Monthly Archives: October 2015

#CaptureYourGrief – Day #19

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Music

#CaptureYourGriefDay19

Since the first day I saw the list of topics for this year’s #CaptureYourGrief project I have been thinking about today’s topic.  In the past I have shared links to music that have touched me or mean something to me.  I have to wonder what they mean to others because like books, music can speak differently to each of us.  The beauty of music is that it catches every emotion we feel.  I truly believe that the music we listen to is a reflection of everything we have been through.

The same is true for the songs from shortly after Clara’s funeral.  Songs touched my heart and tore my heart out still have that affect sometimes.  On other occasions they bring me comfort.  It really depends on the day.  Without a doubt my song preferences have changed as my grief has changed.  Songs mean different things at different times.  They lose or gain meaning depending on our circumstances.

Two years ago I created a video in memory.  Today that song still shares the thoughts that I often have.  “Who would you be?” and “Who would you look like?” are things I have posted a lot about this month.  Here is a link to that video https://youtu.be/WzarXf5z9Ms. It is a song that I don’t hear often but when I do I immediately think of Clara and the future we missed.

As I was preparing for today’s topic I pulled out my accordion to play.  I was so lost on where to go, what song to choose. I thought if a I just played a little music to get it might help me to get to into the right frame of mind.  I had no idea the sheet music I was playing from would be my song and my words from the heart this year.

My grandpa gave me the song almost 9 years ago when he began teaching me to play.  I have never really read the lyrics though.  I mean I noticed the blue eyes crying and thought it was special considering I have blue eyes and missed so much of my life with him.

Grandpa always wanted me to play it upbeat but for some reason I just felt like this should be a soft, melancholy tune.  I am sure my grandpa’s take on it is because for the most part artists like  Willie Nelson play it a little faster. It is a love song I suppose. This one is my sad love song.

Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain

In the twilight glow I see her
Blue eyes crying in the rain.

As we kissed good-bye and parted
I new we’d never meet again

Love is like a dying ember
Only memories remain
Through the ages I’ll remember
Blue eyes crying in the rain.

Now my hair has turned to silver
All my life I’ve loved in vain
I can see her star in heaven
Blue eyes crying in the rain.

Someday when we meet up yonder
We’ll stroll hand in hand again
In a land that knows no parting
Blue eyes crying in the rain.

It certainly has Clara written all over it.  She and I are both blue eyed.  The day of the funeral I stood a long time next to her casket. Finally they told me they had to put the lid on and that when they did it would seal forever.  There was no going back.  I remember knowing I would never lay eyes on her again.

My love for her is truly in memories now.  Some of those memories are old, some are made after her passing.  One thing is certain is that as I get older, those memories are very precious to me.  They will be all I have to remember her by.  I know someday, when I am old and pass, I will hold her again.

Blue eyes crying in the rain…

#WhatHealsYou

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#CaptureYourGrief – Day #18

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Seasons & Symbols

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It is no secret that spring is my season of comfort.  I once did a bible study about the desert times in our life. It reminded me of my time in deep grief, my winter.  Spring comes after winter, rains come after the dry seasons.  It brings new beginnings and new birth.  It reminds me of all the beautiful things that came from Clara’s passing.  Springs helps me focus on the little life we held for an entire season.  Spring is filled with newness and pink and yellow and Clara.

My symbol of Clara?  The pink flowers that bloom every spring near the time of her passing.  After Clara’s funeral we were given a tree to plant in memory of her.  The person who gave the gift was particular about this tree.  He wanted it to have pink flowers for our little girl.

We brought home an ornamental crab apple tree that blooms that most beautiful pink blossoms.  The delicate blooms are brief, lasting just a few days to a week. Several years the wind has blown like a lion. Some of the flowers fly away quickly while others firmly hold on. It reminds me of the brief time we held Clara and how firmly we hold onto our memories.

Last year when I did this project I wrote about the sadness I felt with moving from South Dakota to Iowa and having to leave her tree behind.  This May I was pleasantly surprised while doing dishes.  I looked out the window and saw those lovely little pink buds on the tree in our backyard.  In a matter of days pretty pink graced the tree. It wasn’t planned.  We didn’t know. It was a simple reminder that Clara is with us no matter where we go.  It touched us in a way that said, “I am here and you are meant to be here.”

#WhatHealsYou

 

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#CaptureYourGrief – Day #17

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Secondary Loss

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Who doesn’t want a fairytale?! When we first find out we are pregnant we imagine the journey. It is one of glowing, and growing.  We put together a beautiful nursery and a calm, yet perfect, birth plan.  We expect a happily ever after.

