Tag: memorial garden

Uncategorized

The best view comes after the hardest climb…

kristinamariedaily

If things had been different for us, you almost certainly would’ve celebrated your fourth birthday by now. July 14… the day you were due to be born. And here I am today, with your brother at daycare and your sister sleeping peacefully in her crib while I think about you near your garden.

We recently underwent a major renovation to our backyard, but before it began I was sure to plant your garden. Your garden is the one thing that I must always do before the temperature grows warm. It’s one of my most important jobs every spring. And I’m starting to learn and understand which flowers will survive from the spring to the first winter freeze, through the brutal Texas heat. This year your garden is right where it always is, with familiar flowers, bright and colorful. It’s a steady focal point in our ever-changing backyard.

Amelia, I must say, I truly love the view. There have been several moments recently where the whole family is outside, enjoying the new patio. And with your garden in the background the view feels complete. Our home feels complete. Of course we would much rather have you here- a four year old little girl living in this big beautiful world- but we also recognize that with you here the view would be much different. Our family would not be what it is today and our home as we know it would look nothing like this.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the past few months about how different our lives would be if things were the way they are now when I was pregnant with you. PPROM and the complications that occurred when I was pregnant with you are unfortunately all too common. And if it happened today, I wouldn’t have any choice but to wait for sepsis to take hold. It would’ve left me without you and with deep physical and emotional scars that could very likely have impacted the trajectory of my motherhood. Nobody can understand what we went through- you, me, and your Daddy- at least not those who haven’t walked in these shoes. And to this day I still wish we didn’t have to go through this experience together. BUT… Every single day I am also incredibly thankful that I had the option to deliver you, and hold you, and grieve, and move forward with growing our family without any major complications. Quite simply, without what we experienced with you I would not be a Mother to both Benjamin and Olivia. I know this in my heart and soul.

People like to say everything happens for a reason. And I don’t think that’s true. But I do believe that whatever we face throughout our lives plays a crucial role in building the trajectory of our future. And more and more I’m coming to realize that we are just so lucky that given our circumstances we had the opportunity to lose you as gracefully as we did… because we are now living in the future where it is just absolutely beautiful. It is truly, most wonderfully, lovely from where I am right now. And my heart feels whole again.

Happy due date, Amelia. July 14- a day that once brought so much sadness now brings me a sense of peace and understanding. We love you so very much and love having your garden in view.

Uncategorized

Mend your garden and the butterflies will come…

kristinamariedaily

I remember when we lost you I spent so many of those early days in our backyard, feeling you in the rays of the sun and warm spring and early summer breeze. It was the only place I felt peace.

We planted your garden in May that year and I’d imagine one day having a happy life with two children playing and giggling around your garden. I remember vividly picturing your Daddy and I running around with two giggling children- a boy and a girl- happy and carefree near your garden. It felt so impossibly far away from reality but it’s all I could do in those darkest of days to imagine that better days would come and grief wouldn’t always be as heavy as it was at that time.

This summer I’ve seen part of this dream come true in watching your Daddy and little brother play near your garden. Now big enough to run around, Benji often stops to look at (and sometimes pull on) your flowers and his giggles illuminate my heart as your daddy throws him up in the air, catches him, and twirls him around. It’s a moment of true joy that I will never take for granted. It’s the most beautiful thing to see and feel.

In a matter of days or weeks we will welcome your little sister earth side. Of course you already know that, but as I write this I think I’m realizing for the first time how my visions, my dreams from those devastating early days, are coming true. Somehow I always imagined a boy and a girl giggling and playing around you and your garden- I’m not sure why it was a boy and a girl- but in a short while this will come true. I feel so truly lucky!

During the early days of this pregnancy I wondered what symbol would feel right for your newest little sibling. I always had visions of flowers when I was pregnant with you and when I was expecting your brother the moon and stars for “to the moon and back” felt fitting after the journey we had been on. This time, I started noticing a lot of butterflies fluttering around me whenever I was outside. So butterflies soon became her symbol.

