Last night I dreamt about Clara. It wasn't a sad dream, or necessarily a good dream, but as my friend put it, it was a touching dream. Ken had written Clara a letter that he put in her casket with her. We didn't make a copy so those words are forever Clara's. In my dream, I wanted a copy, so we went to the cemetery and told them that we wanted that letter. They brought her casket in the room and left. Her casket was perfectly white and her flowers were still on top of it. We opened up her casket and she was as perfect as she was when we buried her. The letter was under her, so we lifted her out and layed her on the table so we could get the letter. Ken carefully got the letter out from under her and left the room with Nathan to make a copy of it. Bella and I stayed in the room with Clara. I looked at Clara and was so sad she was dead. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her little hand start moving. Just slowly moving back and forth. I stared at her hand. I figured it was just electric signals still being sent. Then, she started to breathe. Very slowly at first, but then her breathing picked up and got to a normal rhythm. She pinked up and her body transformed into that of about a 3 month old, which is how old she would be now. She opened her eyes and started to softly cry. Not too loud. I knew she wasn't scared or hurt, but that she was hungry. I picked up Clara and held her, patted her back, and whispered comfort into her ear. I yelled for Ken to come back into the room. He came in and asked what I needed. I told him to look at Clara. He looked at the table where she had been laying and looked back at me confused. I shook my head at him and pointed to Clara in my arms. I woke up after that, but I didn't feel sad or wanting to go back to sleep to keep dreaming of her. I looked at the clock and it was about 1:30 in the morning. I felt satisfied. I remembered the feeling of holding my daughter living in my arms and comforting her as she cried. I got to be her mama and take care of her needs. I can still feel how she felt in my arms as I was doing that and it's a wonderful feeling. It's so hard being the parent of a dead child. You can't DO anything for them but you ache to do anything for them.
A bit ago, I asked Sarah when I would finally awaken. Finally feel as if my head had cleared and I would feel more normal. When would I feel alive again and not just trying to make it through each day. She told me that I would when I was ready. Now, I feel as if I have finally awoken. Myself, my soul, is finally stronger than my pain. Oh how I miss my baby and desperately want to be her mama, but I cannot do that and I am willing now to accept that. Clara will always be in my heart and I will always carry her there, but I accept that it wasn't my job to guide her through life, to kiss her owies away, to sing her bedtime songs. It was my job to give her life and then let her go. I accept it but that doesn't mean I like it or that I am happy about it. I will continue on with my life though and know that I did everything that I could for my daughter. I do see now though, that I have to give my attention to my children that still need me. Clara doesn't need me even though we might need her.
There were so many days that I didn't think I was going to make it, days that I didn't WANT to make it. Sometimes I would jump up and frantically look around for something....I had so many emotions rolling through my head. I would walk around lost, wandering, nothing made sense. There was no where to go. The pain was almost unbearable inside. I wanted to leave myself because it hurt so much to BE myself, but there was no where to run. I would go for drives when I would get too upset or when I felt completely overwhelmed with my emotions. I would drive as fast as I could to help take that feeling away. Most of the time, I would end up at Clara's grave, or if the cemetery was closed, find myself driving by it. I wanted my baby. I wanted to be close to her. That's what calmed me down. Now, I feel calmer inside. More in control. Stronger.
I have awakened. My senses are clearing and in a way, it's almost like my own rebirth. I am coming out a little different, a little sadder, but I am coming out. I finally have my head above water and can breath a little easier. The pain is still there, but it no longer controls me all of the time. I no longer fear feeling good because I am feeling good for longer periods of time when it used to be so fleeting and I would feel worse because I had felt good when that great pain came back. Sometimes, I still curl up a bit because it hurts and I have to do my deep breaths, but I know I will get through it. I still love her, miss her, think of her. But, most of the time now, I feel more at peace when I think of her and don't get as angry. I think I'm coming to terms with her death. There is the saying that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, but I saw another saying that I thought was also true. It said, "I don't know if it's killing me or making me stronger". I feel that almost everyday. Am I getting better? Worse? Will this kill me? Or make me stronger than I've ever been? Grief is such an interesting process.
I get a lot of anxiety when getting something for or about Clara. Getting her death certificate I was jittery and anxious. When I found out her headstone was in, the same thing. Even the day we buried her I was super anxious. I've realized that it was because I know there are no do overs when it comes to Clara. We have to get it perfect the first time. The small amount that we were given is all that we will ever get of her. I hold onto everything of her so tightly. I want every second to be a lifetime. Every picture to become 1000. But, I also try to remember that Clara DID live a lifetime. As short as it was, she lived her entire lifetime.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Friday the 13th
Three months ago today, on January 13th, also Friday the 13th, our sweet little girl was born. Today, on April 13th, also Friday the 13th, we were able to pick up her death certificate. I am not superstitous when it comes to Friday the 13th, so it didn't bother me at all to have her born on that date. It actually made that date even more beautiful in my mind. Then to get her death certificate on Friday the 13th too. It felt right. When the lady at vital records told me they had her death certificate there, I was excited but got teary eyed too. Grief is so weird. I'm excited to have her death certificate. But, I'm excited because it's just one more thing that I can have of her. I cherish it all. Her first and middle names weren't on the original because the hospital hadn't filled in that information, so we had them do an amended death certificate. Her last name was on it, but we wanted her full name recorded. While waiting for her death certificate to be prepared, there were people coming in with their newborns. Babies who would be the same age as Clara. It was really hard to hear their little cries and to look at them. I remembered how it felt to hold a newborn and how sweet and perfect they were. I wanted to hold my Clara so bad. I tried to ignore the babies, but one was right next to Ken and I. I'm getting really good at NOT staring at pregnant women and babies. It hurts too much, so I just ignore them. That seems to help at least!
