Baby Showers

Today I was talking with a good friend and she mentioned that she would be going to the baby shower of another friend of ours who is due a couple of weeks after I was. After I hung up the phone a while later, my mind drifted back to the thought of our friend's shower and I started to cry so hard. I am truly happy for my friend who is having the baby and of course I wish her well, but it was still hard for me to hear. Ada died a month and a half ago and I'm starting to get to the point where I can look at her picture and smile and look ahead to the future with hope - and then out of nowhere I'm reminded of what I should be doing right now. The pain is just so intense. I registered for baby gifts that I know Ada will never get, but I can't bring myself to delete the registry. I haven't even set foot in Target since she was born because I can't bear to walk past the baby stuff. Right now I should be putting the final touches on her room, writing lots of thank you notes, and washing her little clothes to prepare them for her. But instead, I'm...what? I'm doing nothing for her because there is nothing I can do! I'm still grieving my baby. I think about her all the time and miss her all the time. I am so thankful that I got to meet my beautiful Ada, but it is so unfair that we had to say hello and goodbye at the same time.

And to my friend who called me today, I'm sure you are reading this and feeling bad for mentioning the shower, but don't. Nobody can protect me from life. This is just part of the grieving process for me. You are a wonderful friend and I am so thankful that you called me and asked me about Ada. I wouldn't want it any other way. :)

Missing Gran

My grandmother passed away 7 years ago next month. I was pretty close to her, although not as close as I wish I had been. I have been thinking about her a lot lately though, partly because the anniversary of her death is just a few weeks away and her birthday was a few weeks ago. But mainly, I have been thinking about her because she lost her daughter too. My aunt was only 17 when she died of leukemia; I never knew her. What I have gone through and what my grandmother went through are vastly different experiences, but still, I wish I could talk to her right now. I wonder what she would say to me.

On another note, I have not been sleeping well lately. I am very tired, and I go to bed at a reasonable hour, but then I just lie there wide awake for hours. I think about Ada, and school, and what I should do with my free time in the afternoons, and everything else under the sun. My brain seems to work in overtime. I just wish I could turn it off for 8 hours! I think it must be a combination of grief and stress. I just hope I sleep well tonight.

Another baby's story

A friend of mine from high school sent me this video made by the sister of a friend. It tells the story of Malou Amelia, another baby who was born still. It is horribly sad, but for some reason it comforts me to see that there are other people out there who have gone through the same thing I have. If you do decide to watch it, know that there are lots of pictures of the baby. I know some people are uncomfortable with that. Click here to see the video.

Our anniversary

This year for our anniversary (Dec. 28) we have decided to take a week long trip to Costa Rica. This is exciting, right? Well, it definitely is, but it's also bittersweet. Every year Hunter and I take a big trip, but since Ada was due on November 5 we decided to take our trip early. Our trip out west over spring break was supposed to count as our anniversary trip.

When I was in the hospital, we watched a little bit of tv. We don't have cable so I never get to watch all those crazy cable shows, and I flipped through and saw some guy at the market in Santiago, Chile. (I studied abroad there for 4 months in college.) I was very excited, and as we watched the show a thought crossed my mind - maybe we could go to Chile for our anniversary this year since there won't be a baby. And as soon as I thought it, a huge wave of guilt washed over me. How could I even think about traveling while I'm in labor with my stillborn child?! I must be a horrible person! I would have given anything to get her back and I still would with no question - how could I care about a stupid trip?

A few days after I got home from the hospital, I started thinking about the idea of a trip again and I started feeling stabs of guilt again. But then Hunter and I realized that maybe planning a big trip wouldn't be a bad idea because it would give us something to look forward to. Besides, we plan to try again soon and this may end up being the last chance for a big international trip for a while.

Well, it turned out that Chile was out of our budget. I still plan to go back there someday, but I have always wanted to go to Costa Rica and so has Hunter. (I lived there for a year as a baby, but I don't remember a thing so I don't really count that.) So, we bought our plane tickets last weekend! I still sometimes feel a little guilty about it, but I truly do think that this is a good thing for us to do. It's the first thing I've felt excited about in a while.

Oh, and most of you know that Hunter and I normally take turns planning our trips as a surprise for each other and don't reveal the destination until Christmas - I guess that's just out the window this year! Still, this year was my turn to plan, and I am the one planning this trip. Maybe I'll throw a little surprise into the itenerary...

