Through Good Times and Bad

"I Fiona, take you Derek, as my husband and best friend. I vow to love you unconditionally, to be kind and forgiving, and to be faithful to you always. I will trust and respect you, laugh and cry with you; loving you through good times and bad.  I promise to support you in your hopes and dreams, and to challenge you to love and honour God no matter what may come our way. I give you my hand, my heart, my love, on this day and forevermore."

 

We recently attended the wedding of a friend. It was an absolutely beautiful wedding. As I sat there watching the ceremony, it brought me back to just over two years ago when Derek and I stood in front of God, our family, and friends, and made these commitments to each other.

Just after we lost Brooklyn, I received an email from a mum who also lost her baby girl. She knew Derek from his youth group days. In it she said "You found yourself a wonderful husband. You never imagine walking down the aisle on such a joyous day, that such tragedy could lay ahead." She is absolutely right. As I sat there watching the beautiful bride walk down the aisle, all I could think of was Derek and I two years ago. The innocence we had, and bright future that was ahead of us. 

When we were in the ultrasound room and learned that Brooklyn's heart stopped, I remember crying out "please don't leave me" over and over to Derek. All I could think about was how many marriages end in divorce after the loss of a child. I had just learned about this months before during my last semester of school. Couples who have a child that dies after the twentieth week of pregnancy or soon after labour, are 40% more likely to divorce than a couple who has not walked through this valley. That terrified me in the moment, it still does some days. I had just lost the baby girl that I carried for 39 weeks, had formed a bond with, and had loved entirely; the fear of also losing my husband overwhelmed my soul.

I am beyond blessed to have the amazing husband that I do. He has been my rock and my strength during my darkest days. He has helped me see that there is life after death, and that it is okay to laugh and enjoy things in life, even without our sweet girl. He has also reminded me to grieve and process this mess, and not to shut down and have a heart that hardens. And he continues to encourage me to do things that provide healing. Grief reveals the true character of people, and it has never been more evident to me how amazing of a man Derek is. Don't get me wrong, we have definitely had hard days. Days where we argue and don't see eye to eye on things. We have also learned that we grieve very differently. But that is okay, we are both processing this the best way we know how. And most importantly, we try to process it both individually and as a couple. 

Derek continues to challenge me daily to "love and honour God, no matter what may come our way." And for this, I am thankful. He shows me through his actions what this means and looks like, and how to love other people, even when they do hurtful things. 

Our vows meant a lot to us then, but they take on a whole new meaning now. I wish I could time travel to us two years ago, and tell us what would lie ahead. Remind us to "build into and invest in your relationship with each other, because some days, this will be the only thing that will provide you healing and hope. It may be the only thing that matters some days." 

I refuse to add to the divorce statistic. We both do. We are in this for the long haul. "To laugh and cry with [each other] loving [each other] through good times and bad." No matter how hard we have to fight, we will fight, and we will continue to choose to love each other no matter how we may be feeling.

We know that there may be more hard days that lie ahead, but we also hold onto the hope that better days are coming our way.

Nothing Left Untouched

Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything. ~ CS Lewis


When I used to think about this long road of grief that was before us, I imagined Derek and I walking together with a few close friends and family. I never could have imagined how losing Brooklyn would literally affect every single aspect of our lives.


I am grateful for every single moment I have on this earth, because I am now aware that my life, or the life of those I love, can end at any given time.

Friendships and relationships have been forever altered - both in good and hurtful ways.

While my faith has become stronger, it has also caused me to wrestle through who God really is, why he doesn't stop things like this from happening, and if I really believe he is faithful and true.

My role as a wife has drastically changed. I have never felt so close and connected to Derek. Together we formed a precious life, and we have seen with our eyes how beautiful that little life was. There is just something about seeing your husband hold your daughter for the first time, even with the understanding that you won't get to take her home. 

I used to absolutely love babies - now this causes a great deal of pain. I catch myself glancing inside of strollers and car seats, but instead of smiling, I wonder what Brooklyn would be like these days.

Seeing pregnant women also used to make me smile; knowing they are holding a precious life inside of them. These days it makes me want to tell them not to take for granted the time they have with that baby; because none of us know exactly how long that will be. 

Family has never meant so much to me. I feel like after becoming a mama, I have a deeper understanding of the love our moms and dads have for Derek and I.