Her death certificate looks just like a birth certificate. It says her name, gender, where she was born, time she was born, lists her parents and our info. The only difference is that it says Birth resulting in Stillbirth. It's not a birth certificate, it is a death certificate. While all those mom's were picking up their babies birth certificates, we picked up our baby's death certificate. Very very weird. But it was so good to have her counted as a person. Her name and birthdate will be forever recorded. She was here. She existed. She meant something.
Her death certificate looks just like a birth certificate. It says her name, gender, where she was born, time she was born, lists her parents and our info. The only difference is that it says Birth resulting in Stillbirth. It's not a birth certificate, it is a death certificate. While all those mom's were picking up their babies birth certificates, we picked up our baby's death certificate. Very very weird. But it was so good to have her counted as a person. Her name and birthdate will be forever recorded. She was here. She existed. She meant something.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Easter (Picture Overload)
It is here. The day our precious child was due. It's been quite the road so far. It has been 2 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days since she was born. It's amazing that it's been so long! Our journey is far from over, but I am hoping that now that this day has come, it will really start to get easier. Time does help for sure. We love her and miss her, but I am starting to feel a small amount of peace when I think about her. It is a beautiful day. The sun is out, it is warm, and there is a slight breeze, it's hard not to feel good on a day like today!
When we found out that she was due on Easter, I felt a certain rightness about that date. I got pregnant with her right after my due date from the baby that I miscarried. I thought the sentiment was just perfect. Since I couldn't have that baby, I would have Clara, and what greater significance than to have her due on Easter. Easter means rebirth and life. Then we lost Clara. She died and Easter became a mockery. I knew there would be no life or rebirth for her, so her due date was just a cruel joke. There is a song that I remember from when I was a little girl. In the last few days, it has been playing over and over in my head, today it is an almost constant buzz in my thoughts. It's called Love Crucified Arose. It's about Jesus being crucified and then coming back to life. The line that keeps playing in my head is, "and the grave became a place of hope", and I do have hope that Clara is not really gone, not fully. Now, I feel that Easter is the perfect day for her to have been due. Although she did not spend much time with us, she has changed us so much. Easter is now the hope that life continues and can still be beautiful, and my perfect baby girl is always with us. Through Clara's death, I can see the beauty of life, and how very fragile and temporary it is. So now the question is what we will do with our lives.
I took these pictures today while the kids were looking for their Easter eggs. I love how the sun is shining so brilliantly and brightly. It looks like the sky is on fire. Like Heaven itself is opening up to us.
We went to the cemetery today to visit with Clara. Ken had wanted to make her an Easter basket, he wanted to make sure she got one just as if she had been alive today. I had wanted to do this also, so we put together her Easter basket last night as we put together Nathan and Isabel's. It was very bittersweet. How do you pick things for a baby that will never see them? And then putting her basket together was also emotional. It was also nice to know that she will not be forgotten and will always be so very much loved and cherished. Her color is purple, like the Sugar Plum Fairy she was named after, so the paper grass in her basket was purple, Belle's was pink, and Nathan's was green. It felt right for us to be putting together 3 baskets.
The cemetery had more people than usual today because of the Holiday. In the Baby Land section, other mommy's and daddy's had left Easter baskets and flowers for their little ones too. I wonder if I will ever meet any of these parents. It might be nice to meet the parents of the babies that are sleeping near Clara. We walked around the Baby Land section a bit and looked at the other babies' graves. In a way, it's like getting to know your child's classmates, except these are Clara's angel mates. We put a pink Easter egg and a flower on Lydia's grave too. I really am glad that Clara has her aunt so near to her. Clara's grave is still a little indented and her head stone is not there yet. Soon it should be, probably within the next couple of weeks. I can't wait to see it in person!
We got Clara a little stuffed chick, flowers, a pinwheel, a cute bunny basket, a pink star sucker, Easter stickers, a chocolate bunny, and various candies.
We also did a balloon launch again. Bella wrote Clara a letter and we got some balloons before we headed off to the cemetery. We even walked to a really open area. Unfortunately, the balloons got caught in the breeze, and floated right into the climbing tree........this is becoming a tradition for us! Maybe next time we will pay more attention to the wind!
Dear Clara, I miss you so please make me a sentence. I love you and if you would be here with me in April 8 in Easter I would give you every egg I see and Happy Easter.
Then she drew a picture of her, Nathan, an Easter Egg, Daddy, Me, and Clara in my arms.
Ready to release balloons
Hmmmm.....Balloons stuck in a tree.....again....
Leaving Clara today was harder than it has been on the other times that I have visited her. The time I can compare it to is when we actually buried her. That day, walking away from her grave site was sooo hard. I looked back at her grave as I walked to the car. I didn't want to leave her but my feet kept moving me away. Today was similar. Not as hard, but it was hard to leave her again. The only difference is that we left things for her and have been thinking about her a lot today.
We could see Clara's things at her grave from our car. Hers is the one in the middle of the picture.
Overall, today has been a good day. I hope that they continue to come. I think Ken is having a harder time today than I am. It's hard for him to think of her and her frailty after she was born. It's hard when we are both having hard days the same day. I always feel good when I go to her grave, or when I share pictures of her or things to do with her. It's a bit of a natural high in a way. I hope that Ken can find a way to think about her and not get so sad someday.
We love you so much Clara! We miss you like crazy and remember you every day!
