Showing posts with label miscarriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miscarriage. Show all posts

Saturday, October 10, 2015

One Year

October 5th marked the one year anniversary of Olivia's still delivery. That evening, our family did a few things to honor her memory. Lily and Ella got to decorate cupcakes at the grocery store, which means they adorned cupcakes with up to 4 trinkets each. They chose things like It's a Girl and Happy Birthday along with items they like best such as gumballs and Reese cups. We enjoyed the cupcakes before dinner then headed out to Olivia's tree.



Outside, Lily read Sleep Baby Safe and Snug, which is the book Troy and I read to Olivia while we held her in the hospital, and Ella sang a rousing rendition of happy birthday.

The next night, we joined many other families who have lost babies in pregnancy or infancy in a garden ceremony. It just so happens that October is pregnancy and infant loss month, so this yearly event coincides almost exactly with Olivia's anniversary. We added 5 tags for our 5 losses to a memory tree. We wrote messages to Olivia. (Ella's: Come to me so I can hold you.) Every family got to speak the name of their baby or babies for all to hear. Lily asked if she could be the one to speak Olivia's name and did a great job in front of the large group. The event culminated with everyone planting a tulip bulb for each of their lost babies. We planted 5. Four bulbs circled around the 5th, which we planted with our messages to Olivia.

These events were all done in joyful memory of our daughter and sister who we grew to love in such a short time last year.

Friday, October 2, 2015

Caught off Guard

It's been months since I've cried about Olivia. That's not to say I don't think about her. With Ella still bringing her up weekly, I can rest assured that her memory is safely being kept. But now it's October. It was at my 16 week appointment on October 2nd that we received the news that Olivia had died.

The fact that October and this anniversary was approaching has been on my mind, but I was completely caught off guard by my emotions at my non stress test for Will yesterday. I showed up doing just fine. Then the receptionist informed me they were doing flu shots that day. Immediately, I was transported back to October 2nd of last year. That fateful appointment had begun with a flu shot to protect me during a pregnancy that had unbeknownst to me already ended.

I somewhat hesitantly agreed to the shot yesterday after confirming that it could help protect Will since he'll be too young to be immunized himself this year. I just had specific directions for the nurse. I told her I would need to already be hooked up to the heart beat monitor so I could listen to Will's heart beating while she gave me the shot.  I also said that she should wait to take my blood pressure because it was surely high as that point. We followed my protocol to a tee, but as soon as the nurse went to leave me alone to continue my NST, I felt the tears coming. Apparently, that shot was enough of a trigger to send me over the edge when combined with the calendar change and being at the doctor's office.

The nurse offered to sit and talk with me, and she ended up staying the whole half hour of the test. I got to talk about Olivia like I haven't done in months. I quickly went from crying to just remembering and sharing. I'm thankful that the nurse dropped everything else that I'm sure was calling for her and just kept me company and asked about my baby girl.

Monday, February 9, 2015

Children’s Literature

December 29, 2014
    
There was a day a month and a half or so ago that a list of quotes from children’s literature kept popping up in my Facebook feed. I’m a language arts teacher and love children’s literature, so I was immediately drawn to it.  I was surprised how many of the quotes on the list spoke to me. I found meaning relating to the loss of Olivia in quite a few from the list and then actively searched out more from Winnie the Pooh when I realized just how many of those seemed to describe my feelings.

“A person’s a person no matter how small.” ~Dr. Seuss, Horton Hears a Who

“Numbing the pain for awhile will only make it worse when you feel it.” ~J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

“It’s no use to go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.” ~ Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

“Once you are real you can’t become unreal again. It lasts for always.” ~Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

“Promise me you’ll remember, you are BRAVER than you believe, STRONGER than you seem, SMARTER than you think.”

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”

“If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart. I’ll stay there forever.”

~A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

Sunday, February 8, 2015

A Slap in the Face

December 24, 2014

Why is it OK to force a mourning mother to sit in the waiting room of the doctor’s office with pregnant mothers while she waits for her follow-up appointment after a loss?

