grief

Our Last Day in the Hospital

~ lovingbrielle ~ 1 Comment

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“Jamie came Sunday morning (discharge morning) on her own time to check on us. She told us what to expect and filled us in on how Brielle would be taken before I could leave and where Brielle would go. I appreciated this information and her visit more than she’ll know. I don’t know how I could have gone through the day without knowing what to expect. She loved on us and thanked us for letting her be a part of our journey, she told us she was honored. She is a wonderful person and I am incredibly thankful for her. She is very special. David and I don’t understand why everyone is so kind to us, but we appreciate it and are immensely grateful for it.

During all of the back and forth of discharge, I read to Brielle. I read her all of her favorites one last time. And I saved ‘It Will Be Okay’ last. I talked to her as I read to her and did the silly voices that she liked. I’d play with her and her toys. I’d have her toys give her kisses and talk to her about Mr. Ducky and Elephant Bear. It made me happy to interact with her like I should, like she was there and not dead. I kept my bed up high near the bassinet so that I could love on her just right and hold her. I hated that I couldn’t see her eyes. David spent a lot of time next to my bed near her bassinet as I read to her.

We had another delay because the nurse didn’t realize I’d want to change her blankets. I wanted to have everything that Brielle touched. I asked for the bands on her arm and foot, but was only allowed one. The nurse said it didn’t matter which one and she didn’t want me using scissors on them, she wanted me to peel them off. It took everything I had not to be cruel in response. Of course it matters. Everything about her matters. I took the one off of her wrist and asked David to ask the funeral home to save the one on her foot. I begged that it would be saved (the funeral home saved it for me). David and I sobbed through the process of changing her blankets and clothes. We took everything except her diaper. I folded each blanket and handed them to Mom. Dad took pictures. I hurt to my core. David and I spent time alone with Brielle and we loved on her and told her how special she was. David took Brielle at this point and wouldn’t hand her back to me. This was for the best, I couldn’t let her go. I couldn’t physically let her go. So David held her while I fell apart and fussed over her.

When the charge nurse came, she gave us a chance to say goodbye one last time. She then put a blanket over Brielle so that no one could see her and took her back to the nurses station and to the fridge.

I watched her walk down the hall with my baby and lost it. This was the worst moment of my life. No mother should have her baby taken from her. David held me up and we sobbed into each other. It felt like my heart was being torn from my chest and rolled away forever. I couldn’t go after her, I couldn’t bring her home. I wanted to die in that moment. Take me instead, just let Brielle stay. When your child is taken from you, all you know is pain and I could no longer reason. The nurse came back and I got into a wheelchair. She wheeled me down to the first floor and I cried the entire time. She apologized for our loss, but it didn’t make anything feel better. An apology wont bring Brielle back. David brought the car around and as I waited with the nurse she apologized again and told me this unfortunately happens all too often. All I could think was, ‘It shouldn’t happen at all.’

Once inside the car I sobbed and held onto Brielle’s animals. When we were home I went upstairs, got in bed and slept for the rest of the day. I tried holding onto Elephant Bear, but it was too large. Angel Dragon Bear was too stiff and you can’t snuggle a rubber ducky. I curled up with Pink, the pink fluffy bear. (I ended up sleeping with Pink every night until we brought Brielle home in her teddy bear urn. I now sleep with Brielle every night.) David stayed strong for me all day, I don’t know how he did it, but I’m glad he did, because I couldn’t. I’m glad he was there. There was no way I could have lived this day without him. I couldn’t let her go.”

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Trusting God Through the Pain

~ lovingbrielle ~ Leave a comment

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When I found out I was pregnant, I was beyond excited. Not just for the obvious reasons. Last Thanksgiving we got the call that my Papa’s cancer had moved to his brain and was quickly growing and he would have to be put on hospice. A year ago today, my Dad and I drove to Arkansas to help take care of him. For the next month my family helped take care of him. It was a very difficult December, to say the least, and a couple of days after we had our Christmas with him, he passed away. I wasn’t looking forward to my first Christmas without my Papa, but I was going to have a sweet new baby for Christmas. God had blessed me with a special gift that I’d treasure, that would bring joy to not only me, but my family as well for Christmas.

