tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5214176951009366592024-03-13T20:00:31.911-07:00Mourning's Lightmore than death, she had lifeAlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.comBlogger208125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-8446228525902094362015-03-30T07:16:00.000-07:002015-03-30T07:16:41.363-07:00Spring again. Goodbye again.As warmer air creeps in past the curtains of my open windows, it's Keely's time of year again. <br />
<br />
On the day she died, I was wearing summer clothes - a pink headwrap, a black tank top and flip flop sandals.<br />
<br />
On the day she was born, a cold wind whipped through the air, a dark sky cried freezing rain we barely felt.<br />
<br />
Cold nights and warmer days, these are the days that remind of that time. Those early, dark days spent in shock, planning her funeral, planning her birth. We stayed up, unable to consider sleeping. We watched videos in otherwise silence. I can name each one. Our food left uneaten, so many words left unsaid. <br />
<br />
We've come a long way from those days when we didn't know how to face a life where our child's life ended. It still feels so surreal. Our child's life ended. Those words, or something similar, have crossed my lips countless times in the past 8 years and each time has it's own sadness that it's true and a welcomeness that I can speak of her. <br />
<br />
Her brothers and sister speak her name often, always including her in our family moments. She is very much with us and very much alive in that sense. We are lucky. We are grateful.<br />
<br />
But she is still gone. Gone from our arms, gone from these moments in the way she should be present.<br />
<br />
Only a fabrication in my own mind of what life would be like if she'd lived survives. <br />
<br />
The first butterflies of the year and an occasional rainbow will have to be enough; reminders that she lives in other ways.Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-90524513138635088132015-03-30T07:04:00.000-07:002015-03-30T07:05:17.895-07:00I know how you feel..I debated in my mind whether or not to post this here. I try to keep Keely's place a very positive, hopeful reflection of her contribution to this world. But it is also a place of grief. <br />
<br />
7.5 years into my bereavement, I have some small things to offer the bereavement community, the newly bereaved, and also those looking for ways to support the bereaved. Some of those ways are beautiful, supportive acts of kindness, and some ways are simply knowing what not to say, knowing when not to speak, knowing when to stop what you're doing and acknowledge nothing can be done.<br />
<br />
I read something a few weeks ago that has bothered me since. An acquaintance of mine has a child battling cancer. Cruel, awful, heartless, frightening cancer. Her child. They've been at the battle for 3 years with her 6 year old- half her life. As they gear up for their 3rd round, she alerted our group to the news. One response grabbed my attention.<br />
<br />
"I know how you feel"....<br />
<br />
She went on to say that she had spent several weeks waiting on news regarding her friend's husband and his cancer. Let's just overlook that this was not her child or even a member of her family. Just look at those powerful words alone.<br />
<br />
Grief is a personal, very individual journey and those words simplify something with an indefinable complexity into a common thread. <br />
<br />
<br />
Choose your words carefully and understand that, often, less words are more powerful than a thousand. There are no words that can ease the burden of loss, but there are words that are always sweet; like hearing my child's name and to know she's remembered. To hear 'I'm sorry'. To hear (and see) "I'm here to support you in whatever way you need'. <br />
<br />
Grief cannot be compared. Comparisons are in vain. Every person has a different perspective, different memories, a different outlook than the next, even when grieving the same person or a similar loss. <br />
<br />
Words can't change our grief but they are powerful still. Words can aid in healing or cut like a knife.<br />
<br />
Choose them carefully.<br />
<br />
~Originally written in July 2014Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-55123747732261462042015-01-08T13:45:00.001-08:002015-01-08T13:45:58.229-08:00I've been here...Though I haven't posted in quite some time, I've been here. I've been writing. <br />
<br />
I feel like I'm walking a delicate balance right now. Almost 8 years into grief, I know some things. They feel like secrets that none of the veteran bereaved told me when I was fresh on this journey. But now I see why. There are hard, definite truths that are hard to swallow. You don't want anybody to rush to those truths, or to know them too soon. Because it's <i>always</i> too soon.<br />
<br />
I've written several posts that I felt like I needed to sit on, wallow in, even. I needed to make sure they were ready for other eyes to see them, knowing that some of those eyes will be tear stained from the early, darkest days. <br />