Why is it OK to just change an already-scheduled prenatal appointment into a follow-up to a loss? That appointment already had a positive association thankyouverymuch, and so it hurts even more to drag myself to the place that makes me sit with the pregnant people!

Since I have experience with both of these from previous losses, I now know how to stand up for what I need emotionally. This time I asked to be seen at a time least likely to expose me to bulging bellies. My doctor agreed to bring me in as they were closing, although I still was forced to see two pregnant women while sitting in the waiting room. I also requested to change the appointment by one day just to avoid the extra pain of knowing what the appointment should have/would have been (my 20 week appointment that we had scheduled at 12 weeks to make sure to get a good time.)  

But I guess I feel I shouldn’t have had to learn from experience to stand up for myself. These seem like common sense. Wouldn’t a different entrance or at the very least being taken directly to the privacy of the exam room be a little more thoughtful and considerate of the situation?

Monday, January 26, 2015

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.

Friday, January 2, 2015

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.  

Sunday, December 28, 2014

Isn't It Ironic?

November 2, 2014

I. Hate. Needles. I've hated them since I was little. So it just figures that having babies for me means a whole lot more needles than for a normal woman. Due to previous losses, each new pregnancy begins with serial hcg and progesterone draws. Preeclampsia required many more blood draws than normal. The ectopic required multiple hcg draws as well as three IVs over 2 days. And if I'm being completely honest, the IV is the worst kind of needle. In fact, with the loss Olivia, the first panic attack I had was when I got the IV.


So isn't it ironic that I am desperate to be diagnosed with a blood clotting disorder so I will have some possible reason for all of our losses? This testing included drawing 20 vials blood, and I happily gave it for the hope of discovering the problem and having a treatment to try. I mean how can I possibly be pregnant again without feeling we are doing something different that time? How can I believe the outcome will be different if we just do the same things? So now I sit here desperately hoping one of these tests is positive so I can have the treatment of giving myself a daily blood thinner injection in my stomach. Now that's ironic!

Friday, December 26, 2014

Tainted

November 2, 2014

So many things are tainted by negative associations now. The obvious: pregnancy, the doctor's office, the months of all our losses.


But there's much more. The people I know who are due right around when I was: Troy's coworker had the same due date as the ectopic pregnancy, two cousins (one with the exact due date again) with Olivia's pregnancy. So now I will forever more have visual reminders of what should have been at family gatherings. I'm going to see these kids grow up and know Olivia should have been right there with them.Then there are the many people on Facebook I have un-followed because they are pregnant and delivering babies.


Aside from people are the many places that remind me of Olivia: Red White and Boom, Florida, Moe’s, Auntie Ann’s, Sea World. I doubt I will ever visit these places again without thinking of Olivia.


And there are foods: I craved sour--limeade, pickles


And time of year: pregnant all summer, lost in the fall, due in spring.

Shows that I used to watch are off limits due to their pregnant characters: Jill Duggar (due right around when I was) and Parenthood.  I think the only other show I watch is Modern Family.  

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Odds

October 31, 2014


50% of recurrent loss no reason found
50% of late miscarriage no reason found
25 to 33% of recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage
2% of recognized pregnancies are ectopic
1.5% chance of miscarriage at 16 weeks gestation

I should probably play the lottery.

Friday, December 12, 2014

A History of Loss

October 27, 2014

I have been really struggling with this a lot.  Why is it our reality to suffer so. much. loss?  How is this our life? When we met as 18 year-olds on our first day of college, we certainly never would have guessed we’d have seven pregnancies over the course of eight years. And that only two of them would end happily.

The first pregnancy resulted in a very early loss and its effect was far-reaching. Never again would we be able to see two lines on a test and assume that we would walk away with a living baby in nine months.  Pregnancy would never be a blissful, carefree time of nothing but joy and excitement. But at least the loss was very early. We would be able to quickly pass that milestone with future pregnancies.

But the losses keep happening later and later.  The second one was at 7 weeks. The third not detected until the 8 week appointment that I had somehow patiently waited for. That loss stole another piece of my sanity.  Now I couldn’t assume that no bleeding equaled a healthy baby. That was the first missed miscarriage. My body took five weeks to finally realize the baby was not living and begin to miscarry.   

