I wonder things like that. I know that Jenni's ashes are here (finally). I know that there is a small amt that I wear around my neck every day. But I still wonder on a cold rainy day like today, does she get cold? Does she get lonely? Does she???? I think about having her here with me, snuggled up on the couch in a warm one piece and cozy blanket and just having her beside me. With her sisters and brother(s) running back and forth, speaking as the chaos of a house of 'life' goes about it's daily routine. But my home is no longer a house of life. This house is STILL in mourning. Even as my children are trying to move forward because they are kids and that is what they are supposed to do, move forward; I feel like I interfer in that. I keep them from moving forward completely. I don't know that I will ever be able to move forward. My heart is broken beyond repair and I just don't know if there is a way to put it back together in any way that functions in a reasonable way. I wonder if I will always be in this state of shock. I can't touch or hold someone else's baby. I can't attend baby showers. I can't look at pregnant women without feeling a surge of emotions. I've tried the 'medicated' route, but if this is the meds 'helping' I would hate to even imagine what I would be like without them. I can sit through an entire movie and actually not tell you a thing about what I watched. I find myself answering questions and not knowing what was asked. How long before this gets better? I don't see that it is ever going to get better.
To make matters worse a local florist has been trying for 2 days to deliver flowers here by mistake. NO ONE lives here by the name that you are trying to deliver them to. They have to do with the loss of a baby too. But the person that it is from, I don't know. And I am not the person that it is address to. How can life be so cruel. How can life be so mean. How do people move on.
Chris is off doing his thing. Moving on with his life. I often feel that because we weren't married and because the pregnancy and the loss was not a part of his everyday life, that Jenni was just a blip on his life's screen. The blip is gone and so he moves on. The 'blip', my baby is gone and my life is stuck in 'this place'. A place of pain, hurt, disconnection. I no longer know who I am or where I am going. I often envy Chris and his ability to move on, whether it is real or just out of denial. Today, I would like to trade places with him.
Life is cruel and overwhelming. I want to sleep and forget that breathing and being takes any sort of effort. Because I simply no longer have the effort.
If 'this' is healing, then I can't handle healing either.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
'Hopeful'...
***End note, at the beginning. I did not have a title here until just now. I realized that Chris made a statement on the phone to me Tuesday night about being 'hopeful for tomorrow'. It was about something entirely different than what I am discussing here, but that statement just came back to me. And that is my outlook for today, not because I feel like it is one that I am forcing or pushing, but because today... it just seems natural.***
It's early still, but today feels good. It feels hopeful. I will NOT look for that sign from my baby girl that I have been waiting for since her delivery, but I think that I will be more opened to seeing it if it ends up right infront of me. I've been thinking about 'signs' lately. I have wanted, begged and cried for signs from our baby since I become co-herent about a week and a half after her birth. That first week I was only alive because my body didn't have the sense to shut down. But then I started looking for signs and I wonder if she sent me signs that I have just been unable to see because my grief has been so intense. We look for signs, us mommies. It's a way to contact with our babies. But I also think that we are so hurt that we need the signs to be obvious. We need the signs to come with our baby's picture attached or a note from God, something just so that we know that we aren't imagining it. And in that way, I think that we often prevent ourselves from seeing what could be there.
I have a small wooden cross necklace that the teddy bear is supposed to be wearing that holds some of Jenni ashes. When she was missing and that was all that they found, I started wearing it. It is uncomfortable and a bit tight. I think that I need to look around for one of those nice necklaces that I can have some of her remains placed in. Something that I can wear all of the time, this necklace wouldn't be appropriate if I were to be getting dressed up. Hopefully I can find an urn necklace reasonably priced, I've seen them before for $150 or less. That's less than most people spend on computer toys or hair appts, so I am really going to make an effort here. I think that it is something that my heart needs. Now, if I can remember the site that I saw them on before....