Thoughts I'm not proud of

Yesterday I went to Wal-Mart, and the very young cashier was very pregnant. This was one of many times since I lost Ada that I started to have thoughts that I wish I could stop. I won't go into all of them, but they basically involve me thinking that I'm better and more deserving than everybody else. After all, Hunter and I waited until we had been married for 5 years, we got 5 college degrees between the two of us, and we made good schools our number one priority when we bought our house last summer - who could be more deserving than us? At least, that's how it feels sometimes.

I am so thankful that God doesn't judge us that way! If he gave out grace on some kind of merit system, I certainly wouldn't get it. I wish that I could see people with God's eyes. I wish that I could always put others before myself. I wish that I could always accept others exactly the way they are rather than try to make them fit in to my understanding of how we should be.

Some pictures

Our big news!

Our first picture of Ada (8 weeks)

Ada and I at the Grand Canyon (10 weeks)

Ada's second ultrasound (18 weeks)

Look how big she was already! (19 weeks)

This is the quilt I made for Ada. I had the top finished before we lost her, but I put it all together a week or two later.

The first day of school

This last Monday was the first day of school for students. (It was also the last day of school - we've been out the rest of the week due to TS Fay and her aftermath. But I digress...) I knew it was going to be a little bit hard because we keep the same homeroom from year to year. All of those kids knew that I was pregnant when school got out, and I didn't know what to expect when they came to my class that day.

What I didn't expect, however, was for the drive to school to be hard. I had barely pulled out of our neighborhood when I saw all of these kids waiting for the bus. Now, I don't know where these kids came from because I never once saw them out there last year. But then again, I also didn't normally try to get to school 30 minutes early. Anyway, I saw this really cute little girl waiting for the bus with her mom. She was probably about 7 or 8 and she had long dark hair. She was wearing a dress and was holding her lunchbox - you could just tell she was so excited. This thought had never crossed my mind before, but I suddenly realized that Ada is never going to have a first day of school. I cried, and I called Hunter to cry, and then I was fine by the time I got to school. The whole thing was pretty quick, but that's how it is these days. Something completely unexpected will remind me of yet another memory that I don't get to make with Ada.

When my homeroom kids walked into class, one girl asked if I had found out if the baby was a boy or a girl. I told the whole class the very basics - she died, she was a girl, we named her Ada Elizabeth, and she was born about a month ago. These are 9th graders so they're around 14 or 15 years old. They're old enough to get it, but they're still at that age where they tend to be pretty focused on themselves or their friends. They were so sweet that morning though. I told them that if they wanted to come and talk to me that it was fine and they could ask me questions individually. And somewhere in there, my voice cracked like I was about to start crying. I didn't cry, but I think I was close. They all got very quiet and serious, and I was so mad at myself. I know it's okay to cry, but I really didn't want to do that in front of students! I didn't want them to tell other kids that I was crying in class, and I really didn't want teachers to think that I had lost it in front of students. As far as I know they didn't talk about it much after that, and none of them came to talk to me. Then we missed 4 days of school and they've probably forgotten about it by now!

A Prayer for Ada

This is the prayer that Courtney prayed at Ada's service.

Dearest God,

We hurt right now. We hurt because promises and hopes and dreams have all died with Ada. We hurt for what we planned on and now never will be. We hurt because this doesn’t make sense and it isn’t fair. At many funerals we get to tell funny stories and celebrate a life well lived. But Ada never had that chance and we never had the chance to make memories with her. And so we hurt. We need you to be with us, to hold us and to reassure us.

When people say, “It must have been God’s will” remind Hunter and Beth that death was never part of your will and that through Jesus Christ you have conquered death.

When people say, “God needed another angel in heaven” remind Hunter and Beth that you are just as present with them now as you will be in heaven. Ada did not die so that you could have another angel. Rather, as the Apostle Paul proclaimed “Whether we live or we die, we belong to the Lord” (Romans 14:8).

When people say, “You can have another child” remind Hunter and Beth that Ada is their eldest child and always will remain so. Then we pray, fill them with the hope even amidst their fears for the possibility of other children to fill their hearts and their lives.

When people say, “We can’t question God” remind Hunter and Beth of Job and the Psalmist and Jesus who cried out their honest questions to you in anger, hurt, and confusion. Give them the grace to offer to you their deepest hurts, even when they feel like blaming you for those hurts. And after they cry out to you, comfort them with your presence and your peace.

When people say, “time heals all wounds” remind Hunter and Beth that although there is truth in that proverb, it may not feel so when they are overwhelmed with grief. Reassure them that you promise to walk with us THROUGH the valley of the shadow of death, that you are with us in that dark valley.

