21 Hats for Olivia

In memory of Olivia and the 21 weeks that she fought and beat the odds, my Husband and I decided to donate 21 hand crocheted hats, similar to the one that Olivia wore, to the hospital at which we delivered.  It was wonderful to be able to give something to others going through a similar, heart wrenching experience.  Olivia's hat was gorgeous and still makes me smile every time I see it and think of her in it.  I ordered the hats through Ava Baby's Boutique!  The lady who runs the site talked to me via phone and e-mail and made sure everything was perfect.  She was great in helping me get Olivia's outfit on time too.  On Olivia's 1 month anniversary, my Step Mom and myself took our box full of beautiful hats down to the hospital and donated them in Olivia's name.

Going Back to Work & Support Groups

So, after about three weeks of moping around the house and just trying to get through my day to day, I decided that I needed a change, but I was terrified of returning to work.  I am a substitute at the school my husband works at, so everyone knew that we were expecting, but that we weren't sure what was going to happen, at this point, they also knew that we had lost our Daughter.  I had sent an e-mail out before my husband returned to work giving a brief account of what happened and that I, not my Husband, would be more than willing to answer any and all questions that they had.  I also said that I would rather people talk to me about it than treat me as if nothing ever happened or like I am fragile and breakable.  I was so tired of feeling like I need to tip toe around everyone's emotions because they are uncomfortable when I was clearly breaking inside.  I just wanted people to be real with me.  What terrified me the most though was the students.  It was obvious that I was pregnant when we lost Olivia, as I was 21+ weeks, and if I was asked if I was, I was honest about it.  I just didn't go around the school broadcasting that I was pregnant.  I didn't know what to say to students who asked, or what to do about all the odd looks, but I sucked it up and put myself back on the call list.  It was another week before I returned.

That first day back was an emotional one.  It took everything I had to hold it together.  I felt like everyone was starring at me, but that no one wanted to say anything to me.  Students, more so than faculty, kept starring at my belly, trying to figure out what was so different.  I kept my composure until I had my lunch and prep periods, during which I just broke down.  The end of the day could not have come quick enough, and I was so thankful when I was able to retreat back to the home I had felt prisoner in for so long.  Home was now a safe place, out of the prying eye of the public and close to my Son and Daughter.  As time passed, it got easier to go to work, and eventually people were even willing to talk to me about my experience with my Daughter, and several people even asked to see pictures.  It was nice to have to support of those around me.

Once I noticed how talking about Olivia made me feel and I didn't want to continue to burden people who didn't really want to hear about our story, I decided to attend a support group.  The hospital at which we delivered offered one monthly, and I found another online that met a little further away, also monthly.  My Husband and I started attending both, since that meant I would be able to go 2x a month, basically every other week, but quickly weened down to just the one at the hospital.  It was a relief to be able to talk about my Daughter and how much she meant to me, the ups and downs I was experiencing, and to be able to share her pictures and the things that we had done for her.  I truly appreciate everything that the support groups have done for me!

Nightmares & Dreams...

I briefly mentioned having a peaceful nights sleep the day we brought our daughter's cremains home, well, that was because up until that point I was having nightmares nightly.  The nightmares were all about my Son.  Someone was always taking him, and it was usually a family member.  When I say taking him, I don't mean in a good way, I mean they were stealing him away from me.  This was extremely hard for me because we had family staying with us.  I was up 5-6 times a night checking on him, and slept with the monitor on (which I hadn't done since he was 4 months old).  I even went as far as sleeping on his floor for portions of the night.  I kept thinking that something was going to happen to him.  I don't know if this was because he was still a baby himself (almost 9 months old) and I felt that because we lost one baby we might lose two, or if it was just a reaction to loosing a child in general, but the nightmares were tearing me up inside. 

