tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86477305453727007632024-03-05T17:42:37.759-05:00Our Lives Forever ChangedIn loving memory of our beautiful little peanut, Grace Isabelle, who was born perfectly peaceful and still on August 1, 2009.
In honor of all angel babies and their families.
For the education of those who have never experienced such a loss.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.comBlogger201125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-63128683158718047532015-02-12T15:41:00.001-05:002015-02-12T16:19:47.274-05:00FURTHER ON DOWN THE ROAD<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">SILENCE</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I write this
entry knowing that it might be the last time that I post here in this
space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided to write it because of
the potential for increased reader traffic over the next few weeks, and a
strong sense that the written account of my grief journey should somehow be
neatly wrapped up instead of just trailing off with no ‘ending.’</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> That said, I have contemplated taking this blog from being strictly
grief oriented to 'life in general' oriented, but I know that I don't
have the time to do so right now. I guess time will tell....</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For the
first three years following the stillbirth of our daughter, this blog was one
of the only things that kept me sane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
came here to purge my emotions and say anything I needed to say without having
to worry about fallout with those around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was a way to connect with other loss mothers, to both offer support
and find support when I needed it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the
last two and a half years this blog has been silent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There has been no activity here for multiple
reasons, but certainly not because I have had nothing to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, I sometimes walk around with a blog
post or two swirling around in my head, but there simply hasn’t been time to
get them down in writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life has been
busy (and getting busier), and there have been other things more pressing that
blogging, even with fully composed posts taking up valuable space in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps another reason for my silence is the
fact that eventually, there is nothing new to say; everything becomes a
reiteration of thoughts and feelings already expressed at some point in my
previous 200 posts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I think that,
even though some overwhelming moments have occasionally made their way to the
surface, for the most part, the acute phase of my grief has been consistently
waning over the last couple of years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
even though those rouge posts and a few new feelings have been floating in my
head, there hasn’t been a critically overwhelming need for me to purge those
words and feelings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would have been
nice to do so, but that overwhelming need just hasn’t been there…..most
days. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">YOU <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>CAN</u></i> SURVIVE AND YOU <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>WILL </u></i>SURVIVE</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In the
beginning, when your wounds are fresh and deep, everyone tells you that life
goes on, but sometimes that is the hardest part about grief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Especially baby loss grief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Going on is seemingly impossible, especially
in the early days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The path ahead seems
too long, dark and full of pit falls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For me, the darkest moments came in realizing that my initial support
system could not (or, in some cases, did not want to) relate to or understand
the depths of my grief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Darker moments
came as my shrinking support system returned to normal life and routine,
leaving me feeling like the universe was spinning out of control around my little
world, which had completely stopped turning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Equally dark moments came in realizing that my husband’s grief process
was nothing like my own and I had absolutely no idea what was happening in his
world, nor did he know or understand what was happening in mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As I have
walked this path and moved forward, I have fallen down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Especially in the first year or two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But over time the darkness was slowly replaced by light and I realized
that the path was not as impossible as I had initially thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The light came in the form finding a
fantastic perinatal loss support group locally, but also in discovering online
resources and ‘meeting’ people who could relate to and understand my
grief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brighter light came in realizing
that I was not alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The support of the
online baby loss community has been invaluable, and I have been so fortunate to
find some amazing friends who have made walking this path so much easier than
it could have been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knowing that these
women will be there with me for the remaining steps makes the remainder of the
journey seem entirely possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">(Some of
these words were borrowed from my friend, Dawn, because sometimes she lives in
my brain and gets the words out before I do….)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 64.5pt;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">HEALING….SOMEWHERE
OVER THE RAINBOW</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My husband
and I waited way too long to get married, and consequently, we waited far
longer than we should have to have kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We established long ago that we wanted three kids and that the last kid
had to be born before he turned 45.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Yeah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We made our deadline with only 53 days to
spare!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was 39 when Gracie was born,
so we didn’t have much time for healing before jumping back in and trying for
our rainbow babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was exactly 5
month between Gracie’s birth and the start of our next pregnancy, and
emotionally speaking, we were not even close to being ready for a subsequent
pregnancy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the most
nerve-racking 39 weeks of my life, as I was constantly waiting for the other
shoe to fall, but thanks to a fantastic midwife who actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">got it</i> and the support of other baby
loss parents who understood what we were going through, we made it to our
rainbow baby without any additional (serious) emotional damage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since then, we have rounded out our family
with two additional healthy rainbow babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are my world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are my
light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They will never replace Gracie,
but they help to heal my heart a little more each day, even now. They
constantly make me wonder what 5 year old Gracie would look like and what her
personality would be, but I would not trade them for anything in the
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These little girls are proof that,
even when you think you simply cannot take one more day or put one foot in
front of the other for even one more step, you can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You absolutely CAN.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are proof that there really is life on
the other side of loss, love on the other side of the rainbow, light after the
darkness, and joy after heartbreak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(A
few more words borrowed from Dawn.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Beyond the
healing that has come simply with time and the arrival of each of our rainbow
babies, we have worked to bring some positive out of our loss. As our society
slowly starts to break the taboo and people slowly start to realize how common
pregnancy and infant loss is, my husband and I have felt a strong need to help
people understand the best ways to support friends or family who might
experience loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More specifically, we
want to instill in people how to not be stupid in their attempts to offer
support (and if you have walked this path for any length of time, you will
understand that statement).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We want them
to understand that, unless they have walked this specific path, they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don’t and can’t </i>understand…and sometimes
a simple “I’m sorry for your loss” is far better than trying to say something
profound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Additionally, we are active
supporters of the March of Dimes, and we are active in our hospital’s perinatal
loss support group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In April, I will
complete Family Loss Advisor training in hopes that it will further improve the
support that I am able to offer to families who are just setting out on this
journey. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">WHAT GOES
FORWARD WITH US</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have
weathered and gotten through the worst parts of the storm, as has my husband,
but we took very different paths in getting to the other side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At times our paths couldn’t have been further
apart, and there were moments that it seemed like we were moving in opposite
directions, but we have gotten through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There should be no question, however, that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">through</i> does not mean <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">over</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We have accepted that Gracie is gone from physical life, we have moved
through the critical and unpleasantly inevitable stages of grief, and we have
continued to move forward with and live our lives, but we have certainly <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not </i>gotten <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">over</i> losing Gracie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will
never get <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">over</i> the death of our first
child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As we have
moved through the storm, certain aspects of our grief have been left behind and
abandoned, but other aspects of our grief will be carried with us
indefinitely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pieces that we will
carry are not as crippling as they once were, but their presence is
unquestionable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I still fall
down from time to time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a tough
time reading through some of my earlier blog posts because it forces me to
remember how raw that pain was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is
difficult to watch Gracie’s videos that are posted here without crying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is difficult for me to watch a very close
friend’s daughter, who is 3 ½ months older than Gracie, growing up and hitting
