Loving Cora Rei

Sherlock...another good quote (could contain spoilers)

2012-01-25T16:01:00.000-08:00

So, Matt and I watched the 3rd episode of the 2nd series of the show Sherlock the other day. The episode starts with Watson saying his best friend was dead, and ends with him standing in front of Sherlock's gravestone in tears.

He said "I want you to do one thing for me. Don't be dead. Just stop it. Stop it right now."

I can't tell you how often I've said those exact words. "Just don't be dead."

*sigh*

I miss her.

2012-01-17T22:10:00.000-08:00

There's not really much else to say. It's not the knifing grief I get some days. It's more wistful now. I just miss her.

Thank you National Geographic

2011-12-21T16:12:00.000-08:00

I was watching a documentary on King Tut the other day. ("King Tut's Final Secrets" if you're interested. I found it on Netflix) It was mostly about the CT scan on his mummy trying to figure out once and for all definitively why he died, but they also mentioned the contents of his tomb. They talked for several minutes about the two mummified babies. For some reason Howard Carter thought the smaller one was stillborn and the larger died shortly after birth but you can't really tell that from the mummies. Both were smaller than a full term baby. Anyway, in talking about this, they described the babies' deaths as "terrible tragedy" and it was so nice (especially in light of comments and controversy around the stillbirth of little Jubilee Duggar) to have it recognized as a tragedy when a baby dies.

They also ended the documentary with a quote, that sums up the reason why I write this blog, the reason why I do things in my daughter's name:

‎"To speak the name of the dead is to make him live again. It restores the breath of life to he who is vanished." ~Egyptian Book of the Dead

Turns out she's LITERALLY always with me.

2011-12-10T12:44:00.000-08:00

New studies show that, amazingly, cells from the fetus stay in the mother's blood system for decades after that baby's birth.

The best part? It's not just full term births, but any pregnancy.

"And, says Carol Artlett, who studies fetal cells at Thomas Jefferson University in Philadelphia, even if a woman has a miscarriage or an abortion, even if there is no baby, the cells of an unborn child will stay in the mother for decades."

There's some debate about whether this ultimately proves harmful or beneficial for the mother, but the idea that there is a part of Cora literally always with me...is amazing. I love that her siblings are too, but it's most amazing when thinking about Cora because I don't have her in my arms from day to day. She's in my very cells. I just love it.

1st or 20th, it doesn't matter.

2011-12-09T08:26:00.000-08:00

I'm heartbroken for Michelle Duggar and the death of her 20th child. I'm not going to call it a miscarriage, because she was far enough along that she will have to go through labor and delivery. Her baby will be stillborn. It makes me so sad.

But what makes me so sick over it is the horrifying comments she's getting. Like, "it's what she gets for getting pregnant again." I have to admit, the idea of that many kids seems a little crazy to me, and I really did worry about her health and the health of her baby after the complications of her last pregnancy. But nobody deserves this. It's not for the best when a baby dies.

My loss was my first, and futher along than hers. But that doesn't mean that Cora's death was any more tragic or that I have a right to my pain any more.

I wish people would stop being so hateful. No mother deserves this.

Family portrait when one is missing

2011-12-03T18:25:00.000-08:00

How do you take a picture of your family when your family isn't complete? I've seen families include a portrait of their lost one, but I don't really feel comfortable doing that. We went for a subtler approach. In 2009, for Cora's birthday, we bought a Shining Stars stuffed beagle with a code to name a star. So we named a star near Orion's belt for our Cora Rei (okay, I know it's not really legitimate but that's okay). Anyway, we then took a family portrait on Cora's birthday and included the puppy to signify her.

Well, we got a great coupon for The Picture People, and since it'd been so long since we'd had a professional portrait done (we hadn't had one since!), we got one done today. And the puppy joined us again.

I don't know how long I'll include him. As long as I can. It'll probably be weird once I stop having young children, but I don't care. It makes me feel like she at least got to be in our family portrait somehow.

Imaginary Conversations

2011-11-08T18:54:00.000-08:00

The holiday season is hard. It starts with Halloween. I found myself having imaginary conversations with Cora. It started with talking to Erin about what she wanted to dress as (Rapunzel) and wondering what Cora would want to be. She had red hair, would she have wanted to be Ariel? Or would Ariel have been old news?

"But Mom, I want to be Rapunzel!"
"But Rapunzel has blonde hair, and so does Erin."
"So I always have to be Ariel because I have red hair?"

It has continued on with conversations with Erin about what she is grateful for, and what we should take to Grandma and Grandpa's house, and then what she wants for Christmas.

I hate that these conversations have to be imaginary. It hurts that I didn't get to have family traditions and experiences with her.

Grief all ties together.

2011-10-29T21:25:00.000-07:00

My dad had to put our old dog down this evening. He was a lab/pointer mix, and he was 12 years old. He's been pretty sick the last 3 days, rather suddenly, so he and my brother decided it was time.

It's interesting how that grief has affected me. I'm not the type that views animals as children, but they ARE members of the family, and they DO have a way of grabbing your heart. And it hurts when they have to go.

Missing Mesh (his name was Gilgamesh) has sort of had a domino affect and made me miss my other dog, Princess, who died in 2003 (she thought I was her puppy. She and I had a really close bond), and now I'm really missing Cora. I'm learning as I go through this that there are many different circumstances for grief, and many different expressions for grief, but in the end it's the same. It always hurts.

So rest in peace, Gilgamesh Ruff Hill. You will be very missed.

Pregnancy and infant loss remembrance day

2011-10-16T13:52:00.000-07:00

The big one was for Cora, one of the angel ones was for my family and close friends and the other was for my wonderful, enormous online support community. It made me sad that there were so many that I hit the limit for the number of tags Facebook allows on a picture.

Walk To Remember

2011-10-08T12:06:00.000-07:00

The 2nd Saturday in October every year is the Walk To Remember. The organization puts together bereavement packages for hospitals to give families there for miscarriage, stillbirth or dealing with infant loss. This year we were lovingly sponsored by our dear friend Aubri.

So the walk is started with a memorial service and balloon release, and then a walk around the lake there at the park.

Today was 34 degrees and freezing rain, so we didn't stay that long. And sadly, since the temperature dropped from the time the balloons were inflated to when we were supposed to release them, they didn't float (they're actually now on my ceiling, we'll let them go later).

But we went, and it was good, even if we were only there for a little bit.

2 sisters

2011-10-01T18:41:00.000-07:00

Erin's been really interested in family relationships lately. With Allison's birth and having grandparents and other family in town, it's been fun trying to help her understand how we're all related. Her favorites are her brother and sister though. lol

So yesterday in the car, she announced that she had 2 sisters.

I said "Yes, you do have 2 sisters. Who are your sisters Erin?"

"Baby Allison!" she squealed. She loves her baby sister.

"Yep," I answered, "Who else?"

She paused for a second. "Not Patrick," she said, thinking, "He's my brother."

"It's true. So who is your other sister?"

"Um..." she frowned for a second, and then her eyes went wide. "Baby Cora!"

I love that she is aware of her big sister. I wish they could have grown up together, but the best I can do for Cora is have her siblings know who she is, right?

Her outfit (new baby mentioned)

2011-09-27T16:17:00.000-07:00

Allison is a month old today and I decided to take some pictures. I was trying to figure out what outfit to put her in, when it occurred to me that she hadn't worn Cora's would-be coming home outfit yet. It seemed perfect.

So here is Allison in Angel Sister's outfit.

Her shelf, finally

2011-09-17T11:34:00.000-07:00

It finally is up. It is currently the ONLY decorative thing we have hanging on any of our walls.

