Giveaway Winner!

I know I said I would post the winner last night, and I had every intention of doing so.  And to be honest, I guess I just kind of flaked out!  SORRY! 

But the winner is Rhiannon!  CONGRATULATIONS!!!!  

6 Months

This is a day that I don’t think I even knew I was dreading.  I hadn’t really given this new anniversary much thought.  Then suddenly, it hit me.  6 months.  Six months.  About 180 days.  It’s hard enough to pass an anniversary; one thing that’s kind of made it slightly more difficult for me is that this one just happens to be the date and the day.  Caroline passed away late in the evening of October 19^th, a Tuesday.  We rushed to the hospital, they confirmed our worst nightmares, and induced me early on Wednesday, October 20.  I labored through the day, and had her at 7:27 pm.  I met my beautiful little girl, and I was never more in love, never more proud, never more broken.  And that brokenness has stayed around.  I am still broken.  I am still breaking. 

As I’m sure it happens with anyone else who has ever experienced a loss, it comes in waves.  There are good days and bad days.  There are happier days and sadder days.  And, I’ll be honest; I haven’t learned how to ride the waves very efficiently yet.  I’m still wiped out on the sad days.  And my happy days have shades of sadness to them.  But at least there are happy days.  When I had to say goodbye to that precious girl, I truly didn’t believe that there could be any happiness – ever again. 

We are learning to live again.  I think this is going to be a process that takes us a very long time.  But we’re so hopeful for the future.  Despite losing our sweet girl, we are incredibly blessed.  I’m so excited to be carrying Caroline’s little sister in my big ol’ belly as I type.  I’m starting to feel this little lady kick and move, and I feel like each flutter is a blessing from God.  I also feel like our baby Caroline is a little guardian angel watching her little sister.  So, in some small ways, Caroline is here with us still.

Sweet Girl,

You can't even dream how much I love you and how much I miss you.  My heart aches as I think of continuing life without you here.  Our family is not going to be whole until we're all up there in Heaven with you.  We know that you're up there being loved on by your grandfathers, your big cousin Brian, don't let him aggravate you too much!  We are so proud of you and all that your little life has meant to so many people.

Love you with my whole heart,

Momma

Spring is Springing

Well, friends...it's been 6 months today since our little Caroline passed away.  In honor of her 6 month Angelversary, I'm going to do a little giveaway.  I've seen other ladies do this on their blog, and I've always thought that it was a great idea.  I mean, who doesn't love to win something?  Who doesn't appreciate the little pick-me-up that it brings?

So, I'm going to give away a little handkerchief.  My Grandmother taught me to embroider, and it's something that is so very therapeutic for me.  I've started embroidering little handkerchiefs with the names of little precious babies gone too soon.  I think it's a nice little keepsake, and way to honor their memory.  They feature little purple flowers (they symbolize remembrance), and your sweet baby's name.  I could do an initial too, it's up to you.  Here's an idea of what they look like:

So, if you'd like to enter to win, please leave me a comment.  I'll do the random number thingy and select a winner on Friday.

Thanks and good luck!

Caroline's Little Sister

Yes, that's right world, Caroline has a little sister!  And let me just say, her Daddy and I are thrilled!

This journey of carrying a new baby while longing for the one gone too soon is...well...what can you really call it?  It's scary, so incredibly scary.  It's hopeful.  It's sad.  It's happy.  It's a connection to my baby Caroline.  It's a reminder that she's gone.  Some days it makes me feel closer to Caroline, and others it hits me how much further away I really am.  Please don't misunderstand me; I am beyond thrilled to be carrying Caroline's little sister.  I couldn't be happier that we're parents to a second child.  But, and this is something that all of us who've lost children say, there is no replacement for our babies.  And some would think that since we're having a girl, we are getting a type of "replacement."  This couldn't be further from the truth.  Yes, there will (Lord willing) be a little girl living in our house, even in Caroline's room, but it is never going to take away the missing of her that we do.  Caroline is a part of our daily lives.  She is included.  She is a member of our family, and just because she didn't give to stay here with us, doesn't discount her life at all.  This little one will know that she is not our first child, that she has a BEAUTIFUL big sister who lives in Heaven.  She will know that her parents love that beautiful girl who isn't here.

