I'm still thankful, but damn this is hard...

My family must think I'm a real bitch...I often wonder why they don't smack the crap out of me and tell me to suck it up.  Our Thanksgiving usually takes place the weekend after Turkey Day, simply because it works better for all of us.  Saturday was with the in-law side.  I spent most of the day gearing myself up for my 2 year old nephew and having to be around my pregnant sister-in-law.  I did ok, for a good part of the day.  Then it just got harder and harder.  It took all my strength not to cry...I cried the whole way home (we live an hour away from where we had dinner).  I cried myself to sleep. 

Saturday also would have been her 3 month birthday.  Why doesn't all the shit have to be on the same day.  It just made Thanksgiving even harder.  This was what I posted on Facebook:  "Some say you're too painful to remember, I say you're too precious to forget...its been 3 months today since we said goodbye. I'm so thankful to have known you at all, and so glad I can reflect on the memories more often with a smile than with tears. Missing you always, little one."  It pretty much sums it up...except I cried more tears that day than I have in a long time.

Sunday was with my family.  Thankfully all my nieces and nephews (4 of them) are older, the youngest being 6.  So I didn't have to worry about being with little ones.  Or so I thought.  My completely insensitive 20 year old cousin decided to bring his female friend who has an 11 month old little boy.  Pretty much blindsided me.  I had really hoped to have a baby free day.  Didn't happen. 

I will never understand why she was taken away from me.  It just isn't fair.  No one has ever wanted to be a mom more than me.  Well, I know that's not true...but in my mind it seems so true.  There are other momma's out there, momma's without a baby to hold.  I really am thankful for the time I had with Addie, but I would do anything to have here back here with me.

Missing my heart, but still thankful...

Dear Addie,
   Today should have been your first Thanksgiving.  Trust me when I say you were missed by everyone...especially me.  I wanted you for so long.  I'm still thankful though for the time I had with you.  Those 39 weeks were the best of my life.  I just wish I had more time with you.  But, I'm still thankful. 
   I'm also thankful for your father.  He is the reason I able to live without you.  He is so supportive and loving.  I wish you were here to see it for yourself.  And to meet the rest of your family.  Everyone is wonderful.  You are so loved...I hope you can feel it, wherever you are. 
    Happy Thanksgiving, butterfly.  Missing you always.
Love, Mommy

And life goes on....

Yesterday wasn't as bad as I thought.  Yeah it was rough, but I knew it would be.  Turning 31 isn't so bad when you have a wonderful husband and great family and friends.  My FaceBook page was filled with birthday wishes, and I had a beautiful dinner waiting on me when I got home from work, courtesy of my wonderful husband.  Yesterday truly marks a new chapter in my life. Not only did I turn 31, but I also left my job after 6 years.  I will start fresh on Monday.  My life has been full of changes lately.  Most are good I think.  I guess losing my little girl has made me rethink my life.  Its time for me to slow down, to shake things up, to be what I am truly meant to be.  Or at least try to.  I know things happen for a reason and this new job is a brand new opportunity for me.  A wonderful, unique opportunity for me to be normal, to work a normal schedule, to be less stressed out. Most importantly, to just enjoy my life.  Its going to be hard to enjoy life without my daughter, but I know she's out there somewhere, watching over us and that helps.  I hope she is happy.  I hope she knows that she is loved and, although we may have other children, she will always be our first born.  Change is good.  I honestly believe that...I just hope its true.

Can I just skip tomorrow?

So here I sit, the evening before my 31st birthday and I just wish I could go to sleep tonight and not wake up until Saturday morning.  I always wanted to have my first kid by the time I was 30.  I guess, technically, I did.  Yes, I am proud to be a momma of an angel, but its so hard to face turning 31 without my chubby little girl squealing in my arms.  I just want to forget that its my birthday.  And I want everyone else to forget it too, but I know that won't happen.