I pray for Ada. We do not know what heaven is like. We especially do not know what heaven is like for infants. We trust you, however. We trust that whatever you have in store for Ada, it is good. We trust that although her death was not part of your will, her life with you in eternity is. We trust that part of your plan is that we will, one day, be able to make memories in heaven that we could not make here on earth. And so, this day, we long for heaven. We pray one of the oldest prayers of the church, “Even so, come Lord Jesus.”

I pray for Hunter and Beth. You promise us that “we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” Romans 8:28. I trust that this means that through your resurrection power, you can bring good out of all circumstances. This does not mean that we will ever be grateful for Ada’s death, but that we shall one day be so very grateful for her life and for the good which will come from it. I do not know what good might come from this, but I trust you do. I pray that even now, you are working to bring good out of tragedy and that Hunter and Beth will recognize that good when it comes.

I worry that in situations like this, the parents may feel as if they have done something wrong to cause this to happen. In our search for answers, we often blame ourselves. I pray that you will remove any feelings of guilt or shame Hunter and Beth may have.

I pray for Hunter and Beth when they cry and feel as if they will never be happy again and I pray for them when they laugh and have a stab of guilt because they feel it may be a betrayal of their grief. Help them to be honest with each other and you about how they are feeling. Help them to know you are with them, that you weep with them. Help them to laugh again.

I pray for this family. My prayer is first a prayer of thanksgiving. Thank you for letting me be a part of this family. I have been with them in both happy and sad times. I have ministered with and to them. They have ministered to me. You have given us to each other and for that I am so very, very thankful. I ask you to be with each member of this family – those in this room and those far away. Fill us with wisdom and strength and courage and compassion as we care for Hunter and Beth. Fill us with peace and hope as we grieve as well. This is hard on us all.

We commit Ada to your care this day. Comfort us in our sorrow, strengthen us with hope, and breathe peace into our troubled hearts. Assure us that the love in which we rejoiced for a time is not lost, and that Ada is with you, safe in your eternal embrace. We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, who took little children into his arms and blessed them. Amen.

Being happy for others

Yesterday Kevin and Kathy had their baby! It's a boy and his name is Eric James. The last couple of weeks of the pregnancy were a little scary, but everything turned out okay for them in the end. I am so happy for them. They also know what it's like to lose their first baby, so this gives me hope and I know that one day we too will have healthy children.

Even though I truly am happy for them, it was a reminder of my own reality yesterday. Hunter talked to Kevin and after he hung up, he told me how everything had gone. I had no idea this was coming, but I just burst into tears. While I am so glad that my friends have a healthy baby to hold, it made me think about my own labor and delivery. It just seems so unfair.

Our other good friends, Brian and Amy, had a healthy baby girl 4 months ago. They also had some pregnancy scares (seriously, when did having children become so scary?!) but they have such a beautiful little girl now. When I found out I was pregnant, I thought it was so cool that all three of us - Amy, Kathy, and myself - were all pregnant at the same time and would all be having babies in the same year. I imagined our kids playing together whenever we all get together. My sister-in-law also had a baby in March, my cousin had a baby in April, and a good friend at work is due in October. Two of my college roommates are expecting as well. I don't feel any jealousy towards any of them and in fact I am now more appreciative than ever when somebody has a healthy baby. But why can't I have that too? Why does it seem like everybody else's story has a happy ending but mine? I know there's really no answer to these questions and most of the time I'm okay, but sometimes it just makes me sad that we aren't having a baby too.

What not to say

I know that a lot of people are afraid to say anything to me because they don't want to make me upset or say anything that will offend me. But actually, nobody has said or done anything that made me mad. Even if I completely disagree with a statement, I realize that everyone is just trying to comfort me in their own way. I may even get a little upset inside by the comment, but I appreciate the fact that a friend is trying to help me through a difficult time. Anything is better than saying nothing.

