Memories

I am at the hospital, waiting to deliver your baby brother tomorrow.  Everything is going very well, but being here brings back so many memories.  For the most part it's actually a positive experience for me - after all, this was the only place where I got to see and hold my beautiful, first born baby girl.  I have been looking forward to coming back to the same place where I got to meet you.  I feel a connection to you here, and I appreciate that the nurses remember me (and of course I remember them) from your birth.  At the same time, it is so sad to be here and to remember all that your dad and I went through.  

As we rode up to the L&D floor in the elevator today, I remembered my first ride in that elevator.  That day I stared at my feet the entire time, and the entire time we walked down the hallway.  I didn't want to see any balloons or flower arrangements or any signs of happy healthy babies.  (Of course I want people to have healthy babies; I just didn't want the reminders that they were being born around me.)  I walked into the delivery room and saw the warmer that you would never need and I just completely lost it.  I'll never forget that.

Tonight I am laying in a bed in the room next door to where you were born; in fact, it's the same room where your sister was born.  I remember when I was lying in your room I could hear a baby's heartbeat from a monitor in the room next door...and now, I'm listening to Arthur's heartbeat on a monitor in the room next door to your room.  

I'm so thankful for the healthy baby boy that I'm about to meet, and I'm very excited.  At the same time, I want you to know that I still cry for you and you are still so special to me.  I still love you so much, sweet Ada.  

3 years

Yesterday was Ada's third birthday - I can't believe it has been 3 years since I last held her.  Of course, we went to her beach at sunrise as usual to remember her on her birthday.

The day really wasn't hard at all.  In some ways that makes me sad, because it feels like I must love her less somehow.  I know that's not true though; it's just how grief is over time.  Eventually you get used to it and you can remember the person fondly without feeling much pain.  We enjoyed our time at the beach remembering her.

Another sibling

Dear Ada,

You are going to be a big sister - again!  I will be 18 weeks pregnant tomorrow and your little brother (well, we're pretty sure it's a brother) is due at the beginning of October.

I started to write this letter to you months ago, but I never finished the post.  I just realized that I have so many things I want to say, that I got overwhelmed and didn't even know where to begin.  So here's a second attempt.

I still miss you deeply.

I still love you deeply.

I still think of you all the time.

I love being pregnant, because it's the one time I can compare all 3 of my babies.  I can think about when I first felt you, when I first felt Eleanor, and when I first felt this baby.  I can put on a maternity shirt and think, "I wore this with all 3 of my babies."  When this baby is born he will share lots of things with Eleanor, but this is the one time in his life that he can share things with both of his sisters.  It might seem silly to others that I think about my children sharing my maternity clothes, but it's all I have.

I think about how lucky I am to have each of my babies.  You all teach me so much.

Today I took Eleanor to story time at the library.  The librarian acted out a story about a mother holding a little boy (well, a puppet in her case) in her lap.  The boy keeps getting all of his toys and adding them to his mother's lap, and then eventually his baby sister cries and the mama has to hold her too.  The boy is upset because he thinks there won't be any more room for him, but the story ended with something along the lines of, "That's the amazing thing about mother's laps - there's always room for one more."  I got teary eyed, maybe partly from pregnancy hormones, because I thought about how much I wish I could have one more baby in my lap.  I miss you, sweet girl.

Love,

Your mama

My fall baby

Tonight I looked at pictures of a friend's kid's birthday party.  Everything looked amazing and they had a really cute fall theme with pumpkins everywhere.  I had the silly thought, "Oh, I hope that one day we'll have a kid with a fall birthday because there's so much fun stuff in the fall!"  I love my own fall birthday, after all.

But wait!  I was supposed to have a fall baby.  Ada's due date was November 5, which is slowly creeping up on me.  She would be 2 this year just like the boy celebrating his birthday at this party.

My baby, my firstborn, should be 2.  All I have instead are lots of tears and an empty hole in my heart that nobody else will ever fill.  Eleanor has certainly healed the rawness of the hole - she is WONDERFUL and seriously amazes me every day - but there will always be a missing piece.

