Her 9th birthday

I was a bit shocked when I came in to post for Angel’s birthday that I had not blogged all year.

Part of me feels some guilt about that - although it doesn’t mean I don’t think of Angel often. She is a piece of my heart forever.

What I do think it means is that I am moving forward.  I am living in the present more so than ever.  

It’s been 9 years since I held her in my arms. I have changed a great deal in that time, battled for my own life, and have had many other great memories, experiences and accomplishments. 

I hope Angel is proud. 

I wish I could hold her and squeeze her in my arms — and tell her I love her. But I know she knows. She is with me often, I feel her presence.

We are in the middle of a global pandemic which means no backpacks for this year. I donated the money I would have spent on backpacks to indspire.ca.

https://indspire.ca/

Indspire is a national Indigenous registered charity that invests in the education of First Nations, Inuit and Métis people for the long term benefit of these individuals, their families and communities, and Canada.

They serve First Nations, Inuit, and Métis students in remote communities, rural areas and urban centres across Canada. With the support of their funding partners, they disburse financial awards, deliver programs, and share resources with the goal of increasing graduation rates for Indigenous students.

I am proud to donate to this charity in Angel’s name for her ninth birthday.  ❤️

8 years ago today, I gave birth to my daughter

8 years ago today, I gave birth to my daughter.

that sentence seems a bit foreign to write. Even for myself, the idea of giving birth to a baby seems like distant past.  was i really pregnant?  Yes - I had life in me for 31 weeks and 5 days. she grew and she kicked and I loved her every moment. I love her now and forever.

the acute grief fortunately doesn't follow me every day anymore, however on days leading up to her "season" it comes roaring back.  I can't help but wonder who she'd have been. I look at my 2 nieces Mya and Ally and they are so different, they are each their own person - Mya is quiet yet very perceptive and seems older than her age.  last time I saw her, she wore a shirt that said "girls rule the world" -- and I have no doubt she will!  Ally is a bundle of energy, very passionate, creative and also a bit of a hippy/girly girl.  She will love fiercely.

what would Angel have been? it's the forever wondering that breaks my heart. when your baby is stillborn, you lose an entire future, and you live with that loss every day - but it comes out in force for special milestones, like birthdays, back to school, and everyday little things too.   What would her style be? would she love reading? would she love dogs and chase Mimi around? what would she want to be when she grows up?

it's a piece of me that is always missing. an empty chair at the table. An empty bed at the cottage we rented last week.

I can't really say how to overcome the heartache. I haven't. I think you just have to move through it, accept it, and know it's part of your life.  Jeff said today that he can't really remember what it was like before her.  I get what he means, I don't remember what it was like without the permanent hole in my heart.  

this isn't how I anticipated life to go - heck I also didn't expect to get cancer either.  I don't want to pontificate about the lessons I've learned from my challenges in life. On days like this it seems not very genuine.  the truth is I miss my daughter.

I think for me one of the coping strategies is to approach life with a grateful heart and to try to find meaning for myself.   the annual backpack donation helps with that.  I also try to find beauty and love in small things.  I try to be in the present, and live in each day. I still have dreams and goals and I work towards these things. I love the people in my life and am there for them. I am still evolving as a person.  I would hope Angel would be proud of all these things.

I get signs from her a lot. I see 11:11 on the clock all the time, and saw it this morning. I see butterflies and know she is with me. A song comes on the radio and it makes me think of her.  She will always be a part of me - that won't ever change.  

happy 8th birthday to my baby girl. sending you kisses in heaven.

Their season

Copied from the far side of the rainbow fb page

This photo was not taken days, weeks or months after my son died. It wasn’t taken within the first year after his death. 

It was taken today. Over 2.5 years later. 

This is grief. It doesn’t expire or come with an end date. It cuts through your heart and seeps to the deepest spaces where it will reside for a lifetime.

Holding your child’s lifeless body one last time...your brain trying to process the unimaginable while your heart is trying to memorize every detail of their face, their hands, their scent. This moment will never be erased from the memory. This is an image carried forever. It shows up unexpectedly and unannounced. Year, after year, after year.

We all have what we call “our season”. For those who have never experienced losing a child, their season is a favorite time of year because it’s their choice weather, carries their interest of activities, they enjoy the smell in the air or look forward to a special holiday.

When a child loss parent mentions their “season” it is much different.

Our season does not make us excited. It is something we dread instead of look forward to. It is a time period we want to skip. Put us in a coma and wake us when it's over. Our season comes with onset anxiety and PTSD. The smells and temperature of our season remind us of birthdays that will never happen, the memories of our sweet angels when they were with us on earth and the worst day of our lives.

During our season it takes everything out of us to keep going. We are emotionally exhausted. We are distant to everyone in our lives. We do not always respond to texts, emails or answer calls because it’s too much right now. We stay in more, declining invites we would normally say yes to. We don’t have the energy to fake the smile and pretend life is great. We are forgetful and unreliable. 

Our season is full of broken dreams and questions we will never have the answers to. The what if’s, what would they look like, what would they be doing now. 

Each year we have hope the next one will be easier. But it isn’t. It’s always the same, it’s always hard.

When our season passes a weight is lifted and we catch our breath thankful it is over. Shocked we survived once again.

If you know someone going through this be patient and kind. Expect nothing from them. If they cancel plans at the last minute do not be angry with them. Don’t take their actions (or lack of actions) personally. It‘s not you. They are using every ounce of strength they have to find their way through the darkness and back to the light. This is exhausting and they don’t have the energy for anything else. 

My season begins very soon. You could say I am in the pre-season phase...I feel it coming. Almost a month away from what would have been a 3rd birthday. Thinking about it knocked me to my knees today, the anxiety suffocating.

But there is a difference between this year and last year, and the one before. This time I know it’s not going to be easier. This year I am accepting it and not fighting it. I know what's coming. I know what it does to me. I have learned and understand what my limitations are during this timeframe of my life.

I am going to stand still allowing it to hit with full force, a tidal wave crashing into me. As I lose my balance I will fall. I‘ll let the wave of grief wash over every inch of my body and hold my breath until it’s over.

When it has passed I will rise. I‘ll stare at the sun setting in the horizon and remind myself, it hurts this much because you love him so much. I wouldn't trade that love for anything. Not even to take away this pain. 

- Elisha Palmer, https://www.facebook.com/spacesbetweenyou/

Thankful for the ones who remember

For my pregnant friends and relatives

This says everything I wish I could say 💜

https://stillstandingmag.com/2018/09/06/your-pregnancy-after-my-stillbirth/

Back to school

I find the back to school photos in social media some of the hardest to bear. It is a blatant reminder of another year gone and Angel doesn’t get to move to her next grade. 

This article really resonates with me. The photo of the empty porch is how I feel💔

https://people.com/human-interest/angela-miller-son-dead-back-school-minnesota/

That day will come