Hopefully

I know I've said I think about babies and pregnancies in terms of "hopefully," but it breaks my heart to hear others do it.

This evening as we said bedtime prayers, Matt was saying thanks for the last year.  He listed off so many of our blessings.  And then he asked blessings for the new year and things we are planning for and added "And hopefully to have a new child this next year."

Hearing it from my husband just tore my heart out but really put me at peace too.  I'm not alone in this.  I'm not the only one who is scared and wonders.

Cora's death didn't just affect me.  It affected us.  I think it's easy to forget sometimes that he's a grieving parent, too, because he deals with it so differently than I do.  But that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it.

Disconnected (pregnancy mentioned)

I feel like I'm lying to people when I talk about being pregnant.  I'm starting to feel it physically more, which is good, but when it comes to the idea of actually having a baby come August....it feels like a sham.

I had such an instant bond with Cora.  It felt surreal, in that you can't really comprehend what it is actually like to experience something you haven't yet, but I could dream about her in a real way.  I expected to get a baby out of it.

I didn't with Erin and Patrick.  And especially not now.  Maybe it's not "especially" in that it's harder for me now than it was with them, but because I was expecting it to get better or easier being 4 1/2 years removed and having had 2 live births since.

But I don't.  I don't believe it.  Not yet.  And that fact makes me want to cry.

And time just moves forward.

As New Year's approaches, it's always a little hard for me.  Another year.  Another year without Cora.  Another year further from holding her, touching her, whispering gently to her.  Another year further away.

Sometimes I wish I knew the exact date of my death.  Morbid? Maybe.  I don't long to die.  I have way too much to live for right now.  People who need me more than Cora does.  Whom I need as much as Cora (and since there are 3 of them, they win).  But if I knew I was going to die, say, August 4, 2065, then I could count down.  "55 years, 7 months and 1 week until I see Cora again."

It's not to say I don't appreciate my time here.  I'm grateful for every day.  But you can be grateful for the time you have while still looking forward to what it will be like.

I have an image in my mind of what it'll be like.  It'll probably be a million times more beautiful than anything I can imagine.

redheads and angels

I teach in the primary Sunday school in my church.  The class that Cora would be in actually sits in front of mine during our sharing time, before we split to individual classes. ((The first Sunday I started teaching was actually Cora's birthday, and when I realized that was the class she should be in...that was hard.))  Today that class had a visitor.  Well, they had 3, but there was one little girl in particular.  She was sitting right in front of me, and she had the most gorgeous red ringlets.  I had a hard time both not staring at her, and not crying.  Over and over my mind kept saying "That should be Cora.  That should be Cora."  It really made me miss her.


And this evening I decided I should get some cards made while I'm still feeling decent.  We have 3 good friends due before the end of February.  So I pulled out my mini acrylic "new baby" stamps.  I've never really looked at them before.  One of them said "our sweet little angel."  I admit, I pulled it off and threw it away.  I'm never going to use it.  I just don't have that reference anymore.

I have a sweet little angel.  I cannot use that term for Erin or Patrick (they don't have clothes that use that phrase on it).  Cora's my angel.  I envy people who can call babies angels and have no reason to cringe at the word.

Christmas Eve letter

((Every year I write Cora a letter and stick it in her stocking on Christmas Eve when I fill the others))

Dear Cora,
I'm getting ready to stuff your siblings' stalkings, and it makes me sad that all I have for you is this letter.  Each year that passes hurts just like the last.  I have so much that I've been blessed with, but I still ache without you.

I love you my darling girl, and that means I miss you more than I can breathe sometimes.

But I am so grateful I was blessed to be your mother.  Your short life changed me in so many amazing ways.  You are here with me always and I am grateful for that.

I love you angel girl,
~Mommy~

Not 3. This is my 4th child.

I'm getting tired of people congratulating me on baby #3.  I have baby #3.  His name is Patrick, and he's currently trying to climb on my back.  I adore him.

Erin (who is telling me she's hungry and not understanding when I'm telling her it has to cook) is baby #2.