I'm not even able to eat some of the same foods or wear some of the same outfits because it reminds me of when I was pregnant with Brooklyn, and causes me a great deal of pain. 

My career path currently has nothing to do with what I went to school for. And my passions and goals for this life have been greatly simplified. 


I really could go on, but I would be spending the rest of my life counting and naming all of the things that have been affected since losing our sweet girl. See the thing about grief is, it leaves nothing left untouched. It rips through lives and hearts like a tornado and completely alters the state of everything in it. Some things are changed for the better, some changes are much harder, but everything is different. Nothing remains the same. And nothing will ever be the way it was meant to be. I am mourning a lifetime of memories and "firsts" that we should be having with Brooklyn.

I still have days where I am able to laugh and enjoy things, but there are many days where I am a complete mess. While know that there will be better days ahead, I need to prepare my heart for the harder days that have yet to come. Even still, I have been able to find comfort and hope in many things.

Whether it's in someone I don't know coming up to me, telling me they follow my blog, and encouraging me to continue writing. Someone saying Brooklyn's name out loud. Getting a message from someone who had a dream of a curly haired little girl laughing in her Daddy's arms. Someone asking about my pregnancy or delivery; helping me to feel like my story is somewhat "normal". Knowing that people go to visit with Brooklyn in her special place. Having a conversation with someone also on this grief journey, where I leaving feeling like they "just get it." Friends playing catch by our daughter's grave on Father's Day. Hearing story after story of people who have also had a stillborn baby, or know someone else who has. Or  learning how many of these people go on to have healthy babies in the future. All of these things have provided me with even just a little bit of healing and hope.

Please continue to pray for us and keep us in your thoughts. People say that "time heals everything." But I am finding that as time goes on, I am grieving even more deeply. I am starting to believe that time in fact does not heal all. Time makes things different, but I know that I will still have days 50 years from now, where my heart aches exactly the way it did on the day we had to say "see you later" to our daughter. There will always be a Brooklyn sized hole in my heart, and nothing will ever change that.

Guest Post: Veggies By The Tree

*Since losing Brooklyn, I have been accessing lots of online resources to help me cope and get through each day. I have been following a couple of blogs and websites specifically for pregnancy and infant loss. These resources have been helpful for normalizing some of the feelings and thoughts I am experiencing. It also helps to know that others out there know what this deep loss feels like. But something I have noticed, is that there are not a lot of resources to help fathers, grandparents, friends, and other people affected by the loss of a precious baby. One of the blog sites I follow, the Mom actually has guest posts once in a while where she gets her mom, sister, husband, and best friend to write something about how the loss of their daughter has affected them. This has been so helpful for me. It has helped me understand that the loss of Brooklyn reaches far beyond just Derek and I. There are many others mourning with us, who need just as much support as we do. 

I have decided to start doing the same thing! I hope this is helpful for other Mama's and is a form of support for grandparents, fathers, siblings, and friends experiencing this kind of loss too. 

The first guest post is from my Mum. She is wonderful, and a beautiful writer. This is a poem she wrote for Brooklyn called "Veggies by the Tree". *

I

Veggies by the tI have been ree 

"It’s definitely not what I thought it would be, 

Brooklyn and Granny and veggies by the tree. 

I dreamed of the time we would spend –you and me 

Watching the veggies while you sat on my knee. 

I gathered the collection of videos and books, 

Awaiting the day that you would take a look. 

I dreamt of being better, better than I was with your Mum 

I imagined you being so excited when it was time to come 

To stay at crazy Grannies house and sing those Jesus songs, 

To laugh and play and ride the trolley and cuddle in my bed, 

I thought of the many things we would do  

As much as would fit in my head. 

But you were much too perfect  

Too perfect for this world 

Jesus cuddles with you now 

My beautiful little girl. 

For now I have to settle for veggies by the tree, 

Brooklyn and Granny – yes just you and me 

Just not the way I wanted it 

But it’s the way it has to be."

Miss you Brookie Love and cuddles Granny

Two Pieces of Paper

Today I graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in Health Studies and a Bachelor of Social Work from McMaster. I've been done since December, but today was the ceremony that officially closed the chapter of my undergraduate degrees.

When I was pregnant with Brooklyn, I was so excited to be able to bring my little girl to the ceremony. I often said to Derek that I would be the only one there with a two month old baby in tow.

