Kaitlyn's Birthday

9.18.14

       I opened my eyes and the sun was whispering through the blinds in our bedroom. Alex was already up and in the living room, and had kindly shut the door on his way out that morning.
       Nearly the second I opened my eyes, I started crying. At first, it was a quiet cry. The kind that nobody knows is happening, but then it started to build.
       I didn't mean to be loud, but somehow Alex heard me in the living room through a shut door. I cried and cried and cried as I looked at the urn that had sat on my nightstand for the past year. Alex came in and didn't say a word, but laid down with me and circled his body around mine. We just laid there for 20 minutes as I cried and couldn't say anything.
        It hurt. It hurt to think about where we were a year ago. It hurt to think about how excited we had been that morning on our way to the hospital and how all I kept saying was how excited I was to meet her. How thankful I had been that Alex had made it home from Afghanistan. It hurt to have the images of her still heart flash in my mind without any prompting.
        It hurt.

        Alex laid with me for a while longer before he eventually got up and started putting on his scrubs to go to work.
        "Are you going to be okay?" he asked me before he left.
        "Yeah, it just is what it is," I told him. I had planned to spend the day writing and drinking decaf coffee at our dining table.
         Little did I know that not 5 minutes after Alex had left, I would get a text from him.
         "I didn't even make it to the first light before I started crying," he said.
         The problem was, my phone was on silent from the night before and I didn't get the text. After a few minutes of me not answering, he ended up calling my work phone which was not on silent. I was little irked that somebody was calling me, but I went to look and see who it was.
         When I answered, Alex asked me in his calm-but-upset voice, "Of all the day to not answer your phone, can we please communicate better today?"
           At that point, I finally read his text.
          "You don't have to go to work, Alex," I had assured him. Luckily, Alex works for an office where everyone knew us when we lost Kaitlyn, so there was no explanation needed. They would understand if he just didn't show up, and they would give us both the grace we needed to mourn our daughter.
           "Just don't go," I urged him. "Come back home, we can go do things that will make the day pass."
           "I just need to drive around," he told me. And that's what he did. For the next hour, Alex just drove.
            After some time, I sent him a text just to check on him and make sure he was okay. He told me he was fine, but that he wanted to go get a haircut and he wanted to know if I would go with him. I met him in the front yard with no makeup and a sweatshirt on.
            I watched at the barber shop as they cut his hair and the dark pieces fell on the floor. His hair is jet black and very thick, and as I stared absently at the pieces on the floor I was reminded of Kaitlyn's dark hair that the nurses had cut locks of and pasted on a piece of paper for us. They had done it with a glue stick and at some point the pieces had started to fall off. I had eventually dropped some mod podge over the ends so that it would stay on the paper better.
            Sometimes when I was sad, I would get the paper out and run my fingers over that hair. Jet black and thick strands, stuck just below a stamp of her footprints. There was some poem on it that I didn't really care enough to memorize, and the nurses had made three copies of it with locks of hair on each of them.
            They could have taken all of her hair and given it to me, and it wouldn't have been enough. She could have left the hospital with a buzz cut and it wouldn't have bothered me one bit. Because that's part of her story. Her hair was such a huge part of her story because I knew that she would come out practically with pigtails because of the heartburn I had suffered.

             We didn't do much the rest of the afternoon. We just stayed with each other and didn't talk about it.
              The one thing I had wanted to do was for Alex and I to take these Chinese lanterns I had found online out and send them off after it got dark. We had scoped out this park just up from our house that had a nice little pond on it, and in my head I envisioned the two of us lighting the lanterns and watching them float up above the water and their reflections fading over the water as they rose in the night.
              Real life rarely happens the way you expect it to, so of course it was a bit windy that night and we struggled to get (and keep) the lanterns lit long enough to get them to rise. But the good news is that we got so tickled at the wind that we ended up laughing quite a bit as we attempted to release the lanterns.

      We sent off two lanterns that night, one hot pink (of course) and one white.

      The summer I had been pregnant with Kaitlyn, I listened to the radio quite a bit while I was driving around for work. There was one song that kept coming on that was by the band Phillip Phillips, and at first I hated it. I thought it was morbid. But like most things that I try to resist, after I had heard it about 15 times I decided that I really liked the beat and the lyrics weren't awful. So I use to sing it to Kaitlyn while we would drive around, and as the part where "like a drum" would play, I would pat on my belly to help her feel the beat (which was almost always recognized with a good hard rub on my rib cage by the top of her head).
      As we watched the lanterns float off in the darkness, I couldn't help but have that song play in my head.

