The tears came today, in fact, they're still falling as I write this. If you've been reading, you know they haven't really come in awhile.
I like today's tears. But let me start from the beginning...
It started this morning with an unexpected conversation that I began as I was putting on my gym shoes after finishing my yoga class.
Her name is Marla, and her son's name is Freddie; they attend our church. On Saturday my husband and I are going to be walking as part of Team Freddie for the National Down Syndrome Society's Buddy Walk. (Freddie has Down Syndrome, also known as Trisomy 21.)
Marla was delivering t-shirt orders for Team Freddie, and we walked out to her car to get my order. We began chatting about Freddie (unfortunately he didn't make Buddie of the year even though he has 195 people on his team). We also began chatting about military life, and she asked the inevitable question, "Do you and your husband have any children?"
And so I told her about Hailey and Trisomy 18. Two mothers. Two different stories. Two babies with chromosomal disorders - both diagnosed about a week after birth. And similar in that the world of Trisomy disorders came unexpectedly to us in our ignorance of them and similar in that God blessed us both with very special children.
I told Marla how happy I was to be able to support Freddie and other children with Trisomy 21 because Hailey could have been one of them, because Hailey shared something unique with them; she had Trisomy, just a different number. So not only am I walking for Freddie, but I'm walking for Hailey too.
No my tears didn't come during our conversation nor did our conversation make me sad; they never do when I first tell Hailey's story to someone. Instead, the conversation left my heart feeling warmed.
On the drive home Hailey filled my mind, as she often does, and I drove along thinking of her, thinking of Freddie, enjoying the fall weather with my windows rolled down, cool breeze on my face, the sun warming my skin, and then this song began to play on the radio. (I challenge you to watch/listen to the song in its entirety).
Enter instantaneous tears. Tears began streaming down my face. As I drove I turned the volume up louder and let myself embrace the moment. A moment of worship. I released all the emotions I felt inside and listened and sang every word and cried out and praised God.
And so of course when I got home I immediately hopped on iTunes and bought the song and am now playing it as I write this post, tears still trickling down, a smile on my heart.
I love these tears. I love these moments. These are the moments I know are gifts from God where I am completely overwhelmed by his love, where I feel like I can almost literally feel his arm around me, where I've never felt more blessed in my life.
One of my favorite verses since losing Hailey, that expresses one of my hopes, is Psalm 30:11 "You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing."
Here I am thinking of Hailey, missing her, loving her, and all I want to do is stretch my arms out wide, dance in circles, sing out the words of this song, and praise God for loving me, for giving me Hailey, for never leaving me, for the goodness he continues to bring, for turning my mourning into joyful dancing, literally, and for how amazing and wondrous his love and ways are... for I feel I've seen a glimpse of Him and it's indescribable.
There is no other explanation than God's love for how I can sit here, 9 months and 1 day after I held my baby girl for one last time experiencing the deepest of griefs, and be overwhelmed by this awesome joy and love that I feel.
And during these moments, I can't help but wonder how people doubt His existence, and I can't help but feel sad for those who don't know the love and joy and hope of His that I do.
<sigh>
Love these days, these moments, these tears. While on most days I struggle hearing others tell new moms and their babies how blessed they are by God because that causes me to wonder what that makes me and my daughter who was sick and is now buried in the ground... But today, today I can call myself blessed because I know Jesus and my relationship with him has reached depths I never imagined experiencing.
I am blessed. I am loved.
Thank you Jesus.
From the Autumn Leaves, that will ride the breeze
To the Faith it takes, to pray and sing
From the Painted sky, to my plank filled eye
He is God of all, He is everything
I'm giving my life to the only one who makes the Moon reflect the sun.
Every Starry Night, that was His design.
I'm giving my life to the only son, who was and is and yet to come
Let the praises ring, 'cause he is everything.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Bringing Awareness & Remembering
Most people know the month of October to be National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, but did you know the month of October has also been officially declared National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month?
