Day 31: Sunset

Today is the final day of Capture Your Grief.  The word today is sunset.  Of course it has been raining all day today, so I didn't have the opportunity to take a photo.  I asked Jeff if he had a sunset photo he wanted me to use, and he sent me this one:

This photo was taken in Florida when we were on vacation last spring.  I was seven months pregnant, and I spent the trip imagining how different the trip would be next year, when Emma was along and Jeff could take her to the beach, and we could take her swimming.

This month has been hard for me.  The first half was uplifting and liberating, and the last two weeks have just been weighing heavily on my heart.  I feel like I'm having some form of PTSD.  Halloween is the first real holiday we've gone through (4th of July was so close to Emma's birth that it barely registered), and I was looking forward to picking out her costume and taking pumpkin pictures and taking her trick-or-treating so that Jeff and I could keep candy for ourselves.

Someone I know was diagnosed with a serious illness, and that's been difficult, as well.  This year has just dealt devastating blow after devastating blow, and I can't keep seeing people that I care about being knocked down.  It seems like every time I hear from someone, things are going awry.

So what does this sunset mean to me?  I hope that it means that the sun is setting two months early on this nightmare of a year.  I hope that it means that I can wake tomorrow and refocus my energy on healing and looking at the good things in life.  I hope that it means that the people I love are going to be able to do the same.  As a general rule I avoid any sense of entitlement, but I think we all have earned it.  We deserve for things to turn around.  So here's to the sun coming up in a day of hope and positivity.  And the red squiggle under positivity will not deter me, I am declaring it a real word.

Day 23: Jewelry

Today's word is jewelry. I have two pieces that remind me of Emma:

The bracelet is a silver Kate Spade bracelet that reads, "hand in hand in hand" over and over.  The inscription inside the bangle says, "There's strength in numbers."  My sister works for Make-a-Wish, and her wonderful co-workers purchased these bracelets for Alli, my mom, and I.  It reminds me of the generosity of strangers, and that Allison has a great support group of her own.  Her co-workers drove her up to Milwaukee from Indianapolis the day that we were in the hospital.  The selflessness they displayed was inspiring.

The necklace is a few different things.  The diamond is from a necklace that Jeff gave me on our wedding day.  The ring is the ring that was in Emma's hand when we were in the hospital.  Jeff bought me the chain for my birthday in July.  I have worn it every day since.  Holding that ring in my hand makes me feel like I'm touching her again.  It's a bit hard, because I know that this ring will always be too big for her tiny fingers.  She will never grow into and out of it.  Still, there's a comfort in touching something that touched her.

Day 21: Honor

Or Honour if you're feeling fancy.

Many things have been done in Emma's honor.  Some of my wonderful friends got together and registered a star in her name.  Many of our friends, family, and co-workers have made donations to Make-a-Wish in her honor. The idea that our little girl is fulfilling someone else's wish is bittersweet.  We took all of the diapers, wipes, and creams that were given to us so generously and donated them to the Sojourner Family Peace Center.  We will continue to strive to come up with new ways to honor Emma and make sure her memory lives on.

This blog also serves as a way to honor her.  I am working every day to educate people about a subject that is still taboo.  I don't want to feel awkward talking about her or writing about her or letting people know that she existed.  Keeping her memory alive is the best way I can honor it.

Day 20: Hope

Today's word for Capture Your Grief is Hope.  Obviously it's an abstract premise, so I don't really have a photo.  I will say that this is one of the hardest words for me to write about.  When I was pregnant with Emma, I didn't realize how much I wanted to be a mom.  More than that, I didn't realize how much I wanted a child.  It wasn't until I lost her that I realized how much I needed her.

I am hoping that I will be able to have another child and fulfill that need.  It's a tough thing to hold on to, when I feel like everything I wanted was stripped away in an instant.  I know that I have many other things in my life to be grateful for, and I've written about those things at length.  Unfortunately the one thing that is out of my grasp seems to be the most important thing right now - isn't that always the case?

I hold on to this hope for myself, and for Jeff.  For our families, our friends.  For the people who have stood shoulder to shoulder with us and cried with us and who I know hope this for us, too.

