Today we attended a memorial bench dedication at Vilas Park in Madison. Lily's name was added to one of the memorial benches by the playground. I've had this romantic idea that one day we'll be able to take our kids to Vilas and sit on her bench while our kids play. It'll be a nice family outing with everyone present in some way.
During the bench dedication ceremony, one of the speakers mentioned that after you make it through that first tough year without your child, the realization sets in that you have to get through another year without your child. That's where we're at now. It's been a year since Lily died. We've made it through all the "firsts." First holidays, her first birthday. It should be getting easier right? Some days it is. But other days it's not and honestly I'm exhausted from this grief. The thought of going through another year of this is too much. I just want the sadness to be over.
And I would not have guessed that Memorial Day would be a hard day for me. We already got through our first Memorial Day without Lily and it didn't seem that bad. Granted I don't remember that weekend last year so much. I remember playing with my nephew at Brat Fest but the rest of the weekend is a blank. In reality all of May last year I was just in a fog ... as I was most of the summer.
Today was hard. The memorial bench dedication ceremony was nice and it was great to be with people who truly "get it." Yet at the same time, we were surrounded by families at the park. Children playing everywhere. We've sheltered ourselves from seeing parents with their children at holidays. We've basically spent the last year hiding from the world on holidays. It's still not easy seeing families picnic and children playing. I just wanted to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over my head and stay there. All of this still even after a year's gone by.
It's also a difficult day because my niece was born today. My mom texted just before the ceremony started to tell me that my sister-in-law was in full labor and it wouldn't be long now. And it wasn't. By the end of the ceremony, a new little girl was born into the world.
It makes me sound awful I'm sure, but I'm so sad, bitter and angry. I don't want to go to the hospital. I don't feel like meeting her this week. I don't want to have to talk to my brother and sister-in-law at all. I don't even want to see her pictures posted on Facebook. I feel like the worst aunt ever. And it's so hard because I've always loved being an aunt. I probably take more pictures of my nieces and nephews than their parents do. When my brother's first son was born two years ago, I was at the hospital right away. I cried when I met him.
Today I'm crying but not tears of joy. I just keep wondering why did Lily die? Why didn't she make it? Why do some parents get to see their kids grow up when I never got to know mine? Why are the only things I get to do for her are memorial services or walks in her memory or other things in her honor? Why doesn't she get big announcements of her birth, birthday parties, and pictures plastered all over the place with everyone commenting on how beautiful she is? Why did she have to die?
I know I'm never going to have the answers to these questions. Not that I'd be satisfied with Lily's death if there were answers. But I wish I could stop asking these questions. I wish my whole life wasn't going to be spent trying to resolve this.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
Love at First Sight
A year ago today, I began believing in "love at first sight." We loved Lily from the moment we found out we were pregnant with her. After her first ultrasound at 8 weeks, my husband put her pictures in a heart frame we got for our wedding. But it wasn't until she was put on my chest and I saw her perfect little face, that I really knew how deep my love for her was. It was overwhelming. She was exactly who we were waiting for. Exactly whom we wanted to meet.
She was born at 9:30pm. She weighed 12 ounces and was 10 inches long. She looked like her daddy. She had his nose and his mouth. And his head. I tease my husband now that it's a good thing he's losing his hair because we'll always know what Lily's head looked like. She also had big feet, most likely just like mine. She was the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen. Everything about her was perfect.
I woke up this morning and for a brief second I forgot how sad I've been the last week. Then I remembered, and burst into tears. Just like the days after she died, when I'd wake up and think it was all a dream. I wasn't sure how I'd make it through the day.
Then I started seeing signs from my little girl. I logged onto Facebook and saw that CarlyMarie, who does the Names in the Sand photographs, had posted a random picture she took last night. The beach she takes the images at was full of people and it was hard for her to get pictures without people. The photo she posted had Lily's name in it. It wasn't for our Lily of course, but I was happy to see it.
Later I got an e-mail from my little brother. He told me he didn't realize Lily and the author of Mr. Happy had the same birthday. Another sign! My little brother and I used to read the Mr Men and Little Miss books when we were kids and I read them to Lily when I was pregnant.
It was very comforting. She's here with us in some way.
Happy 1st Birthday lil' girl. We love you and miss you every day.
She was born at 9:30pm. She weighed 12 ounces and was 10 inches long. She looked like her daddy. She had his nose and his mouth. And his head. I tease my husband now that it's a good thing he's losing his hair because we'll always know what Lily's head looked like. She also had big feet, most likely just like mine. She was the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen. Everything about her was perfect.
