The Year With 11 Months

December 15, 2014

The month of October was spent in utter despair. As I’ve come out of the fog, I’ve realized that it’s like I lost a month of 2014. It came and went, and it feels like I just wasn’t there.

And in reality, I wasn’t. I physically wasn’t in the places I would normally be: work, dance, doctor appointments. I wasn’t doing the things I would normally do: taking care of my children, housework, outings with friends. I certainly wasn’t mentally there. It’s like a month of my life is just unaccounted for.

Heaven is for Real?

December 14, 2014

Religion and faith are something I struggle with even in the best of times. In the face of our recent loss, I’ve struggled even more. I would love to know that heaven is for real. That Olivia is there right now. That she isn’t lonely because she’s with her siblings and cousins who went before her through pregnancy loss, her great grandparents, and before that an uncle lost in pregnancy. That we’ll meet there someday. I think this would all somehow be a little bit easier if I held these beliefs, but it’s so hard for me to believe something based only on faith.

In a quest to find reassurance, I picked up a book that I was very unlikely to read just a few months ago. Heaven is for Real is a story of young boy who was very sick and after recovering began to tell his parents about his experiences in heaven. Specifically what drew me to the book was the fact that he told his parents he met a sister he never knew about. As it turns out, the parents had lost a baby in early pregnancy. I’m not sure I am any more likely to subscribe to these beliefs, but it is a wonderful possibility. I hope heaven is for real. 

As I finished the book, I read the epilogue and found out that many grieving parents have found comfort in the book.

Choose To Dance

December 14, 2014

"I may not be able to choose the music, but I can choose whether I want to dance."

Making my family has certainly not gone as expected or desired. I wouldn’t wish this past on anyone. But this quote says it perfectly. This isn't the song we would have chosen. It isn't the artist, or genre, or even the station, but we still choose to dance.

Teddy Bears

December 10, 2014

They say a grieving mother’s arms physically ache from the desire to hold her baby. So, when the chaplain came to speak with us in the hospital she brought a teddy bear. I held it through our conversation, but after that I decided it would be nice to give it to the girls as a keepsake from Olivia.

Except within days I was longing to have it back. I asked several times, but Lily had already staked her claim and had no intention of giving it back. Then one night a few weeks later, I was putting Lily and Ella to bed. As I rubbed their backs, my mind wandered to an image that would never be: rubbing three girls’, Lily’s Ella’s and Olivia’s, backs as I put my daughters to bed. Quiet tears followed.

Lily, noticed my tears and knowingly handed me the bear. The next morning, she enlisted the help of her grandpa and fixed a small hole in the bear’s armpit then gave it back to me. She has never again asked to have it back and I’ve slept with it in my arms since.

I was amazed and so proud by Lily’s maturity in this instance, so I thanked her in the days that followed. Ella overheard my gratitude and wanted to give me a bear as well. That bear now sits with Olivia.

Waiting

December 10, 2014

As a multiple loss mom, I kept waiting for the bottom to fall out with this pregnancy too. I waited through the first appointment when we checked to see where the baby had implanted. Then I waited through the appointment when we first checked for a heartbeat. I waited through two more first trimester appointments that showed healthy heart beats and still I kept waiting.

At about 13.5 weeks I stopped waiting. And then the bottom fell out.

On Trying Again

December 9, 2014

The last two times we’ve found out about losing our baby, I’ve had an immediate reaction that I was done having children. There was no way I could ever go through the pain again. In fact, with the ectopic, I even asked if they could go ahead and remove my good tube while they were at it. The doctor, in his wisdom, refused.

This time, again, when I got home from my 16 week appointment where I’d learned we’d lost Olivia, I promptly threw away my prenatal vitamins. I was done. How could we ever recover from this loss let alone the potential of more? When Dr. L sat on my hospital bed hours after delivering Olivia and suggested a surrogate if we still wanted a biological child, I adamantly agreed that I was DONE. Don’t worry, we’ll leave here and schedule a vasectomy to be done by the end of the year.