I (almost) wish that I could say that all of this news really makes me feel completely better.  But that simply isn't true.  I do feel a hope and a joy that I didn't know I would ever be able to feel again, but there's still a bitter pain there too.  I long for Caroline.  I ache to hold her and smell her.  I miss her so badly that my body hurts sometimes.  And because of our experience with losing her, I don't have that blissful ignorance of pregnancy that I had with her...and I miss that too.

I also am struggling with accomplishing things in "normal" life.  I don't know if it's a depression/grief thing, or if I'm just at a stalled out place.  I guess I just feel like I'm not making any progress.  I don't feel like I ever really accomplish anything.  And scarily enough, I'm not really even that bothered by not accomplishing much.  I think I'd honestly be okay to hold up in my house, or my back yard on the pretty days, and not have to face much in the way of responsibility.  I'm finding that I'm wasting so much time now.  It's not that I'm sitting around watching TV or anything...but time goes by, and I'm not really sure where it went.  I have to literally push myself to get my chores done.  And it's painful to actually face work each day.  It's intimidating, this thing called life.  I used to feel like I could handle most anything that came my way.  But now, all my energies are spent on actually surviving.  I'm terrified that something "big" can happen, and I'll just crumble under the pressure.  I guess, I'm finding it more true than ever: Life is hard.  There are many great things about life, but it is still so hard.

On a happier note, I wanted to share our "Baby Carolines" and her little sister's booties.  These little flowers were given as bulbs at Caroline's shower.  It's been so precious, because the people who planted them are calling them their Baby Carolines.  So I've gotten emails and texts saying that their Baby Carolines are blooming, and it makes me smile each and every time!

5 Months

I've been really trying to stay positive.  I've been trying to just ride the waves of grief and weather the storm as gracefully as possible.  I'm not very good at this whole thing.  And, while it feels like it's been an eternity, it's only been 5 months since I said goodbye to my girl. 

Looking back over these last 5 months, I'm amazed at all that has come to pass.  I'm proud of how well I'm doing, good days and bad.  I am feeling glimpses of great hope.  I can see that life truly IS worth living still.

BUT, I'm also sad.  I am truly so sad.  I'm sad to be another month away from my baby.  The changing of the season is even kind of tough for me.  I struggle with seeing life move on.  I struggle with moving on myself.  There are parts of me that feel guilty for being pregnant again; the ultimate "move on."  I guess, if I tell the truth, the moving on scares me because I'm scared of everyone forgetting her.  And I don't even mean like forgetting she ever existed, but just forgetting her on a daily basis, or a weekly basis.  Of course, I know that people don't miss her like I do (except her Daddy...), but this is truly something that impacts my daily life.  The weight of missing her is so heavy, I've simply learned to carry it a little more efficiently, but I never put it down.  And, I guess, if I had the choice to put down the weight or forget about my sweet girl, I'll carry that weight until the end of time.

In talking to my dear friend, who has also lost a baby, she said, "You know, I would do it all again.  Even knowing the outcome, I would do it all again."  And I agree.  I agree wholeheartedly.  Knowing that I couldn't keep her, I would do it all over again, just to know her, just to feel her, just to know that she's waiting for me.  She's waiting for me.  And, I'm waiting for her...

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

I’ve hit a bit of a rough patch, or should I say a tearful patch. For some reason, I find myself reduced to a tearful puddle a few times a day now. I’m having a hard time with this because this feels more like when things were fresher. This feels like what I was going through in the weeks immediately following losing my sweet girl. Am I going backward? Is this normal? Is this just grief? I feel like I’m losing the progress I’ve been working so hard for.

I don’t want to just write about all the horrible things that I’m feeling. I don’t want to be the most negative person around. That’s not me. I’m a happy person. I try to look for the good things, the silver lining. And some days, some hours, I can still find the sun breaking through the clouds. Sometimes, I feel like the grief is just so heavy that I can’t stand it. Sometimes, I feel like it’s too much.

