Letting Go

I almost titled this post, Let it Go, mostly because Briz sings it ALL of the time and it gets stuck in my head.  And she has added a nice new verbrato every time she sings a song.  I have to hide and laugh, because she is so serious when she sings.

 But this post is a bit more serious.  I have had some insights into my grief lately that I wanted to try to share as concisely as possible.  Since I've been pregnant, my grief has manifested itself differently.  One thing that I have found is that for the most part, I haven't felt anything towards this baby I'm carrying.  I could care less about anything baby related, and I almost dread thinking about her arrival.  Not exactly how you would hope to feel and certainly not how I have felt with my other kids (although I did have my own worries).  This has concerned me, but not enough to push me to figure it out.

I still see a therapist every few months just kind of as a check in, to keep an eye on my grief and help me manage life and take care of myself.  My last appointment came just a few days before I had my 20 week ultrasound.  I shared my apathy with him.  And I shared that I am nervous about this baby taking the place of my forever baby, Holland.  And what I discovered was that in my own way, I am trying to keep Holland alive.  I don't feel like I am generally, because I don't talk about her a lot, I will mention her, but I don't feel like I have been over the top.  But internally I feel this huge obligation to still take care of her in the ways I can, now that she is dead.  Whether that's by visiting her grave, letting people know that I had a daughter that died, or making sure we involve her in family things.  I feel an immense amount of guilt if I fail with one of these things, because I am her Mom and she's my baby and I have to take care of her right?

(the freaky one eye open while she's snoozing).

I had to remind myself that Holland doesn't need me anymore.  She is doing great.  I am her mother, but she doesn't need me and it is impossible to maintain the same kind of relationship with someone that is not physically present.  I have my memories, and I have my sweet experiences with her every now and then.  But that's it.  And by trying to maintain this close relationship, I am trying to keep her alive in a way.  I have been afraid what having another baby would mean to that relationship, and so I think I have just dreaded it.  It's scary to think of letting her go because what does that mean for me?

So often I engage in these behaviors, particularly as a Mom, because Holland died.  Example: I check on Briz in the middle of the night every night.  She doesn't need me to and I certainly never did that before Holland died.  It's not by any means some extreme behavior, but I do it simply as an obligation to Holland, to try to hold on to her and the meaning of her death.  Letting go means that I don't define my behaviors as a mother from her death, that I simply parent as me.  And it means that this baby girl inside of me has nothing to do with Holland.

It will be a process to really let this sink in, but I already feel a bit like the "old Lexie."  And I already feel more open to connecting with this baby girl.  I have a lot of stubborn moments, where I think "No, I can't completely let her go.  It's too hard."  But I am now finally starting to understand what the final phase of acceptance is.  I thought I had already accepted, but being pregnant, and starting a new stage has helped me realize that like always, there is more work to do! :)

This Baby

I was trying to think of a post about this pregnancy/baby that summed it up, but then it all seemed very pessimistic, and perhaps one day this kid of mine will be offended.

After my last post, things got better.  Mostly cause I laid on the coast of the Caribbean for a week.  Hard to complain about that.  But here are some updates since . .

- My belly grew a lot in Cancun.  I am now 21 weeks and I feel like I about 30 (or how I have felt in the past at 30 weeks).

- The big news of course was I found out we are having a girl!  I never know what I am going to have.   This is the first pregnancy where I had somewhat of a hunch and I thought it might be a girl.  But I just chalked that up to only having known girls.  I wanted a boy.  I don't really care about this being a girl, I was just bummed because I wanted to feel like I had the freedom to be done with this kid if I wanted to.  I know I still could be, but I think it would make Nick very sad to never have a boy (and me too).

- Even though I was a little bummed, it was so fun watching this crazy little girl.  And she is crazy.  She kicks and punches non stop.  Her hands are always in fists and she is just boxing my uterus all of the time.   She doesn't stop.  This is her fourth ultrasound now and the technicians get very frustrated with her because she has never cooperated and never stopped.  I also loved seeing her sweet little profile, which of course included chubby cheeks. 

(Sidenote, I know people say you can't see much from ultrasounds, and perhaps that may be true with one, but after having 7 or 8 with each child, you get to know them pretty well.  Briz at her 20 weeks had a huge belly - still does.  Holland had really chubby cheeks, and she stayed that way).

- I also got another nice little surprise during my ultrasound.   I found out that I have Total Placenta Previa (I should have known that the baby using my placenta as a bed/trampoline was unusual).  This means that the placenta is covering my cervix completely.  It's fairly common, particularly at this stage, but the fact that it's total makes it a little more unusual.  I will most likely have to have a scheduled C section and will be fairly high risk the third trimester because you can bleed and have early signs of labor.  My doctor already is telling me to take it easy and Nick is getting mad at me for doing too much.  I am okay with the C section but nervous about managing my life for the next 19 weeks.  How the heck do you "take it easy" when you have a busy 4 year old and two jobs?  