<br />
So please know that I'm still here, praying for you, wherever you are in this journey. You are not alone. Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-12191247320458307772014-08-28T08:56:00.002-07:002014-08-28T08:56:44.387-07:00Gratitude...From the very early days of Keely's death, I wanted people to know that I wouldn't give back the time we had with her to take away the pain. Her life MEANT something, to us and to many others. <br />
<br />
I want to say how very lucky we are. We've had our downs. Obviously, if we could have all of our children in our arms, we would. But that isn't the hand that was dealt and still? We are very blessed.<br />
<br />
I read the following on Facebook today.... "Life couldn't possibly get worse."<br />
<br />
That's like tempting fate, if you ask me. It can ALWAYS get worse. Nothing negative ever came from counting your blessings.<br />
<br />
I am beyond grateful for my children. Even though we buried one of our beloved, we have 4 beautiful living children and 1 beautiful angel. <br />
<br />
For every mother who's children fight tooth and nail constantly, there's someone wishing their child was there to throw toys around the living room.<br />
For every mother who's buried her child, there's a woman wishing she could get pregnant at all.<br />
For every couple struggling with infertility, there's a woman wishing she could find the love of her life to try with. <br />
<br />
There is always someone praying for what you already have. <br />
<br />
I have moments of ingratitude but I hope that my legacy as a whole, both to my family and to strangers I pass on the street is one of gratitude and love. <br />
<br />
How's that saying go? <br />
<br />
"Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind always."<br />
<br />
(thank goodness for google or I'd never quote anything right!Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-8605138648485278362014-07-24T07:28:00.001-07:002014-07-24T07:28:39.175-07:00Kindness...There isn't much I get to do for Keely as her mother. I can miss her with every ounce of my being every day of my life and I do. But, there is more.<br />
<br />
When babies and children die, their legacy is quite simple. Babies don't discriminate. Babies aren't jealous of the neighbor's house. Babies aren't worried about the clock or the number on the bank deposit. Babies have an agenda, though. A very simple agenda. Love.<br />
<br />
Jesus called us to be like the little children. Jesus called us to love.<br />
<br />
In Keely's honor today, and every day, I will love. I will love my children more than words can say. I will love my husband beyond the boundaries of this life. I will love my neighbors, strangers on the street. I will love.<br />
<br />
It isn't always human nature and oftentimes I fail. But every day I will try a little harder. Another gift Keely gave us; a desire to love more.<br />
<br />
XOXOAlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-54327796479107821592014-07-19T06:17:00.000-07:002015-03-30T07:17:58.329-07:00What will I do with today?We've spent the better part of our adult lives working towards our "forever" house, building a place that our children will grow up in. We've spent a lot of time saying "after the house is done" or "after this baby comes".....<br />
<br />
And now we're here, in this sweet place in life where we are comfortable and very, very blessed. We have a home we love, a school the kids love, jobs we love.<br />
<br />
Now we are in this place we can sit back, appreciate our blessings and remember our girl at peace. <br />
<br />
This is my place to talk about her, miss her, remember her and think about how life would be if she had lived. It might feel sad to read at times. It is sad. We miss her with every ounce of being. <br />
<br />
But we HAD her. She is ours. <br />
<br />
I would do it all again just to have that little bit of time with her. She's an integral part of our family, just as each of our babies are. She is with us always.<br />
<br />
Grief is daunting. In the beginning, the shock is overwhelming. There is no preparation. Then you come to a point where you realize that grief is a part of you that will follow you always. It's overwhelming to think that if I live to be 110, that ache for my child gone will still be there. <br />
<br />
To look forward in early grief (which is a different time for everyone!), it's daunting to think about a sadness haunting the rest of your days. I'm here to tell you that the missing, the sadness, the hole is always there, there is happiness too. There will come a day that you aren't taken aback by laughter or be genuinely happy. Genuine happiness isn't lost to the bereaved. If anything, I feel like it runs deeper. <br />
<br />
I remember a saying that I clung to in early grief. It was a part of Keely's 1 year birthday celebration. <br />
<br />
<i>Our joys will be greater, </i><br />