I’m not sure if it’s common for parents to assign a symbol to their children under normal circumstances but when we experienced losing you having a symbol for you was so important. Flowers helped pave a way for me to love you after you were gone. Flowers helped me feel close to you. Seeing wildflowers growing in the most unexpected places still makes me smile and think of you. Planting and tending to your garden gives me a way to love you without you here to love. And flowers are now the way your siblings can learn about and grow up knowing you.

Once I decided that butterflies would be the symbol for your little sister two beautiful coincidences occurred. First, I came across some butterfly artwork for her nursery that is compiled of flowers and knew it could be a little nod from you. It felt right to choose this piece for her room and will weave you beautifully into our life with her.

Second, a dear friend asked me to pick my favorite swaddle blanket from a specific brand and I couldn’t help but notice the “Amelia swaddle blanket” was adorned with butterflies! A beautiful coincidence? Maybe. But what if this is another sweet sign that you are still here in some way, playing a larger role in our family than I ever imagined? It seems too perfect that of all the options the swaddle with the butterflies is named after you!

And so I take this as another nod from you that we are right where we are supposed to be. After the darkest of days we find ourselves growing our family. Adding another daughter to love just as we have always loved you!

We’ve mended our garden and now the butterflies will come!

Uncategorized

The miracle of a single flower…

kristinamariedaily

“If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly, our whole life would change.” -Buddha

I can’t believe it’s already June 10th, 2024. It feels like yesterday was the beginning of April and we were preparing for your new garden.

It’s becoming easier, more natural to pick out flowers to fill your garden. I love the few hours I get to spend roaming the aisles at our garden centers nearby, dreaming up your garden and picking flowers to coordinate and compliment each other. This year the challenge was finding grubs and ants that had taken up residence in the flower bed and figuring out what to do. Yuck! But I think I was able to solve it.

This year your garden is filled with lots of bright colors with a few new additions and several plants that I have brought back for the second or third year. I’m learning which flowers survive the climate here in Texas and it’s becoming easier to plant a garden that will make it through the summer if nourished well.

The pink dianthus flowers have returned for a third season in the small pot that sits before your garden. It continues to amaze me how hardy these beautiful little flowers are, making it through not only hot, dry summers, but also cold winters with ice and frost. These flowers are the definition of resilience. They continue to thrive in the same soil from three summers ago and in a small pot, nonetheless.

This year, we also planted two new Amelia Rose Azalea shrubs along the fence near your garden. I’ve wanted to plant some of these since we lost you and this year it felt right. I needed some time after my attempt to grow one from a sapling in 2021 that Daisy destroyed as a puppy and led to me feeling like I failed you. This spring it felt like enough time had passed and I was ready for another chance. I opted for 3 gallon plants rather than saplings to help our success and they’ve been thriving since we planted! These Azaleas will flower every spring and fall for years to come. I look forward to watching them grow and continue to thrive with the same name as you! Amelia

All in all, Amelia, your 2024 garden and this fourth year of honoring you has started out perfectly. We’ve had plenty of rain! I’ve already seen the miracle of each flower, each blossom, and my whole life continues to change.

Your 2024 garden
Started out with a clean slate and a vision
It’s truly beautiful in the morning light
We love you, Amelia.

Uncategorized

Flowers that bloom on Christmas

kristinamariedaily

Yesterday was Christmas Day. Our third Christmas without you. And also the first Christmas I noticed flowers that continue to bloom in your garden. It’s incredible that we’ve made it past the shortest day of the year- the middle of winter- and your garden still blooms. It’s like a sweet Christmas message that the flowers remaining are white and red… holiday colors.

This Christmas with your brother being just over one year old has been so magical and so healing. We spent Christmas the way we longed to spend Christmas for so many years and I poured my soul into all the details for him. It felt nice to create traditions and make the holiday magical. I genuinely enjoyed this Christmas and loved the pure excitement on his little face. In many ways this Christmas redeemed a part of my soul that had been lost to sadness a few years ago. But if I’m completely honest the “merry”, “joy”, “happy” of this season is and will always be a little different since we lost your Papa, then you, and then Kilroy.

