Not a Waste

Two days before he died, my husband and I watched Doubt. It was yet another example of how one of Philip Seymour Hoffman's movies can change your perspective on things.

I remember thinking when it was over, how many incredible movies he had made and how many more he would make. Truth be told I thought he was more in his late 50s not 46, but still I thought he had decades left of cinema brilliance.

When I heard the news he had died I was not surprised. He looks washed up and hung-over on the red carpet, so it doesn't take a rocket scientist to deduct he may have been using something.

I also consider him almost genius like. Watching a movie he was in is almost uncomfortable. It is like he transcends the screen and you are actually in the room wherein the scene is taking place. Geniuses are troubled, whether famous or not. So it goes to reason, that often they seek solace, perhaps from their own minds, in substances that numb.

But what I can't seem to get off my mind, is the comment I keep showing up on feeds,

"WHAT A WASTE!"

Perhaps, you have seen it too. Or maybe the less hurtful one,

"He had so yet to give, what a waste of talent."

I get the sentiment I suppose, but what a misguided and frankly hateful comment.

His life was not a waste. He was human being. A human being that was with a person I follow on FB days before at their son's basketball practice. A human being that changed many through his movies. A human being, who was flawed like us all, and ended up with the worst possible outcome because of his choices. A human being whose life mattered just as much as my children's.

Since I have lost a child, I always go right to the mother and what she must be going through. Remember, his mother (the mother with which he wanted us to congratulate for his Oscar) is somewhere mourning. Think of how she sees her son. Think of how you would want one to see your child if they passed, no matter the circumstances.

So let's do what is best to do at these tragic times: learn from his mistakes in his death, but not create our own mistakes by belittling his life.

Empty.

I should probably write something today. Right? Anything. It is after all 365 days since we lost mom. Her "angelversary" (blah, yuck, gag...these are the words the come up after that word).

But I have nothing profound to say. I am empty without her. 

My mom isn't an angel or at least that is not who I remember of her. She was incredible, but she was not supernatural. Far from it. She had flaws, most of which we share.

Don't get me wrong I find great solace in the fact one day we will be re-united in heaven. But, I don't want to remember her as some heavenly being. I want to remember her as my...well as my mom.

...and she was a damn great one.

Guilt.

Twenty-two going on twenty-three years of juvenile diabetes and not a single complication. Even endocrinologist can't belive how well my body has handled the destructive disease.

I take care of patients who have lost limb, organ, and life to it's power. But not me. Nope, my body is fully functioning...for me. For my children not so much. My diabetes took out it vegenence on the kids. How unfair of me to allow it to do so.

What I wouldn't do to take on the wrath of this disease on my body and spare my children.

I naively thought I had two healthy pregnancies, but perhaps I was so preoccupied with the joy of holding my plump babies, I never stopped to think how the affects of the disease put them both in the NICU for days with hypoglycemia. My OB always referred to my pregnancies as healthy deliveries and while my gut told me they weren't, I chose to believe all was well and continued to get pregnant, even after the loss of the twins.

Lots of people miscarry. I was just one of the millions of women who did, right? Maybe. Maybe not. And while the pregnancy with our twins wasn't planned, Claudie's was. In fact, it was almost forced. I wanted a baby! Losing the twins pushed me to the brink and I knew the only thing to heal me was another child. So for months we tried and were disappointed, thinking perhaps God had given us all we were to have.

Then after almost 9 months of failed test, a positive one. It was a sign.

All would be well.

But all was not well.

Mom died.

We found out this pregnancy was a daughter.

We would name her after mom.

All would be well.

But all was not well.

Our daughter died.

I know only ultimately God has the power to give life and take it away, but I played with fire. I didn't know I was playing with fire, but it embers were consuming my child. The embers that never touched me, consumed my Claudie.

I can barely breathe from the it's all-consuming guilt.

All is not well.

My daughter is dead and my hands are stained with her blood.

Motherless Mother's Day

I am getting stomach cramps just thinking about Sunday.

I am not sure which will be harder not having my mom to hold me or my baby to hold this Mother's Day, but I feel their weight equally right now.

It is too hard of a thought for me to bear. So hard in fact that even if I dip my toe into it's reality a bit I jump out of the water because of it's sharp coldness.

But there is no way around it. IT IS MY TRUTH. My mom is dead. My baby is dead. There I said it. It is what it is.

I could go on and on about the wonderful lessons I have been taught over the last year, but truth be told all that keeps flashing through my mind is the phone call from my sister stating the paramedics are taking mom to the closest hospital and we need to come now.

