Sweet Little Emmy Has a Boo Boo

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Last night Bernice brought Emmy upstairs to me and worriedly told me something was wrong with Emmy. I, uh, *cough* was busy playing The Sims. Anyways, I went over to Emmy and she was limping.

I checked her whole front paw and leg, in between the pads and everything. And I felt nothing. No blood, no obvious break, and nothing lodged in her paw. Bernice was tearing up, so I told her it was nothing to worry about, it was most likely a sprain.

Emmy was doing her, “Mommy, don’t leave me” face. So we snuggled for a while, but she didn’t stop doing her anxious panting or her “I need Mommy” face. I thought she needed an ice pack, “This will make it better!” I thought.

I told Emmy to stay there and even though she didn’t want me to leave her, she stayed, until she heard the ice maker. And then I heard her hobbling down the stairs. Poor baby made it to the landing and then stopped. But when she saw me, she began to come the rest of the way down.

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Snuggling with Mommy.

I sat on the floor and opened my arms for snuggles. She happily came over. Then I tried to put the ice pack on her paw. It was like the world was coming to an end. She had a full on conniption. And she looked at me like I had violated her in some way, it was just an ice pack. Ugh.

After she calmed down from that drama, we were able to snuggle again. I kept an eye on her all evening and could tell she was in horrible pain. The worst I’d seen her since we had some early stage cancer removed. Thankfully, we had some left over pain pills and after we gave her those, she fell asleep.

I told David that we needed to take her to the vet in the morning, she was in too much pain. It had to be bad if she didn’t want any of her toys, including her antlers, and was letting Rosie chew on both antlers. Those are fighting words and she didn’t move a muscle.

By the middle of the night I was freaking out that it was something neurological. What if the cancer came back in her brain? Or what if there’s a mass on her spine I can’t feel?

David carried her up and down all of our stairs and she let him, something she’s never done before. And she let him put her in the Suburban and carry her into the vet. I knew she must be in horrible pain.

The vet checked out the paw and did an x ray, sure enough, Emmy broke her pinky toe on her front right paw. Poor baby. Thankfully, it was a clean break, but because it’s in a weird place on her paw it will take a long time to heal.

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Because it’s a Saturday, they didn’t have time to splint the paw, so they wrapped her paw and leg up and we’ll be going back in a couple weeks to have it checked out and splinted (is splinted a word?). She also has lots of pain pills.

Of course, I’m relieved it’s nothing too serious, but I’m sad that she’ll have to spend the rest of the cooler months indoors or resting. Fall, winter, and spring are her favorite seasons. She’ll stay outside for hours, just enjoying the day, chasing squirrels. She’ll have to leave that to Rosie for the next few months.

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Such a good girl!!

I’m so proud of my little Emmy. She’s been such a strong girl. No whining and no complaining, even though she had every right to. I’ve been snuggling her as much as I can, I have to baby my little girl! I just hope this break heals well and only takes a couple of months. She’s been such a good girl through all of this, she’s my sweet Emmy Lou.

Happy Five Month’s Brielle

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It’s been twenty weeks since Brielle died. It’s been forty weeks since Brielle was diagnosed with anencephaly. She’s on my mind constantly. Sometimes I’m numb. And all I can think of is her existence. Sometimes I want to curl in a ball and cry my eyes out. Sometimes I feel like this was all a dream. Her life was so short, our time together was so short, and I feel lost.

I’m a mom, but my daughter is missing and it feels so strange. So wrong. Empty. I can’t fully handle the weight of her loss. If I let myself think about her absence, my chest tightens and I have trouble breathing. I need to hold her. It’s not supposed to be like this. Babies aren’t supposed to die. They’re supposed to go home. They’re supposed to have loving families. They’re supposed to grow up. They’re supposed to do a lot of things, but supposed to rarely happens. I don’t know why I thought my baby would be exempt.

Brielle had such a positive impact. She changed my life. Life with her was beautiful and I treasured every moment. But in the midst of my grief I have trouble finding the light. Life feels like it’s swallowing me whole and how do I talk about that? I don’t want to drag others into my grief.