Throughout December I thought of you. What would it be like if you were here? If you were here surely your brother wouldn’t be… and that is a difficult concept for me to sit with for too long. I’m still navigating this whole parenting thing with you out there wherever you are and your Brother here with us. It’s an interesting thing living with both grief and joy, feeling content and yet longing at the same time… Before you I didn’t understand how complex human emotions and experiences could be. I didn’t understand how loss could impact someone’s experiences for the rest of their life. For years and years- even when things are going well. And now I’m navigating it all day by day. It’s easier, for sure, than it once was but I won’t ever return to that blissful, ignorant way of living that I once knew.

Ordering our holiday cards I couldn’t help but quickly pass by the overly joyful, cheery, and innocently gleeful card options. I know all too well that this time of year can be beyond difficult for so many. And in all honesty I’m a bit cynical. I worry that if I send out a message that is too jolly or blissful the universe will seek to correct me and another shoe will drop. So I scrolled through options and took quite some time to make a decision. A simple Happy Holidays in a classic color would have to do- even though in many ways I feel as though my heart could sing this holiday season with all the colors and messages of pure happiness.

I struggle sometimes with truly and completely experiencing joy after the deep devastating sadness of losing you. It’s not uncommon for guilt to creep in after I’ve had too much fun or felt too much happiness. But this December you made sure to send me messages to let me know it was okay to truly soak up the moments with your brother. When Benjamin and I came down with the flu the message on my tea was often one of flowers. At first I thought it was strange- I’ve never had a message on my tea about flowers. And after your second message I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. You were gently nudging me to listen. And once I listened I felt much more peace with embracing and enjoying this very special Christmas.

Maybe flowers are the stars of the earth, Amelia. Maybe there is some greater meaning here about how the stars I say you were born into are aligned with the flowers that make me feel close to you. What I know for sure, however, is that I’m glad I live in a place where your flowers can grow. And I’m thankful for your flowers that continue to bloom on Christmas Day.

Uncategorized

Time

kristinamariedaily

It’s been nearly four months since I last wrote to you, Amelia. Four months seems so long, yet so brief all at once. Time has an interesting way of dragging when life is tough and flying by in an instant when life is easier. The first year after we lost you- experiencing every first milestone, every first holiday, and every first anniversary without you here time felt like an eternity. And now this last year with your brother here- experiencing every first milestone, every first holiday, and every first anniversary with him here time has passed by much more quickly than I ever anticipated. When I stop to think about it I feel as though I cannot grasp the concept of time anymore. Sometimes I wonder how in the world I got here. Other times it feels like I’ve been here all along. In many ways it feels like just yesterday we were saying both hello and goodbye to you but in reality it’s been a while.

The past few months have been incredibly busy. Sometimes hectic even. We’ve traveled, had visitors, caught Covid among other things, and we’ve added more activities to our plate than we probably should’ve. I’ve had moments where I could not catch my breath. We have Benji’s first birthday and holidays quickly approaching. We had the 4th anniversary of losing your Papa (talk about the concept of time! This, too, seems like it was just yesterday) and for a few days I had to make an effort to slow down time so that I could sit with some lingering grief that took me by surprise. It’s been difficult lately to find any free time, but no matter what you have never left my mind. 

Amelia, you are always in the place of my mind that is carved out for you. Most days you move to the front of my mind, at least for a little while. Some days I spend a little extra time thinking about you. On October 15th we lit your candle again for an hour, for the third year in a row, and we thought about you and all of the other babies who didn’t get a chance to stay here. It’s not often I look at your photos, but on October 15th we sat with the photo of your feet for the full hour. Your sweet little feet. That time was yours. When the concept of time makes it hard to remember, photos like this one remind me of what it was like to have you physically here with us for the short amount of time that we did.

