Not "Just" Milestones

Tomorrow is the 15th. That means that Aubrey has been safe in our arms for 7 whole months. I honestly do not know where the time has gone. I feel like I blinked and summer went by.

Our lives have been forever changed by this sweet girl. She makes our lives brighter, our patience stronger, and our hearts more full.

"Time heals all things." Is a very popular saying. I'm not sure if the person who first said this lived a very sheltered life, where they never encountered any sort of pain or grief, but this has certainly not been the case for me. I wish I could tell this person that yes "time changes many things," but it can't always completely heal them. That is not to say that Aubrey's life has not mended parts of me that I thought were broken forever. But there are certainly parts of me that will forever be empty. Though it doesn't make sense when I have a living child, there will be times when my arms will still feel so very empty. And they still do sometimes.  These feelings have changed as time has gone on, but the longing I have for my first baby girl is still very much present. I still have yet to go a whole day without thinking of Brooklyn, though she is not always on the forefront of my mind anymore as Aubrey's daily needs demand lots of attention sometimes. Who am I kidding... most of the time.

I feel like in the past month, Aubs has grown and changed so much. She is now officially doing the "army crawl" to scoot around the floor, eating three "meals" a day (though still small meals), saying "mama" and "dada" just in the past week, and her little personality seems to form more and more every day. She really is such a sweet girl - though fiery and stubborn at times. I really do believe she will make the world a better place with both kindness and determination some day - actually, she already has.

All of these milestones are so exciting for us. I am sure they are exciting for anyone who has the privilege of parenting a living child for the first time, but for me, these milestones are a constant reminder of how blessed I am to watch this second born of mine grow.

Oh how I wish I could watch Brooklyn try to figure out how to crawl, or feel the same joy I felt when Aubrey first said "mama". These aren't just milestones to me. They never will be. On Aubrey's first day of kindergarten , when she graduates high school, when (and if she decides) to walk down the aisle, when (and if she decides) to have a child of her own some day - all of these things will be extra special to us.

Of course these stages sometimes bring sadness, as I wish I had the privilege of watching Brooklyn go through all of these milestones as well. But there is also an unexplainable joy that comes from watching Aubs go through them. Such a fine line we walk of grief and joy. There was a time last year when I wondered if I would ever be able to watch a child of my own do any of these things. And now here she is, our little rainbow baby who brings us joy even on our darkest days.

My heart will forever be longing for my firstborn, but loving our second that much more deeply.

Another 5th

Around noon today, I realized I had been more emotional than usual, and was feeling physically and emotionally drained. We just got back from a trip to Saskatchewan to spend some time with Derek's family, so I just chalked it up to travelling and the time change catching up with me.

Then I realized today is the 5th. It has been 16 months since I last held my firstborn baby. I can still remember her sweet smell, and how round her big chubby cheeks were. Aubrey has the same cheeks that Brooklyn did, and sometimes when I kiss them, I feel like I'm right back in the moment when I kissed our girl goodbye, and felt her cold but soft cheeks on my lips. I would give almost anything to go back to that moment.

I wrote quite a few blog entires about how difficult being pregnant after losing Brooklyn was. Something I quickly realized once Aubrey was here, was that the difficulties weren't yet over.

Being pregnant after losing a child was extremely difficult, but parenting after loss has proven to be one of the hardest things I have ever done. In a lot of ways, way more difficult than being pregnant.

The day Aubrey was born, I was changing her diaper for the very first time. She spat up and started choking on her spit up, and then started to go blue. I pulled the emergency cord out of the wall and all of the nurses came rushing in. One nurse (who is actually a mutual friend) grabbed Aubrey out of my hands and rushed her off to the nursery. It was the scariest moment of my life. I had just delivered our living breathing miracle, and now I was sure we were going to lose her. She ended up being okay after they suctioned her, but Derek and I remained extremely nervous for a really long time after that. The first few days we had her home, I'm sure neither of us got any sleep because we were so nervous that the same thing would happen again.