The wing broke off my white angel. :( It'll be fairly easy to glue it, I just need to find the right kind of glue.

A moment in the car

2011-09-03T16:29:00.000-07:00

I tell people that when Erin was born, I felt like I had to start over in my grief process, because I didn't really have any idea what I was losing when Cora died. I hadn't ever had a child, so my life didn't really change with her death. I didn't have any experience with my own child so I didn't have any idea what it was really like. I lost an idea.

But then Erin came along and every noise she made, every movement and every look made that loss so very real.

It hasn't been that bad since. A new baby makes me miss that experience with Cora, but it's not so crushing.

However, I do have moments. And I had one of those in the car today. I went out to run an errand, just me and Allison. A time to get a moment to myself. Allison was asleep in the back, so I didn't have to really worry about her. And then this song came on the radio ("If you get there before I do" by Collin Raye). It was one I'd heard before, but not for years, but I remembered it enough to start crying halfway into the first line. By the time the chorus started, it was all out sobs:

If you get there before I do
Don't give up on me
I'll meet you when my chores are through
I don't know how long I'll be
But I'm not gonna let you down
Darling wait and see
And between now and then til I see you again
I'll be loving you, love, me

I hope she's listening.

Cora's visits

2011-09-01T09:29:00.000-07:00

When Erin was born, I was nursing her one day and she unlatched, looked over my shoulder, and grinned the biggest grin you've ever seen. She was only a few days, maybe a week, old, so smiling isn't something she was really readily doing yet.

But I knew that was a real smile, and I had the distinct impression that the smile was for Cora, who had dropped in for a visit. It happened a couple times more too. Patrick did it too, but not nearly as often.

Allison has been doing it a lot. It really warms my heart. I want my kids to have a connection to their big sister. Last night at about 3am I was burping Allison, and she looked up and smiled the most amazing smile. I treasure those little moments.

Safe and sound (newborn mentioned)

2011-08-28T14:05:00.000-07:00

Allison Reine arrived yesterday evening, August 27th, at 5:39 pm. She weighed 7lbs4oz and is 21 inches long.

There were a couple scary moments right at the end of delivery (including her being born with the cord around her neck twice!), but she is here safe and sound, healthy and beautiful.

She doesn't have red hair, but she does look just like her sister (as have all Cora's rainbow siblings!)

Finally found a good answer...(pregnancy mentioned)

2011-08-25T08:32:00.000-07:00

I was grocery shopping yesterday, and Erin announced to the cashier "Awwison will be born on Saturday!" So then I had to explain to the cashier that yes, I was being induced on Saturday which naturally lead to the question of "oh, are you overdue?" I hate having to explain. I hate not acknowledging Cora though. But then it came to me.

"No, I have a history of loss, so they don't let me go to my due date."

To which she responded, "oh, well it's good that they're keeping an eye on you then!"

I didn't have to explain the anxiety I get. I didn't want to explain the dreams (like the one last night where I dreamed I had to explain to Erin why Allison wasn't coming home. My first one like that this pregnancy. Thankfully, Allison's being very active today!). But apparently the answer I gave is a socially acceptable amount of information. I hate more than anything how talking about a baby's death suddenly make conversation so awkward, but we were able to just continue on like I hadn't said anything horrible. Now I know what to say for the next 2 days!

Made it through (pregnancy mentioned)

2011-08-22T13:29:00.000-07:00

Well, I made it through my loss milestone. Allison is active enough to keep me sane, even though she's playing games with me. She'll be really quiet just long enough to get me anxious, and then beat me up. But it's okay. I can make it 5 more days...

And luckily I've escaped all the nightmares I had with Erin and Patrick so far. That's such a relief!

38 Weeks

2011-08-19T08:16:00.000-07:00

38 weeks was the last day in my pregnancy with Cora that she was alive. I woke up that morning (Sunday, April 30th) to get ready for church and when I stood up I realized that I could breathe. Sure enough, looking in the mirror, she had dropped. I was excited, since it was something that was supposed to be a precursor to labor. I would be having a baby soon! I had random erratic contractions throughout the day, but nothing in a pattern or really very intense. I contemplated calling into work that evening (I worked at a gas station convenience store), but decided that standing during my shifts might help things along.

I just felt "off" all day, and didn't know what to make of it. I was having a lot of discharge, and when a friend came in (she was an off shift coworker) to visit and get a movie and candy, I mentioned to her that I wondered if my fluid was leaking. She offered to finish my shift so I could go to the hospital, and I said "No, it's probably nothing, I'll wait and see what happens in the morning."

I've never regretted any words more ever in my life. She stretched during that conversation, so hard it hurt. That's the last time I distinctly remember her movement. I think she might have moved a little after that, but that was the last time I specifically remember it.

The next morning when I woke up there was nothing at all.

I'm 38 weeks today. Allison is very active, which is comforting. But I have to admit, I'm scared to go to sleep tonight. I'm scared for what tomorrow morning will bring.

And I miss my baby girl so much it hurts.

Remembered

2011-08-15T16:47:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it surprises me how much of an impact Cora has on people that, quite frankly, I've never met. I'm not going to call them strangers, because in reality these ladies are my friends. Some of whom are very dear to my heart, near sisters.

I received this in the mail today and was instantly brought to tears.

Another first I'll never get.

2011-08-12T07:12:00.001-07:00

Cora should be starting Kindergarten on the 22nd. I should be buying new clothes and crayons and pencils and paper and a backpack and wondering where on earth the time went.

*cry*

Home to My Heart

2011-08-07T15:40:00.000-07:00

((From All Dogs Go To Heaven))

All I have is a picture in my mind how it would be
If we were together
Let's pretend that you're far away
Let's say you write to me
And you promise in your letter
That you'll come home
Come home to my heart
When you come home
We'll never be apart
If I keep dreaming of you
Start believing it's true
Soon you'll come home
Soon you'll come home
Soon you'll come home
To my heart

Soon you'll come home
Home to my heart
Soon you'll come home
Home to my heart
If I believe...

Scrapbooks

2011-08-06T14:48:00.000-07:00

It's been a crazy couple of months, complete with moving and then flooding basement and then restoration of the basement. I'm finally getting things put back together (the carpet got finished yesterday so everything is all done). So I'm redoing my scrapbooking room, and I can't help but pause and look through the scrapbooks.

I came across the page I made while pregnant with Cora. It was more painful than I expected it to be. I haven't looked at that page since I made it, I don't think. It was hard to go back and read of the happiness and the hopes and dreams that I knew would ultimately be dashed...but I didn't know then. It was hard to look that woman in the face and reflect on who I was and how I have changed. Most of the changes have been good ones, but it has been a very very painful process.

My heart aches to be the woman that that woman thought she would be.

edited to add:
I just picked up an 8x8 album that I had been making an alphabet book with. I flipped through the pages to figure out what I'd done and what needed to be done, wondering why I had stopped working on it.

And then I saw this

I feel like I should finish it...but how can I?

2 weeks (pregnancy mentioned)

2011-08-04T16:23:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I'll be 36 weeks pregnant. That gives me 2 weeks to the fateful day in my pregnancy with Cora. I fell asleep the night of 38 weeks, and woke up to no response. I have 3 weeks until my induction (23 days actually).

I keep trying to keep my mind off it, but part of me feels like a ticking bomb. Like all I have left with Allison is 2 weeks. I made it past 38 weeks with Patrick, all the way to 39 weeks and 3 days. I keep telling myself that. Patrick made it here, safe and sound. He's healthy and happy. Allison can make it to 39 weeks.

But I close my eyes and I see that fateful ultrasound showing Cora's still heart. And I can feel Cora's still body in my arms. And I dread it.