At this point, I sort of have a different attitude.  My general response to everything has become, "Whatever."  I don't mean that in an apathetic way, because I do find myself getting more excited about this little girl.  But I just realize over and over how little control I have over things.  So bring on the migraines, the placenta previa, the cholestasis (at least I'm not sick anymore!).  It will just make me love this firecracker even more.

Real Pregnancy Update

I am 17 weeks now, almost 4 months.  There are days when I feel like this is the longest pregnancy that I could imagine, and others when it feels like it is going by so quickly.  I am just starting to "pop" and I started feeling the baby kick quite a bit this last week (it actually already is hurting me - not a good sign!).  But overall, it's been a strange experience being pregnant with my third child.

I am not one of those people who has said that I have hated pregnancy or that I feel like I have awful pregnancies.  I've also never particularly loved being pregnant.  With this pregnancy, I'm not sure I would use the word hate, but I'm definitely towards that side of the scale this time around.  I've experience nausea before, throwing up every so often, learning the tricks of the trade where I avoid certain foods, eat every so often, blah blah blah.  But those tricks have not mattered at all this pregnancy.  I started getting what I would call average morning sickness right away, lasting about two weeks, and I thought, "Oh yeah, I know how this goes."  But right around 6 weeks it changed, and it turned into morning, afternoon, evening sickness, all the time.  I had the hardest time deciding what to eat, it literally changed every day.  And then I got smart and decided to choose the foods that were easy to throw up.  I was miserable.  I have always looked at other women who get really sick during pregnancy and have felt so bad for them, thinking I could never do it.  Well, I was right to feel bad for them.  And I was right to think that I couldn't do really do it, 'cause I didn't really. Things in my life were sort of chaotic.  Luckily, that ended about 15 weeks.

Right around 12 weeks, I started getting chronic migraines.  I get migraines normally fairly so often, but that is one thing I love about being pregnant - no migraines.  Wrong.  They lasted about 3 weeks, and I was able to get through them with some newly prescribed medication.  The migraines turned into just average headaches around 15 weeks.  

Right around 15 weeks the itching started (yes, THAT itching).  Luckily, LUCKILY, it was fairly moderate and came off and on.  I got testing done right away and right now my levels are within the normal range, so phew nothing to worry about yet.  It's still there, but again, it doesn't keep me up at nights like it eventually will.

I started feeling good.  It was amazing.  I felt hope that I was in my second trimester groove, and even started bragging about it.  Then 16  weeks, I got slammed with the worst flu I've ever had.  I think for me, the flu has always been a two to three day thing where I rest a lot, take some pain meds, maybe if my temp gets high call in an antibiotic.  But I'm very good at sleeping, and that has seemed to work to my advantage.  This flu was different.  Apparently, there is some awful flu going around the schools, so maybe I got that, I don't know.  But I was literally in bed for 5 days straight.  I walked downstairs usually once a day to see if I could find something to eat.  Other than that, I was holed up in my room, sweating, in pain, and in absolute misery.  Luckily I was able to get some meds, and that has started the mending, but I am pretty sure it will take a while before I am completely healed.  I still can't eat (it's been a week), my throat is extremely swollen, I have a cough, and I get winded when I walk about 10 feet.  This flu sort of traumatized me and I'm not exaggerating.  There were a few times where I hoped I would slip into a coma or something so that I could escape the pain.  Nick and Briz are now fighting it, and so we are not socializing much, but I'm just glad I am able to get out of my room.

And comes the last piece of the puzzle to my pregnancy thus far.  My emotional stability.  I knew that being pregnant again/having a newborn would be a bit of a roller coaster for me.  I was talking openly with my doctors about it and my therapist before I got pregnant.  And I was overwhelmingly grateful when I first found out (we had been trying for a bit and I was starting to get a bit worried that we would need to try some more intensive fertility treatments), so I was just so excited initially.  I like to think that may have lasted a bit longer had I not been so sick, but who knows.  Either way, the emotional struggle started fairly early.  I started having nightmares every night about death, about my baby dying, both in-utero and outside.  I had dreams filled with anxiety and self doubt (Luckily most of those dreams have subsided).  During my times when I am awake, I question myself.  I wonder if I can handle another baby.  I feel like I have forgotten all about being a mom to a newborn.  I am scared that I will be disappointed that this baby isn't Holland.  I feel guilty at times that I am forgetting my other baby.   I feel angry that I am pregnant for the third time and yet most people don't know that.  My family seems in a strange way more incomplete than before.  And above all, of course, I am beyond scared that I won't be able to keep my baby alive.  

I wouldn't normally consider myself a worrier (analytic sure), and I know you might be thinking that some of those thoughts and feelings are normal.  They aren't for me.  You also might be thinking that they are kind of absurd thoughts, but it's difficult to reassure me because of my last experience with a baby.  It's funny how many times I hear, "Oh well, they'll survive," or "Well,  my kids haven't died yet . . ."  I don't have that rationale in my mind anymore.  So . . . I worry.  And yeah, I'm pregnant, so chances are I'm slightly more emotional than normal anyways :)

I love being a mother more than anything else.  I have craved it my whole life, and never did I crave it more than after Holland died, but as we all know, being a mother is a complicated thing.  We face so much physical and emotional pain, uncertainty, doubt, insecurity, and fear.    It is hard to face a lot of those negative emotions surrounding motherhood when I would love to be a googly eyed pregnant woman, just elated about onesies and baby nurseries and showers.  But I'm not.  I truthfully don't care about any of that (for now :) ).    

