Silent Night
Silent night, holy night
All is calm, All is bright
Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child
Holy Infant so Tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.
Silent night, holy night
Shepherds quake at the sight
Glories stream from heaven afar;
Heavenly hosts sing Al-le-lu-ia
Christ the Saviour is born
Christ the Saviour is born.
Silent night, holy night
Wondrous star, lend thy light
With the angels let us sing
Alleluia to our King
Christ the Saviour is here,
Jesus the Saviour is here
Silent night, Holy night
Son of God, love's pure light
Radiant beams from Thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus Lord at thy birth;
Jesus Lord at thy birth.
This song as rung in my ears since losing Clara. Now, I hear it all of the time because it is a Christmas song. It does bring me peace, and although it touches my heart, it's in a good way. It reminds me that my Clara is at peace, that everything is okay, and that she is watching us from Heaven. As I've said before, her name means Clear and Bright, our little clear and bright star, shining down from Heaven to light our darkest nights.
This holiday season is very hard. Not only are we dealing with not having Clara with us this Christmas, we are dealing with her 1st birthday coming so quickly. Clara was named after the Sugar Plum Fairy in the Nutcracker. A symbol of Christmas. Christmas is my favorite holiday and I wrapped Clara all up in it. This time last year, things were already going wrong, we just didn't know. She was struggling and starving. I can't help but think about what she may have endured. What is fact and what is my worry, I will never know. She stopped growing at 23 weeks, which would have been around Dec. 11th, 2011. I felt her slow down in her movements. I was worried. At her 24 week appt, it was still too soon to tell that she had stopped growing, and something could be wrong. Any change in her measurements were in very normal variants. Throughout week 24, I grew more concerned. She was moving, but it was definitely slower and weaker. Christmas Eve, I was very worried. She was so sluggish. She used to be so active. But, I didn't want to ruin Christmas for everyone by rushing to the hospital for something that was probably nothing. You see, I did not yet believe that my baby could die. You can only truly believe that when you baby does die. You worry and fear it, but you don't believe it. Christmas day, 25 weeks, she moved more! My Christmas present from her. I thought that I had been worried for nothing. She had just been going through a growth spurt, which happens around her age. The next few days we were very busy. I again noticed that she had slowed down in her movements. We had to schedule the ultrasound to check on her cyst, but we were going to make it for the end of January. Ken suggested that we should make it for as soon as possible because of my worry. The ultrasound would reassure us that she was fine, just being a difficult baby and scaring us. I called and scheduled her ultrasound for January 5th, 2012. It was only a few days away.
The day of her ultrasound came and the first thing we saw was her head. The cyst was gone!! YAY!! The ultrasound tech showed us the different sections of her brain, one section looks like a butterfly and the tech said that means that Clara's brain where the cyst was looked perfect. We were so excited! Then suddenly, everything went wrong. Clara's head was measuring at 23 weeks. She was now almost 27 weeks. Too much of a difference to be okay. There was low amniotic fluid, and Clara's heartbeat was very irregular. It kept dropping and then coming back up. I thought that we were going to watch her die. We went to the MFM specialist right away, but Clara looked better. Still low fluid, but not as low. Her heart was steady and strong, but she was still very small. We were reasurred however that she would make it for at least the next 2 weeks. I would meet with my doctor again in 1 week, and we would just take it one week at a time.
January 12th, 2012. I went to my final doctor appointment with Clara. I was terrified. I hadn't felt her move at all that day. The last time I felt her move, her movement seemed weird to me. She had kicked out and I felt her head hit one side, and her feet his my other side. I hadn't felt her move since. I didn't know that that kick was her body's final fight to live, but I am glad that I remember her final movement clearly. The horrible words, no heartbeat. Seeing her tiny lifeless body on that ultrasound and knowing that it was too late to save her. I had failed her incredibly so. That horrible feeling of how to tell Ken, the kids.
Friday, January 13th, 2012, 5:04 pm. At almost 28 weeks, my darling baby was born. Not screaming, and not flailing. Still and silent, but perfect. We held her and loved her. Kissed her and dressed her. She was the most perfect thing ever to be born. A tiny 1 lb 9 oz, 13 1/2 inches long. Dark hair, and tiny everything! Mouth, eyes, nose, 10 fingers and toes. Finger and toe nails. I longed for her to wake up. I wanted her to wake up and be okay. But, she had already gone to Heaven. We got pictures of her. We baptised her. When it was time to say good-bye, I held her one last time and tried to memorize everything about her. Then, I let her go. I watched the nurse wheel her away from me. I didn't cry, I didn't scream. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
January 16th, 2012. We buried our baby. Her funeral was perfect and beautiful. We got to the mortuary and she was there. Beautiful and perfect. We touched her and smiled at her. Showed off her tiny head and all of her hair to our family. The casket was closed and the 5 of us got to ride together one last time as we drove to her grave. Ken carried his little girl to her grave site, and Nathan walked proudly beside him. Belle and I followed. We held her service, and too soon, it was time to go. I was the last one to leave her side. As I walked away, I looked back at her casket and saw the funeral director standing tall and stoically next to Clara. That brought me peace to know that a father was standing next to my baby and would make sure that she was burying lovingly and carefully.
I haven't looked at my baby since January 16th, 2012. I haven't touched her since that day either. I haven't held her since her birthday. I miss her more each day. I replay all of this in my mind everyday right now. This is the time last year that my baby was fighting her silent battle to live. This is the time last year that my family was still blissfully unaware that we could lose her. This time last year, we were all so happy and didn't carry this heavy burden of loss. We lost Clara, we lost all of our hopes and dreams for her, we lost experiencing life with her. I don't know if we could have changed anything, but I search for a possibility that we could have changed everything.
Amazingly, we still have hope. I have hope that it will be okay some day. We remember Clara and honor her memory in many ways. Times have changed, and people now understand that it is much better to let yourself and your loved ones grieve, and grieve how they need to. People used to have to bury their pain with their loved ones, but now we are encouraged to seek out support and to talk about our loved ones. We always remember Clara, and carry her with us in our hearts.
