People ask “how do you do it” and I have no clear answer.
Because some days, I don’t even know myself. How have I gotten past the last
year since the death of my daughter? Well… I have never felt like it was an
option to give up. Life goes on around you whether you like it or not, and you
just have to find what works for YOU… we are all different (something I think
some people should keep in mind). For me, being open about my thoughts and
journey has been healthy for me. Helping others to understand where I am or
where I’ve been, and then helping those who have already been there, has been
good for me as well. I am extremely thankful for the positive support in doing
so that I’ve been shown, and for the support given during those difficult days
that I’ve had along the way. Most of all, I have made it through knowing that I
am not alone, that I am not going crazy, that I do not always have to be strong…
because of the angel mommies who have been brought into my life. They are a
part of what saves me. They are a part of what helps to ground me.
It has been far too long since my last post, and for that I
feel guilty. There’s been many many times when I’ve wanted to write out my
feelings but for different reasons, I haven’t. One HUGE reason is because the
computer we’ve been using and that is connected to our network does not have
word (I am awful at spelling and grammar –please forgive me). Another reason is that we didn’t have internet
for months. But now… I am back and I am writing on a very important day.
As my belly has been swelling with life and my fingers have
become impedingly numb, not a single day has gone by where I haven’t thought of
and missed my perfect little angel. We’ve continued our Yellow Mondays, and
always will, and wear our yellow proudly. Yesterday was a difficult yellow Monday
because it marked the one year anniversary of the worst day of our lives. The
day that we found out our daughter no longer had a heartbeat, the day we found
out our daughter would no longer be growing inside of me safe and sound, the
day we found out that we would never get to know the girl and women she was
supposed to be. I remember that day vividly… I remember that no one would come
out and say that we’d lost her. That she was dead. I just saw the fear in their
eyes and remember the hurt in contacting our mother’s. I remember wanting to
just get home as soon as we could so I could officially break… and that our
tire popped just within seconds of being on the interstate towards home. That
we had to get help by asking Jonny’s ex wife –which meant telling the girls we’d
lost their sister, within minutes of finding out ourselves-. I remember finally
getting home and that Jonny could not function but just sat in front of the tv
numbing himself with watching smallville as I went upstairs to try to gather
what I’d need for the next day in Labor and delivery. I remember being unable
to function. Staring at all the things I had bought and collected while getting
ready for her arrival. Breaking down and sobbing. Pulling down the box of items
so that I could pick what blanket she’d be wrapped in as we held her lifeless
body. I wanted to clean the house so that my mother wouldn’t be bothered by it
once she was here… but I just didn’t have it in me. And that night I remember
being hurt that Jonny would no longer hold my belly as we fell asleep… it was
our last chance to do so, but it hurt too much. He couldn’t. Then my mother
came in the middle of the night and as I opened the door, revealing my baby
belly which she’d not yet seen in person, there was only heartache as we
embraced without saying much at all.
And then there’s today… they day of her birth (one year ago).
We were to arrive at the hospital at 9am to get things started. I, of course,
had my moments of fear and sadness… but tried to be in the moment as well. I
knew what I wanted because I had been aware of these types of situations. I
knew I wanted to hold her, to have pictures taken, to get as much time with her
as I/we were able. Through a somewhat difficult labor (you can read our
official story under “birth of an angel”) my husband and mother were diligent
in watching over me and just allowing for me to ‘BE’. Most nurses were
thoughtful and caring as well, which I am eternally thankful for. And then… she
came… my hours of no progression and then fear with the doctors was over. She
was in our arms. She was perfect. She was beautiful. She was my baby girl. OUR
baby girl. And I adored her. I held her and felt a true mothers love as I
kissed her forehead. I inspected her sweet little toes –the second longer than
the first… just like daddy & grandma-. I places my finger inside of her
palm because it looked like she was holding on. I even wiped her nose when the
liquid had drained a bit. She was my girl. Our girl. And we all admired how
perfect she was. She was born in silence at 11:59pm April 2, 2012 and that day
has forever changed my life. It was a heartbreaking day, and yet one of the
most beautiful days of my life. April 2nd is the day I gave birth to
my daughter, silently, and I truly became a mother.
Then comes April 3rd… what I call “the hardest
day of my life”. The day I handed over my perfect angel, and walked out of the
hospital to never see her again. The day I went home empty, in so many ways.
The day I was officially a “secret” mother because no one would see me with my
daughter, ever. And if you do not know what that feels like… I hope you never
find out. But I will tell you one thing… I will never tell anyone to “stay
strong” again because it invokes an anger within me. YOU hand your daughter
over to a stranger who is going to put her in a cold room and then cremate her
just so you can hold her ashes at night because that’s all you have left as you
cry yourself to sleep… and then tell me about being/staying strong. –don’t get
me wrong, I appreciate those who try to support us angel mommies!! I really do.
And I know it is not said to be hurtful.
So today, April 2, 2013 I sit in my home in a fog. The
weather is absolutely amazing outside… which I do believe she ordered just for
me… and still I feel as though the sky is full of dark clouds. Before Jonny and
the girls had even shut the door to leave this morning, I had tears in my eyes
that did not stop for hours. I checked my facebook and felt so much incredible
love and support. I read of how she’s touched lives and how they love us. I
looked at pictures in her memory and received some texts as well. And still,
the tears did not stop. True pain and heartache… and I couldn’t shut them off.
Which is exactly why I chose to stay home today… because I wanted to feel. I didn’t
want to have to put on a happy face or be nice to anyone. I didn’t want to even
really be around anyone. I just wanted to “BE”.
I’ve gone through her things and organized as I had planned.
I looked at her pictures that I cherish and wanted to have her in my arms
again. I thought about who she might be and how we would have celebrated her…
just as I’ve recently done with some of my friends daughters in the past month.
I’ve relived our April 1st, 2nd, and 3rd over
and over again in my head. Because, as sad as it is, it brings me back with
her. It brings me back to when she was in my belly and in my arms and not
remnants in a little metal heart. And then I realize… I will never allow for
her to be “just that”. I will continue to speak of her, to share our story, to
share our support which I’ve learned through loss. I will not allow for her to
be forgotten and I will in fact help to educate about stillborns and just how
real they are! They deserve to be accounted for in families. Just because they
did not take a breath on this earth, we nurtured them, gave birth to them, held
them, and loved them. My daughter could have lived… why she didn’t we may never
know… but she could have made it outside of my womb had she been born with
breath. Just like so many babies do. Her death will not be in vain. So today,
on her first birthday in heaven, I will pick myself up and celebrate our sweet
Harlow. We will release balloons to heaven, have a cake with yellow frosting,
and think about how she has touched our lives, and the lives of so many…
THANK YOU to all of you who’ve helped to support me/us along
this journey over the past year. Whether big or small, it has not gone
unnoticed and it means the world. I truly appreciate those of you who have
taken the time to read, or listen, to all I’ve had to say. Those of you who
have taken the time to learn about my daughter and our story. Those of you who
wear your yellow in her memory every Monday… and the memory of all the sweet
angels that were taken too soon. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
Jenn
HAPPY FIRST HEAVENLY
BIRTHDAY HARLOW EKENALEE ALYCE.
We love you so very
much and hope that you are celebrating beautifully with all the other angels on
Heavens playground, along with our loved ones that we miss each day!
Mommy's kind of a mess in this picture... but it had been a long and draining day of emotions!
From your biggest sister, Preslie
From your littlest Big sister, Dalis.
Daddy sure does miss his smallest princess!
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