Kidspath

Jeff took Hannah and Sarah camping (with his sister and her family) Friday night  into Saturday last weekend.  In a tent.  It rained. 

I should end this post now.  His camping trip lasted about that long.  Hannah and Sarah were not impressed, but I think that was always their intention toward this trip.  We are not big campers.  Emily and I stayed back and cuddled.  We reclined, ate, watched TV, and chilled out.  Happy times for us as the rest of the pack attempted to live off the land.  Let's just say they came back on the early side.  It was always going to be a short trip because Sunday we wanted to attend the memorial service KidsPath holds for its families. 

It was beautiful.  It really is a wonderful place.  I can't say enough how thankful I am  for them walking us through last year.  Without KidsPath and our awesome pediatrician, we would have probably had to put Abby in the hospital for her final days.  That would have broken my heart, so I am forever grateful for them.

The memorial began in the chapel where Abby's primary nurse lit a candle for her, then a choir sang a beautiful song. My IPhone pics are a little grainy, but I still want to include them.

 Then we walked over to the fountain where we placed water lily's in honor of our children.

Hannah placed ours.

We went inside for a reception and to paint tiles that will be a permanent part of KidsPath. The colors will be much brighter when after it's cooked.  Weird sentence.

I love this one with me helping Emily paint

Sarah made this one.  Very artistic, I think.

The rest of us worked on this.  The blocks are Lego's, Abby's favorite.

The will be fired and glazed, then placed in the hall.  I love them and can't wait to see the finished product.

After the tiles, we went to the garden where a metal sculptor made a butterfly for Abby and all of the other little ones that went to Heaven. 

It was a beautiful day, and a nice way to remember our sweet Abby.  This weekend we will visit her grave, and bring some bright flowers for spring. 

It's been about a year since we began with KidsPath, and a perfect time for me to see the nurses again.  Sometimes when I am alone with my thoughts it's hard to remember that a place existed where we felt like the best thing for Abby was to let go.  When I miss her so much, it doesn't seem like it could have been real.  A conversation with the one's who walked that road with us helps me to know that we still would have been at the same memorial, no matter what we did. 
We tried to let go with as much love, dignity, and respect for her as possible, and I hope and pray everyday that we did exactly that.

He heals the brokenheartedAnd binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3 (nkj)

20 Years ago....



It doesn't seem possible that 20 years ago, my first child was born, but it's true.  There she is.  So tiny and perfect.  This is the story of her birth, mostly for her.

I woke up the day she would come in to world very tired.  The night before, I attended my baby shower, and I felt good, but not quite right.  I slept in later than usual and when I woke up, it was almost lunch time.  I thought it because of all the activity the night before.  I was excited about the gifts for the baby, and anxious to unpack them. 

Jeff and I lived in a condo in Virginia Beach, on the second floor.  He went to work that day, and I decided to eat something before I braved the stairs to unload the car.  I made a tuna sandwich.  Isn't it strange to remember that?  Later, I thought that a tuna sandwich was the last thing I ate before I became a mom.  Irrelevant, but still, that's what happened :)

After lunch, I drove my car to the dumpster at our complex so I could throw the boxes away.  It was the middle of May, and beautiful outside.  Hannah wasn't due until the end of June, so it didn't occur to me that she could be born that day.   You can imagine my surprise when I leaned over to pick up a small box out of the back seat and my water broke.  I was stunned and looked up at a man throwing his trash away.  I told him my water broke, and he ran.  Seriously.  LOL!

I went back to the house and called my doctor, who told me to come to the hospital.  Jeff and I had just started Lamaze classes and knew that labor could be a while when water breaks first.  I called him at the radio station to let him know what was going on.  I didn't want to drive myself the 35 minutes to the hospital.  Jeff couldn't leave until someone else got there, and I thought I was fine for a little while.  It should have been about an hour before he got home.

I called my mom and family.  Jeff's mom was actually driving in that day, and we had no way to get a hold of her.  We changed our answering machine message to let her know we were at the hospital, and that's how several people found out I was in labor.  I wish we could have saved that recording. 

Jeff seemed to take forever to come home.  It was well over the hour I was expecting. I began having contractions, and it finally occurred to me that I was six weeks early.  I started getting scared being at home alone.  Finally, he came up the stairs, and I was relieved, until I saw that he was holding a Taco Bell bag in his hand.  He actually went through the drive thru on the way home to get me.  If you know my husband, this makes perfect sense.  "What?  You said we'd probably have hours before the baby comes!"  Turkey.

Anyway, we finally made it to the hospital and family began showing up.  We all hung out in my hospital room and waited for baby.  The first sign of trouble came when I tried to move from my left side.  I'd been laying that way for a few hours because that's the best position for blood flow to the baby.  When they said I could turn over, I'd just gotten comfortable before a few nurses came running in to tell me to move back over.  Little Hannah didn't like being on that side. 

I was having mild contractions, but nothing major.  The doctor came in and explained that with even mild contractions her heart rate was dropping.  They decided to do a c-section at that point. 