 

The rushed drive with my dad in the passenger seat in a five speed back to Kansas City. Killing the car a few times because I hadn't driven a manual transmission in years and then arriving to realize then and there this was it.

Holding the almost dead cellphone to my mom's ear so she could speak with all of her 8 children as she slipped in and out of consciousness. 

 

I witnessed firsthand how she loved us all equally yet differently.

Hearing her tell me I was a good mom. Telling her the baby growing in my belly was to be named after her.  

 

Smelling alcohol wipes from the ER, when we should have been smelling French bread and brisket.

 

The taste of diet cokes to keep us awake through travel arrangements for the siblings, when we should have been sipping on ice tea in the warm, windy Ottawa spring.

 

The sounds of her monitors beeping when we should have been listening to the latest funny story mom had to share.

 

Seeing my mother's gasp for air before intubation, when instead we should have been seeing her relax and enjoy HER DAY as we pampered her.

 

That was Mother's Day 2012.

 

I am not sure what Mother's Day 2013 holds in store for us.
I hope the anticipation is far worse than the actuality.

 

I miss you so much mom, but there is no rather place I would want my daughter to be this mother's day than with you if not with me.

.  

SNOW DAY!

So today we got hit with a blizzard. It was fabulous!! I love snow days! They are always such a great reminder of WHO is in ultimately in charge, forcing us to calm down our hectic lives and refocus on what is important.

I was a little concerned last evening when I realized I hadn't got this week's groceries yet...

...and there was a 90% chance of freezing rain/blizzard by morning.

 

But after a long work day true to form daddy came to the rescue..

 

Since daddy couldn't make it out of the drive way he was able to spend the day with us too. He had to work and shovel...

...most of the day but just having him here is so comforting.

Since I now had a fully stocked frig, I decided to make a my favorite breakfast for everyone.

Almond French toast (and yes mommy made the bread too)

I think little miss likes it as much as me. She had four pieces...and a fifth for lunch.

 We had an afternoon treat of chocolate snow ice cream.

Pork roast and root veggies cooked low and slow all day and the house smelled exactly as it should on snow day.

Daddy took advantage of working from home and we watched Argo while the littles napped.

After they woke up, we decided to take the your brother and sister sledding across the street to Suicide Hill.

Despite Henry's shoes falling off twice and the snow drifts reaching Amelie's chin, we had a blast. Shh, don't tell your brother and sister but daddy and I might sneak back over there after they are asleep...only teasing (well kinda).

It seems whenever something happy happens, I miss you more. I couldn't help thinking about you so much today. When we found out you would be a winter baby, we were so excited that we would have an excuse to snuggle up in the cold with you. The winter has been mild so there hasn't been too much time until today to reflect on the sad reality that you are not nestled in my arms as the snow falls outside. But right now Henry is snuggled up next to me watching a movie and Amelie is snoring away as daddy attempts to shovel...again! And even though I am miss you terribly, I can honestly say I am happy for the first time in a long time. Is it possible to be sad and happy at the same time? Must be, because I am.

Return to Zero

I was so excited to learn of an upcoming movie that will tell the real not just the "reel" story as director Sean Hanish puts it of the aftermath of stillborn loss. I was shocked to read recently in an article from the NYT "Breaking the Silence" that while 2,500 babies die a year from SIDS, 26,000 die annually from stillborn loss. How many of us as moms know to put our newborn to sleep on their backs to prevent SIDS? Yet, there are still so many who don't even know that babies can die in this country so close or during the birthing process. What a huge health disparity. As a nurse, I know knowledge is power in order to prevent future death and injury. But I had no clue that 1 in 160 pregnancies ends loss after 20 weeks. Statistically speaking that means you will be affected by a stillborn loss, more directly put...

 you will know someone or be someone that loses a child.

I personally have a hard time with the word stillborn (see my post "Words/Phrases that Drive Me Nuts"). Although I feel the word takes away from the humanity of the child a bit, I also realize it is an important term we must educate ourselves on and empower ourselves and our healthcare providers against. I have yet to speak to an OB who hasn't had this happen to one of their patients, so why don 't we hear about how to decrease the risk and increase the knowledge?

I feel like it has to do with the age of the child. For some reason, we value life based on how old a person is. Anyone who has had a miscarriage or lost a grandparent has heard these questions:

How far along where you?  I found myself not wanting to answer this question b/c people assumed I couldn't be attached if it was only 10 weeks.

