Friday, October 18, 2013

Aching Heart

How do you release your child? How is it possible? It doesn't make sense? Every ounce of my body it felt so wrong. I am suppose to die before my child, my head says. So what the hell is happening? How did she die before me? My heart yearns to care for her. To hold her, my arms feel so heavy and they ache so badly.. I wanted to hold her longer, to raise her. I wanted to see her grow into a girl, a woman. I wanted to mother her.

But it wasn't meant to be. She was meant to come into my life and change me in ways I never thought possible. So on this day, the day of her funeral, I had to release her body into the ground. I had to kiss her lips for the last time. I had to smooth her hair, and feel her soft cheeks against mine for the last time. I had to hold her close and tell her how much I loved her. Gaze upon her radiant face for the last time. My heart exploding with pain. My tears streaming down my cheeks. How can I go on? How is this possible to live without a piece of your heart?

I've gone through many dark, dark places since this day. I've cried for hours, so many hours, so long and hard while my head exploded with pain. My heart shaking with extreme longing. My life feeling so worthless. So many times I've had to release my pain, my tears, my anger. I've had to come to place where I could feel her next to me, even though she isn't. Those are the days, the moments I live for. I live for her life, her life holds so much meaning. She has given me meaning. Luke has given my life meaning. My child, even though I had to give her back to the earth, I will never give away all the memories of her. All the love I hold for her. She is my strength and my guide from another world.

My post inspired by Carlymarie's 'Capture your grief project' 2013

Friday, October 11, 2013


As a grieving parent. Triggers come in all forms. For me, a trigger that brings out my pain and sadness is remembering the day that we received Lucy's diagnosis. And I wasn't sure if I should write about this or not, I wasn't sure if I was ready to write it all down and share it with you all. But I must. I need to talk about it.

We were planning a homebirth from the beginning. We decided that an ultrasound was not necessary unless we had pregnancy complications. And we did. Beginning at 20 weeks I started developing high blood pressure that kept on rising and rising. We tried everything we could think of to lower it. From diet change, to chiropractor, to bed rest, to anything and everything you can think of. Nothing helped. and at 36 weeks I was measuring very low, about 5 weeks behind. I knew from my own motherly instincts that something was wrong. I'd known this for a my whole pregnancy in fact, but I always blew it off, like I was being worried for nothing. I knew it was time to make sure our baby was developing properly and that she was not at risk because having high BP can really mess things up in pregnancy. My husband and I were worried that possibly I had pre-eclampsia and that our dreams of a homebirth would go out the window. This was our worry at the time. We go into the dimly lit room where the ultrasound tech was getting things ready. I lied down. I pulled up my shirt where my full round belly was peaking out. She starts the scan. I can't really tell what I'm seeing because by know Lucy had grown so big that it was hard to get a clear picture. I could tell by the way the tech fumbled and glanced nervously around the room that something was wrong. She picked up her phone and said that she needed a nurse to come in and take a second look. My ears shot up and I got really scared. I asked "Is there something wrong with our baby?". And the tech said, "I think the doctor needs to explain things to you." At this point I can't hold in my worry and scared emotions. I start panicing. The doctor comes in and sits down in his chair, with tears in his eyes. I look at him and start bawling as he says the words. "I'm so sorry, your baby has a neural tube defect called anencephaly and she is not compatible with life, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this." From this moment on, everything this doctor was saying to me was mute in my head. I was in a daze, my tears couldn't stop, I could not breathe, I felt like my life was ending, everything was in slow motion, a blur. "how could this be?, but how is she living now inside of me? When she is born will she live, at all? how can you say she is incompatible with life when she is living inside of me right now? she won't have the top of her head, how is that even possible?" I must have asked these questions over and over, just not believing what I was hearing. And I know he answered them. I know he wanted to induce me that very day. I had brains enough to say that we needed to go home and talk about it. We went home in a daze, I told my close friend that I was pregnant with at the time and she cried with me. We told our son, we couldn't keep it from him. We told him that our baby was very sick and would not live for very long after birth, that is if she did live at all. It was the hardest thing to say, to tell your dear child, the child who wanted this baby so badly that she was going to be ripped from his arms. This is my emotional trigger, this is what I can't talk about or discuss without crying my eyes out. That day feels like the day the world ended for me and for our family. Life has changed so much, I love our Lucy and am so grateful that she lived and is part of our lives. But now that she is gone I am also so full of a magnatude of pain, grief and sadness.

