Not really good at this..

So apparently I'm not great at this blogging thing- I'm trying to get better at it- I really am. I'll do better.

I figure the best way to update is for me to post some things from my facebook notes so that you will know what's been going on with me. I've had a very hard time lately, missing my little girl, but some really amazing things are happening in her memory and honor. I will start with May and work down until now, so bear with me:

This post is from May 8, 2010:
Dear Mr. Hallmark,

I am witting to you from heaven, and though it might appear.
A rather strange idea, I see everything from here.

I just popped in to visit, your stores to find a card.
A card of love for my mother, as this day for her is hard.

There must be some mistake I thought,
Every card you could imagine.

Except I could not fine a card,
From a child who lives in heaven.

She is still a mother too, no matter were I reside.
I had to leave, she understands, but oh the tears she's cried.

I thought that if I wrote you, that you would come to know,
That though I live in heaven now, I still love my mother so.

She talks with me, she dreams with me, we still share laughter too.
Memories are our way of speaking now, could you see what you could do.

My mother she carries me in her heart, her tears she hides from sight.
She writes poems to honor me, sometimes far into the night.

She plants flowers in my garden, there my living memory dwells.
She writes to other grieving parents, trying to ease their pain as well.

So you see Mr. Hallmark, though I no longer live on earth.
I must find a way to remind her of her wondrous worth.

She needs to be honored, and remembered too.
Just as the children, on earth will do.

Thank you Mr. Hallmark, I know you'll do your best.
I have done all I can do, to you I'll leave the rest.

Find a way to tell her, how much she means to me.
Until I can do it for myself, when she joins me in eternity.

By: JODY SEILHEIMER


*****************
To my dearest Kylie,

You granted my life-long wish of becoming a mother. It wasn't your birth, your life, or your passing that made me a mother. It was the creation of you, from the first second you were made. You became priceless at that exact moment, and that exact moment made me a mother. I will, forever, be your mommy, and you will for eternity to be my daughter. This holiday is extremely hard for me, because this time last year, I was opening my first willow tree of motherhood- the pregnant mommy. I got a mom-to-be mother's day card, and I was happier than I've ever been in my life.

And then I think of how desperately I wish to hold you again, how I miss the feel of you in the crook of my arm. I think back to the worst day of my life, which strangely was also a good day in the sense that I finally, after two long weeks of talking to you through plastic, got to hold you in my arms, which I had longed to do since before you were born. I used to imagine what it would be like to creep into your room at night and watch you sleep, and tonight, I know I will go into your room and cry... I will see all of your beautiful things that we bought for you and got ready for you, and I will cry. I will think of you, and my heart will still feel empty. Days like this make me need you more than ever. I was supposed to have you here with me this Mother's Day- I rejoiced in that thought last year.

I love you so, so much... and I miss you more than any words can ever express. You are my whole heart, and I love you deeply.

I miss you sweet girl. Please send extra strength and kisses to me tomorrow, as I will need as many as I can get.

Forever love,

Your Mommy

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This post is from May 17, 2010:

To my dearest little angel,

It has been over 7 months since I last saw you and held you in my arms. Sweet girl, I still have no clue which direction my life is taking me, and I am so unsure of so many things.

However, I am sure that you are the most wonderful gift I have ever been given. You are my life, my light, my whole heart. I love you with every ounce of my being, and I think you are truly, truly amazing. Because of you, my angel, I am trying so hard to help other mommies who have to go through what I am going through. In your name, I am trying my hardest to help other angel mommies cope, heal, and deal. I'm not quite sure how that works, because I am still trying to cope, heal, and deal myself, but it will come.

I am writing you today with some specific requests. First of all, I want you to forgive me. Please forgive me for being selfish-- as a mother, my selfishness comes in my desire to wish for you, to have you back in my arms. It also comes from my inability to be there for my family and friends as they grieve your loss as well, because I am too busy dealing with my own. Please forgive me, as I think I really have to be selfish a while longer, and I think it is important that I still focus on me and my grief, and unfortunately, I think that I will always wish to have you back.

