2013

This year was much different. It was probably the most healing year I've experienced since Avery died. Life was relatively normal this year. Of course, it wasn't without conflict, but it wasn't fraught with profoundly earth-shattering circumstances to hurl us off course like previous years. I struggled horribly with my anxiety in the first few months and it wasn't until my writing took off that I felt some relief from that.

Possibly the most thrilling and notable detail of this year would have to be my novel. I can't stress enough how writing has saved me. I was becoming a shell of the person I'd been, so full of fear and sadness. I was constantly worrying about something, convinced that demise was certain at any moment. Writing gave me a reprieve, new thoughts to dwell on, something to be excited about. My characters became special to me and their fictional world my refuge. It might sound crazy to those who don't write, or to those who haven't experienced emotional turmoil. But this was the change I needed. 

Sure, I still have my occasional setbacks and I still have bouts of anxiety and worry, but I am no longer paralyzed by the darkness that was consuming me. My monthly doctor appointments don't grip me with fear any longer. I've learned to contain my thoughts better. 

The struggle I do still deal with is the insatiable desire for more children. As Jude gets older, it only gets worse. He is growing up alone, not even with any cousins, and I long for him to share life with someone like him. I grew up with three brothers who, to this day, remain my very best friends. It hurts that Jude won't know that bond. I find myself still holding onto hope that someday surrogacy will be possible, because that's all I have. I'm not sure what plans God has, but hope is greater than despair. 

New babies are still painful to me. Pregnant women still have me turning my head the other way. It still hurts very much and it's so difficult to be stuck in this place where everyone else around me can move along in their life while I cannot. 

I turned the big 30 this year, which I'm still in disbelief of. I don't think 30 is old, I just can't believe that I'm here already and that time has gone so quickly. Jude turned two in July and that is crazy to me as well. Didn't we just bring him home? 

We lost Bailey this year, but I was surprised to find how quickly I was able to get past it. I guess after losing my own daughter and my grandfather, the loss of a pet wasn't quite the crisis I'd imagined it would be.

Daniel left his CNA job at the health and rehab center and now works at a hospital. He's so much happier and I love that. Lately he's been caring for an elderly man in his home a few days a week and that has definitely helped us out financially. Less stress is nice! Next week, Daniel will begin nursing school to get his RN. I know that will open up so many more opportunities for him and a better life for us a family. 

I pray 2014 is gentle and kind. I pray I can continue on this better path. I look forward to watching my precious boy grow and learn. I will be finishing my book soon and will be publishing it in the coming months. I am very excited about that! 

Jude's 2nd Easter / 20 Months Old / Mom's Birthday

It's amazing to compare Jude this year to the tiny, baby version of Jude from last year. To see how he interacts with the activities of his second year of holidays. I love to watch him take part and enjoy it, even though he doesn't understand the purpose yet.

Jude on his first Easter

Jude doesn't understand who Jesus is yet, or what He did for us, but soon he will. It will be an honor to teach Jude about our Savior. I never got to teach Avery about the God who loves us. Instead, she saw His face before she could even see mine. On Easter, I can't help but think of those I love that are celebrating this victorious occasion with Jesus. This is our first Easter without my grandpa... and our fourth without Avery.

It's difficult not to let my mind wander to my childhood, egg hunts in my grandparents' yard, never dreaming of a day when my grandpa wouldn't be there. And it's also difficult not to see the countless precious Easter dresses that adorn the sweet little girls, and not to think about how I can never buy an Easter dress for Avery, or for any other daughter of mine. The desire for that is becoming unbearable.

Despite the hardships of this path I'm on, I am also delighted constantly by my little boy. It's an odd existence, really, to be so conflicted yet so overjoyed at the same time. I once heard it described like train tracks, with joy and sadness running alongside each other. It describes it perfectly.

