Saturday, July 31, 2010

Penny #7

I found Penny #7 in the summer fun building! We were all cleaning up, and the floor was mopped and swept. I had to walk back through after all that was done, and there it was. How could someone have missed that while they were cleaning?

Thank you so much for the penny at work.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

The world is moving on without me

Have you ever had the dream, or seen the scene in a movie where a person is walking in slow motion and the whole world is in super fast forward around them?

Well, that's how my life feels every. day. Every day it's like i'm just standing still and the whole world just keeps moving on without me. And here i stand, wanting to keep up with it, wanting to keep moving with it, but i can't. It's a very frustrated feeling, as you can probably imagine. And there's nothing I can do about it.

There's nothing I can do but watch the world keep moving... while I stand and watch it all happen.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Penny #5 and #6

Thank you for both of the pennies today!!!

I was really struggling today. I started off the day missing you more than ever. I was dropping your big brother off at grandmas, and then I was off to camp. It was supposed to be the other way around. Dropping brother off at camp, and then we would have gone to visit grandma.

I was so down, I decided to go visit you during work. I needed that little visit to help me through the day.

And when I get back to work, I find a penny from you!!! Thank you so very much.

I thought that was more than enough, but after work as i'm walking back out to my car I spot another penny from you!

Two pennies today, when I was struggling. I thank you for them.

I love you, and miss you. Forever and always, no matter what.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Balloons to heaven

Bittersweet. I think that's the perfect word for today. It was a sweet day, a celebration... but it was also difficult. The bereaved parents support group I attend had a celebration today. The whole reason for this celebration was for us to write notes to our children, attach them to a balloon and send them away to heaven.

I hate the fact that I had to write that note at all, and the reason why we were all there. But it felt nice to send it. Jason and I tied our balloons together. Jason said he liked my note better, which was quite funny because I liked his better. I know that Aurora will love both of them equally.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Why won't you talk to us?

I spent some time with an old, good friend today. She did exactly what I needed... talked to me. We talked about Aurora, and I answered some of the questions she had. It was exactly what I needed, and exactly what i'll always need.

I'm so tired of people not knowing how to talk to me, or any of my family to be exact. They're afraid to talk to me because they're afraid to make me cry. They don't know what to bring up, or what to talk about, because they're afraid. I understand. They're trying to help. But with the huge elephant in the room, it's kind of hard to miss.

I'm going to cry anyways. I'm going to always be sad. The elephant, it's always going to be there, it doesn't matter if you talk about it or not.

In a book i currently read, the author writes a chapter about this. I'd like to share some of it.

Weddings and live-baby births are easy. The world is perfectly set up to handle them, and everyone knows exactly what to do. There are zillions of cards and invitations designed specifically to announce that this person is marrying that person, or baby-blah-blah was born. There are clear-cut, template ways to behave and converse about such things, and a preapproved set of gifts that are socially appropriate to give and recieve. Even funerals aren't anything new; they happen everyday, on TV, in real life. We know what they are; we understand them.

Stillbirth, on the other hand, is unchartered territory for everyone.

As my grief group has mentioned. We become the teachers now. We are here to let everyone know that talking to us is what we need!

Do not feel like you need to leave us out of something because you are afraid of hurting us - you can't hurt us any worse than we already are.

Do not feel like you can talk to us about certain subjects because you're afraid to make us cry - I cry anyways, what you say or do not say doesn't matter.

We will be ok. Let us determine what is "too much" and what isn't! We'll let you know. We understand you're trying to help, but what you are doing is not helping. It makes us feel like aliens, like we have some sort of contaigous disease. We need you to treat us like normal, because normal is something we're not feeling and normal is something we are craving.

A letter from your brother

Aurora, your half brother wrote a story about you today at camp. All the kids had to write a story about themselves. This is what he wrote:

I had a sister that died. She died before she was born. She did not get to see the flowers, the clouds, the water, the birds and the earth.

I hope you always know that your brother loves you. He might have wished for you to be a boy, but now he just wishes that you were here. Just like all of us.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Babies aren't interchangeable

I wish you wouldn't tell me I could have another baby. The truth is I want the baby I lost and no other baby can replace her. Babies aren't interchangeable.....

Friday, July 9, 2010

How can we be festive at the festival?

It's French Festival weekend at the river. This is something I have come to every summer that I've been alive. I'm pretty sure I've never missed a year. It's nothing big, but its a tradition in our family.

This weekend was supposed to be your first weekend at the river. Your first time camping. I already had everything planned out for this trip. You would have loved it Aurora.

I've been doing very good lately. Smiling when I think about you. Smiling when I talk about you. We've been doing good. I knew this weekend was going to be hard, but since I've been doing well I thought it would atleast be bearable. Well. Once again, I was wrong.
We are not even there yet! Currently in the car as I'm typing this... and I can't seem to stop crying. This may be our 3rd time to the river since losing you, but you weren't supposed to be with us on those trips. The trip today. This is the one you were supposed to be going on.

I was looking forward to introducing you to everyone up there. I wanted to push you around the festival, buying new additions to our families wooden plaque. I wanted to take you out on the boat. All the photographs I wanted to take. And now.. Its raining like crazy and I'm missing you like crazy.

Milestones, triggers, all of the above. They suck. This sucks.

You are here in all of our hearts. I just wish you were here in person. I love you.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

I'm okay.

Sometimes I like to think that if I say "I'm okay" enough, it will come true.

Its the phrase everyone wants to hear anyways. When people ask, do they really want the truth? If I said "I'm doing pretty good" the guilt starts to drip in. Do they now think I'm over it? Cause that will never happen.

And with the truth. Do they really want to hear how my dead baby is on my thoughts almost all day long. That I wonder what she'd be doing right now. What clothes would I have her in? Would she be eating good? How many diapers would I have changed by now? Would she be smiling? Laughing?

Do they really want to hear how the only thing I think will make me ok is to have my baby in my arms.

With times, the "I'm okay" line is slowly getting closer to the truth. But with the holidays its hard. Thinking of the little cute outfits I had planned and all the love we had for her.

So If you want to know how we're doing. We're okay.