Things don’t always go as we plan.  Some suffer from terrible morning sickness, others from any myriad of conditions that can affect pregnant women. Then there are the losses of our precious babies.

Sometimes your loss happens before it begins.  We struggle with getting pregnant or staying pregnant.  We endure tests and procedures.  Needle pokes and medication regamins and in the end we still walk away with an empty womb and aching arms.

Maybe your loss happens very early on.  We go to the doctor anticipating our first peek only to find out our baby is no longer growing. For some a loss happens later along the way.  Maybe you have gotten a fatal diagnosis at your 20 week ultrasound.  Going home to decide where to go with your pregnancy.

Maybe your baby arrived too early.  Even if you baby survives the first few days, navigating the process of a NICU baby is extremely difficult.  It has lasting effects on your idea of pregnancy and motherhood.  Whether your baby survives or is too small to, mom goes home empty handed (at least for a while).

Maybe your past those “risky” parts.  You are well into your 3rd trimester. You are playing with your baby as he kicks through your growing belly.  Then one day baby isn’t moving like normal.  You visit to the hospital.  You listen to the other babies cry while pleading with your baby to.  You leave with an empty belly and empty arms.

Maybe you find out at birth that your baby is sick or has a congenital or genetic condition. Your whole world is changed. You don’t get to hold your baby like you thought you would. You spend time talking to doctors and watching you baby get poked and tested. You listen to diagnosis’s and life expectations and futures that might not be.  You might go home with empty arms or you might go home with a baby in one arm and equipment, paperwork, appointment lists, and expectations in another.  Each illness you worry that this could be the one that can’t be fixed.

Or maybe you brought your baby home.  He was healthy and thriving. Then one day they are gone.  They go to sleep and don’t wake up.  Or maybe there was a missed medical diagnosis or a tragic situation.  One day you return to the hospital only to leave alone.

In any of these, our dreams of “Happily Ever After” disappear.  Evaporate!  No first steps.  No first day of school.  No graduation.  No sports or dance.  The loss of our “happily ever after” becomes a secondary loss to the original loss of our babies.  It simply becomes our “once upon a time”.

I loved my little world where everything appeared perfect. I loved the world of writing happy memories in a baby book. When Clara died I was unprepared for her loss and even less for the secondary loss.  I didn’t realize just how many babies didn’t make it to their first birthday. So many baby books left unfinished.

Today instead of having a baby book full of memories it is has less than 10 pages filled.  Many pages have a line or two filled in and dozens more that will never be written. On the shelf with her baby book sits 3 other books completely filled.  The thing is they aren’t of the memories I dreamed of writing.  They are filled with three years of #CaptureYourGrief projects.  They are my “once upon a time” books.  Once upon a time I held this baby in my arms.

In a good way the books remind me that there are no happily forever afters but the once upon a times can be beautiful too.  The journey, the people along the way, those are the things I want to remember.  It reminds me that maybe it isn’t always about the happy ending, maybe it is about the story.   A story that brings comfort to others.  One that reminds them they aren’t alone.  Their fears are real.  Their dreams are missing.  But their children will never be forgotten.

#CaptureYourGriefDay17

 

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#CaptureYourGrief – Day #16

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Creative Grief

#CaptureYourGriefDay16

To so many “rainbows” refer to children born after the loss of another.  In that respect I have 2 rainbows… Lincoln and Haleigh.  I honestly have never referred to them as that though.  I never wanted them to feel second to the loss prior to them.  Not that that is how they might feel, I just really never felt they were a rainbow although they certainly brought joy and happiness.  My rainbow just came in the form of something else.  Cakes!

It was after Clara’s passing that I really got into cakes.   On her 1st birthday that I realized how lucky so many of us are to reach this milestone each year.  It was on her second birthday that I made a Barbie cake in her memory.  Each year I create another Barbie cake with a different dress.  It often reflects my ideas of what she might be into or have asked for.

In the loss I felt for both Clara’s life and the dreams I had for Lincoln an outlet grew.  I found the creative outlet for my grief and stress.  I had no idea that these cake skills were buried deep within me.

I have always suggested that the more stressed I was, the more heavyhearted, the better the cakes turn out.  Many of my most favorite cakes happen to also be 1st birthday cakes.  They remind me of just how special each of those families are.  I love seeing parents share pictures with their grinning birthday kid and their cake.  Those are memories they will keep forever!

I often get asked why I opt not to do many weddings.  It is, on all accounts, where all the money is.  I guess as my children get older and the thought of Clara’s missed wedding get closer I might shift my heart toward them.  Today though she would only be six and birthdays would be her big days.