Day 15: Wave of Light

Today's words are Wave of Light.  Jeff and I lit this candle tonight in honor of Emma Dean.  I also dedicate this candle to the people we know who have suffered similar losses.  This day has been interesting for me.  It's amazing how my heart has felt simultaneously heavy and light.  It is heavy for all of the loss that I am now aware of, for how atrocious this year was (full disclosure, at some points this year I wanted to drink bleach - fine, maybe just drink).  It is lightened by the love and support we have received and the friends we have made as we've gone through this loss.  How blessed we are to have such wonderful people in our lives!

When this flame is extinguished tonight, I hope that the bad energy of this year disappears into the ether with the smoke.  Too many of us have had heartache and sorrow this year, and I am filled with hope that this night will be a turning point.

Day 12: Article

Today's word for Capture Your Grief is Article.  This article at Still Standing is one of my favorites.  Grief is an angry, bitter thing sometimes.  And there tends to be an expectation that the grieving should be full of grace and understanding when others don't know what to say around us.  And most of the time we are.  But when I'm caught on an off-day?  Oh, the things that will set me off.  I am striving to be as gracious as possible, but with my tendency towards sarcasm (and occasionally outright bitchiness), it can be difficult.  Not much to add about the article, it's beautifully written and I think it speaks for itself!


http://stillstandingmag.com/2013/03/easy-for-you-to-say/

Day 11: Trigger Happy

Day 11's word for Capture Your Grief is Emotional Triggers.  The things that give me the hardest time are seeing women who are late in their pregnancy and enjoying life without a care in the world, and seeing brand new, tiny little babies.





It's really hard to articulate these feelings, because I think that people misinterpret it as some kind of envy.  What I really feel for the pregnant women I see is a longing for that simple time when I believed everything would be okay, and that I would end up with a beautiful, healthy baby in my arms.  I was half right.

When I see those tiny babies, I am filled with an almost crippling pain that I never got to bring my baby home and take her to those places.  Bed, Bath, & Beyond, a pizza restaurant, a wine bar...perhaps I need to think of some better examples.

I know that with time these triggers will become less sensitive, but for now the pain is still so raw that I flinch when I see them.

Day 9: Music

Day 9 of Capture Your Grief...today's word is Music.  The song that best describes how I feel is "In the Sun".  I first heard the song in the movie "Saved" (which is fantastic!  Mandy Moore has the best lines.  Examples include, "It's 'Born Again,' not 'Born A-Gay" and "No, I'm not okay!  I just crashed my van into Jesus!").  The song was re-recorded by several artists (including one Mr. Justin Timberlake!) after Hurricane Katrina.

The lines that most remind me of Emma are:

I know I would apologize if I could see your eyes
'Cause when you showed me myself, you know, I became someone else
But I was caught in between all you wish for and all you need
I pictured you fast asleep
A nightmare comes
You can't keep awake 

I think about how I never got to see her eyes, how she showed me a part of myself that had seemingly laid dormant until she existed.  I worry about her being alone and hope she knows how much I love her.

When I'm feeling extra sorry for myself, this part can bring me to tears:

I pictured you in the sun wondering what went wrong
And falling down on your knees asking for sympathy
And being caught in between all you wish for and all you seen
And trying to find anything you can feel that you can believe in

It's hard to find a belief system when your dreams and hopes and plans are quite literally ripped from your body.  I find myself oscillating between wanting another child and fearing that history will repeat itself.  I am searching for the strength to move forward.

Day 8 - Color

Today's word is Color.  I've been really excited about this one.

Emma's color is purple.  Jeff has always loved purple, and when we found out we were having a girl, I knew that we would decorate her nursery in that color.  We spent hours upon hours searching for the perfect color for the walls, for the perfect bedding, artwork, and a rug.  I love her room.  I know she would have loved it, too.

The amazing thing is that since I've started associating this color with her, I've been seeing it everywhere.  Wild flowers growing on the side of the road, a lone balloon floating through the sky.  It seems like they always show up when I'm thinking about her.

Day 7 - That's Way Harsh, Tai

Day 7 of Capture Your Grief is "You Now."  I don't have a photo that represents this, but thinking about where I am now caused me to realize some harsh truths.

Earlier today I had a thought that I'm ashamed to admit.  I was thinking about this month and this project and what it means to me, and I thought, "I should post something about the people who haven't reached out to me and how I'm not angry at them for not writing to me in this difficult time."