Then and now (pregnancy mentioned)

2011-07-22T15:54:00.000-07:00

My very last picture taken when pregnant with Cora was at 34 weeks. I've shared it before, but I love it because I look so very very happy in it.

I'm 34 weeks today with Allison. The anxiety is starting to creep in a little.

My "Cora ring"

2011-07-20T08:25:00.000-07:00

At about 33 weeks pregnant with Cora, my right foot suddenly started swelling. Like, ballooned up out of nowhere. It was that same way until a few days after delivery. Anyway, my other foot and hands swelled ever so slightly too. Enough that I couldn't wear my wedding ring. I had a slightly bigger right-hand ring that I had been wearing in place of it, but one day even that one wouldn't fit. I tried to put it on on my way to work and couldn't, and being an emotional, hormonal, sick pregnant woman I started to cry. My poor husband didn't know what to do. He finally got me calmed down and drove me to work.

It was a Saturday, and he happened to have the day off. About half an hour into my shift he comes waltzing into my work place with a grin on his face. He'd gone straight to Walmart, and bought me a $15 sterling silver band, 2 sizes bigger than my regular size. Now, we had no money, so $15 was kind of a big deal. And of course it made me cry again. I wore that ring to the end of my pregnancy, and was a little sad when it didn't fit anymore.

I didn't have any swelling issues with Erin and Patrick. But here I am 33 weeks pregnant again, and my foot again is going crazy, and my wedding ring and right-hand ring don't fit. So I just pulled out my "Cora ring." I have many fond memories with this ring. Sad ones too, but the good ones now outweigh the bad. It's kind of bittersweet.

It's all much more emotional than I thought (nursery again)

2011-07-07T13:05:00.000-07:00

So yesterday as I was sitting painting my nursery, I had a sort of mini breakdown. I just had to stop and cry. Cry for my first nursery and all the memories that didn't get made in it.

Today I'm realizing I'm having a hard time not having everything absolutely perfect. I'm sure that's more of Cora's nursery arising. I didn't have the ability to get her nursery exactly the way I wanted, because I was in an apartment and we had no money at all. And of course, my irrational brain is connecting that nursery imperfection with her death.

I need to make myself relax and just let some things slide. But really I just want to cry.

The nursery (pregnancy mentioned)

2011-07-04T16:40:00.000-07:00

I'm really excited to start painting the room that will be my nursery. And yet I keep avoiding it.

The only baby I had an extra room for for a nursery was Cora. We were in an apartment so I couldn't paint, but I did decently well. It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but it worked.

And I didn't get a picture of it before Cora died. So the only picture I have is months later when we stored everything we needed to move in there and just shut the door.

So I'm feeling a little bit skittish about starting another nursery. Especially a real one with paint and everything. So I keep putting it off.

Cora's shelf again.

2011-06-26T19:35:00.000-07:00

It still isn't up. It's a little hard, but okay at the same time. It's a great emotional improvement on my part, I think, that I'm getting everything else unpacked first. Once I get my bedroom completely unpacked, all I have left is my craft room and the pictures that go on the walls. So Cora's shelf will go up as soon as my room is unpacked.

Still don't know where, but I'll find a good spot.

Proud of myself (pregnancy mentioned)

2011-06-10T19:07:00.000-07:00

Okay, a little back story. After Cora died my husband and I took stock of the things we should keep and things we should return. We knew we'd have more kids, so we decided the furniture and clothing we'd keep, but the bath stuff, and the diapers and wipes we'd return. Needless to say, returning several packages of diapers and having to explain why was rather traumatizing.

When Erin was born, I didn't buy any diapers at all until we got home from the hospital. I just couldn't buy another package of diapers until I knew I needed them without a doubt.

With Patrick, I plucked up my courage and bought a package the day before I was induced. And freaked out. It was such a hard thing for me to do.

Well, today I was at Target, and I bought a package of newborn diapers. At 28 weeks. I did freak out and had to have a friend remind me it wouldn't jinx things. But now that I've gotten through that, I'm proud of myself. I can't believe how well I'm doing emotionally this go around.

New neighbor noticed Cora's sticker on my car

2011-06-08T21:42:00.000-07:00

This evening we were over our new house cleaning things up, figuring out which light switch plates needed to be replaced, etc.

As I was walking out, the new next door neighbor was out and came over to say hi as I was getting the kids in the car.

She asked about the sticker, and I got to talk about my Cora. It was nice to have it out in the open. I mean, it's a part of my life, so I want people to know, but I don't want to spring it on people. I was glad I had that sticker on my car. I was glad I got to talk about Cora. And Suzy was so sweet. She's got 2 adult kids, so could understand that it would be a devastating thing.

She told me she was proud of me for having 2 kids and being pregnant again. Made me feel good.

One step further away.

2011-06-04T04:59:00.000-07:00

Matt and I closed a house purchase on Wednesday and officially took possession yesterday afternoon. We are thrilled with this chapter in our lives, and being able to get out of an apartment and into a place all our own.

But sitting on the floor of our family room yesterday, as excited as I was, it was bittersweet.

This house is the 4th place Matt and I will live in. Cora was conceived, lived in my womb, and died, all in our first apartment. I am moving further and further away from her and it just breaks my heart. I wish so much I could be painting a room for her. Instead, I'm packing up her mementos and shelf, trying to decide where it will hang in our new home.

Maybe I'll put it in the nursery, so she can watch over her baby sister.

Plans for next Memorial Day

2011-05-31T12:56:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I reflected a lot on the Memorial Days of my past. When I was younger, my mother had a garden full of bearded irises, and every Memorial Day we'd cut a bunch and take them to the cemetery. We put some on my great-grandmother's grave, and a couple other ancestors buried in that cemetery, and then we'd go around and put them on random graves...especially if we found the grave of someone who had been in the military.

I liked putting them on children's graves. Even then I felt a sense of profound loss for those families and wanted those babies to be remembered.

Tomorrow we're closing on a house, and this fall I plan on planting iris bulbs everywhere. They're one of the few flowers I'm not allergic to, and I just think they're breathtaking.

Next Memorial Day I want to cut a bunch and take my kids to the cemetery. We have no relatives buried here in Colorado, but I plan on putting them on the graves of military servicemen and some children. Maybe the children's ones will have a small note from me.

The worst thing

2011-05-24T11:57:00.000-07:00

I have a really hard time talking to other people sometimes. I'm sure I've posted similar posts several times, but seems to come back to me a lot. Especially in discussions of worst fears and worst-case scenarios. I'm getting better at not saying anything, not increasing anxiety, but I still feel it.

My worst fear is not that I will be a bad mother, or that I won't love Allison as much as I do my others.

My worst-case scenario is not a csection (although, I have to admit, that one is 2nd).

My worst fear and worst-case scenario are the same: That this baby will die, leaving me with empty arms and a broken heart again.

I wish I could go back to that innocent ignorance where the baby dying wasn't something that ever entered into my mind.

Never thought I'd be here. (pregnancy mentioned)

2011-05-13T21:40:00.000-07:00

I've reached an amazing emotional place in my pregnancy recently. I can picture myself holding this little girl at the end of my pregnancy without and instant anxiety attack. Ever since Cora died, I thought I'd be incredibly anxious all through the rest of my pregnancies.

With Erin and Patrick it was true. Especially with Patrick since I went a week and a half past my loss point. That 10 days was pure Hell.

And I wasn't ever able to think about delivery/birth with either of them. Not in more than an abstract idea that I knew would eventually have to happen somehow. I was too scared, because of all the unfulfilled daydreams I had about Cora. I just couldn't let myself, or my mind went automatically to the "what if this one dies too" realm.