Creativity will always be my rainbow.  My sunshine after the storms, my expression of love and grief.  I am forever grateful for the gift that was buried deep inside and for the opportunity to see it open and blossom.  It has become a way to share Clara’s memory with others.  It is a way to share in the celebrations of many that I miss out on with Clara.  It mends my heart.

“Rainbows introduce us to reflections
of different beautiful possibilities
so we never forget that pain and grief
are not the final options in life.”
― Aberjhani

#WhatHealsYou

Day #17 Birthday-Anniversary

The 1st Barbie cake created in memory of Clara.

Clara's 6th Birthday cake - Jan 2015

Clara’s 6th Birthday cake – Jan 2015

Clara's 5th Birthday cake - Jan 2014

Clara’s 5th Birthday cake – Jan 2014

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http://happycakebaker.com
https://www.facebook.com/happycakebaker

 

 

 

 

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#CaptureYourGrief – Day #15

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Wave of Light

 Crazy to think we are half way through the month of October already!  Today is a time of great reflection as we light a candle in memory of our little lady and also for the baby lost to miscarriage.

This is the first year that we will not be home at 7pm to participate in the wave.  Instead of the waiting to light a candle until nightfall I chose to keep my Scentsy nightlight on all day with a scent that reminds me of fall and babies. It was actually comforting to come home from a walk and smell the reminder of their memory in the air.

We wouldn’t be where we are today if we hadn’t have Clara or the miscarriage.  As I set up the candles and Clara’s picture my little ones again asked questions and talked about her.  Haleigh took one of Clara’s stuffed bears for her animal collection.

We talked about other babies and young children who we light these candles in memory of.  So many that Preston, “Mom, that’s too many.  I can’t remember them all.”.  I told him that is why we do this project.  We hope that nobody else has to know what it is like to lose a baby.  We don’t want anyone to forget Clara or any other baby along the way.

Together we said a prayer for all the families that will always have a little piece of their heart in Heaven.  Tonight we will be thankful for the time we had and the life we held in our arms and the life we had hoped to hold.

#CaptureYourGriefDay15
“Angels of Heaven hear my plea.
Take care of my baby, just for me.”
sayinggoodbye.org
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#CaptureYourGrief – Day #14

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Express Your Heart

#CaptureYourGriefDay14

After you lose a child there is a time where every post on Facebook and Twitter will drive you nuts.  They will make you angry, frustrated, and want to unfriend your childbearing aged friends.  They are the posts about daily frustrations, badly behaved kids, lack of sleep, achy bodies, heartburn hate, and any other tough situation parents sometimes go through as we raise children.

It is hard not to get caught up in these posts.  We want to share how lucky those parents are.  We want to tell them that we would trade anything to have another day like that.  Once in a while we do share our hurt feelings with the world.

While these feelings are true to our hearts we have to remember to see it from the other side.  We HAVE to be careful not to hurt others in our own hurt.  As bereaved parents we ask others not to judge us, to allow us to share our thoughts as we walk our path.  In that same way we need to afford others the ability to share their thoughts without judgement.

We all have frustrating days.  As you can see from the image I chose, it was an interesting February 2013 day for me.  I didn’t post this image on Facebook to make someone feel bad, sad, or inspire anger.  I simply wanted to say, “Here was my rough moment today.”  In no way does this mean that my moment was worse than the loss of a child.  It simply means that in my journey, in my day, this was my moment of wanting a do-over.

It is okay to vent our bad days once in a while.  It isn’t okay for us to judge each other.  We are all at different places in our lives.  I spent part of my afternoon asking a few mom’s, who haven’t lost an infant, about their online posts.  Not a single mom purposely aired frustrating days or “kids for sale, cheep.” posts to upset anyone.  They are simply saying… I need a do-over.

I spent several years getting angry over these types of posts.  I refrained from posting them myself.  Through time I have come to understand that those feelings are a part of my grieving process.  Today I look at them and giggle because I too have had those crazy days where I wonder, what I am doing.  Some of them are even a little bittersweet as I wonder how I would have handled them with little Clara.

As we walk through our grief just remember that these posts are not meant to harm.  Parents really don’t want to sell their child.  They aren’t ungrateful for the gift of their children.  They simply are having a bad day.  A different bad day than you.  Please don’t be angry at their memory they shared today, be grateful that they are not walking the path of grief that we wouldn’t wish even on our worst enemy.

#WhatHealsYou
#MyHeartToHeart

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#CaptureYourGrief – Day #13

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Regrets & Triggers

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What might have been…the trigger of all triggers.  The little girl dancing on the playground.  The first day of school each year.  Seeing girls scouts and gymnasts.  They all set off emotions for me.