Loss four was a whole new kind of terrible.  I found out I was unexpectedly expecting.  I thought that was great. I didn’t have to stress about trying to get pregnant. Or about making the decision to risk another loss. The decision was made for us. Certainly this pregnancy was meant to be.  Or not.  Just a week (or was it less) after seeing the positive test, I started spotting.  HCG levels were not increasing as desired and it was assumed I was having another miscarriage.  But it was far worse than that!  Our family left on a long-planned vacation in Florida while I was just about six weeks pregnant. I was pretty much expecting to miscarry on this trip but also a tiny bit hopeful that all would turn out. After just a few days away, though, I was in terrible pain.  The first hospital ran tests and performed an ultrasound.  The HCG was still climbing, although slowly. And they coudn’t find the baby in my uterus, or anywhere for that matter. They sent me away and told me to schedule a follow-up appointment with the on-call doctor for two days later. Well, by the time of that appointment, I was awaiting surgery in a second hospital. They had confirmed my worst fear: I had an ectopic pregnancy and by this time my tube had ruptured.  I had my right tube removed at a hospital while on vacation.

So that left me with a whole new set of worries.  Now, I would have to wonder if I would GET pregnant with just one tube.  And if I did get pregnant, I would have to worry WHERE the baby implanted.  And if the baby implanted in the right spot, I would have to worry about whether I would STAY pregnant.

With Olivia, I once again had thoughts of “this is meant to be.” We had easily conceived her.  An early ultrasound showed she was in the right place, and we had made it past the first trimester.  Then the shit hit the fan--again.  This time was far worse emotionally than ever before. This wasn’t just a baby we were losing, she was our daughter.  Now, I’m left with a feeling that I will never feel “safe” at any point during a future pregnancy.  I feel like we’ve been robbed of almost all hope.

Why do these losses keep happening? Why do they happen later and later? Why has my body stopped recognizing the loss right away? Why us???? Why are we the couple who loses our babies far more than we don’t?

Sunday, December 7, 2014

Different

October 24, 2014


The loss of Olivia is just different from the other losses. For one, we knew about her for more than twice as long. We knew she was a girl. Our daughters knew about Olivia and were anticipating her arrival with us.  My body had already grown to accommodate her.


It was different also because she is the only baby we lost after seeing a heartbeat.  And we saw or heard it four times from seven to 12 weeks. She’s the only baby we lost after we were “in the clear” of the second trimester.  


But what really makes this different is we knew her as our daughter.  And the girls knew her as their sister.  We had chosen her name. We had talked about her. We had looked ahead and imagined our life with her.  Of course we’d imagined our life with each of our other losses but this time our imaginations had more detail, more reality to pull from.

And perhaps the most bittersweet: we had more time to fall in love with her.

Time

October 24, 2014  11 am

It’s crazy how time works. Every day is the same number of hours, every week the same number of days. Why, then, does time seem to move differently now than it did when I was pregnant?


It has been three weeks since we learned of Olivia’s death. The time has just happened, seemingly in a blink of the eye. Yet, the first three weeks of knowing I was pregnant were the longest, slowest days and weeks. I was waiting until I could see her on the ultrasound with her heart beating and it seemed to take forever to get to that point. The three weeks between appointments at 9 and 12 weeks were agonizingly long too. So how did these three weeks come and go so quickly?  


We knew about Olivia for almost 13 weeks before she died. At this point, then, we have known she died for about one fourth of the time that we were anticipating her arrival. And by the end of next week, it will become that we were happily expecting her for three months and we’ve been sorrowfully missing her for one month. That swings the ratio to one third. We will already be without her for one third of the time that we were with her. How did that happen?

It’s crazy how time works.  

