Win a Free Ergo Baby Carrier from Along for the Ride
If you think about it, go enter in this contest! It's to win a FREE Ergo baby carrier, the creme de la creme of baby carriers! I want one sooooo bad I can taste it. There are so many stinkin' benefits to babywearing, I could never name just one. If you don't wear your baby, you SHOULD! They will love you for it. Plus you can actually get some work done if you do (but you didn't hear that from me.) Ahem.
Happy Wednesday!
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
On to the next dreaded day.......
As if the birthday wasn't bad enough, I now get to dread D-Day. That's death date to you. This time last year Isabella was just getting over her first big pneumonia and we were all breathing a huge sigh of relief. I had spent two long weeks holding her limp, weak body all day and stayed up with her all night. Yes, for two weeks I maybe slept 24 hours TOTAL, while newly pregnant. I'm feeling tired just remembering it. It was rough.....to say the least. As a result I also came down with a wicked case of bronchitis. Laying in bed all night, holding your sick baby will do that to you. I remember laying in Jackson's bed with her, watching her fight for every breath. Adjusting and re-adjusting her nasal cannula, suctioning her out with that awful machine and praying. Lots of praying. We ran her through three antibiotics in those two weeks. Yes three. I gave her morphine for the first time and I was so terrified.
Our hospice nurse had walked me through it, but since she only needed the morphine at night to slow her respirations down, I had to do it alone. Solo. All by myself. I remember giving her the first dose, saying a quick prayer and watching the pulse ox with wide, frozen eyes for one hour straight without flinching. Waiting. Watching. Waiting. Watching. You get the idea. I watched her heart rate drop pretty dramatically at first....held my breath and it maintained. Praise Jesus! She would not die because of the drug I gave her.......ohthankyouthankyouthankyou. I miss her. Even during those nights, I miss her. I know she wouldn't want to relive that moment of time, but I would if it's all I could have. In a minute I'd do again. I poured every ounce of myself into her and I wouldn't change a damn thing.
I had no idea as Isabella turned that corner and suddenly beat the pneumonia that in a month I would bury her. Just as I had no idea as I gave birth to her, that I would bury her 14 months later. That this disorder, this monster would tear our lives apart. Have I ever mentioned that I really hate, hate, hate Lissencephaly? I do.
It's funny because after the pneumonia Isabella did so much better. It was like a cloud had been lifted, she was so alert and happy and clear. She even ate her last month of life and drank juice! She drank juice I tell you! And I am happy to tell you she ate one single STRAWBERRY. Yes siree she did! (I'm telling you I was so excited the afternoon she ate a strawberry I just about called CNN, but decided it wasn't *that* major....almost, but not quite.)
I seem to get more and more distraught about her death as time passes and that puzzles me. I don't know if that is "normal" or whatever, but I think it has something to do with the fact that as time passes I begin to forget her suffering. I just remember her sweet face, her smell and holding her. Oh and of course feeding her....I spent many hours doing that. So I think my heart is so sad because I don't remember her daily seizures and the breathing and the arching and the and the and the. Her breathing was awful....truly terrible. I couldn't take her anywhere without someone asking "is she OK?" "Does she always breathe like that?" "Oh my! Is she sick??" (as they shield their kids as to avoid her disease) No. That's just how she sounded. Everyday. Awful I know. Actually I don't fracking know. I'll probably never know how she felt. What it was like for her. I probably won't suffer a fraction of what she endured on this earth. My sweet angel, my baby girl.
My mind knows it was for the best......my heart just can't figure it out. It's slower to grasp things I guess. My heart wants her back so badly......even despite her suffering. My heart is terribly selfish and would take her back and make her continue to suffer this very instant just so my heart could love her again. My heart is missing a big piece right now, and can you blame my heart for wanting that piece back? My heart just doesn't want to believe that the missing piece will not be put back for a very long time. My heart is stubborn and just won't let go.
