Thursday, June 30, 2011


It's odd when something like this happens. All around, words fail.

Here are some recent attempts at words:

"Everything happens for a reason."  I've heard that one a few times. For all of you out there who haven't experienced loss, that line is not so comforting.

"We really thought you'd be over this by now." Lady at my office said this to me the other day, after I decided not to go to an office picnic because a baby that was born on the day Georgiana died was going to be there.  "Over this."  There is no getting over this. And trust me, I am not even close to the point where I can truly say, "yes, I've accepted it and gone back to normal living." That may never happen.

"I was so upset when I heard. All I could think about was, 'what if this happened to me?'"  This comment is so offensive to me, it almost makes me laugh.

Since Georgiana died, I have had a constant feeling upon me, stronger at certain times, always stronger late at night and in the morning when I wake up.  Until we went to see the counselor, I couldn't name the feeling.  Fear?  Not quite.

Feels more like being dead inside, like wanting to die.  It's odd. And horrible.

I felt it like fire when I laid on the table and was told by the doctor there was no heartbeat. I felt it in those first couple days in the hospital, especially that first night after she was born. March 20 and March 21st, easily the worst two nights of my life. The night of March 21st, I lay all night in the bed, feeling utterly alone. Praying fervently. Asking God, where are You? Where were You? Feeling evil and blackness, drowning in it. The nurses coming every couple of hours to check on me. Hoping it was all a bad dream. Empty empty pain.

The therapist put a name to it--dread.  Dread.  This is it. Much more than fear. A mix of intense fear, panic, sadness, emptiness, exhaustion.  I don't know why I've been asked to carry this, but it's like a stone. Others are uncomfortable with it. I am too sad for some people, I can tell. Many people do not speak to me of my child.  Even I paste on the face of okayness and every few days feel as if I will collapse from the sheer exhaustion of it all. The exhaustion of simply trying.

It's day to day surviving, and it simply sucks. I was driving behind a driver yesterday who had a "breast cancer survivor" sticker. I was thinking about that, and what it would feel like to be a survivor of that. I would think it would be a triumphant sort of thing.  Being a survivor of this involves no triumph, more bitterness.

It's hard to have hope right now. I have a hope for heaven, but that feels so far off that it is very dim. There is only so much hoping for heaven I can do right now. The nowness, the burden of being on earth, tends to outweigh it. I often find myself asking why any of this even matters. I don't get any of it. I have a constant prayer to God right now that doesn't quit--Why, God? Why?

I have struggled a lot lately. In the last couple of weeks, nearly all phone calls have tapered off. People expect you to "snap back," somehow. I can't. I don't know how. I feel angry about many things lately.

For example, only a handful of people recognized my husband for Father's Day. I was so angry about this I could hardly see straight. I don't know what the alternative would have been, but I felt like it should have been different. Then again, I don't know if it would have been different if Georgie had lived. Either way, it makes me angry.

This is not one of those situations where you just "think happy thoughts."  It just doesn't go away like that.

Sometimes I wish all I felt was sadness. Sadness is just one of many awful daily, sometimes by-the-minute, emotions. Sadness, yes, but anger, frustration, self-blame, exhaustion, insomnia, fear, panic.

Feelings I don't feel so much anymore: carefree (nope, gone, probably not coming back), happy, like everything is going to "work out" (because face it, we don't really know).

As a BLM friend wrote in one of her last posts, she's a crappy friend now. Yeah, I feel that way now. Crappy friend, wife, daughter, etc...Probably not so fun to be around me anymore. Sigh. Life is just too hard sometimes.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011


So Dave and I went to see a counselor tonight.

To recap the conversation, a few short points:

- How are you sleeping? "4 days out of 7 per week, not bad. 3 or so days per week, bad. Can't fall asleep, wake up in a panic, can't go back to sleep, horrible nightmares." That's totally normal.

- How would you, in a word, sum up how you feel? "Empty." Oh, that's totally normal.

- Are you going to try again? "Yes, but I'm convinced I won't be able to get pregnant again." That feeling is normal. You'll have a hard time going through a subsequent pregnancy.

She specializes in marriage and family counseling, particularly in child loss, even further in infant and pregnancy loss. She told us that in her professional experience, infant and late pregnancy loss is the hardest thing to deal with that she has seen with her patients, in terms of the feelings that come along with it and the accompanying physical and hormonal issues the woman deals with.

It feels good to be validated and to be told that no, I'm not crazy. On the other hand, I feel so angry that I even have to go see a counselor because my daughter died. I will never understand the why of this, and I am pretty sure that question will haunt me the rest of my life.

It's so frustrating and I so miss my daughter. It's hard to accept that in a fundamental sense I have no control, I really couldn't have saved her, and that I never get to see her again until heaven. Most days lately, that just feels like such a long time.

