Happy Bereaved Mothers Day!

A day that I never knew existed until last year is here - Bereaved Mothers Day. You learn a lot when you lose a child. 

And I know some people would question my blog post title, because how can anyone ever put the words happy and bereaved in the same sentence? And yet, even as a bereaved mother, I have a lot to be happy about.

I am happy that I had the opportunity to carry my babies in my womb even if only for a short time.

I am happy that I have a sweet sunshine daughter June Bug who loves and remembers her baby sisters Mikayla and Selah.

I am happy each time I remember Mikayla's kicks, that hot chocolate always made her dance, and I am happy I got to see her face even though it was only a brief moment. Though all these memories are mingled with sadness, there is happiness there, too. 

I am happy that Selah passed peacefully and at home instead of in a cold hospital bed with drama and needles and doctors and nurses. I am happy I had the time to truly say good-bye. Again, I wish the ending could have been different, but if she had to go away so soon, I am glad it happened the way it did.

I am happy that I have a rainbow on the way who will not in any way replace Mikayla or Selah, or make me love or miss them any less, but who will enrich our lives and bring joy to our family.

I am happy that I have a loving heavenly father who knows and understands the pain in my heart and offers His comfort and peace.

I am happy that the same heavenly father is holding and loving my precious babies for me until the day I get to see them again. 

I am happy that through the wonders of the internet I have learned and found other beautiful and courageous mothers who are walking this most difficult of roads alongside me. I am happy we have each other for support and encouragement, and the healing power of a simple, "Me, too!"

So yes, I wish each and every mother who has ever had to say good-bye too soon to her precious child a very Happy (though probably bitter-sweet like so much of life) Bereaved Mother's Day. 

Day 30: First

Day 30 of 31 days of healing. Joining Kate for a 5--minute free-write on the word FIRST

GO:

I have a calendar of June Bug's first year. It is full of colorful stickers of her "firsts." First car ride, first smile, first tooth, first words, first steps. All the way up to first birthday.

This year we celebrated her first day of Kindergarten, first ride on a 2-wheeler, her first book she read by herself, and soon probably the first loose tooth.

There's no sticker for the first breathe. No sticker for first cries, or first movements - those frantic flailings of arms and legs exposed to air instead of amniotic fluid for the first time. No. Those are so taken for granted, they don't even warrant marking.

There are also no stickers for first heaven day, or "crap-versary" as one loss Mama put it. No stickers for the first time someone asks you how many kids you have and you just stare at them and tear up as you debate whether to go into details or just lie.

And even in June Bug's case, there are no stickers for the day you found out your long-awaited and prayed for baby sister went to heaven instead of coming to play with you like everyone said she would.

And so we make our own way. We mark our own days. We make prayer flags in August and light candles in October, and will celebrate Heaven days in April and September. We will forge ahead making memories wherever and however we can, to honor our love for our babies.

Day 8: Little Yellow Duck Feet

Day 8 of 31 days of healing

There is a bag up high on my closet shelf. I put it up there on April 12, 2014 after coming home from a children's clothes swap at church. I have only taken it down once since then, but after reading this article on Still Standing, I decided to get it down again tonight.

Inside there is a little yellow sleeper with frogs and turtles, and a little yellow duck on a turtle's back. There's a green-and-white sleeper with bumblebees. A sweet sleep sack with zoo animals, and an elephant that says "Little peanut," a yellow romper with a bunny rabbit eating a carrot, two pairs of tiny white socks that were so soft I couldn't pass them by. My favorites are a pair of orange, yellow, green, and turquoise striped newborn gloves to keep those tiny razor-nails from scratching a precious little face, and a pair of little white pants with yellow duck faces on the feet.

Mikayla's clothes.

These clothes were lovingly gathered for a baby I didn't yet know was a girl. A baby I didn't yet know would never get to wear any of these things. A baby I never would have dreamed would go to heaven early the next morning, on Palm Sunday.