I miss you, Ada Elizabeth.

P.S. You have a brand new cousin who was born yesterday.  Her middle name is Elizabeth, too.  :)

My birthday

Today is my birthday and it has been a wonderful day.  We are on vacation in Puerto Rico and we went to a museum, drove along the coast, and explored some seaside cliffs and a cave.  We had about an hour drive back to our place in San Juan tonight.  It was dark, Eleanor was falling asleep to lullabies playing on my ipod, and there was a huge, beautiful full moon overhead.  (You know how the moon can be really big when it's first rising.)  The song "Somewhere Out There" came on (I wrote about it before) and I suddenly realized the one thing that was missing on this wonderful birthday.

My Ada.

This realization wasn't terribly hard and it didn't make me cry or anything, but it was just a sad moment.  I miss Ada and I just wish she could have been here to enjoy such a wonderful day with her father, her sister, and me.  She is a part of this family too. 

I miss you

My friend Stephanie, Malou's mama, writes her posts so beautifully and poetically. Somehow this post just wrote itself that way as well.  I hope she doesn't mind that I borrowed her style.  After all, imitation is the highest form of flattery.  ;)

Dear Ada,

I think of you every day.
There are so many reminders!

I remember you every time I see a butterfly go past.

Butterflies are a symbol of pregnancy loss
because they come into our lives
with all of their fragile beauty
and stay for such a brief period of time.

I see butterflies every day,
sometimes several times a day!
Your little sister
(who is growing to be quite big, by the way)
always notices them.
She also loves to point out the butterflies on her clothes
and on her car seat.
It makes me smile to see her get excited
over these beautiful creatures.

Butterflies often visit us
while she's swinging in the back yard.
I like to think that,
in a way,
you're out there with us too
enjoying the beautiful day.

I remember you when people see your sister and ask,
"Is she your first?"
I usually lie and say yes.
I feel guilty inside,
but I do it to avoid the awkward questions
and the uncomfortable looks.
And I think that deep down
I'm afraid
they don't think you should "count'.
But while I know that Eleanor may be my oldest,
she is not my first born.
The other day I was brave and told the truth
- that I have two daughters -
to some women I barely know.
It sounded easy to say in my head,
but it wasn't.
I cried.
A lot.
And I couldn't stop.
I think it had been too long since I had let myself cry.
This is why I don't usually tell the truth.

I remember you
when friends and family members remember you.
One friend asked me,
"Have you thought about having a third?"
I'm not used to hearing that!

Another friend mentioned that,
out of a group of us,
5 babies had been born or were on the way.
I counted the babies up several times,
but I kept coming up short.
Then I realized my friend actually included you!

I love it when others remember you too.
It's nice to know that I'm not the only one
besides your father
who was touched by your brief little life.

I remember you at silly times too.
Like when I go to the dentist.
ADA is written all over the place!
It stands for the American Dental Association, you know.

I love you, sweet girl.
I may not write on here often anymore.
I may not cry often anymore.
It may seem on the outside like life has gone on.
But that's not true.
Your beautiful
fragile
sweet little life
has changed me forever.

I miss you,
Ada Elizabeth.

Video about stillbirth

This simple little video addresses some of the crazy things that people say to you after losing a child. My favorite part is the response to "God just needed another angel in heaven."

(Warning: there is one bad word. You might not want to play this with kids in the room.)

Happy 2nd birthday, Ada

Today is Ada's 2nd birthday.  I can't believe it has been 2 years since I last saw or held my baby girl.  To remember her this morning, we visited the same beach at sunrise where her ashes were scattered.

Constant reminders

The other day I was talking to a friend who was telling me a story about a friend of hers with a kid.  I said, "How old is the girl?"  She replied, "Um, I think she'll be 2 in November."  That's how old Ada should have been.

When I was pregnant with Ada, I used to always see my pregnant neighbor out walking when I was on my way to work.  She was a few months ahead of me.  I didn't see her for about a week, and then suddenly she was pushing a tiny little baby in a pink stroller.  Today was the first time I've seen her since then, and she was pushing a 2-year-old little girl in a stroller.  That kid seemed huge!  I am a complete stranger to this neighbor, so she has no idea that the very sight of her child brings tears to my eyes.