How old was he? Oh my granddad was 82 when he died. I guess since he lived a long wonderful life his loss is less.

It is like death is acceptable at certain stages in life: in utero and old age. This to me points to our lack of respect of life in general. While I understand on some level the acceptance of death for our elderly, I struggle immensely with our acceptance with it in our babies. When I loss the twins at 10 weeks, one of the first things I heard was 1 in 4 babies die in the 1st trimester we just don't know why, natural selection of sorts I guess. OK?!? So it just happens all the time. I guess I will just move on then?! Then when I lost Claudette days before her due date, I was left with little to no information. I thought this must not happen often. I was wrong! There is very little real info out there on the web and textbooks on stillborn loss.

50% of parents who lose their child will not know never know why.
This is too much!

In our case, we found out why and it could have been prevented.
This is unacceptable!

That is why I am thrilled that next year Return to Zero should make it's way to theatres to educate others about the devastation that unfolds when your baby is born sleeping. And as an added bonus for me Minnie Driver, who happens to be one of my favorite actresses of all time, stars in it!

Even in these early stages of loss, Dustin and I feel a deep need to spread the word. While it is very difficult to relive the details of our that dreadful day it was also the day our daughter was born and we love to talk about her! So we beyond excited a movie will come out that will give another reason to share our beautiful Claudette with the world as her name will be in the credits!!!
Click here to see Our Story on the Return to Zero blog

Words/Phrases that Drive Me Nuts

Angel baby  The idea is amazing. I mean it implies your child has angels wings and is watching out for us. Cool, right? Yes, there is some comfort hearing this, but for some reason from the first time I heard when I lost the twins it immediately took away their humanity. It took away my ability to be their mom. I am not the mom of cherub. I am the mom of chubby baby. Angels don't wear cute little clothes and spit up all over them. Angels don't cry from 3-5pm because they are gassy. Babies do.

"God needed another angel." See above. And might I add this one really adds zero comfort.

Miscarriage  The prefix "mis" is what throws me off I think. Like I carried the baby wrong or "missed" the mark or something. It almost implies wrong doing on the mother's part.

Stillborn In a way I like this term cause it actually says they were "still" born, meaning they actually existed on this earth. In a different vein I hate it because it implies they are "still" or stiff. It congers imagines of rigor mortis. I HATE it for that reason. Probably the worse reason I don't like this term is because I think a lot of people don't really understand what it means. By the way it means a loss of pregnancy after 20 weeks.

Rainbow baby This is a new one to me. I had to google it because I kept hearing it. Basically it is the term for having another baby after loosing one. I am sorry but it just sounds dumb. I get the sentiment that like a rainbow after a storm there is hope. But not only does it sound silly in my opinion it also kind makes it sound like all is well if you just have another baby. It probably also hurts because technically my rainbow baby died.

"It happened a reason" Ok,  thanks so did my morning BM.

"It was for the best" How is my baby dying for the best? How is my mom dying for the best? Yes, yes I get it; their suffering ended. But wouldn't the best be them not suffering and living a great life with us? I don't completely mind this one though because I know it ultimately is for the best because heaven is the way better than a life here.

"You have two beautiful children." What I hear: "At least you have other kids."  Kids aren't interchangeable. I think before I had kids my desire was just to simply be a mom and didn't realize the specialness of each individual child and pregnancy and therefore the unique connection that was made at each time I saw a pink line.

"You will have another child someday." What I hear: "Someone will replace Claudette." Seriously, if you lost your mom no one would say you will have another mom someday.

"Maybe your life was spared for hers?" My personal favorite (or least favorite). I mean seriously, does any mother want to choose their life over their child's? To me it also takes away the importance of her life. I don't think anyone would say that to a parent who lost a five year old.

You are probably thinking by now, "Geesh, we are just trying to help! I am never going to talk to her again." Honestly, everything I said above (well except that comment about your life being spared for hers) is ok to say to me. The fact is I used to use and still use some of these terms and phrases. It comes from a good place when people are telling me my baby is an angel. I know this. There real reason that all this causes me pain is well because death is painful. I want my mom's life to be more important than "for a reason". I want to remember my daughters ten fingers and ten toes she did have not the angel wings she didn't. 

Ok, I feel better.


Addendum 3 months later...
Probably the words that drive me MOST nuts are:
"" Can't think of anything that has been more painful that NO WORDS! Say something for crying out loud! SAY SOMETHING! You are afraid your words will be hurtful, there is nothing more hurtful than  SILENCE! I will give you too words you can say, "I'm here."

