Wow

This last week has been incredibly surprising and more than slightly overwhelming. I never expected for my simple thank you to the Fairy Godmother to have spread so vastly and quickly. But I’m thankful for it. I’m thankful that people know my daughter’s name and story. I’m thankful that a light is now shining on families like mine, who have experienced a perinatal loss. Because families like mine need help. I’m lucky. I got pregnant, and therefore experienced this nightmare, here in Maryland. The reason that is lucky, is because of the support system that has been cultivated here. My doctor’s office, Annapolis OBGYN, referred me to my specialist, Center of Maternal Fetal Medicine Annapolis, who in turn referred me to my counselor, SilverLeaf Services. They worked together to bring me to the resources I needed so that I could enjoy my last weeks with my daughter. Without this kind of team working together, in conjunction with the labor and delivery nurse Annie O’Sullivan, there is no way I would be in the same mental and emotional place without them. There needs to be MORE systems like this all over the country. I am terrified to get pregnant again, and I’m even more terrified that it will happen somewhere else. Somewhere I don’t have access to CMFM Annapolis, and my counselor, and Annapolis OBGYN. This could have happened to me while we lived in NC, or when we lived in GA. And I’m unable to imagine what the results of that would be. My counselor, Heather, and my labor and delivery nurse, Annie, did and are still doing so much to help me. I don’t have the words to explain or thank them. Everyone that has lost a child, or is facing the loss of a child like I was, needs a Heather and an Annie. I hope that my story going viral has helped the medical community open their eyes.

Thank you, everyone, for the kind words and for reaching out to me when my story touched you. It helps more than I can explain, to know that Analiese has impacted all of you. For those that think I’m weird and creepy by having my daughter’s ashes inside the teddy bear: all I can say is I hope you never learn how it feels to hold your child as they die. Many of the articles have twisted my words, so I would like to set the record straight. I do not talk to the teddy bear as though it is my daughter. I don’t force people to interact with it, nor do I trick them by not telling them what is inside. The Fairy Godmother was a wonderful compassionate woman who UPON HEARING that my daughter’s ashes were inside the teddy bear, treated the bear as though it was a child. And that is what meant so much to me. She acknowledged my grief. I understand that it is the internet, and people will always talk shit. But in case it was due to a misunderstanding, at least now you know the truth.

My daughter is dead, and that is something that I have to live with every single day. Carrying her ashes doesn’t make me crazy, it makes me a grieving mother. I’m not delusional. I’m not in denial. I’m just grieving. And grieving is hard.

For all the parents that have extended their condolences, and told me of their own loss, I am so sorry that you have experienced the same pain I have. All we can do is try to move forward.

IMG_0070

Advertisements

An Open Letter to My Daughter

March 11, 2016

Dear Analiese,

I can’t believe it has been an entire month since I last felt you kick inside me. Today should be a day of celebrating you. Instead I feel like my grief will crush me. It has been a month since the end of those 85 precious minutes. I’m thankful for the time I had with you, and did not take a single one of those minutes for granted. But I want more. I want to feed you and watch you grow. I want to teach you how to dance, and laugh while your daddy tickles you into submission. I want to watch you discover your love for reading, and your love for video games because we all know you would have loved both. I want to teach you what good music is, and see you discover the magic that lives within the Harry Potter series. I want to take you to Disney World and watch as you get swept away. I want to see you graduate high school and college. To watch you meet a man and fall desperately in love, like I am in love with your daddy. I want to help you plan a spectacular wedding that is exactly you. I want so much more than those 85 minutes.

My arms ache with how empty they are. I held you 27 days ago, but it feels like a lifetime has passed. My soul has aged hundreds of years without you. I’m weary and I miss you more than I could ever explain.

I hope you are happy where you are. I hope your grandmother and great grandmothers are spoiling you rotten, while your great aunt is playing tricks on you like she did on me. I hope you are getting into all kinds of mischief with your cousin, and making the angels crazy trying to keep up with you. I hope you’re happy.

Because I’m not. And neither is your daddy. It hurts to breathe without you, but we keep doing it. We don’t have a choice. Please know, we did absolutely everything we could, angel. And we love you more than we love our own lives.

You’re beautiful.

Happy 1 month, baby.

Love, Mommy.

IMG_0070IMG_0086