My last post outlined my fear about people forgetting ... and this week I had someone surprise me by remembering. My sister-in-law asked me last night for a picture of her niece. I can't tell you how great that made me feel. She wants a picture of Lily. It means so much to me. I cried - tears of joy!
Then this morning she posted on Facebook about feeling sad about the upcoming anniversaries of the deaths of her Grandma and the niece she never got to meet. Again, it gave me some sense of comfort. I'm not alone in my grief. Lily's death didn't just affect me and my husband. Others in our family are still grieving too. It makes me feel less alone. At the same time I feel happy because Lily's short life meant something. She had an impact on more than just her parents.
Today, it all feels real again. Lily existed. Her life happened. She had an effect on her family's lives. She's deeply missed. And knowing that is making me smile.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Fearing the Day People Forget
It is getting closer and closer to May 9th, Lily's birth day and her death date. I find myself in tears as I write this (at a Subway during lunch)! I'm terrified that after her birthday - the first anniversary of her death - that she will cease to exist in the memory of others. I fear that's it for her. Lily will be in the history books.
She probably already has been forgotten by some. I guess that's to be expected. I know we will never forget her. She will always be a part of Mike and me. But what about the rest of my family? What about our friends?
We're walking in the March for Babies over Mother's Day weekend this year. This walk is also scheduled two days before Lily's birthday. I've been recruiting walkers and fundraising like crazy. I've lost any fear about asking people for money. I thought this event would be a good way to do something for her over her first birthday. Something positive rather than hiding under my covers in bed with a lot of chocolate.
Recently, though, someone very close to me told me they may not make it to the walk. It's Mother's Day weekend after all. I think this person just forgot what this weekend means. Lily was born on Mother's Day. That's why we're walking that weekend. I'm not hurt that they're not coming to the walk. I'm hurt that they apparently forgot the significance of the date.
And I fear that this is just the beginning. Eventually, after we have other children, I'm worried she'll mean nothing.
Another family member told us that in the future Mother's Day won't suck for us. We'll be happier when we have other children. It'll be happier when those children are cooking me breakfast and bringing me flowers for the day. While that may be true, I just feel the day will then just become bittersweet.
May 9, 2011, just feels like a deadline of some sort. The day an entire year has gone by. After that, there's no need to grieve anymore. No need to bring Lily up anymore. That chapter in our lives is over. At least this is what I feel and fear others will think.
Sure enough, May 9th won't change our broken hearts any. I know too that others take their cues from us. Some don't, though, and will expect you to "move on now." Some people will still surprise us with their memories, I'm sure.
I just know I'm not ready for Lily to be a chapter in our family history.
A side note: As I was writing this and eating my lunch, the song "I Say a Little Prayer" came on. This was a song that was running through my head the night we lost Lily. Particularly this verse:
She probably already has been forgotten by some. I guess that's to be expected. I know we will never forget her. She will always be a part of Mike and me. But what about the rest of my family? What about our friends?
We're walking in the March for Babies over Mother's Day weekend this year. This walk is also scheduled two days before Lily's birthday. I've been recruiting walkers and fundraising like crazy. I've lost any fear about asking people for money. I thought this event would be a good way to do something for her over her first birthday. Something positive rather than hiding under my covers in bed with a lot of chocolate.
Recently, though, someone very close to me told me they may not make it to the walk. It's Mother's Day weekend after all. I think this person just forgot what this weekend means. Lily was born on Mother's Day. That's why we're walking that weekend. I'm not hurt that they're not coming to the walk. I'm hurt that they apparently forgot the significance of the date.
And I fear that this is just the beginning. Eventually, after we have other children, I'm worried she'll mean nothing.
Another family member told us that in the future Mother's Day won't suck for us. We'll be happier when we have other children. It'll be happier when those children are cooking me breakfast and bringing me flowers for the day. While that may be true, I just feel the day will then just become bittersweet.
May 9, 2011, just feels like a deadline of some sort. The day an entire year has gone by. After that, there's no need to grieve anymore. No need to bring Lily up anymore. That chapter in our lives is over. At least this is what I feel and fear others will think.
Sure enough, May 9th won't change our broken hearts any. I know too that others take their cues from us. Some don't, though, and will expect you to "move on now." Some people will still surprise us with their memories, I'm sure.
I just know I'm not ready for Lily to be a chapter in our family history.
A side note: As I was writing this and eating my lunch, the song "I Say a Little Prayer" came on. This was a song that was running through my head the night we lost Lily. Particularly this verse:
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
A day in March...
Written on March 17, 2011
Last year on March 19, 2010, the Badgers played the first round of the NCAA tournament, and I was scheduled for an ultrasound at 12 weeks. As I'm waiting for the Badgers to play tonight and for my husband to finish our big Irish dinner, I can't help but think back on that ultrasound a year ago.
It was an optional ultrasound - to measure the neck to assess risk for Down syndrome. The results wouldn't matter to us, we were eager to see our lil' one again, and given that our insurance covered it, we opted to take the screen.
Most of our ultrasounds took only 15 minutes at the most. Not this one. This one was 45 minutes. Our lil' girl was in the wrong position for the tech to measure her neck and she was in a deep sleep. We had to wake her up. The tech poked and prodded my stomach trying to wake Lily. Then I had to roll on my side and back. Then they asked me to walk around the office and jump. Lily would not wake up. She even had her little hand up by her forehead. She was completely zonked out. So then the tech asked me "Coke or Diet Coke?" I had been refraining from soda and caffeine so I was shocked she asked that. She said it would work so I took a Diet Coke. She told me to drink half of it and she'd be back in 15 minutes.
I started to worry we were going to miss the game! But at the same time we were having fun and enjoying the extended ultrasound time!
Once the tech came back, Lily was awake and moving around. It was also kind of funny because she was still not in the right position. A few more times of rolling back and forth and jumping up and down, and she finally was positioned correctly.
The 12 week ultrasound is one of our favorite memories from the pregnancy. The pictures are some of the best we have of her. It's a memory that always makes me smile.
Last year on March 19, 2010, the Badgers played the first round of the NCAA tournament, and I was scheduled for an ultrasound at 12 weeks. As I'm waiting for the Badgers to play tonight and for my husband to finish our big Irish dinner, I can't help but think back on that ultrasound a year ago.
It was an optional ultrasound - to measure the neck to assess risk for Down syndrome. The results wouldn't matter to us, we were eager to see our lil' one again, and given that our insurance covered it, we opted to take the screen.
Most of our ultrasounds took only 15 minutes at the most. Not this one. This one was 45 minutes. Our lil' girl was in the wrong position for the tech to measure her neck and she was in a deep sleep. We had to wake her up. The tech poked and prodded my stomach trying to wake Lily. Then I had to roll on my side and back. Then they asked me to walk around the office and jump. Lily would not wake up. She even had her little hand up by her forehead. She was completely zonked out. So then the tech asked me "Coke or Diet Coke?" I had been refraining from soda and caffeine so I was shocked she asked that. She said it would work so I took a Diet Coke. She told me to drink half of it and she'd be back in 15 minutes.
I started to worry we were going to miss the game! But at the same time we were having fun and enjoying the extended ultrasound time!
Once the tech came back, Lily was awake and moving around. It was also kind of funny because she was still not in the right position. A few more times of rolling back and forth and jumping up and down, and she finally was positioned correctly.
The 12 week ultrasound is one of our favorite memories from the pregnancy. The pictures are some of the best we have of her. It's a memory that always makes me smile.
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