milestones (like the first day of Kindergarten) around the same time that
Gracie should have reached them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is
something that will likely nag at me for the rest of my life as I watch her
progress through high school and college, get married and start her own family,
but I am confident in saying that it is unlikely that I will be crippled by the
pain of seeing those things happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">While they
are generally “well managed,” other pieces of my grief linger just below the
surface and can be triggered with relative ease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, they are not crippling pieces of grief,
but still there nonetheless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our
hospital and OB providers’ office still use the same hand soap in the restrooms
that they used when I was pregnant with Gracie. The scent of the soap is burned
into my brain, and even when I know it’s coming, it seems to knock me a bit off
balance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is far worse at the
beginning of a new pregnancy, and relatively inconsequential by the end of each
pregnancy, but still a definite trigger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And while we are on the topic of the hospital, there is one room on the
L&D floor without windows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Room
#3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were in that room 2 or 3 times
for pre-natal monitoring with Gracie, and we were in that room for every minute
of Gracie’s labor and birth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
nothing but negative association with that room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we arrived in very active labor with
baby girl #4 a few weeks ago, the only open room on the L&D floor was Room
#3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bit of panic and anxiety set in
immediately, as I refused to go in and demanded a new room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, they really had no other rooms
and I walked in at 9 cm. and 100% effaced, so I had no choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was happy to find that the room had been
renovated a bit; it had a slightly different setup on the wall where windows
are obviously absent, and it had been painted a very different color.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there was still an elephant in the
room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A big, fat, orange elephant with
blue stripes and pink polka dots who was surrounded by an aura of anxiety and
‘the other shoe.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then, with the
first sounds from my daughter, the elephant was gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hours later, I realized that being in that
room was probably the best thing for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Don’t get me wrong, I would still never pick that room again when given
a choice, but I think that experiencing a successful birth in that room was
part of my healing process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of
associating that room only with a dead baby, I can now associate it with a
short and successful labor that produced a healthy baby with an APGAR of
10.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still get very nervous when people around me
approach the final month of their pregnancies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I know that loss can happen at any point, for any reason, but my own
experience drives me to nervousness as their 36 week mark approaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadly, a small handful of couples that we
know in real life have suffered losses since we lost Gracie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We know from experience that we need to offer
support to anyone around us who is starting out on this journey, but it quickly
wakes many of the emotions lingering just below the surface.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were ‘fortunate’ enough to have a real
life friend who was able to offer us some guidance and support when we lost
Gracie; a few years later she told me that, while she was glad that she was
able to help and support us, it had reopened her wounds and brought many
feelings back for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that she
would have supported us no matter what, but I didn’t appreciate exactly how
hard it must have been for her to do until we were in a position to offer real
life support for others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ideally, I hope
that we never have occasion to offer this type of support to anyone again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that it is more likely that we will
have occasion to offer it again, so I can really only hope that it gets a
little easier the further out we get from losing Gracie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My
nervousness also carries over into pregnancy preservation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We did very little to preserve my pregnancy
with Gracie, primarily because we didn’t realize that there was a reason to
preserve anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No maternity photos,
no belly cast, nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All we have left
are a few belly photos taken in our living room (simply for belly size) and 13
photos taken after Gracie was born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Consequently,
I tend to encourage pregnant women, especially first timers, to do everything
they reasonably can to preserve their pregnancy…photos, belly cast, pregnancy
journal, ultrasound photos, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And last,
but not least, there are the very ‘little’ things that remain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fact that I have 4 girls, not 3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fact that, no matter how much joy the
Bean, the Bug, and our Littlest Lady bring to our lives, one of our girls will
always be missing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has already
missed the first day of pre-school, pre-K and Kindergarten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She will always be missing from birthday and
holiday celebrations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She will never be
part of the giggles and shrieks of silliness that come from the dogpile of
little girls on the floor with my husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She will never walk in a graduation ceremony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She will never walk down the aisle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She will never get to spoil her nieces or
nephews.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She will never know the joy of
raising her own babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Although I have
gone from the despair of losing this little girl </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfTjOkOls0g729NEhzZP9U2i0mzasHTz8pF6LVE_LurnmJBV1pAKm_Fx8XNA791trmUo3IFSkoJzX0WccM25SjFhNJkmZSwxyqvx6rz6BE7v_jEHYciTi8M8D85yH7c1XtHSmst1OAI0/s1600/gracie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfTjOkOls0g729NEhzZP9U2i0mzasHTz8pF6LVE_LurnmJBV1pAKm_Fx8XNA791trmUo3IFSkoJzX0WccM25SjFhNJkmZSwxyqvx6rz6BE7v_jEHYciTi8M8D85yH7c1XtHSmst1OAI0/s1600/gracie.jpg" height="320" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> to the joy of
raising these little girls,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTH8ixRyu-alsY-IVgtzBdTgN-GvmC53aKww0-bWaKpZRvcnnzKiXAwUfH7KN4xLEKbFVPZIgAOusuKtowFHU0ABhtXirlv2-ZB213eCHvrT29KCzXsfHf51tClH1LEkrnhyDLXxxAH8/s1600/1619533_10204759695286399_607836292118689125_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTH8ixRyu-alsY-IVgtzBdTgN-GvmC53aKww0-bWaKpZRvcnnzKiXAwUfH7KN4xLEKbFVPZIgAOusuKtowFHU0ABhtXirlv2-ZB213eCHvrT29KCzXsfHf51tClH1LEkrnhyDLXxxAH8/s1600/1619533_10204759695286399_607836292118689125_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDEKlWAacQQbCN-006HozdqAFDszC5J5Tg5UAtXjUGNzFxIY4oVw8CbJ2zetwiZXv_wv2qlkvv3St-mt5yNaLqMWzPhIDRwFKgSC4hYIwepG8-n_dmbnU1_68NeLnVO-LC16emyVR2m40/s1600/10492398_10204759696446428_248562338890303899_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDEKlWAacQQbCN-006HozdqAFDszC5J5Tg5UAtXjUGNzFxIY4oVw8CbJ2zetwiZXv_wv2qlkvv3St-mt5yNaLqMWzPhIDRwFKgSC4hYIwepG8-n_dmbnU1_68NeLnVO-LC16emyVR2m40/s1600/10492398_10204759696446428_248562338890303899_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">these are probably the most important
pieces of my remaining grief, and these are the pieces of grief that will
likely be with me until the day I die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></div>
</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">THE
REQUISITE ENDING</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For those of
you who are early in your journeys of loss and grief, it is my sincere hope
that reading the thoughts and feelings of those who have walked this path ahead
of you can be a source of comfort and emotional validation as your journey
continues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things may seem bleak and impossible
now, but I promise that, with time, patience and love for yourself, you CAN do
this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although it unlikely that I will
continue writing here with any regularity, my door is open to anyone who needs
support; I can be contacted by email or by comment here on my blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To those
with whom I have walked for the last 5 ½ years, I offer sincere thanks,
gratitude and love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think that it is quite safe to say that I made it. It is also safe to say that my journey would
have been much different without all of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There really are no other words….</span></div>
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<![endif]-->Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-57871519883250053742015-02-11T21:39:00.001-05:002015-02-12T16:42:26.512-05:00As Christmas Approaches...I have not posted here in thirty months. I came here tonight to write a long overdue update about life. When I got here I discovered this post, written in December 2012, still sitting in draft mode<i>.... </i><br />
<br />
