Like a dream

Dear Harper,

I have been thinking about you a lot lately. And then today I read a blog post from the baby loss community and it made me realize so many things about our journey. 

People dance around their feelings out of fear of someone thinking they are wrong. I,too, am guilty of this, I don't post things because I often worry how they will be perceived. That being said, I am a new me and I'm stepping out from behind that curtain and talking more openly. More honestly. Let me be clear, this post is not for the faint of heart. It's a mess and some of it ugly. But it's my mess and I wouldn't change it for the world. 

We dance around words. Try to make things prettier than they are. The fact is, you died. You didn't get to greet this world with screaming. You came into this world silently. I remember the moments vividly. But saying that you died sounds ugly so I waltzed around it and used nicer words when speaking of our story. 

Even as I held your lifeless body in my arms, I felt many things. I was heartbroken beyond the explanation of mere words. But I had an overwhelming sense of pride. Mixed with my grief was a small joy. You were BEAUTIFUL and I made you. I was a proud mother. I was proud of the sheer divinity that I had created. I felt that there was no truer words than the saying 'too beautiful for earth'. 

According to the etiquette of life, as given to us by society, it was wrong for me to have that moment of pride when the circumstances were nothing but cumbersome. But, Harper Lynn, you were beautiful and I was proud! I looked at your sweet little face, laying in my arms so peaceful and I cried. 

I wept because you would never see the nursery, you would never meet your siblings and no longer would you hear the sound of my voice whisking you away to dreamland. I wept because of your perfect little face, and perfect tiny fingers and perfect tiny toes. I sobbed as I held you, from pain, from pride. How could grief and joy mix so harmoniously on July 12, 2010? That's not right. I shouldn't have felt those things together. Or so I am told.

I spent the next 12 hours with you. Hoping, wishing that things were different. Yet I found smiles amongst the tears as I ran my hands over your short black hair. It reminded me of your grandma. I sat in a sobering silence as the nurse wheeled you out of my room for the last time. I gazed upon the bassinet which held my daughter. The one who died. 

I sat in silence for the rest of the day. The nurses came in and out, feeding me pills to make me forget. But how do you forget losing a piece of your own soul? People came in and out, I spoke, mostly out of a drugged stupor. Remember not the things I said because I don't. 

I remember listening to a newborn scream in the neighboring room all night that night and I was angry. I was red with anger. Not because I lost my baby but because that baby needed to be held and the new mom was 'too tired' to do it. So the baby went to the nursery. I would have killed to hold that baby, to tell it that everything was okay and that it was loved. 

I remember walking across the hallway to the nurses station that is nestled in the center of the birthing rooms, nursery and patient rooms. I stared at the door of the delivery room you were born in. It's not with the others, it's by itself in a corner. It's for those moms who don't get to show the world their baby.  Then the nurse asked me if she could help me, it broke my stare and I remember looking at her somberly. 

I lost track of the conversation with her, maybe because of all the medications I was on. But I heard a baby cry, so I looked past her and saw a deliciously fat baby waiting for placement in a foster home. I wanted to hold her. Love her too. But instead I had to be brought back to reality. The nurse, so nicely and carefully brought me back to the reality that you had died and asked if I needed help. I did need her help...I needed her help filling out your stillbirth paperwork. I wasn't sure what boxes to check. 

That night in the hospital was nothing but sobering. Filling out papers saying you were dead, figuring out how to arrange a funeral for a baby, and knowing you were just down the hall...in a morgue. I can't remember much after the paperwork, they medicated me some more and tucked me in for the night. 

The next morning, I woke and I showered. I stood in the tiny bathroom looking at my belly. Trying to comprehend how yesterday I had a baby and today I didn't. And I got mad. I wanted to go home. I wanted out, NOW! I wanted to go home and explain to my kids that they weren't going to have a sister in the capacity that we had talked about. I washed my hands as I looked at my own tear stained face in the mirror, I remember losing focus again on the water rushing down the drain and realizing that water held a lifetime of dreams. 

