A wise friend from my pregnancy loss support group left me a touching comment.  D and his wife lost their beautiful daughter Audrey a year and 3 months ago.  They are all too familiar with grief and I use their progress as a gage for how my own grief is going to progress.  This is the beauty of having other babylost mamas and papas in your life.  He says that the way he sees grief now is related to the love for his daughter.  When he feels grief, it reminds him of his deep love for his daughter.

What a great way to look at grief.  It’ll be a change in thought process but I think that with time, I can see grief in that way too.  It’s true, I feel the saddest when I’m really missing my daughter.  So, maybe if I don’t think of grief as my eternal foe, but a reminder of my love for Riley, I can live with a little peace in my life.  It has been an exhausting year-long  battle with this invisible monster called grief.  Maybe I need to make friends with it because unfortunately, it’s not going anywhere.

You live, you learn, and you survive.  I am going to do my best to change my frame of thought because I can get pretty self-destructive in the midst of grief.  And I can’t do that anymore.  It’s eating away at me and my health.  I don’t think Riley would be happy to see me in this state.  So, thanks D for your comment and your friendship.  I’m glad that we got to meet you at the club that no one wants to join. 

Had Riley lived, I know that she would have 1) loved the ocean, 2) been an animal lover, and 3) would have been civic minded.  As you all know, the beach is somewhere my husband and I go to be close to Riley.  So it was fitting to join “Heal the Bay,” an organization that cleans up beaches the day after Riley’s Angel Day.  It was something I thought would make her proud.

So a group of my friends set out to clean up a local beach.  Once we got there.. we found out that Heal the Bay had cancelled the event.  My husband went to look for plastic bags in the truck.  Luckily, a friend thought ahead to bring along some disposable gloves.  We had stiff competition for trash.  In all of my years of volunteering, I had never seen so many people gather to clean up the beach.  It turns out that a group from a local college came out that day to clean up the beach.

a huge group from a local college came to clean.

I love to see kids volunteering..

 

With each piece of trash I picked up off of the beach, I thought of my Riley.  It felt great to be something with a purpose.

cleaning up the beach one bag at a time

my hubby and I wore the shirts we wore to the March of Dimes Walk.

Afterwards, my husband wrote our daughter’s name in the sand.  Riley has travelled to many beaches now. 

We love you Riley!

We also wrote the name of friend’s grandson who died earlier this year.  Sometimes we forget that grandparents are deeply affected by grief too.

I wonder what James and Riley are doing right now?

One of our support group friends wrote his daughter’s name in the sand.  We laughed as we watched him battle the elements of earth and sea to write Audrey’s name in the sand.

Look what daddy's doing for you, Audrey!

 

 

 

Another friend from our support group had a great idea.. she wanted to write the initials for our 3 babies in heaven in a heart.  What a sweet idea.  I’m sure the three of them are running around together in heaven.  My friend D tells us that her son would be watching out for the two girls because he is the oldest.  I’m sure that’s true.

Riley, Audrey, and Julian..

After writing Riley’s name in the sand, we worked up an appetite.  On our way to the restaurant, a man was handing out something.. He placed the card in my hand.  I looked down at it and you won’t belive what was on that card…

mommy hears you..

 

What are the odds of getting a card with Riley’s name on it AND the fact that it’s from a dog boutique.  I loooove dogs.  I can only explain this as a message from Riley.  This is not the first time something like this has happened.  I think we made Riley proud.  We love you Riley!  Happy one year Angel Day.  I hope you’re running, jumping, laughing, and loving in heaven.  Until we meet.. I survive another day without you. 

‘Tis the season to give thanks.  But when you’ve lost a baby, sometimes it’s hard to find things to be grateful for.  At my pregnancy loss support group a couple of weeks ago, the leader of our group asked us to start thinking about things that we are thankful for despite the loss  because there is always something to be thankful for.  Up until this past Saturday, I did not want to think about gratitude.  My Riley is gone, what is there to be grateful for?  I’m entitled to feel that way, I think all things considered.  However, if Riley were here, I would have raised her to be a grateful human being so I need to be an example for my daughter even though she is up in heaven. 

So, here is my gratitude list (in no particular order)  as we approach Thanksgiving:

1)  My friends who have been so steadfast in caring and loving all three of us:  Todd, Riley, and me.