I love you and miss you sweet Isabella and I cannot believe it's been almost a whole year since I have held you and kissed you and whispered "goodnight sweet angel" as I laid you down to sleep in your beautiful pink haven. Every part of me aches for you and misses you. You were an amazing little girl and you did so much for so many in your short life. Your spirit lives on in myself, your daddy and your amazing brothers. We will never forget you.........
Our hospice nurse had walked me through it, but since she only needed the morphine at night to slow her respirations down, I had to do it alone. Solo. All by myself. I remember giving her the first dose, saying a quick prayer and watching the pulse ox with wide, frozen eyes for one hour straight without flinching. Waiting. Watching. Waiting. Watching. You get the idea. I watched her heart rate drop pretty dramatically at first....held my breath and it maintained. Praise Jesus! She would not die because of the drug I gave her.......ohthankyouthankyouthankyou. I miss her. Even during those nights, I miss her. I know she wouldn't want to relive that moment of time, but I would if it's all I could have. In a minute I'd do again. I poured every ounce of myself into her and I wouldn't change a damn thing.
I had no idea as Isabella turned that corner and suddenly beat the pneumonia that in a month I would bury her. Just as I had no idea as I gave birth to her, that I would bury her 14 months later. That this disorder, this monster would tear our lives apart. Have I ever mentioned that I really hate, hate, hate Lissencephaly? I do.
It's funny because after the pneumonia Isabella did so much better. It was like a cloud had been lifted, she was so alert and happy and clear. She even ate her last month of life and drank juice! She drank juice I tell you! And I am happy to tell you she ate one single STRAWBERRY. Yes siree she did! (I'm telling you I was so excited the afternoon she ate a strawberry I just about called CNN, but decided it wasn't *that* major....almost, but not quite.)
I seem to get more and more distraught about her death as time passes and that puzzles me. I don't know if that is "normal" or whatever, but I think it has something to do with the fact that as time passes I begin to forget her suffering. I just remember her sweet face, her smell and holding her. Oh and of course feeding her....I spent many hours doing that. So I think my heart is so sad because I don't remember her daily seizures and the breathing and the arching and the and the and the. Her breathing was awful....truly terrible. I couldn't take her anywhere without someone asking "is she OK?" "Does she always breathe like that?" "Oh my! Is she sick??" (as they shield their kids as to avoid her disease) No. That's just how she sounded. Everyday. Awful I know. Actually I don't fracking know. I'll probably never know how she felt. What it was like for her. I probably won't suffer a fraction of what she endured on this earth. My sweet angel, my baby girl.
My mind knows it was for the best......my heart just can't figure it out. It's slower to grasp things I guess. My heart wants her back so badly......even despite her suffering. My heart is terribly selfish and would take her back and make her continue to suffer this very instant just so my heart could love her again. My heart is missing a big piece right now, and can you blame my heart for wanting that piece back? My heart just doesn't want to believe that the missing piece will not be put back for a very long time. My heart is stubborn and just won't let go.
I love you and miss you sweet Isabella and I cannot believe it's been almost a whole year since I have held you and kissed you and whispered "goodnight sweet angel" as I laid you down to sleep in your beautiful pink haven. Every part of me aches for you and misses you. You were an amazing little girl and you did so much for so many in your short life. Your spirit lives on in myself, your daddy and your amazing brothers. We will never forget you.........
Thursday, April 24, 2008
I'm still here and have a lot to write about
Rollie Pollie is a teething mess. Really. Truly. Teething. Mess. My sweet, adorable, goofy, smiling boy has been replaced by a screaming, crying, thrashing, never sleeping cranky pants. Waah! Someone pass the Motrin. And Vodka. Oh just kidding! I'm breast feeding for crying out loud! In fact, with this dang teething, I'm breast feeding a lot and the chewing/biting isn't my fave. I don't really think I even have nipples anymore.....at least not nipples that I can feel. Oh, you just wanted to know that didn't you??