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Clear and Bright
When someone you love dies, I think it's pretty normal to think about what happens after you die. Where are they? Are they happy? Safe? Loved? Nothing? It's a hard thing to think about, but then, so are a lot of things. The transference of energy from one thing to another, or from one entity to something else entirely. So, Clara's energy, soul, what not. What happened to it? Did her energy just stop because her body did? From as far as we know, that's impossible. Energy never dies, just changes. Then did her energy go into me? Or the air? Universe? Does her energy know that she was once a beloved child? Or, did she become nothing? Did everything physical and not physical end when her heart stopped beating? And then, what is nothing? I can imagine her essence just stopping when her body shut down. Her becoming nothing but our love for her and our pain for her. Her entire being stopped and although her life was unbelievably short, it was just what it was. That was what happened to her. Everything she was supposed to be or could have been stopped when she died. I can imagine and believe that the only thing left of her is her little body in her grave. I can believe she is not in Heaven because there is no Heaven. And, I am ok with that. I don't need the fairy tale that she is now happy and free to make myself feel better. I am truly ok with her being nothing anymore. I thought a lot about that before we ever thought that she could die. For years I have thought of it. And because of that, I can freely believe that she IS happy and free in Heaven. It is way to involved to go into the details as to why I believe that, but it's enough that I do. I love my daughter and I miss her every single moment and will for the rest of my life, but when my life is over, I very much look forward to seeing her and holding her and talking to her. Getting to know her. And if I am wrong, then I become nothing right along with her and it no longer matters.
The pain of losing her has been horrible. After the shock of learning that she had died was over, and time went on, the horror and the trauma of the situation came out more. Oh my God. My baby died. Not only that, she strangled on her cord. All of the fear of delivering her, and the imaginings of what she would look like, how we would feel to see and hold our dead baby in our arms. The trauma right after her birth. The pain and loss of leaving our own child behind. Talking about and planning our baby's funeral. Seeing our little girl in a casket. Babies aren't supposed to die. The feelings that she was ripped away from us. We had no choice. We would have held onto her forever if we could have. Knowing there was nothing, absolutely nothing, we could do to breathe life back into her. How out of control everything became. Everything we had believed in our lives became irrelevant or altered. It's amazing that people survive this and more amazing, that you can survive it with your sanity intact. I think Ken, Nathan, Isabel, and I will always be different from going through this. Some part of all 4 of us has shifted and changed. For the kids, I hope it's a small part for the negative effects, but hopefully will show them that love endures no matter what and will show them what really is important in their lives.
My children have been so strong and brave throughout all of this. I am so very proud of them to see how they have handled themselves during this hard time. I know I have not been there for them as I should be since Clara died, and I feel bad for that, but they have been so unbelievably mature and understanding. We've spent a lot of time talking to them about why things are the way they are, and that it will get better. They each have their own little photo albums of Clara and keep them next to or under their pillows. They know that I will probably cry when we talk about Clara, but I told them that it's ok! They get sad about her and we tell them that it's because we all love her so much and miss her desperately so. It means she matters to us. I was going through my emails and putting ones about Clara in a separate folder when I found the video I had made announcing our pregnancy with her. I put it on and watched it. Bella came downstairs and heard the song and started crying. She knew which video I was watching. She wanted to watch it with me, so I let her. When we announced Clara's existence, I had written, "Someday two will become.......three". She said that line out loud and has kept to that. She knows we have 3 children, even though one of them is in Heaven. For the first little bit, Nathan had been really closed off to talking about Clara or even wanting to look at her pictures. We were fine with that. No way were we going to force him in this area. Grief is definitely its own journey. One day, Nathan watched the video I had made of Clara after she was born. When he was watching it, he broke down and cried for a long time. I comforted him for a bit, but he wanted to be left alone so I respected his wishes. Since that day, he seems so much happier and at peace. He finally came to terms with what had happened to Clara. He now looks at her pictures when he wants to and seems lighter, like a great weight has been lifted off of him. I hope Ken and I are doing the right things in helping the kids along. We are doing our best and I think are doing quite well with it! We are all healing and it is getting easier.
Clara's name means Clear, Bright, and Shining. When she first died, I couldn't see anything clear, bright, or shining about her or her life. Only recently, I realized that that little baby was definitely clear, bright, and shining. It was the perfect name for her. Her essence and memory radiate out and just burn with light. We look up at the sky and look at the stars and know that our Clara is smiling down at us from that night sky. Burning brightly and calming our thoughts. She is our Clear and Bright Star, shining down on us from Heaven.
The pain of losing her has been horrible. After the shock of learning that she had died was over, and time went on, the horror and the trauma of the situation came out more. Oh my God. My baby died. Not only that, she strangled on her cord. All of the fear of delivering her, and the imaginings of what she would look like, how we would feel to see and hold our dead baby in our arms. The trauma right after her birth. The pain and loss of leaving our own child behind. Talking about and planning our baby's funeral. Seeing our little girl in a casket. Babies aren't supposed to die. The feelings that she was ripped away from us. We had no choice. We would have held onto her forever if we could have. Knowing there was nothing, absolutely nothing, we could do to breathe life back into her. How out of control everything became. Everything we had believed in our lives became irrelevant or altered. It's amazing that people survive this and more amazing, that you can survive it with your sanity intact. I think Ken, Nathan, Isabel, and I will always be different from going through this. Some part of all 4 of us has shifted and changed. For the kids, I hope it's a small part for the negative effects, but hopefully will show them that love endures no matter what and will show them what really is important in their lives.