2) My online friends who I have not had the priviledge of meeting but have been such a support.  There’s a reason why we’ve found each other even if it’s only virtually.

3)  My students (all 135 of them) who warm my heart everyday.  I get to shower the love I have for Riley on them – especially my special needs kids, they’re extra special!

4) My husband who has been a constant source of love and strength throughout the grief of losing our daughter. 

5) My pregnancy loss support group who has allowed me to find people who know my heart without me having to say a single word and who have become family.

6) A roof over our heads, food in our bellies (sometimes too much), a job to keep us provided for.

7) Having a family to belong to.

Being able to find beauty in this world we live in though sometimes it’s very hard.

9)  The kindness of strangers and acquaintances which have blessed me throughout this past year.

10)  My daughter Riley who has given me the gift of deeper love and understanding, of forgiveness, and finding a greater purpose in life.

11)  For finding the strength each day to survive the grief that has become my constant companion.

12)  For music that soothes me, for art that inspires me, for nature whose grandness always humbles me, for the ocean where I feel close to my daughter.

13)  For the UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship).. my source of releasing anger when I feel like ripping the walls apart.  (Silly I know..)

14) My weiner dogs who allow me (actually they have no choice) to cradle them like a baby and have helped me with my “empty arms” syndrome.

It’s amazing how many things I have to be grateful for once I actually started writing it down.  I hope that you will be able to find things to be grateful for..

I love you Riley!  One of these days, I hope I can start talking to you out loud and not just in my heart.  You’re in heaven, so I’m sure you have tons to be grateful for.  Mommy’s so thankful that she had you in her life for 20 weeks.  It was the best 20 weeks of my life.. I miss you, baby..

Today is Riley’s Angel Day.  It’s been a year since we said good-bye.  I wish I can say that  the day passed peacefully but I can’t. It was a rough one.

At 4:15 p.m. last year, glorious angels took Riley to heaven.  So, at 4:15 p.m. today, my husband and I celebrated the life of our daughter the best way we could.  I bought her a very girlie, pink and fuzzy birthday hat.  “I’m 1 today!” is written on it.  Since I don’t have Riley to put the hat on, I did the next best thing.  I put it on a bear we received from the pregnancy loss support group.  I bought a slice of strawberry shortcake and put a candle shaped like a 1 on the top.  My husband told Riley how much we loved her and hope that she had a great birthday in heaven.  He blew out the candle.  We looked at her ultrasound pictures and looked through the other trinkets we collected throughout the last year.  I wept and wept and wept.  My heart broke a little more today. 

"I'm 1 today!" was written on the hat.

happy birthday to you, sweet Riley.. happy birthday to you!

“Deliver Me” – Sarah Brightman

Deliver me, out of my sadness
Deliver me, from all of the madness
Deliver me, courage to guide me
Deliver me, strength from inside me

All of my life I’ve been in hiding
Wishing there was someone just like you
Now that you’re here, now that I’ve found you
I know that you’re the one to pull me through

Deliver me, loving and caring
Deliver me, giving and sharing
Deliver me, the cross that I’m bearing

All of my life I was in hiding
Wishing there was someone just like you
Now that you’re here, now that I’ve found you
I know that you’re the one to pull me through

Deliver me
Deliver me
Oh deliver me

All of my life I was in hiding
Wishing there was someone just like you
Now that you’re here, now that I’ve found you
I know that you’re the one to pull me through

Deliver me
Oh deliver me
Won’t you deliver me

Listen to it here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7dwP8Q1I9Vs&feature=related

I’m finding it therapeutic to let myself remember the tragic events of last year so I’m going to continue.  It’s dredging up some very difficult emotions but I think that’s what I need.

7 a.m. today of last year, I was back at the ob-gyn’s office to get the second round of laminarias put in.  I came in before hours because the doctor was sensitive enough to have me come in before glowing, happy, pregnant women took over the office.  This time, I had 2 vicodins in my system.. it was to help with the pain.  More laminarias meant my cervix would be opened even more – one more step toward the inevitable.  The doctor took a sonogram but I couldn’t bear to watch.  My husband took a peek and a look of sadness swept over him. 

As we found out, baby loss is not considered “bereavement.”  So, we were to drain our sick days accumulated over the years before they would give us additional days.  As such, my husband was off to work.  At this point, I didn’t want his company – he couldn’t fully understand what I was going through.  It wasn’t his body that the baby was in.  I wanted it to be a mother and daugther day.  The last moments that we would be joined together. 