We went to the Zoo today and it was the most miserable experience there yet! I should have just turned around the car when I saw the loooooong lines, the hoards of children and school buses. But no, I persevered, I dug my heels in and said "We ARE GOING TO THE ZOO TODAY!" It sucked. Kids everywhere. I love kids, I do. I just don't love 5 million, bazillion, gatrillion kids at the zoo. Especially when I have a three year old who was up late the night before, awoke early this morning, decided to skip breakfast and throw temper tantrums the first hour of the trip. I swear, he was possessed and I almost called a priest. Instead I bought him some french fries and it worked better than any holy water. Ah, my sweet boy was back. By then I'd had enough though and we left....which you would think would end the horrible day, but oh no, we were just getting started!
In the car Rollie Pollie started screaming about 2 seconds into the 30 minute trip home and screamed the ENTIRE way. And by screaming, I don't just mean, baby crying, I mean screaming.....choking screaming.....gagging screaming.....rip yo mama's heart out and make her crave a valium screaming.
So we get home. Rollie Pollie is all better as soon as I get him out of his torture chair of doom (aka the car seat) and we go inside. Ah, that's better. Right? You should know by now the answer to that....
We haven't even been home for 5 minutes, 5 MINUTES and what happens you ask? I'll tell you! Turkey somehow trips and do you want to know what breaks his fall? I'll tell you! His freakin' HEAD slamming onto the coffee table. That's what broke his fall. Frickety, Frackerty, Frack! So I put Kingston down (yeah, still holding my teething monster, hello! he doesn't like to be set down!) pick Turkey up, who incidentally is now screaming his head off, look at him and see a giant gash under his chin and it's bleeding like there is no tomorrow. Grrrrreat. Of course I feel awful and comfort him and clean him up. I call my mom the nurse, she rushes over with dermabond (oooo did she swipe that from the hospital.....???) and then oh, then, we get to hold Turkey (who is no longer "turkey" but a wild, thrashing cougar) down and glue his chin back together. OMG. Let me say that one more time. OMG. Somewhere in the mix Husband showed up for lunch, helped me (thank God!) and we got Turkey all calmed down. As for all the therapy he'll need in his thirties, well, I just can't help that. Did I mention it was like seriously freaking nap time when all this shiz went down?? Well it was. Oy vey!
I'm just glad the day is over. Amen!
We went to the Zoo today and it was the most miserable experience there yet! I should have just turned around the car when I saw the loooooong lines, the hoards of children and school buses. But no, I persevered, I dug my heels in and said "We ARE GOING TO THE ZOO TODAY!" It sucked. Kids everywhere. I love kids, I do. I just don't love 5 million, bazillion, gatrillion kids at the zoo. Especially when I have a three year old who was up late the night before, awoke early this morning, decided to skip breakfast and throw temper tantrums the first hour of the trip. I swear, he was possessed and I almost called a priest. Instead I bought him some french fries and it worked better than any holy water. Ah, my sweet boy was back. By then I'd had enough though and we left....which you would think would end the horrible day, but oh no, we were just getting started!
In the car Rollie Pollie started screaming about 2 seconds into the 30 minute trip home and screamed the ENTIRE way. And by screaming, I don't just mean, baby crying, I mean screaming.....choking screaming.....gagging screaming.....rip yo mama's heart out and make her crave a valium screaming.
So we get home. Rollie Pollie is all better as soon as I get him out of his torture chair of doom (aka the car seat) and we go inside. Ah, that's better. Right? You should know by now the answer to that....
We haven't even been home for 5 minutes, 5 MINUTES and what happens you ask? I'll tell you! Turkey somehow trips and do you want to know what breaks his fall? I'll tell you! His freakin' HEAD slamming onto the coffee table. That's what broke his fall. Frickety, Frackerty, Frack! So I put Kingston down (yeah, still holding my teething monster, hello! he doesn't like to be set down!) pick Turkey up, who incidentally is now screaming his head off, look at him and see a giant gash under his chin and it's bleeding like there is no tomorrow. Grrrrreat. Of course I feel awful and comfort him and clean him up. I call my mom the nurse, she rushes over with dermabond (oooo did she swipe that from the hospital.....???) and then oh, then, we get to hold Turkey (who is no longer "turkey" but a wild, thrashing cougar) down and glue his chin back together. OMG. Let me say that one more time. OMG. Somewhere in the mix Husband showed up for lunch, helped me (thank God!) and we got Turkey all calmed down. As for all the therapy he'll need in his thirties, well, I just can't help that. Did I mention it was like seriously freaking nap time when all this shiz went down?? Well it was. Oy vey!