The doctor came to check on me, I remember your dad doing most of the talking because I had little to say to anyone. The nurses brought us things and told us things and I didn't hear them. Their words fell upon deaf ears. I remember wanting to go home. He said I could go, he'd have the discharge papers done and in about half hour I could go home. I nodded ever so slightly as he walked out the door. 

What was that? All the rushing we heard as soon as he walked out. There was a ruckus being raised and I wasn't amused. I sat on the side of the stupid bed, in the stupid hospital, waiting for a stupid doctor to let me go get in my damn car and go home to a babyless home. Your dad went out to see what was taking so long. Oh great, I couldn't leave this nightmare behind  because someone had a baby. I was mad, I just needed out. 

Finally, after what felt like years, the nurse brought some papers that your dad took. And next thing I knew I was walking down soulless hallways through an endless maze to the doors of the hospital  carrying all that would ever be considered your belongings. 

I walked into the house, to your brothers room and climbed into the bed you and I had shared for the last 6 weeks while I was on bed rest. And I went to sleep. I didn't eat. Didn't talk. Just slept. 

I had to plan your funeral the next day. Flowers came, cards came, your service came and went. I remember very little. Just the black hole of a mind that I was swimming in. I came and went but didn't have much to say. I took my medicine and breathed. 

You couldn't ask for much of me. That was all I could manage, breathing. People checked in, I faked the smiles, and I was nothing but a shell of a mom to your brother and sister. If it hadn't been for Holly, your sister wouldn't have had much of a birthday. I just couldn't muster it. My birthday was spent teetering on the edge of madness and with family. Your grandparents took us to dinner. I tried hard to enjoy it but without you there just wasn't much to enjoy. 

The days and weeks passed, I spoke of you often, cried even more, and just breathed. I had given up, I wasn't a person, I was the remnants of a once very lively person...I was letting it all go. 

I threw myself into volunteering in your sister's kindergarten class. I did PTA stuff. I was spending as much time at school as they were. It kept me from being with the demons in my own head. Kept me from succumbing to the emptiness. 

And mere weeks after your slight moment on earth, I got two lines on the pregnancy test. I was having a baby. 

Honestly, I thought it would fix me but all that positive test did was create a sheer panic. I wanted to be excited, I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be elated about it. But I couldn't get over the idea that, whoever was on their way, would die too. How do you get excited about something that you've already decided you most certainly won't get to keep? 

It was a gauntlet of emotion. If it was to be felt, I felt it. I was scared. Scared if having to do it again. Scared of losing another child, which I knew that my heart could not handle. It would be the final nail in the coffin. Which as I typed that, I giggled because it such a morbid thing to type in a post such as thing. But it is nothing but the truth. 

Life was zooming around me as I stood still. Weeks passed with the pregnancy, my belly grew, I saw you weekly on that screen, heard your tiny heart beating stronger and stronger. But I was still hanging on to the what ifs. It made it hard to be over the moon. 

And then the day came that they asked if I wanted to know what the baby was. Of course I wanted to know. But then those words escaped the technicians mouth, it's a girl. I felt a rush of many things in that moment. Was I going to get to keep her? Was this really happening? I need more pink! We need things for her! I want pink! 

Over the course of the pregnancy I went through ups and downs, emotionally and physically. And as we neared the end of wait, I was beginning to feel the excitement. Her room was ready and she was named after you, Harlyn. 

She got here, I heard the tiny cry from the massive squishy baby and my heart stopped, tears bled down my face. But it was mixed emotions. It was more than I understood. I was sobbing because my perseverance had paid off but also because I was here, I was having another baby because you weren't here. It took me down a quick flash of memory lane. I cried because you were gone and because she was here. 

There is more truth than can be written when I say that Harlyn saved my life. She pulled me from the abyss I was losing myself in, she made me able to move forward, she made me realize that I could miss you and be happy. It wasn't until I saw her that I felt happy again. She was massive, and beautiful, and she looked just like you. It was stunning to see her face and see your resemblance. 