I think what makes it worse is that Addie would be 12 weeks old tomorrow.  Yet another milestone she won't reach.  That just hurts.  We waited so long for her, only to get so close and not be able to take her home.  Its just not right.  So much crap is going through my head right now, I just can't think.  I just want to forget my birthday.  It doesn't matter anyway.

What I am thankful for....

So, a blog I read quite often (Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope) has started having monthly writing challenges and the one for this month kind of plucked at a heart string.  Through all the tragedy I've been through, Iam surprised that I am able to find things I am thankful for.  What I am thankful for though are often things I have taken for granted.  So here, I will write what I am truly thankful for this year.

November’s topic: It’s easy to focus on all the negative things that come from losing a baby, but have you discovered any ‘blessings in disguise’ throughout your journey? What can you find to be thankful for related to your loss?

First of all, I am thankful for my husband, Patrick.  I know many baby loss momma's say this, but I am truly grateful to have him in my life.  Yes, the loss of our daughter was devastating for both of us, but if not for him, I don't think I could continue living.  He is my reason for living.  He has stood by my side without question, letting me cry on his broad shoulders, get pissed off at him for no reason, he has taken it all.  There was even a day that he came home just to be with me and support me.  It was actually my second day back to work and I had to leave because I was crying uncontrollably. I couldn't function.  All I wanted to do was bury myself in my pillow and cry.  He arrived home shortly after I did and held me in his arms until I cried myself to sleep.  It seems losing our daughter has brought us closer, made us appreciate each other more.  I love my husband more than I could ever express with simple words; I owe him everything.  I am so very grateful he is in my life.

Secondly, I am thankful for my family and friends.  They have been so supportive through everything.  From bringing us dinner, to visits, to phone calls.  And they left us alone when they knew we needed it.  Everyone has been wonderful, but especially my mother.  She has been my sounding board.  Infant loss is yet another thing we share.  She lost her oldest child after he was born prematurely.  My mom has been the one person I can go to when I don't know what else to do.  She has been able to answer my questions and give me advice on how to deal with losing Addie.  I don't know what I would have done without her.  I am so very grateful to have such a wonderful mother.

Last, but certainly not least, I am thankful for my daughter.  Even though I miss her terribly, I've learned to appreciate the time I had with her.  It has taken me a long time to smile at those memories of my pregnancy, but I'm so glad I can.  I was starting to see a bit of her personality. She loved to push her little butt out, and I used to think she was going to be such a show off.  The constant hiccups.  The dancing on my bladder.  God, I miss her so much!  I wishes were money, I'd be rich right now.  But, I'm so thankful that I can look back and remember these with a smile instead of tears.  I'm so glad I had 39 weeks with her.  I know I will never forget how it felt to be pregnant with her.  And, most of all, I will never forget how I felt the first time I held her.  Even though she was already gone, it was the best feeling in the world to finally hold her.  Of course, it was immediately followed by the worst.  Still, there's no way I would've given up the chance to hold my daughter.  I am so very grateful for the the time I had with my beautiful daughter, she has given me memories to last a lifetime.

This holiday season isn't going to be an easy one for me, but I know that I have things to be thankful for.

Why do I do this to myself?

I love my family, I really do.  But sometimes, its just so hard to be around them.  I always feel like I'm being such a bitch, but I'm afraid if I open my mouth I'm just gonna cry. 

My husband and I went to his sister's house in Richmond yesterday.  She has a 2 year old and is due with their second son in early March.  I actually found out she was pg 2 days after coming home from the hospital without my newborn daughter.  She didn't want to tell us, but she didn't want to hide it either.  It hurt...almost as much as knowing my daughter had died.  I thought I was okay with it now.  I thought I was okay being around kids to.  I mean, I've held infants, been around other pregnant people since we lost her, so why did being around her yesterday bother me?  I don't like the jealous feeling...its not me.  But it wouldn't go away yesterday.  Its was only surpassed by the severe heartache I felt everytime I looked at her baby bump.  I am truly happy for them, I know how much they went through with their first son (he was born with a heart defect and has had open heart surgery, and will probably have to have another one soon) and I know this new little boy is a miracle.  So why am I jealous?  I just don't get it. 