Jude added so much joy to this special day. I loved his white oxford shirt with his aqua and white checkered tie (That may have been my favorite part). I let him have his Easter basket this morning while Daniel slept (he works nights and sleeps during the day... still). He got a Transformers kite, a bubbles gun, and some blue Peeps. Jude likes Peeps (It's adorable to watch him eat one). We went to my parents' house early, since today was also my mom's 52nd birthday. After Daniel met up with us, Jude went on a little egg hunt. He opened each egg, which contained a Peep, and took a bite of each one before putting the eggs in his basket. Such a silly boy!

 

 

After he'd found all of the visibly placed eggs, we brought out the kite, which I think Daniel enjoyed more than Jude did. Jude watched it for a few moments, but then continued his joyful trekking through my parents' backyard. He loves being outside and he loves walking and exploring, sometimes losing his balance in the thick grass, but getting back up to his feet immediately. I could never tire of watching him enjoy himself, watching him learn about his world.



Jude's goodies from my parents

 

My mom's birthday cake

 

I really cannot believe that Jude is already 20 months old as of today. What an eventful day! I don't know how it's possible that his birthday is in just four months. I still feel like we just recently had his first birthday! Time is seriously going much too quickly. He is growing up too fast. I'm thrilled he's growing up at all, but I wish I could stop time and live these days in slow motion. I miss my tiny baby that's swiftly growing into a little boy. I could go on and on but I'm quite certain that's another blog post in itself.

Today was a lovely family day. There could never be enough of those. :)

Avery's 3rd Birthday

{To read Avery's birth story, written on her first birthday, please click here.}

I am sure I've already said it but I still can't believe it's been three years since Avery came silently into this world. It sounds so much longer ago than it feels.

Avery's day this year was gentler at first than I expected. Daniel, Jude, and I went out for the day. We stopped at Old Navy to buy Jude a shirt for St. Patrick's Day this weekend. Daniel and I can never help browsing over the girls' clothes, and today was no exception. I mentally pick out outfits I wish I could buy for Avery... ones that could hang in her closet... ones I would love to wash a fold... ones I'd give anything to watch her run and play in.

We settled on a green polo for Jude, since the boys' section is almost always lacking the same kind of cuteness as the girls' clothes. From there, we had lunch together at Texas Roadhouse. It's always strange going out on this day... We're not celebrating something... not quite. But in my family, we always go out for dinner on our birthdays and I guess I don't want Avery's to be an exception.

When I'm out in public on this day, I can't help but think about how isolated I feel, watching strangers around me. They have no idea that this day is the day I gave birth to my dead daughter. As the host asked me how I was, and I generically answered, "Fine, how are you?" he had no clue what today actually was for me and how I actually am. When the waitress thanked us at the end of our meal and told us to have a great night, she had no idea we'd be spending the evening in a cemetery, releasing balloons for our absent baby girl. I know everyone has their own story and their own trials and pains, but so often, I feel so alone. I feel like there aren't many people like me around here, in my day to day life.

After we ate, we stopped at Michael's to buy Avery some decorations for her stone. Jude was getting bored so Daniel took him outside. I browsed the aisle's on my own, picking out a few Easter decorations for next week. I remembered to check out the yard decor section. As I looked through, finding a pretty white ceramic bird on clearance, I thought about how pathetic it was that I was shopping for my daughter's birthday presents in the garden section... that essentially, we get to buy her lawn ornaments. It's an empty feeling, really. But it's all we have. It's the only way we can take care of her and treat her.

Next came Publix, the grocery store, for balloons, fresh flowers, and a small cake. This part always stresses me out. I don't like being asked whose birthday it is. I don't like having to feel the awkwardness that ensues when I answer honestly that the balloons are for a release for our daughter. I am aware that I don't have to disclose anything about the function, but in past times when I have tried to be vague, it has backfired and turned out worse than just telling the basic truth. Thankfully, the woman who filled the balloons, the woman at the bakery, and the cashier didn't pry. Jude even got his own little balloon to keep him busy while we waited for the 13 we needed. It was his first balloon and we had to tie it to his belt loop.