In remembrance of Hailey and in support of all those who have also lost their babies... here's what I'm doing:
October 15th is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day
1. Project Sweet Peas Memorial Balloon Release
I am proud to be one of the Project Sweet Peas local leaders holding a memorial balloon release where I live. I will be writing the names of babies lost due to miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant death on balloons and releasing them. Names can be submitted online on the wall of our Facebook event page or by emailing info@projectsweetpeas.com. These names will be randomly divided amongst the project leaders participating. I will be releasing some of the balloons from the list as well as any balloons that friends, family, or local community members request I personally release here in Alabama. I will be releasing the balloons with the names given to me on Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day, October 15th at 4:30pm at the Enterprise Recreation Park on the bridge that goes over the pond. It is free to submit a name and have a balloon released (submission ends Oct. 10th).
2. Walk to Remember
Josh and I will be participating in an event held on October 16th by Empty Arms Infant Loss Support Group of Dothan called "Walk to Remember." There will be a ½ mile walk, memorial service with the reading of each baby's name, and we will be able to release a butterfly for Hailey (I'm very excited about this part).
3. Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope
As I mentioned in my last post, I shared my face and story of loss on this organization's website, and they will be publishing my face and story of hope soon.
4. I am the Face
I AM THE FACE is a national movement whose goal is to raise $2,000 for the 2,000 women who lose a baby every day and to put a 'face' to the issue of infant loss. Their goal is to not only raise the money but have 2,000 women submit their face of loss. They also have a section on their website called "Gone Too Soon" that lists each baby's name submitted by the faces of loss. I've submitted my picture and Hailey's name. Their $2,000 will support the organization above.
What can you do to raise awareness and support those who have experienced the tragedy of losing a baby?
Friday, October 1, 2010
10 Months... Dear Hailey...
Another 1st of the month means another monthly anniversary of Hailey's birth. She would have turned 10 months old today, and as I say every month, I can hardly believe that much time has passed.
Today is what I call a good day for my grief as I find many more reasons to rejoice than to mourn. It's another day my heart overflows with feelings of love, joy, and gratitude for my daughter's life. Another day where I feel so thankful God placed her in my life, gave her to me, and I'm so thankful for what I've learned because of her. Another day where I can think of her with a smile. Another day where I'm proud to be her momma. A day where I feel at peace with her death and where I am... as strange as that is to say.
All I know today is that even though she was terminally ill and passed away, I am thankful for her life. I am proud to be her mom and call her my daughter. And I want to shout to the world how much I love her. I wish I could speak the words to her ears and show her with an embrace one more time, but I can't. So for now, I show my love for her by speaking her name, talking about her, wearing her footprint around my neck, and giving my heart to Hailey's Hope and helping others. And in my prayers, I ask Jesus to let her know for me until I return to her and can do it myself in Heaven.
In thinking these things, I thought I'd write them to her today:
Dear Hailey Marie,
Ten months ago today, we met for the first time, but we knew each other long before.
You weren't what I expected, and I'm sorry for any pain you went through.
Nothing went as I had planned, but God, he knew.
Even so I hope you know I would have given anything to trade places with you.
While you were here I pray we brought you comfort and that you felt our love.
Sometimes I feel I could have done a better job loving you and for that I'm deeply sorry.
I wish I could have loved you more, held you more, kissed you more, and poured my praises over you more.
I pray that you would forgive me for the times I failed you.
Please know, every moment we spent together I cherished,
and I'm sorry for the moments we spent apart, that I didn't hold you every second of every day.
The Lord knows how much I loved you, and I pray you do too.
I loved holding you tight in my arms, feeling the weight of your body, rocking you back and forth.
I loved breathing you in as I touched my face to yours.
I miss those moments most.
If I had to pick my favorite memory with you,
it'd be our time alone late at night, just me and you.
I'd hold you in my arms as we rocked back and forth in our chair.
I'd sing to you and talk to you, as we searched each other's eyes.
My love often came out in tears, the unique mixture of joy and sorrow overflowing.
I hope you know why I cried and why sometimes I still do.
The tears didn't mean I didn't love you, didn't want you, weren't happy with you, or anything of the sort.
I was sad for what you went through and that you were going to leave me for a better place.
Sad we weren't going to be able to spend more time together on this Earth.
