Twice this week, TWICE in one week, we were told in two different ways by two different people that they talked with or saw someone who received one of our memory boxes at the hospital. How ironic, don't you think? Twice in one week.
The first message touched my heart so deeply. It was so unexpected, and yet, it was like Kylie was standing there beside me, and that she was in a way, trying to hold my hand to tell me that we ARE making a difference. The words that my "little sister" used to describe the situation took my breath away... that box in that woman's arms will be her most priceless physical possession, I am sure, just like mine is. But then the thought also slammed me... that I HATE the fact that there is still a need for the boxes, that I am so glad we can help provide these boxes, but broken in pieces that families still have to walk out of the hospital with a box instead of their little miracles.
The second message came from my mom last night. Jennifer told her about a family that had lost a baby, and they had told her about the box they received, and in turn Jennifer told her about us and what we have done with the boxes and for parents concerning bereavement groups and such. And when I sat in my mom's living room and she told me last night, it took everything I had to hold back the tears, because again, Kylie is living through these boxes, through me, and through all that we do for others, and I was taken aback at the impact that I just now realized she had.
And with these two instances, I am reminded of that day... the day that I had cried so much I didn't know if I could ever cry again... a day that made me numb and that changed me forever. A day that no parent ever would want to, or should, have to experience. That day, I held my daughter in my arms and watched her slip away to be with our Lord... the day my heart broke beyond healing.
I remember the box being placed in my arms when we left, and being wheeled out of the hospital with a box in my lap, while my daughter was being placed in a beautiful basket, and was taken away from the hospital in a hearse from the funeral home. I remember the searing pain, the desire to be anywhere but in that situation, to turn back time, to fix whatever happened... I remember the agony inside my body as my heart, mind, and soul were at war with each other.
I remember getting home and opening the box, and going through each item as tears poured down my face, wondering why God would ever put me in this position, why He would take away a child who was loved more than any words could ever say, and why He was punishing me by taking her away.
I remember the next night, while sharing her box with some family, reaching in the bottom and finding a little baggie that I didn't realize was in there, and at that moment, losing all self-control, because I had a physical piece of my child that I didn't know I had... a baggie with the tiniest locks of beautiful, perfect brown hair, that Miss Carolyn had taken from the back of her neck and saved for me... and at that moment, the importance of the box became ten times more than I thought, because this box held the last physical piece of my daughter... my only true physical connection. That hair was on her beautiful, round head... that hair was created by me, her daddy, and God. Her hair was proof that she did exist, that she did live, that she was ours.
And then today, her box is still my most priceless physical possession. If anything were to happen to it, I don't know what I would do. And that is why we continue to make boxes for the hospital. This box means so much to me, and I know the comfort and feelings these boxes give to other families. In the end, Kylie lives through these boxes, in giving back to others. Her legacy, her memory, is still alive and strong, and in giving to others, they get a piece of her spirit.
So, that is why we do it. We do it because we know how important these boxes are to families, because we are a recipient of one ourselves. We do it because Kylie would want us to keep on helping others. My life's mission, in her memory, is to help parents who have suffered a loss of a baby through infant loss, pregnancy loss, etc.
This week, Kylie showed me, through two special instances, that she is proud of us and what we are doing in her memory. She reminded me that it doesn't go unnoticed, and that it means more than we remember sometimes.
Thank you, sweet angel, for being mine. Thank you for showing me your kind heart and loving spirit in everything that we do. Thank you for reminding me to keep going, even if it is hard, and thank you for showing yourself to me when I need it most. You are truly a beautiful child, and I could not be more proud to be your mommy. God definitely broke the mold when He made you, and there will never be another YOU ever, ever again. You are perfection, as are my other girls, and I am forever BLESSED because I carried you within my womb, birthed you, loved you on Earth for two weeks, and love you across Heaven and Earth for eternity. You are my own special guardian angel, and for that, I am grateful. I love you more than I could ever tell you, and I miss you just as much. <3 are="are" being="being" brielle="brielle" for="for" girl.="girl." keith="keith" kylie="kylie" little="little" mine.="mine." nbsp="nbsp" one="one" p="p" special="special" thank="thank" very="very" you="you">
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