Cora was, is, and always will be my first baby.  Just because I didn't get to take her home, and or take all the pictures of her I have of her siblings, or having her family pictures, doesn't mean she's not my child.

In ways, she's more my child that Skittles is right now.

But I can't forget her.  I have to acknowledge her.  She's my firstborn, always and forever.


And I miss her so much.

Pregnancy mentioned

I just wanted to let everyone know here that I got a positive pregnancy test this morning.  Most of my pregnancy goings-on will be documented on my other blog, but if my previous two pregnancies are any clue, I'm going to be really emotional and fearful at times, and it feels like this would be a better place for that, since it really is Cora related.  I'll try to have a warning in the title though.

My due date is hard to explain to people.  "September 2nd, but we'll be inducing early, so end of August."  I should probably just say "end of August," right?  I hate trying to explain to people why I'm already planning on inducing.  Especially when they're very pro-natural-birth.  I can't explain the panic attacks and the nightmares.

With Patrick I had decided I wanted to go into labor on my own.  I made it to 39w3d before completely losing it when talking to my OB.  My blood pressure had been steadily rising with each appointment (not dangerously, but enough to show a lot of stress), and she said that she could tell how stressed I was as each appointment came and went (I was going 2x a week), and with the nightmares it was just getting out of hand.  She reminded me that going into labor, while a good thing, probably didn't have enough benefits to warrant the amount of stress I was enduring.

So I don't plan on doing it again.  Even if it's an induction at 39 weeks instead of 38, I think I can handle a week past my loss point if I know when it's going to happen.

Anyway, needless to say I'm very excited and extremely terrified all at once.  *deep breaths*  What will be will be.  I'm just going to celebrate every second I have with my little Skittles.

All the ways that she is here.

Sometimes it gets so easy to see all the things we don't have, and forget the things that we do.  Cora may not be here physically, but she is here, all around me.  I have bought something for Cora every Christmas so far, and so after my last post in a fit of depression, I'd thought I'd share her things.

2006 was my first Christmas without her.  On top of it being that, and her should-be first Christmas, I was also pregnant with Erin and therefore very emotional.  I found a book, called A Christmas Bell for Anya, and it made me cry so hard I had to buy it.  The story is of a bellmaker in Russia and his 8-year-old daughter.  2 days before Christmas a revolutionary mob tore through his little village and Anya was killed.  He lay in his cold empty house for 2 days, and then on Christmas morning he heard the bells.  Anya had been chosen to be an angel in the village's Christmas pageant and he had made her a special bell to ring, and that morning the bells were ringing without her.  But he seemed to hear her voice in the peals and she said to him "Christ was born so that I may live again.  Ring my bell for me on Christmas morning and remember."

So I went on a search for the perfect bell.  And it was really hard to find one that would actually ring.  I found a set of 6 that would go on the tree.  (Erin and Patrick have been ringing them since the tree went up.  It makes me happy).

And then after I'd given up on finding the perfect one, I found this.  And yes, I ring it every Christmas morning.

In 2007 I wasn't looking for anything in particular.  It was Erin's first Christmas, so that day I was actually looking for an ornament for her.  And I found this

It sits on her shelf and is up all year round.

In 2008 I was pregnant with Patrick.  I decided to make us all stockings, and I couldn't leave Cora out.  I told my husband that it broke my heart to have it empty on Christmas morning, though, so every year Santa has put chocolate covered orange sticks in there for the family.  Last year I wrote a letter to her and put it in there on Christmas Eve.  I plan on doing that every year.

Last year I found this gorgeous angel.  It says "Perhaps they are not stars in the sky, but rather openings where our loved ones smile down to let us know that they are happy."

And this year, I bought this.  It wasn't specifically for Cora, but I decided to buy it specifically so I could put her name on it.

And of course, every year I make her a snowflake.

She isn't completely gone.  She is all around me.  Sometimes I forget that though.  It's good to remember.

No presents under the tree

I've done a lot of wrapping in the last few days.  Lots of paper, ribbon, tape, and labels.