My family and Daniel's met at the cemetery at 7:00 pm. My cousin, Rachel, came this year, which I loved. She and I have grown extra close in the past year. I'm almost 12 years older than her, but as she's growing up, she's quickly becoming a close friend. Even though she's only 17, and not even a mother, she somehow has this compassion and understanding for the life I live. She's very sensitive to it and she loves Avery as if she knew her inside and out. Not many people care the way she does and I cherish that.

We each wrote a message for Avery on our balloons. Jude wanted to explore so it was a bit more difficult this year, but we managed. I'm usually surprisingly affected by releasing the balloons to Heaven but I was too distracted this time. I guess that makes it easier. We decorated Avery's spot with some pink roses, a tiara, a bird statue, a new pinwheel, and a pink stuffed bunny. I think it looked very sweet, though of course not as sweet as she would have looked if she was here to enjoy her birthday.

 

We take a family photo each year in front of Avery's plot. This year, it didn't turn out so well. Jude had no interest in posing. It was windy and chilly and getting dark. And we just weren't in the genuine smile mood. I guess this photo shows our mood quite well. But it's real. And I like that.

My dad took us out for pizza afterwards and that was nice. No matter how "well" the day goes, it's still not what I wish it was. It's never going to be what it's supposed to be. That's the problem. March 13th should mean nothing to us. Avery was supposed to be born at the end of June. She was supposed to be my summer baby. But instead, we're stuck with the "should have beens" and "what ifs" and Sharpie scrawled balloons in a cold cemetery at dusk to "celebrate" her birthday. I can't get over how ugly that is. I can't get over how scarring and wrong it is to survive her.

So each year, and every day in between, we remember her. We honor our daughter because that's all we can do. We are left with almost nothing. We cling to all the pieces we can. Keeping her alive through these special dates, remembering the short time she was here, beneath my heart, is the least we can do for the little girl who changed our world. She made me a mother, made Daniel a father. She waits for us in Heaven. We will hold her again. So I won't forget her. I won't stop loving her and missing her. She is mine.

Happy birthday, sweet Avery... As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.

Day 12: The Day Before Goodbye

Again, I am sharing a post I wrote two years ago, on the first anniversary of this difficult day:

March 12th - The day of waiting and induction

Today, last year, was another hard day. It was the day between the knowledge of death and the day of birth. We started off this day very weary and emotionally broken. I had not slept. We had to be at my doctor's office to meet with my OB early, around 9:00am if I remember right. (Times are the only trouble I have in my memory of these days. I recall the events perfectly, but minutes and hours melt together and I couldn't tell you what time many things occurred.)

It was very painful to sit in my doctor's office, waiting. The place where I had just been only three days before for a routine visit was now a place of torment. Pregnant women everywhere, while my baby lay dead inside of my womb. Of course, the office would have to be busy today. Finally, I was called back and Daniel and I followed the nurse to a room where we sat and waited for the doctor.

She was very kind to us and was visibly broken for us. She said she went through my chart over and over again to see if there was something she had missed but could not figure out why our baby had died. I could tell this was something that bothered her, that she felt she had failed us as a doctor. I didn't feel this was her fault though. According to ultrasound techs (at a separate facility) Avery was doing just fine.

We decided to go through with inducing and the nurse's assistant got on the phone with the labor and delivery department at the hospital just around the corner to set up a time. The first available delivery suite wouldn't be ready for me until 6:30 that evening. A long day of waiting. Waiting for the most bittersweet moments a person could possibly experience. The birth of a dead child.

We went back to my parents' house since they live no more than five minutes from the hospital. We took our places on the couch where we had sat all the day before and just cried and shared our thoughts. I broke down over and over again, thinking of all the things I had lost. First smiles, first laughs, first crawls, first steps, first words... So many things that some take for granted as just being typical life. Family frequently called my dad to see how we were doing. I couldn't bear to talk to anyone.

Then my dad was on the phone with his friend, who owns a funeral home. He would be the one to come and pick Avery up from the hospital. He wanted to know what our preferences were for the funeral. We had to pick what color her casket would be. (We chose white.) And then, he needed to know her name for the obituary.