On October 23rd, as I was walking through the back yard at night your garden caught my eye and once again you moved right up to the front of my mind for a little while. I thought about how pretty your garden looked with some flower blossoms in late October and the thought made me smile. I thought about how soon we will have some freezing weather and once again your garden will rest until spring when I can plant again. I am so fortunate to live in a place warm enough to have flowers until late fall/winter, but every winter I still have to endure a few months without the beauty of your garden and the daily reminders that you are still all around me. Every winter it becomes more challenging to find you and to carve out time for you.

October 23, 2023. At night your garden caught my eye. It’s still colorful in late October in the darkness.

And while time may feel as though it is passing me by too quickly and yet not quickly enough I will always cherish my time spent with you.

Uncategorized

There you are…

kristinamariedaily

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. We entered July. Our third July without you. And you have been on my mind. Every single day, you have been on my mind. Are you able to hear my thoughts about you? Sometimes it seems when I think about you often I come across a sweet patch of wild flowers that makes me feel as though you are near. Many times I think of you while I’m driving and shortly after I think of you I drive past pretty wild flowers on the side of the road. I always wish I could photograph them. As if photographing these flowers is a way to photograph you.

These are the flowers I came across this morning in the most perfectly unexpected location. When I saw them I thought “There you are!”

Your little floral footprints are here to remind me that you are with us always.

Today is your Papa’s birthday… his fourth birthday in heaven… but you probably already know that. And in four days it’ll be July 14th. A special day for us- July 14, 2021 was the day you were due to be born, if things had worked out. A day that had been carved into my heart and soul, as I anticipated you growing safely in my belly until sometime around that day when you would end up safely in my arms. Now, every year it is a day to think of you and reflect. Every July I think of you often.

The past few months we’ve watched your garden grow. In the heat of July in Texas a few of the flowers have not survived, but the vast majority have. I’ve thought of you every time I prune & water the flowers. I thought of you today planting new zinnias where some dahlias have not survived. I’ve thought of you as I hold Benjamin near your garden, showing him all of the beautiful flowers full of color and life. His little hand reaching out to the flowers almost feels like he is reaching for you. I wish he could know you.

I’ve thought of you while watching Benjamin enchanted when the wind chimes sing a gentle song and I’ve wondered who you would be today. Lately we’ve seen our friends two year old little girls swimming, smiling, eating, playing, and running around; and I think about what it would be like with you here doing the same. I wonder if I’d appreciate all the little moments with you the way I do with Benjamin, because of you. Because of everything we went through with you. Because we know how lucky we are here today after having known you, loved you, and lost you.

I think about you all the time. I love you all the same.

Uncategorized

Even those who never fully blossom bring beauty into the world…

kristinamariedaily

Well my sweet Amelia… it’s 2023 and it’s time for your garden to grow for its third season.

When we planted your first garden in 2021 I was utterly heartbroken. I was the version of me who was shattered into a million different pieces with no instructions for how to put me back together. I couldn’t see how beautiful the future would be but I had a dream that each year as winter turned into spring I would plant a new garden to care for and tend to just as I would for you if you were here. I had a glimmer of a vision that someday our family would be able to enjoy your garden year in and year out, together. But that year the fog of grief was thick and heavy. I learned a lot that first season… replacing a few plants that couldn’t survive the hot summer… figuring out how to prune some flowers and allow others to do the pruning on their own. I learned how frequently to water and watched some wildflowers that started as seed paper grow next to your flower bed… first in a small pot that was replaced several more times with larger pots to accommodate the growth. It was such a cool experience from start to finish, despite the sadness your absence brought. It gave me purpose during my darkest year and it brought some beauty to our home which held some of the most horrific memories.