I'm just glad the day is over. Amen!
Saturday, April 12, 2008
A step.....
Today we took a step. A baby step. We moved our computer and desk out of the den and into Isabella's old room. And I didn't breakdown. Not once. I actually feel really OK with it and nice. Right now, as I type, I am sitting in the dark, drinking a nice cold beer (it's heaven on earth I tell you) and blogging in my sweet girls room. I like it, it's peaceful. Her room has never been off limits since she passed away. I have the diaper changing table in here still for the sole purpose having a reason to come in her every single day, several times a day. In the early days after Isabella passed away it made my heart very heavy to come in here, but now I find peace. I decorated her room with such love, it still means something to me and to husband. I can see the bouquet of dried roses from her funeral hanging on the wall. A plate I made for her that was a gift her first Christmas....I wrote "Isabella: A real life Princess" on it. I can see a hook with the only hat I ever bought for her hanging from it....she never wore it, she hated for her head to be touched....I mean, really hated it. In her crib is the only toy she ever showed any interest in, it's a green lizard thing from Baby Einstein. She knocked it over a handful of times ON PURPOSE, which was freakin' huge for her. No child of mine will ever play with that. Period. There are about a million different little things that say "Princess" on them in here. I realize that a lot people in this world refer to their daughters as "Princess", but I don't care. To me, it's only meant for my sweet Isabella. Every morning when I heard Isabella stirring in her crib I would open the door and in my best sing-song voice I would say "Good morning Princess!". She loved that. So did I.
Of course, we've had several family members ask us when we are going to "change" it, I guess they mean take her bed down and get rid of all signs of her living here with us. Well guess what? We're not going to....maybe not ever. What do you think of that family? As it turns out, we don't care what you think. Ironically enough, nobody else in either of our families has ever lost a child. Not one. Husband and I get to be the first. Lucky us. Now we're kind of like lepers....and everyone has advice for us on what they think we should do. How we should be handling this loss. You know what? If you are reading this and you've never lost a child (thank your lucky stars by the way, for you are indeed lucky) if you ever happen to meet someone who has or will someday, please, please, please keep your mouth shut and offer support. That's it. Maybe send one of those cards that says something poetic about God and his "plan", but don't offer "words of wisdom"...chances are your wisdom will be misguided and hurtful even though it's not your intention. One of these days I'll get all ranty and write down my list of things you should never, ever say to parents experiencing a tragedy. Oh, how I could go on. I could write a book I tell you. Maybe I will. It will be called "oh shut up already!" I'm kidding. No I'm not.
So I like our new "office"/Isabella's room. It's not bad. And now the den is devoted entirely to toy mayhem. Turkey is in looooove. Gosh I love that silly boy. He's taken to saying "butt-hole" lately. He put two and two together and thinks he invented the word. Hm. I can't help it, it's so darn hilarious when he says it. I'm terrible, I know. I try to be a good mom and not encourage naughty behavior, but I have such a morbid sense of humor and an almost four year old saying "Oh my butt-hole itches!" is hi-lar-i-ous, no matter how you slice it folks! And I mean really, you can't get more literal than "butt-hole", it's a hole in your butt for crying out loud! I haven't said "butt-hole" since I was like, I don't know, TEN or something so he didn't hear it from me. Unfortunately he's more likely to hear something worse than that out of my mouth....like I said, I'm terrible.
So there you have it, I went from my sweet girl, to my potty mouthed little boy in two seconds flat. That's how my mind works.......really.
Isabella, I love you so much and I know you are always with us. We think of constantly and you will never be replaced or forgotten. I love you baby girl. Take care of your brothers, they love you so much (especially that Turkey). Goodnight my Princess.
