snow days

Virginia, I miss you.

I think you would have loved the snow.  I tend to assume you would have loved everything.  But I think you would have loved sledding and snow men.  I think you would have loved running in the snow with the pups.  I think you would have laughed, and really loved it.

I wish that was our life.

I wish that experience had not been taken from you.

I have enjoyed the snow of this winter.  But it, like everything, is just not the same without you.

2nd birthday

Today, it is Virginia's 2nd birthday.
I want to be throwing a birthday party, and celebrating her, and watching her laugh.
And that is not what I am doing.

I am sitting in my house, wearing a huge coat, waiting for John to get up so we can find a way to distract ourselves.

But, we will still be celebrating her.
Not in the way I want, but we will be.
Today, there is no other moment that matters.
There is nothing that matters except she is.
She lived, she died, she is.
She is my daughter, she is the love of my life, and she is going to be celebrated today.

I gave birth two years ago to the most beautiful little girl on the planet.
Virginia Jane, and today is for her.
And I don't care who likes it or doesn't.

Today belongs to her.
Every second of it.
Belongs to her.

I was told once that when a young elephant dies the mother will stay with her child.  She will stay without eating and without sleeping, she stays with her baby -- for days.

It has been two years, and I have not left her.  I never will.  And I will never hide her, and I will never keep her a secret.  She is my child, and I am staying with her.

Virginia Jane Phillips today is for you.  And I will spend it with you, and for you.

day three: before

This is the "before" picture I would most like to talk about.

Just look at how happy she is.

This is my favorite pregnancy picture.  It's probably my favorite picture, ever, of me.  I was so ready to meet her.  She was so big!

This is one of those pictures that makes me wonder how there are women who just don't know they're pregnant.  Ohmygoodness I knew it.  And I honestly loved every minute of it, I had such a simple pregnancy.  I only got impatient at the end because I wanted her to come before John left.  That was foolish, I should never have been impatient.  But I did love every second with her.

Today, a man came into our office to fill out an application.  He was falling asleep while filling it out.  He said he was up all night with his 6 week old baby.  But he didn't say it in a cute, "I'm a new dad" way.  He said it in a complaining way.

So sorry man that you have to hear the sound of your child's voice when they need you.  So sorry you were up all night taking care of your baby, so sorry you have to hold them and be with them instead of sleeping.

Ridiculous.

Now, I imagine that having a newborn at home is very difficult and very stressful and you lose a lot of sleep.  But I promise you, there is not a thing I wouldn't give....THERE IS NOT A THING I WOULDN'T GIVE....to be up all night with my screaming child.

He asked me if I had kids, and I ignored him, because I don't say no to that and he is not the person I want to talk about it with.  I suppose he took that to mean yes because when he left he asked if it gets easier.  And there are a million things I wanted to say.  But I was at work.  So I told him yes, and he walked out.

Please be thankful for the good easy times and the hard times with your kids, because you don't know how much time you have.

On a brighter note: WE EXCEEDED OUR FUNDRAISING GOAL!  All thanks to the amazing women I work with and their collective donations.  We are still fundraising until the 18th, please feel free to help us raise more.

day two: heart

I captured a few almost hearts today.

And this heart is a particularly important one.  I have written to Virginia regularly since her death.  This heart is the first time I signed a letter to her like this. 

day one: sunrise

Today is the 1st day of October.

It is also day one of "capture your grief'" which you can find information about here.

I shared a picture on facebook and instagram, but there are more I took, and I'm going to share them here.

day one: sunrise

I love when there is pink in the sky.  I just know her little spirit is a beautiful magenta.  Sunrises and sunsets with pink are my absolute favorite time of day, especially sunsets.

May this October bring a little peace to everyone.  I don't expect it to be an easy month, but I will live it one day at a time. 

oh october.

I am not ready for October.

October is the month she died.
October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month (which is actually amazing)
October holds Halloween, which would have been her first holiday.

I don't want it to come.

One year ago today I was super pregnant, and waiting for her.

I just, am not ready for October.

But, maybe/possibly/probably tomorrow will come.  And October will be here.  I just want to go back to one year ago today and try again.  I want to go to a different hospital.  I want to get it right the 2nd time and make sure she lives.  I want to be scared and excited my little girl is about to turn 1.  I want to say "I can't believe my baby is growing so fast!"  I want another chance.  Not with another child.  With Virginia.

I don't think it's possible I can go back, even if I would give everything to do it.

I'm going to share something Carly Marie wrote, because she's amazing and I should remember to be more gentle with myself and with life.  I really should, I am quite bitter.