Friday, December 5, 2014

Should

October 23, 2014

There are so many should have beens:  
-I should have been 19 weeks pregnant today.
-October should have been a great month of reassurance. I looked forward to this month because I should have had three appointments to show me you were alive and well. Instead, the first one shot that all to hell.
-I should have had the Big Ultrasound last week.  
-I should be almost half way done with your pregnancy.
-I should have an ever growing belly instead of an empty one.
-I should feel you kicking me.
-I should be uncomfortable: heartburn, hot, ever-expanding belly.
-I should be wearing maternity clothes.
-I should be buying more cute things for you to wear.
-Ella should be still hugging my belly and dreaming about the day she can see and hold you.
-We should be planning your nursery.
           -We should be happy and excited.

Clueless

October 21, 2014

Someone commented that they were sure I was enjoying my time with my girls while I was home from work for the month of October. And with that I knew they had no idea.

For the first two weeks I was in a daze.  Time just passed without me knowing it.  I could hardly take care of my basic needs let alone take care of my kids. Barely sleeping, bathing once a week when I could no longer avoid it, eating maybe once a day. I remember trying to feed Ella one meal about a week into this experience. It felt like so much work. It took so much energy and my presence.  How could I go through these motions when my mind and heart were with someone else? Without Nana and Grandma, the girls wouldn’t have been bathed, fed, put to bed, or done homework.

So, no, I haven’t enjoyed my time with my girls while not at work. I haven’t enjoyed my time period while I’ve been off work. MY BABY DIED!!! That is not enjoyable no matter how you spin it.

Thursday, December 4, 2014

Quotes from Dr. L

“You're not having a miscarriage.You're not having an ectopic.You're having a baby.”  9/4/14 12.5 weeks

“Don't do this to your momma.” 10/2/14 16.5 weeks

“If you still want to have a biological child you may want to consider a surrogate.” 10/5/14

5

October 21, 2014 (10 am)

July 5th positive pregnancy test
October 5th Olivia's birthday
5 days between my birthday and learning you were gone

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

A Life Story

October 9, 2014 (3:30 am)
My Dearest Olivia,


It was July 5th when we first learned you were on the way.  Your daddy and I were excited and nervous when we saw the dark pink lines two days before I even expected my period.  You must have been a strong baby, I thought, as I admired the dark lines on the pregnancy test.  I couldn’t contain my excitement and shared it with Nana as soon as I saw her that day.  She was shocked to see that Daddy and I were pregnant again because, you see, we had suffered many losses in the past and had been too afraid to risk loss again.  But our hearts did not feel complete without a third child and we decided once again that the opportunity of completing our family was worth the risk of more heartache.


Since I tested on a Saturday, I impatiently waited two days until the doctor’s office was opened on Monday.  I went in for HCG draws two days apart in order to see how you were doing in there. Much to our happiness we learned that the level for this pregnancy hormone was outstanding! This was another sign of your strength.


The next few weeks would be a tough wait for us until we could see you on an ultrasound safe and sound with a heartbeat.  We were headed to Florida for two weeks, which would really help the time pass while we waited.  Before we left, though, Mommy wanted to check to make sure you were where you belonged.  Just the summer before, a baby had implanted in a fallopian tube.  But not you! You were right where you needed to be.


Toward the end of the trip, morning sickness kicked in.  I felt nauseous throughout the day and especially when I got too hungry or was in the heat.  Remember, we were in Florida, so there was plenty of heat!  I didn’t mind, though.  This was another positive sign to me that you were in there doing exactly what you were supposed to do--grow!


I ate Saltines all the way home to help my queasy stomach.  Then the day I had been waiting for came, and we went to see you on the ultrasound. There you were with your little heart pumping away!  What relief!


The next few weeks allowed us weekly glimpses of your growing little body and always your precious beating heart.  We did have a little scare at 9 weeks when I spotted for a few days, but we cried tears of joy when we saw your heart still beating away.  And you’d grown to look like a gummy bear!


It was after this ultrasound that Daddy couldn’t wait any more to share the news about you with your sisters.  Lily and Ella were immediately and fully excited about you!  We sat together and thought up possible names for you that night.   The girls suggested names like Clara, Beast, Belle, and our personal favorite: FROYO YOLO.  This became our code name for you, as you were our family’s little secret.