And, then, today was the baptism of the daughter of one of my good friends.  We were named her godparents.  I was fine through most of the service, including holding her.  Then I'm fighting tears when they start singing "I Was There to Hear Your Borning Cry."  I started thinking about how I didn't hear her cry, how she didn't even get a chance to take a breath.  What the hell is wrong with me?  I should be proud, happy to be a Godmother again.  Well, I am.  But still, why can't I control my emotions?  This honestly is not how I wanted to be.  Am I always going to be in the edge of tears?  How the hell am I supposed to function if every stupid little thing sets me off?

Missing my baby girl so much!

What I wish people knew...

So, I was cleaning out my favorites on my laptop and found this hidden way at the bottom.  I had forgotten I bookmarked it.  I found it very appropriate, especially after I returned to work.  People avoided me simply because they didn't know what to say.  Maybe this would have helped them...

"What we wish you knew about pregnancy loss:

A letter from women to their friends and family by Elizabeth Soutter Schwarzer

I assert no copyright for this material.  Please us it as you see fit to help women who have endured this terrible grief.  Thank you.

Date: Sat, 23 March 2002

When women experience the loss of a child, one of the first things they discover they have in common is a list of things they wish no one had ever said to them.  The lists tend to be remarkably similar.  The comments are rarely malicious-just misguided attempts to soothe.

This list was compile as a way of helping other people understand pregnancy loss.  While generated by mothers for mothers, it may also apply similarly to the fathers who have endured this loss.  When trying to help a woman who has lost a baby, the best rule of thumb is a matter of manners:  don't offer your personal opinion of her life, her choices, her prospects for children.  No woman is looking to poll her acquaintances for their opinions on why it happened or how she should cope.

-Don't say, "It's God's Will."  Even if we are members of the same congregation, unless you are a cleric and I am seeking your spiritual counseling, please don't presume to tell me what God wants for me.  Besides, many terrible things are God's Will, that doesn't make them any less terrible.

-Don't say, "It was for the best-there was probably something wrong with your baby."  The fact that something was wrong with the baby is what is making me so sad.  My poor baby never had a chance. Please don't try to comfort me by pointing that out.

-Don't say, "You can always have another one."  This baby was never disposable.  If I had been given the choice between loosing this child or stabbing my eye out with a fork, I would've said 'Wher's the fork?'  I would have died for this baby, just as you would die for your children.

-Don't say, "Be grateful for the children you have."  If your mother died in a terrible wreck and you grieved, would that make you less grateful to have your father?

-Don't say, "Thank God you lost the baby before you really loved it."  I loved my son or daughter.  Whether I lost the baby after two weeks or just after birth, I loved him or her.

-Don't say, "Isn't it time you got over this and moved on?"  It's not something I enjoy, being grief-stricken.  I wish it had never happened.  But it did and its part of me forever.  The grief will ease on its own timeline, not mine-or yours.

-Don't say, "I understand how you feel."  Unless you've lost a child, you really don't understand how I feel.  And, even if you have lost a child, everyone experiences grief differently.

-Don't tell me stories of your neighbor or cousin who had it worse.  The last thing I need to hear right now is that it is possible to have this happen six times, or that I could carry until 2 days before my due date and labor for 20 hours for a dead baby.  These stories frighten and horrify me and leave me up at night weeping in despair.  Even if they have a happy ending, do not share these stories with me.

-Don't pretend it didn't happen and don't change the subject when I bring it up.  If I say "Before the baby died..." or "when I was pregnant..." don't get scared.  If I'm talking about it, it means I want to.  Let me.  Pretending it didn't happen will only make me feel utterly alone.

-Don't say, "It's not your fault."  It may not have been my fault, but it was my responsibility and I failed.  The fact that I never stood a chance of succeeding only makes me feel worse.  This tiny little being depended on me to bring him safely into the world and I couldn't do it.  I was supposed to care for him for a lifetime, but I couldn't even give hm a childhood.  I am so angry at my body, you just can't imagine.