Then within a week, I started to feel desperate to be pregnant again--as soon as possible. If I were pregnant, surely this would all be better, right? I think my obsession with this idea is what pulled me from the dark depths of what must have been depression. It was a glimpse of hope. I read about tests and figured we’d find a cause, treat it, and be on our merry way.

Then came the fear. We had the testing done but found no answers about this loss or our rising number of losses in general. I felt frozen with fear again. There is no known reason, and therefore, no known treatment. There went my hope, weeks after finding it again.

I think at this point, the extremes have evened out. I’m not too scared or too desperate. We can try again even without answers. I will hope for the best and hopefully be prepared for the worst. I know that I’ve overcome a great loss (well, 5) and lived to tell about it. I can try again.

Room 3214

December 9, 2014

When you go to deliver a baby who is no longer living, some things are the same. You still go to Labor and Delivery. You still have L&D nurses. There is still a channel on the TV all about taking care of your newborn. There is still a warming bassinet in the corner.

When you go to deliver a baby who is no longer living, some things are different, too. We didn’t have to stand in the lobby to register. Instead, we were quickly ushered the long way around to our room so we could avoid the other laboring moms. We were taken to the room at the very back, again to keep us as far away from the happy rooms as possible. A picture of a dove was placed on the door, alerting any staff member who came in to our situation.

While waiting the hours for my induced labor to start, I pondered the history of the room we were in. How many babies had been born sleeping in that room? Was it always that room? Did they avoid using that room for live births due to the bad vibe? How much sadness, how many broken dreams, had been born to tears in that room?

Compassion

December 9, 2014

At this point, most days are mostly ok. But today was a hard day. It began with a staff meeting, which I dreaded last month because I felt so conspicuous having just returned to work. This time, I was more worried about the visual of a very pregnant co-worker, but I had a plan. I sat off to the far side and behind a bookshelf so I would be able to avoid the visual. As it turned out, I ended up right in the midst of the hubbub caused by a new mom returning from maternity leave and two gift bags plastered with BABY on them to be presented to new parents. I leaned over to my co-worker and, panicked, told her I was not in a good seat after all.  

But the meeting was about to start and I was stuck. Or so I thought. The next thing I knew, my assistant principal came and said, “Let’s talk.” She had noticed the distressing situation and wanted to give me a chance to get out.  Thank goodness. As soon as we left the room, the tears came. There are so many times that my emotions are JUST barely kept in check. And then something happens, and BOOM! I can’t keep it in any longer.

I got myself together, listened to the rest of the meeting from the hallway, and then went to my classroom to destress a bit by texting with another mom who “gets it.” We met at our support group and she was available to “talk” right when I needed her.

I’m thankful for a compassionate boss who saw the situation and got me out before it escalated. I’m thankful that she checked on me several more times today and offered to give me a break if I needed it. And I’m thankful, too, for the support system I am building within the community of baby loss. I just wish I weren’t in the position of needing these things.

Cut the Ties?

December 8, 2014

How do I know if it’s time to cut the ties with my current OBGYN and see someone new?  There have certainly been some upsetting events there. I’ve learned of four lost babies in the rooms of her office.  As a result, I feel physically ill when I’m in that building.  I am still shocked and upset by the phone call from her nurse. And while I don’t think I blame Dr. L for all that’s happened, I do feel a bit of doubt in her care.  Should she have recognized the ectopic before I went off to Florida and had my tube rupture? Could we have avoided some of the trauma during Olivia’s delivery if we’d waited just a bit longer to deliver her? And maybe that doubt is the answer.  

But then again, Dr. L knows my history. She has delivered all three of my girls: Lily, Ella, and Olivia. She allows me frequent appointments in the early part of pregnancy to try to calm my nerves.  But there’s that doubt. Are we doing all that can be done? Would I feel less stress if I removed myself from that environment?