The day before yesterday I was laying on my couch with my hands on my belly as she kicked me, daydreaming about what it will be like to hold her, and what she will look like, and it was peaceful. It surprised me. But it's allowed me to enjoy this pregnancy in a way I've not been able to before. With Cora I was just too physically ill to enjoy it, and I spent all my time anticipating when the pregnancy would be over. This time, the medications are working so much better and while I'm still not feeling great, I'm not feeling as terrible as I did with Cora, so I can just enjoy having Allison here, right now.

It's such a great feeling. And I never thought I'd ever feel this way ever.

Mother's Day

2011-05-07T22:28:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day is really bittersweet for me. Cora's due date, May 14th, was Mother's Day that year, so whenever anyone asked when I was due, I always answered "On Mother's Day!" I was so thrilled. Of course that day ended up being really hard because it was just a reminder of what should have been when my loss was so fresh.

But the truth is, Cora made me a mother. Regardless of the fact that she didn't stay for me to actually mother. I am a mother, first and foremost because of her. Even if I didn't have my other children, I would be a mother because of her.

So I celebrate her on Mother's Day. I wasn't a mother before she came along, and I was after.

Butterfly release

2011-05-03T14:21:00.000-07:00

There was one butterfly that didn't emerge until this morning, and it was exceptionally cooperative for pictures. I felt like it was Cora's gift. I knew there was a reason it snowed yesterday. She wanted me to give that last one a chance.

My very very favorite picture

So, it snowed...

2011-05-02T21:41:00.000-07:00

...so our birthday plans for Cora got modified. It didn't stick at all, and actually warmed up a bit but not warm enough for the butterflies, so I decided to hold off on that part until tomorrow.

We had our picnic at home

And cupcakes, which aren't weather dependent! Erin insisted that Cora needed a candle on her cupcake. When I said "But she's not here to blow it out!" Erin said, "Iss okay Mom. I bwow it for her." It has been amazing today having Erin talk so much about her sister and really being able to share Cora with her.

And what kid doesn't love a good cupcake?

5 years

2011-05-02T10:07:00.001-07:00

Happy birthday to my Cora! I can't believe it's been 5 years. It feels like just yesterday, and yet an eternity at the same time.

And a cute little video of Erin talking about "Cowwa's birfday."

We have butterflies!!

2011-04-30T17:12:00.000-07:00

Two of our butterflies "hatched" this afternoon. The other 3 won't be too far behind. It looks like we'll have butterflies to release on Cora's birthday! I'm so excited!!

Words I'll always regret

2011-04-30T09:39:00.001-07:00

Saturday, April 29th, 2006 was a surprise baby shower for me and Cora thrown by 3 of my friends. It was just the four of us, but we had a great time. At one point someone asked me if I was feeling ready. I had been so incredibly sick my entire pregnancy, and wasn't not feeling particularly well that day either, so my response was "I almost don't care about getting the baby, I just don't want to be sick anymore!" I immediately regretted saying it.

Sunday, April 30th, 2006 I was 38 weeks. I woke up that morning to get ready for church and she had obviously dropped. I had more room between my breasts and my belly than I'd had in months, and I could breathe. I wasn't having anything notable in regards to contractions though. Everyone at church noticed I'd dropped and people were excited. Cora was the last at the end of a baby boom, so everyone was waiting for me to deliver. I decided to go to work that evening, as standing/walking might help to get things going (I worked at a gas station/convenience store so there wasn't really a place/time to sit). As the shift went by I was starting to get anxious but I couldn't figure out why. She was active during her active time, though maybe a little slower/less strong. I'd heard that was normal though. My discharge was crazy though. A coworker/friend came in on her off shift to visit and get some candy and asked how I was doing, and I told her that I thought I might be leaking fluid (I wasn't) but I wasn't sure. She offered to finish my shift so I could go to the hospital. During that conversation Cora stretched. It hurt. It was the last time I remember feeling her move.

Anyway, when Bree offered to take my shift, I responded "No, I'm probably freaking out over nothing. I'll wait and see what happens in the morning."

Then next morning she was already gone.

Ages and mental pictures

2011-04-28T11:19:00.000-07:00

A topic recently came up on my stillbirth support forum asking how we picture our babies. It was interesting, the varied responses, and it made me think about it.

To me, age is a physical characteristic. Cora does not dwell in the physical realm, and therefore does not have an age. When I picture her at this moment I generally see her as a young woman. When I picture my life as it would be I picture her at the age she would be.

It's kind of interesting how I came up with the young woman image. The one and only dream I had about her she was a young woman. She was beautiful. I cherish that.

Can't help but relive it: The first of the "lasts"

2011-04-26T08:30:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, April 26th, 2006 was my last OB appointment. I'd had quite a bit of bad braxton hicks contractions and cervical pain, so even though I was only 37 1/2 weeks I asked him to check me. I was 2cm dilated and 70% effaced, and he could feel her head (but she pulled away).

I was living in Idaho, and my parents would be in Utah that weekend for my brother's graduation that weekend, so I asked about them maybe inducing me so my parents could come up. He answered that he couldn't without medical reason, especially since I wasn't even 38 weeks yet, and just a few days could make a difference.

I was a little disappointed, but I understood. As I was leaving he said "Well, see you next Wednesday. That is, if I don't see you before then!"

She died Sunday night.

I understand why my doctor answered what he did, I do. I don't truly blame them for what happened. But a few days did make a difference, and I often wonder what my life would be like if he'd answered me differently. I'm quite sure it would have ended up in an emergency csection, and there's a possibility she still wouldn't have survived. But I still wonder.

Might, maybe, may

2011-04-23T08:24:00.000-07:00

So, our caterpillars are forming chrysalids! They started yesterday. The information says that it takes 7-10 days in the chrysalis before they come out as butterflies, and Cora's birthday was 11 days from yesterday, 10 days from today.

So we might actually have butterflies for Cora's birthday! I'm not expecting it, but I'm allowing myself a little bit of hope.

The stages of grief (reposting an old post)

2011-04-21T07:33:00.001-07:00

(((I originally posted this almost exactly a year ago today, in anticipation of Cora's birthday. Not surprisingly, I'm feeling the same way again)))

I majored in psychology for 2 years before I had to stop (I won't get into why I had to, but I just want to say it wasn't because I wanted stop, or that I didn't want to finish). Anyone who has studied psychology even passingly has probably come across the Kubler-Ross model of the 5 stages of grief. Now, many people try to use this as an example for people dealing with grief of the death of a loved one, but it doesn't really fit. Ms. Kubler-Ross was actually identifying the stages of grief for someone who has received the diagnosis of a terminal illness. For the death of a loved one, I actually like this one.

Either way, though, it's a bit misleading. They outline a process where you progress forward from one stage to another. When you move to the next one, you're "done" with the previous one, and at the end....you're "done" grieving. In my experience that's not it at all. Each one of those stages is very valid, but I think I'm going to call them "phases" instead. Grief has several different emotional "colors," and each phase is dominated by one of those emotions.

But moving from one to the other doesn't mean that you're "done" with the one or that they go in order or in any way that makes sense.

To me it's like the universe is playing pinball, and I'm the ball.

Something triggers it, and my grief explodes in an unpredictable pattern, going through one or another phase and not stopping at others at all. Sometimes I can see it coming, and I brace myself, and I am lobbed gently through the pins, only touching one or two for a brief moment before gently coming to rest again. Other times it comes out of nowhere, and I violently ricochet from one to another and back again, bouncing around, dizzy, and it takes a while to recover.

When I first lost Cora, after I'd recovered from the shock enough to think for a bit, I thought of the model of the stages of grief. I was grateful for my knowledge, because I felt a little more "prepared" for my journey.