I spent the day on the couch, pacing the room, on the bed – the contractions were coming on stronger than the day before and the vicodin didn’t seem to be working.  Finally, I had to ask my husband to come home.  He spent an hour massaging my back to ease some of the pain.

This is the same pain that I would be experiencing had my pregnancy ended in a live birth.  The only difference is that the pain have been more bearable knowing that I would bring home a baby.  Unfortunately, I would not be blessed with such happy news.  That made the contractions all that much more painful.  I cried the whole day.  I stopped talking to my daughter – I did not know what to say except, “I’m sorry, baby.”

By 10 p.m, I was hysterical.. apologizing to the baby and telling my husband that I was going to go to hell for terminating.  My husband whispered, ” We don’t want our daughter to be in pain.  She’s going to be free and happy in heven.”  We cried ourselves to sleep.  I placed my hand over my belly.  I couldn’t save her but I hoped that the warmth of my hand would soothe her somehow.  It was all I could do.

I woke up on November 20th with my pants soaking wet.  I was sweating from the pain so I thought my pants were wet from that.  In actuality, my water had broken.. my baby was ready to fly to heaven.  I started to bleed.

I have often written about how irony has followed me around in the last year.  Yesterday, I started spotting blood.  My period is not due for another 1o days.  What a stab!  Did my body really have to remind me of what happened last year?  As if I didn’t know already? 

I feel so sad.  I wish that I could see her in my belly again.  I wish that things could have been different.  I wish that I could get  a glimpse of what she looks like now.  This emptiness I feel will always be there – in varying degrees, of course.  I hope that I can keep it together tomorrow.  I really don’t want Riley’s day to be filled with sadness.  I want to celebrate her birthday even though she is not technically here.

I will try to be quiet.. and still.. then maybe I can feel her angel wing graze my cheek or perhaps hear her warm whisper.  I love you, my baby girl.  You are always in my heart.

It’s 7 a.m. on November 18th of last year.  My husband and I drove to my third ob-gyn’s office an hour before the office opened because I was going in for a consultation.  I would have rather been happily pregnant in bed rubbing my belly.  Instead I had to have the most horrific conversation I’ve ever had to have with anyone.  My daughter was really sick – she had severe hydrocephalus.  On a scale of 1-10, 1 being the worst, she was at a 4.  My perinatologist told me that if she made it to term, she could suffer from any or all of the following health conditions:

mental retardation, seizures, inability to control her limbs, inability to control her moods, congenital hearth defects, the list went on and on.  She would need to have a shunt placed in her skull hours after she was born.  She would need a second surgery at 3 months and then again at 2 years.  She may have needed more depending on the effectiveness of the shunt. She probably would have needed a full reconstructive skull surgery as a baby.   She would need to work witha physical therapist, occupational therapist, psychologist, and specialists.  She probably would have needed to attend a special school.  The bottom line was that she would have been in pain – excruciating pain.

Because of all these things, my husband and I decided to terminate our pregnancy.  At that time, I never met anyone who had terminated a much wanted pregnancy.  A pregnancy that I treasured.  It was so surreal, talking to my ob-gyn who would deliver my baby to heaven.  So unnatural.. such pain.  I remember asking the doctor if any other mother who had a baby with this condition decided to terminate.  He said that he’d never met a mother who did not terminate considering. 

My husband and I talked about this.  We could not bring our daugther into this world with the knowledge that she would spend a good part of it in physical and later emotional pain.  As badly as we felt, we could not picture our baby in pain. 

20 mintues later, I was in the examining room getting laminarias inserted to open up my cervix.  The pain that followed was unreal.  By opening up the cervix, I was experiencing contractions.  More painful than my body was my heart.  This was not the way my pregnancy was supposed to end.  I was sent home with some pain killers and was told to come back the next morning to get more laminarias put in.

I hobbled out to the car and sobbed all the way home.  I spent the next 24 hours crying and apologizing to my daughter.  I felt like I somehow caused her hydrocephalus.  Maybe I could’ve done something different.  Not eaten something.  Eaten more of something.  Maybe I didn’t pray hard enough.  Maybe, maybe, maybe…  What if, what if, what if??? 

Having gone through all that I have in the past year, would I choose to never have been pregnant?  No..  Because my daughter made me better.  She left me a better person.