I spent 10 months so afraid I would forget you that I forgot to live. And in the moment of seeing your sister's face and seeing you there I knew that she would never let me forget a moment. You and her did something amazing on June 6, 2011. Without being here, you made me realize that I was going to be okay. That even without you in my arms I was gonna live.

I spent her first months sleeping only when others were awake. I stared at her all night every night because it was so surreal to finally, after 18 months of being pregnant, had a baby to call mine. A baby that was here. There was fear mixed with that. I was scared she would be gone when I woke up. 

She is two and a half. And it's been two and a half years of crazy, insane fun. I miss you everyday. But Harlyn showed me that I'm allowed to be happy even though you're gone. Doesn't change that I love you, or that I miss you. Or that I teeter into the abyss sometimes when things get overwhelming. That pain is a welcome visitor at times because it helps remind me that I need to never take anything for granted. And it reminds me that you were here and weren't just a figment of my imagination. 

Three and a half years ago my life was flipped inside out and I was tossed into an abyss that only I could climb out of. Three and a half years later, I stand before you, still breathing, still living, my heart still beating. I am living a dream. 

Happy Birthday Darling

Today is your birthday, it's bittersweet for me. You're not here yet we celebrate. Happy 3rd birthday my darling. Three years have come and gone in the flash of an eye. 

I sit here on the deck watching the stars and listening to the grasshoppers sing as I type this out.

How can one's heart be so heavy yet so light and joyful? It's impossible to answer, yet, here I sit feeling this way. Sorrowful yet elated. 

There are so many things I wish you could see. So many things I wish I could show you. I'm sure you see all that I do from where you are but it would be grand to put you on my shoulders and let you see the world from here. It brings me pain to know that I can't ever do this with you in this life. 

The overwhelming sense of joy comes from seeing all the great things that were accomplished today in your honor, in your name. Pure unadulterated happiness spews from within knowing that your name rang openly across the world today. That so many acts of kindness were bestowed upon society for you and by you. 

I sit here writing this blog with a heavy yet happy heart and tears both sad & happy stain my face. I miss you more than I could ever put into words but seeing your greatness put into solid action today was stupendous. 

Today was not cumbersome. Today was not dreary. Today was not filled with gloom. It was beautiful, filled with happiness, filled with grandeur, and with smiles. 

I smiled more today than I have in probably a year. They were genuine and heartfelt smiles as I opened the doors for others, as I said hello to every single person I saw today. My heart danced in pure bliss as I walked through the day. Feeling my phone shake in my pocket as I worked and seeing messages for you. 

I passed on many acts of kindness for you. I giggled in delight every time I saw another one taking place. 

Everyday is a new learning experience for me. Today's lesson was that kindness IS contagious. You show your smile and the world smiles back. You put out positive vibes and the vibration you receive is positive. Lessons in life are given when you least expect them. And sometimes in the hardest ways. Thank you sweet child, for the lessons you have taught me over the last three years. You amaze me! 

While I wish more than anything that things were different and that you were here with me I still feel blessed to have known you at all. You are one incredible little girl. 

You've made me a better mother, a better person and reminded me that I believe that people are inherently good. That this world, while lurking with evil, is a beautiful and happy place. For these lessons I can never repay you. 

Happy Birthday Harper. You are loved and missed. 

Love always,

Mommy

There is no way and there never was

Dear Harper,

I have been writing to you for some time now. Writing has always been a passion of mine. I went to college to be a writer. For nearly 16 years I have been eating, sleeping, and breathing writing. It has waxed and waned over that course. Months of writers block setting in, no words to type, no pencil to paper.

I waited ten months, ten long months to write to you again. It is not because I don't love you, but because the words were escaping me. I let them disappear. It had died inside of me and I was waiting for a rebirth. It happens from time to time. My purpose has always been to tell you things you need to know so that maybe one day I can help someone who is weathering the storm set before them.