I wonder if it's hard for some stranger to see Eleanor?  Am I that mom with a baby to somebody else?

Ada's birthday is 2 weeks from today. I love my baby that I get to hold every day, but I still miss her sister.

This is Eleanor checking out her sister's footprints.

And here's a picture of my growing girl!

A video tribute

I have been thinking about Ada a lot for the past few days and really missing her.  This seems to happen every month or two, and I'm actually kind of glad.  It lets me know that I haven't forgotten her, but at the same time I'm not incapacitated by my grief.  I listen to songs that remind me of her, talk to Hunter about her, and enjoy the baby that I do have more than anything.  I don't take her life for granted.

Eleanor's first birthday is coming up (as is Ada's second) and I have been working on making a video of her first year.  I discovered Windows Movie Maker and I've been having so much fun with it!  Yesterday I decided to use my new skills to make a video about Ada's life.  I tried to keep it brief because nobody wants to watch your 20 minute video, but also, this was pretty much all the material I had to work with.  I've been working hard to keep Eleanor's under 10 minutes, and I have HUNDREDS of pictures and videos to choose from.  Ada's has been much faster to make because there are so few pictures from that time.  There was no selection process involved.  (I made sure I took WAY more pictures when I was pregnant with Eleanor!)

So here it is:   Ada's life in 3 1/2 minutes.  I should add that my husband is weird about having his picture online so he made me crop him out of some pictures.  He really does exist, I promise!  :)

I still miss her

It's been nearly two years, and I have a beautiful baby that I get to hold and play with every day, but I still miss Ada.  I still cry for her.  I still mourn her.  I still think about her almost every day.

My life has certainly moved past where I was during those dark months after her death, and I am very happy these days.  (Besides the fact that I have mono and I'm trying to care for a 9-month-old...but that's another story!)  I love being a stay at home mom and raising Eleanor, but there's no amount of joy that Eleanor can bring to my life that can erase what we went through in July 2008.  Sometimes I feel like I have post traumatic stress disorder because I occasionally have flashbacks to that horrible ultrasound and every detail of the days the followed.  This usually happens at night when I'm trying to fall asleep or when I'm in the car alone.  Usually when this happens I just pause and think about Ada for a few minutes, but every once in a while it hits really hard and I weep for my baby.

I have a friend whose daughter is about a month younger than Ada should have been.  I see new pictures of her fairly often and I usually don't even think about Ada, but recently she posted one that was so cute and it just hit me:  I should have a toddler like that.  What would Ada look like at this point?  What would her smile look like?  What would she be able to say?  What things would she be scared of?  What would be her favorite toys and games?  I don't know, and I never will know.  It just hurts me that I can't have both of my girls.  I love them both.

On a side note, I have to add that the book that I wrote about in this post is probably Eleanor's favorite book.  She loves turning the pages while one of us reads it to her and she'll read it over and over again.  She also loves this book that Ada "gave" Hunter for Father's Day when I was 4 months pregnant.  She won't sit there for every book she has, but these 2 are winners.  Eleanor has good taste!  :)

Also, here are a few recent pictures of Ada's little sister...

After losing a baby

Over the past couple of years, quite a few people have asked me for advice on what to do or say when somebody they know experiences a miscarriage or stillbirth.  I figured I may as well write it all down in one place.  If you have anything to add to this list, comment away!  If you feel like this is helpful and you want to pass it on to somebody, feel free.