Everyday for the next month is all about remembrance of every little girl and every little boy who died before they were born, or died shortly after.

My love to all those children, and all their parents.

Here is Carly's post: October 2014, Let us remember

I stand watching her until she fades on the horizon

"I am standing on the seashore. A ship spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the ocean. I stand watching her until she fades on the horizon, and someone at my side says, 'She is gone.' Gone where? The loss of sight is in me, not in her. Just at the moment when someone says, 'She is gone', there are others who are watching her coming. Other voices take up the glad shout, 'Here she comes!'  And that is dying." 
-Henry Scott Holland



I am stunned by how beautiful this is.
I just needed to share it.

for a first birthday.

This month, it is 11 months since her death.  And 11 months since her birth.

Next month, the 22nd will be her first birthday.

And it will not be the first birthday most parents plan.

So what will we do?  It cannot go unnoticed, it is too important a day.  Because yes, it is the day we were changed forever by her death.  But regardless it is her birthday, and a birthday is about celebrating life.

So, what will we do?

On that day, I really don't know.  Probably hike, as we did on Mother's Day.  Get out and remember the world is bigger than just us, and be distracted for a while.

We SHOULD be planning a party.  We should be choosing a theme and what decorations we need and who will bake the cake cause God knows I can't decorate one well enough.  We should be buying her more presents than she could ever play with.  We should be readying the camera to capture that beautiful face, one year old.

What would the theme be?  It's hard to even imagine.  I have no idea what color she would like.  What cartoon would be her favorite.  What she would want.  I should know, she should be here.  But I don't know.

So what is there to celebrate her life besides a party?

Before she died, I didn't think much about stillbirth.  I didn't think ever about stillbirth.  I knew nothing about it.  I knew nothing about statistics of infant mortality.  I knew nothing about how many children don't make it to their first birthday.

I do now.

Because of her life.  Because of her, I feel for every Mother and Father who face a birthday without their babies.

Before her, I never would have thought of those Mothers and Fathers, and all those children.  But I do now.  Everyday.  I read about them e.v.e.r.y.d.a.y.

And I wish there were no more to read about.  I wish there were no more children who don't reach a first birthday.

If I could start a nonprofit for ANYTHING, it would be stillbirth research.  We know how she died, we know what caused it, we know who caused it.  But in over half of stillbirth's, they don't.  So again, if I could start a nonprofit for ANYTHING, it would be stillbirth research.

I'm not exactly in a place where I can start a nonprofit, and I have no idea how I would get research done, but hopefully somehow some way I can start one.  But whether I do or don't in the future, I don't have one now.

And so, in thinking of all the things my daughter has taught me, and those things are many, I had to think of what the best way to celebrate her life would be.

Support Research.  That's the one.  Support research, so that one more child might live because of HER.

Here's the thing: it is very hard to find research being done.  Not to suggest there is none, because that isn't true, but there is very, very little.  I searched and searched and planned and thought about where to donate in her memory for her birthday.

Because I don't get to plan a party, but her life is still important.

I chose March of Dimes.  I chose it because they fund research, education, and help for babies born prematurely.  I chose them also because they have a walk as a way to fund raise, and I thought it would be something I could get out and do close to her birthday.

I can't buy her presents, and neither can you.  But would you, if she were alive?  If her first birthday party were coming up, would you be coming?

Here is something you should understand, if you know me at all.  Her life is just as important as it would have been if she was having a party.  I can't give her toys, but I can give her a legacy.

I am proud of the money raised for our fundraiser so far, I truly am.  I really thought I could do better, but some money raised is better than no money raised.  I just need to know I have tried to explain what it is for.  I don't expect that I can change the world, but I do believe I can change something.  I do believe that every person that loves her can add to the memory she leaves and the change she makes without even being here.

I hope, that even if you don't make a donation, you understand the point.  You understand it is for her.  Because I love her.

Maybe someday I will have a nonprofit, and something great will come of it.  But I am starting small.  Doing small things with great love.

For every person who has made a donation, thank you so so much.  It honestly means more to me than you know.  And it is not about the amount, it is about the fact that you thought of her.  Thank you, so much.

If you would like to donate, go here to support our team.

Whether you do or do not choose to make a donation, please think of her on October 22nd.  And remember that you never know what kind of battle those around you are fighting.  Spread a little kindness, if you can.

prayer

The past few days have been very, very hard.  The only explanation I have is that on Friday I had to speak with someone and go step by step through each part of while I was in labor with Virginia.  I had to think of a lot of things I haven't thought about in a while.  It affected me a lot more than I thought it would.