When it comes to God, I have a very different outlook on his role in Ada's death than many other people seem to. I think part of the reason why the comments I hear don't bother me is that I was already comfortable enough with my understanding of God's Will before we lost Ada. I do not believe that her death was a part of God's Will. I do not believe that her death was "meant to be," or that it was a part of some bigger plan that I can't understand right now, that her soul was not right for me to raise as a parent (yes, I really was told that!), or that she is now an angel in heaven watching over me. In a sense I guess I believe that God "allowed" her death to happen, but I have trouble with that statement as well because it presents an image of God standing idly by. Instead, I believe that God's Will for Ada's life was for her to have a full and joyful life; His plans for her were probably similar to the plans that Hunter and I had as parents. So why did she die? When God created the earth He developed laws of nature, and one of them is that human beings need oxygen to survive. Apparently a blood clot cut off Ada's oxygen, and the laws of nature took their course. Do I believe that God could have stopped that from happening? I don't know, and I guess that is something I struggle with a little. But still, we live in a fallen world, and bad things happen. It doesn't mean that God wants for them to happen or plans these events! God is nothing but good, so all bad things are separate from Him. However, I fully believe that God can work good through all of the bad. I have already seen good coming out of Ada's life - if nothing else, Hunter and I are much closer today than we ever were before.

Another good thing that came from losing Ada is that I have a much greater understanding of how to act when people are grieving. Notice that I didn't say "what to say" but rather "how to act." Just listen to the person. Send a card. Bring food. Call them. Cry with them. Do something to show that you care and you know that they're hurting. Words really aren't that important. I have a giant stack of cards laying on Ada's dresser that came in the weeks following her death; in fact, we even got another one yesterday. Those mean so much to me because they show that so many people were touched by Ada's life and are thinking about us.

Most of my understanding of God's Will comes from the book The Will of God by Leslie Weatherhead. I highly recommend it.

The Autopsy

We had an autopsy done on Ada so we could try to understand what happened and prevent anything like this from happening again. The doctor had the results at my two week checkup and I was terrified the day before we went in. I was so afraid she was going to tell me that I had done something that caused Ada's death, or that it was something that would happen with any future children as well. Anyway, I think we got the best news possible. Ada died from anoxia, which basically means that her oxygen supply was cut off slowly. She probably just fell asleep. What caused that is not crystal clear, but the doctor is pretty sure that there was a blood clot in the placenta. They tested my blood for a condition that causes clotting and for several infections, but they all came back negative. (In fact, I am even immune to one of the infections they tested for - at least I have something going for me!) So, this turned out to be the best news possible: it was a one time thing and should never happen again. And, it was not my fault. That's not to say I haven't gone back time and time again and thought through all of the things that I might have done... But logically, I know it wasn't me.

Ada's Sunrise

There is a story behind the picture at the top of this page. About 2 weeks after Ada was born, Hunter and I scattered her ashes on the beach at sunrise. We sat on the beach for a while watching the sky get brighter and the sun get higher. We talked about the things that made us sad - I remember saying that I could imagine her as a little girl, playing in the waves. We had already had a service for her, but I felt like we should do something before scattering her ashes so we read Psalm 139. It's a very familiar Psalm that I'm sure most people have heard, and it's the only one I could think of to read. I had not even thought ahead of time about the imagery in the Psalm - it talks about the ocean and the sand. Anyway, here it is again:

O LORD, you have searched me
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you know it completely, O LORD.
You hem me in—behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake,
I am still with you.

I started to read the scripture, but I couldn't even get through the first line so Hunter had to read it instead. Then, we walked out into the water and we each had a tiny handful of ashes. We scattered them into the ocean at the same time, just as the water was receding.

If you know me at all, you know that I LOVE to travel. One of the things that has saddened me since we lost Ada is the thought that I will never be able to take her to new places and travel with her all over the world. Well, after we scattered her ashes, Hunter turned to me and said that Ada will now get to travel more than he or I ever will. That thought really comforts me.

The sunrise that morning was the most beautiful one that I have ever seen.

How it all began

I found out that I was pregnant on March 5, 2008. I immediately started crying, which really surprised me, and I remember the huge smile on Hunter's face. We decided to wait a while before telling our family. None of them had any idea that we had even been trying, and we were both so afraid that something bad would happen during the pregnancy. In the meantime, it was pretty fun having a secret for just us. We talked a lot about Ada's future, what to name her, what to do with the nursery, etc. It really was a fun time. Over my spring break we took a big trip out west. We put over 2,500 miles on the rental car and visited 6 national parks and drove through 6 states. We made sure to get a picture of the baby at each location.

Finally, on Mother's Day weekend we surprised both of our moms (and the rest of our family) with a picture from Ada's first ultrasound. That weekend was so much fun. A few weeks later, on June 9, we had our big ultrasound. We were both so worried, but it turned out that our fears were unfounded because everything looked great and Ada was perfectly healthy. She was stubborn though, and wouldn't let us see that she was a girl! The ultrasound was pretty cool though, and we both enjoyed watching her move around and kick.

