she might just be right

I think it's common to question what you believe spiritually when you experience grief.  I honestly believe we don't have all the answers, and as long as you're happy believing what you believe go for it.  But reading this book I came across this passage, it's actually a quote from a mother they interviewed for the book.  I love it.

"Part of what I believe is that we exist as a soul or whatever, as an entity, before we are a body.  We decide how and when and to whom to be born and what kind of life to lead, which is not to say it's all predestined and cast in stone, because we make changes as we go, but that we have a purpose for being born, almost like something or some things we want to accomplish.  And when those get accomplished, then we usually die.  Some people accomplish these quickly and some people take a long time, and I had the sense that Stephanie had some particular things that she wanted to do in this lifetime and she had some things to help us learn and she had a reason for being here....She needed to know that she was loved, and she knew that the whole time I was pregnant and she knew that the five days she was here and that she wanted to share that love with us, and then she didn't need to stay around here any longer.  I also had another sense about her-I have a real issue with letting go of all the way from trivial things to people and relationships, and I think one of the things she was here to teach me was how to let go."



From Empty Cradle, Broken Heart by Deborah L. Davis.

control

I am learning, slowly and painfully, but surely, that I am not in control of everything.  That is incredibly difficult for me to grasp and for me to accept.  I love being in control, I love planning, I used to have to have those things.  But I am learning how little I really can control.

I cannot control life or death or sickness or other people and the way they think or act.  I have no control over those things.

What I do have control over is what I think and do.  And really that's pretty much it.

So I am learning to let go of those things I can't control.  To forgive the actions of others, because I can't control what they do so it's pointless to be mad when they don't do what I think they should.  And I certainly don't control life and death.  Although I think forgiving myself will take a lot of time.

I want to move away from anger, and more towards patience.  And I want to keep telling myself that letting go of some anger doesn't mean forgetting my daughter or saying it's okay that she's gone, just that I'm trying to grow and learn.  I love her so much, I could never forget, she's what keeps me going.

the knowledge no one wants to need

One hundred and nine days ago I had all the innocence I had acquired for 23 years ripped away from me.  I had never known a significant loss, and I didn't know losing her was an option.

I can't stop asking why.  Why her?

Today I was reading about stillbirth research, and there are something like 26,000 stillbirths each year in the US alone.  Most of those happen full term.  And many of them have no warning.  Not that a warning would make it any easier.  I had no idea that happened though.  I thought when a baby died in utero you knew it was likely, you knew about a disease or a risk.  That was naive.

26,000.  26,000 families devastated every year by their baby dying suddenly.  And that's just the United States, and that's not including miscarriages and deaths from SIDS.

And why?  I literally did everything I could to give that child a healthy life during pregnancy, and made sure she had everything she would need when she was born.  I wanted nothing more than to be a mother, nothing.  So why her?  Why any babies?  Why would any parents ever outlive their children?  It should never be allowed to happen.

It's a question I will never have an answer to, but I can't stop asking.

In moving forward, the only thing I can do is keep up with the research, and hope that something soon comes along that can prevents tragedies like this.  Today I found a test that they are designing in Australia, (here's one article about it) that tests the blood to see if the oxygen level the baby is getting is low.  Hopefully it's something that will work, and be available very very soon.

One thing is certain though, I will never be naive again.  And I know that there was nothing that could have prepared me for what happened, but I feel like I should have known more.  No one ever wants to talk about these risks though.  So there are just families who go through this, unprepared and in complete shock.  If nothing else, I wish we had known what would happen in the hospital after she died.

We were actually blessed to have a staff that did everything they should have.  They let us hold her and keep her with us as long as we wanted.  They took pictures for us.  They gave us hand prints and footprints and a lock of her hair.  They made a memory box for us.  All of those things were things we needed and many of them were things we never would have thought to ask for in those moments.

I've read a lot of stories about moms who barely got to hold their child or who didn't get a picture.  Those things are so so precious.  And at the time you don't fully realize that.  Because you are in such shock and everything is so overwhelming and really you have no idea what is happening.  But if I hadn't had that time with her, I don't know what I would have done when we left the hospital.  If I didn't have pictures of my gorgeous child I would have gone completely crazy by now.  The time with her, the pictures, the memory box, those were all things we needed.

Luckily the staff did all of those things for us, but not everyone gets that experience.  So if nothing else, I wish we had been given that knowledge before, the information about what to do when the worst does happen.

Although if I could make the choice, no one would ever need such knowledge.  No parent would ever be left with just memories and a lot a questions.

speaking truths

There's an episode of The Office where Jim and Pam start speaking their "truths" to each other.  I love The Office.  And maybe I need to speak some of my truths.