One of my first thoughts when I found out Brielle had anencephaly was, “What kind of sick joke is this?” To take my Papa and my daughter away from me within a year of each other, on Christmas? What kind of sick God does something like that? I was angry, but mostly deeply, maddeningly hurt. I’m still not sure why God gave us a baby on the first try, that would be born around the holidays, and then die. I hurt, but that anger and hurt aren’t at or from God anymore.

I have a lot of confusion, one day I’ll come to terms with everything. For now, I feel like an open bursting wound. And I hate it. I hate that this is happening now, at Christmas, one of my favorite times of the year. I love Christmas and this is too much.

While I hate all this pain, I’m not going to let it consume me. We get to choose how we handle what the world throws at us. We don’t get to choose what happens in our life, but our attitude we do get to control. David and I won’t be miserable, we’re going to grieve, but we’re not going to live in darkness.

This weekend is David’s birthday. We’re going to see The Nutcracker, take a Christmas historic home tour in Marietta, take the dogs to the farmers market in the square. I’m going to wear myself out and we’ll end up watching a funny movie to distract us from the grief of watching families with young children.

We’ll lean on each other and lift the other up when we’re too deep in grief. We’ll think about how happy Brielle is. We’ll remind each other that we’re not grieving Brielle’s fate, we’re grieving our own. The loss of a perfect baby that was too good for our world. We’ll have a bittersweet weekend.

I’ve said this over and over again, but I cannot stress it enough, the loss of Brielle is horrific, but her life was not. We crammed a lifetime into her ten months here with us. She was the greatest light we ever knew, she brought more joy into this world than we could ever imagine. I’m not going to let that be overshadowed by my pain. I don’t know God’s plan, but I know her story isn’t over. I’m just along for the ride, and I’ll constantly seek out ways to honor Brielle’s legacy. She’s too wonderful not to.

Life After Death

~ lovingbrielle ~ Leave a comment

We brought Brielle home yesterday (we put her ashes in a soft white teddy bear, I’ll post about that later). And I spent quite a bit of the day wondering what happens now. I don’t mean for my life or David’s lives. But what happens in Brielle’s world? What does she know? Of course, I fully believe she is in heaven. I know that much. But then that’s it. And no one has the answers of what happens next, what life is like after death.

So I wonder. Time could be different there, are years more like moments for her now? When David and I come to be with her will it be as if only a few moments passed? Will she really not know a world without us at all? This is a comforting thought, she’ll never have to miss us and we can pick up where we left off. But then it’s not comforting at the same time. I don’t want her life to stand still, I want her to be free to do whatever she wants to do. I want her to be more, she was such a lively wonderful baby girl, she should have the opportunity to do more.

So is she having a whole lifetime of fun and adventure? Is she seeing and exploring things? Meeting new people, playing with her deceased family? I know they would take good care of her. Is time faster, more fluid? I have no idea. But if time isn’t slower, then what? What will it be like for her while we are away?

When I talk to her can she hear me? I know a lot of people believe this, but really, none of us know. So if she can hear me, great, I’ll talk to her all the time! But if she can’t I’m just a crazy woman talking to the air.

Can she see us? If we take her on adventures still, will she see them? Will she know we did those things for her? Will she know how much we miss her? I know she knows we miss her, but can she see how much? Do I want her to see that? Do I want her to see me grieve for her? Not really. She hated it when I cried.

Is some part of her still connected to her body? If I tote around her ashes in her teddy bear (which I’ve dressed in one of her onesies), talk to her, sing to her, read books to her, will she know? Will it make a difference if it’s with her ashes or not?

How does this part of death work? What do I need to do to take care of her? Nobody knows.

All of these questions, I feel, are critical to how I learn to live again. I need to know how to mother her still, I need to come to terms with a pattern, a way to grieve her. To show her I love her and respect her life and legacy. And I’m not sure how to do that.

Do I swaddle her cremation urn bear thing, dress it in some of her clothes, read her books to it? Do I leave the bear in her closet or her bassinet? Do I take the bear with me on vacation? What do I do with this little piece of her, her “suit”, as David calls her ashes. I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. When does grief become certifiable? Nothing feels right, it all feels terribly wrong. It is terribly wrong. And this is where I am, in this horrible world, trying to figure out how to love Brielle who is a world away.