<i>I'm not doing so well these days. Not well at all, to be very honest. Most of it has little to do with grief, but I honestly have no other outlet at this point, so here I set writing while I should be doing something else. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>My second rainbow was born on July 20 (2012). As luck would have it, the full time physical therapist that had worked for me for two years left my employ on July 27. I knew that he was leaving, but when he advised me of such, he told me that he was staying through summer, which I initially interpreted to be the end of August, not the end of July. I started looking for a new physical therapist to fill his position in May, but had not found one before he left, so I returned to work, part time, at 10 days postpartum. I was back to full time hours by 3 weeks. I had a month of normal hours, and then the school year started. I still have not found another therapist, so I am doing (well, trying my very best) the job of two full time physical therapists. I am either traveling between or hands on with patients for 10-12 hours a day, 5 days a week. That doesn't include most of my paperwork, which I have to do after 7 p.m. I have had so little time that I can't even find time to sit down and pay bills for the house or the office, and now I have a pile of late notices to deal with. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Everyone keeps saying to me "I don't know how you do it." The truth is, I'm not. I'm falling apart inside and out. In my mind, it's amazing that people can't see right through me to see how bad it really is right now. Somehow, I continue to be held to the expectation of being everything to everybody, and I just don't have that strength right now. I just want to be me for me. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I have no nerves left. I start most mornings with a huge elephant of anxiety sitting on my chest because I go to bed behind, wake up further behind and know that it will be worse by the time I go home at the end of the day. No matter how much I accomplish between the hours of 5 a.m. and midnight, I'm always further behind at midnight than I was at 5 a.m.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I spend so much time working that I feel like I'm missing every moment with my girls, and it's made worse by the fact that I know I will never get any of the missed moments back. Knowing that I will miss every moment of the life that Gracie should have had makes every moment that I miss with Jenna and Kylie that much worse. Worse for me and worse for them....worse for me because it creates more stress and anxiety, and worse for them because the worse the stress and anxiety get, the shorter my temperament gets. The worse all of it gets, the deeper my feelings of guilt and hopelessness get. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I snap at my husband and raise my voice to the kids. I yell at the dogs and cats. There is an episode of Everyone Loves Raymond in which one of the kids calls his teacher 'mommy'. His father and sister both asked "Why? Was the teacher yelling?" I feel like that mom right now. I don't want to be that mom. And this isn't how it's supposed to work, right? Isn't the dead baby supposed to create that 6th sense about 'better' parenting? Parenting with better insight, better understanding, more compassion, more tolerance, more empathy, and generally more love injected into everything, right??? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And that is where it stopped.... I thought about just deleting this and going on to the post that I came here to write tonight, but I obviously changed my mind. In the moment that I was writing this post, I had myself convinced that none of my feelings were related to baby loss or grief, despite the fact that I referenced 'the dead baby' in my last thought. Reading through this tonight, I can see so clearly that most of how I was feeling could be blamed equally on lingering grief and extrinsic stressors. Just another demonstration of not being able to see the forest for the trees... Those damn grief trees...<br />
<br />
Since writing that post, lots has changed. The baby that had been born in July is now 2 1/2 years old and we had our 4th and final baby girl on January 24, 2015. I finally hired a therapist to replace the one who had left, but we have again reached the point that both of us are working a gazillion hours per week, and we have been searching for an additional therapist for the last year. I finally hired that additional therapist....two weeks before this last baby was born, so we are not yet settle in or experiencing any case load relief yet. <br />
<br />
I have made it my mission to quit yelling. My voice still works its way to "firm" or "raised" with relative frequency, but I have long stretches (sometimes weeks) with actually yelling. I remind myself every single day that I need to slow down the things in my life that regularly take time away from my kids, directly or indirectly, because I know that I am going to be so very sorry down the road if I keep missing moment after moment with them. It's so hard, though, to balance a business with the need to capture those moments with the kids.... <br />
<br />
The good news, I suppose, is that even with the sleep deprivation that has come over the the last 2 1/2 weeks with the new baby, that utter sense of despair that oozed from the December 2012 post is gone. I have had three full weeks off with the new baby (which is a luxury for me) and I will have two weeks working half of my normal schedule before I return to full swing. Once the new therapist completes orientation, we will split caseloads and I can focus on other aspects of the business that should, in the long run, free up some time for me to spend with the family. Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-50431440953477068542012-08-28T00:32:00.003-04:002012-08-28T00:32:44.010-04:00A Little Bit of Everything** Living children mentioned at various points through this post. Use discretion when reading. **<br />
<br />
Strings of good days...many good days in long strings...marred by randomly placed bad days. Perhaps the bad days are exacerbated by postpartum hormones. Perhaps
they are fueled by frustration about my broken and largely unusable
house and the lack of insurance settlement. Perhaps my own anger,
bitterness and selfishness about other situations over which I have no
control. Perhaps it's guilt. Perhaps they are bad days that really have no explanation. <br />
<br />
Today. Today was a bad day. I stopped by the cemetery for 5 minutes, and found that the grass and sod in a large portion of the cemetery had been kicked up by someone or something. Have to say, despite the fact that our family plot was untouched, I was pretty bothered by what I saw. I'm bitter and frustrated about some things at work. After a long work day I sat down and scrolled through my FB news feed, only to find that the cat I got as a kitten (who has lived with my dad since I went to college, but she was still my cat) in 1993 got hit by a car and died this morning. I accepted the fact that she had just turned 19 and had become pretty feeble and probably couldn't move fast enough to save herself, and that <i>maybe</i> it was time (and the fact that my step-mom decided to post it on FB before telling me that she had died)....and I kept scrolling. That continued scrolling brought me to a very innocent picture of my best friend's three-year-old all dressed for her first day of preschool. Today was the first day of school for many preschools and schools on the east coast, and FB was saturated with 'first day' photos, but this was the only one that bothered me. My friend and I were pregnant together and our first born girls were separated by only 3.5 months, which means that my Gracie should be starting preschool, too. All I could do was sit at my desk and cry....and then come home and cry some more as I nursed my 5 week old. And cry again as I sat down to type here tonight. <br />
<br />
When I was driving between schools today, I found myself mindlessly singing along with the radio... <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
"...These are the moments I know all I need is this,
I have all I've waited for, and I could not ask for more..." </div>
Some days these words perfectly describe how I feel about life. Other days, these words couldn't be further from the truth. I don't have all I've waited for, and there is certainly something more I could ask for. I want my daughter back. I don't think that's too much to ask. I feel so fulfilled by the relationship that I have with my husband, and by the two beautiful girls that we have added to our family since losing Gracie, but the whole in the middle of that fulfillment just can't be ignored sometimes. <br />
<br />
As I shed my tears, work through my thoughts and type these words, I know that it's all normal and that I'm perfectly entitled to every single feeling that I have. Yet, I can't help but feel overwhelming guilt at the same time. Guilt because I could not bring myself to do anything special or meaningful on Gracie's birthday at the beginning of the month. After all, she is my first born; everything about her birthday should be special...every year. Guilt because it's so hard to watch my best friend's daughter grow up and hit every milestone at the same general time my daughter should be hitting them. Guilt because she has every right to show her daughter off to the world, yet sometimes those pictures are the last thing I want to see. Guilt every time I post photos of my brand new daughter on FB for the world to see, hoping that a new BLM acquaintance won't see them; her son's due date was three days after my daughter was born, and I feel like everything I post is like dumping salt in her wounds. Guilt because each tear I shed for what I have lost is a moment taken away from quality time with my two living girls. Guilt for not feeling more grateful for all that I have with every single breath that I take. <br />
<br />
Some day, perhaps, I will be able to perfectly balance the grief with everything else in my life. Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-53287865357108478942012-06-12T17:42:00.001-04:002012-06-12T17:42:08.551-04:00March for Babies 2012This year's walk was at the beginning of May. Our previous walk location was combined with another regional walk, and once we arrived, we understood why. Our previous location drew only about 150 walkers. The new combined walk drew somewhere around 800 walkers. Pretty impressive for this area. <br />
<br />
Team Graciebelle had 4 walkers and a ride along. Our parents all bailed on walking this year; maybe next year will be different. With the help of our team, our family and our friends, we raised a grand total of $3855.65 this year. Our team goal was $5500; even though we fell a little short, $3800 isn't too shabby. Thank you to all who donated to our efforts!! <br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Team Graciebelle 2012</div>
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Jenna standing next to her Ambassador poster from last year's walk. </div>
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<br />Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-78925987729097262632012-06-12T17:27:00.001-04:002015-02-12T16:39:24.885-05:00Baby Loss Awareness PinsUpdated 2/12/2015<br />
<br />
We still have pins available if anyone is interested in purchasing. <br />
<br />
If anyone is interested in purchasing remembrance/awareness pins, please let me know. We ordered a bunch of these a couple years ago to donate to the memory boxes that our hospital gives to families. Sadly, we went through them quickly. When it was time to order more, I could not find them for less than $8 each, which was way too costly for us in terms of total spent for the number ordered. I looked around, and with the help of my friend, Dawn, was able to find them direct from the manufacturer. We had to order a minimum of 500 pins (which was still way cheaper than ordering the 200 we wanted at $8 each), so now we have a ton of them. I am sure that we will use them eventually, but I figured that I would offer them up for sale if anyone wants them for family or donations, etc.<br />
<br />
Cost is $2.00 per pin, plus shipping (dependent upon how many you order). Email me at<br />
<b>sand0113 </b><at><b> gmail dot com</b> if you are interested in purchasing. </at><br />
<br />
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-3100347661544246612012-05-05T17:41:00.001-04:002012-05-05T23:52:15.920-04:00Disappointment...againWhen Gracie died, our parents had no idea what to do for us. None of them had ever been through miscarriage, let along late term stillbirth and they were all just as lost as we were. Since then, they have tried to support us as they feel appropriate, but we have not asked much of them. We have asked them all to join us once a year for the October 15th remembrance walk, and we have asked them to participate in the March for Babies with us each year. We have asked them to participate in our annual Christmas Eve balloon release (which requires nothing other than walking outside and letting a balloon go into the air), and my MIL babysits for us once a month when we go to our support group meeting.<br />
<br />
My MIL asked us a while ago (I'm not really sure when - maybe 6-12 months ago) how long we were planning to attend 'this thing' (our support group meeting) every month. Our parents have all donated toward our March for Babies team every year, but none of them have helped at all with our fundraising...not one penny. My father did not walk in our first March for Babies because of knee pain. Jeff's mother will not be walking this year because of medical issues. I will not fault either of them for this. Jeff's dad will not be walking with us this year for unknown reasons.<br />
<br />