Under the barrage of my questioning at the my follow-up appointment, she did tell me that if I want to go somewhere else now that I shouldn’t worry about hurting her feelings. I’m definitely on the fence on this one.

So, do you have an OB that you love who is near Dublin? Bonus points if you know they have expertise with loss!

The Giraffe

December 6, 2014

My mom and I have a tradition of going to a holiday craft bazaar on the first Saturday of December. In past years we chose a diaper bag and special blankets for Lily and Ella when I was pregnant or they were babies. Today we tried a new event on a whim and I went in without a second thought.  The first stand was selling adorable crocheted stuffed dolls. I nonchalantly admired them and then I saw it.  It was an adorable pink crocheted giraffe. I had to walk away. I knew I would have bought that giraffe for Olivia if she were still alive. 

The Elephant

December 6, 2014 

At times, Olivia seems to be an elephant in the room. We visited Troy's family for Thanksgiving, which meant I saw and spoke to people for the first time since losing Olivia. Some close family members never once mentioned my baby over the three days. I have to admit, it hurt my feelings as I waited for the conversation that never came. Sure, I cry sometimes or a tear may come to my eye when someone brings up my baby, but ignoring her existence is certainly not the answer.  

It seems some are just waiting for me to give the OK to talk about Olivia. I sent my very supportive and compassionate co-workers an email of gratitude a few weeks ago once I was composed enough to encourage conversation. Several people approached me shortly after, including two mothers who I learned had suffered their own losses in the past. I think they were waiting for me to show them it was ok to talk.

This quote by Elizabeth Edwards seems to summarize it well. I will never forget about Olivia, so please don't worry that bringing her up to me will remind me of her and make me sad.  

Two Months

December 5, 2014

Your two month angelversary is today.  The month has been busy. I returned to work. Seeked the counsel of a Maternal Fetal Specialist, celebrated a major holiday (Thanksgiving) without you and planned and held your memorial ceremony.

I seem to have really come out from the fog in the last few weeks.  The parts of my days that are sad are fewer and fewer.  I can joke and don’t feel guilty laughing. Our household routines seem to finally be returning to normal.  I’m busy now that I’m back to work and have resumed my duties as dance mom.  I’m sure that normalcy and preoccupation helps.  

But mostly I think I’m doing so much better because with your loss, I really faced the grief head on.  In the five weeks I was away from work, I made grieving you my job.  I surrounded myself with your memory. I looked at your pictures and belongings, talked about you with many people who made themselves available to listen: my friends, co-workers, Troy’s coworkers, family.  I have even been seeing a grief counselor and attending a monthly support group for pregnancy loss. I wrote about you, created art about you, and really just immersed myself in the process of grief.  There was no hiding.  It was painful but I seeked it out and through that diligence and persistence, I feel as though I’ve come out stronger on the other side.  

It felt like I was beaten in those first two weeks, but now I see just how resilient I can be.  I’m optimistic for the future once again, and for that I am grateful.

Going Public

December 3, 2014

I've read my writing to several friends and family and they suggested that someday I might share these experiences with a larger audience. Last night I took the first step and exchanged writing with two loss moms from my support group. Reading their writing showed me how powerful and healing it is to see that there are others who get it. It was amazing to see that we'd often written about the same topics and even said nearly the same words.

 

So today I started a blog.

Memorial Around the Tree

December 3, 2014

On Sunday, November 23, we had your ceremony.  That morning, 19 of us gathered to remember you.  People traveled from as far away as North Carolina to be able to honor you. I began by setting out all of your belongings.  I had shared them with some of the people before, but for many this was the only time I would take the opportunity to share your private things with them.  We all signed a page in my book, and we all wrote messages to you.  In the notes, people gave you nicknames they would have called you: Olive Branch, Olive.  They talked about the things they would have done with you as you grew up: horseback riding with grandpa. They said that they can’t wait to meet you someday.  