And it actually did, when she was 5 weeks old, in the middle of the night she started choking on spit up again. She didn't go blue, but was lethargic and wouldn't open her eyes. We called 911 and went to Mac. Again she was fine, but another scary moment for us.

While we are more relaxed now, there are many things that are just plain difficult for us as we are parenting for the first time after losing our child. We invested in a video monitor for peace of mind once Aubrey started sleeping in her own room. This was a big step for me. I even cried that day, but knew that for Aubrey, Derek and I, it was the best decision. I often still find myself checking the video monitor to make sure her little back is rising up and down.

Even though she is a happy and healthy almost 6 month old little girl, the fear of losing her will always be in the back of my mind. Derek and I are very aware of our anxieties and fears, and have vowed to not be parents who place her in a bubble. We want her to be able to explore and figure out this world, even though at times it will be really difficult for us to let her do this. The thought of her getting hurt or working through disappointments in life already makes me tear up.

We know that for anyone who is parenting for the first time, so many things are new and scary. This has definitely been the case for us, and in many ways has been amplified by the loss of our Brooke.

We continue to be thankful for the many people who surround and encourage us through this parenting after loss journey. We're blessed to have other parents who are fumbling through parenting along side us, and the veteran parents who have been through it, are on the other side, and are cheering us on and giving advice.

My advice to any pregnant or new parents is to surround yourself with these people too. Parenting is the hardest and most important job you will ever do. It can be made just a little easier if we love and support each other along the way. 

Tiny Baby Clothes

As I sit here, on a Saturday night at just 10pm, folding laundry and unwinding from a busy day, I am overwhelmed with just how blessed I really am.

I remember so vividly how excited I was to be washing, drying, and folding tiny little pieces of clothing after our baby showers we had to celebrate Brooklyn. All of the cute girly clothes, receiving blankets, socks, towels and washcloths all folded perfectly and put away in preparation for our sweet baby. Once we lost her, I had a really hard time looking at all of those outfits baby items, knowing how much I had prepared for her arrival, and how I would never get to enjoy seeing her dressed up or using any of what I had washed.

Towards the end of my pregnancy with Aubs, I think I only did two loads of laundry. It took me a long time to work up the courage to do this - mostly because I was scared. So very scared that I would spend time, energy, and emotions preparing all of these "things" for her, only to be disappointed again. Still, I did the few loads of laundry I had, and hoped and prayed for a different outcome.

Anyone who's had a newborn knows just how much laundry you do in the first few months of their life. Something that was fun and exciting in preparation for Brooklyn, and then difficult and emotional while preparing for Aubs - quickly turned into just another mundane task that I have done many many times since Aubrey's safe arrival.

But as I sit here tonight folding tiny baby clothes, I found myself overwhelmed with emotion. My eyes started to swell with tears, as I remembered those times that I washed items for Aubrey, not knowing if she would ever get to use them. Before they were just items that helped hope. Now they hold memories of things I have been able to see Aubrey do, and experiences we have had with her. Her laundry isn't just laundry, but hope that was fulfilled in the form of a 7lb 9oz baby girl.

She is here, and she is safe. Sometimes I forget that just over 5 months ago, I wasn't so sure this would be the case.

It's often the things that seem the most mundane that remind me just how blessed I am. A great reminder to me that it is such a privilege to be able to do these little daily tasks for her that "just need to be done." The time it takes to nurse her, schedule outings around nap times (even when it seems inconvenient), washing and sanitizing her toys, and the tiny baby clothes that I have the privilege of folding.

Tonight, for the first time in a little while, I am reminded of how very thankful I am for Aubrey's life and health, and the joy that she brings us. 