It was nearly thirteen years ago when I stepped foot onto campus the first time with big dreams of being an entertainment journalist. Things seemed promising. But that was not my destiny. For a while I thought that my dream had escaped me. That I had let it get away by being a 20 year old that had better things to do that my course work. Oh how wrong I was. The best is always yet to be.

I never write for me anymore, it's always for you. While writing relieves a certain amount of emotion that builds up, it isn't for me. I always dreamt, even from the start, that my words would move someone. Empower them. Encourage them to become the person they were born to be. I believe I was born to be a writer, though my words never set forth that encouragement, only strung me along the way. Atta girls coming from time to time.

I spend lots of time writing to you in my head, sometimes my finger never touch the keys. But please believe, that when they do it is nothing but heart felt, gut wrenching emotion pouring out from them. Do not pity me for they are not always sad tears. In fact, often times they are tears of absolute joy that I got to know you at all. For that, I am thankful. You have carried me without even being here.

As your birthday approaches, my heart saddens, a loss that I will never get over. Time does not make it easier but I learn to move forward, never forgetting but using you as a catalyst to help others, to soothe their pain and to relate to their sorrows.

While losing you brought me the most wretched heartache, it also brought a breath of life into my soul. Empowering ME to become the person I am today. So I wanted to be a writer...and thanks to you I finally feel like one.

I love you sweet bean.

Love always, with a heart full of new wonder and excitement,

Mommy

I leave you with this sweet darling, it has inspired my life in so many ways. I thought I had a rocket exploding from me, a lioness roaring the words out, but I was wrong. You were my rocket sweet love, and for that, I thank you.

So You Want To Be A Writer

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.

and there never was.

~Charles Bukowski

so you want to be a writer?

  by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.


if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16549#sthash.jluerwyL.dpuf

the gift of laughter

Dear Harper,

I cannot begin to tell you how much I miss you. There are no words to put together to write down the emptiness and sadness that fills a spot in my heart where you were supposed to be. But then again, I cannot begin to tell you how much I love you, some things just aren't meant to be put into to words. Your death was so profound that it left an ever growing love yet an ever growing sorrow in my chest.

Then there are days like today, it's so sunny and so bright. It makes my heart light and happy. These are the days I miss you most, I miss the sound of what would have been your laugh. Our house, I like to think, is one of laughter. Sure, we have our days just like anyone, when we are not so pleasant to be around, but we are pretty easy going and fun people. I didn't want to be mad over you because I love smiling and I love laughing and so I chose that. I chose to be happy that I even got to know you.

I bet you would have had a sweet little giggle, a quiet cackle. I bet you would have done things to make my sides split with fits of joy. Even though you left a gaping wound, you left us the ability to find laughter again. I watched a video of your brother from a few years ago and giggled so hard I was crying. It was a moment lost until today when I watched it for what felt like the first time, even though I had seen a thousand.

I blog for your older sister and there are days I have a hard time writing them because I am laughing so hard. She says things you just can't make up. I get to smile when your little sister splashes me in the bath tub or giggles because I sneezed funny. I can giggle at things my friends talk me in to doing, like asking all of my friends to send me a dollar for my birthday. It is a fabulous thing you have done for me.

I think I laugh more now, since you, than I did before you. You made me realize just how precious each and every one of those moments are. My house may fall down around me, and I may have laundry piled to the ceiling but I know what is important above all else because of you. You gave me a gift of almost slowing time. Even though it is not truly slowed, you made it so for me.

Never again will I take for granted your big sister climbing out of her bed for the thousandth time to give me a "huggy" or a "kissy" because those are moment cherished, laughter shared as I tuck her in again.  I am sitting here, the house is all dark save for a lamp on the desk beside me, your baby sister tucked in the swing swaying back and forth with just low breath sounds coming from her, and I am giggling as I write this. It has reminded me of all the funny things that happened over the course of a lifetime.