Around the same time, I had a blood test done. A week or two later my doctor called me to tell me that the screening had come back with an elevated risk of Down Syndrome. The next few days were horrible. I knew the tests gave LOTS of false positives, but what if I wasn't one of them?? Again though, we were worried for nothing. I got a call the next day that my test may have been miscalculated, and finally, nearly a week after the initial call, it was confirmed that that was the case and the baby was fine. Whew.

On June 20, I felt the baby kick for the first time! I was so excited! Later, I would keep putting Hunter's hand on my stomach and trying to help him feel the baby kick. He started to talk to her and tell her to kick - and she did! Every time he would put his face close to her and talk, she kicked!

On July 3 I had another doctor's appointment. Hunter went with me and our doctor graciously agreed to do an ultrasound there in her office to see if we could find out the gender of the baby. It was a girl! Hunter said that he figured he was outnumbered anyway (both of the cats are female), which I thought was pretty funny. Later that day we named her Ada Elizabeth and we had fun telling everybody that we were expecting a girl.

About a week or two later, I noticed that I hadn't been feeling Ada kick much. Every once in a while I would think that I felt something, but I was never convinced it wasn't just my stomach. So, on July 14, we called the doctor. The nurse told me to drink juice, lie really still, and that I should feel 10 movements within the hour. I felt nothing. She told me to repeat it for a second hour, and I thought maybe I felt something, but it certainly wasn't 10 movements. We went in for an ultrasound and I will never forget the technician's expression when she told me that she couldn't find the heartbeat. Up until that moment, I think I had been in denial. After all, we had been worried before and it always turned out to be for nothing. I was sure there was some good explanation for why I hadn't felt her. The ultrasound dated her death sometime around July 6 or 7 - just a few days after we had watched her heart beating on the screen and named her Ada.

The next few hours were a blur. I remember calling my mom and begging her to come. I remember going to my doctor and talking about what would happen next. I remember her telling us that we needed to make plans with a funeral home. I remember calling a couple of friends and being amazed at how calm I sounded on the phone. I remember my brother and sister-in-law bringing dinner over and nobody knew how to pray the blessing that night.

The next morning Hunter and I were about to go to the hospital - I was supposed to get there at 8:00. Throughout the pregnancy I had been writing some letters to Ada, and this is an excerpt from the one I wrote that morning. I couldn't even see the screen as I typed through my tears.

I had been thinking I needed to write in here about the day we found out you're a girl (July 3). We had our big ultrasound on June 9 but you didn't cooperate for that. Then on July 3 we went back to my doctor and she told us we're having a girl! I couldn't have been more excited, and Hunter was too. We named you later that day. You also started to move around this time and you would move every time your dad talked to you.

I had planned to tell you all of these things over and over as you grew up....any time you were stubborn, I was going to tease you that it started before birth. I was going to tell you that you had obviously always loved your dad.

On July 14, we went to the doctor because I hadn't been able to feel you move. The ultrasound technician said the worst thing that I ever could have heard...that she couldn't find your heartbeat. My world came crashing down. I couldn't think straight. Now here it is, less than 24 hours later, and my mind is still a blur. I've been through so much in the last day. Sometime later when my head is clearer I might write more about it.

For now though, I am just grieving the loss of my little girl. I will never be able to tell you all the things that I wanted to say. I will never get to know your personality. I won't get to know what you would have looked like when you were born, or started kindergarten, or on your wedding day. It breaks my heart.

Ada Elizabeth, you were loved long ago - and not just by me. You were surrounded by family and friends who loved you and so wanted to meet you. Your dad especially loved you. We're all grieving now.

So, we went to the hospital later that morning and I was induced with cytotec at 9:00. Getting those pills was definitely the most physically painful thing I had to go through - and I ended up having to get them 7 times over the next couple of days. Anyway, nothing much happened the first day. The nurses would come in and check on my contraction monitor because nothing was happening, and that was about it. I remember crying with Hunter several times and saying that this is not how labor is supposed to be. It was my first time delivering a baby and I was devastated rather than excited. That night I started getting a high fever from the medicine, and everything after that really is a blur to me. I would be miserably hot and putting ice all over my face, then freezing cold with 2 blankets out of the warmer on top of me and the thermostat turned up to 80. It was awful.

Finally, on the second day in the hospital, I started to dilate. It started getting pretty painful after lunch (not that I ate anything all day) and they gave me an epidural. Before having a baby, I thought the painful part of delivery was pushing the baby out. That may be the case too (I wouldn't know since Ada was so small and I was completely numbed), but the contractions are painful no matter how big the baby is! Anyway, she was finally born at 5:18 pm on July 16. Everything went just as it should have and there were no complications.