At this point, we hadn't chosen a definite name for our little girl. Only two weeks before, at our last ultrasound, we were given an '80-90% chance' that she was a girl. Up until this point, we'd been considering Sawyer for her, but hadn't made it definite since I was afraid others would think it was too boyish. So when thinking about our sweet little girl, Sawyer just didn't fit anymore. I thought through my mental list of favorite names, back to the one we loved originally. I started to cry when I thought of it. "I want to name her Avery," I told Daniel. He immediately agreed. We decided to give her my name as her middle name, as a way to have a piece of me with her. Avery Nicole. We had just named our baby.

The day went on. So much crying. So much agony. Awaiting what was to come that evening. I hadn't eaten in almost two days. The thought of doing so made me so incredibly sad, thinking about how Avery used to share my food with me and now she no longer would. Regardless, I forced myself to eat half of a bagel, figuring I may need some energy for that night. Who knows how much pushing and labor I may have to go through. My attempt failed, however, because I threw it up almost immediately.

Suddenly, it was somehow time for us to go to the hospital. My parents drove us there and my brothers and Daniel's family would be meeting us a bit later. I had my mom check in for me and tell the front desk why I was there, but even she could barely get through the words. My amazing nurse, Daniele, appeared and called me to her side to show me to my room. She put her arm so lovingly around me and I just leaned against her and started sobbing once again. She knew exactly what I was going through. Not too many years ago, she had a baby girl who died shortly after birth. It felt nice to have someone there who understood this pain.

In my room, I had to change into a gown. I went into the bathroom and just started crying all over again. I had always dreamed of coming to one of these rooms to have my own baby, instead of just being here to visit everyone else's. Finally, I was here to deliver my baby, but it was all wrong. So wrong. She would not be coming home with us like everyone else's has. This was not the happy moment it was supposed to be, the excitement of bringing a crying chubby pink baby into the world, our eyes about to meet for the first time. No one would bring 'It's A Girl!' balloons or stuffed animals. No one was celebrating her life... just mourning her death before she was even here. When I think back on these horrific moments, I feel so insulted by some of the women who complain at the end of their pregnancy, who are upset that their baby hasn't come when they wanted them to, acting like it's a huge cross to bear. I understand that one could become impatient since it's uncomfortable to be that large and that pregnant, but there's a difference between being uncomfortable and being ungrateful. And also the people who sympathize with the ingrates and act as if the woman is enduring something terrible by having to wait longer. Really? If you are going to be pushing out a living child that you get to take home and watch grow up, then you deserve no pity. Go through labor to deliver a dead baby and leave the hospital empty-handed and then see how 'miserable' you feel. End of rant.

Once in bed, I'd been given the medication to begin inducing labor, which was administered in a very uncomfortable and violating manner (that I will not speak of) every three hours. It was probably about 7pm at this time. Daniele stayed with me even after her shift ended. She told us the story of her baby girl and even brought some humor into the room. I actually smiled. I felt guilty at first, but realized how amazing it felt to be distracted enough to show positive emotions. Another nurse, who'd lost a son due to preterm labor, came in. She had been one of the nurses who had tried to find Avery's heartbeat the day before. She brought in a crocheted blanket and matching hat for Avery to wear when she was born. I remember thinking that the hat looked so tiny and there was no way she was going to be that small, not according to her gestational age. I would find out later that that same hat would be much too big and we'd end up with an even smaller one.

Soon, my brothers, and Daniel's parents and siblings had arrived, followed by my aunt and uncle. Everyone just sat around, some trying to lighten the mood. I could hear a brand new baby just on the other side of the wall, crying. Every time I heard that little one, tears poured down my face. I knew my little one would never cry. She would come silently into this world, just as silently as she left it.