Gone, Gone, Gone

by Phillip Phillips

When life leaves you high and dry

I'll be at your door tonight

if you need help

if you need help

I'll shut down the city lights

I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bribe

to make you well

to make you well

When enemies are at your door

I'll carry you away from war

if you need help

if you need help

Your hope dangling by a string

I'll share in your suffering

to make you well

to make you well

Give me reason to believe

that you would do the same for me

And I would do it for you, for you

Baby, I'm not moving on

I'll love you long after you're gone

For you, for you

You will never sleep alone

I'll love you long after you go

And long after you're gone, gone, gone

When you fall like a statue

I'm gon' be there to catch

put you on your feet

you on your feet

And if your well is empty

not a thing will prevent me

tell me what you need,

what do you need?

I surrender honestly

You've always done the same for me

And I would do it for you, for you

Baby, I'm not moving on

I'll love you long after you're gone

for you, for you

You will never sleep alone

I'll love you long after you go

And long after you're gone, gone, gone

You're my backbone

You're my cornerstone

You're my crutch when my legs stop moving

You're my head start

You're my rugged heart

You're the pulse that I've always needed.

Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating

Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating

Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating

Like a drum, my heart never stops beating

For you, for you

Baby, I'm not moving on

I'll love you long after you're gone

for you, for you

You will never sleep alone

I'll love you long after you go.

And long after you're gone, gone, gone

Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating

Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating

Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating

Like a drum, my heart never stops beating for you.

And long after you're gone, gone, gone

I'll love you long after you're gone

gone

gone...

The Day before

9.17.14

      The grief was palpable. I had made an appointment with Kate for the morning before Kaitlyn's birthday. I didn't know what the actual day would bring, and I didn't want to force myself to get out of the house if I needed to just lay in bed all day. So the morning before, I headed out to Kate's office.
      On the way, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I didn't actually cry on the way, but as soon as I went up the stairs and found myself on that familiar couch, I couldn't hold them back anymore.
       "I don't want it to have been a year," I told her through the tears falling down my face. "Its too long. It seems like forever, but at the same time all of the memories are back and strong and I can't make them quit replaying in my head. How do I make them stop?" I begged her for relief.
         Kate slowly shook her head, "You have to feel this one. You have to let your grief be what it needs to be right now."
         "I feel selfish. I should be happy that I'm pregnant. I should be able to celebrate the life that I am carrying right now."
          "Even when you have two living children, you'll find that there are times when one child needs more attention than the other one," Kate said. "This is the time that Kaitlyn needs more attention that this baby, and that's okay. It's not favoring one child over the other, it's just giving each one what they need in the time that they need it."
          "I'm miserable," I continued to confess.
          "This was the first year that I didn't stop functioning completely on Piper's birthday," Kate told me. "Every year up until now I have needed to just stop. To grieve well and to grieve hard and privately."
           "How long did it take you to get there?" I asked.
           "Three years," she said quietly. "It has been three years this year."\

           Almost two year ago, we had heard the testimony of a man at our church who had lost his wife and three kids in a horrific car accident. Little did we know that Mike's story of loss would help us in our own grief, and in the few weeks after losing Kaitlyn we happen to run into him at church when I was picking up a book for a Bible study I had decided to do.
           In that conversation, Mike warned us about what the anniversary would bring this year. He told us that everyone in his family and his wife's family grieved differently, and that we needed to be understanding of the different facets of grief.
           "Some people want to work the day of," he had told us in the lobby of the church. "Other people need to take a few days off and remember. For me, I wanted to work through it and it was always the build up of the day that was worse than the actual day. After it was over, I could do a big sigh of relief. Other people, they wanted to have some kind of 'official' mourning thing and I just couldn't do it. So just remember that in a year."

            "Alex is working tomorrow," I told Kate. "I don't know how I feel about it, to be honest."
            "Let him work through his own stuff. He compartmentalizes a lot of things because that is his training as a soldier. That's okay. Just give him grace and let his grief look the way it needs to," she advised.
         
              Our session came to a close. I started crying again and told Kate thank you for everything she had helped me with. Honestly, I don't know how my grief would have looked without her help.
              "It has been a joy," she said with passion. "You are doing so well, even though you don't feel like it right now."
              "I feel awful," I laughed through the tears again. "I so appreciate you sharing Piper with me, and allowing me to just sit and listen to your story that first day. It helped me more than you will ever realize."
              "It helps me," she said quietly. "It helps me with my own grief."
               It was then I realized, I was following in Kate's footsteps in my own way. All of the grief education and Hope Boxes that I had done over the last year, it was my grief and my honoring Kaitlyn. Kate's calling to honor Piper was to help others by sharing her story as well as listening to theirs.

               I left Kate's office feeling better, but also feeling heavy. I dreaded the next day. I ran a few errands and then went to the house to enjoy the quite for a little while.
               That night, I cried myself to sleep knowing what the next day would bring.
         