-DO say, "I am so sorry."  That's enough.  You don't need to be eloquent.  Say it and mean it and it will matter

-DO say, "You're going to be wonderful parents some day," or "You're wonderful parents and that baby was lucky to have you."  We both need to hear that.

-DO say, "I lit a candle today for your baby," or "I said a prayer today for your baby."

-DO send flowers or a kind note.  Every one I receive makes me feel as though my baby was loved.  Don't resent it if I don't respond.

-Don't call more than once and don't be angry if the machine is one and I don't return your call.  If we're close friends and I am not responding to your attempts to help me, please don't resent that, either.  Help me by not needing anything from me for a while.

If you're my boss or co-worker:

-Do recognize I have suffered a death in my family--not a medical condition.

-Do recognize that in addition to the physical effects I may experience, I'm going to be grieving for quite some time.  Please treat me as you would any person who has endured the tragic death of a loved one-I need time and space.

-DO understand if I do not attend baby showers/christening/birthday parties, etc.  And DON'T ask why I can't come.

-Please don't bring your baby or toddler into the workplace.  If your niece is pregnant, or your daughter just had a baby, please don't share that with me right now.  Its not that I can't be happy for anyone else, it's that every smiling, cooing baby, every glowing new mother makes me ache so deep in my heart I can barely stand it.  I may look okay to you but there's a good chance I'm still crying every day.  It may be weeks before I go a whole hour without thinking about it.  You'll know when I'm ready.  I'll be the one to say, "Did your daughter have her baby?" or, "How is that precious little boy of yours?  I haven't seen him around the office in a while."

-Above all, please remember this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.  The words miscarriage or still birth are small and easy.  But my baby's death is monolithic and awful.  It's going to take me a while to figure out how to live with it.  Bear with me please."



Addie's Story...I want the whole world to know your story. Loving you always, little one.

                Our story really begins several years ago.  My (then) boyfriend and I had been together for 3 years when I was involved in a head-on collision with a tractor trailer.  Even today, I thank my lucky stars to have only sustained orthopedic injuries.  Yes, they were painful, even permanently disabling, but it could’ve been so much worse; after all, I’m still alive.  It was during the many months of recovery that followed that I had my “epiphany.”  Patrick stood by my side, unfailing in his loyalty, through it all.  He was there to help me when I couldn’t help myself; he was there for me when I needed him the most.  Prior to this point in our lives, I knew I loved him, but it wasn’t until I saw the sacrifices he made for me that I realized just how much I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.  Exactly one year after the accident, on June 3, 2006, I proudly walked down the aisle to marry my best friend.

                Now, fast forward a few years.  It was early January 2010 when I began to wonder.  I hadn’t been feeling right since Christmas and thought I might be coming down with something.  But then I realized I was a few days late.  Believing I had miscalculated, I waited a few more days before finally decided to buy a home pregnancy test.  Tears of joy streamed down my face when I saw the word “pregnant” in the window.  I was undeniably happy and scared at the same time.  I wanted so badly to call my husband and yell “I’m pregnant!” into the phone, but decided against it.  I wanted to see his expression when I told him he was going to be a daddy, so I chose to wait until he got home from work.  In the mean time, simply because I couldn’t hold it in any longer, I emailed one of my best friends.  I don’t think I actually said the exact words, but she knew anyway.  Finally someone knew my secret (keep in mind that all this has taken place in less than 30 minutes of getting the results)!  What a relief!  Now, what was I supposed to do for the next five hours?  By the time Patrick got home, I had cleaned every inch of our house, all 3000+ square feet of it.  But, I still didn’t tell him…I couldn’t find the right way to say it.  Instead I tell him I have something for him and ask him if he wants it now.  When he says yes, I hand him the test.  His expression was priceless; his face was completely blank and then he flashed me a huge grin…even his eyes smiled.  He was happy; he was going to be a dad.

