Triggered Grief, Unfair Life, Incomplete Love

It's the morning after delivering Hailey's Hope's bags to UAB, and I feel that I should be happier than I am. Instead, that familiar, uncomfortable emptiness of missing Hailey has taken over and left no room for me to feel all the joy that I want to be feeling. I wanted to write a post about the delivery, not my grief. But I am writing about it because writing provides a small bit of relief and comfort.

So what triggered my empty heart and led me back to the place of deep sorrow? No, it didn't have anything to do with delivering her bags yesterday as you might think. The triggers tend to be a picture of a baby or the familiar comments of a pregnant woman rejoicing in the doctor's confirmed health of her and the baby she is carrying, and that's what it is this time. What I don't understand is that some days I can look at pictures of babies and read or hear about those types of comments and be just fine, when other times like now they pierce my heart and deflate it.

As this trigger confronted me, a part of me became enraged in sadness and quietly screamed inside that my baby and I were continually given healthy reports too. I was continually told her heartbeat is strong, her size is good, she's in the right position, she looks healthy, she's doing great...I was told everything that every woman carrying  a child wants to hear. But they were wrong. Sometimes I can't get over the fact that everything was 'normal', and I went into the hospital in labor expecting to have my healthy baby girl placed on my chest and leave with her in a couple of days. Instead the opposite happened. It was unexpected. It was terrifying. It was my worst fear. Not only was my baby girl not healthy like they thought, but she was going to die. How do you ever come to terms with that kind of unexpected, shocking truth?

In one day my life completely and unexpectedly changed. I went from being the typical happy mom-to-be with baby showers being thrown for me/us, joyfully decorating the nursery, shopping for new and gently used items that we would need for her first year, preparing as much as possible for bringing this baby into the world....to being confronted with my baby's countless health problems, living out of a suitcase at a Ronald McDonald House and in the hospital for a week, learning she was going to die, preparing for her death, to becoming a babylost mother. My soul aches from that change. A part of me wonders that if knowing there was something wrong with Hailey from the very beginning would have made a difference in the end, because in the end the result is the same...

I know this isn't the first time that I've written about how seeing and hearing of pregnant women happily and eagerly anticipating the arrival of their new healthy baby just makes me want to scream out that was me, that was me, I did that too, I thought that too, and look where I am now. And I don't know why I want to scream it out, but I do.  Maybe it's the part of me that thinks life isn't fair but it should be... But here I am still struggling with the same thing. I wonder if it will always be this way with the same things suddenly bringing my grief to life again.

And that's not the only thing I'm struggling with today. I'm struggling with loving her. I feel as if I was robbed of the time to get to know my daughter and fall completely in love with her. Don't misunderstand me; I love Hailey, always have and always will. But sometimes like today I struggle with my love not being whole or complete enough. How do you love someone who isn't here? Sure you can feel you love them, but you can't tell them, you can't show them, you can't kiss them, you can't hold them...You can't know that they know. There are other things I do now to show my love for her  and carry on her memory like talking about her, planting a flower in her memory, Hailey's Hope, etc. but I feel like it's not love at it's best. It's not love as it could be or as it should be.

Even when she was with us, I now feel as though I didn't love her enough. I had a difficult time sharing her with so many people - nurses, doctors, friends, family members. I knew they needed their time with her too so I gave it to them, but all the while I just wanted her to myself. I didn't want to share her, but I did. And there are sometimes, like today, when a part of me wishes I didn't share her, and I had kept her all to myself. Then maybe I wouldn't feel like I didn't love her enough, hold her enough...

Sometimes I feel as though my heart was incapable of fully showing her my love when she was with us because it was already in the stage of mourning. My heart was crowded with fears, worries, sorrows, and grief - how can you completely and fully pour out your love on someone when the love is being crowded out by all of those other emotions and thoughts? I did my best to tell her and show her I loved her while she was with us. But what if it wasn't my best? The problem with grief is that it brings with guilt and feelings of it not being good enough. What if I love her more now than I did when she was with us? Am I a terrible mother if that's true? Is it true?

Last night I silently cried myself to sleep. The only thing allowing peace and sleep to come to me was something you might consider me crazy for doing, unless you have lost a child or close loved one and love Jesus as I do. As I cried, I prayed. Longing and needing to be held as I longed to hold Hailey, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Jesus and Hailey being with me right then and there in that moment. I needed and wanted them both. I imagined Jesus lying next to me wrapping me in his arms as a Father holding his child, stroking my hair, trying to soothe me. I imagined Hailey in my arms. And this is where I think I transitioned from imagining to dreaming. In my mind Hailey was older than she should have been, maybe closer to 9 months. I saw her, a vague, blurry image of her that I couldn't quite focus on, smiling and giggling at me. Gently touching my face with her chubby baby hands as though she was searching for something. She touched my tears and wiped them away for me; then she crawled and climbed all over me like she was playing with me. And that's the last thing I remember...