Every hour I had to get up to use the restroom. Every time I'd drag my IV pole inside and shut the door, all the emotions would flood in all over again. Maybe it was being alone that did it. But I would look at myself in the mirror, hold my belly and just hate and dread everything. I got extremely upset when I began bleeding. Pregnant women aren't supposed to bleed. But technically I wasn't pregnant anymore. This medication was taking my baby away from me. She wasn't supposed to be gone. Each time I exited the bathroom, my eyes fell upon the the little, wheeled hospital bed that the babies are supposed to sleep in. Seeing that pierced my heart every time. I knew my baby would not be using that. In fact, it would only be used to wheel her out of the room for the last time. Thankfully, I couldn't see it from my bed.

Hours passed and I could feel my contractions. They got more and more painful as the time went on. I wanted to brave them without any pain medication for as long as possible. I was allowed to have an epidural if I chose, but I knew I didn't want that. Not this time. I'd save that for a bigger baby, I thought. I remember thinking that I wanted to feel the pain. I wanted to hurt for Avery. I had no idea if she suffered but if she had at all, then I wanted to suffer some too. I waited almost seven hours before I finally asked for pain medication. I waited until they hurt bad enough to make me cry. I could no longer be distracted from why I was here.

By this time it was 1:30am. My nurse gave me some pain medicine and sleeping pills so I could finally get some rest. It had been a while since I'd slept. All of my family, except Daniel and my mom left for the night. I felt so tired but even with the drugs, my mind kept working. I wondered when Avery would finally come and what she would look like. I was so afraid of how much it would hurt to see her and so quickly say goodbye. Trading a lifetime with her for just a few hours. Eventually, I fell asleep, but it was definitely not peaceful.

 

Day 5: Happy Memories

In early March of 2010, Daniel and I tagged along on a fun outing to celebrate his father's birthday. Daniel's brother and sister came along too. We went to place that had a go cart track, rides, and arcade games. I was 24 weeks pregnant with Avery so I wasn't allowed on any of the rides-- not even the little carousel!

It was a beautiful day. The weather was perfect. I spent a lot of time sitting by myself while I waited for Daniel and his family to finish each ride. I didn't mind waiting. I sat there thinking about my sweet baby, dreaming of her arrival. Dreaming of holding her and seeing her face. I felt so content even through my impatience. I can't believe how vividly I remember sitting there, watching the carousel, picturing that one day my little girl would ride one, laughing and smiling. I pictured her with curls like her dad.

Every few minutes, Daniel would speed by me on the go cart track and each time he would smile real big and blow me a kiss as he passed by. I loved seeing him enjoy himself and have fun. At the time, he was working three jobs so leisure time was scarce. But his joyful grins and boyish excitement made me so happy that day, knowing all of the beautiful moments that were ahead of us with coming birth of our first baby.

We all had dinner at Hard Rock Cafe. I had chicken fajitas with lots of guacamole, one of my most common cravings when I was pregnant with Avery. I remember as we walked to the car, Daniel's sister asked me what baby kicks feel like. And I told her they feel exactly what you'd think they feel like. I didn't know she should have been kicking much harder than that by then. And I didn't know I'd stop feeling her in just a matter of days.

But on this day, all of those horrors were far away in the unknown, not yet a part of reality or my world. I like to think back to the days before I knew this could happen to us. Before I knew we'd have to face life without her and all of the things we thought we would share with her. I like to remember the joy and the excitement and not only remember the pain and the grief. Avery deserves that. She should never be diminished to a source of agony or a sad story. She is my firstborn, the first to hear my heartbeat from the inside. She made me a mother and she will always be the joy of my heart.

Torn

I ran into two different things today that made me question blogging altogether. I am actually torn over whether or not to continue doing so, despite the fact that it's been something I enjoy and something that has been very beneficial to me emotionally.

On Instagram, a mother of three, who is a gifted and inspiring author and blogger, was berated by a very rude person, who ridiculed her for giving her children no privacy and claimed that she was exploiting them and her life and was openly boycotting her. All of the mother's followers defended her and stuck by her side but the words were still said and I'm sure they bothered her to some degree. I don't think she has done anything wrong or has disrespected her children by sharing her life (with them included) on her popular blog. But someone else did. And reading her comment and the comments in response to it made me feel like I couldn't breathe. How would I be able to handle something like that if it was directed at me?! Where do you draw the line on over sharing anyway?