I have had some of the most tender moments of my life through the last few months because even when I doubt myself, I have found strength through others, particularly my daughters.  So for that I'm grateful.  And maybe soon once I can eat food joyfully, then I will be less grouchy :)

Holland's 2nd

Holland had her second birthday and it was a sweet simple day for our family.  Briz had been ecstatic about having a birthday party for her and eating cake and ice cream.

Nick and I shed some tears thinking about what Holly would be like as a two year old and reflecting on all of the many hard moments in the last two years.  But thinking about her as a two year old, and also about her birth makes me smile.  I'm glad we can do something to make the smiles continue.

We met at her grave with some family and friends to write messages on balloons and let them go.  It's funny, but we got just as excited to see how high the balloons get.  This year, they seemed to follow the sun, right where it was peaking out from the clouds.

And then there was some that got caught in the phone wires :/  Good job Papa!

Her grave is starting to look a bit more mature.  For a while, the grass wasn't grown in, but now it's starting to look more like the others.  It looked particularly pretty that day with all of the flowers people brought.

We got a lot of support from our family and friends, who let balloons go. We loved it!  It seems kind of silly, but it really does mean a lot to us.  

Above is our friends Steven, Meredith, and Weston letting go of balloons in Massachusetts.

Paul, Mac, Dane, and Lincoln in California.

Grandma Great in Utah.

Pops in Utah.

Briz asked that Holly would send her a rainbow for her birthday.  Brittany sent us this picture.  Briz thought it was pretty amazing.  But she was also not surprised at all.  

Daniel, Carly, Sadie, and Elise in Utah.

Molly, Michele, and Maryjane in Utah.  And it was MJ's birthday too!  What a nice cousin.  Aunt?

Ronell, Bri, Palmer, Portia, Teya, and Thatcher in Washington.

After balloons, we had cake and ice cream at our house.  It was a rainbow cake, per Brizzy's request (notice a theme?).  

It was a good day.

Brief Encounters Lessons

So I was able to go to a Brief Encounters meeting recently that was really powerful.  There were a lot of new losses there and that always makes for an emotional meeting.  There were some severely tragic stories and I just feel for these parents that have recently lost their children, often holding on to so much guilt and self blame.

There were a few things that I had reactions to, so bare with me.  The first was the story of another mother there.  For anyone who knows something about my pregnancies, I have Cholestasis the last trimester.  While it's a huge pain, it's never presented a big problem to my children (that I know of).  I have to get induced, but other than that, my babies are chubby, healthy, and happy.  But this woman's child died from her having Cholestasis.  The toxins crossed the placenta (which is something that they try to monitor) and caused traumatic brain injury to the baby.  The baby was born alive, but they had to put him on life support and eventually decide to take him off life support.  As you can imagine, this scared me a lot.  I am already anxious at the thought of having another baby, but I hadn't ever thought that my cholestasis would be a big factor in that anxiety.  Sheesh.  It just reminds of me how vulnerable we are as women and parents, and how little we can control, and that having a child is such a risk, period.

The other thought I had was about anger.  A lot of times at group, women will talk about the anger they feel at other moms, other people, and even other babies.  I have told myself that I will get angry at some point, because after all, it is one of the five stages of grief.  But I haven't too much.  And I have kind of wondered why (because getting angry isn't something I struggle with :) ).  I realized that I have had angry moments but I have very directive ways of dealing with it.  The first and foremost is spirituality.  Going to church, praying, writing in my journal, reading my scriptures, and above all, going to the temple, I believe it has helped give me perspective on Holland's death and death in general.  I have had those moments where I am mad at God and mad at the Universe and wonder "Why me?"  But I have always felt God close, not necessarily giving me the answer I want, but giving me the peace I need.  The second answer I would say is exercise.  Right after Holland died, I utilized the trainer that Nick had gotten me for my previous birthday and I worked out like crazy.  It worked out well because I wasn't working for a while and I had a lot of help with Holland.  I remember there have been many times where I have turned on my angry music as loud as I can and just tune out the world while I lift weights or run hills, and I will just cry an angry cry.  It feels good to sweat and cry and feel like I am shedding the anger.  I can feel it, but I don't have to keep it inside. The third and final thing is definitely Briz.  Not really a choice on my part.  But she makes me laugh so much that I can't help but let go of irritations and anger (I might also add there are plenty of days where she is the contributing factor to my anger).

I thought I would contribute one of my angry songs that I like to work out too (this one has no swearing :) )

Just Some Thoughts

Sometimes I will sit down to write on my blog at the end of the day, not quite sure if I am even going to post what I write.  At times it just feels too personal.  But I also enjoy feeling the catharsis that comes with sharing some of my thoughts and feelings.  And I certainly always love the support.  But I often feel greedy asking for it.  I often feel selfish. Everyone is going through their own struggles, they are getting by in their own worlds.  And it feels a bit risky, even if it just out in the "blogosphere."