Harder Than I Thought

I knew the this was going to be difficult. I knew it was going to be take my breathe away with the pain sometimes. I knew it was going to be impossible to feel like I could go on at times. I knew the days would grow dark and sad. With all that it is still harder. I am sitting here in a messy house surrounded by Kleenex and cranky kids and I all I can do is sob. I don't know what to do.
Have you been there? So sad and overwhelmed you don't know the next step to take. That is where I am at.

Friday is what started the downward spin. I woke up to someone being offended by my blog. Hard because when I write it I am in another world of sorts. I get it all out and then often read it back through with the rest of you. It often feels like I have just had a great workout after I am done, exhausted but feeling better. I don't write to hurt others. The exact opposite really. I feel like if I am having these thoughts others must too.  I hesitated to even continue with the blog, but Dustin convinced me to continue.

Then mid-morning I had my six week post op check up. This was my first appointment without Dustin since it happened. The receptionist forgot to let my nurse know that  I was there immediately, so I had to wait a bit with a bunch of ladies about to pop and a couple of cute newborns. As much as it hurts, I do love seeing babies so  I was fine. Afterward, I picked up my hungry kids and went home. Let's just say they were less than perfect. By 3:30 I needed a margarita! Bad!

As soon as I sat down the phone rang. Dr. Mitchell. Maybe, I left something at the office? Nope. It was him calling me the autopsy results which ironically had been dropped on his desk during our appointment earlier that day. He offered us to come in. I said no and I wanted to hear them then. I grabbed the pen and pad we normally use for the grocery list. The results hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn't expecting us to have any answers really especially that early. I knew they could be back as early as 4 weeks but when we didn't have them back at the 6 week appointment I thought it would be months before we would get the results. I heard the doctor state lots of big words. Some words I understood from my medical experience, some I did not. The words I understood: macrosomia (a big baby), ascites (fluid in the abdomen), cardiomegaly (enlarged heart). Then a word I didn't: hydrops fetalis. It basically means severe edema in babies that is often fatal. Liver had been dead for 4-7 days. Other organs showed a time of death of a week previous. So she died most likely on Thanksgiving or very close to. And then he read the a part of the summary that devastated me more than anything I have ever heard in my life...most likely caused from maternal diabetes.

I continued to talk but I collapsed mentally right there. I could handle if I went blind or lost a limb because of this stupid disease but NO not the death of my child!! It is more than I can handle. I have had diabetes for 22 years and really not a single complication and this has to be the fate of this horrible disease?!

The guilt consumes me. I haven't slept more than an hour since I found out. Logically, I understand that I didn't do anything intentionally to hurt her, but it still doesn't change that fact that if I didn't have diabetes she would most likely be alive. And YES I know God was ultimately in control and the guilt is the devil's way of seeping in. And NO I don't want to hear, maybe she would be worse off if she lived or that my life was spared for hers. I will find a way to deal with all this I am sure someday but for now it is just harder than I thought.

We spend Saturday afternoon placing flowers on Claudette Elyse's grave. It is all so surreal.

Real Men Cry

I have been thinking a lot today about how grief effects men, namely the men in my life. I have had to lean on the men in life so much of late, all of them even the little guy who is pretending to be Fireman Sam right now.

Henry is my very thoughtful and pensive little four year old. He told us there were two babies in my belly well before we learned of the twins. He told us that Claudette was girl before I had the first ultrasound. He has always been super perceptive and with that has comes sensitivity. He much more than my daughter I have found needs hugging and reassurance. It has been really hard to see him deal with the disappointment and grief of loosing his sister. He asked me a couple of nights ago with tears in his eyes, "why do babies die before they live?" He is always asking questions like this. His sadness seems to always be at the surface.  I love his sensitivity however, because it also results in great compassion and truth be told what every mom really loves, more cuddle time with mommy. But what will happen when he is say a 32 year man?

Well if  the apple doesn't fall from the tree, then I lucked out, cause the 32 year old version of Mr. Henry is a thoughtful, kind and yes even sensitive man. No, that doesn't mean Dustin doesn't enjoy football as much as the next guy, but it does mean he isn't afraid to dare I say it...cry. For those of you who say real mean don't cry, then they haven't met my husband, because he is the real deal. I have never thought he was more manly when he was holding our precious little girl and crying, and not just tear in the corner of the eye but really bawling. I don't think I have ever loved my husband so much as that moment.