I feel like an alien when I’m out in the world. My skin must reflect the awkwardness and discomfort I feel inside. It’s just too strong to be invisible to the naked eye. I must be green and scaly. There must be something about me that people can see and instantly pity me and turn away from me. I know I’m just being dramatic, but it really feels that way sometimes.

This pregnancy has, in many ways, made me miss Caroline even more. I’m in no way saying that I am not over the moon about this baby. I am saying that I miss getting to hear her heart beat. I miss getting to see her on ultrasounds. I miss feeling her kick. I miss her. I miss everything about her. And I fear that I’m moving so far away from her.

I’m also fearful that people who don’t understand are going to think that this baby somehow “fixes” things. In no way does this baby change anything at all about my grieving for Caroline. And I’ve gotten glimpses of that from some people…which somehow makes it worse. I just want to scream at them, do one of those Hollywood movie tricks that I can lay my hand on their heads and transfer my memory, my feelings, what this is truly like. Make them understand.

There are a few things that really derail me. The stress of returning to a “normal” life (i.e. work mostly, but also some really insensitive and selfish people), and being blindsided. I used to be able to handle stress a little more grace than I can these days. Thankfully, my bosses have been pretty good and understanding. However, some days, I have a hard time getting up and being in the office. I have a hard time sitting at my desk and working like everything’s okay. As for the insensitive and selfish people, yeah, they just need to go away…FAR away…and that’s all I’m going to say about that.

Now for being blindsided: When I go out into the world, I prepare myself for babies. When I go shopping, I know I’ll see moms and babies. When I go to church, I know families will be there. When I watch TLC, I know there are TONS of baby commercials. However, when I’m sitting at my desk at work, I never expect there to be a baby around. Sure, sometimes people have to bring their children with them for a little while. But, I was sitting and minding my own business…then I heard this squeal. I knew what it was. My heart started racing, palms sweating, shortness of breath. It was like an all out panic attack. I wasn’t expecting that. Then the second the anxiety dissipated, TEARS. Not the kind of tears you can cover up. I was stuck, sobbing, at my desk. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Let me be clear here, I’m not saying anything bad about the family who brought the baby…I just wasn’t prepared.

On a positive note: I am surviving. I am learning to live again. I am on a difficult path, but I’m on it. And I’m taking some pride in that.

How Many Kids Do You Have?

People love to find out that you’re expecting. The world as a whole seems to get excited at the idea of people having babies. I mean, it’s a happy time. It’s full of excitement, joy, expectation…and some fear. If you’ve ever lost a child, at any stage of pregnancy, there’s likely to be a lot of fear. For me, I know that the fear is definitely there, sometimes it’s only lurking in the background, and other times, it’s in the forefront, making my chest hurt with anxiety.

It’s been a busy and bustling few weeks. But, we’re still here! I’m in my 12^th week now. Things seem to be progressing healthfully and normally with Baby Ramsey #2. We’re thankful to God for all He’s done to bless us to this point, and pray that He will continue to look out for the baby’s health, and mine as well. I’ve actually felt the morning sickness more intensely this time around, and the fatigue has seemed worse too, but I’m not complaining. I’m sleepy and green faced, but not complaining! I’m excited to move out of the first trimester and get that burst of second trimester energy!

The pregnancy talk brings me to my main reason for posting today. The question: How many kids do you have? It’s not a difficult question. It’s actually considered polite by most people. Why should it make me cringe? Why should I actually have a mini panic attack at the thought of someone asking me? Well, that’s simple…my life isn’t standard in this area. I’ve actually been very average in most areas of my life, but not this one, not even close. I don’t want to offer my entire life story (i.e. Caroline’s life story) when someone asks me such a well-meaning question. I don’t want to NOT tell them about her. It seems like a lie not to include her in the count. More than that, I want people to know her. I want people to know that she existed. Yes, she passed away before she was able to live outside the womb, but she LIVED. She was my buddy, my constant companion during those months I carried her. I talked to her, she kicked my ribs, it was our thing! She loved getting to see her Daddy at the end of the work day. When I’d lay eyes on him, she’d kick…she loved him so. Those are real memories, from our real child.