So the past few days have been really rough.  I miss her, and I have no idea why this happened.  Why her?

I wrote a few weeks ago about a photography course for healing I started to do.  I did start it, I did take the first pictures, and then I got too busy to continue.  I have been trying to make time for it, but I haven't had a chance to really focus on it.

I haven't been very focused on healing in a while, and that's probably why lately has been so tough.

However, a few days ago I found a quote that I love so so much.  It's from Mother Theresa.

"I used to pray that God would feel the hungry, or do this or that, but now I pray that he will guide me to do whatever I'm supposed to do, what I can do.  I used to pray for answers, but now I'm praying for strength.  I used to believe that prayer changes things, but now I know that prayer changes us and we change things."

I love this.

I don't believe by any means or in any way that praying for something to happen will make it happen.  I do not cannot will not believe that.  How can that be true?  How can you say there is a plan, but then your praying has an effect?  How can you say that to someone who has known tragedy?

When you pray for something to happen, and it happens, you praise God.  What about when it doesn't.  What if you are the mother of a child who was sick, and you watched them be sick and you prayed for their health, but they died?  What do you say to that mother?  Where is the praise for God when he takes a child?  Where is the praise when you don't get what you ask for?

Don't pray to change things you CANNOT control.  Pray to change what things you can.  Pray to change yourself.  That is the only thing prayers are going to do.  They are not going to change who lives and who dies, they are going to live or die no matter which way you want it, because you have no control over it.  Pray for strength, love, patience, compassion, guidance.  Those things you can get.  You don't get the power to change anything but yourself.

I should pray more.  If I wasn't so mad at God, or whatever runs the universe, I probably would.  But in the moments before I was put to sleep I begged God for the life of my child.  And when I woke up she was dead.

I do not cannot will not believe that you can change outside circumstances by praying more or less.  You can only change yourself.

Honestly more prayer and meditation would probably help my healing more than I can imagine.  But like I said I am angry.  I am very angry.  I will get there.  I will get to where I can pray.  I will get to a place of peace.  I have hope for that.

But I still hold to that advice.  You cannot control anything or anyone but you.  God is not going to help you control anything or anyone but you.  Pray to change internally, not externally.

day of hope.

August 19th is being recognized by many families around the world as the "Day of Hope".  A day to remember all babies who have died, and to talk about them.  To celebrate the love and the inspiration their lives have given us.  

You are supposed to create a prayer flag.  I am completely void of crafty-ness.  But I still have a little time, maybe I can get one made.  Either way, I will be lighting Virginia's candle in memory of her, and all of those other perfect children.  

As much as I wish I was kissing her instead of remembering her, I am glad movements like this exist.  I am glad there are people who want to talk about their children, even about their deaths, because that is their story.  I want to talk about Virginia all the time.  A lot of bereaved parents do.  There is no reason we shouldn't.

Much love to all remembering babies that day, and each day. 

Day of Hope Event

a letter as my first assignment.

I recently started an online course about photography through grieving.  Now I am getting started a little late, because I have just been way too busy.  But the first assignment so to speak is to write a letter to your child telling them how you got where you are.  And to take a few self portraits.  So here we go...

Dear Virginia,

I love you.

I think I start every letter I write to you that way, because it's true.  So how did I get here?

Well first off, I'll pinpoint "here".  It has been 39 weeks and 4 days since the day you were born, and the day you died.  I carried you for 39 weeks and 4 days.  So really "here" is a very fragile place, where I am on the brink of the day you will have been gone longer than you were here.

I have dreaded that day for a very long time.  I can't imagine what it will bring with it.  20 weeks since your death was a very hard day, as was 39 weeks this past Tuesday.  So I can't imagine what tomorrow will be like, but I know it won't be easy.

Let's go back to your beginning, the beginning of the only story I have worth telling...yours.

I graduated high school in 2008.  I was in love with acting...with theatre.  I lived it, breathed it, ate it, drank it, loved it with all my soul.  I wanted to act forever.  I knew I couldn't have a family or a normal life, because I would never have a steady job, and I did not care in the least.  I wanted to act.  After I graduated high school I went to a university to study acting.  I was there for one semester, and suddenly I knew it wasn't right.  I knew I couldn't act professionally, I couldn't give up a normal life and a normal family.  I felt like acting wasn't right anymore and I wasn't quite sure why at the time. But I knew there was something more I wanted.  I wanted you.  I wanted to be a mother.  I figured that out a little later, while I was still in school trying to figure out what to study.