I woke up this morning hoping that 'though my sorrows may last for the night, my joy comes with the morning.' But the emptiness and tears remain. I miss her a lot today. I want to touch her and hold her again...

(One last note: I didn't write this for sympathy or pity or for anyone to worry about me struggling with my grief. I shared this for me because carrying it inside is like bottling the pain up in my heart which hurts, and like I said at the beginning, writing about it relieves some of that painful pressure. I will be okay, as okay as a mother without her child can be, and eventually the emptiness and tears and pain will subside as they always do. Today is just one of those days.)

Hailey's Hope: Finishing Touches!

I just wanted to write a quick post about Hailey's Hope since tomorrow is our delivery day. First of all, Josh and I will be heading out around lunch time and arriving at UAB around 4pm to drop off the bags. Once we're done hopefully we'll go out for a little celebration dinner and head home, which means we probably will be home late, and I didn't want to wait until Saturday to write anything.

So now for the really important stuff! In case you haven't heard through word of mouth or Facebook yet, with everyone's help, support, donations, and prayers we exceeded our goal of 20 bags and will be delivering 36 bags tomorrow (in memory of the 36 days Hailey lived). We nearly doubled our goal which is such a huge blessing! I am so excited to be able to do this and bless 36 babies and their families!

And we actually came in under budget so we have a little bit of money and a bunch of different items left over, but not enough of every item and not enough time to add anymore completed bags, so we already have a head start on our next round of donations. :)

Here are some pictures from finishing up the bags:

Organized chaos - preparing the bags!

Happily filling the bags!

The final product! 36 bags ready to be delivered tomorrow!

Confessions

As much as I don't mind talking about Hailey and actually like talking about her, I have two confessions to make that may make me seem hypocritical.

One, I have been in desperate need of a hair cut because I haven't had my hair cut since my mother-in-law last cut it when I was home when Hailey passed away (which means it's been about 5 months). My confession: I haven't gotten a haircut because I have been avoiding finding a hair stylist here in AL. Why? Because I knew I would have to explain to this person that I had a daughter, but she passed away--and this inevitability creates an awkwardness, whether minor or severe; it's always there. I just didn't want to face it. So I have been wearing my hair in a pony tail every day for the past 5 months . Luckily since I now workout often, the pony tail would have to happen anyway, but when there's an occasion whether it be church or a date with my husband, I would like to wear it down and style it, etc. But I haven't been able to do that for some time now. (Thankfully I'll be getting it cut when I head home in a couple of weeks).

Two, the other day when I was in the baby section at the PX shopping for Hailey's Hope, I saw my old neighbor with her two little girls. My confession: As soon as I saw them, I did a 180 and made a beeline straight to another department. I also think I've seen her a few times at the gym, but I always walk by quickly and never look long enough to figure out if it's her. All for the same reason: I am avoiding talking to her because I know the subject of Hailey will come up, and I haven't been ready for that conversation with her. You see she was our neighbor throughout my entire pregnancy, and she even gave me bags upon bags of gently used baby items from her little girls. She moved away right before Hailey was born, so I don't know if she knows that Hailey passed away or not...

You see I've been trying to figure out why when I know I want to talk about Hailey and share my experience with her with others that in these two situations I am so blatantly and almost fearfully avoiding doing so. In the one case it would be  a stranger, a hair stylist who I'd never met, and in the other case it would be someone I knew while I was pregnant with Hailey.  So what was/ is my deal? I figured out what they have in common and why I'm avoiding them and talking about Hailey: because they don't know my daughter died.

I realized I still struggle to tell people who aren't expecting to hear that news. That is the hardest. The looks on their faces, the pause in conversation, the not knowing what to say... It's when people go from talking to me in a happy, upbeat, carefree way asking me if I have kids or how the baby's doing - something so innocent and so natural in conversations - and then when they hear my answer it's like I slapped them in the face...it's the awkwardness. I always do my best to judge their reactions to determine what I should say next - continue to talk about her (which I don't mind) or change subjects (which is fine too). It's just that 'moment' that I still dread and apparently will do anything to avoid.