(go Yankees!) ;->
It's early still, but today feels good. It feels hopeful. I will NOT look for that sign from my baby girl that I have been waiting for since her delivery, but I think that I will be more opened to seeing it if it ends up right infront of me. I've been thinking about 'signs' lately. I have wanted, begged and cried for signs from our baby since I become co-herent about a week and a half after her birth. That first week I was only alive because my body didn't have the sense to shut down. But then I started looking for signs and I wonder if she sent me signs that I have just been unable to see because my grief has been so intense. We look for signs, us mommies. It's a way to contact with our babies. But I also think that we are so hurt that we need the signs to be obvious. We need the signs to come with our baby's picture attached or a note from God, something just so that we know that we aren't imagining it. And in that way, I think that we often prevent ourselves from seeing what could be there.
I have a small wooden cross necklace that the teddy bear is supposed to be wearing that holds some of Jenni ashes. When she was missing and that was all that they found, I started wearing it. It is uncomfortable and a bit tight. I think that I need to look around for one of those nice necklaces that I can have some of her remains placed in. Something that I can wear all of the time, this necklace wouldn't be appropriate if I were to be getting dressed up. Hopefully I can find an urn necklace reasonably priced, I've seen them before for $150 or less. That's less than most people spend on computer toys or hair appts, so I am really going to make an effort here. I think that it is something that my heart needs. Now, if I can remember the site that I saw them on before....
(go Yankees!) ;->
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Sometimes when I come here there really is nothing specific that I have to say, just emotions that lead me here. I've learned and continue to learn so much about 'this', being a parent with a loss, being the parent of a stillborn baby. None of it makes sense. I always thought that there was always a 'reason' for stillbirths. That with today's medical technology that no baby could be born lifeless and there be no reason behind it. I've learned that I am wrong. Babies are delivered everyday in this world, in medically advanced countries, and have no life. I feel moved to share my story to help find answers. We know the reason that 'Jenni' didn't live. We know that there was a cord accident. But I just can't believe that there had to be something that we could have done to know ahead of time to save her. Perhaps parents should have a way in the last trimester to do daily home checks of their babies. I don't know the answer, I just know that there has to be one. This pain is misery. It takes a little more of my life each and everyday. There has to be a reason for my loss, maybe my story, our story... mine & Chris' will help another mommy & daddy to never have to say goodbye the same time that they say hello.
I am thinking about October 15th and what I will do. There is a memorial service happening in the next town over. A candle lighting. To honor the babies gone. I so badly want to go, I just don't know if I am strong enough, especially to go alone. Do I go and just silently remember, do I go and speak out? Do I go and just watch? I guess there is no 'right' answer. I doubt that Chris will go. I understand. This is private to him. He needs to handle this the only way he knows how. I have to respect that. It doesn't mean that he ever wants another family to lose a baby or that he wouldn't do what he could to stop it from happening to someone else. It just means that we all grieve differently. He has been blessed in his life to not have to deal with much death and this is the ultimate in death. Even if this is someone that he never met, it IS someone that he 'knew'. Jenni was his daughter and he had hopes and dreams and love for her and their future together as father and daughter just as I did. We dream of our tomorrows for our children, their education, their first steps, college, future spouses & weddings.... when you lose a child all of those dreams are ripped away along with your heart. Chris never even had the chance to see our daughter in real life, only in pictures and now it is to late. //// So on October 15th what do I do? I know that I will mourn my baby. This loss is so different. I pray for a day when stillbirths are a thing of medical history. But for Chris and I, for so many parents; it will always remain our realities.