Of course, we've had several family members ask us when we are going to "change" it, I guess they mean take her bed down and get rid of all signs of her living here with us. Well guess what? We're not going to....maybe not ever. What do you think of that family? As it turns out, we don't care what you think. Ironically enough, nobody else in either of our families has ever lost a child. Not one. Husband and I get to be the first. Lucky us. Now we're kind of like lepers....and everyone has advice for us on what they think we should do. How we should be handling this loss. You know what? If you are reading this and you've never lost a child (thank your lucky stars by the way, for you are indeed lucky) if you ever happen to meet someone who has or will someday, please, please, please keep your mouth shut and offer support. That's it. Maybe send one of those cards that says something poetic about God and his "plan", but don't offer "words of wisdom"...chances are your wisdom will be misguided and hurtful even though it's not your intention. One of these days I'll get all ranty and write down my list of things you should never, ever say to parents experiencing a tragedy. Oh, how I could go on. I could write a book I tell you. Maybe I will. It will be called "oh shut up already!" I'm kidding. No I'm not.
So I like our new "office"/Isabella's room. It's not bad. And now the den is devoted entirely to toy mayhem. Turkey is in looooove. Gosh I love that silly boy. He's taken to saying "butt-hole" lately. He put two and two together and thinks he invented the word. Hm. I can't help it, it's so darn hilarious when he says it. I'm terrible, I know. I try to be a good mom and not encourage naughty behavior, but I have such a morbid sense of humor and an almost four year old saying "Oh my butt-hole itches!" is hi-lar-i-ous, no matter how you slice it folks! And I mean really, you can't get more literal than "butt-hole", it's a hole in your butt for crying out loud! I haven't said "butt-hole" since I was like, I don't know, TEN or something so he didn't hear it from me. Unfortunately he's more likely to hear something worse than that out of my mouth....like I said, I'm terrible.
So there you have it, I went from my sweet girl, to my potty mouthed little boy in two seconds flat. That's how my mind works.......really.
Isabella, I love you so much and I know you are always with us. We think of constantly and you will never be replaced or forgotten. I love you baby girl. Take care of your brothers, they love you so much (especially that Turkey). Goodnight my Princess.
Friday, April 11, 2008
The paper bag puppet wasn't such a good idea I guess
OK, so the other day it was raining cats and dogs where we live......which is lovely unless you have a 3 year old little boy who is climbing the walls and it's only 8:21 am. So I rummaged through our craft shelf and found these leftover paper bags and thought "ooo, we can make some silly little puppets, Turkey will love that!" (Aren't I just the most creative, most awesome mom?) Actually I'm just a desperate mom....
So, I explain to Turkey how we are going to make our puppets and he is very excited (thank goodness, right? not all of my ideas are so well accepted) I make a puppet for myself with curly crazy hair (a certain rollie pollie has left me no time for my soul mate aka the CHI) and Turkey laughs and decides to make one that is him. We have fun for a while and then he says: "hey, I want you to make one for sister." Hm. At this point I think something along the lines of: "well, I don't really want to do that, but he does......shit." So I make a puppet for sister. How can I not? Here is where it gets interesting......and by interesting, I mean really heartbreaking. (You have been warned!)
Turkey then puts the puppet that represents himself on one hand and puts the puppet that represents Isabella on the other and has them face each other. Then he speaks. "Hi sister, I love you sooooo much" says the Turkey puppet to the sister puppet. "Let's go to the zoo sister" (he makes motions like they are walking) "Look at those hippos! And the lions! Oh, zebras, look! sister". (So at this point I am having a full on emotional break-down, INSIDE MY HEAD because I can't let Turkey see how much this pains me.) Basically Turkey went on to "play" with sister for another 20 minutes or so, doing all of his favorite real-life things with his sister via a brown paper bag. Does it get any worse? I think not. Then he said it: "Mama, I'm so glad I got to play with sister today." That's not fair. My wonderfully innocent, sweet boy has to play with his little sister by using a BROWN PAPER BAG........ WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS WORLD?
OK, I know that was harsh, but that's what I was thinking. No censor. I'm not in a good place this week. Not at all. As you can probably tell by now, right?