So all these times I think and say I love talking about Hailey and nothing makes me happier - what I'm saying is true. But I guess it's to people who already have some idea of what's happened. Telling people that my daughter died when they aren't expecting it - whether they're strangers or people we know - that's where it's still hard. Avoid them as I might, sometimes those situations are unavoidable...

The other weekend when we were at the dog beach with Opie and our friends and their dog, another couple arrived with their dog. The woman, who was noticeably older than myself, was pregnant and proceeded to talk me as though I had no idea what it was like to be pregnant or have a baby along with a dog. It's an easy assumption to make considering there we were, a young couple playing with our dog, no child in sight, no bump in my belly, but don't people know they should never assume...? Well months ago I made the decision that I would never act like Hailey didn't exist. So I casually and gently told her that I had a daughter who passed away in January and continued to tell her how wonderful Opie was with her. She kind of paused, didn't look at me, and proceeded to tell me how she was sorry to hear that and how someone she knew recently lost her baby. The conversation was okay, but I could tell during that pause it was like a stick your foot in your mouth type of moment for her.

So those are my 'confessions.' I'm still trying to navigate these situations when they come up and trying to learn to face them instead of avoid them. And just for the record, I really do like talking about Hailey - I just don't necessarily like having to break the news to unsuspecting people that she died...

Hold On To Hope

It's funny how since naming Hailey's project with Project Sweet Peas, Hailey's Hope, how messages of hope seem to be all around me these days. From God speaking it to me in His word to online articles to topics in my devotionals to songs I hear.

Initially when naming Hailey's project I chose "hope" because it had a nice ring to it with the alliteration with the "h's" and all and because who doesn't need hope - especially when their baby is in critical condition, in intensive care in a hospital potentially fighting for his/her life? Someone might read "Hailey's Hope" and be misled to think oh my baby has the hope of leaving the NICU and surviving like this baby Hailey... But no, that's not Hailey's hope. As I thought about the name and if it was really the right one for her / our project because of this, I began to think more deeply about what her hope was, would be, and what it is to us. And sure enough, it's turned out to be the perfect name of her project as it reflects so much of her life and what's come out of her life.

Her hope wasn't to be cured of her Trisomy 18. Her hope wasn't to survive and live a normal life. Her hope was that God would take care of her according to His plans. And he did. Her hope was that one day God would call her home to be with Him in a place where she wouldn't be sick or feel any pain or suffering or be limited in anyway - a place where she could be truly at peace and be happy and healthy. And he did. Our hope, in addition to these hopes, as I've mentioned numerous times before, is that we will see Hailey again one day and until then God will remain with us and help us through this difficult journey without her. So what is Hailey's hope? To put it simply it is the same as our hope and the hope of many - God, salvation, eternal life through Jesus.

Without hope, life is dark, hard, nearly impossible. I experienced a time of hopelessness after losing Hailey. When I looked to the future it was shaded gray with no joy and nothing good. And when hope is lost I learned that fear moves in to take its place. And there was a time that I wrote about when fear nearly crippled me - particularly the fear of having another baby (you can read about it here).

I read a quote the other day in my devotional which phrased what I have experienced (and written about in my post "From Fear to Freedom") so perfectly:

"Fear can hold you prisoner. HOPE can set you free." - from The Shawshank Redemption

A life without hope is a life of fear incapable of joy and love and what life is that? And coincidentally, or perhaps not, the topic of this week's devotionals that Josh and I read together is called "Hold On To Hope." I just had to share this part of what we read last night:

Can any of us live without hope? I think not. Without hope, we have no reason to get out of bed in the morning...no motivation to complete our daily tasks at work, home, church... no desire to take on the sometimes dizzying array of problems in our world. A life without hope is a life without meaning.

Yet as Christians we always have hope. In Jesus Christ, we have a holy protector, friend, confidante, and guide. We have a reserved seat in heaven that promises unimaginable joy. This is what gives us endurance, patience, and motativation to bring glory to our Creator during this imperfect existence.... John tells us, "Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life" (John 3:36). Can you imagine a greater source of hope?

-Night Light: A Devotional for Couples by Dr. James & Shirley Dobson

So sources and reminders of hope surround me lately, and it's funny how much the name of our Project Sweet Peas project is affecting me. I think I can hear God's message to me loud and clear: hold on to hope.

I will.

P.S. I just have to share this song that was playing while I wrote this - the message of holding on to hope is written in between the lyrics of this song: Before The Morning. Do you dare to believe?