The second thing I happened to run into today was an article from a mom blogger who found that a photo of her children was taken from her blog and altered in a way that made it disturbingly vulgar. She warned readers of the creeps that linger online and reminded fellow bloggers to be extra careful. But how careful can you be?

I post many photos of Jude on my blog and of course there are a sacred few of Avery that are very sensitive in nature. Can these photos fall into the wrong hands? Is there anyone out there that can hurt us with our own photos? I don't post anything questionable, like nude bath photos so does that keep my blog safe? Does anyone even read it anyway? And if no one really reads it, what's the point of putting us out there for disgusting people to defile? I've had my concerns about this before. Maybe I was right in that all along.

There is a part of me that feels like I'm slowly cutting myself off from the world. I don't really have many friends anymore. It's been ten months since I have regularly used Facebook. My Instagram account is private and I am picky about who I allow to follow me. (So what makes my blog so different? Photos that are kept private on my Instagram are posted freely on this blog for anyone in the world to see.) I've always been creative and enjoyed expressing myself. If I stop doing that, what would happen? Nothing. Probably nothing. I think I would just miss it.

But I wouldn't miss the worrying. I wouldn't miss being nervous that I said too much or that I would insult someone who didn't understand my grief-induced ranting. I don't feel like I have made a difference with my writing and my sharing. I haven't helped anyone. So maybe all I'm doing is leaving the door open to any creep who could gawk at my family. It's sad that the world is so ugly. It's pathetic that these things are even an issue.

So I'm not sure what I will do in the future. If I do continue, I just may not share so many photos. I can always write offline where I know my words are safe. And so is my family.

Jude's 2nd Christmas

Jude makes everything amazing. His presence enhances even the smallest detail of a day. He adds joy where it's missing. This year, Christmas was a bit of a sore spot in our family with Poppop gone. It was our first Christmas without him. Poppop always loved Christmas and you could see the joy on his face as he sat back and watched his large family enjoy his gifts and each other. There was definitely a void this Christmas Eve... I'm so grateful Jude is here to distract us from those that are always missing. My little girl. My grandpa. Holidays can be rough, but they can also be so beautiful.

Jude with my amazing cousin, Rachel

 

 

My sweet Grammy and my Dad. She looked so beautiful in her lovely new coat. She kept talking about how much she enjoyed watching her family and she marveled at the fact that all of the people in the room were there because of her and Poppop. So many lives exist because the two of them came together. What an amazing thing to accomplish in life, to build such a legacy through such a large family. What an honorable thing to do with your life. I wish I could do the same!

 

 

Our family. This was the best we could get Jude to cooperate. There were way cooler things going on at the moment than smiling for yet another photo! ;)

 

 

Beautiful boy in his Santa jammies.

 

 

My parents got Jude some very wonderful gifts. Of course, he loved playing with the wrapping paper and boxes, like most children do! He seemed more interested in opening presents when they were in my room waiting for him for Christmas, than when they were purposely put before him to open. But that's okay! I'm sure he will tear into them next year!

 

 

Jude loved his new truck from my parents! He laughed and squealed the entire time we pushed him around in it. I love his joy.

 

 

Christmas dinner with Daniel's family. Jude enjoyed his fun gifts from Daniel's parents. He loves "singing" into that microphone!

 

Another Christmas has quickly come and gone. I'm a bit sad that it's already over and we're returning to normal life. I can't believe 2012 is coming to an end. It's been another crazy year. Hoping next year will finally be the uneventful year we've been waiting for! Regardless, I love my little family and I love sharing life with them. There's nothing better!

 

 

Wild Wonderland

Last night, Daniel and I took Jude to Lowry Park Zoo, where they had their Christmas event, Wild Wonderland. The moment we walked through the gate, we knew we'd made a good choice. I hadn't known what to expect. I hadn't been to the zoo since I was a kid. But they went above and beyond my expectations and the night was amazing! Jude loved every little bit, even for a 16 month old. It felt magical and exciting, the perfect thing to do as a little family enjoying Christmas time.

