Jude's 2 Year Photos {by Mommy}

I purchased a cardboard block letter from Hobby Lobby a couple of weeks ago and painted it red for a little outdoor photo session with Jude on Friday evening. It was terribly hot, Jude wanted to run around and play instead of pose, and he didn't care much for the boring photo prop, but I am definitely satisfied with the shots that I did get of him. It was nearly "golden hour," my favorite time of the day, and my boy was oh so handsome. While I was following him around, snapping away, he randomly gave me a flower for the very first time. This mama's heart was overjoyed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I love you, my beautiful boy.

Goodbye, Bailey

 

On June 10th, our beloved pug of 13 years, passed away.  He had been deaf for some time and his health was deteriorating quickly so it wasn't much of a surprise that it was his time to go. I always feared losing Bailey in all the years we loved him, but when it finally happened, it was admittedly not the tragedy I had pictured. 

I remember when we got Bailey. In January of 2000, my parents came to pick me up from school (I was in 10th grade) and when I approached my mom, she had something furry sticking out of her coat that she was trying to keep closed. I'll never forget when he popped his little face out and I saw him for the first time. He was so cute and tiny, almost silly to look at. I paraded him around to my friends, so proud of my cute new friend. 

It took us a couple days but we finally all agreed on Bailey's name (Parker and Cyrus were also in the running). I spent his first night on the floor outside of his cage while he cried in between sleeping. It didn't take long for Bailey to get his chubbiness that we loved, exaggerating his wrinkles even further. He was fun and sweet, chasing my little brothers around the house. He would come running the second you called his name. He loved treats and pizza crust the best. I loved how he always wanted to be where we were. If you left the room, he followed, just to be close by. 

Bailey was never aggressive, never threatening. He was the perfect dog for us. He lived with Daniel and me for 14 months after we got married. He was such a good sport, moving to a new place and then moving back home after our new landlords didn't allow pets. 

I always loved Bailey's snoring and I'll miss that. He was always wagging his tail... even up until the last minute. What a good boy. It's hard to believe he's gone now, the last piece of childhood faded away. 

Now, I have personal insight to the whole 'comparing losing a pet to losing a baby' issue that exists in the baby loss community. I have come across so many women who have had someone try to comfort them by saying they can relate since they lost their dog. I had that said to me as well. Now, after losing Bailey, I can honestly say that it is not the same thing whatsoever. Yes, I was sad losing Bailey. At times I felt like he was my baby, but that was before I ever had my own baby. It is very different to birth a child that is your flesh and blood, than to raise an animal in your home. Losing Bailey did not paralyze me in any way. Losing my daughter has marred me for life. It does seem that the people who try to compare it don't have children of their own. They must not, because then they would understand what they're saying. I hope that doesn't offend anyone, but I have yet to meet a bereaved parent who has not been hurt by that false sentiment. The life of our children cannot be compared to that of an animal or anything else. No two losses are the same. Comparisons are not necessary, no matter what they are.  It's okay for someone to consider their pet to be their child, but they cannot assume that someone else would hold their pet to the same esteem as their lost child.

So, with that tidbit of recently affirmed knowledge, I say goodbye to a dear old friend, who made life sweet and memories sweeter. We love you, Bailey!

Jude's 2nd Haircut

We finally gave in and decided to let go of Jude's longer hair. It's been a while since anyone has mistaken him for a girl, so that's not the reason this time, but lately, during his baths, when all of his hair is slicked back, wet, away from his little face, I'd been wishing he could look like that all the time. We bought him some kids hair gel, but it was just too long to stay any way we styled it. We already know what Jude looks like at this age with long hair, but not with short, cute, styled hair. That was how I decided to part with Jude's returning curls once again. Tonight, we had our hairdresser sister-in-law, Margaret, cut it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A part of me was afraid I'd regret having Jude's hair cut so short, but when I saw how cute he looked with his hair styled, I fell in love all over again. He looks so different! But oh so handsome. I love his little face. You can definitely see it (and his little ears and sweet little neck) much better! I love my little cutie!