After the doctor and nurses had finished up with me, most of them left the room. One nurse brought the baby over to us and put her in my arms. We had brought a little pink blanket that my mom gave her and she was wrapped in it. (On one of my really bad days since losing her, I slept with that blanket.) She was tiny at 1 lb, 10 oz, but actually bigger than I had imagined. I was sort of afraid of what she might look like, but she actually looked just like a tiny baby. You could tell she wasn't quite ready to be born, but her fingers and toes were perfect and she had the sweetest little face. Hunter and I both decided that she looked like him. We both held her, talked to her, and told her goodbye. It was very sad to let her go.

First Post

Since I lost Ada, I have been spending a lot of time on a message board for women who have had similar losses. It has been so helpful to me because I feel like I have a group of people to "listen" to me who know what I have been going through. Anyway, one of the things that a lot of them do that seems to help is to keep a blog about their experiences. So, I decided to give this a try. I feel like, for one thing, it will help those who care about me and want to know how I'm doing. Also, sometimes I just want to tell everybody about Ada...I hate the fact that it seems to be taboo to talk about her. So, even if nobody reads this, at least I will feel like I am telling the world about my baby. Most of the other people who blog started when they first lost the baby, so I feel like I have a lot of catching up to do!

Last Saturday made it one month since Ada was born. I really have been getting better over the last few weeks, and my good or okay days have started to outnumber the bad. Last Friday night I thought I was fine and I went in Ada's room. I go in there every day or two - it just helps me to remember her. The room isn't finished. The painting that we ordered two days before we found out she was gone is sitting on the floor. The crib is put together but it doesn't have a mattress or any kind of bedding. There are a bunch of stuffed animals that I had gathered to put on a shelf, but there is no shelf yet. There are clothes hanging in the closet for her, but they all still have the tags on them. Anyway, sometimes when I go in there I smile and think about how much I enjoyed the few months I had her. Other times though, I cry. Last Friday night, I wept. I looked in her baby book where I had been writing the night before we found out. There's a blank page in there about bringing her home from the hospital and that was just so difficult to look at. I never dreamed I would be bringing home her ashes. There's a tiny little outfit in the closet that I had imagined her wearing on the day she came home. Anyway, it was so strange how that night I was just led to go in there. I wasn't even feeling sad; I just knew that I needed to go in her room. I guess it had been building up for a while.

And then there's her picture... Hunter and I took the camera with us to the hospital, but we chose not to take any pictures of her. It's a decision I regret now, but there's nothing I can do. The hospital took a picture of her though, and we got it about 3 weeks after she was born. Her hands are so cute in it, but overall she doesn't look as good as when we first held her. Still, I treasure that picture and I go look at it every couple of days. I just never want to forget what my daughter looked like. It's sad to me though, that it's a picture that probably nobody will ever want to see. I'm not saying that I expect people to want to see it - it is a little disturbing - but it's the whole situation that makes me so sad. I wish that everybody could see her the way I did when I first held her...she was so perfect.

Going back to school last Monday was hard - it was a lot harder than I had expected, actually. I had really been looking forward to it because I thought it would give my life a sense of normalcy and that I could just pour myself into teaching to keep myself busy. Well, it's not really working. I get distracted easily and I don't have the motivation that I thought I would. I think I'm doing an adequate job, but I wanted to be "Super Teacher" this year. Of course, I haven't had much of a chance yet since we only had one day of school before getting all of these days off for Tropical Storm Fay. The other hard part was seeing people. The thing that I feared most did happen - another teacher came up to me and said "How is the baby doing?!" Obviously, she didn't know, and I guess my loose fitting shirt didn't really help. But actually, that wasn't so bad. What was bad was when I knew that most people knew that I had "lost the baby" and felt badly for me, but didn't really know what happened. I knew they were all thinking that I had just had a miscarriage. I just wanted to yell to all of them that it was NOT just a miscarriage! I HELD MY BABY! I was in labor for 32 hours! (And contractions are contractions, no matter how big the baby is!) I named her! We buried her! But of course, I didn't do that. :) Instead, I wrote an email telling them the basics of what happened and that I just wanted them all to know because I NEEDED for them to know. It was received very well and I am grateful for the responses I got. I work with some wonderful people.

Well, these are the main things I can think of right now. I'm sure I'll come up with more soon.