<i>Our love will be deeper, </i><br />
<i>Our lives will be fuller</i><br />
<i>because we shared your moment.</i><br />
<br />
Soak in those words. They are so, so, so very true. Keely gave life a deeper meaning because she reminded us how very short it might be. <br />
<br />
If you're in the early days of grief, do what you need to do to get through the day: cry, scream, go on a long walk, watch The Food Network, talk to someone. It's different for everyone.<br />
<br />
But know you'll feel happiness again. It isn't that you will forget or move on, it isn't that there won't be tears behind your eyes for your little love not there Christmas morning or all the missed birthdays, but it's that you're grateful to have had that little bit of time at all.<br />
<br />
Laughter will come again.<br />
<br />
So now that are lives aren't as fast paced and hectic as they have been at times, I can reflect on our blessings and thank God for another beautiful day. A day I have to do something kind in memory of our Keely and a day to relish the hugs, kisses, and love of our living children.<br />
<br />
I hope today is a gentle day for all the bereaved. I hope the sun shines in your windows or on your face or that the sky cries with you, whichever you need more.<br />
<br />
XOXO<br />
<br />
<i>"Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." ~Steel Magnolias</i>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-13684214288589813152014-07-02T09:59:00.001-07:002014-07-02T09:59:18.334-07:00Another goodbye, but of a different kind.The posts on this page are few and far between now. It isn't for lack of words or lack of thought. It's a part of bereavement so heavy, even the veteran bereaved don't mention it. It's a weight we'll likely carry til our own passing of this life.<br />
<br />
At some point, which is different for everyone, the shock wears off. It sounds like a good thing, but it isn't. The shock is protecting us from the grim reality that this. is. forever. Never will we have even a single photograph of all of our children together. Never will we see a child at each stocking hung at Christmas. Never will the question "how many children do you have?" not send a lump into our throats. Never. Never. Never.<br />
<br />
When the shock wears off and we realize these nevers, there's a heavy burden that our heart carries. Yes, it scars over and we have our new normal but never (there's that word again) does it not ache. <br />
<br />
It seems too much to mention that to newly bereaved. They'll all know it eventually anyway. <br />
<br />
When other sad things on earth happen, I can go to my grief. We're well acquainted now and it's almost a comfort. I know what I'm doing there. So when my heart is called by worldly sadness, I can go to my grief of missing a child and know that what is weighing on my heart and mind isn't all that bad.<br />
<br />
_______________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
I grew up in a lovely house in an apple orchard on the top of a hill in southern Indiana. My parents built the house a few years before I was born. The house sits on property my family has owned for generations and 120 years. Also on that property is the family home. It was purchased by my great great grandparents and passed down through the generations. My aunt lives in it now but that time is passing. The house will likely be leaving the family in the very near future.<br />
<br />
It's a day in my life I never thought I'd see. It's going to be/already is a hard goodbye. <br />
<br />
It was a place that, throughout my childhood, housed many different members of my family in different stages of their lives, through happiness and heartbreak, through struggles and comfort. Through generations and passings, it has been the heart of our family. <br />
<br />
It was the meeting place for many, many family reunions, Thanksgivings, Easters, and Christmases. <br />
<br />
I have known harder goodbyes in my life, of course. The unexpected are always the hardest.Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-42070857355927810382014-04-11T06:55:00.001-07:002014-04-11T06:55:23.886-07:00In the sweet by and byWe will meet on that beautiful shore.<br />
<br />
I'm lost for words today. 7 years have passed. So long and gone in a blink. <br />
<br />
She left us a beautiful sunset last night and a beautiful sunrise today, only to give way to the rain. <br />
<br />
All our love, little one. AlwaysAlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-30931309386137232832014-03-31T11:09:00.001-07:002014-03-31T11:09:53.494-07:00A long time coming...I have been putting this one off for awhile. It's nothing groundbreaking. It's something that people, parents, have faced since the beginning of time, the beginning of bereavement. But I've put it off in order to accept it myself and while I still am not sure that has happened, I think I'll feel better to get it out.<br />
<br />