I am replaying moments in my head and giggling quietly. Several times in the short letter I have been doing the silent body shake as to not wake your sister. Maybe it's because my heart is light in gratefulness for you. Maybe it's because I am tired. Or maybe....

Because of you I can laugh a little longer, and save the dusting for tomorrow because we never know how many breaths we have left. You have given me the gift of laughter back, and there is no way to repay you for that.

My never ending love little bean.

I love you,

Mommy

Have you ever seen the rain...

Dear Harper,

I was driving home on Saturday night, it was late and you see I had just gone to get Brianna from Aunt Julie's house. It was a sleepover gone awry, your big sister was homesick so I drove the half hour down to get her. Aunt Lee went with me because daddy was already in bed asleep and I hate driving by myself and it was a half hour drive each way. We listened to my iPod on the drive and it was all fun, bouncy, loud songs (and some of your baby sister's baby Einstein stuff.)

On the way home I turned it down low so your sister could doze in the car. I dropped Aunt Lee at her house on my way home and I turned the radio up slightly. Your message was coming across loud and clear, I love when that happens. As I turned the dial up just a couple of notches the song ended and the next began...Tears in Heaven. I smiled a little smile. *Thanks baby girl* I whispered in the quiet dark. This was, of course, one of the songs I played at your funeral. (It still feels unreal to type those words...at your funeral.) We played Somewhere Over the Rainbow too, it just seemed fitting for you. I let it play through, these songs no longer make me cry but smile because of how much I love you.

As I crossed the railroad tracks and headed toward our house the song changes again. Have you ever seen the rain....the words pierced my ears.

"'Til forever on it goes through the circle fast and slow,
I know, and it can't stop, I wonder.

I want to know, have you ever seen the rain?
I want to know, have you ever seen the rain
comin' down on a sunny day?"

Tears burned my eyes, by this time I was sitting in my driveway, it was almost midnight but I couldn't turn the car off, I couldn't just turn this song off. It was so much of how I have felt in the last year and a half, so much of what I was feeling in that moment.


I realize now, why when the stages of grief are pictured it is done in a circle. It never ends, you are just at different stages at different points. At that moment in the car I felt myself circle through all of them again. I hurt so bad in the 3 minutes, I longed for you. But in that moment I knew that you are always with me.

I had experienced the calm before the storm, I had seen the rain. Everyday, as I look into your brother and sister's faces, I see the rain comin' down on a sunny day

I miss you Bean, and I love you even more.

Love always and forever,

Mommy
I wanna know...have you ever seen the rain

Multiplied

Dear Harper,

My friend Keri seems to have said it best when she captioned a picture of her rainbow on facebook "The love I feel for you always seems to be multiplied by two..."

When I look at your baby sister I feel this way. I feel all the love I have for you plus the love I have for her. Looking at her makes me so thankful and then I get even more thankful that I was given you, even if only for a brief moment. 
 
I find you everywhere, in every beam of sunlight trickling into our house, in the quiet laughter of your big sister and her friends. I find you in the explosion of toys your baby sister leaves in her wake.  I find you in the sparkle of your brother's eyes. You are there and I feel love that is multiplied by two. 


I find you in the storm, you are a guiding light to get me through. I find you when things go just right, or when I am running late and need a parking space, you are always just right there as my ever loving, guiding hand. My heart swells, and often as do the tears. You are there.


I find you in the breeze as it whispers your name, I find you in the leaves rustling the same. I find you in pennies in parking lots, and I find you in the clouds in the sky. Every where I go, you are there and my love is multiplied by two. 

Even though you are not with me I find you in everything. I find you in my joy, I find you in my pain. I find you in the sun and I find you in the rain. And though you are not in my arms, I find you in my heart. 

I love you Bean.

Love,

Mommy

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there... I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow...
I am the diamond glints on snow...
I am the sunlight on ripened grain...
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you waken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of gentle birds in circling flight...
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry—
I am not there... I did not die...

Acceptance...