Not once have I written "To: Cora."

Sometimes I don't notice.  Like today, when buying gifts with money sent from Grandma Linda and Grandfather Pat.  Erin was running around like a crazy woman and Patrick woke up as Mr. Hyde for the second day in a row.  I was trying to find good gifts for them (yes, while they were there) and my husband, trying to avoid people in the aisles, and trying to keep them calm.  I was focussed.

And then I started wrapping.  "To: Dad," "To: Erin," "To: Patrick."

There are no presents under the tree for Cora.  When it comes to money, we tend to be more practical, so buying something for a child that isn't there just doesn't make sense.  But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.  What is the thing that she would be over-the-top excited for?  What would I get her to wear that would look okay with her complexion and curly red hair?  Would I have gotten her and Erin dresses to match?

It's not just the first Christmas that hurts, it's every Christmas.  Christmases that I'll never get.  I miss her so much.  I miss not getting to write her name on labels.  Something so simple, it seems, but so very, very huge at the same time.

A letter to the editor of OK! Magazine

To whom it may concern,

This afternoon (Dec. 15th, 2010) I was standing in the line with my groceries when I noticed the headline "Kendra Loses Her Baby!" complete with the subtitle "Tragic news!"  With tears springing to my eyes I opened the pages to find out how far along in her pregnancy she was, and if they knew why the baby died.  I was horrified to find out that she hadn't been pregnant and that her living son was alive and well, and all that had happened was that she sent him to live with is father.  I admit I was livid.

On May 1st, 2006, I was 38 weeks and 1 day pregnant with my first child, a daughter to be named Cora Rei.  I had an ultrasound that day and my doctor told me that her heart was no longer beating.  I was induced the next morning and I gave birth to her lifeless body which I later handed the director of a funeral home and I never saw her again.  I have 3 pictures.  I lost my baby.

I asked those standing around me in line (the store was very busy) and every one of them said that they'd assumed that she was pregnant again and had miscarried.  I do not believe that this is some misunderstanding because the phrase "to lose" someone is commonly used to signify the death of the person in question.  This is an egregious misrepresentation of the truth that is at best disgusting, and at worst an unfeeling mockery of the pain of hundreds of thousands of grieving women who actually have lost their child(ren).  It should be acknowledged and corrected.

You should be ashamed of yourselves.

With ire,

Brittanie Cannady

I feel like something is missing.

So, I look around at my Christmas...the tree...the gifts under it...everything, and it feels like something is missing. The obvious answer is that, well, something is missing; or rather someone.  It's still a frustrating, lonely feeling though.

I miss her at Christmas time more than I do just about any other time of year.  Christmas and her birthday, but the Christmas season lasts longer than the buildup to her birthday, so it's more drawn out.

I've talked to women who say that they know when they're done having kids because they "feel complete."  I envy that.  I will never feel that.  I ceased being complete on that nightmarish day when my doctor told me that her heart wasn't beating.  I'd give just about anything to have that.

Really disgusted.

I try not to get too overly political.  Or even overly religious (but, I'm a very religious person so that obviously leaks out here).  I try not to be too judgmental or hateful.  But this really sickens me.  Westboro Baptist Church has been protesting funerals for quite a while, and I think that's disgusting, but this particular one has hit me so hard because of their reasons.

Members of the Westboro Baptist Churchare planning to disrupt Edwards' funeral Saturday, saying the wife of formerSenator John Edwards is "going to hell" because she admitted to doubting her faith when her oldest son died in 1996.

Really?  Guess what....I doubted my faith when my daughter died too.  I felt betrayed by a Being who was supposed to not only be all-powerful, but infinitely just and merciful and loving too.  And how was Cora's death any of those things?  It took me a long time.  It was actually only months, but it felt like eternity.

Maybe it's just because this hits so close to home that it upsets me.  It upsets more than I would have expected it to.

I don't consider these people Christian.  They are probably one of the least Christlike groups of people I can think of.

Christmas in Heaven

This is such a sweet song.  Go here to Sarah Schieber's website to here the song. 