Then we went outside and circled around your tree. Somehow this late November day was warm enough that we didn’t even need a jacket!  This is especially incredible since just the day before, we woke up to a glaze of ice on everything and the snow that had been on the ground nearly a week finally melted. We listened to music I’d chosen: You’ll be in my Heart, Gone too Soon, and Over the Rainbow. I read your eulogy through sobs.  Then we took turns reading and speaking. I read Your Time of Year, a piece I wrote a few weeks earlier.  Daddy read a poem about how all you ever felt in your lifetime was love. Uncle Adam spoke about the hope of seeing you again someday. Grandma Linda shared a poem her friend wrote just for you and our other lost babies. Nana spoke of the kindness our family has received from loved ones, friends, and even strangers. Then we all sang your lullaby.  I passed around your urn and we each had a chance to say our goodbye. Some kissed you. Others blessed you, and others just had a chance to hold you in your tiny urn.  

We ended by each releasing a purple balloon. Many of us watched them until they were out of sight, and Nana and I cried in each others’ arms when they were gone. 

(The balloons traveling off into the distance)
Lily gave everyone a purple flower she made with tissue paper and pipe cleaners. She attached a tag with your name and birthday. Ours look beautiful in a vase on the table.

Leading up to the ceremony, Daddy tried to keep my expectations realistic. He knows my tendency to imagine grand things only to be let down by reality. But it was everything I imagined and more. It really was a wonderful ceremony and several people, including Daddy, remarked after that it was so beautiful and much more than they expected.

My message to you that day:  

Trigger

December 2, 2014

Sometimes the strangest things catch me off guard. The most recent: I was sitting on my brother in law's couch on Thanksgiving and my eyes rested on the glider in the corner. Memories of the last time I'd sat in that chair came flooding back. It was Labor Day weekend. I was reading to my niece who was sitting on my lap. I was 12 weeks pregnant and thought how soon enough I wouldn't have space for her or my own children on my lap. The memory brought silent tears to my eyes while the rest of the family happily prepared to play Settlers of Catan.  It was then I realized that even the game was a reminder: We were playing that same game while on vacation in Florida in July when Troy told his parents I was pregnant.

Trees

November 17th, 2014

When you were born, the leaves were still green on the trees. During my weeks of intense mourning, they turned their colors and fell. Now, just six weeks later, they are sagging in heavy, wet snow. The trees are intent on marching on.

(Olivia's tree in the first snow of the season, just a week after the tree was planted.)

I realized that the season changed without me about two weeks after you died.  I didn’t want to miss it entirely, so I asked Nana to go out to the woods during her lunch break so I could see and possibly appreciate the colors of autumn before they passed without me.  We did just that. I took pictures of several pretty trees but even by then many had lost their leaves.  

Over the next few weeks, I continued to look for trees that still carried their colors.  I would snap some pictures in a parking lot or while walking the neighborhood for Trick or Treat.  I wanted to make sure to live this season and see it for its beauty even though I was grieving.  It felt like I had to really live this time of year so that it didn’t just slip away.

Trees have become important in my journey of remembering you.  We have planted a Crimson King Maple tree in our front yard to remember you.  Your ceremony will be held around your tree this Sunday.

Lily and I created collage trees side by side a few weekends ago. It was Lily’s idea to make a fall tree with pictures cut from magazines. I saw this as an opportunity to experiment with the idea that you were supposed to be born in Spring but instead came in the Fall.  I made a collage tree that was half green leaved with blossoms and half red, yellow and orange leaved. 

 This led to another tree created out of legos. This tree also carries two seasons of leaves.

My next project will also involve trees.  I am going to create a tree drawn with words. Half of the tree will have the words from Light and will be written on the Spring side with blossoms of color. The Fall half of the tree will be made of the words from Dark. On this side, I will use bare branches.

(Here it is finished now.)

Over the year, I plan to take pictures of your tree in the different seasons.  I will frame a collage of the tree in its first year: fall, winter, spring, summer. This will be in place of the first year photos I would have taken of you.