One Less

June 22nd marked one full year since we found out we were pregnant with Aubs. One year since we began the very scary and complicated pregnancy after loss journey. I remember so clearly the Sunday morning I took the test. It was the day after a friends' wedding, where feelings of grief hit me very hard when the parents of the bride gave their speech. So many emotions came as a result of those two pink lines, but mostly just relief that we were able to get pregnant again. One of my fears after losing Brooklyn was that we would struggle to get pregnant again. When June 22nd came this year, it felt so surreal that a whole year had passed. Some days I still can't believe that Aubrey is here safe. I spent so much time worrying about her arrival, and now my entire life revolves around tiny person.

Aubs is now 4.5 months old. I feel like she changes and learns new things every day now. Most recently she learned to flip from her back to her tummy. Her new favourite thing is to flip over and over again from back to tummy and tummy to back. It makes diaper changes a little bit more challenging. It's so fun to see how proud of herself she is when she learns something new. She has also been so interested in our drinks lately. She grabs at our cups and tries to put them in her mouth. Recently I started giving her tiny bits of water in her sippy cup to see if she liked it. It only took her a day to catch on! I know everyone thinks their child is so smart, but she really is such a bright little girl. I love her to pieces and can't wait to see the impact she makes on this world.

Last week Derek and I were driving around in Dundas because Aubrey fell asleep in the car and we wanted to let her finish her nap before getting home. We drove through Grove Cemetery where Brooklyn is buried but didn't stop for fear of Aubrey waking. I haven't been there to visit in a long time and I began to feel really guilty.

Before having Aubrey I was afraid that my love for her would change my love for Brooklyn. In some ways it has. Almost all of my time is devoted to making sure Aubrey is fed, clean, sleeping, learning, growing, happy, etc. When she is napping or sleeping for the night, I try to get things done around the house, leaving little time for much else in my life. What hasn't changed, is the fact that I think about Brooklyn every single day. I think about her when Aubrey's big blue eyes light up, and when she lets out a big belly laugh. I still wonder what colour eyes Brooklyn had, and what her sweet laugh would have sounded like. The joy is always mixed with the longing for my firstborn.

I've said it before, but recently I have really been mourning the fact that Brooklyn and Aubrey will never have a sister relationship here on this earth. When I see pictures of sisters together, I always think of Brooklyn. Even if we were to have another daughter one day, it just won't be the same.

A friend of my mom's took family pictures for us recently. They turned out really great, and we even included our Brooklyn bear in some of them. But looking through the pictures, I found myself getting sad and teary-eyed. Our family pictures will always be missing one person. And our family will always be one less than it should be. I was struck by this a lot when we were at our friends' daughter's first birthday party this past week. She texted me that morning saying that she was sad the party would be missing one little person. Knowing others love and miss her too helps soothe my aching heart just a little bit. And knowing that this friend anticipated my heart would be especially missing my girl that day helped validate how I was already feeling.

I used to feel guilty for feeling this way. Almost like if I missed Brooklyn, it meant I wasn't grateful for Aubrey. What I've come to realize is that it's okay and actually healthy to hold both feelings simultaneously. I love both of my girls, and because Aubrey is physically here, I'm able to show her my love by hugging her and kissing her and making sure she is safe. Part of the way my love for Brooklyn comes through is when I miss her.

I talk to Aubrey about her sister a lot. I tell her that she looks like her sissy, and read her a story called "Someone Came Before You", where I replace the words "baby" with "Brooklyn" to personalize it. Even in her absence, Brooklyn will always be such a big part of our family.

I'm excited for the day she starts asking about her pictures and things we have placed around the house to remember her. I'm excited for the day she can say Brooklyn's name. But I'm most excited for the day that our entire family can be reunited, and we are no longer one less.

When Grief Creeps In

Things around here have been going really well lately. Aubrey is 3.5 months old, is sleeping really well most nights, she's catching on to this nap training thing, and has become a much happier baby than she once was. She still has her fussy moments, but she is very smiley and has such a bright personality.