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. :)

New Ink

I finally did it! I got my tattoo for my little boy. I've been wanting to get his name done for quite some time now. After much font searching and deciding, I got it done Tuesday, the 19th. I love it. Now I've got tributes to both of my children and that makes me very happy.

I'm so proud of Jude. He is the light of my life. He is the joy in my heart. He is my world. His name so delicately etched on my arm is my way to honor him and his importance in my life. He saved me from my despair. He was strong and stayed here with me. He is my little hero. I can't even express how much I love him. He graces this world with every little smile. I know he's going to do amazing things. I'm proud to bear his name on my skin.

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 11: Falling From Cloud 9

Today, three years ago, is the day we found out we'd lost Avery. The day of the ultrasound that showed her still, lifeless little body. The day we found out I'd have to deliver her. There really isn't anything else that I can write for today that I haven't written before. I decided to just repost what I blogged on Avery's blog on this day two years ago, on the very first anniversary. It may be of special interest to newer readers who may not know the whole story. But first, I would like to share a photo from today when we took Jude to visit his big sister.

Originally posted on The Avery Diaries on March 11, 2010:

March 11th - The hardest day

Today, a year ago, our whole world came crashing down. Last night, a year ago, I had the strangest feeling that something was wrong. Heart palpitations all evening. Worry. Out of nowhere, really. Then, it all escalated into tears and a small panic attack. I believe in my heart that that's when our sweet girl was leaving us for Heaven. My body and my heart knew. But my mind wouldn't until the following day.

It was Thursday, March 11, 2010... I had called my mom and told her my concerns. She thought it would be best to go to labor and delivery at the hospital just for peace of mind. After all, we did have a date later to see Dear John at the movies together. So Daniel and I went. I felt kind of silly, assuming I didn't know what I was talking about since this was my first baby. But I needed to hear that Avery was fine and I didn't care if they thought I was paranoid.

After an agonizing wait, which was probably not half as long as it felt, they called us back and hooked me up to a fetal monitor. Well, they tried to. They couldn't pick up a heartbeat and decided to go with a regular fetal doppler. Three different nurses tried their hand at it. None of them said anything but I could see it in their faces that this was not good. Plus I knew Avery. In the doctor's office, her heartbeat was always found so quickly. Still, I refused to entertain the thought that she was gone. I couldn't handle that.

They sent me over to ultrasound and I got on the table, actually feeling a little excited to see our baby on the screen. A part of me was still hoping that the doppler issue was a fluke and that the ultrasound would show us a healthy beautiful girl. But she was so still. She looked so cloudy, faded. Two different techs looked for a heartbeat. I could see the flatline across the screen as they typed 'NO FHT.' No fetal heart tone. They weren't allowed to tell me Avery was gone, but I knew it. The techs left Daniel and I alone for a moment and I turned to him and finally beginning to cry, I said, "I'm going to have to deliver her." His eyes welled up, "No," he answered, still not wanting to believe it.
The tech returned and told me to go to the restroom. I remember it so perfectly. I felt like I was in a dream. I closed the bathroom door behind me and looked at myself in the mirror. I whispered, "This is the worst day of my life." Then I added, "My baby is dead." That's when I started crying more. To say it, to admit it... I knew it was true.

 

They took us back to OB and had us wait in an empty delivery suite. I looked around the room, knowing I wouldn't be coming to one of these rooms with joy. I would come back here to say goodbye. In a few moments, a nurse, Daniele, entered the room. Her face said everything. I was already crying. She came right up to me, knelt down in front of me and just pulled me to her. That is when I lost it, sobbing and sobbing. And that's when she finally said it. She told me 'the baby is gone.' I really don't think I've ever cried that hard before or since. It was truly the most devastating and painful moment of my life.