Insanity

November 14, 2014

We met with the MFM (maternal fetal medicine) doctor on Wednesday. He was kind enough and spoke honestly and bluntly. He didn’t say what I wanted to hear, but at least I have his candid opinion. All my blood work came back fine. No diabetes, no thyroid problems, and no clotting disorder. The doctors don’t seem to understand that this disappoints me. Surely I can’t be the only woman who wants so badly to find a reason for my misery that I actually hope there is something wrong with me? If we find a problem with me, we can treat it and have renewed hope about a successful pregnancy in the future. I am told that I should be glad I’m healthy. But it’s hard to be glad about that when your heart is broken.

The doctor says that the genetic testing on Troy and me is costly and very unlikely to be a productive test for us since Olivia’s chromosomes were fine. Alloimmune problems seem like a possibility to me, but medical evidence is not conclusive on whether this is a cause of pregnancy loss and how to treat it if it is. The doctor suggested an ultrasound with saline inserted in my uterus to check for structural problems. He doesn’t think it’s likely but said it’s easy enough and we should go ahead and rule it out. I guess that may be in our future for December.  

The doctor pointed out that the ectopic pregnancy, while awful and devastating, does not contribute to my miscarriage count. I’ve also read conflicting opinions on whether chemical pregnancies count. I guess I could try to find comfort in having fewer “countable” losses. He also believes that the fact that we have two living children can improve our chances of once again bringing home a baby. I keep wondering, “But what if something in me has changed since the births of Lily and Ella to make my body less hospitable to a growing baby?” I try to "reassure" myself that I had losses surrounding their births too, so hopefully it is unlikely that things have really changed.

There are some doctors who apparently treat with baby aspirin and/or prednisone when no cause can be found, but not the ones I have spoken with. The MFM doctor still believes that our chances of a successful pregnancy in the future are around 75%. But I’m just not sure I’ll ever be able to play these odds again. Each time I am so worried in the beginning but I also have dumb hope that all will turn out ok. I don’t know that that hope will ever return though. I’m reminded of a quote by Einstein: “Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” How can I keep getting pregnant and doing the same (no)thing but still expect a different result?

Winter

November 14, 2014

I’m just dreading winter. I was supposed to have somethingone to look forward to to make dealing with the winter all worth while this year. What does unbearable cold and snow matter when you have a baby coming right on the other side? Instead, the cold temperatures have already come and Thanksgiving and Christmas are hot on its heels and I can barely accept it. I just wish my world hadn’t all changed on October 2nd. I wish I still had my baby to look forward to. I wish I were still excited and happy and actually looking forward to the winter since it would mean I was that much closer to meeting Olivia. I just don’t know how I am supposed to keep recovering from the disappointment each time I get my hopes up about a baby. Especially this time when it actually looked like it was going to all work out. Statistics say that the chances of losing Olivia at the point that we did was 1.6%. What the hell?!? Why do I keep hitting all the absolutely unlikely and absolutely awful odds?  

Can't Shake that Feeling

November 13, 2014

There’s a feeling I’ve had that’s hard to pinpoint. Is it humiliation? Embarrassment?  What I finally realized is that I feel watched. I feel exposed. I feel conspicuous.

Body

November 10, 2014

My body is so anxious to do everything it’s supposed to: pregnancy ended at 17 weeks? Sure, my body will produce milk! Not pregnant anymore? Well of course my body should return to a cycle just 4.5 weeks post-delivery (and much to my doctor's surprise).  How is it even possible to get a period 4 weeks after producing milk?

So if my body’s so hell-bent on doing everything it should, why won’t it protect and carry my babies?

Relapse

November 10, 2014

When I went home for the weekend after my first two days at work, all my strong and devastating emotions from weeks earlier came flooding back. Frequent crying and sometimes long, inconsolable sobbing ensued.

