A sign of hope and remembrance

I really feel strongly in so many of the beautiful blog hops that take amidst this amazing land of baby loss families, so I felt it necessary to participate in one of them again today, especially since I believe the Small Miracles one is just about ready to close. I'm still not quite sure if what I'm going to write about is a miracle or not....but I thought it was as close to a sign of hope as anything else I have in my life right now.

My small miracle is the idea of a 2nd baby and the belief and acceptance of my first baby that is seen and felt through people in my "real life." As many of you know, I am currently in a mess of a marriage and dealing with some issues of possible endometriosis which was recently diagnosed this past summer. My life has been completely rocked in the past 2 years...and some days I feel like there is no end in sight.

I have many days where I feel like a 2nd baby will never be in the cards for me. Like maybe it's not meant to be. Maybe Kennedy was my only gift of life that I will ever feel move or carry? Maybe my baby will always just be in Heaven...never on Earth? This has been a very scary thought for me, especially since I can't imagine not being a "mom" to a baby on Earth. Ever since I carried Kennedy, I feel more ready and excited to be a mom to a baby on Earth. I want that thrill. I want the hard nights. I want a little boy or girl to look at me and call me, "Mommy." I want it all. Yet, there are many times where I feel hopeless. Scared. I find myself saying "maybe" a lot. Or "if." I hate that. I want to say "when." When will that change? Will I ever believe that it can happen again for me?

However, just recently I have felt the belief from others in my life. Others who have tried their very best to support me through it all. Or even those who may have had difficulty being supportive, yet are finding ways to help me believe. First of all, there is my "BFF". She is the friend that recently had Kennedy's cousin, "Baby G." My BFF, or "B", has really been through it all with me. She came into my life 3 years ago as a co-worker (probably at just about the right time) and instantly became like a sister to me. She has seen me at my lowest...and probably at my highest. Yet, when "B" became pregnant last February there was some strain put on our relationship. But the strain couldn't take away from the friendship. We worked through it and "Baby G" was the first baby I held after the loss of Kennedy. One day, "B" and I were driving home after a home visit of one of our students. We were talking about "life" and "future" stuff. We discussed the trials of what life has brought me and what that could mean for me in the future. However, one comment that stuck with me was this: "I bet you will be ready to have your 1st when I'm ready for my 2nd." Then, she stopped and said, "That will be your 2nd too." Although, we were too close to school for me to acknowledge the comment and the tears that were coming to my eyes, I plan on telling my friend sometime soon. First, that she acknowledged by first baby girl...and secondly for giving me hope that someday I will hold a baby here on Earth.

The second person who has recently made the 2nd baby comment was my dad. A little history on my dad...I am "Daddy's girl" through and through. I am the daughter that loves playing sports and watching them. March Madness is my very favorite time of the year and this love affair started because of my dad. He taught me the importance of sports...and he also taught me who to cheer for. I am the spitting image of him in so many ways, from looks to our love for sports. But one of the most common characteristics we share is our desire to keep everything inside. The need to keep the walls of emotions up and not let anyone in. I have only seen my dad cry three times in my life....once at his brother's funeral, once at my wedding, and most recently at my grandmother's funeral. It's not a common sight in 29 years. Yet, I never doubt my dad's love for me and the pain that he has felt watching me grieve. He doesn't come right out and say it very often, but all it takes is a hug and his comment of wanting me to happy that lets me know how much it hurts him too.

This was evident after hearing a story that my mom shared with me one night during dinner with her. She and my dad had just returned from spring break vacation in Florida. As she was telling me all about it, she turned to me and said, "Your dad said something to me that I think you should know. One night when we were sitting on the beach, he turned to me and asked, 'I wonder when we will have a second grandchild?'" My mom said that she answered with tears in her eyes, "I don't know, but I wouldn't count on your son anytime soon." It made me smile and cry at the exact same time. My dad, the one who often tells me that miscarriage and stillbirth aren't uncommon and tries to make sense of the whole situation, had not only acknowledged my baby but had addressed that there may be a time that a 2nd baby would be part of my life. Because without actually hearing the comment, I know that my dad was talking about me. Yes, I have a brother, but he's just not even close to that point in his life just yet.