David and I have lost so much in the past twenty weeks. I’ve kept quiet about it, because I’m not sure what’s right to share anymore. I’ve lost my confidence. I feel off. Like I’ve been thrown into a hamster wheel and shoved down a hill. I feel battered, disoriented, and lost. I have always shared my true feelings and thoughts, but now I don’t know how to.

I’m extremely introspective and introverted. Because of this, I’m not skilled with verbal communication, at least in regards to my feelings. I write, because I want people to know the truth. I write because Brielle deserved to be loved and known (and she was, she was loved more than I could have ever hoped or imagined).

But now? I don’t know how to be honest and please others. I do not please others at the expense of myself, but I will endure suffering to spare others from pain or heartache. I’m afraid. I’m afraid of writing about the pain I’m feeling now. I’m afraid of sharing the grief David and I deal with. I don’t like being afraid. I want to work through my pain, but I don’t know how to. I don’t want to taint Brielle’s beautiful memory with my embittered grief. And all I can think is, “It shouldn’t be like this.”

Brielle would be five months today. I can’t even imagine how much brighter the world would be if she had survived. Life would be wildly different.

Our History with March 29

David

Eight years ago today, I told David I loved him. It was 2:59 AM EST. David and I had been friends for a couple of years, we’d met on a video game (City of Heroes) and had a mutual need for each other. He needed someone who could heal him (me) and I needed someone who could take out bad guys fast (David). Over time we got to know each other and then one day it clicked. It just felt right and strangely it felt like the right time. We prayed about it and we had an overwhelming sense of peace about the relationship.

I foolishly thought our relationship would be an easy one. I was very wrong. Within a short amount of time my parents made it known that they despised David. And for the following five years they did everything in their power to tear us apart. It was horrible, stressful, a nightmare. They’d tear into David and then he’d tell me that it was okay, “Forgive them. I know what it’s like to lose a parent. Keep trying to make it work with them.” And so, we’d keep trying to make my parents see what a great guy David is and that he truly does care for me. And I’d forgive them.

With an already fragile gastrointestinal system, the stress from trying to please them made my health plummet. The pain was so harsh I could hardly walk and food would stay trapped inside my system for weeks. I was literally rotting from the inside out. And after spending six years trying to get a diagnosis for why my health just kept getting worse, I received one (more on that here and here). David stood by me through it all. He went with me to all of my appointments, helped me try new therapies, anything I needed, David was there. By this time, I had been living in Athens, GA for about eight months. And while I was suffering physically and in many ways emotionally, I was still incredibly happy with David.

He selflessly took care of me, loved me, encouraged me and never once complained. When I needed him, he was there. And he always had a smile on his face and an encouraging word. It was through this, that I learned what unconditional love is. I had never been shown such kindness and love before this time.

I eventually had to make a choice, school or my health. I wanted to live, so I chose my health. My parents were not happy with this decision and cut me off. David, once again, stood by me and paid for all of my expenses. He paid for my living expenses, my medical expenses, and anything I wanted or needed. He never once made me feel indebted to him and he once again did it all because he loved me. No strings attached. He amazes me.

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After spending a year and a half without my parents and under David’s care and love. My health improved. I was slowly, but steadily getting better. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be right, but at least I was better. David and I took a spur of the moment trip to Paris and it invigorated me. And on April 29, our last day in Paris, David proposed. It was perfect and I was so very happy.

My parents and I reconciled some months after the proposal. We had a common goal, Papa was getting worse, and I wanted him to be there for my wedding. Within three months we had chosen Eureka Springs, AR (a short distance from Papa) for the wedding location. And magically, Thorncrown Chapel had an opening on March 29, 2014. David and I rented a historic mansion for the groomsmen, my parents booked a historic Victorian home for the bridesmaids and we had a beautiful destination wedding. The weekend was full of love and good times with our family and closest friends. It was perfect. And most importantly, Papa got to see it. It had been a long time since I’d seen him smile so much.