Last night, memories of when we were in the hospital came to me. I remembered being in the hospital room, holding her and caressing her sweet head and face with my hand. I can still close my eyes and remember how her beautiful, soft little head felt under my hand. Sometimes I can actually feel my heart beating out of my chest as if it wants to go to her.

On an up note, my daughter has changed me in ways for the better. I try to be more kind to people, and this is because of her. I cling to the small things now to be grateful, and this is because of her. She has entirely changed me, and I pray that God give me the strength to use that change to help other people.

Love you, my Georgie-girl. Miss you so much, Mommy.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Three Months

I've been in a bit of a lull the last couple of days. I spent the latter half of last week dreading what I was calling the quadruple whammy in my head--Father's Day, Sunday, 3 Months on Monday, 3 Months From Her Birth today.

I am sitting at the end of the quadruple whammy and feel like the air has been sucked out of my lungs. But I guess I have survived. I pray for a life beyond day-to-day surviving, but I know it's a long time coming. The rest of this year just looms for me right now.

I thought I was exhausted when I was pregnant.

I had no idea. Grief is a whole different exhaustion, awful, soul-draining.

Yesterday, I was impressed with myself for getting out of bed, getting dressed and going to work. 3 months without my daughter kept running through my head. And yet somehow, I still functioned. And was productive. And yet I hated it. Hated it. I hate it all. I am ready for Christ to come, anytime. I am so ready to see my daughter again. And I cannot imagine all the years ahead.

I also got to hear a colleague of mine (whose child was born in the morning of March 20th, and my daughter died sometime that afternoon, yes) say the most asinine things yesterday. I was sitting in his office with another colleague, and the other colleague was teasing him because he is moving in a couple of weeks to Hawaii.  The other colleague said to him, "Stuff just really seems to work out for you. Why is that?"

He picks up a coffee cup on his desk that says "Faith" on one side and the verse "For I know the plans for you, says the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (I'm paraphrasing, forgive me if this isn't verbatim).

He points to the word "Faith" and says, "See this verse? If you have faith, good things will happen to you. I'm a great example of that."

I could literally feel the world screeching to a halt as I sat there.

Before, I would have dismissed that comment as stupid. Now it's just absolutely offensive. For all of you mamas, papas and families who have lost a child out there, my guess is this entire line of thought rings a little hollow.

I have always been blessed with strong faith. Before, I took it as a gift from God. Now I take it as a lifeline. I understand that a lifetime of faith, of prayer, has led me to this moment, to this struggle. I know it will lead me through other struggles in my life. I pray to God fervently that this is the worst one I have to endure.

I guess what I'm saying is that, for those of us who have faith, we never really know, do we? The last time I checked faith did not equal totally happy life on earth. The comments of my colleague make me angry, like somehow my faith is deficient and that's why life sucks so bad right now. It's irritating to me that a fellow Christian would say this to a non-believer and just turn him off. This is like Christians who say it should all be "ok" because there's a heaven to look forward to.

The last time I checked, I still have to make it through this life before heaven. And this life feels unbearable most of the time right now, despite my faith, despite my assurance of heaven.

The gospel of wealth. Ever heard of it? Such B.S.

Admittedly, as a Catholic, I'm probably pretty comfortable with the suffering side of the faith. We don't tend to shy away from it. Ever read descriptions of the Sorrowful Mysteries? Those confront true human sorrow face to face.

Despite that, I do expect more from my fellow Christians. I know this Christian colleague was trying to testify or minister to my non-Christian colleague, but really? The whole comment just sucks.

I need to stop stewing on this. It just happened to happen on the wrong day. The wrong day.

I have spent the last 2 days in a 3-month lull, thinking to myself, what is three months? Three months since her death? Or do I count three months since her birth, the next day. Three months, a quarter of a year. Three months, a third of my pregnancy.

Ugh. I wish I could turn off my brain. Sometimes it just doesn't work.

I miss my Georgiana so bad. Today I talked to my mom about what to put on her grave marker. Her grave marker. Her grave. How could my child's name ever be in the same sentence as the word "grave"?

The whole thing makes me cry to God, why? Why God? Why my child? I will never understand.

I am thankful for so many things. Because I know now, I feel it keenly, how much I could lose at any given moment. I thank God for my life, my husband, my family, my talents.

But I am also angry about so many things. For example, I pray to God several times a day right now to please give me the ability again to get pregnant. Three months after my daughter died, I want desperately to be pregnant again. Why should I even have to think about this? I should have a beautiful three month old little girl, who has chubby little arms and legs, and smiles and coos at me. Instead I pray to God to let me have that since it didn't really work out the first time.

Bleh. I need to just go to bed. I'm exhausted and so so over this right now.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

A New Picture

And a new picture to all of you who view this blog, because this picture just looks so much like Dave to me.