                Everything went as planned from the get go.  We had our first ultrasound at 10 weeks to confirm the age of the pregnancy.  Everything looked great, right on schedule.  The only hiccup we experienced that early on was being told I had the “little c” antibody in my blood.  This particular antibody, I would later learn, was most likely introduced when I had a blood transfusion after the accident.  However, after testing my husband’s blood, the doctor told us we had nothing to worry about.  Shortly before our planned “babymoon”, we went to our anatomy ultrasound.  At this point, I was exactly halfway through my pregnancy and felt great!  It had been pretty easy so far, thankfully.  It wasn’t surprising that the baby didn’t want to cooperate.  He or she was already very active.  But, after finally getting the required measurements and pictures, the baby decided it was time to give us the money shot…we were having a girl.  It was during our trip we decided to name her Addison Breann or Addie for short.  We started to decide on colors and decorations for the nursery, and making lists of gear and other essentials, everything new parents do.  We were so excited, so ready to meet her.

                As time passed, I looked at her ultrasound pictures often, imagining what she would look like.  Did she have my nose?  Her daddy’s one dimple?  His long fingers and toes?  Oh, I couldn’t wait!  It was driving me nuts!  My wish was granted, in a way, when we chose to have a 4D ultrasound.  I was 31 weeks pregnant and Addie was as active as ever.  It took the tech a long time to get a good picture because she was squirming around so much.  But, finally, there was her beautiful face on the screen.  Addie had my nose and chubby cheeks; she had her daddy’s lips and chin.  She was gorgeous!  So perfect.  She even had her hand curled under her chin, almost as if she was pondering something.  Now I REALLY couldn’t wait to meet her!  These last few weeks couldn’t go by fast enough!

                But, instead they crawled by.  I was getting very antsy.  Not only was I ready to meet her, but I was also just plain miserable.  The DC metro area was experiencing the hottest summer on record and here I was 8 ½ months pregnant.  I lived in the air conditioning.  And, when I wasn’t indoors, I was in some sort of water, be it a pool, lake or river.  My husband and I were patiently waiting for Addie to make her arrival (well, I was TRYING to be patient).  We had finished buying all the gear and clothing we thought we would need, took a child birth education class, and cleaned the house top to bottom.  We were ready.  My weekly doctor appointments had become routine.  Every week I waited eagerly to hear her fluttering heart and was happy when the doctor would say that everything was right on schedule and looking good.  On August 20, 2010, I went to what would be my last prenatal appointment.  I waited anxiously for the nurse practitioner to find Addie’s heartbeat.  Lately, she had slowed down quite a bit, not moving or kicking as much.  I mentioned this to the NP, who, in turn, asked if I was still getting good results for my kick counts, which I was.  With the sound of her racing heartbeat (mingled with my sigh of relief) in the background the NP said it was normal for babies to slow down.  After all, at almost 39 weeks, she was running out of room.

