Here without you...9 Months

I've been here without Hailey for 9 months now. It's been really hard for me lately always to actually think back to this day nine months ago and back to the day we buried her. Most of it actually gives me a sick feeling in my stomach when I do.

I don't like to think of Hailey after her soul passed into Heaven, but I do because it's a truth that's there. It's been on my mind lately because of this book that I'm reading. I heard of this really great Christian fiction trilogy called Defiance, Texas awhile back that I thought sounded really intriguing so I bought it. Well here I am at the start of the second book reading from the perspective of a mom who lost her daughter as she's confronted with her daughter's body, as she attends her daughter's funeral service and her burial. (I promise you I had no idea I was going to be reading about this.)

Anyway, the mother makes a lot of comparisons I completely relate to, and it actually brought me back to that non-fiction book by Angie Smith called I Will Carry You that I read not too long ago that made my grief feel fresher than ever because both books touch on things I relate to... that I think anyone who has lost a child or love one can relate to.

I mentioned earlier that this is the stuff I don't like to think about it. The stuff that's hard. It's where there's no joy and positive "stuff." Which is why on day's like today I tend to focus on the things that have joy and hope like thinking about where Hailey is today and that is perfect and happy and healed in Heaven with her Father.

But what I don't like to think about is the "stuff" that came along with her death. The morbid stuff no one likes to think about, read about, or talk about. (So if that's you - a little disclaimer here - don't read the rest of this. I will write with love and discretion, but the truth is some of it is just morbid and may be disturbing to some people.)

Nine months ago today, I held Hailey's body in my arms, her in her fleece jammies and wrapped in her pink fleece blanket, and I felt her skin turn from somewhat warm to cold. The memory of me kissing her cold forehead for the last time is vivid and one that still gives me shivers. It was not a shock that she felt cold; I knew that was a biological part of death, and I expected it. But for the mother in me, it was a shock. I absolutely hated feeling my baby so unbelievably cold. All I wanted to do as her mom was make her warm. But I couldn't, and it bothered me, and still does to tell the truth. (Both writers mention this in their books).

I know Hailey is alive in Heaven right now as I type this, but that doesn't change the fact that her body is still here on this earth. The body of my child is here.... (yeah, the morbid part...) And it's so that's hard when I think about it sometimes.

We buried Hailey in January. In the peak of winter in northern Illinois, snow on the ground. I never told anybody this, but I hated how she was there, in the ground, so cold and alone. It bothered me to think of her that way. I wanted to warm her, give her another blanket, a jacket, or something. I know, crazy right? But I guess I'm not the only mother who has lost a child that has thought along these lines. Also, I hated having to leave "her" to come back to Alabama. When the spring hit, I hated knowing it would rain on her; a part of me had the thought of wanting to put an umbrella over her grave. I hated hate thinking about nature, its elements, and my baby's casket...

But like I said, thankfully I know she's not really cold, alone, wet, or anything else because she is alive and well in Heaven. But as her mom, her care taker, her protector, it's hard because I still feel a responsibility and connected to what is left of her here. Which is why I miss not being able to go visit her grave.

Since we've buried Hailey, I think about cemeteries and gravestones in a different way. And especially now that Halloween rolls around and graves and cemeteries become images of terror and horror - it really bothers me. Now when I see a cemetery, I wonder whose loved one is there, how are they doing in their grief, and so on. To me, Hailey's grave is not creepy or scary or anything of the sort. Instead, it's her body's resting place her on earth. And as much as I hate thinking about the realities of my daughter being buried, I don't have any real negative emotions attached to her cemetery or burial spot or gravestone. Sure it makes me sad, it's my baby afterall, but it's something that words can't explain.

Anyway, today, 9 months since I lost her, I actually wish I could go visit her grave. If I could, I would sit there and just be close to "her" for a moment. I would talk and pray. I would bring her some pretty flowers as something from me that I could leave behind so once I left people would know this baby is remembered and loved and celebrated every single day.

If you read this post in its entirety, I pray you can understand my words and my heart, and I hope it wasn't too hard or uncomfortable for you. (This is one of those posts that's more for me to release and record some of my thoughts.) Although I wrote about this hard topic for me today and I do wish I could go visit her grave and spend some time with her and God in that way, I'm not depressed or too sad because my mind focuses on where Hailey really is today and that's in Heaven, where there's no death, no illness, no shame, no pain, no sorrow, where she's together with her Father and surrounded by more perfect joy and love that I can only hope to experience one day with her. And so while of course I feel sadness in missing her, I'm comforted by these truths.

I love you Hailey Marie. I looked at a picture of you today. You looked so beautiful in it that it took my breath away.