To speak my truth, this situation is horrible and exhausting.  Trying constantly to find ways to keep going and be okay when my daughter is gone.  Trying constantly to convince myself there is a reason to live, and not just exist but really live without her.  It is forever an uphill battle.  I want to give in, and stay in bed all day and never leave and just waste away.  That is what I want to do, drown.  Because fighting it is tiresome, and frustrating, and awful.  But I also want her to live on through those that love her.  So giving in is not an option.

To speak my truth, losing friendships and relationships because people don't know how to handle the situation is pretty shitty.  I don't know how it happens.  I don't know how some of the people you are closest to and you just knew would be there everyday just vanish from your life.  I don't know why.  Maybe it's because they are so close it hurts them too much.  Or maybe they just don't know what to say.  Here's what to say, "I'm sorry you have to go through this.  I'm so sorry she's gone.  But I'll be here whenever you need me to be."  That's it.  Don't say anything else.  And then be there.  Just be there.  Call.  A lot.  Visit.  Do whatever just be there.  

What's strange is people I barely know being so supportive.  And I read so much in the beginning about that happening.  That part is amazing.  How strangers can stand up and be loving of others.  Or people I haven't spoken to in years.  That is an incredible thing.  There has been a lot of support for my daughter.  But there has been some drifting apart too, at the worst time for that to happen.  And I do say some of the people you are closest to, because not everyone is like that and many people in my life have been there and been wonderful.

To speak my truth, I won't paint my nails.  I won't wear earrings.  I won't dance.  I list those things because I know it's irrational.  I know she doesn't care if I do those things, and doing them or any of the things I considered normal or happy before won't mean I love her less or miss her less or that I don't grieve for her.  I know that.  But I just won't do them.  Not right now.  It doesn't feel right without her.

To speak my truth, I miss my daughter with every fiber of my being, always.  And I would not choose any other baby to be Mommy of.  I am so unbelievably proud of her and I wouldn't trade her for anything.  I absolutely would bring her back here if I could.  I would change her brief time on this earth and make it longer.  I would take care of her and watch her grow up and hear her laugh.  I don't know why this was her journey, to be here for such a short time and then move on.  I don't know why.  But I have a connection and a bond with her that goes well beyond life and death.  And physically or not, this is our journey together.  I wish it had not been this way, but I don't love her any less because she is not here.

I also carried that little body and that perfect soul for almost 40 weeks.  I know that child, whether I knew her out of my womb or not.  I know she's just like John.  I know that.  If you put his newborn picture beside hers she looks just like him...just. like. him.  But not just that she acted like him too.  If I was covered up with a blanket, which I frequently was because I'm always cold, she would freak out.  She would kick and move and squirm and punch until I took the blanket off.  Then she would rest.  She hated being hot and she got fussy and she starting swinging when she was upset...just. like. him.

I desperately wish I could see her mature and watch her learn and see how feisty and sassy she would undoubtedly have become.  But to speak my truth I know her better than one might think.  And I love her more than words can describe.

christmas, a memorial, and a return

I don't write on here a whole lot.  Like I said it's more about Virginia's story than anything else.  And I feel like I am so fresh in my grief I still have more pain than wisdom.  But, today I feel like writing something.

We just got back recently from a trip to visit our families in North Carolina.  We decided to drive across country instead of fly, which turned out to be an interesting choice as we ran into several situations we weren't expecting.  Long story short I'll just say we left in a camry, drove through some bad weather, and came back with a jeep.  But  we got to see some incredible friends through the drive who really helped us out, and we got to visit our families.

I assumed coming back to this house would be really hard.  I just thought, coming back to where we should be living with our baby and her still not being here, still just us missing her would be too much to take.  But it feels different than I thought it would.  Now granted it's only been a few hours since we've been back and I know some terrible feelings will find me in the next couple days, but I feel her presence here right now and I really love it.  As soon as we walked in we saw the huge pictures we have hanging of her gorgeous face.  And I could still smell the vanilla candle I light in memory of her.  It just feels like she's here with us.  She just never leaves our hearts or minds.  I miss her so much.

We made it through Christmas okay.  Someone made a comment about our family being "complete" for the first time in years since we all got to be home on Christmas.  But I lost it at that comment.  I am very thankful to have my husband home for the holidays, but my family will never be complete.  Never.  My daughter is missing and until we join her in heaven it will certainly not be complete.  I did not enjoy hearing that.

We also decided to have a memorial service for Virginia while we were there, since it's the first time we've been able to travel home since she died.  The service was not what we expected, we didn't know the preacher, but he was suggested to us by some family members and while I'm glad we were able to have the service he just didn't say the things we would have liked to hear.  But we did get to sit with our family for a long while after the actual service, and that part was really a blessing.  To just share her and talk about her with everyone was a good thing.