December hasn’t changed
This town looks the same
They still light that tree in the city square
There’s red, white, and green shining everywhere
And I wish you were here
And I wonder . . .

Is the snow falling down on the streets of gold?
Are the mansions all covered in white?
Are you singing with angels Silent Night?
I wonder . . . what Christmas in Heaven is like 

There’s a little manger scene
Down on Third and Main
I must have walked right by it a thousand times
But I see it now in a different light
Cause I know you are there
And I wonder . . .  

Are you kneeling with shepherds before Him now?
Can you reach out and touch His face?
Are you part of that glorious holy night?
I wonder . . . .what Christmas in Heaven is like 

Angels on the window

I just want to apologize for taking so long on the snowflakes.  I've had a bit going on, but I haven't forgotten.

((hugs)) to everyone

Autumn

Matthew

Eli and Jett

Marshall and Jonah

Logan, Brody and Wyatt

Ella

Elijah

Name snowflake tutorial

Fold down one corner to square off paper, lining up edges and making fold very crisp.

Cut off excess

Fold in half along long edge, making fold very crisp

Fold in thirds, making edges as even and possible and corner pointed

Cut off excess.  From here is where you make your cuts.  For a name snowflake I write the name on it and cut around the letters (using an xacto knife for centers of letters)

Grieving the innocence

I still post on the Trying to Conceive After Loss and Pregnancy After Loss forums I posted on while TTC and when pregnant with Erin and Patrick.  I feel that I fit in better there than I do with women who are doing either without ever having a loss.

But most of the women have had first trimester miscarriages and sometimes the differences between ttc/being pregnant after a miscarriage and after a stillbirth rear their ugly heads.  Today a lady posted about her new pregnancy.  She's nervous, as all of us are pregnant after a loss.  She posted today about hormone levels and for the first time hers are rising like they should.

So she said "It looks like we might actually get to take this one home."



The only times I've ever felt like that since Cora died was while I was in labor with Erin and Patrick.  And even then, with Patrick there were a few moments when I thought we might not be taking him home.

I hate that I have no safety in pregnancy.  There is no point in pregnancy when I am confident and unafraid.

I wish I had that back.  I've accepted that I won't get Cora back....but I wish that I could have that back.

Tangled

Matt and I went with Erin and Patrick to see the movie Tangled.  It's a family tradition that I've wanted to continue with my kids to go to the theater to see a movie on the day after Thanksgiving and the day after Christmas.  We couldn't go yesterday because we were traveling so we went today. 

I thought I knew what to expect.  I know the story of Rapunzel.  Only there were a couple moments that were really emotional for me that I wasn't really expecting.  You see, Rapunzel was kidnapped as a baby.  And every year on Rapunzel's birthday, the king and queen let off thousands of floating lanterns for their lost daughter.  In memory and in hope that one day they'd see her again.  There's a moment between the king and the queen, as they are getting ready to let go the first lantern.  The queen, looking heartbroken and tired, looks up at her husband, and he can't look at her.  He's got tears in his eyes and you can just see the pain in his face.  And I started crying.

I know that pain.  Of course, it's a little different since Cora died, and Rapunzel was kidnapped, so I don't really have the hope of her returning to me in this life. But in that moment, right then, it brought it all back.  The missing my daughter.  The grief that all you can do to parent your child is this small symbolic act. 

Erin wiped my tears and told me it was okay, and I did my best to regain my composure.  The movie went on to the climax, and I got back into it.

And then, at the end, Rapunzel returned to her parents.  This was actually a harder moment for me, and I cried harder.

Afterward, as we were leaving the theater, I guess I was really quiet because Matt asked me what I was thinking.  I think he knew.  He knows how I react to things like that.  Anyway, I shrugged and tears came to my eyes again, and the only thing I could answer was "They got their daughter back."

I believe in an afterlife.  I believe I will one day have a reunion just like that, with all the joy and the relief, when I just get to hold her close and never have to let go.  But it won't ever happen in this life.  While I am alive, I will not get that.

