I'm Sorry...

...but I'm not sorry.

Please don't get me wrong, I am truly happy for your child being able to...

• ride their bike on just two wheels
• tie their shoes
• write their name
• *insert any number of firsts at the preschool age* 

Maybe I am jealous.

Deflated.

Crushed.

Robbed.

Or maybe I am angry.  I'm not angry at you.  I'm just angry at the unfairness.

In 55 days, she would have been going to kindergarten.

And in some ways, I have been robbed.  I haven't been robbed of material things, but of a life that I had grown and nurtured for over 4 years...nearly 5 years if you go by the time of conception.

Numerous hospitalizations.  Vomiting that seemed to have no end.  All in an effort to keep both me and this precious little girl healthy until it was time to take of her on the outside.

I took care of this little girl, with the best of my ability for 4 years, 1 month and 10 days until I had to hand her over to the care of the professionals.  And even then, I stood by in a supporting role for another 8 days.  All for what???  To have her yanked from my arms...to lose every last first I had hoped to see with her...to cheer her on...to push her to attain....to support her in everything she tried.

So, if you don't know me real well and I say something to the effect of, "Enjoy that last...xyz" it's not because I'm trying to make you feel bad.  It's because I yearn to have that last xyz with my Cora.  Cherish those moments with your babies.  Love them like it's the last day you'll get to spend with them.  Relish in the memories that you get to make with your children this summer instead of wishing it away.

So in all things...I am sorry, but yet...I'm not.

Retreating Into Myself

There are some days when you can just tell that you should have stayed in bed.  Today has been one of those days.  I got up and got the girls off to school, but by the time I got home, the panic/anxiety started to set in.  This usually leads to my extreme quietness and overall unhappy demeanor.  No one has done anything to me.  I'm not angry at anyone.  I'm just off.  Just down.

We started attending a new church last week and we have been working our way into the different activities that are available to us.  Sunday, both girls were able to attend their respective 'classes' during the worship service.  Grace came out saying, "The flood was really instantaneous?  People died just like that?"  Yes.  The flood happened.  The only one that was prepared was Noah and his family.  That was an interesting conversation.

On Wednesday, we went to church again.  The girls went their separate ways.  Grace was off to youth and Rae got to participate in a girls only class.  Grace came out raving about her time.  They played the music obnoxiously really loud and it made her stomach flutter...which was AWESOME.  She loved it!

Rae wrote something on her paper that she'd worked on.  I looked at it and she said, "You'll probably not understand what it says."  I read it out loud and she said, "No."  She then proceeded to say, "God can save people.  He could have saved Cora, but He didn't."  I tried to explain to her that God needed her in heaven more than we needed her here on earth. "No mom.  He could have saved her.  But, he didn't."  Oh sob.  Oh child...if only it were that simple.  And if only I could help you understand it.

She is so black and white.  Cut and dry. 

Since we moved here, she has really begun to miss her sister.  It is very evident.  She is missing her buddy.  There is a whole new learning curve for her.

So...I'm left trying to figure out how to minister to my girls' hearts.  I often think they're lost on this journey, much like I am. 

It's a roller coaster and I can only hope that people can understand my quietness...my retreating...because I can't survive without it.

Holding It In

Have you ever held your head with both hands in an effort to keep everything contained?  As in, there is so much rattling around in your head that you feel as though if you don't hold on with both hands, it might all come spilling out?  Or maybe you've curled up into a tiny ball in an effort to keep every last emotion held in.

This has been me...almost every day.

This grief thing is still happening.  For the last week or so, I have felt so drained...so exhausted.  I go to sleep early and get up with the girls at around 6:45.  I have been lucky enough to be able to be home for the last month and a half without having to work, but with moving and cleaning our former home, etc...that has been most time consuming.  Then tack on grief, the relief of being done with the move, and Cora's birthday...I guess it all took its toll.  By mid-afternoon, I'm spent and my bed is calling to me.  And yes, the last couple of days...I have given in. As some other parents who have lost their children have said, "Be kind to yourself."  I am.

As if losing a child isn't difficult enough, I feel like there was more between Cora and I.  While Grace is most like me in the aspects of looks (curly hair, glasses, height, personality *to some degree*)...Cora was my mini-me.  She was a lot like me in personality, but also emotionally.  We had this emotional connection.  We had the same love language.  We're snugglers.  Even when I didn't really feel like having someone on me, Cora inevitably ended up in my lap.  We did everything together and she was my helper.  She was my 'baby-baby'.