My children have been so strong and brave throughout all of this. I am so very proud of them to see how they have handled themselves during this hard time. I know I have not been there for them as I should be since Clara died, and I feel bad for that, but they have been so unbelievably mature and understanding. We've spent a lot of time talking to them about why things are the way they are, and that it will get better. They each have their own little photo albums of Clara and keep them next to or under their pillows. They know that I will probably cry when we talk about Clara, but I told them that it's ok! They get sad about her and we tell them that it's because we all love her so much and miss her desperately so. It means she matters to us. I was going through my emails and putting ones about Clara in a separate folder when I found the video I had made announcing our pregnancy with her. I put it on and watched it. Bella came downstairs and heard the song and started crying. She knew which video I was watching. She wanted to watch it with me, so I let her. When we announced Clara's existence, I had written, "Someday two will become.......three". She said that line out loud and has kept to that. She knows we have 3 children, even though one of them is in Heaven. For the first little bit, Nathan had been really closed off to talking about Clara or even wanting to look at her pictures. We were fine with that. No way were we going to force him in this area. Grief is definitely its own journey. One day, Nathan watched the video I had made of Clara after she was born. When he was watching it, he broke down and cried for a long time. I comforted him for a bit, but he wanted to be left alone so I respected his wishes. Since that day, he seems so much happier and at peace. He finally came to terms with what had happened to Clara. He now looks at her pictures when he wants to and seems lighter, like a great weight has been lifted off of him. I hope Ken and I are doing the right things in helping the kids along. We are doing our best and I think are doing quite well with it! We are all healing and it is getting easier.
Clara's name means Clear, Bright, and Shining. When she first died, I couldn't see anything clear, bright, or shining about her or her life. Only recently, I realized that that little baby was definitely clear, bright, and shining. It was the perfect name for her. Her essence and memory radiate out and just burn with light. We look up at the sky and look at the stars and know that our Clara is smiling down at us from that night sky. Burning brightly and calming our thoughts. She is our Clear and Bright Star, shining down on us from Heaven.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Easter is Coming
My due date is Easter. I've been both dreading that day and just wanting it to hurry up and get here so we can get it over with. Had everything gone as it should have, Clara would have joined our family on April 4th, 2012, 2 days ago. We would be coming home from the hospital today, happily blissful to have our long awaited little girl finally coming home. Instead, she went to go play with the angels without us. It's been a really hard week because it is now April and that was when Clara was supposed to join us. So much of the time, she seems like a dream to me. I feel like I'm grasping and trying to hold onto her, but she's just out of my reach. Ken remembers her clearly and nothing about her seems like a dream to him. He really got to bond with his baby girl, and in a way, it seems she is more his than she is mine. He vividly remembers his time with her. He got to dress her, hold her, help the nurses and photographer with her. He was responsible for her and had alone time with her when I was in surgery. He remembers the time that she was with us, in our arms, not just in our hearts. I do remember a few things about her, but not a lot. When we got the pictures from NILMDTS back, I was hoping that I would remember more when I looked at the pictures. I didn't. It didn't help me to remember at all. But, it did show me how much I got to hold her, how heartbroken I was to lose her, how very much we loved her. All of that can be seen in the pictures. I will never ever be able to thank Jen enough for what she did for us and gave to us by taking those pictures of Clara. It's got to be one of the hardest jobs in the world, but she does it and puts so much of her love into it, she is just an amazing woman.
Things I think about that I really shouldn't, but that still come. The constant wondering what happened and why, as her momma, I didn't know she was struggling. But I did know something was wrong, I just didn't know it was that wrong. Her movements had slowed down starting around 23 weeks. I wasn't too worried at first, babies that young and small are not consistent in their movements. Something I should have thought about was that for HER, that was not normal. I had felt her consistently move since 17 weeks. At my 24 week appointment, I was a bit nervous but didn't tell the Dr. that her movements slowed. My Dr. measured the fundal height, which came back perfect, and listened to Clara's heartbeat. It was strong and steady. That was enough information for me to put my worries in the back of my head. Christmas Eve, I was worried again. But, it was the holiday and I really didn't feel like worrying the kids for nothing, or ruin Christmas because of my fear. Christmas Day, I turned 25 weeks. She moved more consistently. I relaxed a little, but I still had this nagging feeling in the back of my head. The New Year came and still she wasn't moving like I thought she should. Now, I was 26 weeks and the last 3 weeks I had had to spend more time and fight to make her move. Something screamed inside me that something was very wrong, but I could not believe that MY baby could really die. No one believes it can really happen to them and I was the same. MY baby could not die. I was worried and talked to Ken about it and he said to make the appointment for the follow-up ultrasound for that week instead of 2 weeks later like we were going to do. I made the appointment, and felt a bit better. Thursday, almost 27 weeks now, the day of the appointment came and I was so nervous for that ultrasound. When we got there, the tech went to Clara's brain right away and saw that the cyst was gone and her brain looked perfect! She showed us the "butterfly" in her brain that meant the structures were formed perfectly. Then she measured her head and right away, something was very wrong. She was way too small, the size of a 23 week baby. Low amniotic fluid. An irregular heartbeat. Bad bad bad. She was in distress and struggling. I feared that we were about to watch her die right there on the screen.
We got sent to the perinatologist immediately. While waiting for that ultrasound, I held my stomach and sat in the waiting room with Ken and my grandma. All I could think about was that we cannot lose her. We would not survive it. The kids cannot go through something like this. Not my babies. Not any of my babies. I just held my stomach and was in fear of what we would find. When we finally got into the ultrasound, she looked better. They watched her heart beat for a long time and it was strong and steady. She was measuring very small though, and the amniotic fluid was low, but not as low as the previous ultrasound. The perinatologist and my Dr. felt that she would be ok for at least the next couple of weeks. They didn't think I needed the steroid shots yet to develop her lungs faster. They were going to watch her very close and make sure she was ok. I would see one of them every single week and then more often as time went on. I was to meet with my Dr. the following Thursday, almost 28 weeks, but if I was at all worried, I could come back in at any time. But, when I went in for my appointment that following Thursday, she was already gone. I KNEW it. I knew it in my heart that she was gone that whole day, but I could not believe it until that ultrasound showed my still baby. My world shattered. My whole life lost its meaning. MY child died. I didn't do enough to protect her or to keep her safe. I was so scared of something happening to her and I didn't make sure that it didn't. Maybe if I had disclosed all of my fears to the Dr.'s, they would have realized that Clara was not doing well and she needed to come out NOW! Nothing can change the decisions we made. The Dr.'s felt that she was better off in me. Ken and I thought the same thing. She needed to grow. She was so small. We won't ever know the full extent of what happened to her. She died because her cord got around her neck, but she was struggling too. Who knows if the placenta wasn't working correctly. The tests said it was fine, but it was shredded by the time pathology got it. Her cord could have failed her in more ways than one, but it was also in pieces by the time they examined it. The possible evidence got destroyed along with everything else.