 

I received a special package in the mail over the weekend.  It was from a close friend of mine who lives in Florida.  Even with the miles and miles of land between us, she still manages to support me whenever I’m in the dumps.  In the package was a beautiful bracelet.  I tried to take a picture of it but none did it justice so I’ll describe it instead.

The bracelet is made of aquamarine stones that reminds me of waves crashing against boulders in the clearest tropical waters.  Nestled between the beads are 5 small, silver beads.  Each bead spells out my daughter Riley’s name.  She wrote:  I saw these aquamarine stones at the bead store and it reminded me of the ocean.. and of you writing Riley’s name on the beach.  If I could somehow put a picture to the thoughts and feelings that go through me when I’m on Riley’s beach, this bracelet is it.  It felt good to know that Riley is gone but certainly not forgotten.

But what really made me tear up were the beautiful words on the card that came with the bracelet. I hope my friend won’t mind me blogging about it.  She wrote:

I can only imagine how difficult it must be to have two such disparate occasions fall within the same month – your anniversary and the day Riley went to heaven.  I think it’s truly fitting, though- the love you share brought you your Angel, Riley, and the strength of that love, and of your marriage, will pull you through and sustain you as you move forward  and grow your family.

I’ve struggled with these two dates colliding with each other, resulting in such mixed feelings.  But my friend is right.. Riley is a product of our love and in a tragically beautiful way, it is fitting that the two dates fall in the same month.  I’m choked up as I write this… I’ve been emotionless for so long and it’s all coming back like the waves that break on Riley’s beach.

I’ve been staring at Riley’s memory box for days now.  But I’m afraid to open it.  I’m afraid to look through the 2 ultrasound pictures and of the trinkets that I’ve collected along the way.  I’m terrified of the feeling of loneliness that is going to go right through me.  I miss my daugther.  She brought such joy into my life.  I’m trying to stay in the moment of time .. the moment when I found out I was pregnant.  The moment we first saw her on the screen at our ob-gyn.  The moment when we saw her in my belly punching the air.  The moment when we allowed ourselves to dream of  a future for three.  Damn.. I let myself dream.  And now that dream is completely shattered.

I miss Riley so much. 

I’ve been listening to “Footprints in the Sand” by Leona Lewis.  This is the story of Riley and me.. her footsteps in the sand, her spirit watching over me.

You can hear it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rqsltr5vsE&feature=related

Tonight, I was watching the t.v. show “Trauma.”  In this episode, a man who becomes intoxicated is driven home by a close friend.   As they are reminiscing about their childhood, the driver becomes distracted and gets into a horrible car wreck.  The man survives but his friend (the driver) is fatally injured.  The man asks the medic if his friend is going to make it.  The medic tries to make the man feel better by telling him that his friend will be fine, which turns out to be a lie.

As irony would have it, the friend dies in the helicopter on the way to the hospital.  When the man wakes up in the hospital, he looks for his friend.  The doctor tells him that his friend has died but he does not believe him because the medic reassured him that his friend would be okay.  The only way he will believe that his friend has died is a trip to the morgue where his friend lies dead.

All of this leads up to one of the most profound statements I’ve heard in quite awhile.  The medic tells the man, “You are looking for a cause and effect to your friend’s death.”  “Unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way.”  The man says, “I don’t know what to do.”  The medic replies, “Just live.”

This has been the past year of my life.  I’ve been asking, “Why?”  “Why did I lose my baby?”  “What did I do that was so awful that I have to be punished in this way?”  Questions that all babylost mamas and papas aske themselves.  To my dismay, I haven’t found an answer nor do I feel like I’ll ever get my question answered.  It wasn’t karma.  It wasn’t that I sinned too much.  It wasn’t anything I did or did not do that caused my baby to die.  It was just what happened.  There was no cause.  No effect. 

As I anticipate Riley’s Angel Day, I’ve been living in dread.  I’ve asked myself, “What am I supposed to do now?”  Just live.. that’s the only appropriate answer.  What do you do when your daugther dies before she was born?  Just live.  Day by day.  Moment by moment.  Second by second.  Just live and try to make the world better along the way because Riley has made me a better person.  That’s her legacy. 

4 days to go – meltdown or no meltdown?? I’m surprisingly calm today.  Maybe the day will pass peacefully.  I’ll think positively.