Since last year's walk, my father has had his own medical issues that have left him with moderate neuropathy in his feet that tends to get worse with lots of activity or walking. He informed me yesterday that he wouldn't be able to walk because of his neuropathy. I told him that I kind of anticipated that, and told him that the walk coordinator was still looking for more folks to man the refreshment break areas along the walk. I suggested that he consider this instead of just sitting around waiting for us, he consider helping at one of these break areas and he said that he would think about it. He followed that up with 'but I'll have to be done by 12:00 or 12:30; I have a 2:00 tee time with one of the guys from my Wednesday night league group." He mumbled something about this man not being able to make one of the league nights and using this round of golf to make up that time... My step-mom emailed me today to say that my father would not be attending the walk, so she will be coming by herself tomorrow. Somehow, I was not overly surprised. But, man, am I pissed and disappointed. Golf. He can play 18 holes of golf tomorrow (granted, he does ride instead of
walk) but he can't walk with us or even be bothered to help at a
refreshment station. He can't miss his tee time...even though he's known about the walk for several months. I got really upset when he missed on of my high school musicals without a reasonable explanation other than 'I forgot that it was this weekend", but that doesn't even compare to what I'm feeling today. <br />
<br />
We don't ask for much, and when they bail on the things that we <i>do</i> ask them to do, it just frustrates and disappoints to levels that can't be described. Gracie is our daughter...she is their granddaughter....just as much now as the day she died and was born. Yet, it's moments like this that the 'get over it' mindset seems to be stronger than any other thought or feeling that they have... It's moments like this when I feel like enough time has passed that it still matters and is still important to just two people...Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-87718926403491005622012-04-22T23:29:00.001-04:002012-04-22T23:38:52.899-04:00Disappointment<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
To the world you may be just one person, but to one person
you may be the world.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
You never understand until it happens to you.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These statements are fitting to describe the new normal
for those who have lost a baby or young child. I walk through each day
reminding myself that the world does not revolve around baby loss...and that
99.9% of the people I come into contact with on a daily basis have
suffered loss of a loved one. But there are certain situations where
the impact of baby loss simply cannot be denied, a primary example being
subsequent pregnancies and children for those who have experienced
loss. While some will never go through pregnancy
again, many will endure at least
one or more pregnancies after their loss. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am in my third pregnancy – the second pregnancy following
the death of my first born. Pregnancy after loss does not even begin to compare with pre-loss pregnancy. And because of
many variables, this entire pregnancy has been a much different experience than
our second pregnancy. This was a topic
of discussion during one of our recent support group meetings, and I finally
threw out the suggestion of extending an invitation for our providers to join
us for one of our meetings to talk with us specifically about life, and
pregnancy, after loss. I made the
suggestion fully knowing that our practitioners are very busy folks, and with
the understanding that there could certainly be no expectation of all of them attending
one of our meetings. But, I’ll be
honest, I held hope that maybe one or two (out of 7) of them might make 30
minutes to speak with us, based simply on the understanding that interactions during prenatal visits tend to be structured and limited (in terms of regularly branching out from conversation about new baby to conversation about dead baby). I really felt like it could have provided them with some beneficial perspective, not just in terms of their interaction with us, but in terms of their interaction with any and all parents experiencing loss in the future...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I suppose that it was presumptuous to think that anyone outside
of our group would see the benefit and/or need for this kind of
discussion. (And, perhaps, it was
presumptuous to believe that none of our practitioners has first hand
experience with loss.) As it turns out,
it didn’t really matter. The invitation
was extended to one of the docs, who more or less shot the idea down, and it
never went any further than that. I
never expected that any of the docs would show up in the first place, but I was
holding out a little bit of hope that a midwife or two might have a little
interest….</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So onward we trudge through the remainder of this pregnancy
and related appointments. Onward we
trudge through the repeated assumptions that life has been all sunshine and
roses prior to this pregnancy. Onward we
trudge through the ‘how many pregnancies?’ questions every time someone new can’t
be bothered to read a chart. Onward we
trudge feeling like we have returned the status of being a number instead of
being someone with noteworthy history. Onward
we trudge carrying the disappointment that even the people who should
understand more than any other practitioner out there, the ones who told us
that our daughter’s heart had stopped beating, don’t really get it…</div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-24574991197853946732012-03-26T00:47:00.001-04:002012-03-26T00:50:14.872-04:00Looking for My Person"She's my person. If I murdered someone, she's the person I'd call to help me drag the corpse across the living room floor. She's my person." --Sandra Oh as Dr. Cristina Yang, Grey's Anatomy <br />
<br />
Perhaps this is an indication that I watch too much Grey's, but it's so fitting for my mood tonight. The value of this person in one's life is immeasurable. I've been fortunate enough to have 3 people throughout my life who have stepped into this role at one point or another; a friend in high school, a roommate in college and my sister. But what do you do when you find yourself personless for an extended period of time???<br />
<br />
<i>Technically,</i> I guess I'm not personless. Two of the three are still in my life, but not really in the sense of calling them to 'help drag the corpse across the living room floor' anymore....and definitely not in the sense of this damned grieving process. My college roommate and I have been separated by about 3.5 hours for the last 12 years; we see each other a few times a year and we talk frequently, but it's just not the same as the 5 years that we spent living together. For some reason there is something that prevents me from calling her and saying 'I miss my daughter' and processing what I need to process with her. I'm pretty sure she wants to ask about it, but there's something that prevents her from doing so. We talk about everything in the world <i>except </i>how I <i>really </i>am, and I don't know how to change it. Deep down, I think most of it is due to the fact that her first baby was born just 3.5 months before Gracie. There is so much connection when you're pregnant at the same time as a close friend...where that connection goes when one of the babies dies is something only those reading this blog can know and understand. The emotions of watching the other child grow and develop are something only those reading this blog can know and understand. The ridiculous barriers that it can create are, again, something only those reading this blog can know and understand. <br />
<br />
My sister left American soil exactly two weeks after Gracie's funeral; she spent the next 27 months serving with the Peace Corps in Africa (with the exception of a 3 week visit home about half way through her service that I wrote about quite a while ago). Despite the fact that she lived 2-3 hours away for years before she went into the Peace Corps, we talked daily. There isn't much that I couldn't and didn't say to my sister. Obviously, her departure with the Peace Corps had nothing to do with me, but it couldn't have come at a worse point in my life. Good God, how selfish does that sound???? She heads to Africa to spread assistance, peace and good cheer and I'm saying that it was inconvenient for me. But in all reality, her departure was a definite turning point in our relationship. Had she stayed stateside, our daily communication would have certainly continued, at least after the first few weeks following Gracie's death. The way things played out, communication was minimal for months after she left, simply because of her logistics and environment. Once we were able to resume regular communication, it was usually via 'instant message', which leaves much to be desired when you're working through grief. Once regular phone communication was established, the window had more or less closed; she was so wrapped up in the daily hardships of what she was doing that she never really asked, and I never found a good way to inject 'I miss my daughter' into our conversations. Between the halfway point of her service in Africa and the time she came home, other things happened to just 'kick the horse while it was down'. She's been home for 5 months, and in that time, I've seen and talked to her a fair amount, but it's different that it's ever been in the past. There's an element missing...or perhaps some kind of barrier that we've never had; there are things that I just don't/can't say at this point that I would have said 3 years ago, I know that she's not openly communicating things with me that she would have shared 3 years ago. She moved from the east coast to Colorado a month ago, and my gut tells me that that will be another very damaging blow, as will substantially limit how much we see her and how much she gets to interact with the rest of my kids. <br />
<br />
So, essentially, I'm personless. I have lots of acquaintances, but I run really short in the good, true friend department. I'm picky about who I let into my life, and I'm just not that good at making friends (and there are just not that many opportunities for me to meet lots of new people face-to-face these days...). As a result, the void created when my daughter died is perched right next to the void(s) where 'my people' should be, due in large part to this unending grieving process. Gotta love the domino effect...Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-61138593948379080282011-12-15T21:33:00.001-05:002011-12-15T21:34:00.250-05:00And the winner is....Sorry that I'm so very late with this, ladies, but it's been a day.<br />
<br />
The winner of the bead sprout ornament is the author of comment #8... <a href="http://spendtimeinmyshoes.blogspot.com/">Kate</a>. <br />
<br />
The runner-up, and winner of the Pampered Chef 29-day raffle ticket, is the author of comment #14... Cooper and Lily's mama, Jen.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Kate, please send me an email at sand0113<at> [at] gmail [<dot>dot] com with your address so I know where to send your ornament.</dot></at><br />
<br />
Jen, I will scan your ticket and email it to you.<br />
<br />
<br />
Thanks to all who visited and commented. Wishing you a very merry, safe and peaceful Christmas season.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-3050459933018036302011-12-14T14:01:00.000-05:002011-12-14T14:01:15.696-05:00Amendment to Day #14 GiveawayIf any of you that follow Gracie's blog have already visited today for the giveaway, please be aware that the end of my original post somehow got cut off or omitted. I have added to the end of what was posted earlier, so you might want to <a href="http://jeffsusangracie.blogspot.com/2011/12/25-days-of-giveaways-day-14.html">go back</a> and read for one second about the second item that I am offering...Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-6667900585108686942011-12-13T18:00:00.051-05:002011-12-14T13:58:38.170-05:0025 Days of Giveaways - Day #14Welcome to all who are here as part of Tina's 25 days of giveaways. I have finally had the foresight to get this posted in early enough for those living half a day ahead of me to participate on the right day, and I will be leaving it open until 7:00 a.m. (EST on 12/15/11) for the benefit of those living several hours behind me.<br />