Dear Harper,

I need to talk to you, I need to tell you about grief, about my grief. I recently saw a picture that was the stages of grief. It supposedly comes in seven stages.

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Guilt
6. Obsession
7. Acceptance

I can vividly, just as if it were yesterday, remember the moments of each of the stages as I passed through them. Denial was immediate, they told me your heart had stopped beating and in words that I will never forget the doctor, as he ran the ultrasound wand over my belly that still held you looked at me and said "It's not good kiddo." I denied every moment that was happening to me, you were still alive in there, just sleeping. Ashton Kutcher was going to pop around the curtain any minute and punk me. He was lying to me, why would he do something like that. I felt my heart break into a million piece, it is a moment when I stopped breathing, I stopped living for just that speck of time. You were fine and I was going to have you in my arms in October...deny, deny, deny...isn't that what addicts do? I was sure this was just some horrific dream...it wasn't.

Denial seemed to pass very quickly though, apparently my mind is one of action, and all of a sudden as I was slowly trying to make the proper phone calls all I could do was try to bargain with God. I asked him to take me, you needed to live. I begged, I told God that I would do anything for you to live. Bargaining was taking place for the next several hours. I bargained anything and everything that I could think of just for you.

Then as they wheeled me from one room to my private room where I would labor to have you, bargaining left. They gave me medicine to ease the pain and it didn't help. They gave me medicine to induce labor, and after everyone left the room and all was quiet God and I made a bargain, while the bargain I would make would not bring you back to me, it would allow you to live on forever because I wouldn't let anyone forget your name. I asked God to bring me through this pain, I asked God to allow me the strength to make peace with your death. I bargained with him to help me so that I could help others. I decided I would not live in anger from your death, but peace so that I could help others going through the same losses that I was enduring.

It took almost 3 full days for me to be in active labor to deliver you. There weren't a lot of feelings in those 3 days because the hospital and doctors kept me so well medicated that I am not sure that I knew totally what was going on. But then you were born, your sweet face was there for me to look at and the depression set in. I held you and I was proud just like when your older sister and brother were born. I showed you off to my family and a select handful of friends. You were BEAUTIFUL. But I had to give you back, and I would never see you again, not here in this life anyway. I wanted to die, I wanted to curl up and die. I was sad and the medications they gave me didn't work. I laid in bed for days, I only had days to be on my own because your daddy had to go back to work and so did grandma and grandpa. It was the summer, I had your big sister and brother to watch after. I was still very sad, I laid on the couch and let them destroy the house without a care in the world. People came and went and I am not sure that I even noticed. Your sister had a birthday and I don't remember it..I was depressed and I was a non-existent mom in that time.

You were born July 12, 2010 and your memorial service was on July 15, 2010. I laid in bed, on the couch, wherever I could and always in my pajamas for almost a month. But then it was time for Kaden & Brianna to start school and it just snapped me out of it. I threw myself into volunteering for Brianna's class and that helped. It helped me start getting my body back into shape, and getting out of my funk. I still missed you terribly but I was feeling okay.

Anger came in between depression and guilt. Every time I saw on the news someone who was mistreating a child I would go crazy. I was angry because I knew someone who didn't take care of herself while she was pregnant, she smoked, drank, and did drugs but she got to go home with her healthy baby. It made me angry I had to give my baby to God while she did nothing good for her body  pregnancy but her baby went home healthy.  I would NEVER wish the loss of a child upon even my worst enemy, but I was angry at how unfair it seemed to be. I know stillbirth does not discriminate but I was angry that she didn't seem to want her child like I wanted you and she got to keep her baby and I had to give you up. I had to hurt for you, I had to spend my life without you and that made me mad.



Obsession really set in when I came home. Your sister and I were in the hospital for a week after her birth and I was okay while I was there but when we came home it was just me. I stayed up all hours of the night, watching every breath she took. I watched every little thing she did. No blankets, no heavy sleepers. I would sleep during the day when someone else could watch her so I could be up all night with her. I didn't obsess over your death, just found something to shift that obsession over to. It took 7 months before I would let her sleep with me watching with a blanket. The obsession made my body physically tired, you could see the lack of sleep all over me. I obsessed over every little thing with her.