Father's Day

In the last week or so, I feel as if I'm "functioning" better than I have in nearly three months. Unfortunately, the heartwrenching pain is still there, but I guess I am acting more like my old self, although I feel totally different.

My entire view of the world is so different. Not necessarily bad, perhaps more real? Half of my soul (with my daughter) has already gone to heaven and it looks like it will not come back.

My heart aches tonight for my husband in a way it hasn't until tonight, the eve of Father's Day.

I stood in the aisle at Target this afternoon, completely baffled by the Father's Day card selection.

Here are the card categories I saw:
- First Father's Day (hm...not so good, covered with rattles and bottles...)
- Father's Day for the expectant father (nope, we didn't quite make that one)
- Father's Day Funny (
- Father's Day From Son (not yet...hopefully someday...saying a prayer as I type)
- Father's Day From Daughter (sigh)

Unfortunately there is no Father's Day card category of Father's Day for Bereaved Parents. I guess the card-making world doesn't expect you to buy a card for a bereaved father. Nothing could be further from the truth. Nothing really gives me away in the outside world as a mother except maybe my changed body, but strangers don't know that. Nothing gives Dave away in the world as a father.

But he is one. 

So there I stood in Target, completely unable to decide on a card. Then a woman with a 9-month old little girl walked up next to me and exclaimed, "there are just so many to choose from!"

Not really, lady.

I finally decided on one from Georgiana with owls on it and one from me. For those of you who don't know, we decorated her nursery in owls. A snowy white owl (which I now sleep with, yes, true) is the first toy I bought for her.

This Father's Day, I am grateful for my incredible husband--strong, supportive, a beautiful soul. I thank God that He gave me such a wonderful partner to go through life's struggles with. I thank God that I am with a man with whom I made a child more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. I thank God for my husband, who made an angel with me, who loves me beyond what I have ever known, who would do anything for me.

I hope tomorrow that Dave feels Georgie's love from heaven. In the midst of my heavy heart, in the midst of my sorrow, I feel it. I am so blessed He gave her to me, even just for 9.5 months. She is the greatest gift I have ever been given.

Praise to you, my God. I don't understand your plans, but I have faith. Thank you for that. Thank you for my husband. Thank you for my daughter.

Happy Father's Day to all the good fathers I know, especially to those men who are fathers to saints in heaven.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Missing You

Dear Georgie, daddy and I are missing you, wondering what you're doing in heaven right now. I wish I was sitting with you in your nursery, rocking you in your chair. Missing you so much, my perfect baby girl. Love you, kisses from here to heaven where you are. Keep asking God to send mommy rainbows. We were so lucky to have you, my beautiful beautiful girl.

Friday, June 10, 2011


That's a lame title for a post, but I can't think of anything else and I need to get myself dressed, out of bed, and to work.

Lately I have felt so much guilt about what happened. Like I should have known what was going on inside my body. I know that makes no sense at all but it's how I feel. And I am so sorry for my girl. She never had a chance. And I can't shake the feeling that I somehow should have known.

In other news, I had to go to the dentist again on Wed (third time in 3 wks) for the same tooth. Apparently my bite was way too high--they drilled on that for awhile to try and fix it again. They also told me my muscles are involuntarily clenching along my jawline. The endodontist asked me "Have you had any stress lately?"

Hah. Yeah, just a little.

So they may have to put a splint in my mouth. We'll see when I go back on Monday.

I have also become firmly convinced that I am now infertile and won't get pregnant. This is probably not true, as I have nothing to point to that would make it seem this way, but I am afraid of it nonetheless.

I miss my baby girl, so much sometimes that breathing seems impossible. Georgie-girl, I love you.

Saturday, June 4, 2011


I broke down in the grocery store today. Babies crying all around us, infant carriers, a little girl saying "Mommy" over and over in her grocery cart.

I couldn't handle it and just started bawling in the middle of the paper towel aisle, with Dave standing next to me and having no idea what to do. So out of the corner of my eye I saw him grab marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers as we rushed our way out of the store.

I love that man.

Is this to be my life forever? Am I going to constantly be triggered in this way? My heart actually hurts for the thought that I had this effect on someone when I was pregnant with Georgiana.

I pray to God the answer to these questions is "no." But I also realize that God's promises don't necessarily include a happy life on earth.

The rest of my life just seems like such a long time right now. And all I want is my girl. And I don't get her, not for a long time.

My soul is heavy.

I am trying to rest in the peace He gives, in the promise of heaven He gives to us. It's much easier said than done.  All I can do is pray, and have faith, and try to count my blessings right now.

Oh, on the side of "unblessings," that tooth that I had filled a couple of weeks ago? Yeah, probably need a root canal. I'm going to have to suck it up and go to the dentist on Monday for that.

So awesome.