I know the whole paper bag thing was more than likely "theraputic" for Turkey and all that, but it just reminds me what is missing in our lives. Like I need extra reminders, Ha. Sometimes I get so caught up in MY loss, I forget that Turkey has lost his sister. It sucks.....no other way to slice it. He keeps asking me when he's going to get another sister and I just never know what to tell him. I don't make plans anymore, I realized in the harshest of ways that there is no point in making plans in this crazy world. My plans certainly didn't pan out the way I thought, so I don't want to set myself or Turkey up for more disappointment. I love that little man, I really do. I would give anything to give him another sister. He deserves it. We'll just have to see won't we?
So, I explain to Turkey how we are going to make our puppets and he is very excited (thank goodness, right? not all of my ideas are so well accepted) I make a puppet for myself with curly crazy hair (a certain rollie pollie has left me no time for my soul mate aka the CHI) and Turkey laughs and decides to make one that is him. We have fun for a while and then he says: "hey, I want you to make one for sister." Hm. At this point I think something along the lines of: "well, I don't really want to do that, but he does......shit." So I make a puppet for sister. How can I not? Here is where it gets interesting......and by interesting, I mean really heartbreaking. (You have been warned!)
Turkey then puts the puppet that represents himself on one hand and puts the puppet that represents Isabella on the other and has them face each other. Then he speaks. "Hi sister, I love you sooooo much" says the Turkey puppet to the sister puppet. "Let's go to the zoo sister" (he makes motions like they are walking) "Look at those hippos! And the lions! Oh, zebras, look! sister". (So at this point I am having a full on emotional break-down, INSIDE MY HEAD because I can't let Turkey see how much this pains me.) Basically Turkey went on to "play" with sister for another 20 minutes or so, doing all of his favorite real-life things with his sister via a brown paper bag. Does it get any worse? I think not. Then he said it: "Mama, I'm so glad I got to play with sister today." That's not fair. My wonderfully innocent, sweet boy has to play with his little sister by using a BROWN PAPER BAG........ WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS WORLD?
OK, I know that was harsh, but that's what I was thinking. No censor. I'm not in a good place this week. Not at all. As you can probably tell by now, right?
I know the whole paper bag thing was more than likely "theraputic" for Turkey and all that, but it just reminds me what is missing in our lives. Like I need extra reminders, Ha. Sometimes I get so caught up in MY loss, I forget that Turkey has lost his sister. It sucks.....no other way to slice it. He keeps asking me when he's going to get another sister and I just never know what to tell him. I don't make plans anymore, I realized in the harshest of ways that there is no point in making plans in this crazy world. My plans certainly didn't pan out the way I thought, so I don't want to set myself or Turkey up for more disappointment. I love that little man, I really do. I would give anything to give him another sister. He deserves it. We'll just have to see won't we?
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Happy Birthday Isabella
Well, the day is almost over and I survived it. There were a couple of moments I must admit where I did not want to survive, but I did. I am so thankful for you Husband (if you read this I heart you, I really do). We have this great partnership and when one of us falls apart the other is there to pick up the pieces. We traded off a few times today......... I love you honey and I couldn't do this without you!
I would bore you with the details of today, but I'm just emotionally spent and ready to wake up tomorrow and start again. I am determined to have a fun day with my other two rascals tomorrow and hopefully enjoy some spring!
To my Isabella: You are my forever girl, my sweetest angel and my heart. I love you more than words, more than my breath, more than my own life. I have faith in God that we will be reunited in Heaven again one day and that you will be complete and the whole the way you were meant to be here. I hope you danced in your pink tutu all day, breathing and loving your new life. I know you are surrounded by light, love and eternal sunshine, what more could a mama bear ask for? I love you so much and until I see you again, keep dancing sweet girl, keep dancing......
Oh and HAPPY BIRTHDAY! We love you :)
*to everyone who called me today, sent me wonderful messages and emails, and acknowledged my pain and loss without embarrassment, I love you and appreciate you more than you know. My strength is magnified by you guys! I am continually humbled by the compassion of those around me. Thank you.*
I would bore you with the details of today, but I'm just emotionally spent and ready to wake up tomorrow and start again. I am determined to have a fun day with my other two rascals tomorrow and hopefully enjoy some spring!