I have been thinking about my sweet Holland lately.  It probably seems as if I am always writing that, but it isn't always the case.  I obviously think about her every day, but there are times where I seemed to be fixed on some element of grieving her.  And it seems to take up a lot of space in my mind when it's quiet.  But often I think about her as a simple passing thought.

For Easter we were in Florida with Nick's family at Disneyworld.  It was a total blast.  Chaotic and crowded, but a blast all the same.  And Briz and her cousins got very spoiled by their grandparents (no surprise there!).  And I was a bit torn because I thought that I would do Easter in our home when we got back.  It seemed kind of silly and I felt like Briz was already way too spoiled, so I just figured I would forget about it, no big deal.  But even though it was kind of silly, it felt like a loss.  I have a few marked occasions where I get to include Holland into our family traditions, and celebrating spiritual Holidays like Easter and Christmas are a few of those times.  So I missed it and I missed her.  Easter holds such more meaning to me than it ever did before, because my testimony of resurrection is so real now.  And I get to think about reuniting with my daughter.  I found myself wanting to remember her around this time.  I craved it and am grateful that at the very least I am able to recognize these feelings and then do something about it.  It is sad, but it brings me peace and hope.

I get jealous of other people getting to share their beautiful children with the world, which is probably why  I share way too much of Briz.  I don't like feeling that Holland is just my secret baby that I can't talk about because the sadness is uncomfortable.  Her mortal life was short but she is still my daughter and often all I have to share of her are the feelings I am left with.  But I am self conscious of being "pushy" and constantly reminding people of my dead daughter.  I want to talk about her as much as I talk about my other daughter, but she isn't growing up in front of people's eyes, I don't have new pictures of her or new stories to tell.  I have my grief and my few brief memories.  And I have my faith and spiritual experiences.  Well, that and other babies around me that I just want to love way too much!

On another note concerning Easter, this is the Easter song Briz learned and she loves it.  I love hearing her sing it, as well.

Moving On

This title may be misleading a bit.  I don't have any extreme epiphanies or anything like that.  Just a few thoughts.  First, I love spring.  Even in the Northwest, where it's still cloudy and rainy, I love the fact that it's getting warmer and I can hear birds chirping.  I love the spring colors in stores.  And I also love the idea of a fresh start: a clean house, some new clothes, its refreshing.  I have been getting excited about organizing/cleaning my house.
But in that process I have discovered some things, things that I hadn't realized before.  I realized how much I have still been holding on to my sweet baby girl, even in just things I keep around the house.
I am not sure if it's because she was the first, but with Briz, I was always so excited about each new stage.  I was excited for new clothes, new shoe sizes.  I felt like I was constantly packing stuff up, organizing her things.  And then I remember getting out all of my baby stuff for Holly a few weeks before she was born.  I would pull out the boxes and go, "Oh yeah. . . .! I forgot about this little outfit!"  And I was excited to use some of my baby stuff again.
About 6 months after she died, Nick and I cleaned out her room, moved Brizzy's stuff, and sort of reorganized our stuff upstairs.  I put away my bottles and my small diapers and all of that stuff.  But I still kept out a lot of my "in-between" stuff.  Stuff like sippy cups and bibs, little baby toys.  I figured Briz would use it for a while.  But Briz is definitely not a little toddler anymore.  She is a full fledge girl.  And the part of me that used to get so excited about a new stage with Briz gets sad and anxious now.  She has been potty trained for about a year and a half, and yesterday, I finally put diapers and wipes away.  I think I had it out and kept it out always figuring that I would use it again fairly soon.  But recently, just recently, it has dawned on me that I won't be using that stuff soon.  It has made me incredibly sad, but also it has helped me to accept the facts of where I am at.  I realize how much of me has been waiting around.  I'm not really sure what I have been waiting for, truthfully.  But I used to not be like that.  I used to try to seize every moment (well, at least, most moments).  It is something I have worked on in my life, enjoying the moment I am in, rather than constantly waiting and looking for when I will be happy (and trust me, it's been a very conscious effort)  With Holly dying, I lost this completely. And I don't know, maybe I was waiting just for the pain to lessen, but either way, I am ready to enjoy and embrace each moment of my life.  Or I should say, ready to try.

And on another note, in my efforts to be more present, Briz has decided to start being extremely difficult lately.  She is an extremely smart, stubborn little girl, but sometimes to a detriment.  This morning, she was so frustrated with me because I wouldn't read her stories before nap time (because she refused to use the word please), and so she went from hitting me, to throwing her jewelry at me, and then eventually spitting.  I had to turn my face because I couldn't stop laughing.  What a funny, dramatic girl.  Hopefully I can laugh when she's 16 and doing that :)

18 months

I have begun to notice that with markers, the actual day of the marker is not too hard for me.  Because I anticipate things a lot, it is the beginning of the month that is difficult for me.  I realized with the beginning of February, that Holland would be 18 months old on the 22nd!  I can't even describe how strange that is to think about.  In so many ways, she is frozen in time as my two month old and I expect time everywhere else to freeze as well.  She would be going into Nursery this month.  She would be walking and talking a bit.  She would no doubt be a chubby thing and probably bugging her big sister quite often.  18 months.  I can't wait to be with an 18 month old Holly.  