The epidural wasn't very effective, so I could feel a whole lot more than I should have been able to.  My heart rate was high, and I thought I might be dying.  I wasn't, but it wasn't pleasant.  Hannah came screaming in to the world at 7:25pm, exactly 7 hours after my water broke.  She was a 4lb 10oz, 17" little pixie baby.  Tiny, but perfect in every way.  I fell in love. 

She stayed in the hospital 10 days, mostly just to learn to maintain her own body temperature.  We brought our tiny daughter home, and life began. 

Hannah, I have loved the 20 years I've had with you.  Even when it's been a challenge it's been a privilege.  You're a great sister, daughter, and friend.  I still hope, pray, love, and dream for you the way I did when I held you for the first time.  I'm as excited about seeing your life unfold now as I was then.  I pray you continue to seek the Lord with your whole heart, and watch HIS plans for you prosper. 

The first 18 years of Hannah from her graduation video:

A few pictures that I love:

Mother's Day

I remember my first Mother's Day. I briefly thought of what it might mean when I was pregnant with Hannah, but I was probably too young to think of it with anticipation. Then she was born, and life changed beautifully. Then, I understood being a mom.

Those firsts are the ones I remember most vividly. I think most of us do. So of course this first one without one of my babies is memorable, but in a way I wish it wasn't. I always thought I took so many pictures but looking back, there aren't many of me with Abby. It was such a mistake to let silly things keep me from smiling next to my girl.

My hair was a mess, or I had fuzz growing on my teeth. I thought I didn't want pictures of that, but I did. I look through my bins of pictures (yes, scrapbookers, I said bins) and even ones I wouldn't put in an album or on Facebook are precious now. So few times did I stop to snap a picture of something as normal as holding her in my arms. When I finally did stop to take pictures, she was so sick, they aren't nice pictures.

12 years of her life at least 3 times a day, Abby drank from a baby bottle. I held her in my arms and fed her, and I don't have a single picture of it. It was just so normal, why would I take a picture? The pictures I do have of her being held, I'm holding the camera. I know it's alright and I just have to get over it. There's nothing I can do about it now, except to tell you all to stop for a second and take a picture of nothing.

Not smiling, not posed. Just a picture of the most ordinary moment of your day, when you're exhausted, or waking up snuggling. Keep a few that aren't for everyone else. I know that most people aren't going to lose children (thank you Lord!), but there is a place in my heart that longs for those little moments with all of my kids. It's so hard to imagine forgetting any of it. It is wonderful to see smiling faces on film, but as a mom, the minutes that made up every hard day are the ones I try to remember most.

None of my girls want to be held anymore, so my ordinary moments are few and far between now. Hindsight is, of course, 20/20.

In the end I had a great day. Church, lunch, a great nap (the best part about having older kids), and they all helped me plant a small garden. I couldn't have asked for more. We even snapped a few pictures :)



 

Abby Memorial

It's been a while since I wrote.  I guess I needed an unplanned break.  We are all doing well, but missing Abby like crazy.  Life is so strange without her here.  It's so hard to make sense of my days without her.  I wrote a post about being okay, then felt everything except okay.  How many times in eight months should I write about losing a child? It always seems like too much, and not even close to enough. 

We attended a beautiful service for Abby at her preschool here in North Carolina.  It was short, but very sweet.  They put a brick for Abby in their garden.  I know she would have liked it.  The wind blew that day, and wind chimes sang.  It was a multi-sensory garden for children with disabilities.  It was the place I didn't want her to need to be when she was little.  A special little pre-school I prayed she would never attend, but she did, and walking those halls I never wanted to walk, I felt comforted.
 

I was grateful she had a place that belonged to her.  I'm glad she had special playgrounds and swimming pools, and gardens that chimed in the wind.  Now she has her name on a walkway with brave other souls that walked the same road.  I missed her that day, but also felt profoundly proud of the young lady that grew from the tiny girl she was then.

We chose where to place her brick on the path.  Near the door, because she liked people, but in the sun so her name would always shine.

Her teacher remembered her, and remembered things about her that I didn't even know then.  She remembered that she loved to help in the kitchen at snack time, but I know when Abby was 3, I hadn't realized yet that she would need to be "helping" all the time.  That's what made her happy.  She had to be with someone every minute.  She loved people and wanted to participate in anyway she could.  I'm so glad her teacher figured that out, and let her help. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIaZMymZ3oM

This is the video of her teacher talking.  It's hard to hear, but sweet.  She talks about Abby teaching her patience, which was really funny to me, because I always thought of Abby as a little impatient :)  She said Abby needed to be with her at all times, which was true for all of us.  Then she remembered she couldn't cough or sneeze around her.  That sound sent my sweet child in to a fit that lasted what seemed like forever.  We all ran from the room when we needed to cough.  Her teacher shared that she was well in to the next school year before she remembered she didn't need to run.  I still feel that way.  If I cough, my spine tenses just a bit, then I remember it's okay.  Abby was much more tolerant as she grew.

The only very slight downside to the day was Emily making starry eyes at the boy that played guitar for the event.  That girl likes boys :/

We have another memorial for hospice in 2 weeks, then the kids start summer break.  Life just keep moving on, but every now and again we stop only to remember Abby.