                The weekend went by quickly, as did Monday and Tuesday.  Between working and doing last minute stuff to prepare for her arrival, I didn’t have a lot of time to stop, despite my lack of energy.  Every once in a while I’d feel a nudge or squirm, usually combined with a contraction.  I knew it was getting close.  The last thing I remember before falling asleep Tuesday night was feeling Addie move just slightly.  The morning of August 25, 2010 began as usual.  I got up and showered, hoping to wake myself up.  Nights weren’t very restful for me anymore, but I knew I had to get used to it.  Since I was off, I had plans to give the house one last good scrub, if I had the energy.  I was cleaning up after breakfast when I realized I hadn’t felt Addie move yet.  She wasn’t normally active until mid afternoon, but I usually felt her move a few times, especially right after I ate.  I waited an hour, hoping for something; jiggling my belly, poking and prodding her little bum trying to get her to move.  Still, she wouldn’t budge.  I was 9am when I got through to my doctor’s office.  I explained to the nurse practitioner what was going on and answered all of her questions.  She then told me she would call me right back after she spoke with my doctor.  So, in the mean time, I call my husband.  I’m trying not to freak out but I can’t help it.  He tells me he is on his way back to his office and then will come home.  I tell him I’m still waiting for instructions from the doctor and he says he’s coming home anyway and to text him with the info when I get it.  10 long minutes pass before the phone rings again.  It’s the nurse practitioner and she tells me to go straight to Labor and Delivery at the hospital.  Through my tears I send a text message to Patrick and walk out the door.  On the way to the hospital, my mom calls to say she’ll meet me there but she’s still 25 minutes out.  Patrick had called her and asked her to meet me since he was still 45 minutes from home.  Alone, I walked into Labor and Delivery, more scared than I have ever been in my life.  The nurse took my ID and insurance, weighed me and asked for a urine sample.  After I was done, I was taken to a bed behind the nurse’s station and started to hook me up to monitors.  The nurse was just beginning to look for a heartbeat when I was told that both my mom and husband had arrived.  Patrick was brought back to where I was.  They had found a heartbeat but weren’t sure if it was mine or Addie’s.  So, they decided to do an ultrasound.  The nurses led us to a different room and called the on duty doctor from my practice.  In the meantime the charge nurse was starting the ultrasound.  She wouldn’t let us see the screen.  After what seemed like forever she said “Let’s wait for the doctor.”  I begged her to tell me; pleaded with her not to make us wait.  Finally, quietly, she said, “I don’t see a heartbeat.”  Time just stopped.  I sobbed.  Patrick sobbed.  We held on to each other so tightly I couldn’t breathe (or was it just the pain that made it hard to breathe?).  We waited for the doctor.  The doctor slipped into the room, asked me to lie down and squeezed more jelly on my stomach.  He studied the screen for a long time.  He confirmed our worst fears, using words I will never forget, “I see no cardiac activity,” and turns the machine off.  My mom is brought in as the medical staff leaves.  We can barely speak those terrible words.  The charge nurse returns a few minutes (hours?) later to late us know the doctor wants to speak with us again.  After expressing his condolences, he starts saying things like fetal demise, unknown causes, induction, drawing blood, pathology tests.  I really can’t focus.  The doctor leaves again to give us some time to make a decision (what decision?).  Patrick then tells me that we have a choice; we can start the induction today, right now, or we can come back in the morning.  Regardless of what we chose, the doctor had already ordered a battery of tests in hopes of finding out what happened.  After deciding to go home and return in the morning, we were led to a private room in the Mother-Baby wing of the maternity ward to await the lab tech.  I don’t remember much about being in that room.  Someone handed me some papers and gave us instructions for the next day.  I barely remember the lab tech coming in for the blood draw but was told later that she filled about 15 vials.  The next thing I clearly remember is being in my driveway and nearly hitting my father in law as I opened my car door.  We spent the rest of the day surrounded by our family, grieving the loss of a little girl we never got the chance to meet.  That night I cried myself to sleep in the arms of my husband, knowing I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to my daughter.

                Addison Breann arrived in this world silently, never a chance to raise her voice.  She was born shortly before midnight on August 27, 2010.  After 30+ hours of labor and 2 ½ hours of pushing with no progress, I reluctantly agreed to a c-section.  I was exhausted, both mentally and physically.  Addie was a big girl, measuring 11 pounds and 22 inches long (her weight, we later found out, was partially due to fluid that had built up in her little body).  She was beautiful, though, looked exactly like the 4D sonogram pictures we had of her.  I never wanted to let her go.

                I consider us lucky to know why she died; I know a lot of parents never find out unless the cause of death is blatantly obvious, like a cord accident.  Although the autopsy and pathology reports aren’t conclusive, the doctors are 99% sure her death was caused by two factors:  antibody isoimmunization (similar to Rh disease) and CVM.  The day after we received these results, we held her memorial service in our backyard.  On September 25, 2010, surrounded by family and friends, we said goodbye to our daughter, our first born, our little butterfly.