I actually thought that.  And thirty seconds later, I thought, "What a sanctimonious, condescending, selfish little asshole you are."  Where do I get off "forgiving" someone who hasn't done anything to "deserve" my forgiveness?

I have spent the last ten years being unbelievably self-involved.  How many times have I scrolled by the misery of someone else and not extended so much as a kind word to them?  Whether I was too busy feeling sorry for myself because my parents got divorced, or I was feeling sorry for myself that my job wasn't as good as the job I was convinced I deserved, or I was too busy planning my wedding, my selfishness knew no bounds.

I have seen people reaching out for a kind word or thought, and I have left them to fend for themselves.  In the darkest time of my life, I have been lifted up by my friends and family.  I have been lifted up so high that I can see myself clearly and honestly for the first time, and I am deeply sorry and ashamed.  That I expected people who are essentially strangers (who happen to have a shared history) to extend a hand to me when I did nothing of the sort for them is despicable.

I am sorry.  If I have wronged you, if I have slighted you, if I have ignored your moment of pain because I was too self-involved to see beyond myself.  I am sorry.  If I pushed you away when you were trying to help me, if I rejected your cries for help, if I let you slip away from me because I just "didn't have time" for you.  I am sorry.

I have been trying to work on myself since Emma's death.  I am striving to make up for the things that I've done wrong in the past, but I can't do that without being honest about them.  I guess that the person I should be angry at for not reaching out to help me is myself, because this self-reflection wasn't that hard to come by.  It just took a little honesty.  And being way harsh didn't hurt, either.

Day 6: Ritual

Day 6 of Capture Your Grief...today's word is Ritual.

I have read that many people come home from the hospital after a stillbirth and immediately dismantle the nursery.  We chose to leave Emma's nursery intact.  She was cremated, and it was important to me to bring her home and put her in the room that we had lovingly decorated for her.  This shelf container a photo of Jeff and I holding her tiny hand in ours, her urn, a letter "E" that a friend of mine created for her as a shower gift, and the purple hat she was wearing at the hospital in some of her photos.

I do have a ritual.  It's not every day, but it's most days.  I go in and put a hand on her urn and close my eyes and tell her I love her.  I pick up her little hat and smell it...it smelled so much like her when we brought it home, but I fear it's fading now.  Still, knowing that it touched her makes me feel that a physical part of her is always with me.

Legacy & Memory

Yesterday's word was legacy.  Today's word is memory.  I am trying to honor both with this blog.

I initially started this to preserve Emma's memory.  I wanted to make sure she wasn't forgotten, that there was an indelible imprint of her somewhere besides my heart.  It has evolved into something that I want to use to honor her legacy, as well.  I would love to be able to reach other people who are going through this right now.  People who think they have hit the bottom and have realized their worst nightmare and don't know how they can go on.  To be able to show someone that my daughter's very existence has made such an impact is my ultimate goal.

Myth Busters

I skipped yesterday.  Obviously.  Today's word is Myth.

The biggest myth about stillbirth is that "it's better she was taken that way instead of after I brought her home."  I've already written about this, but it continues to bother me.  My sweet daughter's crib would be empty either way.  When I walk into the nursery and hear only silence, and see a room that's too quiet and orderly, and feel a physical ache in my arms from longing to hold her again, I can't imagine a worse reality.  And if this is "better" than the alternative?  God help anyone who is "worse" off than me.

Capturing Grief

I'm taking part in the 31 Day Project to Capture My Grief.  It's a photo project.  October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.  Each day (or as many days as I feel inspired), I will be posting a photo and what that day's word means to me.  Today's word is Sunrise.

It's a little blurry, but there it is.  Today's sunrise signifies a new beginning for me.  I am ready to become a mother to another child, and I am filled with hope and excitement on this day.  I'm also filled with anxiety and fear.  But today I'm going to let hope and excitement win out.

As I was driving to work this morning, a tree was dropping leaves right in the sunlight.  It was beautiful.  I actually stopped the car and scrambled for my phone to get a picture...until the leaves stopped falling and I saw the car behind me.  But trust me, it was beautiful.  And it made me even more hopeful than I was when I took the photo at sunrise.