Over the next few weeks we started to talk more and more about you.  Everyone we told was so excited.  They knew how much you were wanted and how hard Mommy and Daddy had tried for a third baby.  We were nearing the end of the first trimester and were feeling good.


Our next appointment was at 12.5 weeks. It had been three long weeks between appointments and Mommy was nervous to make sure you were ok.  Much to Mommy’s and Daddy’s delight, we heard your heartbeat on the doppler for the first time that day.  Afterward we decided to try out a relatively new blood test that would tell us whether you were a boy or girl.  


With the passing of this appointment, we were happily heading into the second trimester. What sweet relief!  We shared a picture of your sisters on Facebook to announce your upcoming arrival. Then just a week or so later we received a phone call on a Saturday evening.  My doctor called to tell us you were a healthy baby girl!  Mommy and Nana went off to buy supplies to surprise your sisters with the news.  That night, Lily and Ella excitedly pulled open a box of pink balloons that revealed that they would have a baby sister.  They were both over the moon!


Over the next week or so, Mommy started to feel little flutters and nudges from you.  What a wonderful feeling!  I quickly learned that if I laid quietly on my side with my legs curled up, I could get you to squirm around.  


With the news that you were a girl, I started buying adorable little outfits in pink, purple, and yes, even blue.  Lily and Ella started choosing things that had been theirs and setting them aside for you.  They put together a basket of books, Ella found her old "wa-wers," and they even decided they could part with a stuffed animal and blanket or two.  We talked again about what to name you at dinner one night and when Ella suggested Olivia, we all agreed that we liked it.  Well, to be honest, she suggested Paige Olivia Grace, but that was a bit much for a little girl.  Olivia would be a beautiful name for our beautiful daughter.  What an exciting time for our family!


As the 16 week appointment approached, we were feeling good.  All we had to do now was continue on through the pregnancy with the tough anxiety and morning sickness of the first trimester growing more and more distant in our rear-view mirror.  I carried this optimism for you, our strong girl, despite questioning over the past several days whether I was still feeling you move. I convinced myself that there was nothing to worry about.  It was still early to feel any movement at all, so I couldn’t expect daily movement, right?  It was easy to believe this. You had proven your staying power many times before.  The day of the appointment, Mommy and Daddy sat confidently in the doctor’s office and talked animatedly about our day as we waited for the doctor.  


She came in and set to work to listen to your heartbeat.  No one expected what came next--heart-wrenching silence.  Dr. L said not to worry as she left the room for the portable ultrasound machine.  Ok, I thought, we will just get an extra peek at our little girl.   Dr. L pulled up your image on the screen and said she already saw your little heart beating.  I wasn’t so sure though, and I told her I was glad she did because I couldn’t see it.  What followed was a long and uncomfortable silence.  Then Dr. L sadly admitted that she had seen a flicker in the image, but that she couldn’t see your heartbeat after all.  


How could this be?!  We were beyond the first trimester and had a clean bill of health from the blood work that had told us you were a little girl.  We had shared our exciting news about you with everyone, and now it was all crashing down around us.  My doctor presented two options about what our next step would be but there was no choice in our minds. We would be sent to the hospital to induce labor and I would deliver you.  We would hold you and love you and steal as many memories as we could during our short time together.


Daddy drove us both home and we began the heart-wrenching task of sharing our devastating news.  Ella was in disbelief at first. She had spent every day since finding out about you 7 weeks earlier talking about you, hugging you through my belly, and imagining you as her little sister.  Lily was so angry that you were gone. She threw all the things that had accumulated for you all around the room yelling that they were all trash. She felt your loss so deeply and more intensely than Mommy and Daddy had ever seen her feel.


We spent the next few days wrapping our heads around what was happening.  We felt disbelief and incredible sorrow.  But we also made plans about how to take care of you during our final opportunity--your birthday. We decided that your name would be Olivia Claire and that we would remember you with the symbol of a violet, a name Daddy really liked.  We made the difficult decision that we would have your body cremated so that I could keep you close to my heart in a violet shaped charm.   We prepared ourselves for saying “Hello” and “Goodbye” all in the same day.  