One Week Since Brielle’s Birth

~ lovingbrielle ~ Leave a comment

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Thursday, November 19, 2015 was one week since Brielle was born. It’s hard to believe that she would be a week old already. In some ways it feels like I just had her and in other ways it feels like it’s been years and years since I was holding her in my arms. Today was one of those days where I had imagined doing things with her and I spent a lot of time today wondering what she would look like now. How would I feel physically today if she were here? How much more exhausted would I be and would I even care or notice? How many poopie diapers would she have had by now? It’s the little things that drive everyone else crazy that I spent the day wondering about.

I told David that I feel a bit out of place. I’m a Mommy, but I don’t have a baby to hold. Our lives have reverted back to just me and David again. We won’t need a babysitter, we won’t be drowning in baby things, we can go on vacation. I can buy myself expensive things and not feel guilty. I’d rather have poopie diapers. I am empty. My arms are empty, my womb is empty, and my heart is empty. I miss my little girl, my joy.

Today wasn’t all sad though, and I am very, very grateful for that. Kelle S. and Susan V. flew in for the day from Texas to check on me. They won’t be able to make it to the funeral, but still wanted to see us. I can’t express how much I appreciated their visit. Kelle, of course, had us all laughing with her ridiculous stories. And they brought news of home and what was going on there. I had fun listening to their wonderfully normal lives and it distracted me from my own pain. And somehow Kelle was able to bring homemade cookies and an entire Simply Bundt pumpkin spice cake, through security and onto the plane! She’s so funny. Susan shared things going on with her family too and it made me happy to hear about Craig’s recent trip to Mexico and what was going on with Brian and Matt.

It may seem odd to many of you, but our church friends from Texas are like family to us and helped raise Tessa (my sister) and I. Just hearing things going on in their lives and seeing them warmed my heart. It was like I had a slice of home and comfort for a short while. And I didn’t feel so alone and stranded in Georgia. It was very nice.

I also want to thank Veracode, the company my Father works for, for the beautiful pink roses. They’ve opened up beautifully and match Brielle’s chalkboard perfectly. The day they arrived was a very hard day for me and they were a wonderful surprise that brightened my day.

I did little things for Brielle today. I meant to eat skittles, but forgot, and then was mad at myself for a few minutes because I forgot. I drank a coke for her, her favorite soda, and updated her chalkboard, which was extremely painful to do. Wiping away 40th and six days from the board broke my heart, I don’t want life to move on, but it does, whether I like it or not. My Dad took pictures of David and I in front of the sign, but I couldn’t manage a smile. I tried my best and it turned out more like a snarl. Well then that had me laughing, who snarls in a picture? So then he caught some awkward smiles, which I can share if y’all would like. In each picture I held my belly. I still hold her even though she’s not there anymore.

Carrying Brielle wasn’t the hard part, living without her is. This part that I’ll be living for the rest of my life, is the part that hurts the most. I miss her.

Our Last Night Together

~ lovingbrielle ~ Leave a comment

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Tonight is most likely my last night with Brielle. I’ve not wanted to post anything or respond to much because I just want to soak up as much of my sweet girl as I can. Twelve hours from now I’ll be getting ready to leave Brielle here and she’ll be taken to the morgue. I can’t imagine leaving her and it tears me apart. She’s not supposed to be without her Mommy.

So tonight I’ve kissed her sweet cheeks and lips, and I’ve gone over all of our memories together. David and I have cried and laughed as we watched videos of her moving in my tummy or us having a party for her and singing happy birthday. We’ve gone over all of our pictures together and it’s brought us indescribable joy. As we were going through things, David said, “We learned so much from her.”

We did. We had some of the best times with her that we’ve had in our whole lives. We’re both torn up and in unimaginable pain and just the thought of leaving her tomorrow makes me want to curl up in a ball with her and never let go. And our hearts are completely broken. But at the same time they’re full. They’re full of happy memories and a beautiful journey that we wouldn’t trade for anything. David and I have been incredibly blessed by Brielle. She’s more than we could ever have hoped for or dreamed of.