David and I had a small reprieve from sadness and then as you all know, last June we were given the news that Brielle wouldn’t survive. Our relationship has seen some very trying times. It has made us stronger, patient, loving, forgiving, and thankful. I don’t know where my life would be right now if I didn’t know David. He has loved me through it all. He has never judged me. He has never been critical. Everything he has done for me has been out of pure unconditional love. He is such a rarity and there are times when I can’t believe that he is my husband.

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He asks me all the time, “Why me? Why are you still with me?” And I look at him like he’s lost his mind. I love him. I chose him, because he is the good guy. He’s the best. He’s selfless, gentle, kind, considerate, strong, sensitive, passionate, loving, an amazing father. I could go on and on. And what I really should be asking is, “Why me? Why has he stayed with me? Through everything I’ve put him through, why me?”

If you ever wonder why I have faith, this is why. This is one of many reasons why. I have no doubt that God brought David into my life. And I am eternally grateful. David has blessed me and loved me more than I deserve. I often say to him, “Best husband!” Because he really is, he’s better than I could have hoped for. Happy anniversary David.

Happy Easter!

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The three of us at the "Smilebooth" at church this morning.

I hope you all have a great Easter today. David, Brielle Bear, and I went to church this morning and we’re spending the day with David’s mom and his nephew, Matt.

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All three of my girl's Easter baskets.

We make Easter baskets every year for Emmy and Rosie, our dog children, and we made one for Brielle this year too.

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We filled Brielle’s basket with some of her favorite candy: Starbursts, Skittles, and Air Heads. And then we added some things for David and me too.

It’s been a bittersweet day for us. It has been very hard seeing other sweet little babies dressed up for the holiday, but at the same time because of Jesus’s sacrifice we can be with Brielle again and that is something to celebrate.

A Mother’s Love

When we first received Brielle’s diagnosis and I began to look at images of anencephalic babies, I was scared. Babies with anencephaly are portrayed as monsters or frog like. They are displayed in graphic clinical settings. A google search of an anencephalic baby will leave you disgusted and horrified. And I was scared that maybe I wouldn’t love Brielle or I’d think she was ugly. Will anyone love my baby? The whole situation was terrifying and I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
 
I am a part of an anencephaly support group, I have been since Brielle was diagnosed. And fellow mothers share images of their sweet anen babies. In some of the pictures, the baby has passed and is lovingly cuddled or swaddled in special things just for that baby. Some pictures the baby is smiling, giggling, blowing bubbles, they’re happy, loved. It’s beautiful.
 
I find myself completely heartbroken and in love with everyone of these babies. They’re so perfect and these babies are so loved. Each one, has a story like Brielle’s, a story of love and hope, and trust in God. Each is special. They each had their own personalities, likes and dislikes. A lot of them were active and silly. Each one deserved a future.
 
And so it’s heartbreaking, because I know the pain the parents feel. I know how it hurts to guide your child into death. And it’s heartbreaking, because each baby I see reminds me that another will come and another will die. Each baby I see reminds me of the horrors I saw in the medical community regarding anencephaly. Each baby reminds me of the ignorance of our society, how cruel people can be towards these sweet innocent babies. And it shouldn’t be that way.
 
I can’t imagine a more purely beautiful baby. I need to make a difference for these babies, they deserve it. Brielle had a beautiful birth and loving support from See Baby and Dekalb Medical. The care and love we received is incredibly rare and it should be standard. These babies deserve to be valued and respected. They deserve to be loved by everyone, not just their parents.
 
I know now that I had nothing to worry about. I still can’t get over how perfect and beautiful Brielle was and is. I am so proud of her and I just want to show everyone how cute she was. Brielle, David, and I were blessed with incredible amounts of love and kindness. We’ve been (happily) overwhelmed and I am so grateful. I don’t know how yet, but I will find a way to share Brielle’s story and the love that you all shared with us. Brielle’s life is a story of hope and love, even in the darkest times, and it’s proof of how amazing anencephalic babies are and everyone needs to know how special they are.
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