I am thinking about October 15th and what I will do. There is a memorial service happening in the next town over. A candle lighting. To honor the babies gone. I so badly want to go, I just don't know if I am strong enough, especially to go alone. Do I go and just silently remember, do I go and speak out? Do I go and just watch? I guess there is no 'right' answer. I doubt that Chris will go. I understand. This is private to him. He needs to handle this the only way he knows how. I have to respect that. It doesn't mean that he ever wants another family to lose a baby or that he wouldn't do what he could to stop it from happening to someone else. It just means that we all grieve differently. He has been blessed in his life to not have to deal with much death and this is the ultimate in death. Even if this is someone that he never met, it IS someone that he 'knew'. Jenni was his daughter and he had hopes and dreams and love for her and their future together as father and daughter just as I did. We dream of our tomorrows for our children, their education, their first steps, college, future spouses & weddings.... when you lose a child all of those dreams are ripped away along with your heart. Chris never even had the chance to see our daughter in real life, only in pictures and now it is to late. //// So on October 15th what do I do? I know that I will mourn my baby. This loss is so different. I pray for a day when stillbirths are a thing of medical history. But for Chris and I, for so many parents; it will always remain our realities.
Three Months In Heaven Today (& Good News)...
I got the call last night that they had found my beautiful baby girl's ashes. The short version of a long, confusing and sorted story that I still don't understand completely is that her urn, remains and all were accidentally packed and placed upstairs in the attic storage area. I am picking her up at the park today from the 'now retiring' funeral director. This isn't finished, but I can now put this blog back on track...
*************************TODAY*************************************************
This very moment 3 months ago, I was laying in the hospital bed feeling like my world had just come to an end. In many ways it did. I was struggling with whether or not to call 'Chris' and give him my room number. He wasn't going to be at the delivery due to personal reasons that arose the night before. He could have come after work that day, but I wanted him there for all or nothing and I didn't know if our baby girl would hold out until he got there. So he was not there. I so badly wanted to call him. I wanted him there, regardless. But somewhere between my pain and my pride I just didn't. I delivered my angel alone. It was THE most traumatic event in my life. I have held dead children in my arms before at car accidents in the town I used to live in, attended their funeral afterwards, and that traumatized me. I could 'see' those babies (7 yrs, 5yrs and 18mths with one 19 mths old survivor), when I was awake, when I slept... I saw them everywhere. I still visit their grave from time to time. But this was different. This was MY baby. MY child. MY flesh, MY blood, MY heart & soul. She was MY little person, mine and Chris'. She was perfect. I don't know what I expected from a stillborn baby, but she was not it. She looked simply like a quiet newborn. But she wasn't quiet, she was silent and still.
Today I mourn the things that I never had and never will....
... I never saw her smile
... I never heard her coo or giggle
... I never changed her wet diaper
... I never had my finger/hand grasped by her little hand
...... and I never will.
This event has changed me. I lost my beautiful baby girl that day. Her father and I had already decided long into the pregnancy that we would focus on being the best friends and best parents that we could be. That was more important than being a couple, being 'us'. I was ok with that. But even the friendship is gone now. So I lost my best friend too. Everything in my life has changed so drastically and traumatically in three months. I can never put into words the feeling of leaving that hospital without my daughter. I chose to remain there until I 'knew' she had left to go to the funeral home. I watched the funeral director take her down the hall in her bassinet, he was talking to her. People did not realize that she was not 'just sleeping'.
People do not know what to say to me now. If you have not been down this road, to have a newborn die, you will never understand this kind of loss regardless of how hard you may try to be sympathetic and understanding. And that's ok. Those of us walking down this road pray that you never have to join us on our journey. Sadly even Chris does not know what to say to me now. What I have learned and am still learning is this.... men and women mourn differently. Very differently. I do not expect that anyone can 'fix' this for me, but if you find yourself talking to a parent that has lost a child know that they don't want you to 'understand' or fix this. They simply want you to 'be there'. Let them talk, cry, laugh and sit quietly and you, just be there for them. Sometimes it is not about what you say, but simply your presence there beside someone, whether physically or in spirit, that gets them through a moment that is killing them inside. And with the loss of a baby, there are many of those moments. And I am still dying inside.
Chris...
If you are following this as I hope that you are since this is mainly intended to help you to understand where I have been in this.... I am sorry. I am sorry for the pain, I am sorry that I failed our baby girl and I am sorry that I failed you and did not call you. You should have gotten to meet your daughter. Maybe someday you can forgive me, but I do understand that day is not today.