Since her death, I have tried to not think too much about what she "would be" at the current moment.  At least not too much, because truthfully, it just makes me way too too sad.  And I also don't like dwelling on "what-if's" or "what-would-be's."  I don't think they are very productive or helpful.  I am busy enough trying to cope with my life the way it is and accept my "new normal"!  But I found myself crying and smiling thinking about her as a little toddler, finding bittersweet joy in being reminded of her as a person, a spirit, my daughter.  And she will be my daughter through every stage of life once she gets to live it, just as she still my daughter, busy in heaven.  

I like to think of her as the complete person she is, not perfect, but as a girl with her own distinct spirit and personality.  The pictures below remind me of that.  She HATED getting out of the bath and HATED getting her clothes changed. She was a sweet thing almost all of the time, but when this happened, she would scream bloody murder and she would turn all red.  We would just laugh at her.  And boy were her arms strong!  She would clench them like she was flexing her biceps and sometimes it would take both Nick and I to pin her down to change her.  I always joked how I had hope that she would be our athlete (cause Briz is ALL girl).  

 And she was also a big snorter.  This little picture makes me think of how during sleeping, she would snort a lot.  And sometimes we would be in public and she would snort loud and it was a bit awkward. But she loved to cuddle so perfectly.

I love thinking about the moments with Holland that made me laugh.  One of my favorite things in life is to laugh at/with my kids :)

I miss my sweet girl.  As much as I did 16 months ago, and in some ways more.  It's a little daunting thinking and realizing that I will always miss her the way I do now, but I am glad I  have something to remind me constantly of the next life and my reunion with her. And I am still learning from her death as I suspect I always will.  This last week Briz was getting sort of frustrated with me as we were talking about why babies die.  She wanted to know the exact reason why Holland died.  She kept trying to say that Holland was sick.  But she finally accepted and has still been chewing on the answer of, "Someday we will find out, probably in heaven."  Her go-to answer these days to any question to which we don't know the answer is, "Welp, we'll find out in heaven!"  

I love being a Mom and learning so much about God, eternity, the atonement, and myself in the process.  

Merry Christmas Holland

Every moment of grief for me is a learning experience.  I learn something about my new life and losing my daughter.  That in and of itself is a blessing.  It's a source of growth, which is the purpose of life right?

This month, I was surprised at some moments how much easier this Christmas was than last.  But then there were times where I was surprised at how hard it was.  It's always around big groups of family, because I want to shout from the rooftops that someone is missing.  But I also don't want to always be the buzzkill.  I am grateful for my family that makes an effort to include her in our festivities without me throwing a big stink about it.  

As usual, we went to her grave and went Caroling.  We also watched her updated video that I made.  I loved sharing it with the Hugh cousins, who never had a chance to meet her and weren't able to attend her funeral.  We opened up Holly's stocking first on Christmas with presents that remind us of the true meaning of Christmas, and Mike and Julie gave us their Christmas present to Holland.  Even with those things, it doesn't feel like enough. 

I am a lot harder on myself than I used to be I think in all ways.  I am always feeling like I don't do enough to remember my little girl.  And I want to remember her cause I miss her.  

Grandpa Barney

Grandpa Barney passed away on November 6th, 2012.  We will miss him: his sweet smile, his compliments, his kindness, his everlasting love of golf and sports, his self-deprecation, his desire to hear about our lives, and his willingness to run errands for anyone, anytime :)
Even though we weren't there, I'm so glad we were able to write him a small letter and say good-bye.  I wish I could have been there to give him a hug and kiss and selfishly pass along a message to our daughter.  But we were able to make a last minute drive to Utah to attend his funeral.  And I am so so so glad we were able to be there.  I can't imagine missing it.  Even though it's hard, I have felt that there is something so incredibly sweet about grieving together as a family.  Some of my favorite moments from that day:

- Briz, Libby, and Kloey being so excited to sing "I am a child of God," during the funeral with all of their other cousins, that they ran up to the podium a few minutes too early.  They stood there next to "Pops," while he was still talking.  And while I was playing the piano during the song, I could hear Libby belting it out.

- Looking at pictures of Grandpa Barney, and seeing all of the family genes that have been passed down through the Barneys.

- Seeing all of our cousins, aunts and uncles, and just giving each other lots of hugs, taking a lot of pictures.  I love Nick's extended family.  It feels weird to even type that because really, they are just my extended family :)

One of the most special things for me was to see Grandpa in his casket; different, but he looked so handsome.  I had two overwhelming feelings when I saw him:
1) I was reminded, no not reminded, almost like smacked upside the head with the repeated affirmation that life is eternal.