I think of tiny baby sized tables in the morgue. I don't think they really have those, but sometimes I think about her in the morgue just so I can visualize everything about her presence on Earth. I think about the nurse taking her there after we said good-bye, them moving her to the fridges to preserve her little body. Her waiting there until the mortuary came and picked her up the next day. Her ride to the mortuary. How they transported her there, I don't know. Her waiting at the mortuary until her funeral on Monday. Them putting her in her casket and preparing her for us to see her one last time. The viewing room was small, but perfect. She looked beautiful in her little white casket. She looked like she was sleeping and looked comfy. The kids had no fear. When we entered the room, they ran right up to her casket and looked in at her with smiles. We touched her and admired her. We showed her off to our family that came to say their good-byes. We were proud of her. It all seems so wrong and so twisted in a way, but it also seems so right. The whole experience was so far from being ok and normal. We just did the best we could given the situation. When it was time, Ken carried her to her grave, with Nathan as an honorary pallbearer by his side. We had the most beautiful service. It was perfect for her. It was heart wrenching and incredibly hard too. The kids cried, Ken cried. I didn't. I don't know why, but I didn't cry at her funeral. I had already cried so much, and I didn't want to cry then. Still, I have cried for her every day since she died. I never knew I could miss someone so much or long for them with every bit of my soul.
I try not to spend too much time thinking like this. It will only drive me crazy and it hurts way too much. The what if's and the what might have been's. It won't change anything and she can't come back. I try to think of her as happy and having fun. I don't want to think about how hard she fought the last few weeks of her life. Her silent battle that we had no idea she was fighting. I know she is at peace now and not in pain or scared or lonely.
Sometimes, I get frustrated that we didn't keep her longer. Why? There was no hurry. Everything felt so rushed with her, but in reality, we had as much time as we wanted. Who cares if we were tired, we would never have another chance to have those moments. I really wish that the kids got to hold her. They had wanted to and if I had been clearer in my head, I would have made sure that they did. We only had such a short time with her. So so short. No time would ever be enough, I know that. But what I would give to hold her just one more time.
Things I think about that I really shouldn't, but that still come. The constant wondering what happened and why, as her momma, I didn't know she was struggling. But I did know something was wrong, I just didn't know it was that wrong. Her movements had slowed down starting around 23 weeks. I wasn't too worried at first, babies that young and small are not consistent in their movements. Something I should have thought about was that for HER, that was not normal. I had felt her consistently move since 17 weeks. At my 24 week appointment, I was a bit nervous but didn't tell the Dr. that her movements slowed. My Dr. measured the fundal height, which came back perfect, and listened to Clara's heartbeat. It was strong and steady. That was enough information for me to put my worries in the back of my head. Christmas Eve, I was worried again. But, it was the holiday and I really didn't feel like worrying the kids for nothing, or ruin Christmas because of my fear. Christmas Day, I turned 25 weeks. She moved more consistently. I relaxed a little, but I still had this nagging feeling in the back of my head. The New Year came and still she wasn't moving like I thought she should. Now, I was 26 weeks and the last 3 weeks I had had to spend more time and fight to make her move. Something screamed inside me that something was very wrong, but I could not believe that MY baby could really die. No one believes it can really happen to them and I was the same. MY baby could not die. I was worried and talked to Ken about it and he said to make the appointment for the follow-up ultrasound for that week instead of 2 weeks later like we were going to do. I made the appointment, and felt a bit better. Thursday, almost 27 weeks now, the day of the appointment came and I was so nervous for that ultrasound. When we got there, the tech went to Clara's brain right away and saw that the cyst was gone and her brain looked perfect! She showed us the "butterfly" in her brain that meant the structures were formed perfectly. Then she measured her head and right away, something was very wrong. She was way too small, the size of a 23 week baby. Low amniotic fluid. An irregular heartbeat. Bad bad bad. She was in distress and struggling. I feared that we were about to watch her die right there on the screen.
We got sent to the perinatologist immediately. While waiting for that ultrasound, I held my stomach and sat in the waiting room with Ken and my grandma. All I could think about was that we cannot lose her. We would not survive it. The kids cannot go through something like this. Not my babies. Not any of my babies. I just held my stomach and was in fear of what we would find. When we finally got into the ultrasound, she looked better. They watched her heart beat for a long time and it was strong and steady. She was measuring very small though, and the amniotic fluid was low, but not as low as the previous ultrasound. The perinatologist and my Dr. felt that she would be ok for at least the next couple of weeks. They didn't think I needed the steroid shots yet to develop her lungs faster. They were going to watch her very close and make sure she was ok. I would see one of them every single week and then more often as time went on. I was to meet with my Dr. the following Thursday, almost 28 weeks, but if I was at all worried, I could come back in at any time. But, when I went in for my appointment that following Thursday, she was already gone. I KNEW it. I knew it in my heart that she was gone that whole day, but I could not believe it until that ultrasound showed my still baby. My world shattered. My whole life lost its meaning. MY child died. I didn't do enough to protect her or to keep her safe. I was so scared of something happening to her and I didn't make sure that it didn't. Maybe if I had disclosed all of my fears to the Dr.'s, they would have realized that Clara was not doing well and she needed to come out NOW! Nothing can change the decisions we made. The Dr.'s felt that she was better off in me. Ken and I thought the same thing. She needed to grow. She was so small. We won't ever know the full extent of what happened to her. She died because her cord got around her neck, but she was struggling too. Who knows if the placenta wasn't working correctly. The tests said it was fine, but it was shredded by the time pathology got it. Her cord could have failed her in more ways than one, but it was also in pieces by the time they examined it. The possible evidence got destroyed along with everything else.
