The other Cora

There's another angel Cora that is special to me. Her name is Cora McCormick.

Cora died at 5 days old due to an undetected congenital heart defect.  Sadly, a very simple test could have detected it and saved Cora's life.  It's called a pulse oximetry test (the little white plastic thing put on the tip of the finger...SO simple).  Cora's amazing mother has been campaigning trying to get bills in several states to make pulse ox tests for newborns standard and mandatory.  And she's doing an amazing job.

Go read Cora's story.  Then contact your representatives and tell them you support a pulse ox bill to be written or passed in your state.

Remember

‎"If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died -- you're not reminding them. They didn't forget they died. What you're reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and that is a great gift."--Elizabeth Edwards

As time goes by...

...I have learned a lot about this grief journey.  It's a long one.  I keep trying to remind Baby Loss friends, and myself by extension, that you're never really "done."  Unlike most journeys, there's no real destination.  There's no point, at least not while I'm alive, when the grief will go away.  It'll always be there.  Do I live my life? Yes.  Do I find joy? Yes.  Will I ever stop hurting for Cora? No.  Not ever.  Not until I get her back into my arms.

I'm so glad I have other children to experience this life with, but having them won't ever bring her back.  They do not fill that Cora-shaped hole in our family and in my heart.  Those dreams I dreamed while pregnant with her were not for any child, they were for her, that specific child.  I could have 100 children, and do all those things with them that I planned do do with her, but I will never get to do them with her, and that hurts so very much.

I've gotten good at ignoring the pain most of the time.  I go about life, focused on the three sweet babies that need my utmost attention here, enjoying almost every moment (because I'll be brutally honest, I don't enjoy cleaning vomit up off my floor [Patrick was sick a couple days ago]...there are just some motherhood moments are just not enjoyable).  But that doesn't mean that the pain, the grief, the missing-Cora has gone away.  It's an old injury now, one that I have learned to live with.  But I do have those stormy nights where it steals my attention and it hurts like the day she died.  The intensity of the pain has not lessened with time, merely the focus I give it throughout my day.

But apparently it's one of those moments where the weather is changing, and the old wound throbs.  I miss her.  And I miss even the hard mommy moments that I never got with her.  Because, as much as I don't enjoy them, I'm glad I have them, because it means I get the great ones too.