After we lost her, I had absolutely no desire to attend my graduation ceremony. I had decided that I wasn't going because it just wouldn't be the same. I also thought that it was pointless. I had a new perspective on life, and to me the degrees were just a couple of pieces of paper. I didn't know what the point was. I am back at Starbucks working at a job that doesn't require 4.5 years of education or thousands of dollars spent. And in all honesty, I'm not sure what my future career path holds for me. Right now though, it does not include social work. And because of that, graduation and the pieces of paper that I worked hard for, didn't hold the weight that they once did.

With the encouragement of my husband and family, I ended up attending today. And I am so glad that I did. Don't get me wrong - it was an extremely difficult day. There was a baby cooing and crying all through the ceremony. I'm sure many people didn't notice, but for me, it made it really hard to sit through those 2.5 hours. The hardest part was that I forgot that there would be people there who were not connected to me on Facebook and did not know about Brooklyn. This meant I would have to answer questions like "Have you had the baby yet?!" and "Where is she?!" This is something I still have not mastered the art of. I am never sure whether to just say, "Yes" and leave it at that, or to say "Yes, but unfortunately we lost her."

But what made today worth going was the realization that I came to. The two degrees that I got really are simply two pieces of paper. I am not putting them into practice right now, and I am not sure if I ever will again.  But my 4.5 years at McMaster wasn't about the degrees. My years spent there were about learning to think critically, forming relationships with both peers and community social workers through my placements, learning how to practice social justice, and shaping and forming the way I view the world and everything in it. It was about the skills, theories, and perspectives I learned that are transferrable to my every day life. And it is one more memory I have of doing something with my baby girl. My last semester of school I was pregnant, and I can clearly remember her moving around inside of me while I was in class and at placement. I am thankful for these memories.

I am a changed person because of my experience in my program and to me, all the money and time spent is well worth this alone.

I am not sure what my future career path holds. Maybe I'll apply for my MSW or Law school. Maybe I will pursue my life long dream of becoming a midwife. Maybe I will stay at Starbucks and make that my passion. Or maybe one day I will be a stay-at-home mama.

But right now, I will be thankful for the experiences and relationships McMaster has given me, and for the person it has shaped me to be. I will take one day at a time, and try to be passionate in all that I do - always remembering my time at McMaster.

Forever Changed

In November of 2011, I started following the journey of a family whose baby was diagnosed with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. May 21st of last year, after a very long fight, baby Hope went home to be with Jesus. I have cried and laughed reading the posts of this mother. I have always been blown away at her strength and deep faith through heartbreaking circumstances. 

Recently, I have been going back to read some of her posts. These posts bring me comfort as I know I am not alone on this journey. While their story of loss is a little bit different than ours, I am comforted to know that they too know what it is like to mourn a lifetime of hopes and dreams they had for their precious baby girl. 


I read a post today where Hope's mom talked about a book she was reading called "A Grace Disguised" by Gerald L. Sittser. She quoted this from his book:

"First of all, it requires a choice on the part of those who want to provide community for suffering friends.  They must be willing to be changed by someone else's loss, though they might not have been directly affected by it.  Good comfort requires empathy, forces adjustments, and sometimes mandates huge sacrifices.  Comforters must be prepared to let the pain of another become their own and so let it transform them.  They will never be the same after that decision.  Their own world will be permanently altered by the presence of one who suffers.  It will bring an end to detachment, control, and convenience.  It will prevent them from ever thinking again that the world is a safe place full of nice people, positive experiences, and favourable circumstances."

The past 9 weeks have been completely life altering for us. But we are so thankful that we have never been alone in this journey. We have had people bring us meals, check in with us constantly, do our gardening for us, clean our house, just sit with us in silence, and people who have said how much the loss of Brooklyn has completely turned their world upside down. 

I have also had conversations with people who just don't understand how devastating this loss is for us. Some people don't even talk about Brooklyn, and pretend like it didn't even happen. And many people continue to have conversations with me where I leave and go "Really? That is your biggest concern in life right now?" Or "Really? You think that is something that matters in this world?" I often feel mean or selfish having these thoughts, but it is so frustrating how people's lives can go on like Brooklyn never really existed. I don't expect for everyone's life to stop and be altered as much as ours has, but I am continually surprised by the people who seem to be forgetting Brooklyn more and more as time goes on. 