I think of tiny baby sized tables in the morgue. I don't think they really have those, but sometimes I think about her in the morgue just so I can visualize everything about her presence on Earth. I think about the nurse taking her there after we said good-bye, them moving her to the fridges to preserve her little body. Her waiting there until the mortuary came and picked her up the next day. Her ride to the mortuary. How they transported her there, I don't know. Her waiting at the mortuary until her funeral on Monday. Them putting her in her casket and preparing her for us to see her one last time. The viewing room was small, but perfect. She looked beautiful in her little white casket. She looked like she was sleeping and looked comfy. The kids had no fear. When we entered the room, they ran right up to her casket and looked in at her with smiles. We touched her and admired her. We showed her off to our family that came to say their good-byes. We were proud of her. It all seems so wrong and so twisted in a way, but it also seems so right. The whole experience was so far from being ok and normal. We just did the best we could given the situation. When it was time, Ken carried her to her grave, with Nathan as an honorary pallbearer by his side. We had the most beautiful service. It was perfect for her. It was heart wrenching and incredibly hard too. The kids cried, Ken cried. I didn't. I don't know why, but I didn't cry at her funeral. I had already cried so much, and I didn't want to cry then. Still, I have cried for her every day since she died. I never knew I could miss someone so much or long for them with every bit of my soul.
I try not to spend too much time thinking like this. It will only drive me crazy and it hurts way too much. The what if's and the what might have been's. It won't change anything and she can't come back. I try to think of her as happy and having fun. I don't want to think about how hard she fought the last few weeks of her life. Her silent battle that we had no idea she was fighting. I know she is at peace now and not in pain or scared or lonely.
Sometimes, I get frustrated that we didn't keep her longer. Why? There was no hurry. Everything felt so rushed with her, but in reality, we had as much time as we wanted. Who cares if we were tired, we would never have another chance to have those moments. I really wish that the kids got to hold her. They had wanted to and if I had been clearer in my head, I would have made sure that they did. We only had such a short time with her. So so short. No time would ever be enough, I know that. But what I would give to hold her just one more time.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Spring is Here
For as long as I can remember, I have loved Spring. Ever since Clara died, I hate it. I've been dreading it since we lost her for several reasons. She was due in the Spring. In Spring, everything comes back to life, and new birth happens. But, my baby can't come back to life and her birth was so sad. I see the flowers coming up and the buds on the trees and it makes me happy one second, and then the next second, sad and angry. Sad that my baby will never smell a flower or see them bloom and mad that she died and loses out on everything. She was born in the winter. I wanted winter to stay forever because that meant we weren't too far from her. But just like everything else, winter ends and spring comes whether I want it to or not, and life continues on. The only reason we keep moving forward is because we have to. There is no choice. I would give anything to have Clara alive again, but it doesn't work that way. For whatever reason, she is dead and she can't come back.
There are no more physical reminders of Clara. My body is back to normal, and there are no signs that I was ever recently pregnant. I didn't get any stretch marks from her, and my stomach went back just the way it was before I was pregnant with her. I no longer hold my stomach missing her. That time has passed. Which in a way, is a good thing. I don't feel empty in my stomach anymore. There is a hole in my heart and soul that is from her and I will always miss her so so very much. My counselor had said that the body knows how long it's supposed to be pregnant, and when your baby comes early, your body still knows that it should be pregnant. I think that since Clara's due date is just around the corner, my body and my mind know that I soon shouldn't be pregnant anyway. 13 days. In 13 days it is her due date. In 13 days it is also Easter. If I was still pregnant, I know exactly what we would be doing right now and how life would be. Her nursery would be ready. Her crib set up, her clothes hung in the closet or put away in the drawers. Her tiny diapers all stacked and ready to use. Her baby bath with all of her soaps and lotions set-up in the bathroom. Stuffed toys and blankets layed out for easy use. We would be happy and excited. I would be wondering if that contraction meant I was in labor, or if I was just being too excited. I would be huge and uncomfortable. I would be wishing the pregnancy to be over with and to feel like myself again. I would also be cherishing these last few days of feeling her kick and move inside me, knowing that soon, they would be laying a squalling baby in my arms and we would stare at each other and I would fall so desperately in love. Ken would awe at her and the kids would smile and laugh and fight over who got to hold her next, or change her diaper. But that won't happen. She has already been born. They already layed her in my arms, and I already stared at her and fell desperately in love with her. Ken was in awe of her and so in love with her, but was also so heartbroken. The kids saw her and smiled, but not really smiled. They also loved and love her, but can't do anything for her. None of us can.
We knew that the happy scenario above wasn't going to happen a week before she died. We knew she was going to come early, and realistically, we knew she would only be in me for another week, maybe two. Had she lived to be born, she would be coming home any day. Our preparations would have been different because we would have needed to take special precautions with her because she would have been more fragile for being a preemie. But we can't even do that. We aren't preparing for her at all. We just get through each day without her. Some days are better than others. I can never really tell how the day is going to go. I could wake up happy and cheerful, and then as the day goes on, get sadder and more frustrated, or vice versa. She was a beautiful baby. A perfect mix between Nathan and Isabel, Ken and I. Where Bella looks so much like me, Clara looked more like her daddy. She had Bella's mouth, Nathan's nose, my hands and feet and eyelashes, but she looked mostly like a girl version of Ken. I have stared at her pictures so much and have memorized every tiny detail. Ken will make a face, or a certain expression, and I see Clara in him. It makes me happy to see that.