These are only two accounts, although there have countless others, that have recently happened that triggered that feeling of hope again. Of hope and remembrance. Two gifts that I wish for all of us. The hope of future babies here on Earth. And the lifetime of remembrance that our babies in Heaven will always receive from us and others here on Earth. People who give me those gifts are my small miracles. They are the miracles who have suddenly appeared and made it "better" or "easier." They make life bearable in times when it's not. They accept me for who I am and my story for what it is and are okay with it. They are the ones have helped me through this...and who I will need to continue on in this journey called life.

13,128 hours

It has been exactly 13,128 hours since I found out my little girl had left this world to join the other angels in Heaven. That is 547 days. 18 months. 1 1/2 years. A lot of time. But then in the same breath, it seems like not enough time. Or like it was just yesterday.

As an Early Childhood teacher, I know what a child who is 18 months should be doing.
These are a few examples:
-starting to show interest in running but with very little coordination
-scribbling on paper (creating masterpieces)
-feeding herself with cup and spoon
-shows affection
-listens to stories
-some imitation

My daughter will never do those things here on Earth. But I do often wonder what she is doing in Heaven. I feel like her life has given me new goals and purposes to fulfill. However, I haven't really done a lot of thinking about what her mission is. When she left this Earth and entered Heaven, what is her purpose up there?

Sure, I have thought about how she looks down on me and keeps a watchful eye on all the people that I love. But what is her job up there? What is a baby angel's mission in Heaven? Does she provide the same wonderment and endearment that a baby on Earth does? Do people try to make her laugh and giggle? Does she fulfill that need to someone in Heaven that never had the chance to have a baby? I hope she does all of those things and more.... I hope my baby fulfills and follows through with her purpose in Heaven. I hope she brings sunshine and happiness to those around her as she does in mine down here.

Happy 18 month birthday, sweet Kennedy Kate! Love you always and forever.

She just doesn't "get it."

My plan for this post was totally different....I had other ideas in mind. And then I was shaken up by a Facebook message. A message that I awoke to this morning on a day with the sun shining and Earth finally looking a little friendlier in Wisconsin. I thought today would be a good day, and I still believe it could be. Just gotta get this off my chest first. I think?!

My message came from a really close friend of mine from college. A friend who I consider one of my best friends. A friend who I thought "got it." Let's call this friend "K" for anonymity purposes. K lives in Wisconsin, but is a little too far away that we don't regularly see a lot of each other. K is one of those friends that early on after the loss of Kennedy, she would regularly email or send cards just checking in on me. She would always say, "When you are ready, let's get together." So, we finally were able to meet up in June or July of last year. I think I was probably ready before that, but time just got away from us. K and I had dinner that night in a nice restaurant that allowed us to just talk and catch up on everything. She wanted to know everything related to Kennedy. And I felt very comfortable talking to her about it. We were even then able to discuss how things were in my marriage with K's father. She could see the pain in my eyes as I discussed both things....and really listened to me. I left that dinner truly believing that she "got it." That she understood how my heart was still breaking from the loss, the possible break-up of my marriage, etc. There was never a question in my mind.

Then, I saw K last September. Right around the time that I had decided to move out. She even had found a butterfly coaster that she had specifically purchased in memory of Kennedy. What an amazing friend! Again, K and I found time during the wedding reception that we were at to walk around and talk about life and how things were going. She was such a good listener and made me feel so comfortable to share all of my innermost feelings. I, again, left that night feeling secure in my friendship with her and knowing that she was on "my side." The side that supported what I was feeling and everything I was going through.

Which leads us to the present...well, kind of. K got pregnant in early October. She announced it right away....and was extremely excited about this event in her life. As she rightfully should be. And I was honestly excited for her. Yes, maybe a little jealous too, but truly excited and happy for her. K right away started sharing emails with me about her pregnancy....ultrasounds, doctors appointments, etc. I wasn't entirely sure I was ready for these emails, but I read them, and often would respond back. They were very difficult to read at times...but I wanted to be a good friend to her and show her that I could be supportive of her too. After all, this was the friend who had been there and showed me her support during some of my most difficult times. However, I realized that I would often talk to other babyloss moms or my grief counselor about these emails. I could see that they were harder on me than I thought. So, I think I stopped responding eventually, maybe right around the time that K found out her baby was a little girl. I remembered how I cried the night I found out. Again, not because I wasn't happy for her, but because I was missing my little girl.