The universe has had the last laugh though.

Remembered again

2011-04-17T17:27:00.001-07:00

I just got a message from a friend with this picture in it that she took over the weekend.

Caterpillars!

2011-04-16T08:07:00.000-07:00

So our caterpillars finally arrived yesterday. I've accepted the fact that they probably won't be ready for Cora's birthday. I've decided we'll have a picnic dinner at the park and have cupcakes, and fly our kite on Cora's birthday, and then we'll release the butterflies for her whenever they're ready. That way she gets two days.

Relief (pregnancy mentioned)

2011-04-13T19:26:00.000-07:00

I had my ultrasound today. I always get anxious beforehand. After the awful ultrasound with Cora, though, I don't really blame myself.

My main concern, though, was cord placement. Cora's was obviously around the neck, and they didn't tell me, and I really had no clue what I was looking at.

So I was anxious that this one's would be too. It would feel like a death sentence, I think.

Thankfully, baby girl's cord wasn't around her neck. It was in front of her belly, between her and her placenta, right where it should be, thank goodness. She's also apparently "perfect."

Worried and upset.

2011-04-11T15:56:00.000-07:00

One week ago I ordered some live caterpillars to raise and watch turn into butterflies with the hope that we'd have live butterflies to release on Cora's birthday. It takes about 3 weeks to go from caterpillar to chrysalis to butterfly. Cora's birthday is 3 weeks from today and our caterpillars haven't arrived yet. I'm going to be so sick to my stomach if they don't arrive in time for us to have butterflies for Cora's birthday! I seriously want to cry. This was the only plan I had, and I can't bear the thought of not doing something.

*sniffle*

Not since Cora (pregnancy mentioned)

2011-04-07T07:03:00.000-07:00

I felt Skittles for the first time from the outside today. Matt was there, getting ready for work, and I was telling him about it. He didn't make any effort to try to feel him/her.

He hasn't really done those sorts of things since Cora died. I don't know, maybe it's his way of dealing with the anxiety of me being pregnant again? I miss it though...him being involved.

There were a few times I was able to get him feel Erin and Patrick while while I was pregnant with them, but it wasn't until much later into the pregnancy.

The one thing that he has not ever done since is put his ear to my belly to try to hear the heartbeat. He did that all the time with Cora. He did that after my shower when I started feeling like there was a problem...and there was no heartbeat to be heard. So I don't really blame him for that one. I don't think I'd ever do it again either.

I wish we could go back to the blissful happiness we both felt when I was pregnant with Cora.

Glad she's not forgotten (pregnancy mentioned)

2011-04-04T13:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday on my facebook page I posted a link to an online baby pool to predict Skittles' gender on my ultrasound next week. (here, in case you're interested)

Anyway, a friend of mine posted "It has to be a boy since we are twins and all. lol 2 girls then 2 boys. :)"

It made me feel so good to have her remember that I DO have two girls, even though the older one isn't here with us. Totally made my day.

5 years ago today...

2011-04-02T11:57:00.000-07:00

...was my last picture pregnant with Cora. I really wish I had taken more.

Tangled Redux

2011-03-31T09:06:00.000-07:00

When we went and saw Tangled in the theater, I loved it. Even with the hard parts I made a post about. But I loved it enough to buy it on Tuesday when it came out.

I sort of accidentally on purpose didn't watch the parts I mentioned in my previous post (I didn't necessarily make an effort not to, but it wasn't really completely accidental either). But another part got me.

The witch stabbed Flynn/Eugene, and with his dying breath he cut Rapunzel's hair so that she would be free (and consequently couldn't heal him). In grief, she sings her song:

Flower, gleam and glow. Let your power shine. Make the clock reverse: bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt. Change the Fates' design. Save what has been lost: bring back what once was mine, what once was mine.

Listening to the grief in her words just made that longing well up in me. How amazing would it be to get that? Even just for a moment. I wish more than anything I could just have a moment with my Cora, to look into her eyes, see her smile, hear her laugh.

It's been stuck in my head for the past two days.

There is life

2011-03-29T13:14:00.000-07:00

I was watching Bambi II with my rainbows the other day. I'd never really paid attention to it before, but I was laying on the couch with nothing else taking my attention.

So there's a song, between when Bambi's mom dies and the spring reappears, and it really struck me. It's called "There Is Life"

Under the snow,
beneath the frozen streams,
there is life.
You have to know
when natures sleeps,
she dreams there is life
And colder the winter,
the warmer the spring,
the deeper the sorrow,
the more our hearts sing
Even when you can't see it
Inside everything
There is life

After the rain,
the sun will reappear
there is life
After the pain,
the joy will still be here
There is life
For it's out of the darkness
that we learn to see
And out of the silence that sound come to be
And all that we dream of awaits patiently
There is life

There is life

The door.

2011-03-24T11:52:00.000-07:00

This was just posted on the facebook page called Chicken Soup for the Angel Mommy and Daddy's Soul, and it struck a chord with me.

That door. Somedays, it is the barrier between us and moving forward through grief. It keeps us from the world outside, from obtaining happiness inside, from moving in forward in time. It's as if our very step outside that door is a symbol of us leaving our angels behind. On the other side of that door is the unknown - what will people ask, what will we see, will we tumble and need to find shelter?We stare at that door, we tilt our heads, we shrug our shoulders, and give up. I have stood with the door open, standing on the frame- the tips of my toes teetering - hoping someone would push me through the magical barrier that keeps me from enjoying life...just outside that door.

After Matt and I got home from that fateful ultrasound, we discussed a lot of things. I'd had a history of severe depression and anxiety and we were both worried of how the death of our daughter would affect me. One of the hardest things for me when I was in the midst of those emotional issues was to go outside. I was *safe* inside. So together we made the decision that I should get out of the apartment every day for at least 15 minutes, even if it was just to go sit on the grass outside and read in the sunlight.

It's amazing how hard it can be though. And I've *never* lost the feeling of people watching me.

Another year

2011-03-17T16:20:00.001-07:00

Another year missing my little redhead on St. Patrick's day.

*sigh*

Unexpected reminders.

2011-03-08T12:28:00.000-08:00

I'm going through all my baby clothes today. I have 5 totes full of baby clothes and I went through the drawers today and pulled out all that was too small and decided I needed to go through it all and not keep what I don't love.

And I came across this

Cora's would-be coming home outfit. It kind of hit me like a bucket of cold water. I knew it was in there, but I guess I just wasn't thinking about it. I have pictures of Erin in it. I will have pictures of any future girls in it. But it breaks my heart that I didn't have pictures of Cora in it.

Not thinking about it (pregnancy mentioned)

2011-03-04T07:44:00.000-08:00

I'm in that frustrating stage in pregnancy where I'm feeling little baby pokes here and there, but not at all consistently and not even every day. At this point, I emotionally turn off I think. I don't think about being pregnant and I don't think too much about Cora, either. I just can't. I'm in "survival" mode.

So, if I'm abnormally quiet, that's why.

Cora's legacy, perhaps.

2011-03-01T15:32:00.000-08:00

This last week I was voted "Most Supportive Member" on my forum at Justmommies.com. I am beyond touched and amazed, especially considering how many members there are and the other amazing women who were nominated with me.

Cora is the reason for this. Cora is the reason I try to reach out and support so many other hurting mommies. I got so much support when she died, I feel like I have to give back somehow.

I didn't ever expect this though.

New take on the pregnancy nightmare

2011-02-20T19:14:00.000-08:00

Whenever I'm pregnant (or even trying to become pregnant) I start dreaming about the baby dying. Whether it's miscarrying, or something happening in the 2nd trimester, right on up to another full term stillbirth. I guess this is normal, my day-to-day suppressed anxiety manifesting itself.

