Uncategorized

Mend your garden and the butterflies will come…

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

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

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

Your second Birthday among the stars

Two whole years. Amelia, it’s been two years since you were born into the stars and since we were able to see you and hold you. Two years since we said hello and goodbye. And two years since the journey of loving and deeply missing you began. We’ve made it through two years of grief, trauma, and being the version of ourselves that we became when we lost you. Two years as your parents. Two years I wish could’ve been different but wouldn’t wish away because you have taught us so much.

This year we continued our traditions. Your Daddy, Daisy, Benjamin, and I wrote messages to you on another pink balloon and sent it to the sky. Another year… another set of messages. Did you see them?

Every once in a while I experience something strange. I see these little twinkles… almost like thousands of tiny white specks moving all over… as I look around. It happened just before we lost you, just before we found out we were expecting your brother, and again on your second birthday as I watched the balloon float up and up until I could no longer see it.

When this happens I have this overwhelming sense that one of my angels is there with me telling me something. Was it you? Were you there with us in that moment feeling the love that we were sending your way? Was it you wrapping your little arms around us? I hope this time it was you. What a sweet thought it is that maybe our little family was together for a moment.

Imagining our little family together for a moment. Not sure you’d be in such a big dress! But maybe you would on your second birthday!

One year ago I imagined what it would be like to send off your balloon while holding a baby… your little sibling. I wished and wished for this to come true before your second birthday and I’m so glad this year we got to have this experience. Benjamin is little but watching the wonder in his eyes through it all was incredible. He loved watching your birthday candle… the flame flickering back and forth. His attempted handprints on your balloon… this will forever be the first time he touched finger paint. I love that he will grow up knowing you and sending you messages with us. I imagine singing happy birthday to you, the messages he will scribble and write over the years, and talking with him about how old you would be and who you might be here on Earth with us.

Who would you be today if you were here with us? Would you have blonde hair or brown? Would your eyes squint like Benjamin’s when you smile and would you also have dimples? What would your voice sound like? Would you have similar interests to the other little girls we know who are around your age? Would you run around, climb things, play in your kitchen? I wonder what kind of toys you’d be asking for this birthday… would we celebrate with cake and ice cream? Or would you prefer cookies?

For the rest of my life all I can do is imagine who you are… and who you would be if you were here with us. Imagining a life that could never be is both comforting and sad. But I’ll never stop imagining, Amelia, because you are my first born… my baby girl who deserved so much more. My girl who I both connect with and love through flowers and traditions like these. My girl who no matter what and no matter where is always on my mind.

Happy second birthday among the stars, Amelia.

I love you,

Mommy

Uncategorized

I Haven’t Lost You…

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

New Years Eve

Today I’ve felt a little off. A little sad under all the happiness I feel. It took most of the day to figure it out… but I realized what it is. Today is New Years Eve and although I’m right where I’m supposed to be, a part of me is missing you. For the first time in a while I’m excited to see what 2023 brings our little family, but I’m also missing you.

Two years ago we spent an excited NYE with you inside my belly, learning you were a healthy baby girl with our family during a zoom gender reveal as this was the first year of the pandemic and we were all keeping our distance. What a way to spend our NYE, ringing in the new year celebrating the baby girl we would be welcoming in 2021! Finally, we would turn the page to a new chapter that would include you. We were overjoyed with the news of you! Our family was overjoyed. Your Daddy and I picked up a steakhouse dinner and snuggled as we watched the ball drop at midnight. This night was one where we felt so certain of the future… It was one of the last innocent, carefree moments of our pregnancy with you because just a few days later the bleeding started. And many weeks later we would receive the horrible news that led to us losing you.

Pink confetti! I will never forget the moment we burst the balloon and saw the confetti.

One year ago we also spent NYE at home, this time with a dear friend visiting and you among the stars. We had lost you and by NYE we had been on a heartbreaking nine month journey of navigating life without you and facing infertility treatments and procedures with no idea when we might get another chance at parenthood. We had experienced many firsts without you and had experienced many fertility setbacks at the same time. I’d be lying if I said New Years Eve 2021 was anything but depressing. I didn’t have a 2021 highlight reel to share, no top 9 Instagram post to share… I couldn’t even bear to look on social media to see everyone else’s highlight reels. Life felt unfair. The new year did not bring any promises. How could it after we lost you? How could it after so many infertility failures and setbacks?

This year… Amelia, this NYE our evening is similar but our world is so vastly different. We are once again at home… but this year your baby brother, Benjamin, has joined our world! And Kilroy has joined you among the stars. Today we can reflect on a few hard moments, but also all there is to be thankful for in this year. There was so much good in 2022. It started out sad, with a failed embryo transfer and your first birthday among the stars. But soon after this we found out Benjamin was on his way… and although our anxieties were high there was still so much joy experiencing our subsequent pregnancy. There has been so much peace in welcoming him earth side and experiencing parenthood the way it is supposed to be. This NYE we can look forward to the next year and all the joy that is yet to come. Your brother has filled our hearts and healed our souls in ways I had always hoped and wished for.

Family photo. All that’s missing is you & Kilroy.

But no matter how much space Benjamin takes up in our hearts, there will always be a space carved out for you, Amelia. In times of great joy and happiness my heart will still ache for you… even just a little bit. And days like today may always hit a little harder or leave me feeling a bit off. The days are a lot easier now with much less heartache, but I will always love you. And as long as I love you I will miss you… even just a little bit!

Uncategorized

Messages From You

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…

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.