Oh, sweet baby, we cried and we cried together.  Your Mommy, Daddy, sisters, grandparents, aunts and uncles, we all cried for the loss of you.  Daddy and Mommy clung to each other for support and grieving.  We became closer together than ever before.  Thank you for that priceless gift, Olivia.  Even the sky, which had been bone-dry all through September decided to open up and rain for the two days after we found out and the two days after you were born.  


The days between finding out you were gone and waiting to go to the hospital flew by too quickly.  Although I was devastated, I also took some small pleasure in enjoying my last few days of carrying you.  I knew that all too soon even that would be gone.


The morning of Sunday, October 5th arrived and Mommy and Daddy went to the hospital to begin what was the hardest day of our lives.  Mommy began by asking a slew of prepared questions: Could we take one final look with the ultrasound? (She didn’t see why not) Would we be able to cremate your little body? (yes)  How would the pain drugs work?  When I found out that the medicine was likely to alter my awareness, I made the resolve to carry on without them. I wanted to be fully present during our short time together.


Luckily, you made it easy on me.  I didn’t feel much of anything for the first 5 or so hours.  Then the pain slowly started to increase.  I was really starting to get uncomfortable after about 6 or 7 hours so I was pacing the hospital room to relieve some discomfort.  All of a sudden, my water broke.  Olivia, you are my only baby who gave me the experience of my water breaking spontaneously.  It was then that I knew you were really on your way.  But also, the pain suddenly just stopped.  And you know what? It never returned.
Over the next hour, my body prepared for your delivery pain-free.  Then the time arrived for us to meet you.  Dr. L told me to push and I barely gave any effort and at 8:38 pm out you came already sleeping.  We were shocked by some horrible effects of the delivery on your fragile little body but Daddy reminded me that you were our baby and beautiful and precious no matter what your body endured.  


My doctor and the nurses left with you for a while to get your hand and footprints (Now Mommy’s prized possession) and to make some repairs to your delicate body before Mommy and Daddy would see and hold you.  During that time, we cried for you and the lost opportunity to raise you. But then we prepared ourselves for the important opportunity of meeting you and loving on you before our final goodbye.


The nurses dressed you in a purple bunting hand-knitted by a wonderful stranger.  We took turns holding you and studying your little features.  Was that Mommy’s almond-shaped eyes we saw? What about Daddy’s strong nose?  We held your hand and foot on our fingertips.  Everything was so tiny but so perfect.  We baptized you and took pictures to remember you.  When the nurses and chaplain left us alone with you we sang you a lullaby and Mommy was overcome with the intense NEED to read you a book.  Dr. L found one and we shared our first and last book together. Daddy danced with you and we held you some more.  Too quickly, it was time to say goodbye.  


We left the hospital empty of the one thing we wanted more than anything: our third baby girl. Instead, we had a hand-painted box covered in violets (another item prepared by a stranger to help us in this terrible time) filled with memories.  A pink card with your name, footprints, birth time and weight.  A ceramic casting of your footprints and hands.  The bunting you wore while we held you.  A miniature hat, blanket, hair bow and bear (handmade and donated for a special angel like you).  Hospital bracelets you would never wear.  A card with all the important information about your birth.  These are all treasures for us now as we remember you, our daughter, sister, granddaughter, niece.  A day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t looked at and lovingly touched each item in the box.  And just like any proud momma, I share your treasures with everyone I can.  


The days since your birth have been very difficult.  We are sadder than we have ever been before. We mourn the loss of opportunity to raise you. We will never see your smile, hear your first word, smell your delightful baby smell. Your sisters mourn the loss of the opportunity to meet you, care for you, and play with you.  And even as I write this, my body is preparing to feed you a meal you will never eat.


My mind is filled with WHYS.  WHY aren’t you still kicking, growing and LIVING inside me like you are supposed to be? WHY you? WHY us?  WHY were you taken a lifetime too soon? WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY?


You are forever our daughter. We will always carry you in our hearts.  We miss you and love you and long for you.  Sweet dreams, Olivia Claire.  


Love Mommy