This picture was taken 8 days after finding out Lucys diagnosis. Luke painted my belly with a galent sunflower, because we had by now chosen Lucy's beautiful name. And he took the photo of me as well.

My post  inspired by Carlymarie's 'Capture your grief project' 2013

Thursday, October 10, 2013


Lucy was born in the spring. I have yet to go through a whole spring without her. I'm sure I will smell the flowers more, breathe in the wind and be still, enjoy every moment of her season, remembering her life and reliving the feels and sounds of her days. I bet I will want to journey back to the farmland where we were living durning her life. The horses across the street with their neighs for fresh carrots and grass. The fields covered in buttercups and the fragrant smell of flowers. The fresh spring showers, with the fog creeping all around. I dream about this feel, hoping that even through the pain, I will be able to remember and cherish this time of year. Life is so hard without my daughter snuggled up against my breast. How will I go on when she can't cling to me as I hold her up to smell the beautiful roses of spring? How can I survive the spring when she won't be able to pick a flower and run up to me with a beautiful smile on her face saying "This is for you mama". I already miss these moments of life.

Winter was when Lucy was kicking and squirming around inside of me. I remember so vividly the strong kicks and hiccups she made. I remember lying there smiling a huge smile as I stroked my round belly and she responded so vibrantly with her strong movements. I treasure the days of long walks down to see the field full of horses , the walks in the quiet beautiful path near our home. Going out to keep healthy and spend quality time with my sweet Lucy. Anything to be alone with her, talking to her and whispering sweet things. I miss being with her, I miss caring her and nourishing her within me. Lucy was not just with us for 33 hours. She was with us for 40.5 weeks as well and those days were just as special and I cherish them with all my heart.

This is a photo of the field of horses where we took long strolls throughout our pregnancy and where we pet and fed the horses. This particular day I was out alone treasuring the silence when a quiet light rain shower came up upon me and as the fog grew around us so thick and cool, I sat there wondering and hoping for a miracle.. Maybe she will be okay? Maybe it was all wrong. Begging and pleading that she would heal and we would live happily ever after.. This was mid January when the trees were bare and the horses were grazing in the not so green pasture.

My post inspired by Carlymarie's 'Capture your grief project' 2013

Saturday, October 5, 2013

First Memory

My first memory of Lucy was when we found out the wonderful news that we were pregnant. We had started our 4 week road trip and we were staying the night in a hotel in Tennessee. I woke up early and just couldn't wait to check and see.. and there it were the 1, or was it 2 red lines, I wasn't sure at first so I woke up my husband and he was super positive that we were pregnant! We were overjoyed and so excited about telling my son that we told him that day. My son was begging us for a sibling for 2 years already. It was so amazing telling him, he had so many questions and was grinning from ear to ear.

So there we were on the road, talking, dreaming and on top of the world, traveling through St. Louis, then to Chicago, camping in Michigan and in Canada, staying in Toronto, visiting beautiful Niagara falls, then to Ottawa, Montreal, and then to Connecticut, NYC and then back to Clemson, SC, Wow! There is one word to describe our state of mind on this trip. Happiness. Complete happiness. I was so thrilled to be caring and growing a little love inside of me. I felt so alive and I felt so important and just completely amazing. Here in this picture we were camping in rural Michigan state and I am swimming nude on a deserted beach on Lake Superior! Oh I remember being there, the waves so big and beautiful, the water so crisp and fresh, the sand so soft and lovely. My husband and son were on the beach laughing at me as I was running like a happy wild pregnant lady into the cool, crisp water. Such a perfect moment in time.

My post inspired by Carlymarie's 'Capture your grief project' 2013