just got to wake up, look yourself in the mirror and say "Other people have gone through what I've gone through. Yes, my child's passing has changed me. Yes, it hurts like hell, and at times it still feels like a fresh wound, but I'm not going to feel defeated any longer. I am going to be strong for myself, and strong for my child. I am going to take all that I've learned from this, and I'm going to RUN WITH IT. I'm going to keep growing and flourishing and reminding myself each and every day that I am loved, that I am blessed, and that I am not alone."

And that, my friends, is when I decided to begin my journey to find happiness again.

- and although it wasn't bright, sunny days for a long time... I did begin to see fleeting moments of beauty again against my gray, clouded sky...

Progress.

Sibling Grief

Country Mom here... I wanted to tackle a tough post...
This is one of the most difficult subjects for me to write about, but if I can help another parent- it's worth writing.

Grief knows no age.

When Lila passed away, we had so many people say that her big sister wouldn't remember..

....wouldn't feel the hurt....

....wouldn't know the pain... because she was quote- "too little."

Unfortunately that wasn't the case. At 2 1/2 she was old enough to not only remember, she was old enough to feel all the hurt that we felt and then some. To this very day she talks about her sister and tells us all the memories she has of things that went on. Each time she plays at the park or goes to a fun new place she says, "I wish my sister could be here."

We went through a long and difficult period of night terrors, acting out, aggression, tears, and more with our oldest. She would sit straight up in her bed at night and scream "I don't want God to take me!" She was terrified that because her sister died, she could be next. We had to pour on the love and do our best to comfort her daily until she finally started to emerge from the grief rut she was in. This was made even more difficult by the fact that we were hurting too.

It's hard to lose a child, and it deepens the wound to see the pain in their siblings faces. It's hard to see their pain when they realize for the first time in their lives that people can and do sometimes leave- and you cannot get them back. I used the word "hard" here, it's a bland word, I could probably do better- but nothing can really describe the bottomless pit of hurt your heart feels in this situation.

It has been 2 years since Lila's death. Maddie still comes to us and startles us with random questions at times you don't expect them. She remembers the paramedics in the house, the casket at the funeral, the weeping people standing around in black.

I'm no expert, but I can tell you this- she couldn't process those feelings and thoughts at age 2, but the memories were such contrasting incidents compared to the previous calm of her life - that she could not forget them. She held onto them and as each new age comes, and each new stage of intelligence comes- she brings those old memories forth and tries to deal with them.

We noticed that the more we explained God's promise of Heaven, the more children's books we read about the subject, and the more love we share- the better she feels. Her healing is much slower than ours because it took her longer to deal with the situation- but she is healing! This is so good to see.

When we had our third child, Maddie never showed a hint of jealousy, never got angry with him.. She loves him endlessly. I attribute this to the fact that she knows how fast someone can come and go from your life. I want to live like she does and never take anyone for granted.

Age doesn't make us exempt from pain.

Remembering...

Our Sweet babies in Heaven

Ethan Edward Lila Grace We love you more than man can measure.

*************************************

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear)

and whatever is done by only me (is your doing, my darling)

EE Cummings

Your Angel's Birthday

City Mom..

Over the past two years, my family and I have found little ways to help include the memory of Ethan in things we do as a family. As a bereaved parent, I very much understand how important this is, especially when it comes to your child's birthday. For our family, a few small things really helped to ease our hearts on that particularly hard day; a day where our loss and pain only seemed to be magnified even more.

For what would have been Ethan's first birthday, we invited family and very close friends over for a gathering. In lieu of gifts, our family brought new books to donate to the Children's Hospital in Ethan's memory. We also held a family baseball game (this idea came about because we enjoyed watching baseball together as a family for the short time Ethan was here). We had t-shirts made for everyone of our favorite team with the number 1, as well as little keepsake baseball cards of Ethan with a poem on the back that I wrote to honor his day. We did have cake, but rather than sing "happy birthday", my husband and I said a little something beforehand, thanking our guests for coming and allowing us to fill what would have been Ethan's first birthday with wonderful family memories in his honor. We decorated Ethan's grave, and also brought out balloons.

Overall, my husband and I felt that the day turned out beautiful, and as best as it could have possibly been without Ethan here. Also, because Ethan was blessed with lots of very small cousins, the book donation allowed them to feel as if they were contributing in a special way too to help share Ethan's memory. Below are a few photos from our day.

The Red Sox bear sitting on the table was made from one of Ethan's baby blankets.

Decorations at Ethan's spot

Some of the books we collected to donate in Ethan's memory
If you'd like to see more photos from our celebration, you can Ethan's Memorial Site by clicking here.

Country Mom...