In that same wish, I want you to be with those I love. I know you are with me a lot: I can feel your presence with me quite a bit, even if it is as simple as your open bedroom door that no one has touched in a week, or your tiny little orb in our anniversary picture. I know that you are probably worried about me, and I know that you want to be close to your mommy, but others need you, too. Your Daddy needs you, and Jaycee needs you... Grammy and Gramps need you... Aunt Ashley and Uncle Jon, Granny and Granddaddy, all your family... and your honorary family... Aunt Cait, Aunt Jesspa, Aunt Alicia, Uncle Bobby, Uncle Chris, Uncle Dave... Aunt Amanda... we all need you, and right now, I think some of them need you more than me. Trust me, if I could have you with me 24/7, I would, but I want you to be with them too. Sweet princess, you are so loved and so blessed to have such a huge extended family. Your life has had such an impact on everyone who knew you (and those who didn't), and everyone who was close to you hurts in your loss, especially those who were there the day you passed and held you closely, looking into your sweet little face...

I also want to ask for you to help give me strength. I am going through a very difficult time still, and some days, it is all I can do to get out of bed and put on my "going to work" mask. I feel like I have a mask for everything... a mask for going to work, for spending time with family, for spending time with friends, for being out and about... the raw, real me is too painful to show anyone, even your Daddy. That face is what is on the inside, screaming at me every day... that face is what comes out when everyone else is asleep, the one that cries and cries and seems so ugly and useless without you. No one else sees this face or mask, but I see it every time I look in the mirror. I see it, and it scares me... but yet, life must go on, so I put on my new mask, and I make it through the day, barely, but I make it. I think that my strength is fading, because I am trying so hard to put on a dog-and-pony show for everyone else. By now, so many people expect me to be doing better, to be in a better place, and maybe I should be, but I'm not. I'm tired of fitting into people's expectations of what I should do, think, say, or feel. I need your strength to help me get through this- I can't hide my emotions, and I shouldn't, but I want to deal with them better than bottling them up or exploding.

I also want to ask you to help others understand me. Please help them understand and know that I am still heavily grieving. I carried you in my womb for 7 months... 7 of the most glorious months of my life. I felt you move, flip, kick... I felt your foot pushing on my stomach and could feel the outline of your toes. I watched that pregnany test turn positive, I watched the ultrasound photos go from a small round sac to a little peanut to a baby... where I saw all ten of your fingers and all ten of your toes... and I watched the miracle of life play itself out inside of me. What an amazing blessing to see! And then... you came so early, and I prayed harder than I have ever prayed in my life. And then... I had to hold you as you passed from this world into the next, and watched you take my heart with you. The pain is the most excruciating pain... it is worse than any physical pain, even waking from my c-section with NO pain meds... this hurts so deep down, it is like a wound that won't close or heal. And yet, people expect me to be okay? Sweet girl, I can't be okay, so please help them understand. Help them understand that I MUST talk about you (at work, at home, with my friends, on the computer), help them understand that I must know that they still think about me, you, all of us... that I need to know that they understand why I'm distant at times and needy at others... help them understand that I need acknowledgement of your special days (birthday, angelversary)... and help them understand that I need their support in my endeavors to find a way to keep your memory alive. Help them understand me and what I need, because my grief is all consumming.

Finally, my precious little girl, help me forgive those who have hurt me. Help me forgive those who couldn't, or can't, be there for me... help me forgive those who intentionally said hurtful things and those who unintentionally said hurtful things. Help me forgive those who forget, or let it slip their minds. Help me forgive those who, while trying to comfort, caused a deeper wound, and forgive those who never said anything at all because they didn't know how or what to say. Help me forgive.

Kylie, you are an innocent, beautiful angel baby. Your memory will always be strong with me as your mother... I never want to forget one minute of your short life, and I never want to forget the overwhelming love I feel for you. You have changed my life, and because of you, I hope to change the lives of others.

