Mira's Memorial Video

This is the video that I put together for Mira's memorial service.  I watched it for the first time in a long time tonight.  Watching just hurts too much sometimes, but after an especially hard last two days, I embraced my pain instead of pushing it away.  Looking at all these beautiful pictures reminds me of how many memories we tried to pack into her short time with us.  We filled each moment with love.  If there is one thing I can feel proud of, it is that my daughter never knew anything but love. 

Miss you Mira, more than words can say, so I won't try to explain how much being apart from you hurts right now. 

Where is Your God Now?

"Where is your God now?" This is said on TV and in movies.  Sometimes as a joke, sometimes serious.  This question has haunted me off and on since Mira's diagnosis.  Not because I really wonder, but because doubt is human. Because when others look at me sometimes I think they wonder that. Because it feels like a good god would prevent suffering.

On June 15, 2017, I posted this on Facebook for all to see:

Meet our miracle baby, scheduled to join us at the end of January 2018! 

Though it was never in Joe or I’s plan to share this with the wide world of Facebook at only 8 weeks along, we feel lead to share our story with everyone in hopes of spreading the love and power of God with everyone we can. 

On, May 18th I found out I was pregnant, Joe and I were overjoyed. Exactly two weeks later, I had some minor symptoms and my OBGYN ordered an ultrasound to verify that everything was going okay with the baby. The ultrasound showed that I had a blighted ovum (a generational sac but no visible developing fetus) and a miscarriage would be happening soon. I was scheduled to have blood work completed over the next few days to confirm the diagnosis, but we were told there was no hope. The baby was not alive and had not been alive for more than a few days, if that. Joe and I had little hope but prayed reverently, and asked others to as well. At this point we were mostly praying for peace and love for our little one in heaven. 

Oh, Don't You See?

Emotional strength has become a strange concept to me.  We really only tell people they are strong after they have been through something terrible.  People tell me I am strong all the time.  I don’t feel strong at all.  It is only at the times in my life that I have felt the most broken that people have told me I am strong.  I think that is true for most everyone.  So why, do we say that?  Because it is what you are supposed to say?  Because we actually think that person is strong?  To distance ourselves a bit from feeling the person’s pain? Probably a little of all three.    

You are so strong.  I couldn’t do what you have done.  Your strength is amazing.  People tell me these things.  I nod politely and smile, say something dismissive.  It is what you are supposed to do.  But, dear Lord, I do not feel strong right now.  I have felt strong at times in my career that I have stood up for what I though was right.  I have felt strength when protecting another person.  I have felt strength when I have stood up for myself.  I even felt some strength when I was fighting for Mira’s life by finding more doctors and more research.  I don’t feel strong in grief.  

Birth Story

Mira has been gone from this Earth for 8 months now.  She has been gone longer than she lived here.  I was 34 weeks and 2 days pregnant when Mira was born and then died less than an hour later.  The first two weeks of pregnancy don't really count, because that time is actually just the time before conception occurs and life begins.  So Mira lived for 32 weeks and 2 days.  At 8 months, she has now been gone longer than she was here.  That hurts, we should have had a lifetime together.

When you have a child that dies, not many people want to hear about how they were born.  I have had a couple people (thank you, thank you, thank you) ask to hear every detail of my birth story, but most people change the subject when I try to talk about having my child or being pregnant.  Here, at 8 months without her, I want to take the time to write down every detail of the day she was born and share it with anyone who wants to read it.

Mira was born on Monday, December 18th, 2017 at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia.  Since we live about 1 hour and 45 minutes from Philadelphia, with good traffic, my parents, Joe's parents and Joe and I went to Philadelphia the night before and stayed in hotel rooms.  I did not think there was anyway I would sleep that night, but I actually did.  Joe and I got up at 5 am on the morning of my scheduled c-section to take showers and get ready.  I took a shower and used the special soap I was given to use the morning of surgery.  I sat on the bed while Joe helped me put on my socks, as my feet, ankles, and leg were so swollen I couldn't do it myself.  I couldn't get my shoes on, none of them could physically get on my feet at this point.  My mom took the laces out of my sneakers so I could get them on.  My parents, Joe and I got in a cab and were taken from our hotel to the hospital.  We were over a half hour early.  We were told there would be traffic and to give lots of extra time.  We didn't need it.

All Too Well

I haven’t written anything in about a month. I keep thinking I should because I know it helps me to feel less alone and isolated. But I’m so very tired. I’ve said those words many times in my life, I think all of us have. I’ve been tired because I was a child/teenager with terrible insomnia. I’ve been tired because I was a college student not worried about sleep. I’ve been tired because I’ve been a grad student while working more than full time plus extra internship hours. I’ve been tired because I was up at night worried about clients I could not help. I’ve been tired because Sleep Apnea is hard to diagnose in young women. I’ve been pull over on the side of the road and walk around the car to wake myself up tired. I've been working full-time while carrying a child to term who won't survive tired.

But I’ve never been 'ready to give-up' tired. Not until these last couple weeks.  Its a whole new kind of exhaustion. Grieving is full-time work and being a loss Mom has not gotten any easier over time (yet).  I think it would fill my time completely if I could just focus on grief and nothing else for a few weeks, but that is just not how life works.  Instead, I have to deal with broken appliances, injured husbands, the fight to set up mental health care, a flooded basement, stolen bank cards, and all the usual day-to-day household maintenance and working full-time.  I know everyone goes through times where everything seems to go wrong and pile on.  But it seems like the last year and half, Joe and I have had one thing after another.  When just grieving alone would make it feel hard to go on, all this other stuff is just too much. Especially this last week, I have just felt that I am at my breaking point.  I've been just so tired, on so many levels, I know the exhaustion is affecting my ability to be a good wife, family member, friend, coworker, employee, and every other role in my life.

Where do you go with your broken heart in tow

What do you do with the left over you

And how do you know when to let go

Where does the good go

Where does the good go...

It's love that breaks the seal of always thinking you would be

Real happy and healthy, strong and calm

Where does the good go

Where does the good go

(Tegan and Sara)