For the most part enjoy watching others reach these milestones.  It is bittersweet.  I wonder about what Clara’s likes and dislikes would be.  Would we have Lincoln, would our lives be that different?

Yesterday as I was thinking about today’s topic I looked outside at our slide and immediately knew the image I wanted to capture.  The backpack and doll suddenly dropped near the empty slide.  It reminds me of the suddenness of Clara’s passing. How quickly she entered and exited our arms.

The empty slide are all the memories of a toddler and preschooler we missed.  Her first words, first steps, first sentences, exploring, running, playing, preschool papers, coloring, and dress-up.

The backpack represents what she would have been now.  A first grader.  Would she be a righty or lefty? We missed her first bike ride, first bus ride, first day of school, school pictures, doll time.  Would she be a dressy girl or sporty one?  Would she love dolls or balls?  Who would be her best friend?

While triggers pull at the heartstrings, regrets bring on guilt. A kind of guilt that can be so overwhelming it can consume our lives.  It can lead to relationship problems, self worth issues, and even self medicating troubles.  It can also be used in a positive way to help us make changes in our lives for the better.

I think like most people, I have regrets.  Both Chris and I spent a lot of extra hours working.  I found myself less patient.  Her passing changed our outlook.  Chris became less content with 60 hour work weeks, myself of working 12 days in a row.  When our next child was born reality set it that we both needed to make a change.

We can look back and think about the what if’s but the best thing we can do in memory of our little ones is change the regrets that we can for the future.  While we can’t change these regrets for the child we lost, we can use them to positively impact our daily lives now.  By doing that we turn the negative feeling of regret into a more positive feeling.  We see our child’s memory live out in a way that we can look ahead and say, “Their lives continue to be a part of my future.”.  In a way it helps us heal.

I am not saying that a trigger won’t come along and make us feel regret or bring bittersweet tears to our eyes.  It just means that those regrets won’t eat you alive because they will if you let them.  Today I made a list of regrets and changes.  It is good to see the changes our family has made to our regret list.  I see some places where I would like to see more changes and a few that I simply cannot change.  In that list I feel Clara’s memory alive and ever present in our daily lives.  It is just one way I feel her life impact mine six years later.

#WhatHealsYou

 

 

 

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#CaptureYourGrief – Day #12

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Normalizing Grief

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Normal: Adj – conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; notabnormal; regular; natural.

While grief itself is a normal part of death, the death of a child is not normal.  I messes with the delicate balance of life.  We as parents are supposed to outlive our children.  There is nothing “normal” about them dying first.  No matter the mother you speak to, the country they live, or how many children they have seen pass, one thing is certain… the death of a child is never and should never be considered normal.

When I read today’s topic I bucked the “normal” part right away.  I feel like it is the wrong adjective to describe grief for me.  To me a better description is “accepting grief” or “acknowledging grief to the fullest”.

This morning as I searched my heart (and google) for the quote that most fit how I felt about this topic I found it hard to put words to.  C. S. Lewis wrote in his book A Grief Observed, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”  So true he is.

As parents we will acknowledge our children’s fears. Sometimes those fears are founded and other times they seem so insignificant.  After a while, and as our children grow, we feel they should be growing out of those fears. We will try to squash the fears, telling our kids there is nothing to be fearful of anymore. I am guilty of this with my own children.

As I look at grief, it is accepted in the days, weeks, months, and up to a year or so after a child’s passing.  After that, people are less likely to acknowledge or accept your grief.  They feel that it is something that should fade into the background.  To so many, grief shouldn’t last forever.

With a fearful child we often try to protect them by never mentioning their fears.  We avoid the topic as much as we can.  We wait until the last minute to tell our children that they may have to face a fear today.  Maybe it is because we are trying to protect them, maybe to protect ourselves, sometimes it is just to prevent tears.

Grief is much the same way.  People avoid talking about the missing child.  They are afraid to bring up heartache.  They don’t want to feel awkward.  They don’t want to bring tears.

As I have dealt with the fears of my five year old during his countless doctors visits, medical procedures, and surgeries, one thing is certain.  We must acknowledge AND accept those fears. It is in accepting that they are real that we truly acknowledge them.  It is the most important step in healing.  My views on Link’s fears has changed along the way and as they have so has his own comfort level with them.  Today he is not afraid tell us he is scared.  We are not afraid to tell him of an upcoming procedure or appointment or surgery.

I think the same goes for grief.  When we know that our grief is accepted and acknowledged we can move forward.  We can feel free to share our child’s memory.  We are more open and honest.  We feel more comfortable and loved for who we have become along the way.  We feel less judged.