Do:

• Realize that this loss is painful, whether the pregnancy was 6 weeks or 36 weeks along.  Obviously there is a difference between those two, but a loss is a loss at any time.  
• Keep in mind that you might not be aware of circumstances surrounding this loss, like if the mother had previous miscarriages or if it took a long time to conceive.
• Send a card, even if you live nearby.  You can just say, "I'm thinking about you" or "I'm so sorry for your loss" if you don't know what else to say.  I might be weird, but what I appreciated hearing more than anything was that a friend cried upon hearing my news.  It made me realize that the person cared and was sharing my grief with me.  Also, a card in the mail is much more meaningful than an email or a message on Facebook (not that those are bad).
• Send another card a few weeks later.  That's when life starts returning to normal and the mother may feel forgotten.
• Offer to do something specific and helpful.  If the person has kids, offer to watch the kids for a few hours so the mom or both parents can have some time alone.  Take them a meal.  Be specific in your approach (i.e. "Can I bring you dinner on Tuesday night?") and don't just say, "Let me know if there's anything I can do."  You might genuinely mean that, but the grieving parent might be afraid to take you up on it or be too overwhelmed to even realize what they need.
• If the baby had a name, use it.  It's not a bad word.  In fact, it's quite the opposite.
• Listen.  I think every mom who's experienced a loss is different in how much they want to talk about everything, but listen as much as they are willing to talk.  I personally really felt the need to retell my experience; I needed people to know that I was in labor with my daughter for 32 hours and my husband and I held her.  She was a real person. Every time I would tell her story, it helped me feel connected with Ada and, especially in those early days, it helped reality to sink in.  That's an important part of the healing process.
• Acknowledge important dates:  the baby's due date, the first anniversary of the loss (especially if it was later in the pregnancy and/or if the mom is not pregnant again), and Mother's Day.  All you need to do is say, "I'm thinking about your baby today."  If you don't know when the due date was, it's not inappropriate to ask, "I was thinking about your baby.  When was your due date again?"
• One really nice thing you could do is to give the mom a copy of Empty Cradle, Broken Heart.  This is such a wonderful book and I highly recommend it.

Don't:

•  Say any of the following:  "It was for the best."  "God has a plan."  "Everything happens for a reason."  "God wanted another angel in heaven."  "God has another flower in his garden."  "It just wasn't meant to be."  "Your baby is in a better place now."  Even if you believe it, these comments are not helpful or comforting in any way.  To a grieving mother, the only place where her child should be is in her arms.  Alive.
• Ignore the situation completely.  I have a couple of friends who have never, ever acknowledged Ada's death.  That hurt much more than an insensitive comment from a well-meaning friend.
• Be afraid to bring up the baby in conversation.  I think people are afraid to mention it because they don't know if the mother has maybe forgotten about the loss and moved on, but I promise you, that does not happen!
• Assume that the mom should be "over it" within what you perceive as a reasonable time frame.  You do not know what it is like to walk in her shoes.
• Assume that everything is happy and right with the world if the mom gets pregnant again.  Yes, she is probably very happy, but she's feeling many new emotions that she didn't have during her last pregnancy (fear, guilt, anxiety, etc.).  Also, this does not mean that she has forgotten about the baby that she lost.  Years from now she will still miss that baby.  Mothers have an amazing ability to love all of their children.

A special gift

This post isn't really about Ada, but I thought it was an appropriate story to share here...

I have a friend from college, Shelley, who had a beautiful little girl named Elliana.  Elliana was born just a couple of weeks after Ada and she lived for just under a month.  She had Trisomy 13.

This past weekend Shelley and I saw each other at our friend Emily's baby shower. It was the first time we have seen each other since I was pregnant with Ada and she was pregnant with Elliana.   Sadly I didn't even think to get a picture of us together, but here is a picture of Shelley, her oldest daughter, Carson, Emily, and Shelley's new little rainbow baby, Isaac.

Eleanor and I were also at the shower - Eleanor was pretty tired by this point!

At the shower, Shelley handed me a gift for Eleanor that was wrapped up so beautifully. I felt bad because I hadn't even thought to bring something for her baby. I didn't open the gift until later, but when I did, I cried. In the card she explained to Eleanor that this doll was given to Elliana when she was born and that Elliana had never gotten to play with it. She thought that Eleanor was the perfect girl to get to play with this doll. This is a very special gift, and Eleanor has enjoyed playing with her already. As she grows older, I will be sure to tell her about what a special girl Elliana was.

Bitterness

A couple of things today have left me feeling a bit bitter.  I know they probably shouldn't, but I can't help it.