 

 Just like last year, Jude didn't show much interest in Santa, maintaining a straight face the entire time. He did seem a little confused as to why we were handing him off to some strange, hairy, red and white character. I wonder what he thinks of all these things. :)

 Jude also got to experience his very first ride last night! The three of us rode the carousel together. Jude got to ride a zebra and he loved it so much. We could just see the excitement and enjoyment on his face as he gripped the bar and kicked his legs. He looked all around at the lights as the zebra went up and down and we went around and around. I savored the simple moment, just watching his face.

A random stranger was nice enough to stop and ask if she could take our picture for us. I thought that was so kind of her. She told us Merry Christmas and that we were the cutest little family. How nice that there is still warmth in the world, when lately it seems so full of cold darkness.

Jude's absolute favorite part of the night was the fake snow flurries. They were really little sud clusters, but they really did look like snowflakes. Jude kept reaching up for them and trying to grab them. It was the highlight of my night, again watching the joy on his little face, experiencing something new and exciting for the first time.

The night went so quickly. I wished it could have lasted forever! We will definitely be making this an annual trip!

I love sharing these special moments with Jude. It's so beautiful. To be a parent and watch your child learn the world for the first time. To experience things he's never seen. It's the greatest gift there is.

Merry Christmas, Darling

We've been spending a great deal of time lately 'decking the halls' and shopping for gifts. Christmas has always been my favorite time of year but for the last two years, it's been both happy and sad. Both joyous and lacking. I savor all of the warmth the season brings into our home and the excitement that hangs in the air, but another emotion lingers over us always during these festive days.

Avery isn't here.

Her stocking hangs between mine and her brother's. She has several ornaments gracing our tree. But she will never share in this special holiday with us. The closest thing to having her here was when I was pregnant with her for Christmas of 2009. I kept saying excitedly how it was our last Christmas without our baby when actually, it was our only Christmas with her.

As I watch Jude marvel over these new and amazing sights, I wonder how Avery would love it all. What would be her favorite parts of our traditions? What would be on her Christmas wish list? Surely, she would have helped us decorate the tree last night. Even if she dropped and broke a few ornaments, I'd be glad to let her help. To see the twinkling lights illuminate her little face. To watch her smile in awe as she watched the tree come to life with color and beauty. I know she would've enjoyed it. The Christmas cookies we'd bake. The Christmas movies we'd watch. The Christmas dresses she'd wear. I'm sure she would have looked beautiful on our Christmas card, nestled right in between us, next to her brother. And she'd probably help Daddy plug in the Christmas lights outside each evening and light up as the lights did.

Christmas, although beautiful and magical, will always be missing something. I'll always wonder about that empty space in our family and my imagination will always fill it as I drift off into the 'if only's. I especially wish that Jude could share the excitement of Christmas with his sister, just the way I always did with my brothers. It makes me sad for him, though he'll never know differently and won't realize what he's missing. But I will. It'll always be there in the back of my mind. His singularity, his technical only child-ness.

I try not to focus on the negative aspects. I want to enjoy our blessings more than grieve our losses. It's not as raw as it used to be. The first Christmas without Avery was agonizing. It was ugly and anything but joyful. The season's beauty practically mocked our pain. I'm so grateful that our hearts have come a long way since then, but our love has not faded. The way we miss our little girl has not changed. We'll always wish she was here. I guess in a way she is, living on in the spirit of her little brother, who is here because of her.

I often think about where Avery is spending Christmas instead. And I think about what Christmas is all about in the first place... Celebrating the birth of Christ. Avery gets to celebrate the birth of Jesus with Him. She is there with Jesus Himself, among the songs of the angels, sharing in His birthday celebration. What an amazing joyous sight that must be.

Merry Christmas darling, we're apart that's true
But I can dream and in my dreams, I'm Christmas-ing with you...