I’m counting down waiting for the worst to hit.  Right now, I don’t know what I’m feeling.  I feel okay but can feel the simmer inside me start to boil over.  I’m irritated.  Not at anyone or anything in particular.. just irritated at life.  I’ve cried a little each day.  It feels like a pre-cursor to the feelings that will emerge on Friday.

When I ask my husband how he is holding up, he always tells me that he doesn’t know. Though I did notice that he’s been eating us out of house and home in the last few days.. to the point that he’s physically ill.  He asked me why I thought he was eating so much.  Ah, welcome to my world.  I told him that he’s been stuffing his emotions with food.   Something that I’ve been doing for the last month.

This really sucks.  I look ahead into the future and all I see is 30 more Angel Days in November and 30 more Expected Due Dates in April.  It just seems to come and come.  I stop myself and focus on the now but I can’t help but to feel hopeless.  The thought of living my life without Riley seems so bleak.

Today, my husband and I went to go watch 2012 – a story of armaggedon, end of times in bibilical proportions.  Would I be the type to try to outrun a tidal wave or a collapsing mountain?  Or would I stay put and accept my fate?  A year ago, I’d be a runner – panic struken and fighting for any way to survive.  Today?  I would sit, reflect, and look forward to seeing Riley in heaven.  Losing a baby helps with the whole fear of death thing.  I thought that blogging may help get my emotions out but I don’t think it’s working.  My heart feels like it’s had a razor blade slice through it.

Today was our wedding anniversary.  We picked Veteran’s Day as our wedding date because 1) we would always have the day off and 2) it was a way to help my hubby remember our anniversary date.  11/11 is husband proof.  So, we woke up when our bodies wanted us to.  I actually cooked my husband a pretty lavish breakfast and we went to the movies.

Afterwards, we headed off to a seafood buffet.  Unfortunately, we got there an hour too early.  So, we decided to take a drive to the chapel where we got married.  I love the drive along the ocean that drops down into intimate coves.  It’s the route I take when my head feels full and my heart feels uneasy.  It takes the edge off.  We made it just in time to go inside the chapel to just sit and remember our wedding.  It’s a beautiful chapel surrounded by trees and gardens.  You could lose time just sitting there in it’s serenity. 

With Riley’s Angel Day approaching, we couldn’t help but to tear up a bit.  November used to be my favorite month.  It’s when the air turns crisp, the leaves start gathering in piles.. it’s a month of thanks and gratitude.  The fact that we got married in November was just icing on the cake for me.  Now, sadly, this month is muted.  Yes, our wedding anniversary is something to celebrate but I have to say that we don’t celebrate it with the same gusto.  It’s quiet and takes a back seat to the looming date ahead. 

I asked my husband to say a few words.  He said that he hoped that Riley was having fun in heaven and that her mom and day love her so much.  With tears in his eyes, he said that he wished with all his heart that she could be with us to share in our family events.  He prayed that this coming year will include some joy.  I hate to say it but I have a hard time believing in prayer.  I had plenty of people praying for Riley and she is still gone.  How do you explain that?  I guess I believe in prayer as a way to cope but I don’t believe that it will magically fix things or have what you want so desperately come true.  I hope that one day, I can make more sense of where I stand in my faith.  One thing is for sure.. I don’t think God will abandon me because I’m asking questions.  That’s not the God in my heart..

I still am unable to talk to my daughter out loud.  I guess for me, talking to her out loud makes the fact that she’s gone all too real.  Instead, I sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” for Riley.  It’s what I do when I’m mute yet I need to let her know that I was thinking of her.  I hope that she heard me.

Outside is a beautiful fountain.  We each made a wish.  Mine:  I wished for a healthy baby in 201o.  My husband:  he wished for a healthy, happy family because he wants me to be well too.  Lately, I’ve done a lot of pushing away and neglecting my health.  Some people smoke, others drink away the pain.  I stuff my feelings with food. 

All in all, it was a good day.  We haven’t spent much quality time together lately.  And it felt great to have included Riley in our celebration.  We lit the candle from our wedding day and spent the rest of the night in bed with our 2 dogs.  Two days from today, I know that I will be in shambles again.  11/13 of last year is when we found out at 19.5 weeks gestational age that Riley was very sick.  I’m on that metaphorical roller coaster- just waiting for the ride to stop so that I can hop off.  I wonder if I’ll ever be able to get off…