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Although I haven't been able to participate in each day of this year's giveaways, I want to thank Tina for coordinating this awesome event again this year. It is a little bright light to look forward to during a time that can be so bittersweet. I have participated for the last two years, and each year I have struggled to find the right item to give away. Two years ago, I gave a hand-made angel stocking that <a href="http://bettytsworld.blogspot.com/">Betty</a> so graciously waited <i>very </i>patiently for. Last year I thought I had found the perfect gift in the form of an <a href="http://jeffsusangracie.blogspot.com/2010/12/25-days-of-giveaways-welcome-to-day-21.html">angelversary garden flag, </a>but when the flags arrived, I was so disappointed with the quality. So, what to give this year???<br />
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Two years ago, my husband and I decided that we would find a few new Gracie ornaments for our Christmas tree each year. This will be our third year for this tradition, and I suspect that it will get a bit more difficult each year, as I have had a difficult time limiting myself to just one or two per year. Last year, one of the ornaments that I purchased was a hand-made bead sprout angel ornament that has wings and Gracie's name and date of birth on the back. I love this ornament so much that I have decided to give one for this year's giveaway. The winner will receive a baby in pink blanket if their angel is a little girl, and a blue blanket if their angel is a little boy. If your angels were multiples, I will do my very, very best to send one of the appropriate color for each angel (if a mama of multiples wins, it might be closer to next Christmas until I am able to send both, simply because of the 'production' schedule of the wonderful woman who makes these.). I know that there are few of you who already have one of these ornaments; if the winner happens to already have one, I will find a replacement ornament for you. <br />
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To enter, please leave a comment below and tell me your angel's name and date of birth. Please also tell me what holiday traditions you and your family have established or fallen into to remember your angel(s).<br />
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***** I did this post ahead of time and scheduled it to be automatically posted by blogger. I just discovered that the last 1/4 of it is missing and never posted. So here is the rest of it for those who have not visited yet...I suppose it will just be a surprise to those who have already been here!! <br />
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One additional winner will receive a Pampered Chef calendar raffle ticket for February 2012. This is a fund raiser that we are doing for our March for Babies team. For more information on the raffle (and information about how to purchase a ticket if you don't win one), please visit our <a href="http://teamgraciebelle.blogspot.com/p/current-fundraising-efforts.html">Team Graciebelle blog</a>. Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-1389474602384543912011-12-01T07:12:00.000-05:002011-12-01T07:12:44.978-05:0025 Days of Giveaways!If you are no familiar with the 25 Days of Giveaways organized by <a href="http://livingwithoutsophiaandellie.blogspot.com/">Tina</a> (this is the THIRD year already!), please visit her blog and check it out! Today is day #1 of the giveaways. Come back here and visit me on December 14th for the giveaway that I am hosting. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a border="0" href="http://livingwithoutsophiaandellie.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cX06JtSyl4vlCbR4oJIQ6wB-RxwJSIPaZFJ65ZQAeVBlNsHqdSt3p-vbKQKp0ptaWQNOV0WSvPf0hLfOnRtvz4aRq6BYRwbTPXuKWalzZeqgpyef5FBgJmPZhuJGXLOIhbs9eu-ukqob/s200/GIVEaway2.png" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-43408503491257642002011-11-01T22:56:00.000-04:002011-11-01T22:56:10.108-04:00What RemainsTwenty-seven months. 791 days. Just over 18,984 hours. Just over 1,139,040 minutes. Yet, it seems like just yesterday that I gave birth to my oldest child's lifeless body, with the only cries to disturb the quiet of that night belonging to myself and my husband.<br />
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Twenty-seven months. Enough time for my little girl to have grown into an active, inquisitive and loving toddler who would have understood this year's trick-or-treating, this year's visit to Santa, and the presents under this year's Christmas tree. <br />
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But instead, what remains is simply a notion of my daughter...a notion of what she would have looked like...and a notion of who she would be now. <br />
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What remains is a mama who appears, on the outside, to have 'gotten over it' and 'moved on'. Truth be known, I am okay. I have far more good days than bad days. But the bad days...the bad days are <i>very.bad.days. </i>that knock this mama down and leave her heart hurting in the worst way possible. The bad days leave this mama wanting to stand on the roof and shout loud enough for everyone within 100 miles to know just how much this sucks. <br />
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What remains is a mama who has never struggled with anxiety, but is now regularly blindsided by the feeling that her heart is going to pound right out of her chest...followed by inexplicable angst that lasts for the remainder of the day and evening and interferes with everything else on her agenda. <br />
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What remains is a mama that desperately wishes that she could understand this phase of her husband's grieving process (and that he could understand hers a little better, too.). For now, she will settle for finally accepting that there are sometimes no words to begin to describe the difference between a woman's grief and a man's grief. <br />
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What remains is this blog space. Originally intended to honor my daughter, hold my thoughts and my grief, and let others know that they aren't alone, this space is now relatively quiet. Over the last twenty-seven months it has certainly served its purposes, but now it is seldom visited and seldom updated. I like to hope and believe that it still serves it purpose in the natural progression of my grief...<br />
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What remains are acquaintanceships and friendships that I have forged through this blog and other avenues within the loss community. Lots of acquaintances. More than I can easily count. A small handful of life-long friends that I feel like I have known since elementary school. Friends who understand. Friends who expect nothing from me except the same understanding. Friends who will always be there.<br />
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What remains is a mama who feels compelled to reach out to those who suddenly find themselves the newest member of this dreadful 'club,' despite the fact that doing so sometimes seems to add insult to injury. Salt constantly poured into the wounds, yet it feels worse to not reach out... I guess it balances out in knowing that I am able to pay forward the love and support offered to us when we needed it most...<br />
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What remains is a mama who lives amongst people who see the things that she does to maintain and honor daughter's memory and say things like "Maybe if you did less to keep her 'alive' and constantly remember her, you would have an easier time letting her die. Maybe you would feel better if you just let her die." (I sometimes secretly wonder if these people might have a small, yet valid, point...)<br />
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What remains is a rainbow who embodies everything that I pictured her older sister to be...and more. I love her more than words...with everything I have, but sometimes I feel like it's just not enough. <br />
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Ultimately, what remains is a mama who misses the 'before,' yet would not trade any of this for anything...except for one very small, tiny, little Peanut...Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-8245397692658370662011-08-08T22:55:00.002-04:002011-08-09T09:53:48.331-04:00SomedaySomeday I will look at children born within a few months of 8.1.09 and not involuntarily try to picture what my daughter would look like and be doing. Someday I will not look at Gracie's second cousin, born two months before she was, and think that there should be two of them running around and climbing all over things and people at family reunions. Someday I will look at my friend's little girl, born 3.5 months before Gracie and not think that they should be playing together. Some day I will see pictures of Lyla, born about 6 weeks before Gracie, and not feel that envy...not even a little bit. Someday. Some.day. But today is. not. that. day.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-82770406647544489762011-08-02T22:18:00.000-04:002011-08-02T22:18:19.076-04:00Two Years<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal">‘How’d you do with the birthday?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many times I wish people would be more direct with their curiosity or questions about Gracie, and baby loss in general, but I’m not sure that today was one of those days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then there is the question of whether or not this person <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> wanted to know how<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>I did with Gracie’s birthday, or if she simply wanted to say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something </i>to acknowledge the day and she just didn’t know what else to say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regardless, I gave my standard answer of ‘Eh – okay.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But how did I really do with Gracie’s second birthday / angelversary?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>really know, I guess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did better with her actual birthday than I did with the day before her birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>August 1<sup>st</sup> is technically the day that she was born, but in my mind it is really just a continuation of July 31<sup>st</sup>, which is the day Gracie died, the day that her death was confirmed and the day that I labored for 9 hours (out of 11.5 total hours).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If my labor had been induced 2.5 hours earlier than it was, it’s probable that she would have been born on the 31<sup>st</sup> instead of things dragging over into a completely new day and month. So, for me it’s more about the 31<sup>st</sup> than it is the 1<sup>st</sup>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Regardless of which day we’re talking about, I can say that there was no meltdown, no flood of tears and no drinking to drown my sorrows…so it wasn’t that bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was no birthday cake, no large family dinner, no large balloon release, no gifts or flowers left at her grave site by friends or family…so it wasn’t really that great, either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most notably, there was no two-year-old Gracie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of that was replaced with a morning at the flea market, a family nap and processing homemade baby food on Sunday and a half-day of work, an afternoon thunderstorms with torrential downpours and hail, dropping off a few more things for the memory boxes that Debbie and I donated, and an abbreviated and lonely visit to the cemetery on Monday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took a small bouquet of flowers and released four balloons, but didn’t stay long at the cemetery since there wasn’t much break in the thunderstorms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to do more than this to honor her day(s).