Where did this come from?  I have a few theories. One: I had prepared so diligently for those first few days of school that I wasn’t prepared for what came after. Two: I finished my last current project about/for Olivia Friday night when I planned her memorial. That leads me to three: My cycle returned on my first day back at school, just a month and a day after Olivia’s birth.  And four: Everything’s wrapping up and returning to normal but I’m not normal and I don’t feel back to the way it used to be. But time keeps marching steadily ahead removing me further and further from the time of joyfully anticipating the arrival of my daughter.

First Joy

November 12, 2014

Tonight was parent observation at dance. I purposely went to Ella’s class, while Troy went to Lily’s. It had always been the opposite parent/child combo in the past, so I chose to go where no one had known I was pregnant.

The purpose of the night is to give information about the spring show, and I’d already heard it a few times by this point in the week, but a short while was left at the end for the kids to dance for us. Watching Ella dance that night, I smiled and laughed for real. I felt my first true joy since October 2nd.

Full Disclosure: This is a video from December, but you get the picture.

First Days Back at Work

November 10, 2014

I went back to work last week on Thursday for a half day. It went pretty well, considering. I walked in with Jen, sat in her room until students arrived to avoid talking to people, and then put on a show in front of students. They had been well-coached. Most gave a cheerful “Hello,” or “Glad you’re back,” or “I missed you.” A few had made cards.

While there I noticed first a pile of ungraded work here, then a pile there. Then one after another.  I started to feel overwhelmed with the mountain of grading I saw. I mentioned it to Jenny before leaving at lunch time, and before the end of the day it was taken care of. The sub would grade the work  from my absence. People swept through my classroom to remove the stress-inducing piles and my team would take my study center the next day so I could be done with teaching responsibilities a little earlier than usual so I could prepare for the week ahead.

I made it through these days pretty easily. I avoided most public areas: the teachers lounge, lunch, the office, and thus was able to avoid most adult interactions. Those I did have sounded much like what my students had been told to say.

Then I went home for the weekend and the bottom fell out.

Mother's Intuition?

November 10, 2014

On my birthday, while the rest of the family was wrapping my presents, I sat on the couch and laid out all of Olivia's new clothes I’d bought over the last few weeks. I surprisingly found myself silently crying with an outfit laying on my stomach. At the time I wondered if my reaction was tears of happiness but that didn’t seem to be it. Maybe it was relief to finally have a pregnancy make it this far again. Or maybe, I thought, it was just hormones. But maybe they were early tears of sadness. Did I somehow know? Or wonder? Or worry that something was awry?

I’d been apprehensive to tell people about Olivia.  I’d struggled to buy maternity clothes. It took several failed attempts of going shopping before I actually gave in and bought some. In fact, the first few things I bought as I entered the second trimester were non-maternity dresses so that I would still be able to wear them if something went wrong.  

I even had a thought four or five weeks before we lost Olivia that this time was so late that if something went wrong it would be completely different than the other times.

Mother’s intuition or a scarred and scared mommy?

Sisters

November 10, 2014

Your sisters love you!  Without hesitation, Ella says that she has two sisters and that I have three daughters. It made me happy to know how certain she is. She hugs and kisses my necklace because she knows you’re there. She has even talked to you and says you talked back. Today when they planted your tree, she ran outside to hug it. When she practices singing Twinkle Twinkle for your memorial, she sings to my necklace or to you in the sky.

Lily remembers you too!  She wore a necklace the other day that said Big Sis. She told Ella that it was partly hers now too because she’s a big sister now. This comment really warmed my heart. Later that night, Lily wrote my three girls’ names across the top of a paper. She drew the three girls together and put them inside a rainbow.

It feels good to know they love you and know simply that you are their sister.

Planning Olivia's Memorial

November 6, 2014

Start inside to sign guest page in my book and view Olivia's belongings set up on the dining room table (play You'll Be in My Heart)

Write notes to Olivia

Go outside and circle Olivia's tree

Play Gone too Soon by Daughtry

Light Olivia's candle

Jen: Today we gather to remember and honor Olivia Claire Dramble: Our daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece, and cousin.  Although her life was short, it was a mighty life.  She proved her strength time and time again as we watched her grow on the ultrasounds, listened to her heartbeat on the doppler, and even began to feel her move.  

