a delicate few

There are moments in your life that you want desperately to remember. With every thread of being in you, you want to capture every color, every smell, every sound in the eye of your memory. They are the moments you look back on and recall with great detail; defining moments of your life.

There are moments in your life that haunt you when you close your eyes to sleep. Moments that creep into your dreams and turn them to nightmares that you've already lived. Moments you try with every bit of you to forget, willing away the horrible feeling you had in you at that time. They are moments forever etched in your memory, however unwillingly they may be; defining moments of your life.

Then there are a few memories that are a delicate balance of both. Memories that defined who you are from that moment on. Memories that pain you to remember and pain you to forget.

My bittersweet defining moment was closing the casket. A relatively quiet moment, just my husband and living son at the funeral home, saying our final goodbye to the body that once held the soul of our little girl. A body that desperately needed to rest, earth time having taken its toll. A body that I desperately wanted to keep, willing that heart to beat again.

"I smell the blizzard in the air, winter's bitter love affair" OAR, delicate few

a day for mothers

Yesterday was a day colored in bittersweet, like most all special days of our family because one member is missing. I was given a gift by my Keely, though.

In church, we sang "Near to the heart of God". We sang that song at Keely's graveside at her funeral and it will always hold a special place in my heart. I sang the first two verses proudly and on the third, out of nowhere, I burst into tears. I'll take that song as my special mother's day present from my girl.

XOXO

butterfly season

"A butterfly lights beside us
and for a brief moment its beauty and glory belong to this world.
But then it flies on again
and though we wish it would've stayed, we feel lucky to have seen it at all".

It's butterfly season and each flutter reminds me of my girl, so very missed, so very loved. Always remembered. XOXO

We survived

We survived April 11, 2010, 3 years.

Into another year without our girl, determined to pass on her legacy. We had a lovely balloon release with just a few of the closest family members present. We released balloons for other MISSed children as well. Before our balloons were sent into the sky on a beautiful sunny day, we wrote message of love to our Keely. I made her a butterfly cake that we all shared after the balloons were far gone.

intuition

As I begin the journey of the subsequent (after loss) pregnancy for the second time and the worry about my 4th child is a constant companion, it's had me thinking back to my time carrying Keely; the last time I could be a "it won't happen to me" pregnant girl.

This pregnancy, I'm afraid that I'm mistaking my fear and worry for intuition. Is my being scared a way to warn me about something or cushion a blow that has yet to be seen? Realistically, probably not. It is what it is: fear and worry when you know all too well what can go wrong so very quickly in pregnancy.

But it has me thinking back to when I was pregnant with Keely and my mom got me a frame for one of our ultrasounds. We had just come from a successful visit at the OB and had seen Keely fluttering around, so very full of life. The frame is lovely and to this day, it sits on our shelf housing that very same ultrasound photo from the day we picked it up. We didn't know the gender at the time so it's green and says "love you now and forever". Immediately upon reading the phrase, it read to me like it was for a baby that had died. I didn't say anything at the time because I did like it and didn't want to sound morbid or like I didn't like the gift. That was the moment I look back on and think "maybe I knew". Maybe on some level, I was being prepared for the fact that we'd end up with a grave for our child instead of our child. Maybe something inside me knew.

But, maybe everybody has a random moment like that and nobody remembers them except the bereaved mothers, the ones who go back over every second of pregnancy wondering about sliding doors. What if?

I prodded friends and family recently to make sure I was a paranoid during my pregnancy with my first rainbow baby. They assured me I was a nut :)

"History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again." Maya Angelou

the purpose of life

A topic that has been pondered by every generation since the beginning of time and every conclusion has been drawn from people being the center of the universe to our existence being inconsequential. Regardless, it's still a question that is pondered daily.

I would never be so bold as to suggest I know the meaning of life aside from knowing that our true purpose is to live a life that guides us into the gates of Heaven upon our death.

But as the mother of a child who is (Lord willing) paving my way there, I believe that beyond the one true purpose, each life has a million little, everyday purposes. Furthermore, our purpose doesn't cease to exist when our soul finds its way Home. A legacy lives on in our name, a purpose of guidance to those left behind.

This may very well be coming out as a rambling mess, but I trust I'll feel better just getting it out there. Keely's life was so very short. Too short. But we've always known that her purpose far surpassed her years. Not only does her purpose surpass her years, but it goes beyond herself or even her siblings and parents. Many people love her. Many people are moved by her existence. Many people want to see her again. Many people are trying to be better people to be able to see her again. And it's not just Keely. Every soul who passes through this world, however quickly, has a purpose and while I can't pretend to understand, my faith lies in the fact that each path I cross is intertwined with my own and even without conscious, we are part of each other's lives. A very short life has done a whole lot of good. Good beyond measure.

"like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand" Bob Dylan

3 years ago today

At 11:20 am, 3 years ago today, our sweet Keely slipped into Heaven. She changed our lives in the blink of an eye and we miss her every second of everyday. So very, very missed but even more loved.

"rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine"