Dear Emily,
One year ago today you became Mommy and Daddy's little angel in
heaven. We love you so much and miss you every day of our lives.
Losing you was the hardest thing either of us has ever had to do.
Your memory permeates our lives every day. We will always treasure our one day with
you. We cannot wait to one day hold you
again. We thank God for you and all that
you have given us. You made Mommy and
Daddy’s marriage even stronger. You
helped Mommy’s faith grow in ways that it never had before. Thank you. We love you and miss you our dear sweet
Emily.
Love,
Mommy and Daddy
Warning...this will probably make you cry. I
cried most of the time I wrote this. I wrote this in the weeks leading up
to Caroline's birth. I am brutally honest about my feelings from
this year, not all of them are pretty. I tackle some of my struggles with
faith in light of our experiences. I'm not trying to get into a
theological debate or to upset anyone. I'm just being honest. I
can't help the feelings that I have had. They are not all nice and pretty
and holy. Some are quite mean and unholy in fact. I hope that they
give a better insight into our journey this year. I hope that my honesty
will let others know that they are not alone in their own struggles with
pregnancy, grief, jealousy, and faith.
Also, I
realize this is ridiculously long. Once
I started writing I couldn’t stop. Like
I’ve said before, writing this blog has been part of my grieving process. For whatever reason I felt the need to share
these stories.
Memories of Emily
It is hard for both Phil and I because we actually have very
little memory of Emily. We had such a small amount of time with her and
we were so exhausted and emotional that our memories are blurry. What I
remember more are feelings. I remember how she felt in my arms. I
remember holding her all night long and kissing her on her forehead every few
minutes and telling her I loved her as I attempted to sleep. All I could
think about was these were the only moments I would ever have holding her and
there was no way I was going to waste those moments on sleep. I know when
you read that some of you may think it is sweet. Others may think it is
weird. I totally understand that it sounds weird to hug and kiss and hold
all night someone who has died. I don't care. Until you have lost a
child you will never truly understand the pain and love.
All in all we only had about sixteen hours with Emily. Can
you imagine only having sixteen hours with your child, ever. Sixteen
hours to hold them, kiss them, and tell them how special and loved they are.
Sixteen hours to awe in their beauty, their tininess, their similarities
to you and your spouse. Sixteen hours that have black gloom over them
because you know that your time is limited. You know that you will soon
have to say good-bye and never get to see them or hold them again.
Sixteen hours.
What she looked like is fuzzy in my brain. All we have are
the AMAZING photos that our dear friend Julie took of her. They are
something Phil and I treasure. Because they are so special to us we chose
to not share the photos online. Instead we have shared them in person
where we get to share in her memory with others. Heck it's the only time
we get to be those proud parents who get to talk endlessly about their awesome
kid. We have decided to finally share some of these photos. I would
be more than happy to share the rest with anyone who would like to see our
sweet baby girl, but only in person. That way we can share together in
her story :) Julie truly did an amazing job capturing this moment in our
life. Thank you Julie from the bottom of our hearts.
 |
| Julie took this right after I delivered Emily. We hadn't even held her yet. I hadn't even seen her yet. I was actually freaking out about seeing her. This is just the raw emotion of an amazing husband comforting his wife and two parents desperately turning to one another for love and support. I love you Phil. |
 |
| This is one of our first moments holding Emily. |
 |
| I'm a mommy. |
 |
| Phil's a daddy. |
 |
Emily Noakes
April 11, 2011
2 pounds 11 ounces
16 inches long
Look at her perfect nose and perfect lips. You can even see her hair peaking out from under her hat! |
Look at those adorable fingers and toes!
 |
| Love. |
The First Week
One of the hardest moments and now the hardest memory that I have of Emily
is when we said good-bye. We had planned it out with one of the nurses.
All of our family left and we had our final private good-bye with Emily.
Phil and I started our good-bye by praying for strength to get through
it. We held her, kissed her and told her how much we loved her.
Neither of us wanted to say good-bye but instinctively we both knew it
was time. When we were done we pressed the nurse button and the nurse
came in and we handed Emily over to her. We watched as she walked out the
door with our daughter, our daughter that we would never see or hold or kiss
again. I can't think about that moment without crying. I can still
see the nurse walking out the door. As she walked out I collapsed onto
the bed crying. This was the first time I really cried about loosing her.