Last night though, was different. My sister-in-law is pregnant. Now, this isn't the first time that I've been pregnant with a family member, so I don't know what makes this particular instance so different, but I dreamed that my little niece (who is due in June) was stillborn. Not stillborn in the future, like...in the dream I woke up to the phone ringing and it was today and something had happened overnight to make sister-in-law go to the hospital and Sara didn't make it.

In a way it was a relief not to have the dream be about my own loss. It was much easier to talk myself out of when I woke up that way. But at the same time, I'm so scared of it happening to someone else in my family. There's already been so much loss, from my grandparents on down. I'm the only one, when counting my siblings/spouses, in my generation that has had any sort of loss, and I'd like to keep it that way.

The Real Cora Song

2011-02-16T15:51:00.000-08:00

I've love the a capella group Insideout for a very long time. Their album Primary Colors included the song "Lullaby" written for the son of one of the singers. When I became pregnant with Cora, I memorized it. I would spend hours listening to it.

Sun's last ray, light of day

Lazy sunset slips away
Close your eyes, go to sleep
Dream of Heaven, dream of peace
Starry skies, moon's soft light
Heaven keep you through the night
Morning light brings the day
Sun's first ray

I sang this song to Cora in the evenings when she'd wake up and kick me. I sang it to her the day we spread her ashes. And I sang it to both Erin and Patrick, both before their births and after. I haven't started singing it to Skittles yet, but I will, probably when I start feeling regular movement.

I love this song, but it is inexplicably tied to Cora. Every time I've sung it to my rainbows, I've done it in honor of Cora and all the times I didn't get to sing it to her.

It's different seeing it...

2011-02-15T07:48:00.000-08:00

Matt and I went to go see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: pt 1 yesterday. It was strange for me to wait this long, as I've seen all the others opening week. Even for Half Blood Prince. We found a babysitter for Erin and Patrick was young enough to go with us. But this go around it was a little more difficult to find someone who would take both kids. So it was really nice to get out.

I really enjoyed the movie. I've read the book and I knew what to expect. And I cried in all the same places, even though I was expecting it. While reading the book, Dobby the House Elf's death took me by surprise, and I cried and cried.

Watching the movie, I started crying in anticipation. But it was much harder to watch than I thought. Not his death, actually, but as Harry was digging the grave. Ron and Hermione carried Dobby's body, wrapped in a white shroud, up the hill, and it looked like they were carrying a child. I'm not sure I would have thought that if I hadn't been through what I have, but I had to look away. I just couldn't do it. I cried for a totally different reason.

My husband

2011-02-10T16:28:00.000-08:00

Many times over the course of the past nearly-five-years in baby loss communities, I've heard several times women ashamed to admit that they'd rather have lost their husband than their child. It has always made me wonder about the differences between their marital relationship, and mine.

I truly believe that the reason I survived Cora's death is because I had Matt. I had him to lean on and support, to comfort and be comforted by, someone to experience my grief with. I was not and am not alone. If Matt died....who would I turn to? I'd be utterly alone. As much as I fear having another child die, I know that with him I could survive it. I don't think I'd do so well if he died.

Being alone is my greatest fear. It was my fear before I met Matt and got married (I was terrified I never would and I'd be alone forever), and since becoming engaged have had occasional nightmares of him dying. It's actually my most common nightmare.

So while I need my children....I can't survive without my husband.

Sympathy and Empathy

2011-02-09T16:28:00.000-08:00

Before Cora died, I felt bad for couples who lost children. My parent's first baby was stillborn at 21 weeks, my mother's mother's first baby died during labor and was stillborn. My father's parents had a little girl die a couple months before she turned 3. When I was 16 a little boy that I babysat died. I truly felt bad for all these families. I did.

But I didn't understand it. It wasn't something I truly felt (well, it came close with Kade because I love him so much from babysitting him his entire life).

Now, when I hear about someone's child dying, I feel it. I truly feel it. It takes me back to that emotional place, feeling like the world is falling apart around you and being completely helpless and alone. Now, I empathize.

Sometimes I wish I could go back. Sometimes I wish I could go back to thinking "I can't imagine what that would be like." But I can imagine, because I've been there. So now, I cry at even passing stories, like this one and this one. Before I would have felt bad, and thought "oh that's so sad." But this morning, reading the first one and watching the second, I cried the tears of a grieving parent. Tears that you can only cry if you've been there.

The impact of words.

2011-02-06T09:59:00.000-08:00

It's hard watching celebrities lose babies. Hard, not only because it takes me sad, but because of the media response to it. I'd never heard of Lily Allen or Amanda Holden before they had their recent stillbirths. It made me so angry, though, that both Lily's and Amanda's losses were termed "miscarriages." Now, I'm not saying that stillbirths are "worse" than miscarriages, but it is so very different. And in the mainstream media, when people consider miscarriages nothing more than a late and bad period (a rant which deserves it's own post), it doesn't really help people realize the devastation of going through labor and delivery and holding your baby's lifeless body, and then having to give that body to someone else to never see again.

Further disturbing to me is this quote from Amanda's article

She went to West Middlesex Hospital in Isleworth, west London, after the baby stopped moving. It was later stillborn.

Is it so very hard to say he was later stillborn?? Is it so hard to give that baby boy the respect of personhood that he is due? They didn't just lose a pregnancy, they lost their baby boy.

It's hard to read those things, because if they would say that about a celebrity's baby, what would they say about mine? Would they rob Cora of her personhood, too, relegating her to an "it"?

I feel so bad for these ladies, and have said prayers for them. I hope that they get the support and privacy they need.

Confessions of a Grieving Parent

2011-02-03T17:22:00.000-08:00

There is a facebook group call "Chicken Soup for the Angel Mommy and Daddy's Soul" that I love. Lately they've been doing "Confessions of a Grieving Parent" and I find them amazing. They're like the "post secrets" that have been really popular, where people anonymously email in their secrets and they're posted in a postcard-type form. These are things that we think as angel parents, but that we don't say to others because they wouldn't be considered "socially appropriate."

One was posted today, the parent was afraid that there was no afterlife and they'd never really see their angel again. They said something along the lines that they're afraid to die because they're afraid to discover it isn't true.

It made me think....what if it's not true? I came to the conclusion that if there's no afterlife, then I won't know it. My last conscious living thought will be my last, so how would I ever know it wasn't true?

Therefore, I chose to hold on to that belief for the hope it gives me. If it's not true, and I never see her again, then I want to die hoping that I will. I want my last thought to be one of hoping to hold my baby girl again. And since I DO believe it is true, then I will have all that joy of actually getting to see her again. But if not...it won't matter. I will have had that hope to get me through this life.

the kindest thing

2011-02-01T11:49:00.000-08:00

The February writing challenge for Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope is to "Write about something special a friend, family member, or other loved one did for you after your baby(ies) died that really touched your heart."

We confirmed Cora's death on a Monday, and I was induced the next day, Tuesday. Wednesday, my brother, sister-in-law and niece, and sister came up from Utah (4 hr drive) to spend the day/night with us. Honestly, my memories of the days immediately after the fact are very hazy, but I seem to remember that he either called in sick for his Wednesday shift, or went through extraordinary efforts to switch his shift so he didn't have to work that day. He had Thursday off too, and wanted to spend that day driving home. They were so wonderful, reminding me that I could go on like nothing had happened because I had physically just delivered a baby so I needed to take things easy. They vacuumed, did dishes, made meals, and just hugged me and cried with me. They told me Cora was beautiful (some of the few people to see the pictures of Cora before Matt could touch them up a little), seeing what I saw in her. They helped me realize that I was not alone in my grief. They still let me talk about her when I need to.