In two more days, Brooklyn should be turning 14 months old. I remember when we first lost her, a mum who had been on a similar journey told me that one day she would no longer be the first thing I thought of when I woke up in the morning. I didn't believe her then, but that is the point I'm now at in this grieving process. I've still yet to get through a full day without thinking of her at least once, though.

I miss her a lot lately. I have missed her since we lost her, but this longing is different. It's the kind you can feel in your bones. The kind that hurts your heart and makes your arms ache even though they seem full. Grief comes in waves. Very messy, complicated waves.

Many people have made this longing a bit easier lately. We've received cards and presents in the mail addressed to Derek, Brooklyn, Aubrey and I. A friend sent me the new-ish Hillsong song "Even When It Hurts" because it made her think of me and our journey of loss. If you have ever experience any kind of loss and are a believer, I highly recommend you listen to this song. Last week at church someone who had yet to meet Aubrey in person told me that she is "just as beautiful as Brooklyn." It feels good just to even hear her name coming from someone else's mouth sometimes. We appreciate the recognition that she existed, and will always have a special place in our heart and in our lives helps on the days when grief hits hard.

The past few months, I have heard more and more stories of people losing their babies. A friend of a friend lost her sweet baby boy at 20 weeks gestation. A friend from university texted me and asked for resources for her  cousin who lost her sweet baby while she was in labour - a story similar to ours. And a friend's co-worker lost her sweet girl at full term.

It has been an honour to come along side some of these people and support them through their losses, though I wish so badly there no one had to experience the loss of a child. My heart aches for every single one of these families, as I know the long journey that is ahead of them because I'm still on the journey myself. The kind of journey that will never end as long as we are living. It still just doesn't feel right that things like this happen. I'm not sure I will ever get to a place where I have the attitude of "sometimes bad things just happen..." Obviously I know things like that happen way too often than I like to think, but it still just isn't right.

I've had lots of moments lately where I feel overwhelmed with grief, and go right back in my mind to the time we found out we lost Brooklyn. Before "19 Kids and Counting" was cancelled, they aired their daughter Jill's birth story. Her labour was long - 70 hours, and it ended with an emergency C-section because there was meconium in her water, the baby's heart rate was elevated and he was in distress. They mentioned in the episode that Jill was born May 17, 1991 (my birthday) and her baby boy was born April 6th (Brooklyn was born the 5th.) This story is far too similar to ours. The one difference was their outcome resulted in the birth of a healthy boy. The whole time I was watching the episode, I felt like I was right back in the delivery room with Brooklyn. I actually cried lots of tears of joy when they safely got her baby out. That should have been how it was for us too. It should be how it is for everyone.

I've continued to have people ask me when we think we'll start trying for another baby. I just keep telling people that yes we would like to have more, but we're not sure when. This is the absolute truth. But there's another part to it. Even though we have now had a pregnancy that ended in a healthy living baby, the thought of another pregnancy is terrifying to me. Medical professionals told us all through our pregnancy with Aubrey that baby loss can happen to absolutely anyone at any time. It feels like because this happened to us once that we should be guaranteed to never have to go through it again. Unfortunately this isn't the case.

I got together with some friends who are pregnant a couple weeks ago, and we were talking about how terrifying pregnancy is. All of the unknowns and new things your body goes through. The questioning of whether symptoms or lack thereof are "normal". So many things are just scary during this time. For me, there are all of these things, plus the added reality of knowing that not all pregnancies end happily with a baby in your arms.

Despite this fear, yes we would love to have more kids one day. We're just not sure when. For now, we're loving all of the firsts we are getting to experience with our little Aubs.

I'm loving that she is so smiley and laughs often. She is forming her little personality and we are seeing bits of Derek and I come out in her. She becomes frustrated when she can't do things right away, which is very much like me. And unfortunately is a fan of her Daddy's music. Though she likes the Dixie Chicks too, so I can't complain too much! :) She has blue eyes like her Mama and her Daddy's ears and cute little dimples. Words can't explain how much we love this little girl. But yet there is still the longing for her sister, and the wondering of what Brooklyn's personality would have been like, what music she would have liked, and what colour her eyes would have been. This joy is often accompanied by the continued grief.