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the last month we actually put quite a bit of thought into what we wanted to do on Sunday and Monday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We tossed around several ideas, but ultimately we never decided on anything that felt right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In some way, I feel like we let Gracie down with our lack of planning and our lack of ‘festivities’. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ironically, a year ago I had a feeling that this would happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(To read about Gracie’s first birthday, <a href="http://jeffsusangracie.blogspot.com/2010/08/gracies-birthday-memorial.html">read here</a>).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hopefully next year we can get it together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Amongst our travels, I spent much of the 31<sup>st</sup> looking at the clock and thinking about what was happening at that moment two years earlier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thinking about every part of that awful day over and over and wondering how in the world two years can simultaneously pass so quickly and stand so completely still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s one of those things that you try to turn off, but just can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have also spent much of the last few days thinking how different everything is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How different it is compared to one year ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How different it is compared to two and three years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How different so many things in our lives are now compared to what should have been…compared to what was supposed to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Death, new life, marriage, divorce, illness, heartache, upheaval…none of it playing out the ‘right’ way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, how I wish I knew what any of it meant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I will close with a few photos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The top photo is the remainder of the donations for the <a href="http://jeffsusangracie.blogspot.com/2011/06/memory-boxes.html">memory boxes</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The others are from Monday’s visit to the cemetery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wishing you all a peaceful week (or month, since it seems that I can’t get here and write any more frequently than once a month these days!) Loving you and missing more than anyone will ever know, baby girl!!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-13663809682226111392011-06-30T09:41:00.000-04:002011-06-30T09:41:49.006-04:00What Fun It WasMy pregnancy with Gracie overlapped with the pregnancies of a large handful of family and friends. Most of those babies were born within 2-3 months (before and after) of Gracie. Being pregnant with everyone else was a hoot...all the conversation about these kids growing up and playing together. It really was incredibly fun. Right up until the day my daughter's heart stopped beating. Now it sucks. Most days it doesn't bother me too much. Other days it sucks big, fat hairy goat balls. Pictures of these kids posted on FB. Watching these kids run around and play at family events. Hearing my friends talking about taking their kids to an area amusement park that we all went to as kids. Watching and hearing about the plans for last year's first birthday parties and this year's second birthday parties. I should be doing all of the same things this year. I keep looking at all of these kids and seeing how big they have gotten over the last two years, and looking at Jenna as she grows so quickly...and wondering what my little Gracie would look like now and what she would be doing. I don't want to ever forget, but some times I wish my brain would quit with the 'what if' and 'I wonder...' thoughts. Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-66278358576096981812011-06-20T13:33:00.000-04:002011-06-20T13:33:22.988-04:00I'm okay. I really am. I'm not sitting here in tears. I'm not sitting here trembling. But I am sitting here in awe...to the point that I needed to write a short blip here. <br />
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Today has been a good day. It's one of those days that, while Gracie (and baby loss) plays at low volume in the back of my mind, she is not a forerunning or all-consuming thought. I just came home for lunch, sat down and turned the t.v. on and found a rerun of Grey's Ana.tomy. I haven't watched Grey's in a couple months, so how is it that, of all episodes, I turned the t.v. on just in time to see them finding no heartbeat on an ultrasound screen??? How completely random is this??? I've seem this episode, and I'll be fine, but shit. It's all suddenly in the front of my brain, and I know from experience that it will stay there until I go to bed tonight. Sometimes I wonder about the timing and randomness of these happenings... Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-35851590157194749492011-06-09T20:26:00.000-04:002011-06-09T20:26:55.242-04:00It Just Seems Fitting...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymKtWtvoPfi8ACfpanEMc2Grxs_itYX6p8MfNf8VPTFzke1iQdnhmTT5Gzio8Vc9AiXpRWQsv_Gni-h9CwJ2ZDe-4Zna-Jrf26FDq11FQJtlh_qNREYDfHcaKvrqSIqROu6WD-94zTVI/s1600/butterfly+courage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymKtWtvoPfi8ACfpanEMc2Grxs_itYX6p8MfNf8VPTFzke1iQdnhmTT5Gzio8Vc9AiXpRWQsv_Gni-h9CwJ2ZDe-4Zna-Jrf26FDq11FQJtlh_qNREYDfHcaKvrqSIqROu6WD-94zTVI/s400/butterfly+courage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-39636822795717372152011-06-07T22:29:00.001-04:002011-06-07T22:33:18.720-04:00Right Where I Am: 1 year, 10 monthsMany thanks to Angie from <a href="http://stilllifewithcircles.blogspot.com/">Still Life with Circles</a> for coordinating the <a href="http://stilllifewithcircles.blogspot.com/2011/05/right-where-i-am-project-two-years-five.html">Right Where I Am project</a> for all of us to talk about where we are in our grief. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><i>I'm lost. I have gone to look for myself. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>If I get back before I return, please ask me to wait. </i></div><br />
I should find this on a shirt and wear it every day. Or maybe put it on a button. Either way, this is it. Most days, I am okay, as far as okay goes after the loss of a child. But, quite honestly, I am still looking for myself. I am twenty two months without my first born. Twenty two months trying to figure out who I was then and who I am now. Twenty two months trying to figure out where I was, where I am and where I'm headed. <br />
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Twenty two months ago I was wife to a playful and passionate husband. Twenty two months ago I was a self-employed physical therapist and owner of a private physical therapy practice. Twenty two months ago I was Deputy Chief of an award-winning and trail blazing volunteer fire department. Twenty two months ago I was a daughter, sister, niece and friend. Twenty two months ago I was me.<br />
<br />
Today I am still all of those things. I am still a wife, still a self-employed physical therapist, still Deputy Chief. i am still a daughter, sister, niece and friend. In fact, at first glance, the pictures are quite similar until you hold them up to the light...that's when the differences can be seen with clarity. <br />
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I am still still married to the body that I took for better or for worse, richer or poorer, sickness or health. Sadly, he is not the man that I married. Playful and passionate is gone. Don't get me wrong...I don't expect him to be <i>the same</i> man that I married, because I am certainly not the same woman that he married. But most days I cannot even catch a glimpse or the smallest remnant of the man that once existed. In the days immediately following Gracie's death, I experienced a very unexpected urge and need to be physically close to my husband. My recovery prevented intimacy, but even if that had not been an issue, my husband and I were certainly not on the same page. In the months after Gracie's death, as we started talking about TTC again, any mention of intimacy immediately turned to talk of beer, Wi.ld Tur.key or scotch; there was no baby making without my husband first indulging in one of the three. Twenty two months and one rainbow baby later, my husband is still dealing with the same mental block, and it's beginning to take its toll on me mentally and emotionally. No matter what, I love him more than words can describe, but God help me, I miss my husband. I<i> know</i> that he will never be the same, but I am having such a hard time dealing with the drastic change in our physical relationship. Never in a million years did I think there would come a day that I would miss the man that had to be beaten off with a stick. But I miss him...some days, <i>almost</i> as much as I miss Gracie. I.just.plain.miss.my.husband. <br />
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I am still a self-employed physical therapist; I still own a private physical therapy practice, but it's not what it was 3 or 4 years ago. I used to be the persona of incredible motivation and over achievement. If I thought it, I made it happen. Now, some days, I consider myself to be very lucky that my doors are still open. I still work hard, more or less because I don't have a choice, but I just can't keep up any more. I have spent the last 15-18 months trying to find my drive...trying to find my passion...trying to find simple focus. Focus. HA! Right now I should be doing end-of-the-school year paperwork, and I'm blogging instead. Blogging has become a very common diversion for my paperwork....which just puts me further and further behind the 8-ball. (And the further behind I get with paperwork, the more imposing the financial implications.) It's absolute agony for me to complete a simple 8-10 sentence report for a patient's visit to the doctor, but I can sit and bang out a 4000 word blog post without effort. <br />
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I am still Deputy Fire Chief. Blah. I have been a firefighter/EMT/rescue technician for 17 years. Somewhere along the way, I picked up a gaggle of faithful 'subjects' in the form of junior firefighters that used to follow me around day and night. My commitments and responsibilities at the fire house used to rank very high on my priority list; I used to shoot out of bed every time the pager went off. Now...I just don't feel it anymore. Initially, I thought that it would get better as I moved away from Gracie's death...that my spark would come back and I would get back in the saddle. Not so much. That same drive that I talked about above...it's gone...and it carries over into the one aspect of my life that I thought would go unscathed. It makes me sad. Actually, it makes me really sad. I worked my ass off for 15 years to gain the respect of the men around me, and for the last 22 months I just haven't cared. <br />
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I am still me. The new me, and as I said at the top of this post, most days I am okay. True statement.<br />
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There are still days that I think it would be less painful to stick a fork in my eye than deal with my thoughts and feelings. Those are the days that I walk around with blog posts running and running in my head and no opportunity to sit down and get any of it out. At this point, though, the good days pretty much outnumber those days. But, I wish I could make people understand that a 'good day' is not synonymous with the return of the 'old me.' It means that I am functional; I get up, take care of my family, go to work and do the other things that I need to do to effectively remain part of part of society. I sleep well and cry very little; outside of the first month after Gracie's death, this has been the norm for me, but I cannot begin to explain it. Occasionally, there are days that I feel like I'm encompassed by fog and I run on autopilot; these are the days that it is in everyone's best interest to take a step back and carefully choose their words. Thankfully, these days are becoming fewer and further between.<br />
