Friday, July 29, 2011

Life lesson # 2,349 from a baby girl to her mama...

Today I am heading to my annual dermatology not for Botox (though my eyes could definitely use some!).  I love this doctor's office, it is incredibly posh and way over indulgent.  Typically when  coming here, I make sure that I am in a cute, trendy outfit, hair and make up well done, and looking my best. A bit vain...yes, but after all...these people evaluate people's outer self for a living!
Today, however, is different. I have that first day of school pit in my stomach feeling as I get ready. Today I find myself in this beautifully decorated, posh waiting room, wearing shorts, a ragged plain t-shirt, hair up and no make up at all.  The poor girl behind the counter is probably thinking...whoa...whatever she is getting done, they sure have their work cut out for them! Today's appointment feels daunting. You see, this is the last of appointments (believe me there were many) where the last time I was here I let them know I was pregnant. My doctor was so excited that not only did she document it in my chart but she scrolled it across the top bar of the computer screen. Now today...when that computer screen pops up, they will ask about the baby. My heart is heavy. 
My name is called and I am escorted to the exam room.
The nurse tech checking me in is very sweet. I cringe as she pulls up the computer screen. I wonder after this visit if it will scroll, "dead baby" across the top?
She says nothing. She asks me all  of the routine questions, "How much time do you spend in the sun?" "Do you still live at..." "Any medicine changes?" "Any recent surgeries or procedures we need to know about?". My heart gets caught in my throat...I gave baby died. But I don't think that is what she means. So I reply with a "no." That is it, she is done with her part. Phew. I feel like I dodged a bullet to the heart. Well to be honest, a bullet to the heart would be a blessing, it would be fast, basically painless, and it wouldn't cause agonizing suffering. 
Before the tech leaves the room, she spots my hand/footprint necklace. She comes closer to see it and asks proudly, "is that your baby's prints?" I respond proudly back with a "yes". 
I love my necklace with her tiny prints, but I can't tell you how few people acknowledge them (except from those who knew I was having them made). This was a welcomed interaction. 
I sit in the exam room for 45 minutes, freezing as the paper dress they have me wearing is no match for the room's arctic chill. I flash back to my last appt. I was 8 weeks pregnant. I was so excited to tell my doctor. She kept telling me how I was " just beaming", and having known of our earlier miscarriage, kept telling me that she, "just knew this pregnancy was going to be alright". (Something I will never say to any pregnant woman...because unfortunately no one can ever guarantee that. )
My heart hasn't yet found it's way out of my throat and I feel my eyes beginning to well up. Please don't cry, not yet, not here. This is the last time I have to tell someone that is expecting a joy-filled story, about the heartache that has accompanied it. (though my heart and my head knows this won't be the last time). 
I compose myself minutes before my doctor and the nurse come in. As they position me on the exam table...the nurse immediately asks me if my bracelet is a "mother's bracelet". It is my silver and garnet bracelet that says Sofie's sweet name. Again one that has gone seemingly unnoticed even though I have worn it every day. I nervously tell her yes and she says it is beautiful and tells me of the one she has as well. I feel like a normal mom. 
The doctor didn't look at the computer screen and doesn't seem to remember my joyous announcement from my last appt....I am more than fine with this. She flips me over onto my back and as she examines my stomach, she notices my "linea nigra". She asks if I have been pregnant recently. I gulp back my heart and tell her that I had a baby in January. She asks when, "the 26th" I reply. She smiles. She notices my necklaces and reads Sofia Isabella's sweet name out loud. She asks if this is our first. I say yes. She says that she has one born in January too, and that Sofia is going to be incredibly independent. If only she knew just how independent. She doesn't need her mama at all. *sigh* There is so little that I can even do for her. The exam is the over. I have made it through....with no tears, well not in the office anyway. 
I get to the car and it is a different story, the tears flow freely as my mind processes the morning. 
In the background a familiar song comes on the radio that I have heard countless times, but my understanding of the words are so different now:

 "Where is the moment we needed the most ?
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost
You tell me your blue skies fade to grey
You tell me your passion's gone away...
You're faking a smile with the coffee to go
You tell me your life's been way off line
You're falling to pieces everytime...

Because you had a bad day, you're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around...

Sometimes the system goes on the blink
And the whole thing turns out wrong..."

Isn't that the truth. I am having a low moment in the baby is so independent, she doesn't even  need me at all.  This is a difficult pill to swallow.  As I cross an upcoming street I notice it's blurry name through my tear-filled eyes. Legacy Drive. I replay this morning's events. I dreaded having to share with another person that expected a happy story, that my beautiful baby girl died. Today I didn't have to. 
I was able to share Sofie. I shared her perfect little prints, her beautiful name, and her birthday...only. I only shared that she lived. The part the matters the most. Her life is her legacy, not her death. She began  inspiring love, hope and faith the moment she entered this life...not because she left it. I begin to feel joy win out over the pain at my revelation. Sofie's life is her legacy! Just as I ask her out loud, "and you aren't done yet are you baby girl?", a beautiful, large yellow and black butterfly flies right across my windshield. Coincidence? Perhaps. Special? Definitely. She isn't done yet...she's got so much more to share. My baby girl may be independent, but just maybe she does need me. She needs me to continue her legacy, to continue to  share her life, so that she can continue to spread her love. I promise you, baby girl, your mama's not done yet either. I will always share your story, but more importantly your life, so that you can continue to awaken a sense of love in every heart that learns of you. I love you, sweet pea, to the moon and back, always and forever. ♥♥ 

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

The sweetest 6 month old...