After Olivia came home the nightmares became a lot less frequent, although the quality of my sleep, with the exception of that one night, did not improve much.  My nightmares of losing my Son turned to dreams of my Daughter, and although they were peaceful they still woke me up.  Sometimes I would wake up with my arms cradled like she was snuggled safely there, and other times I would sit bolt upright and rub my belly like she was still in there.  The dreams were so real and so vivid that it was like she was right there with me.  It was comforting and eerie all at the same time.

Over time, the dreams began to subside, but even now (5 months later) I still have dreams!

Deciding on Cremation

I thought I would write a brief post on why my Husband and I chose cremation over burial.  For me, personally, burial was to permanent.  I wanted to be able to hold my daughter, to see her and talk to her, whenever I wanted.  I did not want to have to get in a car and drive to see her.  I also do no know if we are going to be staying where we are forever and did not want to have to leave her behind or have her disinterred and moved, just to go through the burial process all over again.  It just seemed to painful.  I am extremely happy with the decision that we made and am so happy that we have her with us, where she belongs!

The Weeks After Loss

The weeks after giving birth to our sleeping daughter and leaving the hospital without her are a blur.  Family was afraid to leave me alone and I was afraid to break down and cry in front of them.  I felt completely numb.  I felt like I was being forced to go through the motions of the day when all I wanted to do was look myself away in bed and cry.  I felt like a captive in my own house and in my own body!  It was ridiculously exhausting to put on a false face and go through each day.

The first thing I remember doing is going online to find the perfect urn to place our daughter's ashes in.  I remember being obsessed with finding something that I deemed good enough for her.  It seemed, after hours of searching, that I would never find anything that was perfect.  I mean, who should even have to be looking for an urn for their baby.  It just seemed so wrong.  Eventually, I was able to find one that I loved, even though it was for a "small child" and would be to big.  I knew it would be perfect because she would not have to be in there alone.  We would be able to put her lamb in with her, along with roses, and notes from my Husband, Son and I.

I also managed to get out of the house one day to go and get things to make Olivia a scrapbook and a shadowbox.  My Mother In Law went with me, and though I appreciated the company and I love her dearly, she kept trying to purchase everything that I picked out.  I just didn't have much fight left in me at this point, and thought I stated that I wanted to be able to purchase these things for my daughter, but I am not sure I said it loud enough for her to hear or even that I said it out loud.  I did find comfort in going out and shopping for my daughter,even if it was for a "memorial" object type object.  In fact, I found that the more I did for her, in her name, or in her memory, or just for me for her, the easier it was for me to get through my day, so I busied myself in an almost obsessive way with doing just that.

The Shadow Box contains the blanket we swaddled Olivia in, her hospital bracelet, 

a duplicate of the gown she wore, the hat she wore, and the stuffed animal we bought for her.

March 16th was the day that we were able to pick our daughter's ashes up.  It was a bittersweet day for me because I so wanted my daughter with me, to hold whenever I wanted, but I so wished that I wouldn't have to pick her up in the form of ashes and hold her in a little box.  The funeral director was kind enough to take her to my Mother In Laws so that we did not have to go to the funeral home to get her.  He was also kind enough to not seal her ashes so that we could move her, and more importantly, see her, when we (more me) when we wanted.  I had an odd sense of peace once her ashes were in my arms.  It was like that huge piece of me that had been missing had returned, though definitely broken.  That was the first night that, after I got all of my crying out, I slept the night without having nightmares.

Finally, after a little over a week, all of our family left and my Husband went to work.  I was alone (with our son).  I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to keep myself together enough to be able to care of him and give him the love and attention he deserved, but I managed.  Whenever he napped, I would sit and cry, and cry, and cry, and cry.  It was such a relief to be alone and be able to cry and let all of my feelings out.  I had felt so trapped with family around, like they expected me to be strong, and like they would never leave if I didn't seem "ok."

I still cried myself asleep every night and had to force myself from bed every morning, I still broke down when my son napped, or when I saw or heard certain things, but I was managing to get through the day, one day at a time!