As my husband was overcome with tears, my tearful dad came over and embraced Dustin. While I joked that my support system was falling apart, I was actually so touched at the open emotions the men in my life show. They didn't try to stay strong for me and keep it all inside. In actuality it was more helpful that they didn't bottle up their emotions. I loved that they cried and cried and didn't care who saw or heard them.

But in reality men do not cry and vocalize their emotions as much as women. This often leaves the large portion of well wishes and good thoughts directed toward the women. It makes me sad for Dustin. While I have such a huge support system, Dustin has close family that haven't acknowledged the death of our daughter. About two weeks after we lost her, someone actually asked him, "so are things back to normal now?" He took it in stride as he does everything, but it would be ignorant of me to not know that it hurts him as much as it would me.

I also have watched my dad take things in stride with some supernatural strength.  They both inspire me so much in my own journey. I have gone to them for wisdom on so many matters and how to navigate this difficult time. They are always there for me and I realize their sadness is just as close to the surface as little Henry's. I don't pretend to understand the differences between men and women, nor do I wish to, but I do know this: we both feel the same amount of sadness and loss.

We have FIVE kids?!

About 90 minutes into our first date, Dustin asked me how many kids I wanted. I remember the moment so vividly mainly because it was a shocking question. I was standing right in front of Restoration Hardware on the Plaza. I looked at my shy date like he was crazy, but truth be told I think I realized I was in love with him right then and there. I was so excited to have kids and a whole LOT of them, so being asked that question was incredible. I told Dustin I wanted 8 of course. It was all I knew and I loved everything about being a part of a big family. Dustin said he wanted 5. As the years went on I decided five was perfect...8 was too many, 4 wasn't quite enough, 5 it would be.

Throughout the course of our marriage, we loved dreaming of our five children (Don't tell Dustin, but I secretly had them all named and renamed a bizzion times). We liked the idea of conceiving three and adopting two.

Henry was born and we were over the moon. Then his little Irish twin, Amelie,  was born 14 months and 1 day later. Thanks for the fertility gene mom!


My health was not great, so I was focusing on getting things "in control" before we conceived again. I think God giggled at that "in control" idea and much to my shock I was pregnant again. I'm not sure who was more excited me or my mom when she found out we were having twins. She was a twin herself and her twin sister's daughter was expecting twins as well. It was an incredible time!

This is what 6 weeks looks like with twins after you just had two over ten pounders:



Later we found out they shared the same sac and same amniotic fluid making them identical twins, which is not a result of heredity, but rather just a "chance" happening. This was even more shocking because our families combined make for seven sets of fraternal twins, which are highly hereditary. And then it dawned on my we would have 4 children under 3!!! YIKES!!! Things just kept getting more exciting!

By 10 weeks, I had several ultrasounds to rule out what is called MOMO twins. Basically, it means there is no divider between the babies and it often results in the cord entanglement. It requires hospital bedrest and monitoring sometimes as soon as 20 weeks. Despite hearing that I can honestly say I NEVER thought for a moment we would loss either of them. I can still see the ultrasound screen when the perinatologist told us neither of them had a heartbeat any longer. The babies were holding each other. It was heart-breaking.

I told myself that they would always be remembered. I told the kids they each had a guardian angel watching over them. I cried and cried and cried for weeks. It changed me. It devastated our family.

Something in us clicked and Dustin and I felt we needed to try to get pregnant again as soon as possible. So when we found out about little Claudie we were back on track for our 3 conceived babies and 2 adopted. I was assured a thousand times from everyone lightening doesn't strike twice. "No the last miscarriage wasn't a predictor of another." "Yes, this pregnancy was going fine." By 38 1/2 weeks I was convinced. You all know what happens next.

So when someone asked me yesterday how many kids did we had, I didn't know how to answer it. I mean how do you answer that question? I answered two. I felt so guilty, but I didn't want to make them feel bad about asking and answer two with an angel baby. Or do I answer two, with an angel baby and two other smaller angel babies?!

I don't know and quite frankly I can't stand  saying "angel" baby when it comes to Claudette. I feel like perhaps the twins are angel babies because they went from my womb to God's arms directly. But with Claudette she went from my womb to my arms. She was a child. It takes away her humanity some how. It is just another one of those terms that really bothers me, like stillborn. OK, that is a topic for another day.