And I can not describe just how much that hurts.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is always fairly poignant for me.  Cora's name means "Heart full of gratitude."  So every time I think about being grateful I think about her.

I'm so grateful for her.  I'm so grateful for the person and mother she turned me into. While I've forgotten what it felt like to have her in my arms, or what she smelled like, I will never forget how I felt when I found out I was pregnant, or saw her on the ultrasounds screen.  Or even when I found out she had died.  I think the pain I felt in that moment - the worst emotional pain I've ever felt - is a testament to just how much I loved and love her.  I was afraid I wouldn't be capable of loving a child how a mother should love a child, but she proved to me that my capacity to love is far greater than I ever expected.


Happy Thanksgiving darling girl.  I miss you more than words can say.  But I am forever grateful that I got the chance to be your mom, and that I will again someday.  I love you and always will.

Christmas cards

I made Christmas cards this year.  I thought I'd give it a try.

Inside I'm putting a quote from the Polar Express, and our names.  I didn't include Cora.  Why?  The card is from those living at home.  When my kids get older and move away I will no longer put their names on the cards either.  Cora is not living at home.  It still kind makes me sad though. Not that she's not on the card.  But that she's not living at home.  Oh it hurts.

We're going to get a picture of our family to put in them, and I plan on having Erin hold Cora's panda bear that wears her name bracelet.  So she'll be in the pictures somehow.

But I did put Cora on my ornament this year.

It's our family, and Cora is still part of our family.  Even if she's not living at home.

Name snowflakes

One of my favorite winter traditions is the name snowflake.  When I was a child, my siblings and I were cutting paper snowflakes with my dad.  He announced that he was bored, and got out a pencil and xacto knife.  We didn't now what he was doing until he was done, but he had written his name on the folded, but uncut, snowflake and cut it out.  The pattern was beautiful, and soon we were all doing it (of course, he didn't let us all use the xacto knife, lol).

So, to all my angel mommy friends: If you would like me to cut a snowflake of your angel's name(s), please let me know in a comment. I can't promise to send them to you, but I will get you as good a picture as I can.  I'm also going to hang them up on my windows (if I don't send them to you).


Love and hugs to you all.

The closest I'll get.

I really wish I could have a picture of all my children together.  It breaks my heart to see family photos that are incomplete.  I hate having this invisible hole in my family.

This is the closest I'll get

It was taken on Cora's birthday last year.  The puppy was one we bought for her, and it had a code to name a star after her.  It was also wearing her name bracelet around its paw.

I really wish that it could have been her in that picture. *sigh*

Cora spoke to me today

I was driving around town today, grocery shopping.  I usually go to 3 or 4 different stores and it take several hours, and we spend a bit of time in the car.  And I usually have the radio on.  Well, a song came on, and unlike most Cora songs, it seemed that she was speaking to me rather than me to her.


Wherever You Will Go (The Calling)


So lately, I've been wonderin 
Who will be there to take my place. 
When I'm gone, you'll need love 
To light the shadows on your face. 
If a great wave should fall 
It would fall upon us all, 
And between the sand and stone, 
Could you make it on your own? 

[Chorus:] 
If I could, then I would 
I'll go wherever you will go 
Way up high or down low 
I'll go wherever you will go 

And maybe, I'll find out 
The way to make it back someday, 
To watch you, to guide you 
Through the darkest of your days. 
If a great wave should fall 
It would fall upon us all. 
Well I hope there's someone out there 
Who can bring me back to you. 

[Chorus] 

Runaway with my heart 
Runaway with my hope 
Runaway with my love 

I know now, just quite how 
My life and love might still go on. 
In your heart and your mind 
I'll stay with you for all of time. 

[Chorus] 

If I could turn back time 
I'll go wherever you will go 
If I could make you mine 
I'll go wherever you will go 

Bittersweet anniversary.

November 2, 2006 was Cora's half birthday.  She would have been a whole 6 months old.  Now, looking back on it 2 babies later, I can identify the things she should have been doing at the time.  On that day, however, I had no idea.  I really didn't know what a baby's developmental milestones at 6 months should be.  It was a hard day, because I knew I had missed out on so much.