I know that it is much easier for people to pretend that life can just continue as it has been, but this is not our reality. I also realize that not everyone needs to be completely changed by this tragedy. And while it is hurtful sometimes, maybe certain people have been affected more than others for a reason. I've also learned to be more gracious with people. I understand that not everyone knows what to say or how to best support us. The loss of Brooklyn is a difficult one, and can be awkward for other people at times. I know that. I get that. But this doesn't seem to take away the hurt.These are just the jumbled thoughts that often swirl through my head these days. 

That being said, there are many many people who have been deeply affected by Brooklyn's life and our loss. People who truly understand that I am not able to talk about certain things, or that I am not able to be a part of certain social situations. People who have completely changed their lives and shifted their priorities because they have made our pain "become their own and let it transform them". Their world has been "permanently altered" like ours has.

Life is different. It always will be. And we are forever thankful for the people who have supported us in any way along this journey. But especially for the ones who have let themselves and their lives be changed by our loss. I understand that this is not an easy thing to do and may hurt like hell for a really long time. I am thankful for the people who have not decided on convenience for themselves, but have made such a big sacrifice to walk along side us in both our joys and deep heartache. 

I find my strength in knowing that Brooklyn's life has altered the way many people live and view the world. I love receiving messages from people who are both close to me, and ones that I barely know who say how much our sweet girl has changed them.

I am so blessed to be the Mama of a baby who has been such a big part of God's redemption story. A seven pound, twelve ounce baby who has forced us and the people around us to be forever changed. 

"Brooke"

My sweet baby girl,

It has been two months since you came into this world. I miss you. I miss you every moment of every day.

The day you were born was one of my favourite days. It is a day I surely will never forget. It is true what they say, no one can ever imagine how much love a mother has, until their child is born. I loved you as soon as Daddy and I found out we were pregnant - even before we knew "who" you were. But the love I felt for you after giving birth is completely indescribable. Holding you, I truly felt like I was holding a piece of Heaven. Like God had given me just a small glimpse of what eternity with Him would feel like.

Your Daddy and I thought you were definitely a boy. I had many dreams in the beginning of my pregnancy, and every time it included a baby girl, but I thought for sure you were a boy. We even only had boy names picked out. I am so glad that we found out you were a girl during my pregnancy. It is hard to describe, but I felt like I knew you on a deeper level. Especially now, I am so glad that we knew for 19 whole weeks that you were a precious baby girl. I had the opportunity to truly know who you were during that time, and for that, I am blessed.

When we found out you were a girl, I was over joyed. I have always wanted a little girl, and was so excited to be given one. I wanted to raise you to be a woman of character. One who cares about people, is kind, and also passionate about all you do. I wanted to teach you to feel okay with who you are in your own skin, and most of all to love God with all of who you are.

But we didn't have any names picked for you! We were so set on you being a boy that we never imagined needing a girl's name. And when we came up with a list, your Daddy and I just couldn't seem to agree. It got to the point where we were arguing about it because we wanted your name to be just right for you. We wanted it to be perfect, and felt like it was a big decision.

And then one day your Daddy suggested "Brooklyn." We had gone on a trip to New York City for our first anniversary, and absolutely loved it. This name was perfect because it reminded us of a place that we loved. And then we realized, a short form for your name is Brooke! It was so perfect! Daddy and I love this singer named Brooke Fraser - she is a woman of God and writes beautiful music. We had lots of her music at our wedding too. It was perfect and we loved it! So we decided to name you Brooklyn.

This decision was solidified when I played Brooke Fraser's music for you when I was pregnant and you always woke up and began to move around inside of me. You liked music in general, but there were certain songs and artists that you danced for more, and she was one of them. I often said your name out loud, "Brooklynnnn!" "Broooooooke," as if I was calling you for dinner. I loved the sound of it. I still do.

We went back and forth for a middle name for you. And actually, when you were born, we still didn't have one picked out! We got it down to two, and ended up deciding on Adelaide. I love the sound of that name too. In high school, Mama went to Burkina Faso on a mission trip two years in a row. It was there that I met a little girl named Adelaide that I fell in love with.

"Brooklyn Adelaide". Perfect.

I hope you are celebrating up in Heaven, Brooke. You would have been two months old today. I wonder where you would be. Would you be opening your eyes more these days? Would you be on a sleep schedule yet? Would you be starting to smile and coo?

