Physically Remembering

There is one chair we have, the glider in the nursery, that I can physically still remember what it is like to be super pregnant with Sloane. I cry when I remember, but I love it so much to remember that huge belly and those kicks and squirms.

The Sunday night before she was born

I sat in her room today, because the sun was shining, and the windows in her room let the sun in just beautifully. As I sat in this same chair, 5 months later to the day, I could still feel her. I could remember that belly and those kicks, but I could also feel her spirit, and know she is ok. 

Her little friends that will always be waiting for her

I took a picture of me in this same chair today, with no large pregnant belly, to show what a difference 5 months can make, physically, mentally and emotionally. I would give anything to go back and get induced the night of that first picture on September 28, but my naive little brain had no idea what was in store in the next few days.

This is the blanket my mom made for her, which I still like to cuddle up with sometimes. It's a shame for something so beautiful to not have a little babe to be wrapped up in it.  But I am grateful to have a spot in the house I can always count on to go and remember those sweet (although they weren't so sweet at the time) kicks.

Sometimes It Is Too Much

I just read this blog post:
My Baby Died and I Can't Shut Up About It

and one line really stood out to me- "it was too much for me."



My life is so busy. It is a rare occasion when there is an evening that is free and I am at home. Most times, I enjoy this busyness, as I grew up busy, shuttling from one activity to the next. I do well with being busy because I feel useful and productive. In the midst of this busyness, however, I often do not have time to fully feel. I move from one activity to the next, just like I have always done. Sad thoughts may enter my mind, but they do not resonate in my heart, because there is no time to do so, as my mind is on to the next task at hand and that sad thought is no longer there.

In the midst of the busyness, there are certain things that I can deal with in my head. I can see newborn babies, hear of people's pregnancies, and see babies born around the time Sloane was born. I can think of what milestones Sloane would be reaching if she were here still. I can do these things, and it does not resonate in my heart. I may even be able to make a kind comment to these other mothers, if it's a good day.

But in the quiet times, at home, these things catch up to me, and they make their way from my head to my heart. These are the times that my head does not get to be in control anymore, for my heart takes over. My heart still knows that it is hard and that I miss my baby girl. My heart remembers with such clarity the night she was born, holding her, leaving the hospital without her, and burying her sweet little body. My heart knows it has to be guarded most of the time, and that it can't always share in others' joys like it used to.

I am grateful for both my head and my heart, and grateful for the busyness and the quiet. I am grateful to do daily activities as I need to, but also to have time to reflect, process, and give my heart time to grieve.

What No One Should Have To Do

Lately, my thoughts have been on... Sloane. No surprise there! We had a small graveside service for her. That seemed overwhelming enough, I could not handle the thought of trying to plan anything bigger. We had some family and a few close friends attend, one of whom took pictures for us.

We just got the pictures this week, figuring we might be strong enough now to handle looking at them. It was still hard to see them and to remember that day, but I am grateful for the pictures to be able to more fully remember it. While October 1st and 2nd will be burned into my mind forever, the days following are a blur, and these pictures help bring some clarity to one of them.

When I look at these pictures, I am reminded of the strength of my dear husband in those early days. I was physically so so weak, and emotionally broken. We managed through that time together, but he was so determined to do whatever he could for our little girl, to try and make up for the lifetime of other things he would not be able to do for her.

These pictures break my heart, because caskets should not be made that small. People should not go from becoming parents to burying a child at the same time. I don't want to be the mourning mother in black in the cemetery, but yet that is me in these pictures. 

Tomorrow it will be 4 months since that day. I wish there was more we were doing for her every day. I wish there was more to do for her than write about her and remember her. I wish I could share her smiles, her coos, and the cute little outfits she would have had, instead of memories of her funeral. 

They put the stone in last week that so many so generously contributed to. I feel more peace at her grave now that it is in, but like everything else, it came with a mix of emotions. It was hard to see it because it made it that much more final, but it looked a lot nicer and I felt like it was better for her with it in. 

Going there, we are always reminded of the incredible outpouring of love and support that was so freely given to us in those early days, and that enabled us to get the stone in so quickly. So much help from so many people trying to help ease our burden. I learned so much from people who would drop everything, give so much, cry with us, and take time to be with us or pray for us or think of us. That is what makes each day bearable, and that is what I keep holding on to. There is so much good in the world, and there is so much that is even better that is yet to come, esp. being with baby Sloane again one day. So while we may have done what no one should have to do, and we will continue to struggle and learn through this, I have to be grateful for all of the wonderful people in my life, and grateful to have my little girl waiting for me and cheering me on. 

Hope is Too Hard

*Fair warning: this may fall into the category of TMI. You've been warned!*

The past 2 weeks were awful, for many reasons, both physical and emotional. One event that encapsulates both sides of the awful is that I got my period.

This is such a tricky thing- I am ok not being pregnant right now, because I know my body is healing physically and I am getting stronger each and every day. I know my spirit is healing emotionally as I continue to learn to navigate the waters of life without Sloane. I know my relationship is getting stronger as we continue to learn more about each other as we navigate this new space. In my head, I know these things and there is a part of me that is 100% ok, and even happy, to not be pregnant right now. In some ways, it is safe to not be pregnant, because I am not open to the potential heartbreak and devastation that I now know can follow a pregnancy.

But then there is that other part, the part that wants to be pregnant, to have something to hope for and look forward to, the part that believes deep down that maybe life won't suck forever. That there will be another baby, not one who will replace Sloane, but one who can fill the emptiness of our arms, even if they won't be able to entirely fill the emptiness in our hearts. That being pregnant would give me something else to look forward to, even if it was accompanied with fear and anxiety. It would be worth it, because there could be happiness that comes through that.