Anyway, I just stood there like a deer in headlights not even knowing how to answer how many children I have. I have thought about that question so many times since her death. I know in our hearts and minds we have five child. No, it was not how we dreamed. No we don't have a table full of kids right now as we often discussed. But God has fulfilled our dream. How crazy does that sound? I watched a video last night of a woman who had two miscarriages back to back and when pregnant with her third she told God he could have this baby too. I had an epiphany. These five children that I thought I planned, were planned by God. They are His and I am His. So despite my sadness I am grateful my dream came true and that we have five kids.

January 3rd

Sorry for those of you have a birthday or anniversary or the like today. But what a depressing date: January 3. The 2nd you still have the holiday high and are kinda happy to be back in the swing of things. The third reality hits. You must get up every morning in the freezing cold and continue on until the next holiday, Valentine's Day, rolls around. (Yes, I love that hallmark holiday.) Now you just have to continue back to the grind of work, school, life. I know, I know, I sound very depressing.

But today was especially hard for me for the above listed reasons and that I received some "unedited" photos of her birth. For those of you have had a baby that died in the womb you know what I mean by unedited. Yes, I will treasure those pictures dearly in time and do already in a way. I am also deeply grateful to my dear friend and nurse for taking them for us.  However, for now I would be lying if I said they didn't hurt to see her that way. The most difficult aspect to see how my husband and I look. I was in shock for the first week I think, so I didn't realize what was happening most of the time. Seeing the look on our faces as we held our gorgeous daughter is alarming. Let's just put it this way, it is not the look you are supposed to have when you first lay eyes on your baby. Grief and shock fills our faces. But it is most beautiful to also see how much love was in our eyes the moment we saw her.  I never connected with my other children the first time I held them. She was different. I connected immediately. In fact, I felt I knew her personality before she was born and I knew I was right the moment I held her.

So when my husband arrived home from his work day, he found me in bed and sobbing. I hate to admit it, but it is true. I also started a new medication that makes me very nauseated and I struggled with blood sugars issues all day and stir crazy children so I was done by the time 5:30 rolled around.
My sweet hubby looked at the pictures, took his turn to grieve for a few moments, then looked at me and said, "I will get the kids ready. You look great. Let's get out of this house." Looked great?! Ya right! Concealer has become my best friend lately and I still have permanent dark circles and puffy eyes.

Going out was momentarily set back by seeing a darling little girl that looked like Claudie in the same carseat that she had, which is weird because I searched high and low for that color and make of carseat. And it didn't help that we saw the same dress we buried her in on clearance. But despite all that my wise husband was right. Sharing a salad, a little retail therapy and a redbox helped a bit.

So now I will snuggle up next to him and watch a movie and prepare myself for January 4- the first day back to preK for the little man.

An edited picture of the day...



When Glory Meets My Suffering

Saturday night we had a delightful dinner with friends. You know as grown-ups. No children menus. No trying to decide if mac n cheese or grilled cheese is more nutritious for your kid. It was so nice...and rare! Both of us realized neither couple had gone out with other couples in YEARS, like before we had kids years.

They are going through a loss as well and it nice to encourage each other in faith and frankly just vent and relax. They also have a scrumptious little 6 month old that crawled all over me and chewed my face. I now love getting my hands on a baby, especially newborns. I swear I almost stole a baby when I was in labor and delivery, unfortunately none in hospital were as cute as my Claudie so I went home empty handed.  I have heard it is called "empty arms syndrome". I hate to admit it but I sleep with a Claudette's elephant stuffed animal. At first as a way to splint the incisional pain, now as way to keep my arms from feeling empty. I need a bigger stuffed animal though. It doesn't feel like her since it doesn't come close to twelve pounds.

After about FOUR hours of chatting away, our friends needed to get their little one down and go home to their other children. We however, had Dustin's mom watching our kiddos overnight and despite wanting to crawl in bed ourselves, we decide to take advantage of the rareness of the occasion with a late-night cocktail.  We went to our favorite place for such a treat, McCormick and Schmidt's, not only for their AMAZING fresh drinks, but also because it overlooks the beautiful Plaza lights. So as I sipped my white sangria and Dustin his Bailey's and coffee we reflected.

White Sangria and Bailey's and Coffee...oh ya and dark chocolate espresso cake.

It was Dec 29th. Claudette was born and died on Nov 29th. One month had gone by. How differently we saw this month as going. My dear friend that went out with us to dinner gave us a card. Basically, it was a congrats card that we had made it through one month. That we were where we never thought we would be, but we had none the less arrived and God had seen us through and would continue to do so. It meant so much to me, not only had someone noticed the month of our daughter's birth, but someone had also acknowledged the struggle the last four weeks truly had been.