Mama and Daddy have been doing okay. We have moments that provide healing, and moments where we feel like we lost you just yesterday. But we desperately miss you. Please know that. And we will always miss you. Forever and always.

I came across this song called "My Name" by a country singer, George Canyon. I had heard it a long time ago, but didn't really think much of it. It is written from the perspective of a baby who was born still like you. It brings me to tears and makes me thankful that we actually knew your name while I was pregnant with you.

"I'm gonna change this world, if I ever get out of here." Just like the song talks about, I had dreams that your life would change this world. And is absolutely has. You have brought so much healing and perspective to so many people, without even taking a single breath on this earth.

I love you so much my sweet baby.

Forever and always,

Mama

Dear Body

Dear body,

Why did you let me down? I trusted you. I trusted you to keep her safe. To keep her healthy, thriving, and growing. I did my part to make sure you were well nourished and taken care of. Why did you not follow through with your end?

How can I ever trust you again? How will I ever be able to get back to the place I was in this picture? Maybe it was innocence, or maybe I was just naive. I thought that that we were in the "safe zone". We had gotten through the first trimester together, and then the 20 week anatomy scan, and then the point of viability - where she could be born and likely survive with medical intervention. I am learning that for Derek and I, there is no safe zone - because you let us down.

How will I ever be able to trust you with carrying another child? You've let me down once, why wouldn't you do it again?

You know I already had trust issues. This has made it even worse. This is one of the only times in my life I was able to feel pure joy and anticipation. One of the only times I have let myself feel this much excitement because "my body won't let me down." You have reminded me why I don't let myself get excited for things; why I protect my heart by downplaying joy and not anticipating the best outcomes.

 "I am young, healthy, and no one in my family has a history of losing babies," I thought. This didn't seem to matter.

You let me down. How can I trust you again?

I Will Not Be Defeated

Last night and today have been really difficult for me. Coming home from our vacation has been much harder than expected. While home is normally a place that brings comfort and security, these days this has not been present. I don't know why, but I thought coming home to an empty house would be easier after being refreshed and getting away. Instead it was harder. Not harder than coming home from the hospital, but definitely harder than times there after.

This morning was a morning I simply didn't want to wake up. I had no energy to get out of bed, and wanted to lie there forever until this storm is over. Thankfully, we have a 75lb furry buddy that needs me, and I was forced to get out of bed to walk and feed him. 

It was the kind of morning where I would burst into tears without any warning, and the smallest thing would set me off. I forced myself to get out to the grocery store to grab a few things, and stopped at McDonald's for a delicious $1 iced coffee (one of the small things I am thankful for today). 

The afternoon started to feel better. I had some delicious California rolls and guacamole for lunch to remind me of happier times on our trip, and sat in the sun reading a book. As I sat in our backyard, I began to feel thankful for this place we have to call our home - even in all of its emptiness. The day was looking better. The sun was shining, I had coffee in my bloodstream, our dog beside me, and a good book in my hand.

Then I came inside and checked the mail.

And then I got that feeling that happens every once in a while - the one where I can't breathe, and then when I catch my breath, every inhale feels increasingly more painful. I received coupons in the mail from the Similac Club. This was something I had signed up for back when the hope and expectation of new life was still present. And there I was, all of the strength I had gained as the day went on was suddenly lost again. I stood there in complete shock. Not knowing whether to cry, scream, laugh, or fall apart. 

The only thing I could think of was running; running as far as I possible could. So I threw on my running clothes and shoes, and ran. I ran and ran as hard as I could. Until breath began to fill my lungs again. Until my body that felt so broken and dead began to feel life again. I ran non-stop until I realized I had gone 3km (which may not seem very far, but is far for someone who has run once in the past 11 months, and gained nearly 30lbs during pregnancy). 

And then I stopped. And I walked home. 

Back home to a place that was still empty and silent, but I was able to handle this because I felt full of life again. 

I will not be defeated by death. 

I will not let losing Brooklyn completely break me. 

I will choose to find life.

I will choose to live my life for her, because she never had the opportunity to live hers here on this Earth. 

I will choose to make her proud in everything I do. 

And I will try to not let things people say or don't say, do or don't do, continue to hurt me. 

I will not be defeated by death, because I have a God who defeated death for me. And while I am still wrestling through my anger with Him, at least I am wrestling. I have not turned away. And I will not let death defeat me.