I had held it all in until then. I had actually been looking
forward to having a good cry about it. And then the on-call doctor came
in saying, "Awww I know I know." I felt as if she was talking
to me like I was a child. It felt fake and I wanted her to go away.
We had what felt like seconds alone and then she interrupted it. I
know she meant well but I was PISSED she came in. Phil is convinced that
she didn't want to scare the other moms with my sobs. I was so pissed off
at her that I immediately stopped crying. She had interrupted our private
mourning and I was never going to get that moment with Phil back. She
walked over and hugged me and patted my back. I looked over her shoulder at
Phil. To her I said, "Thank you." very coldly, almost
mechanically. To him I mouthed, "What the f***?" Then she
left. I looked at Phil and said, "Well that's not the type of
strength I wanted but right now I'm so pissed off that I know I can get up and
go." So I picked up Emily's stuffed animal, Phil picked up my
pillow, and we walked out of the hospital hand in hand clinging to our animal
and pillow because we had no baby to hold. In the end my prayer had been
answered. We had the strength to leave. It was not how I expected
or wanted but hey it worked. Who knows if anything else would have? When
I prayed for strength I guess I envisioned having a feeling of calm, like the aura of God surrounding you. You know very heavenly feeling. I did
not envision God giving us strength through anger. But he knows us all
best right?
The day that I delivered Emily was a beautiful spring day.
The sunshine, the mild weather, the slight breeze, the daisies blooming
all filled me with happiness and peace. I think of that day whenever the
weather reminds me of it and I smile. It makes me happy to know that the
one day I had with Emily was a beautiful, perfect spring day. Then the
following day (day 2) was another beautiful day and guess what; I was smiling.
Actually I was almost giddy with happiness. That was the day that I
wrote the blog about our one day with Emily. Writing down my memories,
her story, made me excited and happy. I was clinging so hard to them and
didn't want to forget a single thing. Our family must have thought I was
going nuts. I was so darn happy that day. Day three was hard.
It rained and my mood went down hill. It was also the day that we had
to go to the funeral home and pick out an urn. Neither Phil nor I could
bear the thought of burying her. We couldn't bear the thought of picking
out an urn either. I can remember being incredibly mad and crying in
frustration that we were even in this situation. Nothing can prepare you
for it. I was in shock.
All the urns were horrible. They were all so big or too
cutsie. The guy tried showing us these stupid urns that look like a baby
block. One it looked cheap, two why the hell would I want a pink baby
block? We finally found the perfect thing, one that looked like it had flowers
on it. It was elegant yet juvenile. Perfect. I remember
sitting out the table filling out all the paperwork and breaking down.
The thing that got me was the part that I had to sign. Right next
to the signature it said "Relationship to deceased" and I got to/had
to write mother. I wrote the word and collapsed over crying.
I can remember thinking that this is the only time that I will ever get
to fill out a form and say that I'm Emily's mom...and it was on a cremation
permission slip. I remember thinking about all the school forms that parents
have to fill out and that we would never get that chance. I wish I would
have had the chance to complain about them...it's like a right of parenthood or
something :)
Part of the reason we went with the funeral home that we went with
was because they offered the cremation service for free to parents of stillborn
children. We thought that the fact that they offered the service for free
spoke volumes as to the type of people that ran the funeral home. It was
the type of place we felt okay turning our daughter over to. The thing
was we had no intention of not paying. Phil had to argue with the man.
He kept saying we really didn't have to do this. Phil insisted.
I think what made the man back down was when Phil told him this was the
one thing he was ever going to get the chance to do for his daughter. He
said that he would never get the chance to spoil her like he wanted to.
All he got was this one thing. He wanted to do this one thing.
It was a matter of fatherly pride. My husband is a good man.
A wonderful man. He is a caring, amazing father to the core.
Personal Struggles
With the loss of an adult you mourn the person. You mourn the
loss of their presence. It is horrible and sad. Yet you take
comfort from the fact that they lived. That they experienced life and
that while those memories hurt, they also give you strength. I know that
whenever I see pink nail polish, dental floss, or red potatoes I always think
of my Grandmother and it brings a smile to my face. With the loss of a
child you mourn the person and the loss of their presence. But you also
mourn for all that could have been, that would have been. Everything in
the world around you makes you think of experiences that they will never have
the chance to have. Moments and memories that you will never share.