However I do sort of wish now I had said something at the service.  I even wrote it out before, but I wasn't sure I would get through saying it.  After hearing that preacher, I now think I probably could have because something needed to be said, but it's in the past now.  So now I'll just post some of it here.

For Virginia Jane Phillips

Thank you for being here (or now, reading this).  Thank you for every prayer, and every kind thought.

I want to ask that you help us keep the name and the memory of Virginia alive.  Losing her was an absolute shock, because I had a very healthy pregnancy and we never expected anything to happen to her.  And because she was so young I’ve found most people don’t know what to say, and that’s okay because there aren’t any magic words that will make everything all better.  But she is our child.  She is our first-born child, for our parents she is their first grandchild, and that will never change.  So I want to talk about her, the last thing I would ever want to do is pretend she was never here, and I ask that you not be afraid to acknowledge her, in fact I ask that you never stop acknowledging her.  There will never be a day of my life that I don’t miss her with my entire being, but I will never want to forget my baby.  My wish is that she is always remembered. 

Although talking about her is not the only way we can remember and honor her.  I feel like the best way that I can do that is through having compassion for others and trying to do some good for other people.  Because when John and I walk around in a store, the people who see us don’t know anything about Virginia or our heartache.  And sometimes I can’t help but wonder what kind of things those people have been through that we know nothing about.  So I want to be able to help other people, and do it in honor of my daughter.  Right now that can be kind of difficult, because it has only been a little over two months and finding energy to do anything at all is difficult.  But I truly believe that the good our daughter can do on this earth will not end with her leaving it.  Through me, through John, and through everyone that loves her she will never cease to do good in this world.  So I hope that everyone in this room, including me, can be inspired by our beautiful, wonderful daughter to have compassion and do what we can to help others.

I can say honestly that all this grieving, and now being a bereaved parent, is really hard.  There are absolutely no words to describe how much it hurts, or what it feels like to hold your child knowing that she’s gone.  But the good news is that it’s only us here who suffer.  As parents and grandparents and family and friends that would have seen her grow up we hurt so much because she’s gone.  But from October 22 into eternity Virginia will only know joy and worship.  She is in a far happier and better place than we can even comprehend, and while I will never know or fully understand why she was taken to heaven so soon, I know that she isn’t suffering, and there will come a day whenever God chooses that we will be with her again. 

So what we have to do for now, is just keep going.  We have to find every way we can to remember her and honor her.  We have to pray for strength to get through all the pain of her loss and reach a place where there is only love for her.  Because ultimately we only feel that pain because we love her, and that love for her is what really matters.   So although it is easier said than done, and the journey will be long and hard, we just have to keep going.

I really am honestly grateful for those of you here (and reading this), and for the help we had in making this service for her possible.  So I want to thank you for coming and thank God for the gift of this beautiful child.  And I want to send all the love I have to Virginia in Heaven.  I found this quote one day by another bereaved mother from a book she wrote,

“Each child is a gift, and I am proud that we cooperated with God in the creation of a new soul for eternity.  Although not with me, my baby lives.”

Thank you

I do wish now I had said it, but now it can be read.  Thank you for reading her story.

finding words

It is really hard for me to keep up with writing.  Not because I don't have anything to say, just that I don't know how to say it.  I have written a lot of posts that just stay drafts, because grief is so hard to put into words.

I just miss my daughter, a lot.  And I want to find the strength to keep going, and to me the most important part of this blog is not how I feel, but her story.

the beginning

It has been one day shy of seven weeks since we lost Virginia.  Which means seven weeks ago today, I was going into labor, excited to meet my daughter and start the life I'd been planning for almost 40 weeks.  But life doesn't always turn out the way you plan it, in fact it rarely does, and I've been on a roller coaster since then.  Each day has ups and downs and every movement takes so much energy it's hard to do anything.

I started reading about grief almost immediately after we lost her.  I wanted to know the easy way out of hurting so much, but there just isn't one.  The only way to get through it is to just go through it, to let it hurt really bad and just hope it gets better.  My grief is still so fresh, I know everything will look so different months from now, but right now everything is awful and it's hard to care about anything but Virginia.

Just within the last couple weeks I started reading through blogs and support groups, because it is so easy to feel very alone and like you are the only one who has ever known anything like this, but reading others stories has been the most helpful thing I have done.  I have cried reading so so many, and the more similar the stories are to mine, the more I feel for them.  I found a blog just the other day called Faces of Loss, and reading it made me feel so connected to so many other parents.  I'm not sure if it's still active, because the stories are all from 2012 or before, but it helped me so much I thought I would start a blog in hopes that someone would read the story and feel better.  So this is the beginning of this blog, and hopefully I'll do a good job of keeping up with it.

Anyone who finds this can feel free to contact me, no matter what the story of your child is each child deserves to be recognized and talked about, and it can be so hard to find people who understand.