So someone asked me today. My answer, “This one is number 2!” And I felt okay with that answer. I didn’t bring her down into the dumps by telling her that our first child was stillborn in the 39^th week (see how that’s just a major downer!?). I didn’t lie and say that this was our first. I just told the truth. The truth as I know it. The truth as it is. And I feel good about my answer.

Mountains and Molehills

Hello again, world. I’m still here, and I’m still kicking. Things have just been so busy lately! So I apologize for not posting much recently.

I want to start off by expressing my sincere thanks to all of you out there who offer support...you'll never know how much it means to me. Those of you who comment and understand where I'm coming from are invaluable to me. Those of you who offer support in the background, thank you so much. I need so much support to face each day. It seems that each day is a new challenge. Some days I actually feel like I can accept the challenge, and at least face it with dignity. While, some others, I honestly want to run screaming at the sight of the challenge.

Today's challenge involved work. I'll be completely honest; I'm struggling to find my new normal here. I've managed to figure out where I fall in most things, but work isn't so easily organized. I would love to just jump back in as if nothing ever happened, but that simply isn't possible. I'm not the same person I once was. My skin is much thinner. My feelings are rawer.

There's a vulnerability I haven't had my entire adult life. I used to be a planner and a go-getter. Now, I am finding that I forget things easily. I’m shaken in my stability to perform professionally, because honestly, some days it’s still a challenge to get out of the bed. My boss and his boss are both understanding and really good people. I’m thankful to work for them, and I don’t want to let them down. I’m scared to let them down. I’m scared I can’t be a useful team member. I’m scared.

Back to the challenge of today: we had a meeting. So you’re probably thinking, “What’s the big deal!?” Well, there are 2 big deals: One was that I was meeting with some people that I haven’t seen since I was pregnant. A very nice and well-meaning lady asked me if I was getting back in to the swing of work and dealing with a baby. The people around who knew the situation were SHOCKED. They were probably more uncomfortable than I was. I believe I handled it well, and just told her that Caroline was stillborn, and that I didn’t want her to feel bad for asking. But still, ouch. Then, the second big deal is that it was in the same room where my work friends threw me a shower for Caroline. I walked in and had to pretend to be okay, but I was punched in the gut. I excused myself to the restroom for a little private sob, and then I went back in. I fought tears all day.

Things overall are going well, though. I actually have some news to announce. My husband and I are expecting again! We’re cautiously excited for the hope to have a baby live at home with us. I am in my 9^th week right now, so I’m not very far along at all, but everything is looking good so far. The doctor is very optimistic, so we’re trying to hold onto that.

This is a very exciting and scary journey. It brings up all kinds of conflicting and difficult feelings after losing a child. Part of me is scared that Caroline will be forgotten by some. I know without a doubt that I’ll never forget her, not even a little bit. It isn’t possible. But for others, I think she might just be glossed over. She might just be part of an unfortunate life event that doesn’t really need to be thought of or discussed. But to me, she’s my daughter. She lived inside my womb for almost 40 weeks. I knew her, intimately. She was a part of me. And a part of me is still with her. I don’t want everyone to have to hurt like I do, but it would be nice if people missed her like I do, like her Daddy does.

This blog is still going to be about us: Caroline’s family. It’s going to take a little turn from time to time to focus on the promise of new life. It isn’t going to become a pregnancy journal. It’s going to be a place for her family to share our lives. We share in hopes that we can help ourselves, and ultimately help others.

Baby Tears

We cried tears when we learned that a child would be,

that your GOD had allowed you to quicken in me.

We cried tears with our loved ones as they shared our joy,

and we thought about names for a girl or a boy.

I cried tears as I thought of the things that we would do,

all the things that your Daddy would pass on to you.

And I cried as I thought of each inch you had grown,

as I pondered the day you’d make yourself known.