The suspense

9.14.14-9.15.14

     The next few days were unbearable. I could see the train coming and there was literally nothing I could do about it but dread its arrival.
      I had decided a long time ago that I wouldn't be working on Kaitlyn's birthday for a few years (at least). Since it fell on a Thursday this year, I knew I would want off the day before because I would be anticipating the day and then it seemed silly to take off Wednesday and Thursday without taking Friday off, so I took that off too.
      On Monday, I went to work at one of my accounts and told them that I would be out the second half of the week.
       "Oh that's nice! I hope you have something fun planned!" said one person.
       Not exactly, and I didn't bother correcting them to tell them why I was off in the first place.

       Monday night, Elyse had planned our monthly Hope Mommies dinner in Richardson and I was glad to have the distraction to go. There were 10 girls that showed up that night, and 4 of them were new to the group.
        We usually start off with going around the table and telling our stories. Its such a great way for us to honor our babies and talk about them, but to also remind each other that we know there is hope for us to see them again.
         As we wait for people to arrive, we tell shortened, clipped versions of our stories. As I mentioned Kaitlyn's name, one of the new mom's stopped me and said, "OH! You're Kaitlyn's mom? I got one of your boxes."
         That was one of the best things anyone could have said to me that week- that I am Kaitlyn's mom. Yes, I am Kaitlyn's mom. And this baby's mom.
 
         I started off by telling Kaitlyn's story. I warned them that I would probably cry telling it because it was so close to our one year anniversary, but as I let the familiar words pour out of my mouth it just became storytelling again. Sometimes, I feel like the whole experience was just a dream and none of it really happened. I only stopped once as my voice caught in my throat, but then I continued to tell the story as I always had.
         We went around the table and I soon discovered that Elyse and I were the "senior" Hope Moms at this dinner. We were both approaching our one year anniversary, and everyone else was less than a year from their loss. Some of the moms were as recent as 6 weeks.

         After we finished dinner, I was thankful that I had met this group of ladies and we had committed to meeting together once a month. I was glad for the excuse to get out of the house, and I was glad that I was able to share Kaitlyn's story again with women who understood so well the pain of that loss.
          I was glad that I was surrounded by four women that night who had all received Hope Boxes that I had either shipped to them or left at hospitals. I was thankful that at the beginning of the hardest week this year, God had used them to remind me that there was still purpose to be seen.
       

Mom's birthday

9.13.14

     I dreaded this day. Not to be melodramatic, but I dreaded this day.
     So much happened on my Mom's birthday the year before. We had all been super excited because Alex was making his way home from Afghanistan and Kaitlyn's arrival was just on the horizon.
      I dreaded this day because it meant that Kaitlyn's birthday was just 5 days away.
 
      Every day that inched closer to the 18th was another day that I relived everything I had been doing the year before. September 13th, 2013 fell on a Friday (my Mom is use to having Friday the 13th birthdays) and I had gone to work that day. But I remember I felt off. I didn't feel well at all. In hindsight, I think I was having contractions, but it doesn't really matter now.
      I had come home from work ready (sort of) to celebrate my mom's birthday. My Dad had come into town to be with us, and the three of us went to a nice steak restaurant about 15 minutes away from the house.
      I remember the exact table we were sitting at, and that my mom and dad were sitting across the table from me. I kept saying that I didn't feel well, and Mom kept asking if I thought I was in labor. She was excited because that meant that she would have a granddaughter share her birthday, just like her mom and my cousin do.
      She asked me a few times if I thought I needed to go to the hospital, but I was never in pain so I never thought it was contractions. I just thought I was tired, or it was false labor, or just plain stress because I didn't know where Alex was at this point.
     
       Later that night, we knew that Alex would be arriving at 11:30 at the DFW airport. Chad and Jenny had come over and we all made signs to welcome him back into the states, and then we all loaded up in my parent's car and headed out. I was driving, and I actually ended up getting pulled over because I was flying down the highway at about 85 mph because I was so excited.
       I remember the absolute joy and relief of seeing Alex again. He was here, we could have a baby now. All of my ill feelings from earlier in the day completely went away once he was here. I could finally relax, everything was going to be fine.
       We've been through two deployments in our marriage, and I use to think to myself that you never really understand trusting God until you send your husband overseas. There is absolutely nothing that I could do to help him or keep him safe while he served our country. I had no control. I had no say in how much he was given to eat or how many hours he was able to sleep. I couldn't tell him that I was uncomfortable with them flying because the weather was bad or that there was gunfire in the area. The days and nights from the US to Afghanistan are nearly completely reversed, so we got into a routine of knowing when the other person would be available to talk between work and sleep, which was usually only a few hours in the morning and a few more at night.
        I use to think that I knew what trusting God with our loved ones was all about, and in a way, I did. But God was also going to show me what trusting Him with the ones we won't see again on this earth was really about.