As we walk through our fears and grief, one thing is very true.  Both will change over time.   Acknowledge that our grief is real and intense and varies from person to person.  Accept that we will have bad days and good days.  Acknowledge birthdays and special moments of our children no longer with us.  Accept the tears of love when we talk about the little ones we no longer hold.

Acknowledge that unlike most fears, grief never quite goes away. Grief simply changes over time.  Accept that grieving mothers will never quite be the same as they were before their child(ren) left their world.

Grief changes us.
The pain sculpts us into someone who
Understands more deeply,
Hurts more often,
Appreciates more quickly,
Loves more easily,
Hopes more desperately,
Loves more openly.

 

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#CaptureYourGrief – Day #11

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Light in the Woods

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My life in the woods was Bri.  We received a care package from Lach’s Legacy soon after Clara’s passing.  That year she held a the first annual Run for Their Live’s run.  Started in memory of her son Lachlan, she opened the door for families to connect and remember each others children lost too soon to SIDS.  That first year the run happened just a few short weeks after Clara’s loss.   It was during that run that I realized our children were lost on the same May 12th day a single year apart.  I felt so connected.  In particular, I felt connected to a family member of hers who began running along side me around mile 1.  He asked me questions about Clara.  He encouraged me to keep running even though I was so tired.  I literally got off the couch and ran a 5K that day.   Together we finished together in around the 28 minute mark.  His comfort and encouragement became the second light along my path.

Grief doesn’t have a finish line like the race.  I often remember the man who encouraged me to keep going.  Not only did it give me strength and courage that day, it gave me that through my loss.  I remember the first time I had to call another mom and talk to her about the loss of her sweet Paxton.  It was this mans words that helped me.  It was a prayer to for God’s wisdom that gave me the right words to give from my heart.  It was because of Bri that these lights came into my life.

Today social media makes it so easy to connect with others along our journey.  Sometimes we seek out those lights, other times they seek us out, once in a while we are connected by those around us who see a positive connection.  Connecting grieving friends can be a positive way for someone who is outside the infant loss community to help their friend or loved one.

Grief doesn’t come to each of us in the same way.  There was a time when Chris and I were not in the same place and my needs couldn’t be met by him. It was through social media that I met another light in my journey.  It was Sara’s light that kept mine lit through some pretty rough patches.  Her little Eli was born just a day after Clara.  Together we have shared many words of frustration, comfort, and friendship. We experienced another pregnancy together and shared our fears and comforts.  She is one of the lights whom I have never met but wish I could.

Some of these lights are there forever on our journey. Others for just a few steps.  Sometimes we simply watch the light, feeling it’s warmth.  It fills us in the way we need.  Other times we reach for the light.  Communicating with that person.  Once in a while we get to meet that person.  We embrace.  It is an amazing feeling when we feel that light that has gotten us through our woods.

Don’t wait for other people to be loving, friendly, giving, forgiving, or compassionate… lead the way.  You never know who you will touch along the way.  Be a light in the woods.

Praise be to the God,
 who comforts us in all our troubles,
so that we can comfort those in any trouble
with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4

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#CaptureYourGrief – Day #10

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Words

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A single word can mean as much or as little as you want them to.  Put them together and you create a story that is all your own.  This image was originally create for Day #8 for {Wish} {List} however I quickly realized this was meant for Day #10.  Instead of writing on paper I chose to lay out my words and fill in the story.  These words mean little apart on the board but putting them together tells the world what they mean to me and my journey.

Here is my word story….

{Clara} is my baby girl.  She is {remembered} today always will be a part of my family.  She was {loved} and still is.   She forever {changed} me in ways I never knew possible.  My {heart} was {lost} the day she died.  Along the way I have {found} it again.  It is through that journey that I have tied the wounds of loss to keep as many of the memories as I can in my heart.

I am always {missing} Clara.  So many days we celebrate her life but a few days we feel the {grief} more intensely.  She seems so {far} away and yet so close.  On {rainy} days I think of her and wonder who she would be today.  Would she be holding a {pen} or a crayon and drawing pictures to hang on the wall?  Would she wear her hair in a {pony} or straight?  Would it be straight or curly, blonde or brown?  Days when I look to what is missing and I have to remind myself, ” {You} will be {ok}.”  Comfort is sometimes found in the memories that we hold.

Tears have fallen when a {video} is found.  We {open} it and watch our little girl smile and coo and fuss and play.  We fall {quiet} in awe of the memories we don’t always remember.  We want to {quit} watching it but yet we can’t be {torn} from it.  {It} is our {little} girl and her beautiful life that we miss and love.

For every hurt there is a word, and every word tells a story.  A story that says, “I survived.”

#WhatHealsYou

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