There's a heaviness. This weight comes every year as spring starts to form, a day here and there of warmth. These are the days Keely was alive. This is the time of year we had so much hope and just as the sun started to warm us up for the year, we lost her. It's inevitable that this time of year brings on emotions, good and bad. But this year is a turning point, I think. It is at least another phase.<br />
<br />
I can look out at my future, whatever it may bring and have at least one certainty. If I live to be 100, I'll still miss her. I'll still wonder. I'll still look at girls/women the age she would have been and see if I can catch of glimpse of what she'd be like today. To accept that fact is overwhelming. Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-3305230531975418852014-03-31T11:09:00.000-07:002014-03-31T11:09:03.970-07:00Open letter to the newly bereaved...An old friend of mine was sitting at a red light today and in a split second, her whole life changed. Her 2 year old son was killed when another vehicle ran a red light. Like so many people around her, from her past or even those who don't know her, I want to DO something. I want to help ease their pain somehow, when I know all too well nothing can be done. <br />
<br />
My mind keeps wandering back to them. It's hard to imagine on this chilly yet sunny day that someone's entire world is crashing around them. Not one or two people but many, many lives were touched by this little boy and now, by his death. These are their darkest hours. Nothing can be done.<br />
<br />
My immediate response is to reach out, to let her know that I'm here if she needs me. Without a doubt they are in shock right now. covered in people and questions, caring for their other child who is still in the hospital. I know they need time and that time will come when all these people surrounding them will go back to their lives and then, the bereaved are left to their grief. Their fresh grief. It seems so daunting, but nothing can be done.<br />
<br />
I want to write something that will help guide the newly bereaved. To help them know what to expect, to help them understand don't bother "expecting". I just feel the need to write. Maybe one person will tuck this away in their head or one person who needs it will read it and the ripples of Keely's waves will continue....<br />
<br />
1. <b>Every journey of bereavement is different</b>. Every mother, father, sibling, friend will be affected by the death of your child. Everybody affected will react in a different way to each day. You have to carve your own trail and look deep within yourself. Your feelings are okay. <br />
<br />
____________________________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
I wrote the beginning of this post 6 months ago. To be honest, I don't know why I didn't post it. It sat in my draft box unfinished for all this time. Maybe I felt it wasn't my story to tell or that it was too soon. Maybe it's still, after nearly 7 years of my own bereavement, too fresh for me. Any time I hear of someone losing their child, it comes back to me; those dark early days. Unthinkable before and unspeakable after. Those early, dark days.<br />
<br />
But I will finish my open letter. And anyone bereaved, feel free to add your own in the comments if you so wish. <br />
_____________________________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
2. <b>The road will get more smooth.</b> Sort of. No bereaved parent ever wants to hear that their grief or pain will go away, to give it time or that you'll feel better. And nobody EVER wants to hear that from someone who isn't bereaved. But, I can tell you that it changes, it evolves. It becomes a part of you in a way that I can't put into words. It will always, always be there but over time, those darkest hours will become less. The dark time will rear its ugly head and you'll face it again. But not every day, not every hour. <br />
<br />
3. <b> Your child will not be forgotten.</b> Seriously. That was one of my major concerns. I wanted to make sure she was included. In my number of kids, in my parents' number of grandkids. I was afraid if I didn't make it happen, it wouldn't. I was vigilant. I still am, but I don't feel the constant pressure that I once did. I have found a lot of comfort in the ways other people remember. They really do. Even if they don't always mention it, they remember. Not everyone, but a lot of them. <br />
<br />
To be continued...Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-71223589108938676692013-10-15T09:20:00.000-07:002013-10-15T09:20:55.391-07:00A day to remember...October 15th<br />
<br />
Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day<br />
<br />
A wave of light will sweep the world at 7 pm across all time zones<br />
<br />
In loving remembrance of the beautiful little souls who passed through this world far too quickly.<br />
<br />
Light a candle at 7 pm and remember with all of our broken hearts.<br />
<br />
XOXOAlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-56407752587884753082013-10-04T08:56:00.002-07:002013-10-04T08:56:58.217-07:00In remembrance...Time has marched on. In the time since I last posted, Keely has become a big sister once again. Though this time, it's a bit different. Our only other daughter was born. Keely now has a sister of her own. She came to us safely July 31st. She's beautiful and an old soul. So often, we wonder what should've been with her big sister; what kind of bond might they have had. What kind of bond might they have now that we can't possibly understand?<br />
<br />
We also built and moved into our forever house. We have a beautiful garden in the works for Keely. I love having a place just for her right in our yard. Her grave is an hour and a half away from us. While I'm glad she's buried with my grandmother, it hurts not being able to visit her everyday. Now we have a place of remembrance and that makes my heart sing. The anchor of her garden is a weeping cherry tree. Perfect.<br />
<br />
We are preparing for the holidays and have decided to do a random act of kindness each day for the month of November. <br />
<br />
So often throughout November, we are reminded to be grateful. Our family has been so blessed. Yes, we've had heartache and miss a member of our family everyday, but we had her. And that means we're lucky. We have each other and plenty to eat. We have our health and love and so many other things. We want to spread our gratitude out. Each day in November, we'll do one random act of kindness to reach out to someone else. We're starting a list and making a schedule. Any ideas are greatly appreciated. I'm trying to make it not always about money, but about time and thought. <br />
<br />
Some of our plans include:<br />
~drawing pictures for people at Great Grandma's nursing home.<br />
~picking up trash at a park<br />
~buying a coffee for the person in line behind or in front of us<br />
~donating time at a community kitchen<br />
~packing care packages for soldiers and families of soldiers<br />
~donating old toys<br />
<br />
<br />
I look forward to documenting our month of kindness on Keely's blog and hoping that it catches on. We'd love to hear more ideas!<br />
<br />
Though she's gone from this earth, her spirit lives on.<br />
<br />
XOXOAlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-71664720189420770752013-04-11T13:23:00.000-07:002013-04-11T13:23:13.074-07:00this is the day6 years ago right now, I was in labor. I remember every otherwise mundane moment of that day.<br />
<br />
We watched a reality show on the WE network about a wedding. It was awful. My dad brought back Red Robin for everybody there (aside from me, I wasn't allowed to eat). I wore pink slip on tennis shoes, a gray tank top, and black zip up shirt/pants to arrive. When I told the receptionist I was there for an induction, she looked at me with a most confused expression and said "YOU are being induced?". And then she looked at her records...<br />
<br />
So many little details that I remember so vividly and I'm not sure I ever recorded. For some reason, this year it feels important to write it all down. 6 years is a long time.<br />
<br />
Usually, the days and weeks leading up to the actual anniversaries (of death and birth) are harder than the actual day. Usually, the actual day is a bit of a relief. Not this year.<br />
<br />
This year, the sky opened up with rain, the sun hasn't peeked out all day and I feel so tired. I wanted badly to go to sleep last night and wake up tomorrow.<br />
<br />
As we left school from walking my oldest son in, a very excited little girl and her mother were hurrying into school. They were carrying cupcakes with the number 6 on them. <br />
<br />
We got lovely flowers from my mom and dad, to be planted in a garden just for Keely once our home construction is completed in a couple of months. I so wish she were here to smell them and feel like a big girl for receiving flowers.<br />
<br />
But her reward is much greater than pride and more fragrant than azaleas. <br />
<br />
Missing my little girl so much today. Every day, but especially on this day, the 6th anniversary of the first and last day I held her earthly body, saw those toes cross like my own, held her tiny hand. 6 years too long.<br />
<br />
XOXOAlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-29531294193374951832013-04-02T04:24:00.002-07:002013-04-02T04:24:46.908-07:00Words can't really describe6 years ago today, at 11:20 am, we watched as that beautiful heartbeat stopped and our girl slipped into the arms of God.<br />
<br />
How precious was the time we had with you and how blessed we are to still feel you near. <br />
<br />
We love you every second of every day, to the moon and back. We miss you with every bone in our bodies, every second of every day. We remember you and honor you with every breath. <br />
<br />
Words elude me today.<br />
<br />
I love you, Keely. So many love you.<br />
<br />
Someday, baby girl.<br />
<br />
XOXOAlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-73944467521805231342013-03-28T15:26:00.002-07:002013-03-28T15:26:59.826-07:00Is this ever normal?It will have been 6 years next Tuesday that we watched that sweet heartbeat stop.<br />
<br />
We are leaving now to go to the flower shop and choose new flowers for her grave.<br />
<br />
Does a mother or father ever get used to choosing flowers for their child's grave? It seems that if it were going to happen, it would have by now. There are times that it feels normal but most times, I remind myself that this isn't a dream. She was real. She was here. She is gone.<br />
<br />
We will send two dozen pink balloons plus a very special ones her brothers choose for her into the sky on Saturday. <br />
<br />
The world will go on. We will go on. But we will take her with us in each and every breath. And beyond.<br />
<br />
XOXOAlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-86628734938155410262013-02-26T16:15:00.004-08:002013-02-26T16:15:46.137-08:00what are the odds<span style="font-family: inherit;">My husband and I had chosen a weekend to set this years balloon release for Keely. I thought I'd see how far along I'd be on her angel day and birthday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Keely was 22w3 days along when she died on April 2nd. Her little sister will be 22w3d on April 2nd.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">What are the odds? We knew they were off on Keely's due date and knew roughly when it would have been but I had never given the actual date much thought. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm thinking of it as a little gift from Keely, taking care of her little sister.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">XOXO</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>Jeremiah 29:11</b> </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope."</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></span>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-37541752537453775522013-02-12T14:45:00.000-08:002013-02-12T14:45:15.617-08:00Every year, the inevitable...It's a warm day today, almost spring like. The birds are singing. The sun is out.<br />
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It's crisp and chilly still, but you can feel spring knocking on winter's door. <br />
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Those are the days that take me back to the darkest days of losing our first girl. It was so warm the day she died, I was dressed like it was summer. Then for her funeral, it was misty and chilly and so hard to keep warm graveside.<br />
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These warmer days, at the end of winter's chill bring back those vivid memories of losing her and it all feels like a dream. Nearly 6 years later, I remind myself that this is our story. <br />
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MISSing, Loving, Remembering. Always, on warm days and cool.<br />
XOXOAlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-74420264210076198152013-01-24T14:38:00.000-08:002013-01-24T14:38:03.685-08:00big news, big emotions<div style="background-color: white; color: #282828; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; padding: 0px;">
We found out a week ago today that we're having another baby girl! Her name is Marnie Dylan, named for my beloved grandmother. Her daddy and I are thrilled, the boys are thrilled and we feel Keely beaming from Heaven.</div>
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Each time we've been pregnant, we hear from many people (mostly strangers) that they hope it's a girl for us. A cashier at Target told us in front of my sons to "Keep trying for a girl!" and my oldest son said "We have a sister, but she died." I feel pretty sure that cashier will never tell anyone that again <img alt=":)" class="bbc_emoticon" src="http://www.missfoundation.org/forums/public/style_emoticons/default/smile.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" /> </div>
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Finding out (through dna testing, so it's a sure thing!) that we're having another baby girl has brought up some emotions I'm not even sure I can put into words. I will try.</div>
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Yes, I have a daughter and I'm always the first to point that out to anybody, but it's different. I have 3 amazing living sons. I know boys. I know about raising boys. I'm so thrilled to be having a little girl, but it's scary too. I cried in the baby girl's section of a store I was in out of sheer excitement. For nearly 6 years, I've looked at that section as I walked past as a place of 'what might have been'. I've mentally picked out Easter and Christmas dresses that we never bought. I remember well when I realized Keely would've outgrown the baby section by now. Just this week, I realized I've never purchased girl clothes. I have never gotten my nieces any clothes. I didn't purposely steer clear but now, looking back, I think I did. The baby girl clothing section has been forbidden. </div>
