Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

Our big girl!

Our big girl!
Growing so fast!

Kylie 1 day old

Kylie 1 day old
Curling up

Bryleigh Addison

Bryleigh Addison
Our youngest miracle


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Sunday, March 7, 2010

What scares me most...

That phrase is a little misleading, I suppose. One thing that I have felt strongly since losing Kylie is my way with the written word has improved. It is easy for me to type freely, letting the words flow from my mind through my fingers to the keyboard. Sure, there are flaws. What doesn't have flaws? But I think what has improved my writing is the reality behind it, the feeling, the raw emotions. The words I speak, sadly, are heartwrenching yet true.

What scares me most... like I said, misleading. What scares me most, well, has already happened. Now, it is the life I live in response to what happened. Really, every day scares me, just to end with me being scared of the next... and so on.

I am afraid of the day when it is no longer okay to use Kylie's picture as my profile picture on facebook. I know, how ridiculous that sounds. But it's true- life continues on. It's not like I will have new pictures of Kylie to share all the time, like other mommies. It's not like you will see a change in her. Forever, the images I have of her will sadly, painfully stay the same. There will be no aging, there will be no changing.

Change. Terrifying to think of. As I sit here, contemplating on where this blog is going, terror has shocked me more than once since the pang hit me to write tonight. When the feeling hits, you must succomb. And I must say, I am unsure why I feel the need to write here instead of on my March of Dimes blog. I haven't even looked at it in a week. I guess it's no matter. In the months before I went back to work, I lived on that blog. Hours per day, I would search, write, share. I would find peace and comfort in others who shared my misery, and I would find solace with those who did not know or understand, but felt for me and my loss. It was almost an obsession, and yet, as quickly as I became obsessed, I dropped it. There is no reason. I love my friends there. I guess... well, I have become occupied. I have the walk to take my time, and I have found more time for books and less time for the computer.

Change. Terrifying to think of. Yet, I am not the same as I was before this happened. No one plans to bury a child. We plan a future--even though she wasn't born, I had envisioned her life--as a child, a teenager, a wife, a mother... and desperately hoped that I would be alive to see her become a strong, independent woman. I prayed to God that he would give her my desire to learn, my will to try hard at all that I do. I hoped she would get her daddy's strength, and his knack for making people laugh. I hoped that she would love deeply and strongly, and I hoped that she would have a heart of gold. I envisioned, more often than not, her walking down the aisle in a white wedding dress with Chris at her side, his hair gray, but still as strikingly handsome as ever, as our daughter, more beautiful than any bride I ahve ever seen, prepared to start her own life with someone made for her. This thought bothers me more than anything else. Sure, I wanted her to graduate from high school and college (Auburn of course- nothing but the best for my little girl). It made growing old seem worthwhile, full of purpose, and it was not scary to grow old thinking of her to fill our hearts and lives. Yet, those plans no longer get to unfold, though I still picture them often. It is hard for parents to bury a child. Not only do I mourn HER, the loss of her. I mourn her future, my future, OUR future. I mourn the life she didn't get to live, the life that I lost when i lost her. No, it's not selfish thinking. Don't misinterpret. Even now, Kylie comes first.

I think I lost my passion for reading when she died because I never got to share that with her. I hoped that she would share that passion with me, and we could read our favorites together every day, over and over. I always pictured me reading her bedtime stories at night. I always, always, pictured it. The first book I read to her was "On the Night you were born." I read this to her on what would have been her two month birthday at her grave, sobbing the entire time. There is so much I wanted to do with her, say to her... teach her. Now, I won't get the opportunity.

It scares me to death that I have to live my life in a new "normal" without my daughter. I guess that's normal, but it feels so abnormal. Profound, I know.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

5 months ago...

5 months ago today, my little angel was 5 days old. I was out of the hospital for only 2 days. We were on the long road, ready for a rollercoaster NICU experience. At this point, we were not too worried- we were anticipating her 10-day-old brain ultrasound to check for brain bleeds. We were excited that she was gaining an ounce or so a night. We were finally getting the hang of all that beeping. We were befriending other NICU parents.

Never, EVER did the thought cross my mind that I might lose my little girl. It never occurred to me that she wouldn't be with us. It wasn't even an option. Sure she was tiny, and we knew it wasn't going to be easy, but we were already planning therapy, and preparing our families for the harsh reality of having a premature baby.

These have been the hardest five months of my life. The most difficult time I could imagine having... my life is so different, yet still eerily the same. It's like we stepped back to the time before Kylie, but yet, we know about her, we held her, we had her for two weeks. I carried her for 7 months, and I watched her grow and felt her move. My life is altered forever, and yet, I have no beautiful little baby to take care of and raise.

In a desperate attempt to find something to hold on to, something to occupy my time, I finally found the March of Dimes and the March for Babies. I started a team on February 1, and we currently have 53 walkers and $3,905 raised. This has been an amazing experience, and it has given me so much pride in my little girl. It makes me feel closer to her, and for that I am thankful. We are so blessed to have so many kind-hearted people in our lives.

This week has been really hard for me, but I guess that is to be expected. Hopefully, things will get better soon.