Tonight I heard a girl sharing her testimony.  She talked about how she did drugs, drank alcohol, and had an abortion when she was 16.  Years later, as she put it, God forgave her and blessed her when she and her husband conceived twins on their honeymoon.

I don't mean to belittle her story in any way, because she was such a sweet person and she truly has had a tough life.  I appreciated her honesty.  But I can't help but think, what about all of the women who can't conceive a child?  Or have held their dead baby in their arms?  What about my friend who is an amazing person and is just devastated after 3 miscarriages and 1 stillbirth and still no healthy child?  Is God not "blessing" her?  What did SHE do wrong?  (please note the sarcasm)

Then tonight I saw on Facebook that a friend of mine got to hear her baby's heartbeat for the first time today.  I'm very happy and excited for her - I know how wonderful that sound is!  She posted these verses from Psalm 139:

For You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, and my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from You, when I was made in secret, and skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth; Your eyes have seen my unformed substance; and in Your book were all written the days that were ordained for me, when as yet there was not one of them.

 I remember thinking of those verses when I was pregnant with Ada.   I was as excited and happy as my friend is.  I also remember hearing my husband's broken, tearful voice reading them out loud - I was too upset to speak - when we scattered her ashes over a year and a half ago.  I am happy for my friend, but I guess I'm jealous of her happiness and ignorance.  It really is bliss.

Thank you, Ada

I've been meaning to post on here for a while, but it's been hard to find the time.  I still think about Ada a lot these days, and I realize that I am still grieving for her.  My life is generally happy, yes, and Eleanor is absolutely wonderful, but there are times when I still think of my sweet Ada and I miss her so much.  She was conceived 2 years ago this week.

A friend of mine just lost her 4th pregnancy. She and her husband have a 50/50 chance of conceiving a healthy child for genetic reasons, and they are 0 for 4 so far. Three of those pregnancies ended in a miscarriage, but the third one made it to 23 weeks. I just cannot imagine what she is going through. I can't imagine facing the decision: do we try again and risk even more heartbreak for the possibility of having a healthy baby? (Yes, in vitro is an option, but it's around $20,000 and there are no guarantees.)  Last night I listened to my friend for a long time. I didn't tell her what to do, or that everything is going to be okay. I just listened, because I remember that that's what I needed most after Ada died. Ada's little life taught me how to be a more thoughtful person.

I was reminded of that again today. My sister called me to tell me the horrible news that one of her friends lost her 8-year-old daughter in an accident last night. Her family was on their way home from an Ash Wednesday service and she was in the car with her 3 older siblings and their dad when they hit a deer. The deer came through the windshield and hit and killed her, but the rest of the family is fine. The mom was still at the church at a meeting - she is the pastor.

How on earth do you cope with this kind of pain? I sent them a sympathy card basically to say, "I am sad with you." That's what people really want to hear when they're grieving. Yet another lesson I learned from Ada's life.

I miss Ada and sometimes when I'm playing with my sweet, smiley Eleanor I wonder what Ada would have been like as a 6-month-old. (After all, how can I not be constantly reminded of her when I'm STILL getting things in the mail for my toddler between the ages of 12 months and 3 years??) But then things like this happen, and I realize that at least some good has come out of Ada's death. It taught me to be a better person. She continues to teach me every day, and I'm thankful to my sweet firstborn baby girl for that.

Haiti

The news from Haiti has hit me really hard, especially the stories of parents losing their children. Here's a touching post that really got to me. It's just devastating.

And what about the children who survived the quake? How are they going to live through the next few months? How are they even going to live through the next 48 hours? I watched one story on CNN yesterday about a 15-day-old baby with a head laceration. She's going to be okay, but she needs antibiotics. Do they even have enough medicine for these kinds of things? Also, her mother was killed in the earthquake. I have no idea if she was breastfed, but how are they going to feed this baby now? How will they get formula and clean water to mix it with? I'm just hoping the family can find another nursing mother who can feed the baby. Of course, that woman would need food and water as well. I wish I could send milk to this baby.

