Funerals

I may have mentioned in previous posts that we are trying to take care of the details of our inevitable situation now. We want to focus solely on Abby, and having those things hanging out there bothers me. I want to be finished with all of it. I'm not sure I can do this after she's gone. Right now, I make an incredibly difficult phone call, and then go hold her hand. I walk quickly by her and ruffle her hair. Little things that remind me I don't have to miss her yet.

I never went to a funeral as an adult until my friends baby died. Then a NICU baby in the room with my girls died. Of course, no one likes going to funerals. I might appreciate it less than others. Planning my own child's is more than surreal. It doesn't even seem possible.

Jeff's mom went to the mountains last week to mark the spot for the funeral home in the family cemetery. Its beautiful. She took pictures for us, and as sad as it is, we have some comfort in knowing she will be in such a beautiful place.




The little flag in the center marks her spot. Emily's is right next to it.




Looking straight up to the top of the hill.




The view looking down the hill from their place.




I love this. This is where my babies will be one day. This is where Jeff and I, Hannah, Sarah and the families they will have, will visit. This what we will see from a little mountain cemetery.

Again, comforting. It feels solid. That mountain has been there for thousands of years and will continue to be there.

I finally got up the nerve to call the funeral home here in town. Jeff and I will meet
there next week to choose a casket and finalize arrangements for transporting her (the mountains are 3 1/2 hours from us). This is very, very hard but the more we get done, the easier it is. I feel like making less emotional decisions helps me feel like I am doing what I hope to for her.

Because it's a little far from us, we will bury her quickly and privately when the time comes. There will definitely be a memorial service that I hope all of our family and friends will join us for.

Abby is doing relatively well, but as her kidspath nurse said this week, she is the definition of medically fragile. Every minute is so different. She requires intense care. Even home health nurses won't do most of it. They assist, but because almost all of her meds are IV now, and not compatible with TPN, they don't want to take chances on messing it up. That means I give almost everything. It's not very hard, but I am tired. She is fighting, so we are too. She is determined to really live in the time that she has. I am learning to do that right along side her.

We know that each day something could happen that would change everything. She can not recover from this. Having nonfunctional intestines is not compatible with life, and one day she will get sick. She's certainly hung on longer than the doctors thought she could, but as I've said many times, God has numbered her days, and He will decide which one of those is the day for a funeral.