If I had known, would I have done things differently? Probably not. Well, I would have added in a healthy dose of pink there with the yellows and greens and whites. I might not have taken the practical things like bibs and plain white onesies (which was the reason I took down the bag once before, to send those things to my brother-in-law whose wife is expecting a baby boy any day now. I didn't want to do it, and cried the whole time I was sorting through Mikayla's things, but my husband convinced me, so Mikayla's cousin will get to wear her clothes that she never got a chance to). I might have taken something with me to the hospital when I went to the ER with contractions, so that I could have taken a short while to be Mikayla's mother in some small "normal" way, dressing her and holding her tiny body close to my heart.

But I didn't know.

Now I do. Now, those clothes are incredibly precious to me. They, along with a positive pregnancy test and a single red rose that I dried are the only physical reminders I have that Mikayla ever lived here on Earth. For Selah, I have even less - only the pregnancy test and a blurry photo that no one but me would ever recognize as my baby held on the tip of my finger. But a person's a person, no matter how small.

I pray that God will allow me to put these clothes to good use some day, and Mikayla and Selah can look down from heaven and see a little baby brother or sister with little yellow duck feet, and their Mama smiling as she carries this baby in her arms, and two others in her heart.

Five Minute Friday: Hold

Linking up for five minutes of free-write - come join us!

Prompt of the week -- Hold

GO
I can't wait. I am counting down the days until I get to hold this little life that is growing inside me. I know right now I get to hold this baby in my womb, and I already hold love for this baby in my heart, but the moment I get to hold a squirming bundle in my arms....that is what I dream of (literally!).

I never held Mikayla. That is one of my biggest regrets. I saw her, looked at her briefly, and then the doctor said something about sending "the fetus" for testing in the lab, and despite my heart crying out for my baby girl I couldn't make the words come out of my mouth. So they took her off to the lab, and I never got my chance to hold her in my arms.

Since then I have taken every opportunity I can to hold June Bug. Every night when I send her off to bed, I crawl in with her and just hold her until she falls asleep. I ignore the work that needs to get done, the dishes I should be washing, the emails I need to reply to, and I just hold her while she drifts off to dreams, while she holds her "Baby Sissy Bear".

I dream of another day, too. I dream of the day that my heavenly Father will take me in His arms and hold me and wipe away every tear from my eyes.

STOP

Welcome to the Roller Coaster!

Well, I don't know where to start so I'll just come out and say it: We're expecting! June-Bug and Mikayla will (Lord Willing) be big sisters in May!

The emotions are all. over. the. place. One minute I am elated and so excited I could burst, and the next I am weeping and fearful and over-analyzing every little twinge.

I have decided that the only way to hang on is to take it day by day. Each morning, I am going to wake up and thank God for another day to carry this precious child. If one morning happens to be my last and this rainbow dissolves in more storm clouds, then so be it. I know where my shelter lies, and He is strong enough to see me through any storm that may come my way.

Either way, this baby will get to live; either with me and his/her father and big sister June Bug; or with Jesus and his/her Heavenly father, and big sister Mikayla.

God is good all the time! All the time, God is good!

The Body that Used to be Mine

This is a poem that I wrote when JuneBug was about 2. I decided this was a good topic for Mother's Day.

The Body that Used to be Mine

I look on the body that used to be mine,

The stomach that used to be flat

And firm with flawless skin,

The arms that long ago were thin.

The stomach that used to be flat, 

Now bulging fat and criss-crossed with scars.

The arms that long ago were thin,

Now marshmallow soft, along with the thighs.

Now bulging fat and criss-crossed with scars,

From stretching too far and too fast,

I'm marshmallow soft in the arms and the thighs,

And have deepening circles beneath both my eyes.

In stretching too far and too fast,

My body changed into a home for yours.

The deepening circles beneath my eyes,

Hold memories of 2am lullabies.

My body changed into a home for yours,

and then yours became a home for my heart.

I hold memories of 2am lullabies,

And I'm glad to be pillow-y soft.

When you became a home for my heart,

Then I was born new, as a Mother,

And I am glad to be pillow-y soft

To be a warm nest for my daughter.

As I was born new as a Mother

I found a rich beauty in softness and scars;

To be a warm nest for my daughter,

I gladly give up the body that used to be mine.