In the days, weeks, and months after we lost Emily I found myself being
inundated with thoughts of what would have been. Those realizations were
normally what spurred me to cry more than anything else. I will never get
to fill out the mountain of school forms. I will never get to watch her
play sports or dance in a recital. I will never get to see Phil hold her
again. I will never get to see them dance at her wedding. This one
was particularly hard because we were invited to a bunch of weddings
last year. I realized at the first one that I now hated going to
weddings. I could make it through the ceremony but I could barely hold it
together during the reception. I would sit at the reception waiting in
anticipation for the father daughter dance and then the second that I realized
it was going to happen I made a beeline out of there until it was done. I
couldn't bear to watch it, I just didn't have the strength. At one
wedding in particular a guest and her husband had a newborn baby. They
were so excited and so in love with her. The three of them actually danced
together, the parents just staring at her with undying love in their eyes.
It was beautiful. I was so jealous. They had what I wanted.
We left shortly after that, I just couldn't take it anymore.
I have struggled with jealousy this year. I have felt
jealousy towards every pregnant person I see and know and every person with a
child. That's a lot of people. But most of all I have felt it
towards friends. Since Phil and I started trying, I feel as if almost
everyone around me has had kids. Some started trying way after we had and
already have their babies. Some were pregnant at the same time as me.
Some are already on baby number two! The women in my life who were
pregnant when I was with Emily and with Caroline have been who I have been most
jealous of. After loosing Emily they still had their babies. It
took me months to have the strength to talk to some of my friends. Others
for whatever reason I was completely fine being around. Then, when
pregnant with Caroline, I had a new batch of pregnant friends. I was so
jealous of their "carefree" pregnancies as I saw it. Oh a
little heartburn here, a few weeks of bed rest there, no big deal. I was
in a constant state of fear that my baby would stop moving. That my
baby would die. While I know this is every parent's fear NO ONE can say
they understand this fear unless they have been in our shoes. I would be
walking around all fine and dandy and then panic would set in…when was the last
time she moved? I can’t remember the
last time she moved! So I would lay down
on a bed, couch, floor, whatever, begging Caroline to move, begging God for just
the tiniest of movements. Pleading with
him to not take another child. Trying to
calm myself and remember to have faith.
All the while planning. Planning
on when to call the doctor, to call Phil. Reliving going to the hospital. Imagining having to go through the death of
another child. Would they have matching
urns? Would I be as sad? Would I just be
numb? Could I live through this again? And then she would give me a nudge and I
would breath, thank her, tell her how much I love her, and thank God. The panic would dissipate but it was still
there, just waiting to test me again.
Then on top of that Caroline has a heart defect. As if this
pregnancy wasn't already hard enough. Now I also had/have jealousy of
those around me who had perfect, healthy babies. My fears were not going
to be alleviated by birth, they were going to be transformed into
another beast. Great. I have worked hard to push aside the jealous
feelings and try to be supportive and have empathy for friends as they go
through their pregnancy and parenting journeys. It has been hard at
times. I have even had to cut myself off from people that for whatever
reason, I just can't handle being around their happiness. It makes me an
angry, jealous person and I don't like that feeling. It's not the type of
person I want to be. I have lots of guilt for feeling this way or for
doing this to people. I just don't know how else to keep going.
It's my emotional survival technique.
Our Faith is Tested
Amazingly, through all we’ve been through our faith is somehow stronger.
I am glad that in our sorrow we were able to turn to God for strength
rather than turn away from him in hate. It hasn’t been easy though.
After we lost Emily I could truly feel God's presence for perhaps
the first time in my life. It is one thing to have always had faith and
believed in God. It is another to feel God's embrace. The best way
I can describe the peace that I felt after we lost Emily was that I felt as if
my soul was getting hugged. That may sound super weird but it is amazing.
Strength was actually what I had prayed for at the hospital.
Ironically, I'm not a prayerful person. I have no problem with
people that do, it's just not something that comes naturally to me.
When we were in the hospital with Emily I kept turning to prayer and
turning to God. All I kept praying for was strength. Strength to
get through labor. Strength to hold her. Strength to say good-bye.
Part of me felt like if God was going to take my daughter from me then
the least he could do was give me strength...he owed me that much. Now
looking back I don't think it was that I felt that he owed me, it was that I
needed to see him somewhere in the tragedy. I needed reassurance from
him. I needed to know it was okay. I needed a reason to have faith
in him and in his plan. The peace I felt at the hospital and afterwards
gave me the strength to keep going. My prayer for strength was answered.