She is now 9 months old, you would be 20 months old. I have accepted that there are things I cannot change about life. I have accepted that I am a baby loss mom. I have accepted that while I will never heal from this wound it is okay for me to live my life. I accept that I may not understand everything, but I do know everything does happen for a reason. I accepted that you are not here with me in this life but we will be together again one day. It has done a great deal for me because I feel like since I have accepted your passing, even without full understanding, that I can celebrate you in a better way. I  have taken your death, moved forward and never let your name be forgotten. I stand here as a shoulder for other bereaved parents, an ear for their cries. And I'll never let you be forgotten. 

I accept that you are my angel, and I feel okay with that. I miss you but I am okay.

I love you sweet Bean.

Love,
Mommy

just a letter...

Dear Harper, 

 I know it has been a week or more since I wrote last. I just don't want my letters to you to feel forced. These words that I write, they come to me on their own, they come from my heart and if they feel pulled it just won't be the same.

I have had a heavy heart, missing you so intensely lately. I am not sure why but it comes just as quickly and easily as the sun sets and rises. I hold your sister and long to hold you again. My heart has openly ached for you this past week. I think about you all the time, and when I stare into your sister's sleeping face I miss you. 

 People say things like "Time heals all wounds." or "It has to be easier now that you have a baby." but the truth in the matter is that those things are false. Time has not healed, nor will it ever heal the open oozing wound that your death left me with. A piece of my soul is forever gone with you. There are days that the pain of losing you is still so raw and new that it feels as if it just happened, then there are other days where the wound is just a dull aching pain. Time does one thing though...it passes.

It has been 20 months since you left my arms, so small and frail, yet so incredibly perfect. There is not a day that passes that I don't wish I had more time with you.  Your sweet smell burned into my brain, and every now and then when I am thinking about you I can smell you. 


If there is one word that does not describe me at all it would be skeptic. I believe in the forces of nature, and the forces of spirit completely. I believe that you are able to "visit" if you will, with us and let me know you are okay. I have always believed in the supernatural and a person's ability to commune with spirits. It started about 5 days after your memorial service, I still find it hard to believe it was MY child being memorialized. I had not read your obituary, I was reluctant because it made it so real. They laid on the wall separating the kitchen from the hallway for a week or better. I finally decided that I was going to read what was written about my sweet little love in the paper and all of a sudden our entire house was filled with your scent. You came to let me know I would be okay, you knew then what I needed. 


In the past 20 months, when my heart is aching in such a way, you filled my head with your scent. It is a scent that only you could have, so different from your sisters' smells. Brianna's is sweet like candy and Harlie's is almost floral but yours is just a hint of sweetness, and almost metallic. It is what you smelled like as I held you close for those few hours, it is what your hat & blanket smell like. I keep them tucked away but when it is exceptionally hard for me to breathe without you I open your cedar chest and hold them close.  

How has it been 20 months? I don't understand how the world can keep moving without you in it. How have I had another child and you don't know her? There are so many things I need you to know, so many thoughts I have for you.As I laid in the hospital, in labor with you,I thought about the choices I had, that I could let this rule my life forever and I could be mad about the hand I was dealt or I could pick up, try to mend the pieces of my broken heart and move along. 


I chose to let it strengthen me, to not let it define me but become a part of who I was in my life and to let it lead me to help other women who have suffered this travesty in their lives too. You have brought me to some of the most amazing women I have the pleasure of calling my friends, Corin & Deanna to just name a couple. They know you, they love you the way that I do and they know the suffering that is child loss. 


When my heart aches to hold you, I call upon those women who know this ache so well. They are there to hold my hand in a way only they can. So 20 months have passed, and I ache from this open oozing wound proudly calling myself Harper's Mom. Even in my weakest hour, in my misery, in my pain, in my tears, I am proud to be your mommy. You have taught me so much with so little. 