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Gracie's pictures and memento shelf have a place in our living room. I frequently carry Jenna over near the photos so she can see Gracie, and I tell her a little bit about Gracie while we look at her picture. With the exception of a couple specific articles of clothing, Jenna uses the things that were purchased for Gracie. I'm okay with this, as we had originally planned to use as many of Gracie's things as possible for subsequent babies. <br />
<br />
<br />
Old friends have exited, but new friends have entered. Some 'old' friends want desperately to understand, and perhaps even feel, our pain and grief; most have no desire to understand it or accept it for what it is. I appreciate those who make the effort, and I generally don't have the time of day for those who don't give a shit. There is a special place in my heart for a very small number of people around us who have been profoundly affected by our experience, and have a very hard time dealing with it. All in all, though, it's still an incredibly lonely place, and I have learned that there are <i>very select few </i>people that I can turn to for the right kind of support at the right moment. <br />
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I still struggle with my faith and trying to figure out why God would ever do something like this. I still occasionally feel some degree of contempt toward those who have no idea how lucky they are to never experience difficulty getting pregnant, pregnancy loss or baby loss; likewise, I occasionally feel contempt toward those who constantly feel inconvenienced by their kids.<br />
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Sometimes I'm still amazed by how profoundly our loss can affect pre-existing 'baggage' and and vice versa. I've actually spent quite a bit of time thinking about this lately. I have one sister, and although we have our differences, we have always been pretty close. She left two weeks after Gracie's funeral for a 2+ year assignment in Africa with the Peace Corps; she is expected to complete her service and return to the states some time in December or January. Prior to her departure, we talked on the phone daily, and usually supplemented that with daily online communication. While she's been in Africa, we've been lucky to hook up online once or twice a week for a few minutes and/or via Sky.pe once every month or two. Obviously, lots has changed in her world since she's been gone; she has, after all, been living in Africa for almost 2 years. Lots has changed in my world since she's been gone. Even with the 'regular' communication we have had since she left, she has essentially missed my entire grieving process. That's not to say that my grief or my grieving process are her burden to bear, but rather to say that there are many things about my grief and grieving that I have not said or shared with her that I would have undoubtedly shared with her if she had been stateside for the last 2 years. There is so much about me and my hubby that she will just not understand or get once she gets back and resumes regular interaction with us; likewise, there is also so much that I will never understand about her...and perhaps <a href="http://jeffsusangracie.blogspot.com/2011/06/snafu.html">a thing or two</a> that I will never want to understand. Truth be known, I feel like we will welcome a stranger back into the country in a few months, due in large part to all that has unfolded since the death of our daughter, and I am quite unsettled by it. <br />
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It is still sometimes difficult for me to watch as two little ones around us grow up. My husband's cousin had a little boy just two months before Gracie died, and my very best friend in the world had a little girl 3.5 months before Gracie died. We see one relatively frequently, and I see pictures of the other even more frequently. As much as I love her, the pictures of my friend's little girl sometimes really tug at my heart; they help me to visualize exactly what I am missing out on with my beautiful little girl. Aside from these two little ones, I do pretty well around babies and toddlers that are the age that Gracie should be. <br />
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So, where am I headed? It's impossible to know. If I take only one 'lesson' away from this entire experience, it is this... I <i>must, must, must</i> accept that, no matter how much I want to believe otherwise, life works on its own terms...not mine. I can do things to influence the path of my life, but for the most part, it's completely out of my control. To that end, I know that I don't want to be solely defined by the loss of my daughter. It will always be <i>part</i> of who I am, and shape some of the things that I do, but I don't want it to be <i>what </i>I am. I am still working on this. It is safe to say that I will never regain the innocence or naivety that I had before Gracie died, but I do think that, in time, I will be able to recover some of the spark and pizazz that Gracie's death smacked right out of me. So I am going to keep looking for that spark and pizazz. At the same time I am going to keep trying to find some way to ease some of my husband's pain - for his benefit, for our rainbow's benefit, and for my own selfish benefit. How long will it take? Forever. It will all be part of our life long journey. Where will I be in six months or a year? I'd like to tell you that I will have found a few remnants of my husband, found my focus and gotten back on track at work, found my spark and drive and gotten back on track at the fire house and picked up where I left off with my sister. The truth is that I have no clue, but if you made it this far, I invite you to stop back at some point to see where I am. Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-42274950371629009622011-06-02T08:45:00.002-04:002011-06-02T08:45:00.396-04:00SnafuI don't know if this is entirely appropriate for me to post here, and I honestly don't know how long I will leave it. It's written more as a vent than anything, since it's something that I can't really go 'real life' public with in terms of venting.... <br />
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A few weeks ago during an online conversation, my sister (who, with the exception of 3 weeks around Christmas 2010, has been in Southern Africa with the Peace Corps since August of 2009) casually mentioned that she had had a 'condom snafu' and that she was planning to do a pregnancy test when she went into the capital city several days later for dental work. I told her that there were worse things than getting pregnant, to which she responded that if she was pregnant (which was worst case scenario), she would get a two week 'vacation' stateside. I was confused about this so I asked why they would send her stateside for two weeks. Her reply was "because abortion is illegal here."<br />
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Her reply almost knocked me off the couch. I could not believe what I was seeing on my computer screen. Thankfully, it was time to keep moving so I could get out the door on time for work, but I spent the rest of the day trying to process this chain of events. The more I processed it, the more disturbed I became. Growing up, my sister and I didn't always see eye to eye, but we have always been quite close. Sadly, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that this brewing situation was one of <i>very</i> few things capable of having a profoundly negative impact on our relationship. <br />
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Our conversation caused an immediate flurry of thoughts and questions in my brain. Does the Peace Corps really use tax money to pay for her med-evac trip across the Atlantic for this? Who actually pays for her abortion? How in the world does she think she can remain in 'stealth mode' if she spends two weeks stateside; does she really think that this is something that she can hide from close friends and family? Has she even thought about the implications of having an abortion? Has she given any consideration at all to carrying a baby to term and arranging an adoption? We want more kids...could <i>we</i> adopt and raise this baby or would that eventually create too much tension and animosity amongst the family? And lastly...why in the hell would she share her intentions with me????? Has she forgotten that we buried her first born niece less than two years before???? Did she think AT ALL about the reaction I might have to her having an abortion? <br />
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Ten years ago, this wouldn't have had much impact on me, as I have never been steadfast pro-life or pro-choice. But things are substantially different for me now than they were 5 or 10 years ago. In this particular instance, I had a severely negative reaction to her inclination to use abortion as a means of back up birth control. Thinking about it actually caused a physical reaction within me. I kept coming back to thoughts about the people I know who are struggling to cope with infertility and/or long and arduous adoption processes...and I wondered if any of them would have interest in a private adoption. I kept coming back to thoughts about what the next few years hold for us in terms of our childbearing hopes. I kept coming back to thoughts that told me over and over again that my sister is just way to selfish to even consider carrying a baby to term in order for it to be adopted.<br />
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I agonized over all of this for 3 days until I got word from my sister that her pregnancy test was negative. Surprisingly, knowing that she is not pregnant didn't really make me feel much better. A few weeks have passed, and it's still nagging at me...pretty substantially. Those who read here with any regularity might remember that my <a href="http://jeffsusangracie.blogspot.com/2011/01/remnants.html">sister's visit </a>state side over Christmas was very bumpy. It was probably the single worst 3 week period that I have ever been through with my sister. Based on that, I simply cannot imagine what would have ensued if she had announced that she was pregnant. I do know, without a doubt, that it would have been ugly and I'm certain that it would not have passed quickly...if at all. There are questions that I didn't get answers to (including who would have paid for her trip and procedure) that I will probably never will get answers to. As much as I would 'love' to breach the conversation with her at some point now that I know there is no baby involved, I know that nothing productive can come from it, so I just don't know if it's worth it.<br />
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I so badly want for my sister to un-ring this bell. I want to erase these thoughts and I want to not see my sister in this whole new light . I want, in the worst way, to not have this kind of reaction over something that I have absolutely no control over. I certainly want to never have this kind of reaction to something that someone else considers to be just a snafu...just an inconvenient bump in the road.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-303080509123109182011-06-01T12:03:00.001-04:002011-06-05T14:56:19.721-04:00Memory BoxesMy real life BLM friend, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/12559858326216119651">Debbie</a>, and I found out several months ago that one of the hospitals local to our area does very little for loss families. Essentially, all they do is provide a copy of the book "When Hello Means Goodbye" and they get a lock of hair and footprints from the baby "if they can." We were shocked by how little they do to comfort these families, and we decided to do a little something, not for the hospital's sake, but for the sake of these families as they begin one of the most difficult journeys of their lives. We put together 5 memory boxes and dropped them off a couple weeks ago. The nurse manager of the OB department was floored "that anyone would be this generous." While it felt good to fill a need of this kind, I was floored that, as a department, they don't see or feel a need to make sure that <i>every </i>(appropriate) family goes home with something similar...without depending on the generosity of others.<br />