I also got an anonymous note on my door. It was exactly a month after Cora's stillbirth, and I was having a hard day. I walked down to the apartment mailboxes to get my mail, and inside was an enfamil coupon packet with a booklet titled "Cuddling your one month old." I burst into tears standing at my mailbox, and made my way back to my apartment through misty eyes. When I got back, there was a note taped to my door. It's in Cora's scrapbook. The note simply said that they knew that it was a hard day for me and wanted me to know that they remembered and that I was loved. To this day I wish I knew who it was, so I could tell her how much it meant to me.

Pictures

2011-01-30T20:22:00.000-08:00

I have a hard time looking at baby pictures sometimes. Pictures of sleeping (live) newborns just bother me. I couldn't put my finger on it for a while, but after hearing someone tell me that Cora "just looks like she's sleeping" it hit me: I hate pictures where, to me, the babies look dead. So I especially hate black and white newborn photos.

It bothers me most when it's pictures of my own children. Maybe it's because the thought of Erin and Patrick dying too is so traumatic to me. Maybe it's because they're supposed to be happy pictures of my children and I hate that the pictures make me cringe.

The ones that come most to mind to me are Erin's blessing pictures. I'd been planning on having my mom make a dress for Cora from the leftover fabric of my wedding dress and my veil, but we were waiting to see how big she was at birth before my mom started. And then of course it became a moot point. So my mom made it for Erin.

And I hate the pictures.

Part of me wishes I'd thought to try to wake her up.

Pregnancy reflections

2011-01-25T17:56:00.000-08:00

I've said before that most of my memories of my pregnancy with Cora are not all that pleasant. First and foremost comes to mind the day before my husband took me to the ER where I was formally diagnosed with hyperemesis. I spent the majority of the afternoon laying on the bathroom floor, since I was sick often enough that I didn't feel like continuing back and forth between the couch and the bathroom. I literally, seriously, believed I would die.

But there are happy memories too. Like the "big" ultrasound, during which she was sitting with her rump in my pelvis and the cord between her legs and she would not move. We could see her entire spine down to her tailbone, and each complete thigh bone, but we could not see her gender. It was frustrating, but we were so thrilled to have our baby pronounced "absolutely perfect."

Then there was the next appointment when my doctor snuck me into the room with older machine just to take a "quick peek" to see if we could see her gender. It took all of 30 seconds to see. I remember the giddy grin on Matt's face as he talked about having a daughter.

I remember endless rounds of push-you-kick-me, and looking forward to showers because she always became active then.

I don't have many memories like that of my pregnancy with Erin. I think I was pretty much a zombie during the entire thing. Besides the actual positive test, I don't actually remember the ultrasounds (and there were more, because of the loss) or the NSTs that I know we did. Between positive test and labor it's one big blur. I kind of regret that. But at the same time, since I get Erin and so many happy memories since her birth, I guess it's better that I more vividly remember my short time with Cora of the two pregnancies.

Am I "stuck?"

2011-01-21T09:59:00.000-08:00

The past couple of weeks I've had a couple people approach me out of love and concern. They are worried that I'm "stuck" in my grief, and that maybe I should look into professional counseling. I've been thinking about it, and I'm frustrated.

Yes, I talk about Cora. Frequently. It's the only way she's a part of my life. If I don't talk about her, she's gone.

Is it my sole focus? No. My main focus is my living children, who need me. ((actually, my main focus lately has been not throwing up, but that's another story)). I play with them, I teach them, I change them, I feed them, I love on them. But yes, Cora comes up when I talk to these trusted people. I don't have to always talk about Erin and Patrick, because...well...they're there, wanting to talk to them and show them their toys.

Now, I have been a little depressed lately, but I really don't think that has anything to do with Cora. That has everything to do with not being able to play out side, and throwing up everything I eat.

So I'm frustrated. I hate feeling like I'm not safe talking about Cora with people anymore.

It affects everything. (pregnancy mentioned, sort of)

2011-01-18T11:15:00.000-08:00

Sometimes it becomes really obvious just how much Cora's death has affected my life. But on days like today, it's REALLY obvious. I belong to a Due Date Club on Justmommies.com forums. And I stick out. My perspective is totally different.

~When discussing birthing preferences, I need to be in the bed hooked up to the heartbeat monitors. Why? Because without it I start flashing back to the delivery without it. When there was no heartbeat to hear. I need the comfort of the sound, to reassure myself that things are different. I'm also going to be induced early because of that same anxiety. Labor and Delivery are an incredibly stressful time for me.

~When discussing baby showers...well, I'm not expecting to have one, as I've already got a girl and a boy. But Erin's and Patrick's were both after they were born. I have an incredibly hard time with sitting there and everyone saying "when the baby comes" while my mind is screaming if. Cora's was 2 days before she died.

~When discussing nurseries...well...Cora's was the only one I have ever had. With both Erin and Patrick we've lived in places where there wasn't a separate space for a nursery. We will be moving in June into a bigger place. We're not sure of details yet, but it'll be at least 3 bedrooms so the baby can have a separate room. Which means a nursery. But I can't even get my mind to start thinking about decorating a nursery.

~When discussing finding out the gender...I have to. I have to. It's an emotional imperative. I got to get to know Cora before she died. I can't imagine not knowing who she was until after she died. The same thing goes for names. I hear people saying "we'll decide on a name when we see the baby and see what fits." I got to call Cora by name. It made her a person, and I have memories specific to her and not to "a baby." I've tried to get names decided on as soon as possible after finding out the gender for that very reason.

~Some of the girls are discussing the 12 week mark, and "being safe" and it drives me crazy. Cora died 12 days before her due date. 12 days. I just want to scream sometimes. There IS no safe point. But I also don't want to say that all the time because I don't want to be a downer. I envy their innocence and I don't want to destroy it any more than my presence and Cora's picture in my signature already do.

I wish I could go back to those days sometimes, when things were "safe" and I could just expect everything to go right.

As if I needed something more to worry over (pg ment)

2011-01-17T20:40:00.000-08:00

I had my first OB appointment today. When I went in last week for the ultrasound to make sure everything was okay after the bleeding, they also checked my progesterone. I don't think I've ever had my progesterone checked before. I got a call back saying my levels were a little low and I started prometrium.

Well, today going over the paperwork, she told me that they weren't just a little low, but they were quite low. She wanted them around 20. Mine was 9.7.

I had another ultrasound and everything looked good. Great heartbeat, no other issues. But I can't get that number out of my head. I wish she hadn't told me. It's one of those cases when too much information can be a bad thing. In my mind I almost feel like it's a losing battle and it's just a matter of time.

This sucks. There's no other word for it.

All sorts of anxiety. (pregnancy mentioned)

2011-01-11T11:07:00.000-08:00

The times I had ultrasounds with Cora I was just excited beforehand. There was no real worry. There was vague worry about things I'd heard from others about missed miscarriages and things like that. But not to the point where I was terrified. I was mostly just hugely excited. Until that last ultrasound anyway. I hoped I was freaking out over nothing but deep down I knew she had died so I did not want to walk into that ultrasound room and have a doctor tell me what he told me. What I knew he was going to tell me.

Now, I have that same feeling of dread before ultrasounds, even when I have no reason to think there's a problem. But today it was worse. I had some bleeding this weekend and of course it just made me scared. They got me in for an ultrasound this morning, and the dread was nearly what it was like with Cora. I expected to hear those words again. "I'm sorry, but there's no heartbeat."