Your first garden 2021

Then came 2022 and I had just found out I was expecting your little brother. Your garden took on a new form as I planted seeds that required less labor and watched them sprout. Some didn’t make it. Others grew… and grew so wild I couldn’t keep up. I had to learn how to oil the cedar flower bed that had become greyed and weathered. I had to plant some grown flowers to fill the sparseness between seedlings. I had to fight with mushrooms that had taken up residence between the flowers for several weeks. And through one of the hottest summers your garden that was once full of color was a bed of mostly green and brown with a flower here and there. It feels symbolic reflecting on the challenges this 2022 garden brought as I faced challenging and often conflicting emotions throughout my second pregnancy.

Your second garden 2022

This year… 2023… your garden is full of color and joy. My heart feels lighter and my soul feels renewed. I long for you and also feel a sense that we are right where we belong. If ever there were a year filled with song this would be the one. As I shopped for the flowers I would plant this season I scoured the aisles for anything bright and vibrant. I gravitated to flowers with colors blending into other colors… and colors I’ve never gravitated to before. It feels right to fill this season of your garden & this season in my life with brilliance. Maybe it’s because we’ve come so far… so far as a family and on our journey of loving you… but this garden is my proudest yet. It is truly a wonder to behold… looking at your garden while the wind gently blows the sweet melody of your chimes. It’s a wonder to behold how a little pot of pink flowers survived the winter ice and came back brighter than ever. I’ve never felt your presence more, Amelia, and I love it.

Even those who never fully blossom bring beauty into the world.

-Unknown
Your third garden 2023
These little flowers survived the winter freeze. A sign from you? Absolutely.
Uncategorized

I Haven’t Lost You…

kristinamariedaily

In the still of the winter, it’s difficult to feel you here with us. Even more so this winter with how busy (and tired) your brother & Daisy are keeping me. But I know that soon the air will turn warm, our grass will green all over again, and I will be able to prepare and plant your next garden. I can’t wait. I can’t wait to pick out the flowers at the nursery that make me think of you… and I can’t wait to show Benjamin all of the beautiful colors as they bloom. I can’t wait to feel you here with us more often again. It will be so nice to spend more time in the yard where your presence is strong… It will be so nice to have moments for just the two of us as I prune and tend to your next garden.

A few weeks back we had some winter weather. And although your garden is brown with flowers that are ready to be cleared to make room for new, I couldn’t help but stop and photograph what I saw.

The icicles dripping all around your flower bed were so pretty and just like you, they would only be here a short time. After taking Daisy inside I had to sneak back out with my phone to capture the moment. I know how important it is to capture moments before they are gone.

In a few weeks we will celebrate your second birthday among the stars and spring will arrive with new perspective and growth. But for now, my sweet girl, I want you to know that I haven’t lost you. Not even a little bit. Not at all.

Uncategorized

Messages From You

kristinamariedaily

As I finally take some time to slow down, sit outside in the warm breeze, and listen to your wind chimes… I realize, Amelia, that I have been too busy preparing for the arrival of your brother to notice you as often as I should. We are in a season of endless to-do lists, trying to stay busy to keep the anxiety from creeping in, and preparation for what is to come. But I know you are there. You are there quietly loving me and cheering me on as I waddle around, nesting like I wasn’t able to do for you.

Every now and then I still feel that pang of guilt…the longing and wishing I could’ve done all of the things I am now doing… with you safely inside my belly. As I begin to reconnect with old friends and meet their babies that would’ve been your friends… I sometimes still feel that slight hint of sadness that if you were here you’d be as big as them, talking like them, walking like them, and doing all of the same types of things. But I also feel myself turning a new corner. I can see these children who should be your friends and feel joy, happiness, and a sense of wonder at who you would’ve been.

A few weeks back we got the chance to have a maternity photo session with your brother and I asked you to give us some wildflowers. I still feel silly asking you and talking to you out loud… I’ve always felt pretty silly talking to your Papa out loud, as well… but I really wanted you to be represented in our photos and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try. A big storm came through that almost canceled our photo session, but then it cleared, a breeze came through, and a beautiful sunset came. I told myself not to be disappointed if there were no wildflowers from you. I’m not quite sure how I feel about miracles and it honestly didn’t make any sense that there would be wildflowers in Dallas in September after a hot, dry summer. But there you were. You answered me with the sweetest little patch of blue wildflowers at the very end of our photo session. We were able to include you in these photos after all.