*************************TODAY*************************************************
This very moment 3 months ago, I was laying in the hospital bed feeling like my world had just come to an end. In many ways it did. I was struggling with whether or not to call 'Chris' and give him my room number. He wasn't going to be at the delivery due to personal reasons that arose the night before. He could have come after work that day, but I wanted him there for all or nothing and I didn't know if our baby girl would hold out until he got there. So he was not there. I so badly wanted to call him. I wanted him there, regardless. But somewhere between my pain and my pride I just didn't. I delivered my angel alone. It was THE most traumatic event in my life. I have held dead children in my arms before at car accidents in the town I used to live in, attended their funeral afterwards, and that traumatized me. I could 'see' those babies (7 yrs, 5yrs and 18mths with one 19 mths old survivor), when I was awake, when I slept... I saw them everywhere. I still visit their grave from time to time. But this was different. This was MY baby. MY child. MY flesh, MY blood, MY heart & soul. She was MY little person, mine and Chris'. She was perfect. I don't know what I expected from a stillborn baby, but she was not it. She looked simply like a quiet newborn. But she wasn't quiet, she was silent and still.
Today I mourn the things that I never had and never will....
... I never saw her smile
... I never heard her coo or giggle
... I never changed her wet diaper
... I never had my finger/hand grasped by her little hand
...... and I never will.
This event has changed me. I lost my beautiful baby girl that day. Her father and I had already decided long into the pregnancy that we would focus on being the best friends and best parents that we could be. That was more important than being a couple, being 'us'. I was ok with that. But even the friendship is gone now. So I lost my best friend too. Everything in my life has changed so drastically and traumatically in three months. I can never put into words the feeling of leaving that hospital without my daughter. I chose to remain there until I 'knew' she had left to go to the funeral home. I watched the funeral director take her down the hall in her bassinet, he was talking to her. People did not realize that she was not 'just sleeping'.
People do not know what to say to me now. If you have not been down this road, to have a newborn die, you will never understand this kind of loss regardless of how hard you may try to be sympathetic and understanding. And that's ok. Those of us walking down this road pray that you never have to join us on our journey. Sadly even Chris does not know what to say to me now. What I have learned and am still learning is this.... men and women mourn differently. Very differently. I do not expect that anyone can 'fix' this for me, but if you find yourself talking to a parent that has lost a child know that they don't want you to 'understand' or fix this. They simply want you to 'be there'. Let them talk, cry, laugh and sit quietly and you, just be there for them. Sometimes it is not about what you say, but simply your presence there beside someone, whether physically or in spirit, that gets them through a moment that is killing them inside. And with the loss of a baby, there are many of those moments. And I am still dying inside.
Chris...
If you are following this as I hope that you are since this is mainly intended to help you to understand where I have been in this.... I am sorry. I am sorry for the pain, I am sorry that I failed our baby girl and I am sorry that I failed you and did not call you. You should have gotten to meet your daughter. Maybe someday you can forgive me, but I do understand that day is not today.
Monday, October 5, 2009
I Just Want to Give Up.....
and go to sleep and let the rest of the world go on around us. Until Jenni is home with her father or I, I just want to sleep. I am so incredibly unhappy. I find very little happiness in the other areas of my life, and yes that includes my other children. I know that makes me sound like some awful person. I do LOVE my other children and I am sure that I would feel this way if they were gone, but it's Jenni that is gone. I feel like I am dying inside and I honestly don't care to fight.
Maybe to medicine that is supposed to make me well, but makes me feel worse,,, well eventually make it all make sense. But for now, it makes me feel pretty much out of my head and that will work, at least for now.