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These feelings are a lot of how I remember my first rainbow pregnancy being: 100% terror and 100% pure joy and excitement. It's new and exciting. It's new and unknown. </div>
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I'm SO excited, but I'm also so nervous. I don't want to pin someone else's existence on my baby daughter before she's even born. I wonder how Keely would feel about having a little sister; how Marnie will feel about having a big sister she never got to know on earth and maybe end up being the only living girl (we aren't finished but probably just 1 or 2 more). I feel like I'm putting unnecessary pressure on myself and she isn't even born yet. I don't want to screw it up.</div>
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The irrational side of me makes me want to make sure Keely knows she isn't being replaced or forgotten. I KNOW that won't happen. She's better cared for in Heaven than I could provide and I think my boys have adjusted supremely well each time a baby has been added to our family. I don't want our little Marnie to feel like a replacement either. She's not. She's her own incredible little addition to this family, as is every one of our babies, special, perfect, fitting in their own ways. We are blessed beyond reason and I hope each of my babies, earthbound and Heavenbound, know how much my soul aches for them to be together but more importantly, how much my love for them can reach beyond the moon and back. </div>
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I knew a lot of my feelings just aren't ripe for words yet. They will come in time. And then I'll be back.</div>
Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-83105440462188996632013-01-04T05:29:00.001-08:002013-01-04T05:29:57.986-08:00letters to Heaven...As Keely's little brother, our first rainbow baby, begins to grasp that his big sister died, many questions have come. You can see the lightbulb as he figures out what all of it means. In doing so, he wrote Keely a letter, sealed the envelope and asked me to sent it to Heaven. <br />
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I explained that we couldn't send letters to Heaven the way we can send Christmas cards, but I thought people in Heaven could get the messages in our heart, kind of like God hears our prayers. We talked about how God could take care of that.<br />
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We decided to put his still-sealed letter to the big sister he never got to know in her memory trunk.<br />
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Oh how I would love to know what it says...Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-67957191432840936742012-12-21T05:08:00.000-08:002012-12-21T05:08:13.770-08:00An announcementOur sweet little girl is a big sister, once again. We're expecting our 5th little blessing next summer. <br />
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After a prenatal loss, there is always fear that comes along with pregnancy. But, more than fear, there is hope. And our hopes are high.<br />
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Watch over your brother or sister, Keely <3 p="p"></3>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-14437930625318319442012-12-15T04:11:00.001-08:002012-12-15T04:11:23.334-08:00at least 40 newly bereaved parents in minutes...Yesterday, in a kindergarten classroom, 20 beautiful young souls lost their lives in unthinkable tragedy. <div>
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Today, their parents are likely watching the sunrise on one of the darkest days of their lives; the first day without their beloved child. </div>
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My heart breaks into a thousand pieces for them. How quickly life can, and does, change. Yesterday, they ate breakfast and sent their loved ones off to school. For the last time.</div>
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It's hard to even wrap one's mind around it. It's unfathomable.</div>
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All that can be said has been said. My heart is with Sandy Hook Elementary's victim's parents, whose lives will never, never be the same. I, along with much of the country, held my children close throughout the night, unable to shake the unshakable after hearing the unthinkable. </div>
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There just are no words.</div>
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"Weep with those who weep." Romans 12:15</div>
Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-55480156813804632662012-06-14T13:25:00.002-07:002012-06-14T13:25:32.044-07:00Nearer, Still Nearer<br />
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"Nearer, still nearer, close to Thy heart,<br />Draw me, my Savior—so precious Thou art!</div>