2) I grieved a bit of Holland's death as well.  This is the first funeral that I have been to since hers and even though it was so extremely different, I was reminded of seeing my baby girl in her casket.  I realized that there are so many different elements to grieving, and often the big, heavy, ugly parts of it (like trauma) drown out everything else.  This is a part of grieving that I hadn't done yet.  I grieved for those moments in the viewing when I sat there with my girl, watching people watch her (some for the first time).  This isn't something that anyone should have to go through.  And even though it was extremely spiritual and powerful, it was really really hard.  And I just wanted so badly to pick her up and for her to miraculously have life.  I wanted people to understand that she was SO much prettier in real life.  I wanted people to see her blue eyes and hear her cooing voice.   I had seen her dead quite a few times by this point, so compared to all of the other horrific things I was going through, this didn't seem that bad.  But being in there with Grandpa's body, I was able to deal with Holland's viewing in an isolated way and appreciate it.

I love thinking about Grandpa Barney being with Holland and getting to know her better.

Holly-Day

This was our first official Holly Day, and it went really well.  A big part of that was we had Nick's sisters, Jacci and Brittany, in town.  And they pretty much took care of Briz.  They got up with her, took her to her ballet and soccer classes in the morning, and just helped out a ton.  Nick and I were able to sleep in.  We had a pretty easy going day.  After we had a late start, we met Briz and the girls at Holland's grave.  We were able to talk to her a bit and think about her now year-long absence.  

I love going to the grave because I generally feel uplifted.  I love that Briz has a chance to talk to Holly, share things with her (last visit she wanted to tell Holland all about her new boots).  We talk to Briz about death and get to have conversations about Holland and our Heavenly Father's plan of happiness.  And we get to cry together as a family.  I love that we have a designated spot to do this.  But that's all it has become for me.  I don't think of Holland as being there.  I think of her as being close to me and my family most of the time.  It truly is a memorial place where her little body is.

We took our donations from the Holly Hoop and we purchased a gift basket for the Piscitelli family, in honor of Vienne.  It was a fun day of shopping for Nick and I, talking about memories of Holland and thinking of another family and what would truly help them heal at this time and in the future.  With every purchase we made, we included a note to explain why we purchased that.  Many of the things that we purchased were things that Nick and I have used that have been helpful to us.

We saw this rainbow on the way to Holland's grave.  It was kinda cool because there was a rainbow during the Holly Hoop.  Coincidence?  I think not :)  Just a sweet message.

The gift basket and frame.

Items in the basket:

- Flowers and a vase: when you are getting flowers fairly frequently, you can never have enough vases.  I always appreciate flowers if they seem cliche.  If nothing else, I like to be able to put them on Holland's grave to make it look pretty.  And it's something that brightens up my house when it might seem otherwise kind of dreary.

- Framed picture of the race start with a signed matte.  I wanted the family to know how they are supported, even from people that they don't know.

- Gift card to buy christmas presents for Vienne.  We explained our tradition of opening Holland's stocking first.  We bought Vienne a little dinosaur ornament also.

- Grief journals.  I have a journal that I record experiences with grief and just about Holland in general.  It started out as a journal for Holland when I was pregnant, but then after she died, I wanted to still use it.

- Gift cards for massages.  I have gotten fairly regular massages since Holland died, and it's been helpful for me.  I also saw a chiropractor for a while.

- Books about grieving. I just started reading my book club book.  I made a joke that recently I am ready to stop reading self help books.  For about a year, that was pretty much all I read.  And I am still reading them, just not exclusively.  It's been something that has helped me a lot.  I am able to learn a lot about what I am going through and what is helpful.

- Donation for grief counseling.  This has also been a lifesaver.  We have been to support groups (Compassionate Friends and Brief Encounters), to individual counseling, and marriage counseling.  We are still very heavily involved in the counseling.  Grief is hard in and of itself, but it tends to affect every relationship and every thing in a person's life.  I don't know how anybody gets through the mess that it is without guidance and help from professionals.

We dropped it by quickly at the Piscitelli's that night.  I remember I wasn't interested in having to socialize a lot with strangers or people I didn't know very well.  I always felt awkward and like I had to comfort or entertain them.  I am so glad I met this family and was introduced to Vienne.  In a completely selfish way, they made my Holly Day enjoyable.  Being able to think about them and in what small ways we could try to help them heal was what made my day.  That and being with my family.

One Year

I am not sure how to write about the year mark of my daughter's death.  I feel so many conflicting feelings that shift hourly.  One minute I am still angry that she is gone.  I feel sad and stuck.  Another minute I feel excited and proud of myself that I survived the first year.  I feel relieved that it is passing me by.  I feel hopeful that this next year will be easier.  I feel guilty for feeling hope and guilty for leaving her behind.  I feel depressed that at times it seems as if I'm as sad as I was a year ago, maybe even more sad because a year ago, I was in such a fog of trauma.  It feels impossible to sum up all of the feelings I have had for the last few weeks.  But one thing that I have found is that often the anticipation of a big marker is the worst.  And it is also a lot easier for me to handle these markers when I can anticipate them.  