Did you read Wendi's story above? It's beautiful(!) and she is one of the strongest people I have ever met- which is why I love that girl. She handled E's first birthday with grace. I, unfortunately, tried and failed. But everyone handles grief and different anniversaries in diverse ways. This is the story of Lila's first birthday...

November 7th of '08 would have been Lila's first birthday. My husband and I discussed different ways we could celebrate her... Unfortunately when that week came along, I felt the weight of that day and what it meant and couldn't bring myself to do much. So - we settled on the idea of a balloon release. We wanted to send out cards attached to helium balloons that explained who Lila was and how much she meant to us. It ended up being a rainy, cold and very dark November day- which fit my mood. I made it through the whole day with strength and quite peace, but by 6pm when Josh came home- the dam broke and I flooded the house with tears. (I received a catalog in the mail the previous week "Celebrating Your Baby's First Birthday". Not the proper publication for a mom who has lost a child, but to receive it the week before was just opening the wound on an altogether bigger scale.) So, after sitting down in our bathroom, in the dark, and just letting it OUT alone- I hit my knees and begged God to help me. I told him there was no way I could handle it without Him. Josh came in after this and had a good talk with me, sharing his favorite memories of Lila and telling me that we would make it through this. And he was right... God carried us through it and the days following weren't as difficult. I hate to admit that something as small as the weather could make the day worse- but it did. I wanted so much to honor her in a beautiful way- to release 86 balloons into the sky and watch them float peacefully upward- but the day wouldn't allow it. The balloons were getting splashed by big rain drops, shrinking because of the low temp, and barely rising above twenty feet. We had to keep catching them and throwing them back up. After about ten we quit, feeling defeated. The miracle and the amazing part of this day doesn't come to us until FIVE MONTHS LATER...

These pictures are of Lila's balloons struggling to take flight in the crazy wind and rain.

(If you decided to honor someone with a balloon release- make your message tags small, ours were weighing the balloons down because they were a half sheet size and were laminated.)

Here they are getting stuck in the tree because of a down draft, they did eventually let loose though. As you can see, it was not an ideal day for an event such as a release.

Despite the lousy weather, the balloons made it OUT OF STATE and we received correspondence in the mail saying, "I found this, this is amazing.. You have touched our family's heart... etc" One balloon was found by a man on EASTER Sunday which was awesome in itself. The balloons had sat through a Michigan winter, under snow, and the leftover scraps were found half a year later. This lifted my heart and put a smile on my face. I was grateful that even a nasty day couldn't stop our little one's memory from being shared. I was certain, as was the first receiver of a balloon, that God took it there. The first family who found one had gone through their own big tragedy the year before and it really meant something to them when they found our message in their yard during spring clean up.

We added a page to Lila's website for the photos from that day and to log the balloons found- if you'd like to visit it- click HERE.

************************
Q: What do you do to honor your child's memory on their birthday? Maybe you do something with family, or maybe you find it best to keep the day low key and quiet? Either way, we'd love to hear - feel free to share as much (or as little) as you'd like.

For parents who have yet to reach this first milestone, we realize how difficult this day can be. We've been there too. Just remember, there is no right or wrong way to handle such a difficult day, and we encourage you to just do what you feel is best in your heart. If you'd like to talk, we are here for you! - You are not alone, so please reach out if you need it.

Big Bouncing Baby Boys...

From the beginning of '08 until today, Wendi and I have been close friends. We've been there for each other when the rest of the world didn't understand our pain. It was a long difficult road of healing and still is at times- but having that support is like a beam of light shining into a dark room.

After months of waiting and thinking.. Wendi and I both discussed how we thought we were ready to try again to build our families (and of course we talked to the husbands about this too!) We started praying for each other and being super positive about getting pregnant and forging ahead. In early October I found out I was pregnant and emailed her to share my good news. Her reply, if I recall correctly, was something like "Are you sitting down?!!" She had just found out she was pregnant too!

It was super exciting to get pregnant at the same time and share our thoughts and worries throughout the next forty(-ish) weeks. She knew what my fears were, and I hers.. How could we possibly sleep after we brought the new baby home? Would we ever be able to take our eyes off the new baby? Would we be prepared if we had another emergency situation?

In June both of our boys arrived safely! Our prayers had been answered! Born just five days apart, Quinn weighing in at 10lbs & 6oz, and Jude 9lbs & 9oz. We both had big bouncing baby boys!

Over the course of the next eight months, up until today, we found that time and love are what heals a heart. It doesn't heal completely- but a new part grows. And eventually- though you're still a worrywart, it does lessen and you learn how to relax a little. We learned that even though we have a lot of pain in our past, we can't let it take away the joy we have ahead.

If you've suffered a loss and are in need of a friend, please leave your email in our comment box. You're not alone in this, we want to be your support too.