I love you Harper Bean, I miss you even more.


Love


Mommy

After the storm...

Dear Harper,

Time is going so quickly since I had children. When I was younger it seemed like "life" would never get here, I was going to be 7 years old forever. Now that I am an adult all I want is for it to slow down, to take a minute, to breathe. I want an infinite amount of time.

I need a minute to breathe. I always need a minute when I talk about you. At first my eyes water and I try to continue and then my voice cracks and I choke. It's not because I am ashamed to talk about you, but because some days talking about you takes every ounce of energy and every fiber of my being...I get sad, I am at a loss for words and saying "I miss you" just doesn't cover it. 25 weeks didn't cover it, I had a life time of words, hopes and dreams for you that just got shattered the moment your heart stopped beating.

Lately this happens more than not. I look at your baby sister and see her growing and I long for the moments I missed with you. I never got to hear you say "mama", she says it kind of drawn out.. "mmmmama" and only when she is mad or sad. Every other time it is "dada". I wonder what your little voice would have sounded like breaking the silence at 3 AM. It's the little things that get me more than anything. You forget all the little things that you would have missed because you are so focused on the big ones, like birthdays and such. I have a constant reminder of the little things, her name is Harlie Bird. I am thankful for those gentle reminders of the small things. Would you have been a booty scooter or a backward crawler?? Would you like veggies or fruits? Would you like grape juice or would you like apple juice? All the little things.

Last night severe weather moved through our area and I had the windows open in the house because yesterday was so incredibly beautiful for this time of year. The wind was blowing gently into the house. I love that smell, the smell of rain on the wind, the smell of a quick shower blowing through with lightning flashing in the background. I was thankful for the windows being open. Your baby sister was sleeping in the swing just next to the window and it made me even more thankful for her.

A lot of women call the baby they have after a loss their "Rainbow Baby". I figured this meant the wish that was "somewhere over the rainbow" but that's not the case. In fact it means  getting through the storm, there is always a rainbow after the storm. And last night as I watched the lightning and smelled the rain I was so thankful for the beautiful mess you left in your wake.

You have made me more thankful for the little things in life. You have given me an appreciation for all the things I would have overlooked, like messy feedings and extra messy bubble baths. Because of you I relish in these things. I take the time to BREATHE, I take the time to be thankful for everything I have been given in life.

It's a funny circle, I miss you so badly that I can feel my heart breaking and it makes me thankful for everything I have, all the small things and it makes me thankful to have known my sweet Bean. You are perfect in every way because you made me open my eyes, to see the beauty that is a messy floor & dirty diapers. The wonderful in a screaming baby at 3 AM. You have given me the power to know when a relationship needs to be nutured and when it needs to be let go. You gave me a set of sisters that are truly amazing women, and you made bonds with other baby loss moms for me. You have made me a stronger woman, and while everyone has faults (I know I do.) you have made me a better person.

I have so many people that I know I can talk to, who know exactly what it is that I am going through because of you. And now I have this amazing gift you have given me, to write you letters. There are so many things I have left to tell you.  It is amazing how something so terrible can bring so many together. We are all united in broken hearts.
 
I am forever grateful for the things you have given me....even if it is just the small things. I am so grateful for you, my sweet Love. You have breathed new life into me, you have given me great purpose. You have given me great love and a deep appreciation for the things I have in life. I have so much gratitude for you, even amidst the pain and tears there is so much to be grateful for. When I have a bad day I just remember my love for you, and the beautiful disaster you left behind. It made for a beautiful rainbow.

I am thankful for you...never forget that.

I love you sweet Bean.

Mommy

"May God give you...for every storm, a rainbow.  For every tear, a smile. For every care, a promise and a blessing in each trial. For every problem life sends, a faithful friend to share, for every sigh a sweet song and an answer for every prayer" ~Irish Blessing