The Nursery

9.11.14

     Every day we inched closer to the anniversary of Kaitlyn I felt the grief start coming in waves. It would catch me off guard where all of a sudden I was reliving the details of that day from start to finish.
     Kaitlyn's nursery had pretty much stayed untouched for the majority of the year. The exception would be that every now and then I would go into her room and look through the drawers of untouched clothes that had been prewashed and folded neatly to be welcome its new inhabitant. I had started the box of Kaitlyn things, but it held very few outfits as she never wore any of them.
     Alex and I had decided to get new carpet because the carpet throughout our house was the original that was beyond gross. It seemed like a great idea to get this taken care of before the baby gets here, but I didn't take into consideration that when you get new carpet, you have to clean out everything that is on the floor in every room.
     That included the nursery.
     Now, Alex is one of those people who believes in less is more. I, on the other hand, prefer to be completely prepared with multiple sets of everything just in case one goes bad. It makes for a very interesting living arrangement.
     Thursday it was all of a sudden time to clean out everything in the nursery, including the closet. I didn't realize it was happening until half of the contents of the closet were all of a sudden laid out in the kitchen and Alex was asking me why we had so many dang baby carriers.
     "I didn't know which one I would end up liking!" I protested to him when he tried to convince me to narrow it down to one. "And I still don't, so I think I should get to keep them all!"
      That argument didn't fly when he found the three complete pack-n-plays that I had stashed between the guest closet and the nursery closet.
      "One. You need one," he told me.
       At that point, I started crying. It wasn't because of anything Alex said, it was just that realization that I was a really over-prepared mom.
       "Why are you crying?" he asked me gently, afraid that he had hurt my feelings.
       "I am a good mom... I would have been a good mom. Look at all this stuff that I was hoarding in order to take care of her," I said between tears.
       "Of course you're a good mom," he replied.

       Eventually, we made it through all of the things in the nursery. Once the carpet was installed, we decided to rearrange some things to make it a little different for this baby than it was for Kaitlyn. In the end, it was good to purge some of the excess and focus on the things that were really needed for our new addition.

The new normal

9.3.14

     Even in the midst of my sadness, I still had a little one to take care of. At this point, I was grateful that I wouldn't have our second baby here on Kaitlyn's birthday. I felt like it would be harder for me to grieve the way I know I would need to on that day if I were preoccupied with another child.
     When I hit 30 weeks, Dr. B decided that we would start doing Non-Stress Tests (NST) in the office, which is where they hooked me up to two monitors: one for contractions and one for the baby's heart rate. The MA lead me back to a room that was in a "U" shape that contained two dark green recliners in each leg of the "U", each complimented by its own machine to monitor the test.
      For this appointment, I had already seen the baby's heart rate on a sonogram and Dr. B had listened for a minute using a doppler in one of the exam rooms. It was there, when she heard a certain "swoosh" she said, "See, that's the baby moving!" I told her that I had a hard time feeling the movements sometimes, and particularly that day I hadn't felt the baby move much.
      "Okay, let's go ahead and hook you up to a NST. If we don't, you'll probably just go home and worry." So, off I went to the U room and waited to get hooked up to the machine.
       To be honest, I could have laid in that chair all day and listened to this baby's heart beat. It was so comforting just to hear that constant gallop and to hear the swooshes that meant the baby was moving.
       But then, while I sat alone in the room with nothing really to look at but a blank wall, the heart beat stopped.

        It was a sudden stop. I knew that that could only be associated with a roll or a movement of the baby's back away from the probe, but it made my pulse quicken. I started to feel sick because all of a sudden there was the absence of a heart beat on this monitor. I started to talk myself down, "It's okay. You just heard the heart beat on the doppler. You just saw the heart beat on the sonogram. It's okay."

        After a minute of the silence and waiting for the baby to roll back over, I gave up and started moving the probe myself to try to find the heart rate. Eventually, I found the faint noise and pushed the probe into my belly a little further to get a stronger sound.
        It was fine. The heart beat was in the same rate range as it had been earlier, but at that moment I decided I hated NSTs. I felt like I was going to worry more by having to lay here and listen to the heart beat and be the only one in the room. Plus, I hated not having a way to call someone if I felt like the heart rate changed or if there was a sufficient lack of movement.
        But this was the new normal; I would be hooked up to that monitor once a week for the remainder of the pregnancy just to be sure that everything was okay. Because that's how the health care world works. You do the tests to make sure everything is okay because it allows them to "do" something. More monitoring means they are safer. More monitoring means everything is under control...