I woke up this morning and for a brief second I forgot how sad I've been the last week. Then I remembered, and burst into tears. Just like the days after she died, when I'd wake up and think it was all a dream. I wasn't sure how I'd make it through the day.
Then I started seeing signs from my little girl. I logged onto Facebook and saw that CarlyMarie, who does the Names in the Sand photographs, had posted a random picture she took last night. The beach she takes the images at was full of people and it was hard for her to get pictures without people. The photo she posted had Lily's name in it. It wasn't for our Lily of course, but I was happy to see it.
Later I got an e-mail from my little brother. He told me he didn't realize Lily and the author of Mr. Happy had the same birthday. Another sign! My little brother and I used to read the Mr Men and Little Miss books when we were kids and I read them to Lily when I was pregnant.
It was very comforting. She's here with us in some way.
Happy 1st Birthday lil' girl. We love you and miss you every day.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Mother's Day
Last year on Mother's Day, I was lying in a hospital bed begging my baby to hang on. I didn't want her to be born on Mother's Day... knowing she wouldn't be born alive. I didn't want her death associated with Mother's Day forever.
Today was rough. I expected it to be sad. I didn't expect crying for hours this morning. I was having panic attacks similar to ones I had immediately after Lily's death. I sobbed, could barely breathe, and couldn't stand. It physically hurt. These waves of overwhelming sadness continued the entire day. I didn't get out of my pajamas until after 7pm.
My husband has final exams this week, and, in fact, had an exam at 7:45am this morning. So I didn't expect that he would do anything special for today. It was still hard to not do anything. I felt disappointed. I made myself breakfast. I bought myself a nice dinner. I watched whatever I wanted to on television. I hid out from the rest of the world. It was a very lonely day.
Then again, I don't know if I'm worthy of any big celebration. I'm still having a hard time grasping the fact that I am a mother. I don't have any children at home. I gave birth to a child that didn't live outside of me. She was only with me for five months. But I did go through labor. I held my baby. I have pictures of her. She happened. I remember practically every moment of it. But do I deserve a day to celebrate my motherhood? I feel like I failed at the motherhood part...
Today was rough. I expected it to be sad. I didn't expect crying for hours this morning. I was having panic attacks similar to ones I had immediately after Lily's death. I sobbed, could barely breathe, and couldn't stand. It physically hurt. These waves of overwhelming sadness continued the entire day. I didn't get out of my pajamas until after 7pm.
My husband has final exams this week, and, in fact, had an exam at 7:45am this morning. So I didn't expect that he would do anything special for today. It was still hard to not do anything. I felt disappointed. I made myself breakfast. I bought myself a nice dinner. I watched whatever I wanted to on television. I hid out from the rest of the world. It was a very lonely day.
Then again, I don't know if I'm worthy of any big celebration. I'm still having a hard time grasping the fact that I am a mother. I don't have any children at home. I gave birth to a child that didn't live outside of me. She was only with me for five months. But I did go through labor. I held my baby. I have pictures of her. She happened. I remember practically every moment of it. But do I deserve a day to celebrate my motherhood? I feel like I failed at the motherhood part...
Friday, April 22, 2011
And then someone surprises you...
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Why?????
One of my best friends is a fellow BLM. She lost her first child at 16 weeks. A boy named Alexander. She miscarried after that. A blighted ovum. She gave birth prematurely to a beautiful little boy, Christopher, in December 2009. Unfortunately, he was born with a lot of problems. He died in February 2010.
Now, after months of trying, she found out she was pregnant this February. Given her history, she was seeing the doctors almost every week since and had multiple ultrasounds. Last week, they saw a heartbeat! She was elated. But the heartbeat wasn't as strong as it should have been so they wanted to see her again this week. Today, she got the worst news ever. There's no heartbeat. The baby's gone.
It makes me so mad. She's a beautiful person who'd be a fabulous mother. I just don't understand why this would keep happening. What makes her unworthy?
I'm so upset. I'm hoping Lily's giving big hugs to Christopher tonight.
Now, after months of trying, she found out she was pregnant this February. Given her history, she was seeing the doctors almost every week since and had multiple ultrasounds. Last week, they saw a heartbeat! She was elated. But the heartbeat wasn't as strong as it should have been so they wanted to see her again this week. Today, she got the worst news ever. There's no heartbeat. The baby's gone.
It makes me so mad. She's a beautiful person who'd be a fabulous mother. I just don't understand why this would keep happening. What makes her unworthy?
I'm so upset. I'm hoping Lily's giving big hugs to Christopher tonight.
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