Olivia brought us excitement, hope, and joy. Ella hugged her and kissed her through my belly daily. Lily and I spent an afternoon carefully matching up outfits at a store. We all shared in the conversation of naming her. We all imagined her completing our family.

Ella sing Twinkle Twinkle

Lily read I'll Love You Forever excerpt

Troy read:

Too Soon - Mary Yarnall

This was a life that had hardly begun

No time to find your place in the Sun
No time to do all you could have done
But we loved you enough for a lifetime

No time to enjoy the world and its wealth
No time to take life down off the shelf

No time to sing the songs of yourself

Though you had enough love for a lifetime

Those who live long endure sadness and tears


But you'll never suffer the sorrowing years

No betrayal, no anger, no hatred, no fears

Just love - Only love - In your lifetime.

Jen read Your Time of Year

Uncle Adam speak about hope

Allow anyone else opportunity to speak

All sing lullaby together

Jen: put Olivia’s urn into its box

Release purple balloons while playing Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Jen, Troy, Ella, Lily blow out Olivia’s candle

The cover of the program:

My Muse

November 5, 2014

I’ve taken to thinking of you as my muse. I’ve always been a creative person, but over the years, I had forgotten to express that creativity very often. In this month since you’ve been gone, my creativity has been re-awoken. I have written pages and pages and pages. The topics just keep coming to me, the words just keep flowing. I have cross-stitched the violet bookmark, I decoupaged a box to hold more of your belongings. I even built a lego model of Falling Water! That was my first (but not my last!) lego project and I did it at 33! Guess who has lego sets on her Christmas list this year?

She Understands

November 5, 2014

When I leave my first day of work tomorrow, I am coming home to get together with another mommy who lost her baby, Zachary. He was just about your age I think. We don’t know each other well but at the same time, we know each other better than most people know us. We have both experienced the same unthinkable loss. It was quite the coincidence that we are meeting up tomorrow, on what I expect to be a very challenging day. Last week, she asked if I was available this Thursday afternoon because she was taking half a day off. I knew I was going back to work that day, but I hadn’t been able to decide which part of the day to tackle. Her suggestion immediately made my decision. Was that you, Olivia, putting her in my path to ease my pain that day? Thank you.

Seeking Support

November 5, 2014

Last night Daddy and I went to a support group for parents who have lost their babies. Again, it feels almost surreal that we belong in that group. But we do. We listened as other parents talked about their babies. Each one said something that rang true for me even though the specific details of each loss were unique. Then it was my turn to talk about you. I found a strength to talk without tears for much of the time. Was that you there helping me along? I wish I had said more, but I know I will be able to tell your story again and again. It may come out differently each time. And that’s ok.  

Medical Bills

November 5, 2014

The first one came in today. I’m glad it was a big one and took us right to our deductible. Now the rest can just come in and hopefully I won’t have to even give them a second thought. They will just be covered...I hope. It is so unfair that mothers who don’t get to take home their babies still have to take home all the bills.  

Star

November 5, 2014

Daddy decided to put up the big screen to watch an OSU night game two weekends ago. It was sort of silly since there were only four of us to watch it. And it was a bit on the cold side. But none-the-less we sat out there.  After half time, Mommy, Nana, and Grandpa Larry were watching the game and talking a bit. We should have been only able to see the bright and giant screen in front of us, but instead, off to the right of the screen, I saw a shooting star. I wasn’t completely convinced that was what I’d actually seen, but Grandpa Larry said he saw it too! That was so unexpected. We’ve sat outside purposely trying to see shooting stars during a meteor shower only to see none. Here we were in a very unlikely situation and two of the three of us saw it!  

I have to think it was a signal from you, Olivia.  A way to say hello.  You see, I had already planned to have Ella sing Twinkle Twinkle during your memorial ceremony.  Hello, baby, we saw you!