The beginning of October was difficult for me because I was not expecting it.  I didn't realize that the beginning of "THE month" or that the change in weather and the change in colors would result in such a big reaction from me.  But it did.  I naturally felt like I did a year ago.  And all of a sudden I felt like my life was frozen.  I felt discouraged that I would always be in this same place of paralyzing sadness.  But as the month has gone on, I actually feel better and more hopeful that I will someday have full capacity as a person back.  

Grief is so hard and it has changed me forever.  Sometimes that is hard to accept because I feel like I have been a pretty driven, optimistic person.  I'm not sure if that same person will return.  I still don't really feel like "me."  And it's scary to think because I don't always like myself the way I am right now.  I am overly anxious about things, I laugh less, I get overwhelmed very easily, I am sad often, and make other people feel uncomfortable because of my sadness.  I am hard on myself and feel guilty for stupid things all of the time.  I know that I will always feel a bit of emptiness and sadness for not having my daughter with me in this life time.  But I don't always want to feel the way I do most of the time now.  I want to feel normal and I want the normal life I had always anticipated having.  I guess I'm not sure what normal even means anymore though.  

Overall, at this time of year, I miss her.  I miss my life with her.  No matter how much I know that she is in heaven, that she is with loved ones, and that I will see her again and be with her again, I am still missing my sweet girl and wishing I felt as good as I did when she was alive.

Wonderful Day

As noted in my previous post, I was a little nervous about Holland's first birthday.  It was hard to know what to expect.  But it ended up being a wonderful day.  We were surrounded by people we love and felt lots of love from people all over the world.  I was able to reflect upon the huge blessing my little girl has been and is to me.  Our family has experienced some painful moments; things that I never ever thought I would have to go through.  But there has also been so much gained through all of that.

We were at Eagle Crest with the Ainge's for my cousin Kim and Joe's wedding.  We spent the morning horseback riding.  Our cousin Kennedy was nice enough to let us use her horse, Spirit.  And anyone who knows me knows how much I love horses, so I was in heaven.  And what was even more enjoyable, was watching Briz ride a horse and love it too.

Then we went back to the resort, went swimming.  We loved watching Briz get braver by the moment and little Dane go crazy in the water.

At 3:33 we started our birthday party.  We had a bunch of balloons, and all of our family members there wrote personal messages to Holland.  We then sent the balloons up.  And I honestly didn't expect it to be as cool as it was.  I'm not sure if it was cause we had a little group of people or what, but I loved it.  And I loved that Briz thought it was fun.

We then opened a present for Holland: just a little book.  And my sister and brother in law got her a card and some flowers.

And to top it off, we sang Happy Birthday and had some yummy Costco cake (thanks to my parents for getting that).  It was simple and sweet; just what I had envisioned.

But the best thing were all of the sweet messages we got: the pictures of people sending off their balloons.  I was shocked.  I just didn't expect people to remember a ton, or to be able to find time to send balloons off (it seemed like a bit of a fiasco for us!).  I am so glad that people thought of her on her birthday.  And it makes me feel so much peace because not only does it mean they are thinking about her, but that they are thinking about things that are greater than our stupid daily cares.  For just a moment, Holland makes us think about eternity.

Happy Birthday Baby

It is a few days before Holland's first birthday.  I  have so many thoughts in my head, so I thought I would just start writing them down.  Truthfully, I don't spend a ton of time obsessing over my baby girl.  I have pictures up of her all over my house.  We talk about her openly in our home and outside of our home when we feel that people are comfortable with it.  Briz gives her a kiss every night after saying prayers, and we visit her grave every few weeks.  Our angel Holland has become a part of our lives, as a spirit.  She is ingrained into the fabric of our every day lives and for the most part I am fairly used to this.  But every so often, it hits me how much I miss her and wish she were still here.  These are moments filled with crushing emotion.  I have so many things that come to mind: heartache, sadness, curiosity, and for the sure the biggest one guilt.  But as her birthday approaches and I'm reminded in a very strong way of how much I miss her, I am having a feeling of panic.  Losing a child is hard to explain, because the pain doesn't go away.  I don't miss her any less than I did the day after she died.  She is my daughter and she is a part of me, and the pain is just as real.  But as people who grieve say, we develop a "new normal."  I have learned to function with this ever persistent ache.  And I am used to it most of the time.  I found myself on the computer tonight (not able to sleep) searching the internet for her name.  I just want to hold on to anything that is her, and I thought that maybe I would find something new: something that would surprise me, and it would give me a little jolt.  It's like when I will randomly find a pacifier or a burp cloth in some hidden compartment that I didn't know had been there.  I grab it and smell and kiss it and I never want to let it go.  I still don't want to let my sweet girl go.  Each "first" I experience is scary.  Every time I reach a marker, it's difficult.  But this one feels bigger.  And as with all of the little markers, there are many anticipatory feelings (and not all bad). I hope that with  this first birthday and each first that I feel closer to her, not farther away.  It's a different kind of close than I thought I would experience with my daughter.  A different close than I experience with Briz (The thoughts and feelings I had before Brizzy's first birthday were obviously so completely different). But she is close by.  I hope I can continue to get to know her; no longer my beautiful baby, but my guardian angel.

