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
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
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.
-Henry Scott Holland
I am stunned by how beautiful this is.
I just needed to share it.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, September 1, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, August 17, 2014
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.
Saturday, July 26, 2014
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
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.
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.
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