She was such a sweet baby. That sounds odd to say when she died before she was born, but I know my children, and I know that much about her. I think she would have been kind, and loving, and a bit shy. A gentle soul. A snuggle baby that would love her family and make all of us so very happy. She also had a strong spirit and was a fighter. She showed us that by living for 5 weeks while being in distress. My doctor said that most babies would have died before Clara did. She wanted to live, she just couldn't hold on anymore. In the week that we knew she was very small, I played her "Keep Holding On" by Avril Lavigne. I haven't been able to listen to that song until recently because it made me too sad. Now, I listen to it and instead of telling her to keep holding on, I tell myself. Now, I HAVE to believe that it will get better and I won't always feel so sad this much because this sucks and it's hard to feel her loss so hard and so much of the time. I know I will always miss her and I will always love her and there will always be a very important person missing from my life. I will carry her in my heart forever and when I die, I hope to run right to her, scoop her up, and give her all the hugs and kisses and love that I couldn't do for her in life.
There are no more physical reminders of Clara. My body is back to normal, and there are no signs that I was ever recently pregnant. I didn't get any stretch marks from her, and my stomach went back just the way it was before I was pregnant with her. I no longer hold my stomach missing her. That time has passed. Which in a way, is a good thing. I don't feel empty in my stomach anymore. There is a hole in my heart and soul that is from her and I will always miss her so so very much. My counselor had said that the body knows how long it's supposed to be pregnant, and when your baby comes early, your body still knows that it should be pregnant. I think that since Clara's due date is just around the corner, my body and my mind know that I soon shouldn't be pregnant anyway. 13 days. In 13 days it is her due date. In 13 days it is also Easter. If I was still pregnant, I know exactly what we would be doing right now and how life would be. Her nursery would be ready. Her crib set up, her clothes hung in the closet or put away in the drawers. Her tiny diapers all stacked and ready to use. Her baby bath with all of her soaps and lotions set-up in the bathroom. Stuffed toys and blankets layed out for easy use. We would be happy and excited. I would be wondering if that contraction meant I was in labor, or if I was just being too excited. I would be huge and uncomfortable. I would be wishing the pregnancy to be over with and to feel like myself again. I would also be cherishing these last few days of feeling her kick and move inside me, knowing that soon, they would be laying a squalling baby in my arms and we would stare at each other and I would fall so desperately in love. Ken would awe at her and the kids would smile and laugh and fight over who got to hold her next, or change her diaper. But that won't happen. She has already been born. They already layed her in my arms, and I already stared at her and fell desperately in love with her. Ken was in awe of her and so in love with her, but was also so heartbroken. The kids saw her and smiled, but not really smiled. They also loved and love her, but can't do anything for her. None of us can.
We knew that the happy scenario above wasn't going to happen a week before she died. We knew she was going to come early, and realistically, we knew she would only be in me for another week, maybe two. Had she lived to be born, she would be coming home any day. Our preparations would have been different because we would have needed to take special precautions with her because she would have been more fragile for being a preemie. But we can't even do that. We aren't preparing for her at all. We just get through each day without her. Some days are better than others. I can never really tell how the day is going to go. I could wake up happy and cheerful, and then as the day goes on, get sadder and more frustrated, or vice versa. She was a beautiful baby. A perfect mix between Nathan and Isabel, Ken and I. Where Bella looks so much like me, Clara looked more like her daddy. She had Bella's mouth, Nathan's nose, my hands and feet and eyelashes, but she looked mostly like a girl version of Ken. I have stared at her pictures so much and have memorized every tiny detail. Ken will make a face, or a certain expression, and I see Clara in him. It makes me happy to see that.
She was such a sweet baby. That sounds odd to say when she died before she was born, but I know my children, and I know that much about her. I think she would have been kind, and loving, and a bit shy. A gentle soul. A snuggle baby that would love her family and make all of us so very happy. She also had a strong spirit and was a fighter. She showed us that by living for 5 weeks while being in distress. My doctor said that most babies would have died before Clara did. She wanted to live, she just couldn't hold on anymore. In the week that we knew she was very small, I played her "Keep Holding On" by Avril Lavigne. I haven't been able to listen to that song until recently because it made me too sad. Now, I listen to it and instead of telling her to keep holding on, I tell myself. Now, I HAVE to believe that it will get better and I won't always feel so sad this much because this sucks and it's hard to feel her loss so hard and so much of the time. I know I will always miss her and I will always love her and there will always be a very important person missing from my life. I will carry her in my heart forever and when I die, I hope to run right to her, scoop her up, and give her all the hugs and kisses and love that I couldn't do for her in life.
Monday, March 12, 2012
You Don't Have To Be Afraid
Something that I've noticed as more time has passed since we said goodbye to our little Clara, is that most people don't really know what to say. I think people are afraid they will make me sad, say the wrong thing, or don't want to remind me of what happened if they say anything about Clara. The problem is, is that I am always sad, I am always thinking of my daughter and I can never forget what happened, and although there is the wrong thing to say, just an I'm sorry, or I'm thinking of you, or how are you? is sufficient enough to let me know you care. You don't have to try to fix me because there is nothing to fix. Nothing can be changed. But knowing people do care means a lot and to have them remember means a lot. The silence is what is the worst because I don't know if people do care about her or me or just don't know what to say. Although Clara's death doesn't affect most people's day to day life, it does affect mine and my family's and we are always missing her. She will always be a part of our lives and we will always have a special place in our hearts for her. We love her so very much and wish every day that she was here with us.