So even if I don't like to admit it to myself, and my rational side is what wins most days (which I'm grateful for so that I can function), the truth is that deep down, I want to be pregnant again. And I'm not.

Like so many other things anymore, it really is a lose-lose situation. If I tell myself it's ok to not be pregnant, then I am not letting hope into my heart and into my life.  If I let myself feel that it sucks to not be pregnant, I'll be a mess every month. For now, I can't let myself be a mess every month, which means I have to not plan on being pregnant. Hope at all is too hard.

Back to Work

I have been neglecting my blog lately, and you might say, my feelings, since going back to work after Thanksgiving.

Work is a welcome distraction from sitting at home, but it still a distraction from Sloane, and that part I do not like. It seems this has all caught up to me this week!

Work is stressful, between fitting everything into a day that I need to get done, writing quality reports that could hold up in court if need be, and pleasing parents who never seem to be happy, despite our best efforts to do the best thing for their child. My days are filled, but they are not filled with what I wanted them to be filled with.

Time is strange. We are at a point where life feels relatively normal. The holidays are over, and while I envisioned many things in our future with Sloane, the day-to-day tedium of normal life has taken us back again. In some ways, this is a blessing, as we need to make money and I don't think it's physically possible to live with the kind of grief we felt in the early weeks for a long time. But it also sucks because it just means it is farther and farther away from when we held her, when she was alive, and when she was here with us. It is getting harder and harder to remember the weight of her in my arms, and what her kicks and punches felt like in my belly.

On my way home tonight, I stopped at Chick-fil-a to get dinner. I realized I forgot my wallet after I ordered in the drive-thru, but I had my check book. They do not take checks. But the amazing manager said it was no problem, at which point I started bawling. Emotions are raw, eh??

Then I made it home to find a beautiful, lovely note from an old friend I haven't seen or heard from in years. While it added to my tears, these were a mix of sadness, in remembering our sweet Sloane's funeral through her words, and joy, in knowing Sloane's time here has touched someone else. I so appreciate knowing how she has affected people, because that is all we have left right now, is the hope that her influence will continue to reach out and make people love more, love deeper, and appreciate the time they have.

This may seem like a random jumble of thoughts, but it has been therapeutic and has marked this day for me, so I do not apologize :)

Running Away

In support group, someone made a comment about how it doesn't matter where you go or what you do, nothing changes the fact that your child is gone and you miss them and it hurts. It doesn't matter if you stay home for the holidays or visit family or go somewhere new and exotic. They are all relatively crappy because your baby isn't there with you.

I've started running again and I have thought about this as I have run. Running is therapeutic for me. It helps me feel more like me, and I know myself and I know my body when I run. It is something I have some control over and it feels so good right now to have control over something. I know for some women after losing a baby, it is hard to see their body change back to its normal size, and that was so true for me at first, but I love being able to feel physically strong again and stand in amazement every day at what my body is capable of. There is something about seeing my body look normal and strong while my spirit feels broken that I enjoy. 

Alas, I digress. I am so happy to be running again. It is so good for me. But I know that however far I can run, I can never run away from this. There is no hiding or escaping. And sometimes I just wish I could go back to the innocence I enjoyed before Sloane. But because I can't, I will keep running and try to find myself and peace in that.

Helping

There is so much good that has come out of our experience with Sloane. As Josh has told me, sometimes a tree must fall so that the others can have more light. We have definitely had an increase in light since our Sloane died. People have been so wonderful to us, and I want to record some of the things that have been the most helpful. While I recognize every person's experience and feelings and reactions and personalities are different, at least I can offer one insider's perspective on what has helped. Maybe this can help me help someone else in the future, or help someone else help someone else.

• Be there. The first 2 weeks, we did not want anyone to be there emotionally. I wanted to cry in my bed every day and have Josh hold me because he was the only person who could possibly understand what I was feeling. But now, it has been helpful to have people just be there and be willing to talk to about Sloane, but also be able to talk about normal, every day life things, too. We are still people. 
• Ask questions. Sometimes it is hard to know how to bring up Sloane, but just like any proud mama or papa, I want to share my story and my love. If something is too private or personal, I will let you know, so don't worry about bringing something up that is uncomfortable. No one wants to feel sad and isolated, so it helps to talk, and when others aren't afraid to ask questions, it has helped me to talk. 
• Be practical. The first few days after I got home from the hospital, I had friends bring pads, kleenex, stool softener, and cabbage. These were life savers, and things I probably would have dealt with not having, but helped the physical aspect be so much more manageable. People also brought us meals-comfort food took on a whole new meaning. When you are physically taken care of by others, it makes it easier to take care of yourself emotionally. 
• Be proactive-find a need and fill it. I am guilty of asking what I can do, and offering my assistance if needed, but I am not good at being proactively helpful. I think this is a talent that some come by naturally and others have to develop over time. When you are trying to get by day to day emotionally, it is hard to think of how someone else can help you, so it was so helpful when someone would just do something. 
• Reach out. We have been so touched by the people who have thought to send a card, text message, email, or Facebook message. It is such a small thing, but it means so much to know others are thinking of you, even if we are not very close of friends. 
• Remembrances. Because remembering Sloane and making her a part of our life is so important to us, we wanted to surround ourselves with physical reminders of her. The donations people gave helped us do this, and I had sweet friends get me necklaces to help me remember her.

As people have helped, they have often downplayed their service to us, saying it's nothing compared to what we have lost and gone through...but to us, these seemingly small acts of service have been our everything. When our everything was taken, these "small" acts became all we had, and I will be ever grateful for all of those who watched over us, loved us, and cared for us during the worst time. 

There are still days, hours, and minutes that everything seems wrong and nothing seems right.. times that missing Sloane is all-consuming. But it is good to think of blessings received, even if it not the blessing we would have chosen or that we want.