12 years

For the first time in a long time I went back to look at pictures of you Angel, in my belly.  Precious memories and proof you were real. 12 years later and the grief still rises to the surface. I have more courage to feel it and remember now. I miss you.

We bought backpacks for 7th graders in your name. 💜🕊️

Stone in your pocket

“The best way I can describe grieving over a child as the years go by is to say it’s similar to carrying a stone in your pocket.

When you walk, the stone brushes against your skin. You feel it. You always feel it. But depending on the way you stand or the way your body moves, the smooth edges might barely graze your body.

Sometimes you lean the wrong way or you turn too quickly and a sharp edge pokes you. Your eyes water and you rub your wound but you have to keep going because not everyone knows about your stone or if they do, they don’t realize it can still bring this much pain.

There are days you are simply happy now, smiling comes easy and you laugh without thinking. You slap your leg during that laughter and you feel your stone and aren’t sure whether you should be laughing still. The stone still hurts.

Once in a while you can’t take your hand off that stone. You run it over your fingers and roll it in your palm and are so preoccupied by it’s weight, you forget things like your car keys and home address. You try to leave it alone but you just can’t. You want to take a nap but it’s been so many years since you’ve called in “sad” you’re not sure anyone would understand anymore or if they ever did.

But most days you can take your hand in and out of your pocket, feel your stone and even smile at its unwavering presence. You’ve accepted this stone as your own, crossing your hands over it, saying “mine” as children do.

You rest more peacefully than you once did, you’ve learned to move forward the best you can. Some days you want to show the world what a beautiful memory you’re holding. But most days you twirl it through your fingers, smile and look to the sky. You squeeze your hands together and hope you are living in a way that honors the missing piece you carry, until your arms are full again.” © Jessica Watson

Gorgeous piece written by Jessica Watson 🦋

11 years

11 years

It’s almost Angel’s 11th birthday. Hard to believe it’s been this long! In some ways I still think of her as my baby, and then often I also think about what she’d be like now, what she would look like, how her personality would have developed and would she be like I was at that age. 

Healing from her loss is a life long process, however I have more tools than I’ve ever had to stay present, grateful, and just positively move forward in my life, while I am here without her.  It’s not always easy, however I continue to push myself to LIVE.

My mom and I are donating backpacks again this year — grade 6!

the list was very grown up once again, but the shocker on the list for me this year was deodorant! Angel would have been starting puberty potentially, and having crushes on boys. That was me in  grade 6! 😊

It tugs at my heart to think of these important and missed milestones. 

The pain of her loss is a reflection of my deep love for her. 

Happy birthday my sweet girl. Sending you kisses in heaven. 

An important reminder ❤️

You have the power to write

your own story after loss. 

It's yours and nobody else's.  

You didn't get to choose 

what happened to you,

but you can choose 

how you live each moment after.  

You can chose what message 

your story of loss has to tell the world.

Maybe it's a story of unending love. 

Or redemption.  

Forgiveness. 

About surviving the unimaginable.  

Maybe it's one of supernatural strength.  

Or about the kind of 

perseverance that is sacred, 

the kind of love that never dies. 

Whatever it is, 

and whenever you're ready, it's yours.  

Yours to tell

And yours to live.

Your 

story

isn’t 

over

yet.

There is life after this;

and it's more 

heartbreakingly beautiful

than you could ever imagine.

By Angela Miller 

10 years

It’s Angel’s birthday in a few days. Hard to believe a full decade has passed since I held Angel in my arms.

I had a dream about her a week or so ago that startled me awake. She ran up to me on a beach and yelled Hi Mommy and gave me a big hug. I saw her face so clearly, of what she might look like now. 

Backpack donation is on again this year and my mom and I donated two backpacks for a girl and boy in grade 5.

The supplies are so grown up! A calculator and math set. That gave me a bit of a mind trip. 10 years. Double digits.

10 years without you. 

There’s been a lot of pain in those years. There’s also been a heck of a lot of joy, hope and gratitude as I live my life without her. I’m really trying to live life fully and I hope she is proud. 

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.