                It has taken me a long time to be able to sit down and write Addie’s story.  I’ve realized that, although I wish I could go back and change the outcome, I don’t regret any part of my experience.  I wouldn’t trade the time I had with my daughter for any amount of money in the world.  I will always cherish the memories I have, like the first time I felt her move or how her daddy used to call her his little MMA champ when she would kick the crap out of me.  I miss my daughter.  Thankfully, though, future pregnancies aren’t out of the question.  My doctor says we should try again, that what caused Addie’s death is treatable.  Now we know what to look for.  My husband and I have discussed it at length.  We know we’re not ready to give up yet.  We want to be parents no matter what it takes.  We know the risks, we know this could happen again, but we just aren’t ready to quit.  This isn’t the first time our strength and relationship has been tested and it probably won’t be the last.  In tragedy, we have grown closer.  If we can survive this, I know in my heart we can survive anything together.

                I never thought I would be the mother of a stillborn child, but here I am.  And you know what?  As much as I miss my Addie, I’m proud to say it; proud to call myself her mom.

How am I going to survive the holidays?

I've been asking myself this question for a few weeks now.  It was really brought to light yesterday when my husband was asking me if the Saturday after Thanksgiving worked for us getting together with his side of the family would work for me.  Technically, I have no idea because I'm supposed to be starting a new job earlier that week and I don't know yet what my schedule will be.  But I found myself saying, "Is it that important for me to be there?"  I think I pissed him off because he gave me this look and says "Yes, it is, because I want you there."  He's already pissed about the fact I want to skip my birthday.  But is it really the schedule I'm using as an excuse?  I get the feeling its not.  I REALLY don't want to celebrate the holidays.  I'm glad we're only hosting one get together this year.  Thats only because we have the biggest house on my side of the family.  But, it just so happens we're hosting Christmas Eve.  I don't think I'm ready for this.  I was so looking forward to buying "Baby's First Christmas" ornaments and ordering her stocking.  WTH.  I can't do it now.  Its not fair that I have to spend my first holiday season as a mom but without my baby girl.  I know women in the past have done it, I just wish they would tell me how.  Send me the pamphlet, because lord knows I'm gonna need it.  Missing you baby girl! 

Oh how true!

"I have been through a lot and have suffered a great deal. But I have had lots of happy moments, as well . . .The good, the bad, the hardship, the joy, the tragedy, love, and happiness, are all interwoven into one single indescribable whole that is called life. You cannot separate the good from the bad. And perhaps there is no need to do so, either." -Jackie Kennedy.

So, this quote was posted on Facebook by an organization for baby loss mommas (Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope).  I couldn't help but identify with this.  My life has been shaped by the good and the bad.  I honestly see no reason to separate the two.  I wouldn't be who I am today if not for the lessons I've learned throughout my life. Sure, I would change the past if I could, but would I be the same person I am right now?  Probably not.  I like who I am, I don't want to change that.  Yes, I wish the heartache would go away, oh how I wish!  But, there are some benefits I wouldn't change.  I feel closer that ever to my husband and family because of our loss.  I know its a cliche, but I do feel stronger.  Everything I have gone through in my life, the deaths, the illnesses, the challenges, have all made me stronger and I wouldn't trade that for anything in the world!  Except to have my daughter back in my arms...I really would do anything to have her back.

Insensitive People

You know, I understand how some people may not know or even forget about what happened to my daughter.  But my own family?  I had a family member ask me recently if I was ready for Halloween and the holidays...HELL NO I'm not ready for the holidays.  Who wants to spend the holidays without your child?!  I certainly don't.  If I could, I would completely skip the holidays this year.  My mom had already purchased Addie's "My First Christmas" outfit, plus a friend of mine had given me the cutest little fur trimmed red dress.  For Halloween, we wanted to dress her as a ladybug.  But, instead I'm writing this stupid post on my blog. Its just not right.  How can anyone think I'm ready to face the holidays?