Thank you to everyone who continues to journey this long road with us. We are so blessed to have such a great community of people who love us and our girls deeply. And please keep the families I have mentioned in your thoughts and prayers.

Twenty Four

Yesterday I celebrated my 24th birthday. I had such a great time with friends and family this weekend, and often thought back to what my 23rd birthday was like. It was only 5 weeks after we lost Brooklyn, and I was in the anger stage of my grief. I was angry at most things, a lot of people, and felt very bitter about my life. Even though it was still full of many great things, being a mama was the one thing I've always wanted most and it had just been ripped out from underneath me.

This year was so very different. There was much more joy, and my arms were full again, yet still missing one little person.There's that old hymn that has the line "it is well, with my soul". I'm finding that no matter how much time passes, losing Brooklyn still doesn't sit well with my soul. It still feels so wrong and often times still surreal. Though Aubrey (nor any other children we may be blessed with), will never fill the Brooklyn-sized hole in my heart, she has brought a kind of joy to my life that I thought I would never be able to feel. I was especially thankful for that this weekend.

As I reflect back on the last 24 years of my life, it is crazy to me just how much "life" it feels like I have lived. So much has happened in such a short amount of time - good things and bad. I have been blessed with so many amazing opportunities including travelling to West Africa on a missions trip twice, graduating an amazing and highly acclaimed undergraduate program, marrying a man who loves me unconditionally, and giving birth to two beautiful girls. I have always been a planner - someone who likes schedules, lists, organization, and control over most things in my life. And when things in life didn't turn out exactly how I had planned, I always had a plan B lined up right behind it. My type A personality often made me up tight, not flexible, and just not very much fun to be around at times.

Along with everything I listed above, my biggest shortcoming was thinking that I had everything in my life figured out. I have had this picture in my head of exactly how I wanted my life to be, and knew the steps I would need to take to get there. It went something like this...  "Get married - check. Graduate university - check. Buy a house - check. Get a dog - check. Land a job in my field - check. Have three babies - check.. wait, our first baby died and things didn't turn out exactly how I wanted, now what...?"

This past year, the best thing that has happened to me is that I have learned to let go of a lot of my expectations. I have started to learn to give up control of a lot in my life. I've learned that it's okay to soften my heart and let people in every once in a while. And I've learned is that I really don't "have it all figured out". Someone asked me the other day how many more kids Derek and I want to have. Just over a year ago, before we lost Brooklyn, I would have said with great confidence that Derek and I definitely want to have three kids. Now I answer this question and others like it much differently. Now I say that we would love to have two more kids, but we will see what happens. Because the reality is, you just never know how life is going to turn out.

While I hope we are blessed with more littles ones, right now I will just enjoy the ones that we have. I will take in every moment we have with Aubrey, and truly savour every single "first" that we experience with her. 

People say that parenting changes you. I'm finding this to be so very true. Both of our girls have changed the person I am for the better. Brooklyn has taught me to appreciate so many things in this life, never take any one for granted, and that I'm not invincible or untouchable by tragedy - no matter how much I plan to avoid these things. Aubrey has taught me to roll with the punches, to have some flexibility in my expectations, to take things one day at a time, and that its okay to admit I don't have all the answers.

My type A personality still peeks its way through sometimes. I had a conversation with Derek today that went something like this. F: "I think my idea of fun and yours are very different." D:"Yeah, your idea of fun is writing up our budget and watching 'My 600-lb life' on TV". He isn't wrong, I actually get a lot of enjoyment out of things like writing up our budget, making lists, and getting things done around the house. But I'm slowly learning to loosen up, and that these things all provide me a false sense of control over things in my life. They're not bad things to do, I just need to remember that it's okay to do things just because they're fun sometimes too.