But it was a sweet day too.  That day I had my first ultrasound with Erin.  I entered my OB's office in a near panic.  I had to struggle to maintain even breathing.  It was the first ultrasound I had since that last one with Cora.  That last one where the doctor said there was no heartbeat. And I was so terrified that they would tell me that there was no heartbeat again.

Walking into that office, I was so sure that all I would ever have is bad news.  I couldn't honestly believe I'd ever bring a baby home.

But we did see a heart beat and for the first time since Cora died I truly felt hope.  I was terrified until the moment Erin was born, of course, but that day I felt hope.

I am so grateful for the hope my rainbows brought back to my life, and for my Cora who taught me to appreciate it.

Is it just me...

...or are celebrities becoming more open about their pregnancy losses?

Mariah Carey recently confirmed that she is pregnant, also revealing she had a miscarriage 2 years ago.

Celine Dion had a miscarriage before conceiving her new twins.  Kelsey Grammar's girlfriend had a miscarriage.

It can't possibly be that there are more celebrities having miscarriages can it?

While I'm saddened for these ladies, I'm glad they're talking about it.  It makes it so much less taboo when people in the limelight are willing to talk about it.

One singular moment

I think if someone asked me to name the one singular most-defining moment in my life, most would expect me to say Cora's death.  They'd be wrong though.  Yes...definitely...that was a moment that was very profound and did change who I am and how I see the world.

But there was one moment that did more.


This video is my first ultrasound with Cora.  I had known I was pregnant for several weeks already, and was sicker than sick, but it wasn't real until I saw her on that screen.  And in that moment, I went from just being Brittanie, to being a Mom.  To being Cora's mom.  That was a much bigger change for me than going from Cora's mom to Cora's grieving mom.  Suddenly, someone's needs mattered more than what I wanted, or even than what I needed sometimes.  Suddenly I was needed.  And I realized just how much I needed her.

And that change stayed with me even after Cora died.  That identity remains with me, even though she didn't physically.

I am Cora's mom.

Rabbit Hole

Just to warn you, this trailer is totally a tear jerker.


Just about every line from that trailer has at least been thought in my house, if not said out loud.

I have to admit though, while I totally identify with the grief, I found myself so envious of the father who was able to watch videos of his son.  I truly do envy parents that were able to see their children alive before they died.  Now, truly, I understand how traumatizing some of my baby loss mom's experiences were.  I understand how hard it would be to see your child get sick and waste away first.  I am grateful that I never had to see her sick.

But I really do envy parents who got to see their children breath, hear them cry, look into their eyes.



So I'm going to watch this movie, but I may wait until it comes out on DVD so I don't feel bad about sobbing through the whole thing.

Someone noticed my car sticker

So, I was putting gas in my car today, when a lady walked over. I was wearing my Walk to Remember tshirt, which she recognized. She gingerly said hello, told me she had a shirt just like mine, and then asked me where I got my window sticker.

I wanted to cry and hug her, just knowing that she needed one too.

But I just told her where I got it, and we stood there for a moment with tears in our eyes, and then the gas pump shut down because my car was full and it was all over. She walked back to her car and I finished up getting my receipt and such.

*sigh* Poor lady. I wish I knew her name.

A little sad

I have a dear friend who is also a baby loss mom.  Her little boy, Brian Emerson, died in January of 2008 at 21 weeks gestation (I think).  She doesn't talk about him often, but she and I are able to talk about him because we both understand.  I understand that not everyone can be as open as I am.  I've always been a fairly outspoken person.

Anyway, she's pregnant with a little boy again, and they're having a really hard time naming him.  She asked for suggestions today on a facebook status, and another friend of hers whom I don't know suggested the name Brian.

It was a kick in the gut for me.  I can only imagine how it would feel for her.  I'd be really upset if I asked for names and someone suggested Cora.

I'm hoping her friend just doesn't know.  But if she does and suggested it...that's just heartless.

Because I am her mother

My life is very different, because I am Cora's mother.