I started planning everything around kids.  What I could do that would be best for them.  And I wasn't married, or planning for kids right away, but it inspired every decision I made...what would be best for my future children.

Becoming a mother became the only goal that mattered, I truly believed, and still do, that I could never achieve anything greater than my children.

In 2012 I married your father.  On February 19th 2013 we found out I was pregnant.  At about 10:20 in the morning.  When I told him, your Daddy couldn't wait to tell everyone.  He was kind of freaking out.  We were in love with you from that day forward.

I was convinced you were a boy.  I just knew it.  In May, we found out I was wrong.  It was you, the most beautiful little girl that has ever graced this earth with her presence...you.  We knew Virginia was the perfect name, after his grandmother.  Jane and John have the same meaning, so Jane it was.  Virginia Jane.  Perfect.

It really has turned out to be just what you should have been named.  Jane, "God's gracious gift."  You are the best gift I could have ever asked for.  The best part of my life, my whole world.  And Virginia, well I see that name all the time, and for that I am so thankful.  I see a "Virginia" license plate just when I miss you the most.  I drive past "Virginia St", I see "V"s in the sky.  It could not have been more perfect for you.

I was blessed with carrying you for those 39 weeks and 4 days.  Blessed with your life, with watching you grow, with becoming your mother.

Gorgeous child I will never understand why you couldn't stay with us.  You would have wanted for nothing, not things, not love, not attention.  You are my greatest accomplishment, and the only thing that could ever be as great may be the brothers and sisters that might come after you.

Your journey on earth ended in October, but your journey still continues.  You live OH how you live on in all of our hearts, you have changed every part of me, every molecule of my body is different because of you.  You will never be forgotten.  You will never be pushed aside.  You will be spoken of and loved always always always.

You teach me, you inspire me.  I love you.  I miss you, every second of every day.  This is not where your story ends sweet, perfect Virginia Jane.  I love you.

So how did I get where I am right now?  I got here because of you.  Because you lived, and because you died.  Because I love you.  I am here because I wanted you more than anything, because I still do.  Because I grieve for you as deeply as I love you.  That is why I am here now, that is how I got here.

Love always,
Mommy





I will be posting the self portraits at the end of the week, after I have taken some and can choose a few to post.  If you have read this, or any part of this blog, thank you.  It is so so helpful to healing.

9 months, 39 weeks.

9 months.
39 weeks.
Today.

I have been dreading 39 weeks.  Very much.  I carried her for 39 weeks and 4 days.  At 39 weeks and 5 days my gorgeous daughter will have been gone longer than she was here.

I cannot handle that thought.  It overwhelms me, but it is here and there's nothing I can do about it but get through it.

At 39 weeks of pregnancy, it was a Friday.  I was getting a membrane sweep at the doctors.  She was close, so so close.  The doctor told me that it can help get labor started, hopefully within 48 hours.  She told me to walk a lot.  I did.  I walked around the neighborhood over and over.  I was so so ready to meet her.  And so was John.  At 39 weeks.

I miss her always, but these days are harder somehow.

I should be writing more.  Healing is a choice.  Writing for me is very healing.  But I'm so busy these days, and I have to make time for it.  I'm not really sure that I'm ready to choose healing.  It's hard to explain, but if it didn't hurt so much, it feels like it would mean I don't care.  I think it's something everyone who grieves goes through, when to really choose to heal.

Either way, I've got to find more time to write, because I really need it.  Especially on days like today.

how I feel now.

I have just been working on some things for the bake sale we are having for the fundraiser.  I am really excited to be doing it. 

I started thinking about how little time I have had to write, and then I thought about why I started writing in the first place.  It was because I found so much comfort in reading things written by other bereaved parents.  Just knowing that I was not the only one feeling such things in this situation.

So how do I feel eight months in?

Really, not much different.

A lot has changed in how I handle everything.  I get up and go everyday unlike at first when I couldn’t move.  I am able to bear the weight of the pain better now, I am able to have conversations and work and do many of the normal things I just could not do at first.

But it does not, in any way, hurt any less that I still wake up every day without her.  That pain is no less.  100 lbs doesn’t get lighter cause you train to lift it, you just lift it better.

I feel the need to say this though, I will never not want to talk about Virginia.  It is never easy to say to someone that she has died, but I would never want to hide her or shy away from her because it is difficult.  I don’t just blurt out my child is dead to everyone who walks by, but if someone asks me who Virginia is I will gladly tell anyone who is willing to listen anything and everything about her.   I will never not want to talk about my daughter.  She is my child, alive or dead.