My biggest test of faith was days after we had lost Emily. It was Palm Sunday and we decided we really
wanted to go to church. It was the
Easter season, a joyous season in Christianity. I wanted/needed to be
filled with joy. Instead of doing a reading from the bible that Sunday
the priest and two parishioners acted out the Passion of the Christ.
Normally this is a nice change of pace at church. But I couldn't
handle it. All the priest kept talking about was how great Jesus was.
How Jesus knew what it was like to be human. How he experienced
life and then died for us. My thoughts at the time didn't agree.
All I could think was NO, he had not had the full human experience.
Did he have children? Did he have a child die? Did he have to
go through labor knowing that your child died inside of you and that you now
had to deliver that baby dead? NO! Unless he experienced that then he
did not know the type of suffering I was going through. Oh man I got mad.
I was sitting there fuming and all the priest kept doing was going on and
on about how great Jesus was. I about walked out of church. As I
sat their stewing a thought came to me. Wait. God sent his child,
his SON. Oops...I forgot that. The priest had focused so much on
Jesus and his experience that I didn't think about God. God had to watch
his son die. God had to watch his son suffer. God and I had
something in common, we both lost a child. Then I was okay again. I
was no longer mad. After Easter we took a break from church for about
eight months. I was happier in my relationship with God if I didn't go to
church. We actually didn't start going back to church until right around
Thanksgiving. Now it is something I look forward to each Sunday.
It's funny because many of my blog posts discuss my faith which is not
something I usually talk about. To me there are different religions and
denominations because people believe different
things, interpret things differently. The important thing to me
is to focus on the similarities instead of the differences. I have never been
one to wear my religion on my sleeve. It is something that I think is
very personal. I'm quite confused with what I believe in actually.
Both Phil and I are Christian but I grew up Catholic and Phil grew up
Protestant. We agreed before we got married that we would try out all different
denominations until we found one that we both felt called to. For a time
it was Presbyterian, then Catholic, and recently a Baptist church. We
have focused on feeling welcomed by the community and feeling enriched by the
service. Now we both like/dislike aspects of both the Catholic Mass and
of Protestant services. Our main focus it trying to find a church
community that we are excited to raise our children in. Faith and
religion are a never ending relationship that you choose to take on.
Sometimes you struggle with it. Other times it gives you strength.
To me questioning it and struggling with it are important aspects of
growing in it. You can not grow in your faith if you follow blindly.
It is a relationship and like all relationships it has ups and downs.
It is something you have to work at.
Many people have said to me that I have handled loosing Emily and
my pregnancy with Caroline better than most would. I really don't know
how to respond to that. It kinda makes me feel uncomfortable. In
all honesty the only thing that I can attribute my strength to is the strength
of my marriage and love for Phil and to my faith. One might think,
"how can she have such strong faith after all of this?" In addition
to what I have already discussed in this blog, here is what gave me strength this past year...
I am not afraid of death. As morbid as this may seem, part
of me is now excited for death one day. For when I die I will get to see
my baby girl again and hold her and never let go. I can think of nothing
better than that. I also had the following vision while driving to work
one day this past summer. I envisioned myself running through the gates
of Heaven through white puffy clouds looking for Emily. Instinctively I
knew God was there and felt kinda guilty that I didn't look for him first. Instinctively
I knew he understood my pain and excitement and was okay with Emily being my
first priority. I stopped running, looked around and saw my roommate from
college Liz who died two and a half years ago after a difficult battle with
cancer. There she sat in a rocking chair with Emily in her lap, talking
to her, and taking care of her for me. Emily wasn't a baby, she was 4 or
5 years old and had her back to me. Liz looked up and saw me. She
smiled then leaned down and whispered in Emily's ear. Emily turned and
looked at me and smiled. Then she jumped off of Liz's lap and came
running into my arms and as I scooped her up into my embrace she said,
"Mommy, I love you!." After a time Liz slowly walked up and
just gave me this wonderful loving look like it's okay Megan, she's okay,
everything is okay. That vision more than anything has given me peace
this year. I KNOW heaven is for real. What more can I ask for?
Honoring Emily
Today we are going to spend Emily's Day by going back to the
hospital. We are going to deliver more blankets. I'm actually
really looking forward to this. It will be a highly symbolic way to
handle the day.
I don't think I really explained in my previous posts why I am
making the blankets because I've gotten a lot of questions about them.
