Living with the loss of stillbirth and learning to live in the sunshine of our new normal.

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Walk To Remember

I'm here again.  Alone this time.  I thought I'd just show up and grab my shirts and then leave again. But on the way here I thought,  why?  Mike and the kids are having fun at gramma' s. I have nothing to get to.  I have nowhere to be.  So I'm sitting in the grass waiting for the program to begin. Waiting to hear my daughter's name called.  Waiting to release a balloon to her in heaven.  There are way too many people here. Way too many babies lost forever. October is Pregnancy And Infant Loss Awareness month.  How many people even know that?  Beyond the 500 or so people here.  And the people at the walks in cities around America this month.  How many people have any idea?  You can't blink without seeing pink effing ribbons.  Pink merchandise as far as the eye can see.  It's almost a holiday,  for those companies that make money hand over fist for "breast cancer research".  Everyone knows that October is pink.  But in my world,  October is pink and blue.  October is lighting candles and releasing balloons and every day,  trying to remind the world about my baby.  About all of the babies.  I won't do a breast cancer awareness manicure this month.  I won't post a breast cancer gif on my social media.  Everyone knows about that.  I want people to know about our babies. I want them to remember that October is for Charlotte.  Cory. Kate. Samuel and Ezekiel.  Melissa. Brayden. Christian.  Madeline. Rowan. All of the babies that didn't come home.  The babies that were carried.  Loved.  Lost. 
Today I am at the Share Parents of Utah Walk of Remembrance and Hope.  Today I am spending time with my daughter's memory. In my daughter's memory.  Her name was Charlotte and she was perfect.

Tuesday, August 26, 2014


So much has been going on lately. Not all of it good. Both of our cars broke down, one of them twice. As in, lots (and lots) of money. They're both running again, thanks to our great family and friends who stepped in to help us out.
 Miles had his follow up ultrasound to check his kidney. It came back a week later and the news was not good. His hydronephrosis has gotten worse, his right kidney is now a stage 3. We are going to PCMC tomorrow to see a pediatric urologist to see what the next step is. From what I've read on Dr. Google, it's probably going to mean surgery. He's only 8 1/2 months old. I can't even fathom having to check him into the hospital for a surgery. We'll see what happens tomorrow.
Sophia started first grade. The first week, I was a mess. I watched the clock for 7 hours, waiting to pick her up. I can't believe that my little baby girl is in full time school. For the next 12 years. It makes me want to cry. She likes it okay. She has a lot of friends in her class, and I think her teacher is going to be great for her.
I need to start updating this blog more often. I think about it every day, but always seem to freeze up when it comes to opening it. Too much going on in my head and I feel like if I open it up, there will be trouble.

Monday, July 7, 2014

These Dang Kids

These kids are amazing.  Some days it stops me in my tracks.  How did I manage to become so blessed?  How did I live before they came along?  Mike is really the best thing that ever happened to me,  because together we made these unbelievable children. My life is really wonderful,  and I am thankful.

Friday, May 2, 2014


We finally got some sunshine today. We walked Sophia home from school.  Apparently,  our bodies can't handle so much fresh air.  We all fell asleep. The kids are still sleeping,  And it shows me just how loud the neighborhood is.  The windows are open and I think we're finally brushing winter off for good. (Which is a big deal! )

Thursday, May 1, 2014


There are times that I wish that Miles was able to nap without me holding him.  My house would be a little cleaner. I would be able to do some me stuff.  But then I would miss his smile when he wakes up and sees me.  I would miss his happy gurgles and his little hands reaching for my face. My house will stay messy.  My bows will go unmade. My baby will get mom's snuggles and kisses and whispered promises for as long as he needs them.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014


A whole nother year without you. Those are hard words to write. A whole year of sunrises and sunsets. Every time the sun sets, another day has gone by without my little girl.
 Some mornings, I wake u p and I'm confused and surprised that you're not here. This life that we have now, you belong in it. And you're not here.Sometimes I feel you, but more often, I think I just create an extra space for you in my head, just in case. Every sunrise for seven years, I have looked for you. In every pink and purple cloud, in every burst of the sun.I want to shake the skies until they release you. I search for your face, even still- it's almost like you're lost and I am still looking for you, hoping you'll come home. I feel like you're growing up somewhere. Going to school, having sleepovers with friends. I can picture so clearly the life you should have had here with us. But you're not here, and I'm not there. Some other world is raising my daughter.
 I've spent a lot of time the last three years being angry. I pushed it back for so long because I know it wont change anything. But I've let it wash over me sometimes, and I am sorry for that. It makes me wonder if you would even recognize me now. I am so different than I was then. I see the world in different colors. Sounds are not the same. Everything is louder now. Would you know who I am? Would you remember me amid all of my new crazy? I'm in here somewhere.There is this hollow inside of me, this empty space that is reserved for the rise and fall of the insane sadness that is all I have left. The empty space that I fill with the wonderings of why you couldn't take your first step. It's filled with all of the breaths you didn't take. Sometimes, I wonder if you took me with you.
  Those are the nights and the days and the weeks that my heart is pounding through my chest, shattering every piece of myself that has grown back together in mismatched pieces. Those are the nights I never want to sleep again and all I want to do is sleep. The days when I want to be alone and I need to be surrounded.
  Some days I feel like I'm stepping over the memory- just to make it  through the day, I walk past what I don't want to remember. Push the confusion away and keep walking. But then I hit the wall and there's no door and there's nowhere else to go. I fall to the floor and the confusion is twice as big and twice as loud. Sometimes the weather changes and the sun is shining on the snow and all I can see is your casket in the shade of the pine tree. The sun is blinding against the blue sky and the winter will never end again. These are the hardest days of my life, and they happen again and again. Every year without you.
 But there are moments that I can see clearly. When your brother is asleep, i see your face. When your sister laughs, I hear your voice. Even if these memories aren't real, I will hold onto them until I can hold onto you.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014


Still, nearly seven years later,  my heart is screaming. Why.  What did I do.  Why. Why.  What did I do.  Tonight,  all I want to think about is her.  I want to close my eyes and hold my breath until I can remember her smell.  The way she felt in my arms.  The way she felt in my body.  The life that came before her death. I want more.  I want photographic evidence she was here.  I want to plan a sleepover for her giggling friends.  I want to hold her hand.  I want to hear her voice.  I want to feel her breath in my hair.  I want.  I want.  Why.  Why.  Why.  Still,  Why.