But, how I feel at eight months in…

I’m still really angry much of the time.  Not so much now at everyone with a living child or everyone who is pregnant, just pretty much at life and the world in general.  I’m still really really angry, because it will never make sense to me that a child born into so much love didn’t get to live out her life with us.  It will never make any sense, and I will always be angry about it.  Angry that I don’t get to watch her grow up.  Angry about a million other things.  I am still angry.

And sad of course, although I would say I am a little healthier, I can at least eat on a regular basis.

I still can’t sleep though, not without some kind of guided meditation to put me to sleep or medicine on the really bad nights.

Grief is still just very heavy and exhausting.  It clouds everything.  I still just want to lay in bed all day.  I still know I can't.  I suppose some could say it's time to lighten up a little and learn to love to live.  I don't really care if some think that.  I feel what I feel, I'm still sad, I'll make no apologies. 

I am determined to leave a legacy of love for my beautiful daughter though.  I know she can make a difference in this world.  I know that she can. 

legacy

I still write to her. Everyday.  I still write about how beautiful she is, how much I miss her.  I love her so very much.

It's amazing how you can think you know what love is, and then when you really have it you realize you knew nothing.  I knew nothing of love before her.  Absolutely nothing.  Now it's just a matter of turning it into action.  Taking love and making it compassion and patience and all sorts of other things.  Using love to heal pain, and fear, and everything.  I am just now learning what love really is, what pure boundless love from your soul truly is.

I'm still so angry so much of the time.  Or down and sad about what we've been through.  About why her, why us, what would have changed everything and why can't we go back and do it differently.  If I can find a way I most certainly will.  I will fix it when the day comes.

But until then it seems it is only darkness.  So I gotta learn how to let love come in. And sprout out in all sorts of ways.

I need more time to really sit and write.  I just have been so busy.  I'm going to have to make time to just be alone, write to Virginia, write here, write anything.

OOHhhh this pain does not end.  It gets easier to carry, easier to face and deal with.  But it never hurts any less.  All I can do for her is give her a legacy of love.

Just like donations.  Like the donation of my hair.  Hopefully it was used and is now a wig for a child who needed it.  But who gave that gift?  Because it came from my body, but it was inspired by my perfect child.  Virginia is the one who got that hair to those children.  Virginia did that.  Things like that are her legacy.  What we can be inspired to do for her, that is her legacy.  I want it to be a legacy of pure love.  Because she gave me the strongest love in the world: the bond of a child and her parent.

Her's will be a legacy of love.  She will spread her little light.  Because she will.  Because I will never stop fighting for her.  Because she will not be forgotten.  She will be as big a part of this family as everyone here right now.  She will do amazing things through us, all of us.  Through all of the people she teaches.  She will spread her little magenta light everywhere.

I love her more than words.  Just more than I can say.

when nothing works out like it should.

It seems just when you think you've got life figured out and everything might be almost okay and you've been brave enough to actually come up with a new plan, life throws a curve ball and your plan goes to shit.

I don't plan like I used to, but I guess I still plan a little.  I'll just never learn to stop that completely because it is 100%  pointless.

In a book I love about Taoism it says that you should have no wants or desires or plans.  You should just live.  Just go with it and chill out.

I wish.

I am trying to live on a smaller scale though, one day at a time.  What do I feel like I should do today?  What can I do today?  In this one day?  Because this day is really all you've got.  You could be dead five minutes from now.  And then all that worrying is for nothing.

It's a hard concept...to just live a day at a time and not plan, or worry.  But it's just the way you have to live if you ever want to make it through tragedy.  You just have to focus on this moment and what you can do with it.  Making plans means disappointment when they don't work out.  Thinking of the whole future is just too overwhelming.  Just focus on one day at a time.  This day is all there is.

Father's Day

Father's Day is this weekend.  I really thought it was next weekend.  But it's coming up fast.

Just as bereaved mothers shouldn't be forgotten on Mother's Day, bereaved fathers shouldn't be forgotten on Father's Day.

They are sometimes forgotten in general, because everyone focuses on how the mother is doing.  But those Daddy's lost the same thing the Mommy's lost, and it is just as hard for them to face days like this without their children.

I wanted to do whatever would bring me the most peace on Mother's Day, and I hope that's what the father's missing their children will decide to do this Sunday.