Here is why I'm making them:
On the morning before we went to the hospital I had started
making a blanket for Emily. When we left for the hospital it was in
pieces on the floor in our guestroom. When I delivered Emily we didn't
have much baby stuff yet. My mom and Phil's mom actually went out and
bought something for her to wear while I was in labor. Talk about Grandma
strength :) I was so sad that I didn't have the blanket that I was going
to make to wrap her in. I didn't want generic hospital clothing or
blankets. I wanted something special. I mean this was the only outfit and
only blanket she would ever have. My friend Amy had given us a blanket
when we found out I was pregnant. That blanket became the blanket that we
wrapped Emily in. In the days and weeks after we lost her Phil and I were
like little kids. We carted around our house Emily's dress, blanket, and
a lamb that our neighbor Karen had given us at my neighborhood baby shower.
That lamb was extra special because it is what I carried out of the
hospital since I couldn't carry Emily. After the first couple of weeks
the blankets and lamb started staying in our room. We were 27/28 year
olds who snuggled with a stuffed animal and blankets. After a few more
weeks they were folded and put with the memory box that the hospital gave us
along with all the lovely cards that we received. Today they sit on a
shelf in our closet. I can't bring myself to put them in the attic.
They will stay put in our closet where I can see them. As you can
see these few mementos gave us comfort in the days, weeks, and months
after we lost Emily. We will always treasure them. I decided within
days of loosing her that I still wanted to make her blanket but on a smaller
scale. As I furiously made her blanket one morning I decided that I
didn't want any other mother of a stillborn child to feel as if she didn't have
something special to wrap her baby in. I talked about it with Phil and he
fully supported my idea to make blankets to donate to St. Mary's. I make
each blanket, wrap it up in ribbon and enclose a card with a handwritten note
from me. I have asked the hospital to only give them to mother's who
deliver their child stillborn. A bit of my heart goes into each blanket
that I make. I hope that they are giving other mothers of stillborn
babies something to treasure and gain comfort from. I also hope that the
notes that I write to go with the blankets give the moms encouragement and
strength during a scary and heartbreaking time. I want them to know they
are not alone.
Blessings
Our marriage is stronger than ever. We feel so
blessed that Emily helped to make it ten times stronger than it was
before. I never knew that was possible. It is amazing. I love
him so much and thank God everyday for having him as my husband. His
strength throughout my pregnancy with Caroline was amazing. Whenever I
became worried because she hadn't moved recently or because of some new pain he
kept calm and reassured me. He would say, 'Why don't you drink some water
she loves it when you drink water.' Or, 'Have you eaten anything?
Try eating something.' Or, 'Why don't you lay down for a bit and if
you still want to call the doctor then let's call them.' He was so
calm, so reassuring. He is my rock and I love him with all my heart.
Caroline is a blessing. She would not be here if we had not lost Emily. It feels weird saying that, like we swapped one child for another but it's the truth. We can't help that we lost Emily. All we can do is rejoice that in her passing we were able to gain another life, the life of her sister. Now we are blessed enough to have two daughters. One waiting for us in heaven and one with us here on earth. So much to live for. So much to give us peace with the future.
...
Well after reading that LONG tear jerker...I want to take a moment
to thank everyone who has helped Philip and me get through the past year.
I realized after writing my first post about Emily that writing about my
feelings was a great form of therapy for me. I've used it as a way to
think through and express some of my emotions this year. I know I have
opened up our personal life to the whole world which is kinda weird and super
scary. But at the same time it has given me strength. If you know
me then you know I'm a people person. I find happiness and strength
through relationships big and small. You have no idea how much every
email, facebook message, "like" of a photo or status, text message,
phone call, card, etc. meant to us. I'm not able to respond to them all but please know that do not go unnoticed. They have helped to keep our spirits
up. They have helped us to mourn Emily. They have helped us to be
excited about Caroline. You truly have no idea how much your tiny bits of
support worked together to keep us going. THANK YOU.
From here on out I will continue to update you on our growing
"nest". I will give updates as I have time on Caroline's growth
and development and her heart journey. I see this blog as a way to communicate all the fun
memories that we are making with Caroline. We are so excited to have finally been able to bring a child home. We love her so much. I will still be open about how
we are doing but I am ready for some carefree posts. I'm ready to
celebrate our family. I'm ready to move forward.
Love,
Megan