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<br />Fold me, oh, fold me close to Thy breast.<br />Shelter me safe in that “<a href="http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/h/a/v/havenres.htm" style="color: purple;">Haven of Rest</a>”;<br />Shelter me safe in that “Haven of Rest.”</div>
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Nearer, still nearer, nothing I bring,<br />Naught as an offering to Jesus, my King;<br />Only my sinful, now contrite heart.<br />Grant me the cleansing Thy blood doth impart.<br />Grant me the cleansing Thy blood doth impart.</div>
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Nearer, still nearer, Lord, to be Thine!<br />Sin, with its follies, I gladly resign,<br />All of its pleasures, pomp and its pride,<br />Give me but Jesus, my Lord, crucified.<br />Give me but Jesus, my Lord, crucified.</div>
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Nearer, still nearer, while life shall last.<br />Till safe in glory my anchor is cast;<br />Through endless ages ever to be<br />Nearer, my Savior, still nearer to Thee;<br />Nearer, my Savior, still nearer to Thee!"</div>
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Everyday, my girl, nearer to you in the arms of the Lord...</div>
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-87442769627665707732012-05-13T04:42:00.000-07:002012-05-13T04:42:23.443-07:00Mother's DayLast Sunday was International Bereaved Mother's Day. It just so happened that I saw a double rainbow in the sky, clear as can be. A beautiful gift. A promise from God.<div>
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Today is Mother's Day. I am beyond lucky to have these 3 beautiful living sons. They make this world brighter, they make my heart sing. They've made me a mother, taught me more than I ever could've imagined. I am beyond lucky to have had Keely for 22 weeks and 3 days, to have gotten to witness those final beats of her beautiful heart. She made this world a brighter place, she makes my heart sing. She makes me a mother and taught me more than I ever could've imagined. </div>
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They are all the reasons I am a mother. They are all my world. They are my beautiful, wonderful, loving, bubbly children. Each and every one of them.</div>
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Wishing a gentle mother's day to those wishing all their children were in their arms today. </div>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-24559498949835556592012-05-12T13:54:00.001-07:002012-05-12T13:54:13.908-07:00On vacation with us...Everywhere with usWe went to Disney World this past week. We had a fantastic trip, wonderful weather. We had {almost} everything we could ask for. We missed our girl, talked about her, talked about what she'd be like were she with us physically. We saw butterflies and remembered. We let a balloon go in front of Cinderella's castle in her honor. We missed her but were grateful for her presence in our hearts.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #156692; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; line-height: 10px; text-align: justify;">"No matter what happens, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #156692; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; font-style: italic; line-height: 10px; text-align: justify;">I'll always be with you</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #156692; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; line-height: 10px; text-align: justify;">. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #156692; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 10px; text-align: justify;">Forever. "</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #156692; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; line-height: 10px; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #156692; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; line-height: 10px; text-align: justify;">-Pocahontas</span>
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<br />Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-521417695100936659.post-44225437595910149712012-05-01T14:42:00.001-07:002012-05-01T14:42:09.466-07:00Draw me nearer, blessed Lord...As I read today about another family saying goodbye far too soon, I draw near to the heart of God. We may never understand why we are put on these journeys but we can be sure of the goal. <br />
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Wishing peace to the family in their darkest hours.<br />
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"<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;"><i>There are depths of love that I cannot know</i></span><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">Till I cross the narrow sea;</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">There are heights of joy that I may not reach</span><br style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">Till I rest in peace with Thee."</span></i>Alyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03676637083322358781noreply@blogger.com0