Then it hit me. She wrote that card so beautifully, because she had been there. She had traumatic events in her life that changed her similar to my change. No it wasn't the loss in the same form as mine, but it was loss and with the loss came grief and sadness all the same. After mom died immediately you know who has been there. You recognize it in their tone, their words and in their silent demeanor. It is club you don't want to join, but you have no choice. So you cling to others that have been there too. It is like it is your first day as a freshman in high school after being home schooled (I say this b/c I can related to that one) and you are looking for another person in the same boat. All of a sudden you see someone else with fear in their eyes and bam you are best friends.

I have thought a lot of how the parents of Sandy Hook first graders must feel. Logistically, their small little town was overwhelmed with death, so much that they had schedule their funerals two at a time. I imagine how they can't find solace in social media like I did, because instead of hearing only uplifting messages there were gun debates going on almost as violent as shooting itself.  I felt horrible for them...still do. I imagine they did as I did.  I imagine they looked around for that person that understands. I see them all clinging desperately to each other, saying little, crying a lot.

So as Dustin and I sipped on our cocktail we realized we are now people that others will search for during a tragic time. I felt the strong need to do something with this unwanted responsibility. I thought about writing a book, but let's be real, nothing I write would be published. (Heck, I have questioned comma placement 32 times in this post alone.)  So I thought about what I need. I want something real, tangible and daily that I could go to whenever I wanted to vent and read and interact. Thus, I have decided to start a grief blog. It may help no one but me, but I pray others will find it helpful on their journey to read about mine.

Here is an example of how we help each other in grief. As I was posting this blog. This song was sent to me from a new friend that found me in my time of grief, because her dear son was taken from her arms as well. I have heard the song a dozen times, but it has never meant as much as it does now.
Listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mxqfDs-64I0

 

Happy 2013

Today I read two books. I haven't done that, well, since I was competing for a free Pizza Hut personal pan pizza from Mid-Continent Public Library. Normally, I would be thrilled to have the time to do so...two toddlers leave little time for books other than Max and Ruby. But today it leaves me sad. Today, I should be consumed by diapers and nursing and chasing after her brother and sister. I shouldn't be cuddled up in bed reading grief books all day, while my husband keeps the kids at a distance. I shouldn't have time to read or sleep or eat. But I do, and too much of the latter.  I should be the mother of three kids not two.

It is officially the first day of 2013. A day I have longed for since the first few minutes of 2012, when I was cleaning up after a three year old sick little boy with the stomach flu. Boy, I had no idea what 2012 really had in store for me at that point.

Later on in January, I had to have gallbladder surgery. Again, at the time I thought horrible.

February kidney stones that resulted in my blockage of my right kidney and therefore a 3 day hospital stay.
 
By March I was done. We had been trying to recover from the miscarriage of identical twins the July before and were desperately trying to conceive. Another failed pregnancy test! I threw in the towel.

Then April hit and my period didn't. PRAISE GOD! Things were turning around. 

Then May and BAM! My mom whom had seemed to be doing better from an autoimmune disease and was finally an official candidate for a kidney transplant, took a horrible turn for the worse on Mother's Day.  A week later she was gone. Mother's Day was the day I was to announce publicly  I was pregnant. Instead, it was a day spent holding the phone to mom's ear so she could say "goodbye" to her other 6 children out of town.

June I started bleeding...bad. I had never had a bleed like that before and Dustin and I were sure our little button nose was gone. Thankfully, it was a fairly common issue in pregnant women and only resulted in bed rest for a few weeks. I laugh every time I hear that word "bedrest". As if it is possible with toddlers.

The following months of the summer were riddled with various "bumps".  Not the least of which was a massive outbreak of lice which traveled amongst the grandkids who all slumbered together for mom's funeral. But we tried to remain strong and overall were doing pretty good despite the huge hole my mom left with her absence.

By August it was decided it was best to stop working long 12 (actually 13) hour night shifts. Financially-strained is nice way of putting it.  

Fall things seemed better. I LOVE fall. We did all the usual things that a 7/8month preggo can do. October we celebrated the Amelie's birthday then our anniversary two weeks later.