Daniele and another nurse, Vicki, told us our options. We could stay and I could be induced to deliver right then. Or I could go home, meet with my doctor in the morning and decide when to come back. It was all too much, too soon. We decided to come back the following day. I couldn't part with our sweet girl just yet. The nurses left the room for a moment and Daniel called the pizza place he delivered for at that time to tell them he wouldn't make it in that night. I started crying all over again when I heard him tell his boss, "I just found out my baby died." It hurt me so much to hear him say that. I hated that he was hurting so much. But Avery is something we share together.

One of my biggest memories from that day is when I called my mom. I dreaded her answering because I knew I was about to shatter her world too. "Mom... she's dead," was all I could manage to say through my tears. "No, don't tell me that," she answered, immediately crying. I don't remember much else from our conversation, but I know I told her they couldn't find a heartbeat and the ultrasound confirmed she was gone. I'm sure I told her we decided to come back 'tomorrow' to induce and deliver. My father was appalled that I had to deliver a dead baby. But that was the reality of it.

After we left the hospital, we went straight to my parents' house. My parents and two of my brothers met us at the door. I broke down all over again when I saw them and they each hugged me. It all just felt so awful. More than awful. There is no word for it.
We spent the rest of the day and evening sitting in the living room. I cried all day and night, wishing I could be consoled. I just kept thinking about how my sweet little baby was dead inside of me. I hated it so much. I felt so much dread and sadness. I was afraid of what the next day would bring. So much pain. So much devastation.

I'll never forget how my dad wanted to try anything he could to help me. He ran out and got me a liter of Mountain Dew, my favorite drink of all time, and Doritos and a Butterfinger, which are a couple other favorites. I couldn't bear to eat, but I did allow myself to have the soda. I stayed away from caffeine through my pregnancy so it was nice to have it. Little good my caffeine avoidance had done.

That night, when Daniel and I finally got home, we got into bed. We cried for a while, holding each other so miserably. It was pretty late. Daniel is blessed to be able to fall asleep easily no matter what. I, on the other hand, was awake all night. I cried and cried. I pictured how the next day would go and what it might be like to see our baby. How would she look? Would it be disturbing? Would she look normal? Would she look beautiful and perfect? So many questions and worry. But most of all I was just afraid of how much it would hurt my heart to go through that. The labor to deliver a child is worth it, but to deliver a baby who is not coming home with you is a like a kick in the face.

Of all the days surrounding Avery's death and birth, this day was the hardest. Finding out that the baby I had waited my whole life to have was gone, was really and truly the very worst thing that I have ever been through. Sometimes I still cannot believe that this happened to us and that our sweet little girl is not here. Today is hard for me, reliving the day and remembering exactly how I felt to know our baby died. I will never forget that.

Thank you for reading. These days are so sacred to me.

Day 10: Together Again

I found this quote on Pinterest recently and I've fallen in love with it. Nothing delights my heart more than the thought of being with Avery and sharing my life with her. To think that she is aware of me and loves me as deeply as I love her brings me joy.

I am comforted by picturing her in Heaven, as a beautiful little girl, running and laughing through that field of wildflowers, like the kind that grow here along the roads as Spring rolls in, during golden hour when the sun is low and everything is bathed in a glorious light. In this daydream, she knows me. She remembers that she's mine. She's just my curious, excited daughter, running ahead to explore, trying to catch a butterfly that's almost as pretty as she is.

One day, my time will come and I will leave this world. I'll find myself at the edge of that field of flowers and my eyes will find my Avery, smiling and laughing. I will know her immediately because she is mine. Immediately my heart will be whole. She will turn around and her face will light up, brighter than Heaven's sky, when her eyes meet her mama's. She'll run toward me, her curls glowing. Then finally, I will take her in my arms once again, tears of awaited joy streaming down my face. Her embrace will erase all the earthly pain I have endured without her. It'll be just a foggy distant remnant of my brief life on Earth. Avery and I will walk off, hand in hand, to sing with the angels and bask in the company of Jesus.

This will be our eternity, together forever, a Heavenly family, slowly joined by all those we love, and finding those we've lost before. This endless time of perfect beauty will one day be reality. Avery is already a part of it, taking it all in. She's just waiting for me across the field.