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.

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

 

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