Poems On Loss

Little Snowdrop
T he world may never notice
If a snowdrop doesn’t bloom.
Or even pause to wonder
If the petals fall too soon.

But every life that ever forms,
Or ever comes to be,
Touches the world in some small way
For all eternity.

The little one we long for
Was swiftly here and gone.
But the love that was then planted
Is a light that still shines on.

And though our arms are empty,
Our hearts know what to do.
Every beating of our hearts
Says that we do love you!


Poem Unknown
If tears could build a stairway
And memories a lane,
I would walk right up to Heaven
And bring you back again.

No farewell words were spoken,
No time to say “Goodbye”.
You were gone before we knew it,
And no one knows why.

My heart still aches with sadness,
And secret tears will flow.
What it meant to love you-
No one can ever know.

But now I know you want me
To mourn for you no more.
To remember all the happy times,
Life still has much in store.

Since you’ll never be forgotten,
I pledge to you today-
A hollowed place within my heart
Is where you’ll always stay.

-Unknown Author



To the Child of My Heart

O precious, tiny sweet little one
You will always be to me
So perfect, pure and innocent
Just as you were meant to be.

We dreamed of you and of your life
And all that it would be
We waited and longed for you to
Come and join our family.

We never had the chance to play.
To laugh, to rock, to wiggle
We long to hold you, touch you
And to listen to you giggle.

I will always be your mother,
He’ll always be your dad.
You will always be our child,
The child that we had.

But now you’re gone…
But yet you’re here.
You are our sorrow and our joy,
There’s love in every tear.

Just know our love goes deep and strong,
We’ll forget you never.
The child we had, but never had,
And yet will have forever.

-Author Unknown


All our hopes and dreams
Now carried on butterfly wings!


A Mother’s love cannot be measured by increments of time,
An entire lifetime of love can be squeezed into a few brief miraculous moments when necessary…

Poems on Grief

Grief

My grief is like a river,
I have to let it flow,
But I myself determine,
Just where the banks will go.

Some days the current takes me
In waves of guilt and pain
But there are always quiet pools
Where I can rest again.

I crash on rocks of anger
My faith seems faint indeed
But there are other swimmers
Who know just what I need

And loving hands to hold me
When the waters are too swift
And someone kind to listen
When I just seem to drift

Grief's river is a process
Of relinquishing the past
By swimming in Hope's channels
I'll reach the shore at last

~Cynthia G. Kelley~


The Pit

The day my child died, I fell into the pit of grief.
My friends watched me struggle through daily life,
waiting for the person I once was to arise from the pit,
not realizing "she" is gone forever.

The pit is full of darkness, heartache and despair,
it paralyzes your thoughts, movements and ability to ration.
The pit leaves you forever changed,
unable to surface the person you once were.

Some of my pre-grief friends gather around the top of the pit,
waiting for the old me to appear before their eyes,
not understanding what's taking me so long to emerge.
After all, in their eyes, I've been in the pit for quite sometime.
Yet in my eyes, it seems as if I fell in only yesterday.

Not all of my pre-grief friends are gathered around the top of the pit.
Some are helping me with the climb out of the darkness.
They climb side by side with me from time to time,
but mostly they climb ahead of me, waiting patiently at each plateau.
Even with these friends I sometimes wonder i
f they are also waiting for the pre-grief me to magically appear before their eyes.

Then there are the casual acquaintances, you know the ones who say,
"Hi, how are you?" when they really don't care or really want to know.
These are the people who sigh in relief, that it is my child who died and not theirs.
You know...the "better them, than me" attitude.

My post-grief friends (and a rare pre-grief friend) are the ones who climb with me,
side by side, inch by inch, out of the pit with me.
They are able to reassure me when I need reassurance, rest when I need resting,
and encourage me to move forward when I don't have the strength.
They have no expectations, no memories and no recollection of how I "should" be.
They want me to get better, to smile more often and find joy in life,
but they also accepted the person I've become.
The "person" who is emerging from the pi!

Author Unknown