I think parents of multiple children can relate to some degree, especially if you have two or more.  In relationships you often talk about 'soul mates' and 'the one', but with children...what do you call that?  Children are a gift, but there's more than that.  There is a connection with all of your children.  Mom's know what I mean.  Whether you have carried those babies in your belly, adopted them, 'inherited' them, or married into them...however you became a parent...there is a connection.

Then there is a different connection.  I'm not saying they are your favorite, but there is some kind of 'understanding' or different bond.  Does this make sense?  Probably not.  I would grieve no differently for any of my children, but due to this bond between Cora and I...it feels deeper.  It just does.  Period.  Even if it makes no sense to anyone else.  It does to me.

Maybe our bond is because I realized what a special gift she was...taking me to the brink of death when I was pregnant.  Exaggeration?  No.  My home health nurse told me just how grey I was when she first started coming to the house.  It was bad.

Maybe our bond is because she was the youngest.

I'm not sure, but I know that God does.  He's ministering to my heart.  I yearn for that connection again.  I miss it immensely.  And there is just no one...not one that can fill it.

Life Continues

So many times, I've thought about sitting down to blog and I just haven't.  Mainly, I get to that point where I don't feel like anyone wants to hear me 'cry' about my hurting heart.  The pain that often rears its ugly head and reminds me that it's in fact, still there.  Yeah...I haven't wanted to share that.

In the last couple of months, so many things have changed.  We visited a friend and her family in a town a little over an hour away from us during Christmas break.  We really liked the feel of it.  We liked the endless possibilities that were available.  Jokingly, Jay said to me, "Hey!  We should move there."  I think he expected me to say, "NO!  Absolutely NOT!"  Instead, I really thought about it. 

In January, we started making serious efforts to move.  By February 13th, we were signing a lease for our new home.  Since then, we have moved.  We have enrolled the girls in a new school.  We have tilled our garden space and planted flowers.  We have explored the area and love all that there is to offer here.  Oh and one of the best parts of our new home?  We have a sun room or as they say here in Arizona...an 'Arizona Room'. 

Since the end of February, I was preparing myself for Cora's birthday.  I knew it was coming.  I had other friends registering their kiddos for kindergarten.  And in my down time, I cried.  A lot.  I really wasn't ready for her birthday.  Let's be honest...I still want her here.  I miss her like crazy.  Knowing how difficult it was going to be, I ordered her a cake with butterflies on it.  I found a butterfly 'Happy Birthday' banner at Dollar Tree along with some spiral butterfly decorations.  I was ready and yet I wasn't.

We had some dear friends come to help us celebrate.  I usually take a picture of the birthday girl with her cake, as I do with all of the girls, but instead, had the 4 kids stand with the cake.  Then, I lit the candles and we sang to Cora.  The kids blew out the candles together.  After the dishes were done and the girls tucked into bed, I headed to bed myself.  In my sweet slumber, Cora came to me.  She was running and playing.  She called out to me.  It was her voice...100%.  Oh how I have missed it.  She said, "Momma!  Look at me!  Look at me!"  Her eyes danced.  She smiled.  Her hair shimmered in the sunshine.  And she was my kid.  Healthy and whole.

Cora would have been 5.  She would be going to kindergarten this fall.  And, I feel a bit robbed.  I endured 9 months of hyperemesis, including a PICC line to have that sweet baby.  I changed countless diapers and potty trained her.  I snuggled her, made boo-boos better, and took her to the doctor when she was sick.

And yet, my home is short one sweet voice.  I'm short my snuggle buddy.  Life doesn't seem right without her. 

But...it's almost been a year.  Will life ever seem right without her?

Slide Over Life

**I started writing this at the end of January, so I'm going to wrap it up and post the next one I'm working on.**

Life is just moving forward.  This flurry of holidays and then a few days ago, it seems, it was January 1st.  The whole year lay before me.  Then birthdays.  Those have come and gone.  And now...it's just life.  We're nearly at the end of January and it feels as though it has only just begun.

Lots of potential change in life around the corner.  And most days, my Cora just sits in my heart.  The grief has become less of a burden.  Life has moved over and grief is just tucked in along side of it.  I don't always cry every day.  Yes, some days are far more difficult to handle.