I am sorry mommies and daddies, THIS is not how this blog was supposed to be. But I was also never supposed to have given birth to a silent baby nor was I ever supposed to lose her daddy, my best friend at the most painful time in my life either.... so I don't know what what I am supposed to do now. Please be patient with me and I will do my best to remove my head from my butt and get this back on line and do right by this blog... do right by all of my children, those here and those in heaven.... namely Angel Baby Jennifer.... DOB/DOD July 8, 2009 8:03pm
Maybe to medicine that is supposed to make me well, but makes me feel worse,,, well eventually make it all make sense. But for now, it makes me feel pretty much out of my head and that will work, at least for now.
I am sorry mommies and daddies, THIS is not how this blog was supposed to be. But I was also never supposed to have given birth to a silent baby nor was I ever supposed to lose her daddy, my best friend at the most painful time in my life either.... so I don't know what what I am supposed to do now. Please be patient with me and I will do my best to remove my head from my butt and get this back on line and do right by this blog... do right by all of my children, those here and those in heaven.... namely Angel Baby Jennifer.... DOB/DOD July 8, 2009 8:03pm
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Things that I will NOT regret...
You always think afterwards... 'I wish that I had done this or not done that'. With that brief amount of time back and forth between what I was willing to believe or accept, I had time to think about this. And so I had some thoughts about what I wanted to do when Jennifer was born still. This is a list of those things, it may not be complete. If I remember more things as I go, I will edit and add. If you know of someone that is facing an early infant death or a stillbirth, share this information with them. It can save them a lot of heartache in the long run.
I changed her clean diaper... twice.
I changed her clothes.
I talked to her and read to her and sang to her.
I stripped her completely naked and looked her over head to toe to see what looked like who...
she has my toes, his ears, etc... still trying to decide where she got the butt cheek dimples.
She stayed with me almost the eintire time, except for a brief 30-60 minutes while I showered &
got cleaned up.
I had my camera and had the nurse take some pictures & had in mind what I wanted (the cord
being cut, gunky covered baby etc...)
She layed on my chest and we 'napped' together (our eyes were closed & people left because
they thought we were asleep).
We discussed her grammy in heaven & how she was going to take care of her until I got there.
I got footprints and a lock of hair for myself and her daddy (even though he was not there).
I sent her to heaven with pictures of her siblings, her dad & I and flags of her heritage.
*********
I did NOT give her her bath and I truly wish that I had.
I did not get her hand prints which I really wish I had done.
I wish that I had called her daddy when it was confirmed that she was going to be stillborn &
left that choice up to him completely. I needed him there for her birth though, not just
whenever he could get there. But I could have had him call before he was leaving & if it was to
late then not have him come. But God, I needed him. WE needed a picture of the 3 of us.
I wish that I had a better picture of her and I where both of our faces are showing & there may
be one in the keepsake boxes for her daddy & I that the nurse sent me that I've not been able
to open yet.
I changed her clean diaper... twice.
I changed her clothes.
I talked to her and read to her and sang to her.
I stripped her completely naked and looked her over head to toe to see what looked like who...
she has my toes, his ears, etc... still trying to decide where she got the butt cheek dimples.
She stayed with me almost the eintire time, except for a brief 30-60 minutes while I showered &
got cleaned up.
I had my camera and had the nurse take some pictures & had in mind what I wanted (the cord
being cut, gunky covered baby etc...)
She layed on my chest and we 'napped' together (our eyes were closed & people left because
they thought we were asleep).
We discussed her grammy in heaven & how she was going to take care of her until I got there.
I got footprints and a lock of hair for myself and her daddy (even though he was not there).
I sent her to heaven with pictures of her siblings, her dad & I and flags of her heritage.
*********
I did NOT give her her bath and I truly wish that I had.
I did not get her hand prints which I really wish I had done.
I wish that I had called her daddy when it was confirmed that she was going to be stillborn &
left that choice up to him completely. I needed him there for her birth though, not just
whenever he could get there. But I could have had him call before he was leaving & if it was to
late then not have him come. But God, I needed him. WE needed a picture of the 3 of us.
I wish that I had a better picture of her and I where both of our faces are showing & there may
be one in the keepsake boxes for her daddy & I that the nurse sent me that I've not been able
to open yet.