Sad because I didn't want to let you go, because I didn't know who I'd be without you,
and because I didn't know how I would just be here without you.
Until we're reunited again, I do my best to show you and the world how much I love you.
I dream of the moments we'll spend together some day.
I see a butterfly, and I dream of chasing them with you in a field of tall, green grass,
and I imagine you giggling in delight.
I see a flower, marvel in its beauty, and think of you.
I dream of the day we'll wander through God's garden and I can pick a flower to give to you.
On days where I walk outside and look up at the enormity of the sky,
I dream of the time where we can lie down on our backs against the ground,
and look up together, making pictures of the clouds.
I can't wait to take your hand in mine and dance around together as we worship Him.
I love my memories and my dreams of you,
and until the day my dreams come true please know,
I'm so proud to be your mom, and I thank God for you.
I love you more than words can express and miss you just the same.
Love forever and always,
Your momma
Today is what I call a good day for my grief as I find many more reasons to rejoice than to mourn. It's another day my heart overflows with feelings of love, joy, and gratitude for my daughter's life. Another day where I feel so thankful God placed her in my life, gave her to me, and I'm so thankful for what I've learned because of her. Another day where I can think of her with a smile. Another day where I'm proud to be her momma. A day where I feel at peace with her death and where I am... as strange as that is to say.
All I know today is that even though she was terminally ill and passed away, I am thankful for her life. I am proud to be her mom and call her my daughter. And I want to shout to the world how much I love her. I wish I could speak the words to her ears and show her with an embrace one more time, but I can't. So for now, I show my love for her by speaking her name, talking about her, wearing her footprint around my neck, and giving my heart to Hailey's Hope and helping others. And in my prayers, I ask Jesus to let her know for me until I return to her and can do it myself in Heaven.
In thinking these things, I thought I'd write them to her today:
Dear Hailey Marie,
Ten months ago today, we met for the first time, but we knew each other long before.
You weren't what I expected, and I'm sorry for any pain you went through.
Nothing went as I had planned, but God, he knew.
Even so I hope you know I would have given anything to trade places with you.
While you were here I pray we brought you comfort and that you felt our love.
Sometimes I feel I could have done a better job loving you and for that I'm deeply sorry.
I wish I could have loved you more, held you more, kissed you more, and poured my praises over you more.
I pray that you would forgive me for the times I failed you.
Please know, every moment we spent together I cherished,
and I'm sorry for the moments we spent apart, that I didn't hold you every second of every day.
The Lord knows how much I loved you, and I pray you do too.
I loved holding you tight in my arms, feeling the weight of your body, rocking you back and forth.
I loved breathing you in as I touched my face to yours.
I miss those moments most.
If I had to pick my favorite memory with you,
it'd be our time alone late at night, just me and you.
I'd hold you in my arms as we rocked back and forth in our chair.
I'd sing to you and talk to you, as we searched each other's eyes.
My love often came out in tears, the unique mixture of joy and sorrow overflowing.
I hope you know why I cried and why sometimes I still do.
The tears didn't mean I didn't love you, didn't want you, weren't happy with you, or anything of the sort.
I was sad for what you went through and that you were going to leave me for a better place.
Sad we weren't going to be able to spend more time together on this Earth.
Sad because I didn't want to let you go, because I didn't know who I'd be without you,
and because I didn't know how I would just be here without you.
Until we're reunited again, I do my best to show you and the world how much I love you.
I dream of the moments we'll spend together some day.
I see a butterfly, and I dream of chasing them with you in a field of tall, green grass,
and I imagine you giggling in delight.
I see a flower, marvel in its beauty, and think of you.
I dream of the day we'll wander through God's garden and I can pick a flower to give to you.
On days where I walk outside and look up at the enormity of the sky,
I dream of the time where we can lie down on our backs against the ground,
and look up together, making pictures of the clouds.
I can't wait to take your hand in mine and dance around together as we worship Him.
I love my memories and my dreams of you,
and until the day my dreams come true please know,
I'm so proud to be your mom, and I thank God for you.
I love you more than words can express and miss you just the same.
Love forever and always,
Your momma
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