I know I have an immense capacity to love, because I am her mother.

I know what it means to truly sacrifice, body and soul, on behalf of another person because I am her mother.

I know what it means to have your dreams fall apart, because I am her mother.

I know how strong I can be, because I am her mother.

I understand my own mother, and my grandmothers much better, because I am her mother.

I no longer cry tears of sympathy, but tears of empathy, because I am her mother.

I have more patience with her siblings, because I am her mother.

I am friends with many amazing, beautiful, heartbroken women, because I am her mother.

I am a better person, because I am her mother.

The Wave of Light

October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  One of the parts I love to participate in is the "wave of light."  Candles are lit for the entire 7pm hour in every time zone.

  If I have forgotten someone, I apologize, I ran out of room!

I wish...

I wish that I had a picture of my positive test with Cora. Or at least remembered the date.

I wish I'd been able to enjoy my pregnancy with her, instead of having my most powerful memory being one of being convinced I was actually going to die from being so sick.

I wish I'd known about NILMDTS, or at least thought of having the nurse take a picture of the 3 of us together.

I wish I'd been able to have my family in the room to hold her.

I wish we'd been able to have a funeral.

I wish we'd been able to bury her, so that she could have a headstone to tell the world that she was here beyond what I'm able to do.

I wish I'd been able to see her eyes, and hear her cry, see her smile, hear her laugh.


I wish she were here.

Sweet coversation

Erin pointed up to Cora's shelf

"Mommy, pitoh of Daddy howwding Cowwa!"
"Yes, Daddy's holding Cora in that picture.  What else is up there?"
"Iss pitoh of Cowwa.  An' Cowwa's hand.  An' Cowwa's anjow.  An' Cowwa's beoh's."


She's never specifically said they're Cora's before.  Other times she's just said "the baby."  It made my heart happy.  I'm glad she'll at least get to know her sister a little since she can't have a real relationship with her.

Different but not worse

First off, I recently started going to the chiropractor (my first eval was 3 weeks ago, then last week started 3x a week visits...I'm pretty messed up). Anyway, I found this office because they had a tent outside Walmart one evening offering the first evaluation and adjustment for free.  Turns out that I love this office.  Dr. Judd is such a sweet and compassionate, good natured man.

Anyway, as with my dentist, I sort of felt that it was important for him to understand that I've had 3 full-term pregnancies because that has definitely had an impact on the condition of my body.  But since they have a playroom in their office and I bring my children in with me, it's obvious that I only have 2 children.  So I had to explain what happened with Cora.

We talked a little bit about his experience with his wife miscarrying at around 8 weeks or so, and then he said to me "But it must have been different for you."

I can't explain how much I appreciate him using the word "different."  So many people who have experienced earlier miscarriages tell me that my experience "must be worse."  I don't know, maybe it makes them feel better. If so, fine.  But it doesn't make me feel better.  If mine is "worse" then that means someone whose child died at a year hurts "worse" than me.  And I truly don't think that those people are any more devastated than I was.  Than I am.

Yes, it's different.  I felt her move.  I was past the "danger" zone.  We knew her gender and had her name picked out.  We had her nursery ready.  I went through 8 hours of labor and delivery, and held her lifeless body in my arms.  Then I gave her body to a man in a black suit, who took what was left of Cora on this earth away and shut the door behind him.

It's different.

But a person whose baby dies earlier didn't lose less of a their future because of that.  Just like a person whose child dies at a year old doesn't lose more of their future than I did.

There weren't fewer dreams that just got shattered.  Just more specific ones.

The Walk to Remember

Every year the Walk To Remember is held the Saturday before Oct. 15 (Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day). This is the second year we've gone, and this experience was much better than last year's since the weather was so much better.

This year Cora's name was on both the program and the tshirt.  I loved it.  It was so sad to see all those babies names though.

Erin was really excited to "giff bwoons to Cowwa."  It makes my heart happy to hear Erin talk about her sister.  She doesn't understand really at all yet, but Cora will not be forgotten, and that eases the pain a little.