To my Isabella: You are my forever girl, my sweetest angel and my heart. I love you more than words, more than my breath, more than my own life. I have faith in God that we will be reunited in Heaven again one day and that you will be complete and the whole the way you were meant to be here. I hope you danced in your pink tutu all day, breathing and loving your new life. I know you are surrounded by light, love and eternal sunshine, what more could a mama bear ask for? I love you so much and until I see you again, keep dancing sweet girl, keep dancing......
Oh and HAPPY BIRTHDAY! We love you :)
*to everyone who called me today, sent me wonderful messages and emails, and acknowledged my pain and loss without embarrassment, I love you and appreciate you more than you know. My strength is magnified by you guys! I am continually humbled by the compassion of those around me. Thank you.*
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Tomorrow
Tomorrow would be the day you turned two years old. Tomorrow would be the day that I would wake up and tell you all about your wonderful birth. Tomorrow would be the day we ate cake together and you opened all of your gifts (probably pink and lots of it.)
Tomorrow will be hard for us. Tomorrow there will be no gifts opened. Tomorrow I will not get to wake up and tell you about your wonderful birth. Tomorrow I will still miss you like crazy and wish with everything in me that you were here.
I love you sweet girl and I know somehow you will get us through this. Your daddy, brothers and I will celebrate your beautiful and sweet life tomorrow and try to take comfort in the small fact that we had you for a short while, instead of not at all. I miss you and take comfort in the knowledge that you are free and happy now and that someday we will be a forever family in Heaven. I will see you again someday, of that I am completely sure. I love you, I love you, I love you!!!
Your light shines on baby girl!
Love
Mama
Tomorrow will be hard for us. Tomorrow there will be no gifts opened. Tomorrow I will not get to wake up and tell you about your wonderful birth. Tomorrow I will still miss you like crazy and wish with everything in me that you were here.
I love you sweet girl and I know somehow you will get us through this. Your daddy, brothers and I will celebrate your beautiful and sweet life tomorrow and try to take comfort in the small fact that we had you for a short while, instead of not at all. I miss you and take comfort in the knowledge that you are free and happy now and that someday we will be a forever family in Heaven. I will see you again someday, of that I am completely sure. I love you, I love you, I love you!!!
Your light shines on baby girl!
Love
Mama
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Oh, one more thing!
Isabella at her birthday party last year.......this was the only moment she opened her eyes for the whole THREE HOURS! What a stinker! And you know what? As soon as everyone left she opened those eyes and wanted to party, just she and I. What a rascal! I love you baby girl. I know this year you will be dancing away in that pink tutu of yours. I'm glad I let you take it with you.............I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart. Always.
And the countdown continues......
to Isabella's birthday. Thursday is just looming ahead and looming and looming and did I mention that it's looming?? If you haven't figured out that I use a little bit of sarcastic humor to deal with my shiz.....then you just aren't the sharpest tool in the shed. Sometimes my "approach" offends people, but then you have to ask yourself "does Mama to Many care?" Indeed I do not. I am me and that is what makes me, ME man! When your sweet daughter is born with a rare and incurable horrific disorder called Lissencephaly and then dies, you can deal with it however you like. Or not deal with it. (which I don't recommend by the way.)
So the birthday. My sweet, beautiful girl. I've had a certain peace about it the last couple of days and I know it's because of her, my Isabella. I was spiraling into the depths of a deep depression the last two weeks and right when I needed it most, I felt calm again. That's her.....working her sweet girl magic on her sad broken hearted mama. Oh how I miss her sweet face, her soft smell and to die for lullaby coos. I miss our "chats" in the morning and I even miss feeding her slowly, oh how slowly, all day long.