Then, to think of the world you must enter brought fears.

Once again, little loved one, your Mother cried tears.

Something’s wrong, I can tell – once again there are tears,

and I’ll not get the chance of your love through the years.

Oh the ache and the sorrow and all of the pain,

and again, yes again, my tears fell like rain.

Then His peace comes to me as I think of you there,

gently rocking with FATHER in His favorite chair.

Your sweet little fingers clenched tight in His palm

and His SON softly singing to help keep you calm.

Our FATHER knew you days before they came to be,

and He knew, little one, you would not stay with me.

So, I cry but I know that when this life is done,

I will greet and embrace you my little sweet one.

There’s a time to be born and a time to die,

and the joy and the sorrow both make us cry!

- Conni Johnson

These last few days have been a little harder than the days had been for a little while. I catch myself crying more often, harder, and less secretly than I was able to do a couple of weeks ago. Life is hard. Life outside of losing a child is hard. Life outside of grieving is hard. Life, in itself, is hard. I want to make sure and point out that I'm not giving up, I'm not caving in. I'm expressing my bare and raw emotions to...well...the world. I'm able to walk around in the world of the "normal" and pretend to be one of them. But sometimes, and often lately, it hits me...I'm not. I'm not "normal." I'm not okay. I can't be. I can't just pretend like my heart isn't still broken. I can't lie to myself or anyone else by acting like I'm really making huge strides. Well, maybe I am, because at least I'm able to go out into the normal world now. I couldn't do that for a while. But this last week, I've felt like the ground was crumbling under me. I cry at my desk several times a day. I don't mean those dainty-ladylike-tears-fall-and-you-swipe-with-a-hanky-and-all-is-well cries. I mean the shoulders shaking, make-up smearing, can't-even-make-it-to-the-bathroom-without-causing-a-scene cries. Thankfully, all the people that work around me are pretty great. They handle it like champs. And I'm so thankful for that.

I don't know if any of this makes any sense to anyone but me. If it doesn't, I apologize for rambling. If it does, I hope you aren't feeling these same feelings.

Fell On Black Days

Warning: This is probably not going to be a pleasant or uplifting post.

Okay, so what do you do when you’ve tried your hardest, and things still don’t go right? I’m not speaking specifically to our experience with Caroline, even though I did try my hardest to bring a happy and healthy baby into the world. I’m talking about things like your job, some relationships, tests, goals, hopes, etc. I’m having a day where I just don’t feel good. I don’t really know how else to say it…I am not in a good place.

I’m not a person who deals with failure very well. I’ve tried to set fairly high standards for myself all through my life. And I’ve managed to come pretty close to meeting those standards at many points. I’ve fallen on my face more than a few times too. Today, I feel kind of like I’ve fallen on my face again. Since everything happened with Caroline, I just can’t quite get back into the swing. My mind doesn’t stay focused on things, my skin, which used to be fairly thick, is pretty much transparent. I’m vulnerable. I’m scared. And I feel like a big fat failure.

From the day that I found out that I was pregnant with Caroline, I knew that I had to step up my game. I knew that I had to work hard, love hard, and play hard. I was having a baby. I was going to be a mommy. I had to be someone worth being proud of. I wanted her to be proud of her mommy. I wanted Arthur to be proud of his wife and the mother of his little girl. I was prepared to do that. But the ground fell out from under me. Now I feel like I’m starting from almost nothing.

Part of what is bothering me is probably not really worth getting bent out of shape over, but I tried my hardest, and it didn’t work. What’s bothering me today is my professional life, in addition to the regular stresses of life. I tried hard. My hardest. And still, it didn’t work out. I got some feedback today that wasn’t necessarily horrible, but it certainly wasn’t good. And I probably shouldn’t have let it hurt my feelings, but my feelings are just so raw, so exposed. I’m just not sure that I can withstand the corporate jungle and getting ripped to shreds, not anymore.

I want to sleep. I want to cry. I don’t want to face it again tomorrow. I know I have to though, and that is really tough too. Today is a day that makes me just want to go to bed and cover up my head.