Happy 6 Month birthday, Sweet Pea. Mama loves you more and more with every day.  For your 6 month birthday we got you a puppy! Ok well that isn't really how it started out, but alas that is how it came to be. It was nice this evening to feel a feeling that  haven't felt in some time...I was excited to come home from what I was doing to see our little pup. I haven't felt that giddy and child like about anything in so, so long.
 There was an awful, eerie feeling today that I just couldn't shake. A feeling that we would get a call from the vet telling us that she didn't make it through her surgery and then we would just have all of her stuff in the house just waiting for her. *sigh* I suppose I wouldn't have even had that thought in my previous life. But now I have become so protective of my excitement and joy. I'm just not sure what the price will be for that joy.
The price was so unfairly high for the joy of you, but I would gladly pay it over and over again to have had the chance to love you at all. And love you I do! I hope you can feel extra special warmth and love for you today on this special day of yours (which you half share with your Papa! is his birthday today).
I can't help but wonder how you would be growing at 6 months, what new adventures you'd be learning, who you would be looking like these days, and oh how I wonder about that giggle; that sweet, sweet giggle. I wish we were going to get 6 month photos taken, and I wonder what adorable outfit you'd be sporting for them?  I wonder what your favorite baby food would be...sweet potatoes like your cousin , Becca or maybe some peas?!  I wonder if you would crinkle your perfect button nose as your new puppy dog kissed you like crazy!
 I will always wonder, sweet Sof, always wonder who you would be...who you are now. But I know that answer are an angel. A perfect, beautiful, little angel full of love and light. The most advanced 6 month old I know! I love you sweet pea, Happy 6 months...maybe tonight I will hear that giggle. ♥♥

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Breathtaking beauty...

I caught a photo of Sof tonight that Mike must have tucked into the corner of our bedroom mirror. Sure, I have poured over her photos for what seems like months of my lifetime, but it never takes away the very real, visceral, aching love that I feel every time I see them. I am immediately reminded of the words from an ABBA song used in Mama Mia as I stare at her face; those lips and ‎"With a surge of that well-known sadness... I have to sit down for a while."
Don't get me wrong, it doesn't pain me to stare at that perfect face, those kissable lips, or peaches and cream simply takes my breath away. Caught up those minutes, lost in her beauty, I feel whisked away from this world; and it is the truest sense of what that word should mean. I feel close to her. 
The moment that I return back to the real world, I'm surprisingly not met by sadness. How can I be?! I not only had the experience of carrying this beautiful baby girl for 9 months, of giving birth to her; but I had/have an angel. Somehow tonight, that doesn't feel like the curse that it often has. Tonight it feels more like a gift....the gift that she is. Don't get me wrong...I would give anything to be rocking my sweet baby girl tonight and reading her our favorite bedtime story...anything. But since I can't seem to figure out how to will that so...tonight I feel honored, honored to have been chosen to be the mother to this baby girl whose inspiration and impact of love left in this world is immeasurable. I have an angel...and that is an indescribable feeling of pride. At least for tonight...
Sof, thank you for helping mama feel the warmth of joy again, even if just for the moment. 

Friday, July 15, 2011

Glow on baby girl...

It's hard to believe that it has been 5 months today since I held you in my arms. 5 months since I changed your diapers, bathed you, stroked that silky head of yours. I can still feel you arch your back every time I touched your head with my hand or gently placed a kiss on top of that soft and straight dark blonde hair (just like daddy's). I miss the days where I would plead with you to "wake up, wake up, wake up" with every one those stretches...hoping with each one, that this one would be the one to wake you from your brain injured slumber.
5 months. Even that doesn't seem right. In some ways, it feels like just yesterday that we brought you home to pass peacefully in your nursery.  In some ways still, it feels like a lifetime ago.
I just left your perfect nursery this afternoon and noticed how it seems to capture a constant soft pink glow, regardless of the time of day. I hate that you are not here to wake up from your nap to that glow...but maybe that glow is just for me.
That glow makes the energy in your room feel alive, just like you.
That glow is a reminder that just because your room isn't being used as I would have expected, the glow remains. It is comforting and peaceful. I find myself wanting to lie down on your  soft, perfect pink and brown polka dotted nursery rug and lose myself in the warmth of this pink glow.
You baby girl are just like that soft glow, radiating peace and comfort. And although not here as we had planned, you do remain.
I don't know that I'll ever stop counting the months since you left this world, but I do believe that counting the moments of love, joy, peace and inspiration that you brought and continue to bring, will far outweigh the  number of months since your death.
So today I remember that day 5 months ago, but I also celebrate your beautiful life. Glow on sweet Sofie, glow on.

 "All that I am, all that I ever was is here in your perfect eyes, there all I can see. I don't know where, confused about how as well, just know that these things will never change for us at all. If I lie here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world" ~Snow Patrol