Jude's 2nd Thanksgiving

I miss how magical the holidays felt when I was a kid. It seems now, I spend more time in disbelief that the certain date has so quickly rolled around once again than I do really feeling festive! Maybe that's just part of growing up. Don't get me wrong. I look forward to these times. It's my favorite time of the year. I love and thoroughly enjoy all the decorating and the baking and the family gatherings. But now it's my job to make sure Jude feels the joy and the magic that every kid should feel. To remind him to be thankful for what he has and who he is. He's too young now to understand but I'm looking forward to the years to come, to see the excitement in Jude's eyes on these special family days. All the beautiful memories we're going to make together. What a blessing. So much to be thankful for!!

This year, Thanksgiving was different for my family with Poppop gone. It was the first thing I thought about as the day loomed. It would be the first time our family gathered without him. I must admit, as I mixed the filling for my pumpkin pie bars that morning, and "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" was playing in the living room, I lost it. The line "Through the years we all will be together" was what did it. Through the years we all have been together. Now it's changed. It's another new normal that we have to accept in life. Just like having a dead daughter has become normal for me. But for now, it's sometimes unbelievable. That all of Jude's firsts were all of my grandpa's lasts. Life is strange and hard and sometimes very ugly, but it's also very beautiful. And family is the best part.

Things may not always be as magical as I imagined they would be when I was a kid, but no matter who or what I have lost, no matter the struggles or triumphs, there is always always so much to be thankful for. There is love and life in my home. And that is more than enough.

Capture Your Grief : Day 27 // Artwork

Today's post calls for artwork that reminds me of Avery, or something that was made for her by me or someone else. I pondered for a while, thinking of photos that people have sent me of Avery's name in the sand or carved into a tree. Maybe my Molly Bear or my Heart to Hold. Then it came to me... the most precious and amazing thing anyone has ever done to honor Avery. A song written just for her.

My brother-in-law, Andy, Daniel's younger brother, wrote a beautiful song called "The News Hits Me So Hard." One night last summer, right before Jude was born, he (and his wife) came over just to play it for us on his guitar. Daniel and I were so touched by that. Andy has such an undeniable, God-given talent, and the fact that he used it to honor our baby girl, his niece, blesses my broken heart more than I can describe.

{Listen to Andy's song right here}

The News Hits Me So Hard

By: Andy Feller

 

The news hits me so hard
My brother's baby girl won't make it out alive
This feeling of helplessness overtakes me
I don't know why this happened but I miss you, Avery

Mommy and Daddy are so proud of you
Even though they missed your first word and step
God knows I believe that you're singing and dancing in His holy presence

We love you so much
We hate to say goodbye
Those tiny hands hold our hearts so tight
Don't you worry, we'll hold you soon
But till then, don't forget that

We love you
We miss you
We wish you were here with us

Even when the waves are crashing down
You're still good
God, You're so good

The news hits me so hard
My brother's baby girl won't make it out alive
This feeling of helplessness overtakes me
I don't know why this happened but we miss you, Avery

 

 



Capture Your Grief : Day 24 // Siblings

After we lost Avery, I couldn't imagine a day when I'd be okay with offering up my womb to another child. I knew I wanted to have more children one day, but in the depths of my grief, I couldn't fathom emotionally surviving it.

Surprisingly, it was only three months before Daniel and I decided we were ready to try again to make Avery a big sister. It took us nine long cycles to conceive Jude. Each month was another slap in the face. It was easy to worry that Avery would be the only child we could ever have. But finally, on January 21, 2011, we found out Jude was on his way.

It was a beautiful and horrific 31 weeks, but Jude made it. And he came to stay.

I wish Avery and Jude could grow up together, the way that I have grown up with my brothers. Because I had siblings, I always had friends. It makes me so sad to think that it's more probable than not that Jude will grow up alone. Whenever I see a big sister and a little brother together, I can't help but think of my kids and how they are supposed to be together.

We will raise Jude to know who Avery is and to love his big sister as if he knew her himself. She will always be special in our home. She will always be a part of our family. And she will always be Jude's big sister.