Your message was loud and clear. You are here! And sometimes it is easy to find you… and other times I have to be sure to look for you in ways that may not be so clear.

I know the days are about to become busy with a new set of challenges… but I promise I will try my absolute best to slow down and look for you. Keep sending me messages, my sweet girl. You will always be a part of our family… a part of our story.

Uncategorized

It’s Been a While…

kristinamariedaily

Today is August 20th, 2022 and it feels wonderful outside at a “cool” 82 degrees. It’s been a while since I’ve written to you, Amelia, but it’s also been a while since I’ve been able to connect with you peacefully, outside in our yard near your garden. It’s just been too hot in Texas this summer. It’s been too hot to sit outside (unless in a pool!) and it’s been too hot for your garden to thrive and reach its full potential. I’m amazed by the Zinnias that continue to grow tall. They’re the only seeds that turned into flowers this year… but my view this morning is a bit more messy, a bit more wild, a bit more sparse than I would have liked to see. Your garden lacks the bright color of last summer and while I’m learning to accept that each year your garden will be different just as each year you would be different if you were here; I am hoping to plant a few new things and revive it for the last few months of warm weather. Maybe then I will share photos from start to finish.

August 20, 2022. Texas heat has not been kind to your garden this year…

Amelia, you’ve known the whole time, but it was only recently that we shared our news with everyone that we are cautiously anticipating the arrival of your baby brother in November. While we know how lucky we are, we also know how quickly we could lose him… and since March we have faced many emotions. Amongst the anxiety, fear, hope, and joy one of the most difficult emotions I have faced recently has no name to describe it… I long for both of you, but I know I can’t have both of you here with me. I have two separate places in my heart for each of you… but just like any parent with multiple living children I have to make sure to devote time to each of you and sometimes this is difficult to do. Sometimes I feel as though I am failing to give to you both equally.

When we made it through two anatomy scans with your brother and things looked great both your Daddy and I felt relief and allowed ourselves to celebrate a little knowing the anxiety would creep back in days later. Then I felt something like guilt… guilt that we get to celebrate milestones with him that we never got the chance to celebrate with you. When his estimated weight passed the 14.4 oz that you weighed when we delivered you, I again felt some relief… and then some guilt. When we made it to viability and started to trust that maybe he will make it safely to our arms… again there were conflicting emotions… relief and hope and guilt and sadness.

This whole pregnancy has been a series of check points… even becoming pregnant was a check point that took a full year and a lot of devastation to achieve. But prior to 20 weeks the check points were similar to yours… just with a lot more emphasis on reaching them this time knowing how quickly things can go wrong. Now we are at a point where with each check point we feel more and more hopeful that he will safely make it earth side and at the same time I wish we could’ve had this experience with you. It will never be fair, but it will forever be our story.

I know the next three months will have their own unique emotions… as we prepare for his arrival by completing the nursery that should’ve been yours… install a car seat where yours should’ve been… take maternity photos and newborn photos that I had imagined with you… and more… but one thing I want to make sure everyone knows is that your baby brother does not replace you. He is helping to heal our souls and fill up space in our hearts…but he will never fill the space that is carved out for you.

Grief is love, Amelia… and I will both love you and long for you forever. Thank you for sharing my heart with your brother and thank you for sending him to us when we had lost most of our hope. I look forward to the days when he can learn your story and help me with your garden. I look forward to showing him the beauty of all of the flowers we see around the world and hope he, too, develops an eye for all of the floral footprints you leave for us all.

Note: Pregnancy After Loss Support (PALS) is a resource that has helped me tremendously through this pregnancy. The instagram app, website, and pregnancy tracking app have all provided validation that I have needed during difficult moments. Pregnancy after loss is beautiful but not easy at all. There are complicated and messy emotions… and this resource (especially the articles published by other PAL parents) helps us to know we are not alone.