I'm tired.  A lot.  Life in general, is dragging me down.  I am in need of that eagle...for the purpose of his wings.  I am weary.  Tired of this journey.  There is too much.  I need a life simplified and yet...it will never be simplified.

So many things have become apparent.  Things that I really can't share. Aside from grief, there's a reasoning for my jaw pain.  I've learned what I need to do to keep it from flaring.  For that...I am grateful.

I do feel out of sorts...like I don't belong anywhere anymore.

I've had several nights where I've gone to sleep before the girls. And when I say that, I literally crash out on the couch and there I stay until Jay wakes me up to let me know it might not be a great place to stay for the night.

And mostly, I'm letting my body tell me what it needs.  Mainly...it's rest. So...I go with it.

Monday Morning Revelations

This weekend, I hit a bit of a wall.  I am the queen quite gifted at hiding things.  As a matter of fact, I guess I am stronger than I often think because of this.  So, I continue on with life, thinking that I can handle any and everything...holding it all together, all by myself.  When I say "handle any and everything" I truly mean all. of. it. Finances (bills, food, etc.), feelings, grief, home life, children, cleaning, laundry, work, social life (whatever that is), friends...all. of. it. 

Here's the thing...when things life becomes overwhelming and I see that I can't "handle any and everything", I begin to shut down.  What does that mean exactly?  It is essentially the "I don't care" mode.  My children aren't listening to me?  Eh...okay.  Life is happening?  Hide in my room.

I don't want to deal with any of it.  I don't want to deal with life.  And, it becomes easier to hide my head in the sand and pretend that none of it exists.

The problem with that?  It does exist.  The sun still comes up in the morning and it still sets in the evening regardless of whether or not I can see it due to the clouds of life that cover it.  I can close my eyes and sleep until morning, but life will still be there.

The hardest part of being in this mode is that I begin getting flooded with thoughts that really aren't true.  "I'm a terrible mother.  The girls would be happier if..."  "I'm not really loved.  He'd be happier if..." 

And that's the other part of this "handle any and everything"...the happiness of others.  I'm holding all of this together...I'm making it work, but wait!  Everyone doesn't seem to be happy.  The heck with it! 

Somewhere in all of it...I let myself get lost.  I'm drowning in life and I'm gasping for air.

And for the first time ever, I have someone who helped me see that.  Someone who let me talk it out, let me get those thoughts out and really figure out what was at the heart of the problem.

Why am I writing about it?  Well, because I think we all get this way sometimes.  We just don't know where to begin or have just the right person to pull it out of us.

Repeating Memory

Yesterday marked Cora's 8 month angelversary.  It doesn't seem at all possible.  Eight months.  Eight months missing a whole host of things.  If you're friends with me on facebook, you know that I found her shoes in the bucket next to the door.  They got put back in the bucket, but I got to thinking...would her feet be bigger by now?  Would she be taller?  Would her hair be longer?  Would it be lighter or darker?

I measured the older kids on the door like we have done countless times before.  I had to keep myself from looking for Cora's last mark on the door.  The other day, I caught myself looking to see where Cora was in the back of the house because I swore that I'd heard her.  What would her personality be like right now?  Would she be writing her name?  Tying her shoes?  Zipping her jacket?

Out of all these wonderings, I keep thinking back to that morning when she passed...begging the doctor that there had to be something that could be done...something to save my baby's life.  And I know as I laid there with my hand on her chest, feeling her precious heart beat beneath it, that with the words, "Go to Jesus" coming out of my mouth...my head was screaming NOOOOOO!  Come back to me Cora...COME. BACK. TO. ME!!!  I need you!  Oh sweet child...I need you.

I'm sure God knew my heart.  I wonder if Mary, Jesus' mother, had those same thoughts.

Today...I got hugged by the superintendent today.  She told me that she had been thinking about and praying for me.  All I can say is...only in a small town.

Also...the outpouring of support that we've received from our small town and from friends across the world, has been by far overwhelming.  I tried to submit a letter to the editor in the newspaper to thank the people here, but I've not seen it printed.  I will forever be grateful.

I continue to hold my breath, waiting to see what the next day will hold, but for now, I'm doing the very best that I can.  Some days getting out of bed and ready for work is a real accomplishment.

For now, I am focusing on birthdays.  One this Saturday and one the following Saturday.  Baby steps as usual.  One step in front of the other.  That gives me progress.