I know that many new moms get into this "pregnancy bliss" time. Although, I'm not sure I was ever really there given the constant sickness I experienced throughout the entire time I carried Kennedy, I know that it's a little bit naivety that plays a role. This was the friend who was on the phone with me, 10 weeks pregnant, and was telling me how her husband had just put up the crib. She was excited...living the life of pure bliss....ready for this next step in her life....ready for her dreams to come true. How could I rain on that parade? The friend who had lost her baby girl 12 weeks from where she was. So, I joined right in. Talking about baby stuff, how she was feeling, etc. I genuinely wanted to know, but there was also a part of me that was putting on a "strong front." Guess it's probably easier to do over email and phone than if she had seen me "in real life." I'm guessing my face would have said it all, but maybe not. Maybe I am growing....

Well, as you have all probably figured out, the shower invite arrived in late February. Right around the time that I was sick and then was grieving for my grandmother. Yep, perfect timing, right?! I knew it would come. I didn't doubt it. Did I kind of dread it? Yes. But I had prepared myself....kind of. The beautiful "pink" note came sharing all of the events of a joyous occasion. An occasion that I knew I would not be able to attend. I knew this in my heart....yet, when K asked me about it in late March, I said that I wasn't sure yet. I believe she took this as a "yes."

Which brings us to this morning and the "message." Just a little lead up to the message, K had sent me an email a couple weeks ago wanting to get together on the 22nd. Unfortunately, I was not able to make that given other set plans for that day. After that email I sent back about a week and a half ago saying I couldn't make the 22nd and was not ready for the shower, I hadn't heard from her. I called her once, sent a couple text messages, etc. I figured something was up. So, finally, I receive a message from her. A message that made me cry. A message that brought up all of these feelings of wanting to move on. Or the desire to return back to the "old Alissa."

In the message, K writes how excited she was to see that I had RSVP'd "yes" (again...mistake). She thought it would be the perfect growing experience for me in taking that next step. She expresses that she cannot pretend to understand what I am feeling, but that she feels she has a better understanding since being pregnant with her daughter. Then, she went into writing about how she feels that I'm missing out on major events in my loved ones lives by not attending showers or meeting babies (in my follow-up email, I told her that I have met and held babies). She fears that if I cannot attend her shower then will I ever be ready to meet her little girl? (again...I have met and held other babies). She ends her message by telling me that I need to face my fears with the support of those around me. She wants to see me move through these rough times and maybe find some light at the end of the tunnel. She mentions that she wants to see me accept that maybe the things that are happening around me are for the better and are meant to be. She doesn't see me doing that right now, and thinks that I'm slipping away.

Sorry, if that was a little rough to follow. In other words, this is the way I took the message this morning, "I'm sad that I cannot be the one to help you through this enough for you to be ready to attend my shower. I wish that you were closer to being ready than you are. I worry that you are dwelling in the past and not realizing that 'everything happens for a reason.'" In many ways, it felt like she truly didn't get it. I know that wasn't her intention....or even to make me feel this way. BUT, it was a major letdown. Because I thought she did get it. I thought K accepted me and supported me no matter what. I thought she would be one of those friends (whom I have already had in my life) that would say, "It's okay if you don't come, but I had to send you an invite anyways." But she wasn't...and it hurts. And maybe it hurts more because I feel like I have been doing so well as of late. Like I'm stronger than I was two weeks ago, a month ago, 6 months ago. I feel like I'm connecting to people I had lost touch with in the last 2 years. I feel like I'm more comfortable talking about Kennedy and then leading into the break-down of my marriage. I do see a light, but then I get this message, and it worries me. It makes me feel as if I'm stuck. I hate that feeling. I'm ready to keep moving through this grief. I ready to find "healthy" ways to remember my daughter by setting up a Memorial Walk, creating a Face2Face group, etc. I felt like I was doing that. But maybe not to the extent that K wants to see...or maybe she's not seeing it since I don't see her or talk to her on a regular basis. Maybe she thinks I'm stuck just because I won't go to shower? I tried to express that in my message back to her, but I'm still worried she might not truly understand. But how can see? She hasn't experienced this. She can't begin to fathom what it feels like as she carries her healthy baby girl. She can try to imagine...but as we all know, it's much worse than you could ever even think.

It just sucks. There is no other way to put it. I think that I had put my heart out there for her to read and understand. And she can't. I get it... It doesn't make it any easier to accept...but I do get it. :(

We all have a bond...even college basketball coaches

An article about these three coaches recently went around the internet and on Facebook. Then, during the Final Four Show for the 2011 college basketball tournament, CBS paid tribute to these three men and their babies. I was truly amazed that my favorite sport and "season" had gone out of its way to talk about a topic that we all find to be "taboo" in society. Here was a 10 minute feature during one of the most publicized events of the entire year and being targeted to mostly men. I could hardly believe it!! It made me realize something, though. People are talking.... People are reaching out. People are making it known that it's no longer okay to just "shove it under the rug" or "move on." People like all of us. Thank you to all of you for sharing your stories with others and making sure that all of our babies are never forgotten.

What I will overcome....

"You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know ~who you are ~what you can rise from ~and how you can still come out of it. " — Maya Angelou

The word "defeat": beaten or overcome; not victorious; "the defeated enemy"

To be defeated....to be overcome....to not win. To be the one at the end of the game who "lost." To be the one who fought tooth and nail for something but came up just short. Sounds very similar to what we have all felt after the loss of our children. A feeling of "loss". A feeling of "just coming up short." A feeling of incompetence. A feeling of not fulfilling our dreams.

I think we all do a lot of wondering...worrying....thinking about the what ifs. I know that we question the world. Our faith. Our health. Etc. We question it all because we try to make sense of a very senseless situation. I know that I have even had a very difficult time with the phrase, "Things always happen for a reason." When people would say that to me, I wanted to hit them. Ask them what reason there could possibly be for the death of a baby. Ask them why if there is an All Mighty God that He would take away something so innocent and precious as a child. There didn't seem to be a reason whatsoever. I didn't want to listen to the reasons. I just wanted my baby with me.

Although I still have issues with that phrase particularly because I feel that it's overused. I have come to find ways to think about the reasons. I may be more rational in my thinking of what Kennedy's life would have been like. What my life would by like. And the possibility of that it just wasn't meant to be. These reasons don't take away the pain. I think they just make me think clearer and maybe reach a level of acceptance of what my life is like now and what is yet to come.

This new level of acceptance takes me to the Serenity Prayer:

"God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference. "

There is a new level of understanding in me. A new level of compassion and empathy. A better understanding of some of the purposes that I am fulfilling in my life and in that of others. It doesn't take away my pain. Or my sense of loss. Yet, it gives me something else to think about. I feel the need to help others that have experienced similar tragedies such as we have. I feel the need to teach others about the journey through grief. A desire to help others understand that it is a life-long process and journey. I have renewed strength in figuring out where my life is headed and what path will take me there. It's interesting that one event has completely changed who I am....and what effect my life and Kennedy's will have on others.

Because in my mind, I have been defeated. I have been hurt...I have come up short. I don't have my baby here with me. The baby I went through hell to keep. For some "reason," it just wasn't meant to be. Yes, of course, Kennedy was sick. I was sick. But things like that can be overcome and lived with. However, that wasn't the case for me or for my baby. Kennedy is a gift to me no matter where she is. And she is a gift to others. Kennedy has left me with dreams to fulfill and people to touch. This "defeat" will continue to be a life-long journey. A journey to teach me ~who I am ~what I can rise from (which is a lot) and ~how I can come out of it (which I will always be learning). I won't enjoy the ride without my baby, but I will make the most of it in her memory.