*** A Major Crisis *** 12 weeks since she was born...
I have not been able to do this blog justice as I had hoped. I do hope to be able to return here soon. However when I went to pick up my baby girl's ashes last week they were unable to find them. Yes, in a simple sentence, they have lost my daughter's remains. My heart was already crushed from losing her. I don't know how much more I can take. It is a legal issue and as wonderful as Chris was with all of this last weekend, he has been really awful and unsupportive for the last three days. It's almost as if, when I left his house I took the burden and the need to fight for our daughter with me. Anyway, please understand if this blog isn't updated daily as I had hoped, but please do not leave and give up on it. I feel that there is a lot to be learned here. Perhaps this is a lesson in itself. A very wise friend of mine said that miscarried, stillborn and babies that die from early infant death never have a voice of their own and that maybe this is Jenni's way of being heard. Her way of saying 'hey, I WAS here and I am just like my mama... stubborn and want someone to learn something from my exsistance'... This blog is Jenni's voice.
Today it has been twelve weeks since my beautiful baby angel came into the world still and silent. I look at her pictures and she looks like she is crying in one of them. I do internet searches for poems on grief. I walk around aimlessly with no real thought of direction. Survival is even more than I can phathom at this time. I have times where I DON'T want to survive without Jenny here. The song 'Smallest and Wingless' by Craig Cardiff is beautiful. It says more than any parent of a lost child could.... 'We said hello at the same time we said Goodbye'. The thing for me is where the song says .... "We closed the curtains, Held each other, And cried"... I didn't have this. Chris wasn't there, so there was no one there to hold me and to cry with me. The delivery room door closed and everyone left me there alone to process it. I was there alone. No one to hold me, no one to hold and knowing that I would not be taking our baby girl home. Knowing that her siblings would never know her, that her grandparents would never know here... I had no one, no one but my baby when she was born.
Dear 'daughter', we've been waiting for you
Thrilled beside ourselves that you've arrived
White coats came in, heads held low
Talked for a bit, shuffled outside
We closed the curtains,
Held each other, And cried
We said hello at the same time that we said goodbye.
And smallest wingless, oh you came to us
Leaving as soon as you'd arrived
But sadness is just love wasted
With no heart to place it inside
We closed the curtains,
Held each other, And cried
We said hello at the same time that we said goodbye.
We closed the curtains
Held on to one another And cried
We said hello at the same time that we said goodbye.
By: Craig Cardiff
Today it has been twelve weeks since my beautiful baby angel came into the world still and silent. I look at her pictures and she looks like she is crying in one of them. I do internet searches for poems on grief. I walk around aimlessly with no real thought of direction. Survival is even more than I can phathom at this time. I have times where I DON'T want to survive without Jenny here. The song 'Smallest and Wingless' by Craig Cardiff is beautiful. It says more than any parent of a lost child could.... 'We said hello at the same time we said Goodbye'. The thing for me is where the song says .... "We closed the curtains, Held each other, And cried"... I didn't have this. Chris wasn't there, so there was no one there to hold me and to cry with me. The delivery room door closed and everyone left me there alone to process it. I was there alone. No one to hold me, no one to hold and knowing that I would not be taking our baby girl home. Knowing that her siblings would never know her, that her grandparents would never know here... I had no one, no one but my baby when she was born.
Dear 'daughter', we've been waiting for you
Thrilled beside ourselves that you've arrived
White coats came in, heads held low
Talked for a bit, shuffled outside
We closed the curtains,
Held each other, And cried
We said hello at the same time that we said goodbye.
And smallest wingless, oh you came to us
Leaving as soon as you'd arrived
But sadness is just love wasted
With no heart to place it inside
We closed the curtains,
Held each other, And cried
We said hello at the same time that we said goodbye.
We closed the curtains
Held on to one another And cried
We said hello at the same time that we said goodbye.
By: Craig Cardiff
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