Thank you to Caitlin for reminding me that others feel this pain, and for reminding me that I don't have to suffer in silence. I don't have to hide my feelings for the sake of others... and I don't have to worry what others think. Thank you for helping me remember.

Until next time, my Kylie Brielle, rest peacefully, and be sweet.

Love forever and ever,

Your Mommy
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This post is from June 1- Kylie's 8 month birthday

So many things going on right now.... so many, many things. Just when I think life is getting easier, better, the tail comes around and whips me across the face, leaving welps and bruises and poison that must be tended to... the kind that scars, burns, and aches much longer than necessary. Right now, I am so frustrated, scared, hurt, sad, depressed... it is all jumbled up and I have no idea what to do with it.

I can't say much about it, but please keep us in your prayers as we struggle with some things at Chris's work. It has me scared stiff and worried sick.

I am finding myself hitting that sick-to-the-stomach stage again, the time that just the wrong word or thought brings me to tears. I can't help it- it just happens. People expect me to be "better" now, but I feel like I'm reversing. On top of being very sad, I am angry again. I am angry that God chose to take my child away from me. Anytime anyone says it is "God's will" or "God doesn't give you more than you can handle," or anything to do with God and how good he is taking care of Kylie, I get angrier. God lets so many people keep their babies and their child, so what the hell did I do that is so wrong to deserve this eternal, never-ending pain? Why are Chris and I being punished, and what are we being punished for? I don't want anyone to tell me that God loves me right now, or that he is holding my child in his rocking chair. I want everyone to know that in the scheme of things, right this moment, that doesn't matter to me. What matters is that right now, I should be holding an 8 month old growing baby girl in my arms. I should be getting up in the middle of the night. I should be changing diapers. I should be buying formula, baby food, and bottles. I should be washing clothes every day that have spit up stains, food stains, and drool on them. I want to know why God thought it was such a good idea to give me my miracle baby, my one wish, and then rip her away from me before she should have even been born. I am constantly reminded of the fact that my arms are empty, the nursery is empty, and the house is "too" quiet.

Please don't judge me because of how I feel right now. I am a grieving mother. You may mean well with what you say, but unless you have lost a child, you will never understand how grief looks through my eyes. You will never understand the searing pain that courses through my veins every moment of every day, and you will never comprehend the agony my nightmares can bring. Unless you have gone through this or something similar, you will never be able to grasp what my life is like.

Each day I wake up empty. Each night I go to sleep feeling even more empty. My arms are heavy all day long with no baby to cradle in them. My eyes have a wall of tears ready to burst at any moment for any and no reason at all. My mind is constantly thinking: how would this be different if Kylie were here? How would she react to this? What milestones would she be having? Who would she look more like now? How would my life be at home? What would Jaycee think of her? How much would she cry at night? There is not a moment of my day that I don't think about Kylie and how my life would be different if she had not died.

Yes, I said it. She died. It's strange to me that I can sit here and play back in my mind the moments of my entire pregnancy through her funeral... I can even see myself in hysterics, begging for my baby back, but unable to stop myself from the rage. I just want to rip things apart, scream, and destroy everything in my way. I want to get her back, breathe life into her, and start all over. I want my baby. I want to be a mom. I want to be a REAL mom to a baby here on earth, not a mom who has no baby to hold. I love my daughter more than anything in this world, and it is so unfair that I can't have her here with me.

I'm not saying any of this for a pity party. This is my place to vent, to let it out, to feel like I am not completely insane.

I am again frustrated because every day I find out someone else is pregnant, and I'm back to that feeling before I got pregnant with Kylie... except, this time, it's ten times worse. I had my baby, and now I don't. Now, I can't get pregnant again, and I cannot wait another five years to conceive again. Every month that it is another "no" is another heart break for me, and I feel if my heart breaks any more, there won't be any of it left. I don't want to replace Kylie- no one ever will replace her. I just want to be a mom. I want to raise a child to know right from wrong, to watch grow and overcome every milestone life has to offer... I want a child to watch walk across a stage to graduate, and I want to beam with pride as I sit through a wedding, and one day... grandchildren. I feel like I have been robbed of so much already, and the least God could do is to help me conceive again quickly, after all He has put me through. I think that is also why I am angry. I know many people will tell me when I stop being mad at God he will give me what I desire, but it's okay to be mad at him. He's God. He can handle it.