We plan on going to the cemetery that day, because we like the cemetery where she is buried. It's truly a beautiful place and that's why we chose it. That's where 'ol husband and I will be buried (with her in between us, talk amongst yourselves about that) and hopefully not anymore of our children. I'm making the Hummingbird Cake I mentioned earlier this week, it's a southern thang ya'll, and it's delish! It's my Grandma's recipe and all her recipes are finger lickin' good! It does hold some sentimental significance of course, it's main ingredient is mashed bananas, Isabella's most favorite food. That girl wouldn't eat anything solid except mashed bananas. She would eat those with gusto! Sweet thing! So we'll take our cake out there, cry a little I'm sure, have a picnic, eat cake and release all those glorious pink balloons to her (another favorite of hers, she loved balloons!)
I really do want to try and make that day a positive one for us. Her BIRTH was amazing and joyful and nothing can erase that for us. I want to always celebrate that day, because no matter what, I did have her for 14 months. Not nearly long enough, but it's all I got. What else can I do? Except try and hold on to the small and beautiful moments of her life.
I of course am not all positivity, but I'm trying OK? I could go on and on about how I want her here, how I'm more than a little pissed at how this world works and how I keep having daydreams where Isabella is a healthy and vibrant blond haired, blue eyed princess and twirling around at her second birthday. But that wouldn't be healthy now would it?
Like I said, I'm trying. Just for you Husband, you big surly man! I love you honey-sugar-stinky-pants. (that's right, now the world knows!) I have got to, got to, GOT TO be there for my two boys. For my future child(ren) OHMYGOSHDIDIJUSTTYPETHATYESIDID.
The birthday, it is coming and I am waiting. If you are the praying type, keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I hope it's a good day and Oh, while your at it, ask the Big Guy if he could stop all this rain non-sense that is supposedly going to happen on Thursday. I mean, seriously, we deserve a break here!
Love,
Mama
So the birthday. My sweet, beautiful girl. I've had a certain peace about it the last couple of days and I know it's because of her, my Isabella. I was spiraling into the depths of a deep depression the last two weeks and right when I needed it most, I felt calm again. That's her.....working her sweet girl magic on her sad broken hearted mama. Oh how I miss her sweet face, her soft smell and to die for lullaby coos. I miss our "chats" in the morning and I even miss feeding her slowly, oh how slowly, all day long.
We plan on going to the cemetery that day, because we like the cemetery where she is buried. It's truly a beautiful place and that's why we chose it. That's where 'ol husband and I will be buried (with her in between us, talk amongst yourselves about that) and hopefully not anymore of our children. I'm making the Hummingbird Cake I mentioned earlier this week, it's a southern thang ya'll, and it's delish! It's my Grandma's recipe and all her recipes are finger lickin' good! It does hold some sentimental significance of course, it's main ingredient is mashed bananas, Isabella's most favorite food. That girl wouldn't eat anything solid except mashed bananas. She would eat those with gusto! Sweet thing! So we'll take our cake out there, cry a little I'm sure, have a picnic, eat cake and release all those glorious pink balloons to her (another favorite of hers, she loved balloons!)
I really do want to try and make that day a positive one for us. Her BIRTH was amazing and joyful and nothing can erase that for us. I want to always celebrate that day, because no matter what, I did have her for 14 months. Not nearly long enough, but it's all I got. What else can I do? Except try and hold on to the small and beautiful moments of her life.
I of course am not all positivity, but I'm trying OK? I could go on and on about how I want her here, how I'm more than a little pissed at how this world works and how I keep having daydreams where Isabella is a healthy and vibrant blond haired, blue eyed princess and twirling around at her second birthday. But that wouldn't be healthy now would it?
Like I said, I'm trying. Just for you Husband, you big surly man! I love you honey-sugar-stinky-pants. (that's right, now the world knows!) I have got to, got to, GOT TO be there for my two boys. For my future child(ren) OHMYGOSHDIDIJUSTTYPETHATYESIDID.
The birthday, it is coming and I am waiting. If you are the praying type, keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I hope it's a good day and Oh, while your at it, ask the Big Guy if he could stop all this rain non-sense that is supposedly going to happen on Thursday. I mean, seriously, we deserve a break here!
Love,
Mama
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