Helping a Grieving Grandparent

It has been interesting to me to see how grief affects so many people in different ways.  I normally don't like to be too wordy or to preach at all.  But I came across this excerpt from the book, "Helping a Grandparent Who is Grieving," and I thought it was good to remember the different people that are affected by the death of a baby. I think these tips are helpful for anyone who has experienced grief.  I have learned how little we talk about death in our culture and it makes grieving that much harder. Holland has such wonderful grandparents who have experienced heartache along with Nick and Briz and I.  And we love and appreciate them more than we can say.

Realize that a grandparent's grief is unique.

When a grandchild dies, the grandparent often mourns the death on many levels.  The grandparents probably loved the child dearly and may have been very close to him or her.  The death has created a hold in the grandparent's life that cannot be filled by anyone else.  Grandparents who were not close to the child who died perhaps because they loved far away, may instead mourn the loss of a relationship they never had.

Grieving grandparents are also faced with witnessing their child - the parent of the child who died - mourn the death. A parent's love for a child is perhaps the strongest of all human bonds.  For the parents of the child who died, the pain of grief may seem intolerable.  For the grandparents, watching their own child suffer so and feeling powerless to take away the hurt can feel almost as intolerable.

 With Nona just after delivery.

With a proud Papa.

Acknowledge the grandparents search for meaning.

When someone loved dies, we all ponder the meaning of life and death.  When a child or young adult dies, this search for meaning can be especially painful.  Young people aren't supposed to die.  The death violates the natural order of life and seems terribly unfair.

For grandparents, who may have lived long, rich lives already, the struggle to understand the death may bring about feelings of guilt.  "Why didn't God take me, instead?" the grandparent may ask himself.  "Why couldn't it have been me?"

Such feelings are both normal and necessary.  You can help by encouraging the grandparent to talk about them.

 Snuggling up with Nona on a warm summer night.

  Holland loved cuddling with her Papa.

Respect faith and spirituality.

Many people develop strong commitments to faith and spirituality as they get older.  If you allow them, grieving grandparents will "teach you" about the role of faith and spirituality in their lives.  Encourage them to express their faith if doing so helps them heal in grief.

Sometimes, however, faith can naturally complicating healing.  The grandparent may feeling angry at God for "taking" the grandchild.  He then may feel guilty about his anger, because, he may reason, God is not to be questioned.  Or the grandparent may struggle with feelings of doubt about God's plan for the afterlife.

Talking with a pastor may help the grandparents, as long as the pastor allows the grandparents to honestly express her feelings of anger, guilt, and sadness.  No one should tell a grandparent that she shouldn't grieve because the child has gone to heaven; mourning and having faith are not mutually exclusive.  Listen with your heart.

You can begin to help by listening.  Your physical presence and desire to listen without judging are critical helping tools.  Don't worry so much about what you will say.  Just concentrate on the words that are being shared with you.

Sometimes grandparents, especially grandfathers, don't want to talk about the death.  They may have been raised to believe that talking about feelings is frivolous or selfish or unmanly.  It's OK; they don't have to talk.  Simply spending time with them demonstrates your love and concern.

 Grandma Julie giving Holland a bath.

Holland is not happy with Grandma for taking her out of the bath

Be compassionate.

Give the grandparent permission to express her feelings without fear of criticism.  Learn from the grandparents; don't instruct or set expectations about how she should respond.  Never say, "I know just how you feel."  You don't.  Think about your helper role as someone who "walks with" not "behind" or "in front of" the grieving grandparent.

Allow the grandparent to experience all the hurt, sorrow, and pain that he is feeling at the time.  Enter into his feelings, but never try to take them away.  And recognize that tears are a natural and appropriate expression of the pain associated with the death.

Nona was brave to allow a naked Briz to sit on her while holding Holly.

After the OSU/BYU game with Holland.  My little girl got to go to a BYU football game.  I'm proud of that :)

Avoid cliches.

Words, particularly, cliches can be extremely painful for a grieving grandparent.  Cliches are trite comments often intended to provide simple solutions to difficult realities.  Grandparents are often told, "God needed another angel in heaven" or "Don't worry, John and Susie can have another child" or "You have to be strong for your child."  Comments like these are not constructive.  Instead, they hurt because they diminish the very real and very painful loss of a unique child.

When a grandchild dies, grandparents grieve twice.  They mourn the loss of the child and they feel the pain of their own child's suffering.  Sometimes we forget about the grandparents when a child dies.  You can help by not forgetting, by offering the grandparents your love, support and presence in the weeks and months to come.

 The night before Holland died, we went to a pumpkin patch in Utah.  Grandpa is pulling all of the bigger grandkids in the wagon.  He's such a good sport.  He's always behind the scenes helping out.

Also the night before Holland died.  Grandma Julie loves having all of her family and grandkids together.  And we love being with her.  I wish I had more pictures with Holland with Grandpa and Grandma, but I'm glad they got to spend some alone time with her.  And I'm glad they were able to be there with us on the day she died.