I'm also feeling very alone, very pushed aside. It's like I've been put on my own little island with a crappy cell phone that only picks up signals every now and then, so I just get snippets of the world. I feel like I'm not a good friend because of it, and that people don't view me the same. I feel different and alone.

I just wish this never would have happened. I wish I didn't have to go through this. I wish I didn't have to feel this pain. I just want my baby, MY KYLIE, my beautiful, perfect daughter. I just want her back. That is all. I have never wanted much...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From June 11, 2010:

I made a discovery tonight. It might not be profound, or special in anyway, but it is a discovery.

I am not healed.
I am nowhere near healing.
I am broken, and yet I cannot be fixed.
I am torn, and cannot be repaired.
I will not be able to become whole again.

This is me admitting that I have been hiding a lot, that I have been trying to force myself to "be" better, when in reality, I am only prolonging the pain and bottling it away. The very thing I fault Chris for, I am doing to myself.

Tonight, at group, we talked about relationships and marriage. I admitted a lot of things and realized a lot of things tonight.

1.) I have not been grieving appropriately. i have been bottling up a lot, and putting it aside to cry at a particular "time" each day. i have tried to stay busy and to do things to prevent myself from being sad. At the same time, I have felt guilty for being happy, or having fun, or smiling. I feel so guilty for everything. How can I be happy when my baby is dead? How dare I have fun when she is not here to celebrate? The guilt overwhelms me (yes this is normal).

2.) People just don't understand. As humans, we are very judgemental and not very quick to just LISTEN. All I have ever wanted was for people to listen to me and to acknowledge me and my feelings. I don't like people thinking I'm crazy for still talking about my child and her death. i don't like people trying to tell me when and how I should be okay. I just want people to listen and accept. Don't tell me you understand if you haven't been there, but don't ignore me, either. Simply stopping by, etc., is enough.

3.) I would rather grovel in self pity all day than do anything at all. Grief is all-consumming, and it is catching up with me. I don't want to cook or clean or do anything really. I just want to sleep, or play on the computer... and yes, it is probably a bit of depression, but it is called GRIEF, and it's normal. Now that I don't have the responsibility of going to work, I'd much rather do nothing. This is finally giving me a chacne to grieve normally again, which I've been putting off for 6 months.

4.) My book tells me I need to say what I need/want. Even though it's 8 months since Kylie passed (almost), we could still use the things (probably more now than we did then). We could use the offer of a cooked dinner here or there, or a card in the mail, or a message on FB, or a gift card to go out, or the offer of a baby sitter to go somewhere, a drop off of a gallon of milk, fresh veggies, or fresh fruits, or just a stop by to say "hey, I'm checking on you." I love it when people tell me they went to see Kylie and I find surprise gifts at her headstone. Sometimes, it would be nice for someone to offer to take us out separately- Chris needs attention and concern just as much as I do. This is not me mooching off of others, this is simply me telling what we need sometimes. It's so exhausting, this pain, and sometimes we just don't feel like doing anything at all, and cooking can become such a chore. Grief is phsyically, emotionally, and mentally draining, and we have been eating horribly because we can't muster up the energy to cook and fix a meal.

I just don't want people to think we're okay because we "seem" okay. In reality, we are still in ungodly amounts of pain, and we suffer daily. Everything reminds us of Kylie and our loss. The empty nursery, the empty space in the living room where her swing should be, the empty wall in the bedroom for her bassinet. Everything in the world can remind me of her, and the pain, as we haven't even made it to one year yet, is overwhelming still at times. This doesn't mean I need a counselor. This just means I'm normal.

Does any of this make sense?
------------------------------------