Then November. Once my favorite month. My birthday on the 16th was spent at the funeral of my husband's beloved grandma. Dustin tried desperately to make the day special for me but at this point there just seemed to be too much grief (we also lost a great uncle, 2nd cousin, and dear family friend) and the first birthday without my mom was just too much. I was sick of explaining death to my kids. Thanksgiving came and we were ready to RELAX. Relax we did and plenty of it. We had a lovely day and spent the whole weekend taking the kids to Santa, putting up a tree and having a blast. I was SO happy. I was to delivered in 6 days!!! I had no clue my little button nose had died sometime between turkey and putting up Christmas lights. So now November marks death of our daughter.

December marks her funeral. A funeral that my father was forced to miss because he had to have immediate open heart surgery.

I write all this not to depress you (and me) but to outline why I am so done with 2012. But now it is 2013 and nothing magical happened at midnight. I didn't call my mom today and tell her Henry vomited again this year too. I don't get to snuggle with my daughter and feed her. Instead, I read two books. I watched the kids sled outside sad that I couldn't because I was still healing from the physical scars.  I listened to Dustin tell me about how our final working bathroom no longer works because of a huge plumbing issue. And I would be lying if I didn't say I am sad and overwhelmed already this year. But I also realized something: this earth is temporary, so we must take every second to live in the moment and use it for the greater GLORY! Who knows 2013 could be worse than 2012 and maybe 2014 will be the worst yet in terms of our earthly pain and suffering. Despite all the pain 2012 gave, it taught me intangible lessons about myself. Lessons one does not learn when blinding going through life.  One day SOON we will be re-united with our lost loves and that gives me great hope, but for now I am on this beautiful earth with my beautiful loved ones for a reason... So HAPPY 2013!

 Henry and Amelie ringing in the New Year

Letter from Mommy

My dear, dear sweet Claudette Elyse,

Your daddy and I have had our fair share of "surprise" pregnancies. But not you love. We planned and tried to conceive you for months. When I saw the faint positive line in the Target bathroom, I wanted to scream for joy. Your big sis Amelie was at my feet and she super excited too. After so many negative test this was it; we were going to be parents again.

Our pregnancy was not easy, especially at first. The week we were to announce your arrival my mommy went to heaven. Her name was Claudette Olive. I told her on her death bed I would name this baby after her, thinking I would use Oliver. Daddy and I so thought you were a boy. My mom's quick reply was, "no one wants to pass on a name like Claudette." She knew you were a girl before we did.

The week after she died almost to the minute I started hemorrhaging. We thought we had lost you. As soon as the ultrasound machine turned on in the ER we saw our little fighter for the the first time. Your little fist and feet were kicking away.There were scares after that, but I always felt you would be immune to something really bad happening, perhaps because lightening doesn't strike twice right?

A  few weeks went by and another scare. But instead of learning something was wrong, we learned you were a GIRL! Daddy and I were shocked and so excited. We immediately knew your name. Claudette (which means dies young) Elyse (which means God's vow of protection). Little did we know how the truth this name would hold.

The months went on. I felt you so much. You were so active, especially when your brother and sister talked to you. I grew to love you each second.As plans drew near for your arrival, your aunties got so excited planning their trips to be here. Your poppy, grandma, grandpa, pappa and nanny all were getting so excited too.

Even though you were our third child, we prepared as if you were our first. I got a beautiful, soft swing for you and packed your diaper bag for the hospital complete with a soft pink outfit.
One last appointment I was to have before your appearence. The day started so wonderfully. Poppy and I had a great lunch and off I went to see Dr. Mitchell. But you were not to be delivered the next week. God had other plans. Plans I couldn't imagine. Plans I wouldn't wish on my worse enemy.

So my sweet sisters came for your birth early and haven't left my side since.
The day of your arrival had all the makings of a great birth story. Lots of family, love, laughter, pictures and tears. But as your daddy says you lived your lifetime in an afternoon.

Oh Claudette, how I long for more than an afternoon of holding your sweet body, kissing your soft new skin. I want to know you at 2. At 10. At 20. I want to attend your wedding. I want to see your children. Instead I will see you in the sparkle of your brother Henry's eyes. I will see you in the spunk of Amelie. I will see you in their button noses and baby voices. I will see you in the calm spirit of your daddy.

Your legacy lives on my love. You have somehow healed so many by your mere presence, as quick as it was. And as much as I long for you every second, I will never forget your impact. As your Uncle John says, "you have a regal presence."

And soon we will hold you again, which makes me long for heaven even more. Until then rest quietly in grandma's arms and Christ' embrance.
We love you Claudette Elyse Elliott,
Mommy