I've heard that all organizations really want right now is money, so here are some links to sites where you can give donations. All of these charities are ranked with 4 stars by Charity Navigator, meaning they all manage their money well. If everybody gave even just $10 to help the relief effort, it would be huge.

American Red Cross
World Vision International
Save the Children
Habitat for Humanity

Packing it up

Yesterday I packed up some of Eleanor's clothes that she's outgrown. She's only 5 1/2 months, but she's tall and she's getting into 6-9 month clothes. I had several outfits for Ada that were size 6 months, and Eleanor was able to wear them. It never made me sad for her to wear them; instead, I guess I felt like at least I had something of Ada's to pass on. Well, Eleanor has now outgrown all of the things I had for Ada. It was really hard for me to put those clothes away, I guess because Eleanor will never have any other hand-me-downs from her big sister. When I was pregnant with Ada, 6 month size clothes seemed so big! Now Eleanor is past that point, and little tiny Ada never got to be big enough to wear them.

Christmas at the beach

Today we took Eleanor on her first trip to the beach. We went to the same beach where we spread Ada's ashes nearly a year and a half ago. Has it really been that long?

As we walked along, Hunter smiled and said he can just imagine Eleanor running by the waves and picking up shells in a year or so. That image makes me so happy, but so sad at the same time. When we were spreading Ada's ashes I thought about exactly that - how I would MISS seeing her do all of those things at the beach. As I watch Eleanor grow and develop a little personality, I realize how much I don't know about Ada. I don't know what she would have looked or acted like. I just wish I could have had more time.

Here are a few pictures from our trip today.

Ada's book

When I was 10 weeks pregnant with Ada, Hunter and I took a big trip out west. We were in the gift shop at the Petrified Forest National Park when I saw this book and I knew we had to get it. We had already decided that the theme for her nursery would be animals of the world, and this was a perfect addition. It has wonderful labeled drawings of LOTS of different desert animals, and rhyming phrases that say what they do. ("I sting", "I sing")

This book was the first purchase we made together for Ada, and Hunter read it to her very often. We always laughed at the picture of some sort of deer kicking and saying, "I kick" because it reminded us of Ada and how she would kick.

After Ada died, Hunter kept it by his bed and read it many times, always with tears. I contemplated putting it in Ada's box, but we decided that it is too good of a book and we wanted all of our kids to get to read it. Since Eleanor has been born I haven't been able to bring myself to pick up that book - it was just too hard. Yesterday though, Hunter and I were together with Eleanor and I went to pick out a book for her. I decided that it was a good time since we were all here, so I picked up I Howl, I Growl. Hunter read it to her and we both cried as he read it. That was really hard for both of us - probably the saddest we have been since Eleanor was born. It's amazing how a silly little book can remind you of all of the joy and excitement that you once had... and then lost.

Ada on my mind

Ada's been on my mind a lot the past few days. I don't know if it's the approach of the holidays or what, but it seems like there are little reminders all the time. Last night for whatever reason, I started thinking about her as I was lying in bed and trying to fall asleep. I never really think about this, but I started remembering her ashes and what they felt like in my hand. For those of you who have never seen a person's ashes, it's not exactly what you might expect. There's ash, but there are also little bits of bone mixed in. Yeah, I know it's gross, but it's reality. So last night all I could think about were those little bits of bone. I get to look at Eleanor every day and watch her grow up (and boy does she grow fast!), but with Ada the last memory I have of her is feeling those little pieces in my hand and then letting them go into the ocean. I know it's macabre and like I said I really never think about that part, but for some reason it was on my mind last night.

Then today I was at MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) and we've been watching this video series about adjusting to life as a mom. The videos are actually really interesting and the stories bring up some good points. In the story today though, the woman kept mentioning something about her child being her "first". She must have said that word 10 times. I almost had to get up and go to the bathroom because I was afraid I was going to start crying right then and people would think I was crazy because the story itself wasn't sad at all.

I will always call Eleanor my oldest, but I will never say that she's my first. I held the ashes of my first child and let her go. I wonder what part of the world she's visiting today. :)