While I wish my 23rd year of life had looked different, I'm thankful for the lessons it's provided. I look forward to my 24th year, and however many more I am blessed to have on this earth. I hope this year is full of joy, fun, and making the most out of life as it comes our way.

A New Kind of Mother's Day

I recently read the blog post I wrote last Mother's Day - only 5 weeks after we had lost our Brooklyn. That was such a hard day for me. Harder than Easter, harder than Thanksgiving, maybe even harder than Christmas. I can still feel the intensity of my sadness and anger from that day, as if it is ingrained deep in my bones. I remember how badly my arms ached that day to be holding my sweet girl, and the pit in my stomach that remained all day long.

A few people tried to make Mother's Day better for me last year. Derek got me some beautiful gifts and wrote a really nice card on how he loved me even more after becoming a mama. And two other sweet friends got me the Willow Tree mama holding her baby that is still my profile picture for this blog. But on the whole, I felt like I was walking around the whole day and no one was acknowledging my motherhood. No one was acknowledging the fact that I carried that baby girl 39 weeks and 4 days, gave birth to her, dreamed about a future for her, cared for her in my belly, prepared our house for her, and prepared my heart for her arrival. I felt like that most days, but that feeling was especially apparent on Mother's Day.

Skip ahead 364 days to now. Our sweet Aubrey is napping upstairs in her crib, and my aching arms are full. This Mother's Day will certainly be different. But I will still be walking the tight-rope of joy and grief. Joy for the daughter that fills my aching arms and who's sweet smile makes (almost) everything feel okay, and grief for the daughter who won't fill my arms again until we are reunited one day. 

While I was reflecting on this Mother's Day, I remembered the prayer our pastor Matt would recite each other's day. It is written by a lady named Amy Young.

"To those who gave birth this year to their first child—we celebrate with you.

To those who lost a child this year—we mourn with you.

To those who are in the trenches with little ones every day and wear the badge of food stains—we appreciate you.

To those who experienced loss through miscarriage, failed adoptions, or running away—we mourn with you.

To those who walk the hard path of infertility, fraught with pokes, prods, tears, and disappointment—we walk with you. Forgive us when we say foolish things. We don’t mean to make this harder than it is.

To those who are foster moms, mentor moms, and spiritual moms—we need you.

To those who have warm and close relationships with your children—we celebrate with you.

To those who have disappointment, heart ache, and distance with your children—we sit with you.

To those who lost their mothers this year—we grieve with you.

To those who experienced abuse at the hands of your own mother—we acknowledge your experience.

To those who lived through driving tests, medical tests, and the overall testing of motherhood—we are better for having you in our midst.

To those who have aborted children—we remember them and you on this day.

To those who are single and long to be married and mothering your own children—we mourn that life has not turned out the way you longed for it to be.

To those who step-parent—we walk with you on these complex paths.

To those who envisioned lavishing love on grandchildren, yet that dream is not to be—we grieve with you.

To those who will have emptier nests in the upcoming year —we grieve and rejoice with you.

To those who placed children up for adoption—we commend you for your selflessness and remember how you hold that child in your heart.

And to those who are pregnant with new life, both expected and surprising—we anticipate with you.

This Mother’s Day, we walk with you. Mothering is not for the faint of heart and we have real warriors in our midst. We remember you."

Yesterday I received a card in the mail from our good friends Jenna and Bryson. I asked them if I could share it because it was such an encouragement to me.

This Mother's Day, please encourage all of the mothers in your life. Remember that this day is not all "flowers and joy" for every woman. It can be such a hard day if you struggle with losing a child, infertility, the loss of your own mother, or even women who have distance with their own children.  And most of all, please acknowledge these women tomorrow. This card from my friends was so encouraging, but what made it so special was the fact that they acknowledged I am a mother of two, and not just one. No matter what their motherhood looks, acknowledge all of the women in your life who have been mentioned above.