There is a heartbeat, though. Little Skittles is measuring just 1 day behind my dates, which is the closest any of my babies have been. I teared up with relief, and the tech was so nice. I keep staring at my picture, so thrilled that there's really a baby in there. A living baby. There's no clear reason for the bleeding either, everything looks okay. I am so very very happy.

But I hate that one bad ultrasound has ruined that excitement I used to have. I wish I could have that back.

The Truth

2011-01-06T19:45:00.000-08:00

The truth ISN'T that you will feel "all better" in a couple of days, or weeks, or even months.

The truth IS that the days will be filled with an unending ache and the nights will feel one million sad years long for a while. Healing is attained only after the slow necessary progression through the stages of grief and mourning.

The truth isn't that a new pregnancy will help you forget.

The truth is that, while thoughts of a new pregnancy soon may provide hope, a lost infant deserves to be mourned just as you would have with anyone you loved. Grieving takes a lot of energy and can be both emotionally and physically draining. This could have an impact upon your health during another pregnancy. While the decision to try again is a very individualized one, being pregnant while still actively grieving is very difficult.

The truth isn't that pills or alcohol will dull the pain.

The truth is that they will merely postpone the reality you must eventually face in order to begin healing. However, if Your doctor feels that medication is necessary to help maintain your health, use it intelligently and according to his/her instructions.

The truth isn't that once this is over your life will be the same.

The truth is that your upside-down world will slowly settle down, hopefully leaving you a more sensitive, compassionate person, better prepared to handle the hard times that everyone must deal with sooner or later. When you consider that you have just experienced one of the worst things that can happen to a family, as you heal you will become aware of how strong you are.

The truth isn't that grieving is morbid, or a sign of weakness or mental instability.

The truth is that grieving is work that must be done. Now is the appropriate time. Allow yourself the time. Feel it, flow with it. Try not to fight it too often. It will get easier if you expect that it is variable, that some days are better than others. Be patient with yourself. There are no short cuts to healing. The active grieving will be over when all the work is done.

The truth isn't that grief is all-consuming.

The truth is that in the midst of the most agonizing time of your life, there will be laughter. Don't feel guilty. Laugh if you want to. Just as you must allow yourself the time to grieve, you must also allow yourself the time to laugh.Viewing laughter as part of the healing process, just as overwhelming sadness is now, will make the pain more bearable.

The truth isn't that one person can bear this alone.

The truth is that while only you can make the choices necessary to return to the mainstream of life a healed person, others in your life are also grieving and are feeling very helpless. As unfair as it may seem, the burden of remaining in contact with family and friends often falls on you. They are afraid to "butt in," or they may be fearful of saying or doing the wrong thing. This makes them feel even more helpless. They need to be told honestly what they can do to help. They don't need to be told, "I'm doing fine" when you're really NOT doing fine. By allowing others to share in your pain and assist you with your needs, you will be comforted and they will feel less helpless.

The truth isn't that God must be punishing you for something.

The truth is that sometimes these things just happen. They have happened to many people before you, and they will happen to many people after you. This was not an act of any God; it was an act of Nature. It isn't fair to blame God, or yourself, or anyone else. Try to understand that it is human nature to look for a place to put the blame, especially when there are so few answers to the question, "Why?" Sometimes there are answers. Most times there are not. Believing that you are being punished will only get in the way of your healing.

The truth isn't that you will be unable to make any choices or decisions during this time.

The truth is that while major decisions, such as moving or changing jobs, are better off being postponed for now, life goes on. It will be difficult, but decisions dealing with the death of your baby (seeing and naming the baby, arranging and/or attending a religious ritual, taking care of the nursery items you have acquired) are all choices you can make for yourself. Well-meaning people will try to shelter you from the pain of this. However, many of us who have suffered similar losses agree that these first decisions are very important. They help to make the loss real. Our brains filter out much of the pain early on as a way to protect us. Very soon after that, we find ourselves reliving the events over and over, trying to remember everything. This is another way that we acknowledge the loss. Until the loss is real, grieving cannot begin. Being involved at this early time will be a painful experience, but it will help you deal with your grief better as you progress by providing comforting memories of having performed loving, caring acts for your baby.

The truth isn't that you will be delighted to hear that a friend or other loved one has just given birth to a healthy baby.

The truth is that you may find it very difficult to be around mothers with young babies. You may be hurt, or angry, or jealous. You may wonder why you couldn't have had that joy. You may be resentful, or refuse to see friends with new babies. You may even secretly wish that the same thing would happen to someone else. You want someone to understand how it feels. You may also feel very ashamed that you could wish such things on people you love or care about, or think that you must be a dreadful person. You aren't. You're human, and even the most loving people can react this way when they are actively grieving. If the situations were reversed, your friends would be feeling and thinking the same things you are. Forgive yourself. It's OK. These feelings will eventually go away.

The truth isn't that all marriages survive this difficult time.

The truth is that sometimes you might blame one another, resent one another, or dislike being with one another. If you find this happening, get help. There are self-help groups available or grief counselors who can help. Don't ignore it or tuck it away assuming it will get better. It won't. Actively grieving people cannot help one another. It is unrealistic, like having two people who were blinded at the same time teach each other Braille. Talking it out with others may help. It might even save your marriage.

The truth isn't that eventually you will accept the loss of your baby and forget all about this awful time.

The truth is that acceptance is a word reserved for the understanding you come to when you've successfully grieved the loss of a parent, or a grandparent, or a beloved older relative. When you lose a child, your whole future has been affected, not your past. No one can really accept that. But there is resolution in the form of healing and learning how to cope. You will survive. Many of us who have gone through this type of grief are afraid we might forget about our babies once we begin to heal. This won't happen. You will always remember your precious baby because successful grieving carves a place in your heart where he or she will live forever.

~Author Unkown~

Messages

2011-01-04T08:46:00.000-08:00

There's a song that comes on my Pandora by Christopher Cross called "When You Think of Laura." The chorus says: When you think of Laura, laugh, don't cry. I know she'd want it that way.

Last night it came on, and I wasn't really paying attention, and I heard "When you think of Cora."

I was having a hard day yesterday, and I needed my little girl, and she made herself known. I love that she sends me little messages.

A dear friend of mine says she's sure that our separation is hard for Cora too, and that she misses me as much as I miss her. I feel that too, and that's why she sends me these little messages and comes for visits. She knows how hard pregnancy is on me and I always feel her around more often. She's been so close lately.

I think her siblings can feel her, too. The other day, Erin started randomly talking about the things on Cora's shelf. Her picture, the picture of Daddy holding her, her handprint, and Patrick looked up and clearly said her name. The first time he's ever said it. But it comforts me to know that they know she's here too.

Hopefully

2010-12-31T23:16:00.000-08:00

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)

2010-12-30T20:05:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-12-28T14:28:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-26T21:12:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-24T19:42:00.000-08:00

((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.

2010-12-21T17:25:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-20T19:56:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-12-18T15:44:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-16T16:27:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-15T14:56:00.003-08:00

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.

2010-12-14T14:20:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-12-10T12:41:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-09T17:47:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-06T14:51:00.001-08:00

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

2010-12-06T14:48:00.003-08:00

Matthew

2010-12-06T14:48:00.001-08:00

Eli and Jett

2010-12-06T14:47:00.001-08:00

Marshall and Jonah

2010-12-06T14:46:00.000-08:00

Logan, Brody and Wyatt

2010-12-06T14:45:00.000-08:00

Ella

2010-12-06T14:42:00.002-08:00

Elijah

2010-12-06T14:42:00.000-08:00

Name snowflake tutorial

2010-12-06T14:34:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-29T20:44:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-27T16:56:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-25T06:27:00.000-08:00

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.