Clara is never far from my thoughts. She passes through my mind a million times a day and I still miss her so terribly much. Tomorrow it will be 2 months since she was born. In some ways it seems like a lifetime ago, and in others, it was just a moment ago. I got her pictures back a little over a week ago and oh my, how I love them and how I miss her. She was so utterly beautiful and sweet-hearted. I miss feeling her kick in me, and roll and stretch out. She was always cuddling against my organs and although it hurt at the time, I would go through all that again just to feel her move one more time. I would have given my life for hers and still would in a heartbeat. In a way, that was almost what I expected. I was so scared of my heart and what would happen, and my only goal was to get her to the point of viability before something bad happened so that she would have a chance. Once she reached viability, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. If for whatever reason it got too hard for me to carry her, they could take her out and she would stand a chance. As the weeks went by, I became more and more relaxed. I knew my baby was going to make it! We had come so far! But then she died on me. I fought so hard to keep her safe and she died anyway. It really goes against every instinct that a good mother has. A mother is supposed to protect their child. Keep them safe. Happy. Alive. I couldn't do any of that for her. In a big way I feel like I failed her and I let her down, and Ken, and Nathan, and Isabel, and even myself. I know that I didn't intentionally kill her, and I usually know that I didn't accidentally kill her, but I still have my doubts and my what ifs. There is this great need in me to hold her and kiss her and tell her everything will be okay, but I can never do that and it makes me feel lost. I just want my lost child back.
There are moments that I get panicked because Clara died. The idea of going the rest of my life without her in my arms can get overwhelming. I just have to take deep breaths and let the panic pass. The pain isn't as raw as it was at first. It seems to have absorbed more and although is a part of the new me, I can still function and am finding myself again. I know that the pain will never go away and I will always carry the loss of Clara with me, but I hope to one day be able to just carry Clara with me and not feel so sad. I made a video of her from the beginning of her life until the end and I love watching it. It makes me feel closer to her and I feel like a piece of her was returned to me when I look at her pictures. I think Bella feels the same way. She will watch the video a lot too. Sometimes, she will put it on my phone and go into her room and cry for her sister, and others she will watch it and smile. Nathan and Ken are different. It makes them too sad to watch it. Nathan has watched it and will smile at different pictures, but it's still hard for him I think. Both of the kids are talking more about Clara. Bella always has, but Nathan is opening up more too. He said he was really looking forward to her and wanted to show her how to swing an ax. He wanted to make her laugh and take care of her. My little nurturing boy.
Things are getting better and easier in some ways. Part of the cloud has lifted and things seem more clear now. I am filled with anger and sadness and sometimes I feel empowered in a way because of those feelings and I feel like I can do anything. I also feel the need to make big changes, although I'm not going to jump into anything right now because I want to make good big changes. We'll see what life brings us and what we can make happen. There are also the downs. It is still a rollercoaster but not as bumpy. I can't predict from one day to the next how I will feel, or one moment to the next. One second I feel strong and able to handle anything, and then I feel like I can't take one more thing or one more second of feeling bad. One day.
Clara is never far from my thoughts. She passes through my mind a million times a day and I still miss her so terribly much. Tomorrow it will be 2 months since she was born. In some ways it seems like a lifetime ago, and in others, it was just a moment ago. I got her pictures back a little over a week ago and oh my, how I love them and how I miss her. She was so utterly beautiful and sweet-hearted. I miss feeling her kick in me, and roll and stretch out. She was always cuddling against my organs and although it hurt at the time, I would go through all that again just to feel her move one more time. I would have given my life for hers and still would in a heartbeat. In a way, that was almost what I expected. I was so scared of my heart and what would happen, and my only goal was to get her to the point of viability before something bad happened so that she would have a chance. Once she reached viability, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. If for whatever reason it got too hard for me to carry her, they could take her out and she would stand a chance. As the weeks went by, I became more and more relaxed. I knew my baby was going to make it! We had come so far! But then she died on me. I fought so hard to keep her safe and she died anyway. It really goes against every instinct that a good mother has. A mother is supposed to protect their child. Keep them safe. Happy. Alive. I couldn't do any of that for her. In a big way I feel like I failed her and I let her down, and Ken, and Nathan, and Isabel, and even myself. I know that I didn't intentionally kill her, and I usually know that I didn't accidentally kill her, but I still have my doubts and my what ifs. There is this great need in me to hold her and kiss her and tell her everything will be okay, but I can never do that and it makes me feel lost. I just want my lost child back.
There are moments that I get panicked because Clara died. The idea of going the rest of my life without her in my arms can get overwhelming. I just have to take deep breaths and let the panic pass. The pain isn't as raw as it was at first. It seems to have absorbed more and although is a part of the new me, I can still function and am finding myself again. I know that the pain will never go away and I will always carry the loss of Clara with me, but I hope to one day be able to just carry Clara with me and not feel so sad. I made a video of her from the beginning of her life until the end and I love watching it. It makes me feel closer to her and I feel like a piece of her was returned to me when I look at her pictures. I think Bella feels the same way. She will watch the video a lot too. Sometimes, she will put it on my phone and go into her room and cry for her sister, and others she will watch it and smile. Nathan and Ken are different. It makes them too sad to watch it. Nathan has watched it and will smile at different pictures, but it's still hard for him I think. Both of the kids are talking more about Clara. Bella always has, but Nathan is opening up more too. He said he was really looking forward to her and wanted to show her how to swing an ax. He wanted to make her laugh and take care of her. My little nurturing boy.
Things are getting better and easier in some ways. Part of the cloud has lifted and things seem more clear now. I am filled with anger and sadness and sometimes I feel empowered in a way because of those feelings and I feel like I can do anything. I also feel the need to make big changes, although I'm not going to jump into anything right now because I want to make good big changes. We'll see what life brings us and what we can make happen. There are also the downs. It is still a rollercoaster but not as bumpy. I can't predict from one day to the next how I will feel, or one moment to the next. One second I feel strong and able to handle anything, and then I feel like I can't take one more thing or one more second of feeling bad. One day.
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