Virginia's father and I can't be together this Father's Day, but my whole heart is with him.  He's a grieving dad, but mostly importantly he is a dad, her dad, and he deserves to be celebrated this weekend for loving her and missing her the way only a Daddy can.

(in case the video doesn't work in this post, it's here)

never, ever alone.

I saw this postcard tonight on postsecret.

It just breaks my heart.  There are so many Mama's and Daddy's out there missing their babies.  Just know you aren't alone.  I wish none of us were bereaved, but just know, you are never alone.

one day at a time.

I have been much too overwhelmed the past few days.  Everything has seemed much worse all of a sudden.

I think I have been focusing too much on the big picture.  On the fact that she died, that I'll never hold her again, that I have to keep living each day without her.  A grieving parent can't live like that, thinking about the big picture.  It has to be day to day.  One day at a time.

I have to start really focusing on that again.  On making it through one day.  And nothing else.  Just one day.

And my expectations of others is much too high.  To think anyone will ever care about her as much as I do is just never going to happen.  Besides John of course, because he misses her just as much as I do, but besides John no one knew her the way I did.  No one else was her parent.  No one else is her mother.  So to think that people will care as much as me is setting an impossible goal.  And a huge one, and I can't set those.  I can only set goals I can accomplish in a day.  One single day.  I can do one day.

So I am abolishing my expectations.  I hope that everyone that has heard about Virginia loves her.  I hope they all want her to have a legacy of love.  I certainly do.  Maybe I will have some help with that.  Maybe I won't.  But I can't expect everyone to be as passionate as me.  No one else is her mother.

I know part of the reason too I have been overwhelmed is that I cannot sleep.  For a while I had started to again, but now the sleepless nights are back.  I just can't sleep.  Everything always feels worse when I have barely slept in days.  So tonight, I will give in to taking a sleeping aid.  And I'll start tomorrow with a plan for the day--just that day.


"And you don't realize how good you have it
There are things worse than sleepless nights
with cranky infants

There are sleepless nights alone"

Stephanie Paige Cole
(to linger on hot coals)

my daughter is amazing, and so are her pictures.

A couple of days ago, I had someone tell me that pictures of my beautiful daughter "bothered" them.

That is not only incredibly offensive to me, it is disrespectful to my daughter.  And that with me is crossing a line you can't cross back over.

This, thankfully, is the only occasion anyone has said anything like that to me.  Everyone else who has seen her has talked only about how beautiful she is.

But I feel the need to write a little about it, because this is the way I see this situation.

There are two ways to look at the pictures of sweet, perfect Virginia.  There is the way this person obviously does: to see her death.  They look at her, and see only that she has died and absolutely nothing else.  And yes, that can be painful because her death is incredibly tragic.  But her life is not.

Which is what brings me to my view, the view I feel most have had when looking at her.  When I look at her pictures I see her, not death, not just a baby who no longer lives, I see my daughter.  And dear Lord she was so gorgeous. I see that.  I see how absolutely perfect she is, and that John and I created something that incredible.  I see how much I love her.  I see how much she inspires me to be more compassionate and to be better, how much she's taught me, how amazing she is.  I see how unbelievably grateful I am that I had her, that I am her mother, and that she is a part of my life.  I see how thankful I am to have pictures, because I carried her long enough to be able to hold her and have those pictures, and they are absolutely the most precious possession I have.  I see her, just her, and her life.

So you can focus on her life and how wonderful she is.  Or you can focus on her death, which just seems like a messed up way to think about her.  I hate that there are people who could think she should be hidden and shouldn't be seen or that she is just a negative or unfortunate thing that happened.  Her death is.  She is not.  She is the best damn thing that has ever happened to me, and I keep pictures of her e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e. and always, always will.

seven months.

I miss writing a lot, I haven't been doing it as much lately.  But I should try to keep up with it.


It is so surreal to have moved out of that house.  I spent so much time there, planning out our life with Virginia, and then the early weeks and months of grieving her death.  I cannot believe I won't be going back there.  I miss it. 


It has been a good thing to be closer to family.  And here so far I have been much busier.  But I miss having time to really grieve.  It's like the past week it has just built up and is now releasing.  It still hurts so much.


I don't even have as much time lately to read things from other bereaved parents.  I cannot explain how much it has helped to read those things the last few months.  It is 7 months now.  Seven months in just a few minutes.  As soon as it hits the 22nd.  I can't believe it has been that long since she was born.  I really can't. 


I love her so much though.  Once everything settles here hopefully I can focus on the fundraiser.  And writing more. 


The pain just does not ever lesson or go away.  You just get better at facing it.