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Here are a few pics of what we delivered. <a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/12559858326216119651">Debbie</a> is responsible for making the outside of these boxes look so great!! (The beautiful hats that Debbie also ordered are missing from the pictures...I will add those later.)<br />
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</a></div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-53708170373353526052011-05-31T23:15:00.000-04:002011-05-31T23:15:05.891-04:00Embodiment of SpiritI have some interesting conversations amongst my travels between schools during the week. Most of them are harmless banter; some of them are seemingly innocent, but totally inappropriate. During one of those <i>seemingly </i>innocent conversations a few weeks ago, someone suggested to me that perhaps Gracie's spirit returned to us in Jenna's body and that ultimately we might not be missing a child, just a body. Of course, the conversation sparked lots of activity within my mind...<br />
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I have struggled with my faith for a long time. Weird, since there are (well, were) nuns on both sides of my family and my dad's entire family (14 kids) went to Catholic school. Perhaps it's not so weird when you consider that over the last 25 years, the many of the God fearing Catholics on both sides of my family have not only moved away from the Catholic church, but away from organized religion all together. Anyway, it's always been a struggle for me. I believe that a divine being (known commonly as God) does exist, but I don't really know what else I believe about that being. Consequently, I have mixed feelings, beliefs and fears about what waits for us after death. I don't know how one can have such mixed feelings and beliefs about something like this, but I do. <br />
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There is, sadly, a part of me that believes that when we die, we die. That's it. Nothing else. No Heaven, no Hell, no spiritual afterlife, no reincarnation. Just cold, eternal nothingness.<br />
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There is a part of me that believes in spiritual reincarnation. It is not uncommon to hear me say that I want to come back as a well cared for dog or cat in my next life, or that I must have been this or that in my previous life. Part of me does believe that the spirit of each person, young or old, is the rekindled spirit of something else...but I don't necessarily know if I believe that we are inhabited by the spirit of some<i>one</i> else. There is absolutely a part of me that wants desperately to believe that perhaps Jenna's body is simply a new vessel for Gracie's spirit since the first vessel failed...but my brain says that there is no connection and that trying to make a connection is completely unfair to Jenna. <br />
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There is a part of me believes that we all either go to Heaven, Hell and/or Purgatory when we die. I believe this more than I believe anything else. I really want to believe that Gracie is in Heaven hanging out with my grandmother, Jeff's grandfather, a few other relatives, a few family friends, and all of her angel baby friends. I want to believe that she really is an angel, because on so many levels this belief brings me more comfort than any other belief or thought.<br />
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Perhaps, one day I will figure it all out. Until then, I guess my brain will run...and envy those who have already figured it out.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-23572462721938516052011-05-31T14:19:00.002-04:002011-06-01T11:49:01.606-04:00Why Do I Write?The support group that we attend is wonderful. While we certainly have very serious periods of discussion, there is always some lighthearted conversation to counter the really serious stuff. At our last meeting, there was loose discussion about why some of us still attend and how long we will choose to attend the monthly meetings. Those of us who are support group junkies pretty much had the same answer; we still attend because it helps us in one way or another. More or less, we will attend "as long as we feel that it continues to help us...as long as we need to."<br />
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Sometimes I ask myself the same question about writing here in this space...why do I still come here to write and how long will I continue to do so? What can there possibly be to say that I haven't said already? At some point, many of us who write here in the baby loss blogosphere have asked ourselves these questions. I have asked them before, and I've blogged about them before. I have questioned specifically whether I come here and write because I am down or if I am down because I come here and write. Tonight I looked back through several months of old posts, and that was all I needed to answer that question. I come here when everything inside has built up to an undesirable level, and the end result, I think, brings me up more than it brings me down. <br />
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I write because it's still an outlet. The further we move from Gracie's death, the more the world around me expects that I am, or soon will be, the old me. With that expectation comes the people who just just don't want to hear about it anymore...the people who cannot or will not accept that the old me just doesn't exist. With that expectation comes building frustration...and the need to write and purge. I come here to purge because the people 'here' get it, and even if they <i>don't </i>get it, I still don't need to worry about being judged or criticized. Sometimes I come here, not because I am looking for feedback or comments, but because it's better to write here than it is to talk out loud to an empty room. <br />
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I write because my words are sometimes helpful to others. It pains me to know that there are new women joining this community every day, but there is a small measure of comfort in knowing that some of them make their way into the blogosphere and find comfort in various blogs, including this one. If I have to be in this position, and let's face it...I don't have a choice in the matter, I am glad that something 'good' can come of it.<br />
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Most importantly, I write for the love of my daughter. A deep-rooted, unending, unconditional love that only a parent can understand. Enough said.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-75875035931725418932011-05-27T10:38:00.001-04:002011-05-27T10:40:24.911-04:00Butterflies AplentyYesterday was one of my normal days to be out of the office to see school kids, after which I stopped at home for lunch. On the walk from home to the office, I was greeted by lots and lots of butterflies. Each spring the local elementary school displays artwork in the windows of Main Street businesses, and most of that artwork was distributed yesterday morning. There is quite a variety of artwork on display right now, but two businesses received only butterfly artwork...mine happened to be one of the two. I took a few pictures...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"> Windows of the pharmacy up the street</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48a1iFjJUzIRz0WqWK1ogO5s2xax4nrcaqxDRwUCOGWojEO8kZvHWNxMFY4RRZ7quQkn22TO9MPHX1sq1_P5ecPW16zUPf5BT3QDXqqeSIZ1aNohZDxoBIg4ItkVeyJYtJqtB196UxkM/s1600/IMG_2048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48a1iFjJUzIRz0WqWK1ogO5s2xax4nrcaqxDRwUCOGWojEO8kZvHWNxMFY4RRZ7quQkn22TO9MPHX1sq1_P5ecPW16zUPf5BT3QDXqqeSIZ1aNohZDxoBIg4ItkVeyJYtJqtB196UxkM/s320/IMG_2048.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">My office windows...with some glare added for effect...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNj2yoEXdhTirReK3qKwEM_K9n4-It9Tj2mDoyATAauZ-dCUjcGKMdwldVV7sLh2EzcgxWaxRGVLrkd1fngIqqrc9vCHBkwCwbeg4KZOXUTmjcIcwRRXkxgWXELzZEW3Q4XGFfu39J_aM/s1600/IMG_2057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNj2yoEXdhTirReK3qKwEM_K9n4-It9Tj2mDoyATAauZ-dCUjcGKMdwldVV7sLh2EzcgxWaxRGVLrkd1fngIqqrc9vCHBkwCwbeg4KZOXUTmjcIcwRRXkxgWXELzZEW3Q4XGFfu39J_aM/s320/IMG_2057.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7VGMiCrHy78OxsZmIKJAqJ_8hBs-pq4LA5E_rB1LpJxJoUUOKmqHeaxvq7LY0_XoK-armi96198cmccqOazDoKeklNNOG3FmJq8VfUlqkhMQ_Ij2rhmbUiAVYXlx2l2tyBN-NTr9s01g/s1600/IMG_2062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7VGMiCrHy78OxsZmIKJAqJ_8hBs-pq4LA5E_rB1LpJxJoUUOKmqHeaxvq7LY0_XoK-armi96198cmccqOazDoKeklNNOG3FmJq8VfUlqkhMQ_Ij2rhmbUiAVYXlx2l2tyBN-NTr9s01g/s320/IMG_2062.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8647730545372700763.post-69812410165763773512011-05-15T18:27:00.000-04:002011-05-15T18:27:36.898-04:00Who?This is a duplicate post...sort of. I know that I posted it once because several ladies commented on it. It seems, however, that it fell victim to Blo.gger's issues, and somehow reverted back to a saved draft with some content missing. So here is my second attempt...<br />
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We each have our own way of processing our losses, but as a BLM, we each eventually accept that our hearts automatically causes our brains to form thought attachments. We simply accept that our brains will, for a <i>very </i>long time, attach thoughts of our dead babies to so many of our daily routines, activities and conversations. For me, it's just one of the bullet points listed under 'new normal.'<br />
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Eventually we begin to care less and less about the fact that expressing those thought attachments might make someone else uncomfortable, and we start to throw them into daily conversation here and there. We watch people squirm a little bit and sometimes we can actually see them mentally searching for the 'right' words with which to respond. And then, one day, just when we think there are none left, another bomb drops. It stops you mid-sentence and mid-step, and might actually cause you to be momentarily lost for words.<br />
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That bomb dropped for me today. Again, it's not necessarily the bomb itself that stings, but having to remind myself that people forget. Quickly. I was talking with one of my per-diem employees today, and I said something that included the phrase "...since Gracie died..." - "Who?" - "Gracie." - "Gracie who?" "Our Gracie, our baby." - "Oh." Now, this woman was our back-up labor coach for Gracie's birth, and she walks with us on our M.o.D. team, so she's not exactly unfamiliar with Gracie...so I was stupified by this entire conversation (which lasted only 5-10 seconds). It's just reinforcing proof that it's absolutely not burned into the minds of everyone around us...and certainly not in the front of the minds of those who are still supportive of our journey even years after our losses.<br />
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The entire encounter made me think about my grandmother today. She is 91 and in a skilled nursing facility with substantial Alzheimer's Disease. She has 3 living children and 1 dead baby. All I know about my Uncle David is that he died when he was a baby. I don't know where he fell in the birth order, I don't know if he was stillborn or died after birth, and I don't know why he died. I do know that I have heard people talk about him only twice in my 34 years and that he was not listed in my grandfather's obituary (as having predeceased his father). It all makes me wonder about how my Grandmother has <i>really </i>felt all these years. Was she able to push it from her mind and move on with her life (because that's what was forced upon her) or did she think of my Uncle David often and just keep it to herself? I wonder if, amongst her Alzheimer's, she thinks of him now. Oh, how I would love to talk with my grandmother about this, but the Alzheimer's makes this an off limits conversation. Sadly, I don't know what she would be able to remember, or how accurate it would be, and she also does not know about my little Gracie. Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14814373587860281157noreply@blogger.com2