To the Child in My Heart
C. Parrot

O precious, tiny, sweet little one
You will always be to me
So perfect, pure and innocent
Just as you were meant to be

We dreamed of you and of your life
And all that it would be
We waited and longed for you to come
And join our family

We never had the chance to play
To laugh, to rock, to wiggle
We long to hold you, touch you now
And listen to you giggle

I’ll always be your mother
He’ll always be your dad
You will always be our child
The child that we had

But now you’re gone…but yet you’re here
We sense you everywhere
You are our sorrow and our joy
There’s love in every tear

Just know our love goes deep and strong
We’ll forget you never
The child we had but never had
And yet will have forever.

Today we found out the great news that Lance & Ryan sent their parents another little miracle. Cole Johnson B. was born today! His parents, sister and angelic brother's have been blessed with his arrival. What a lucky boy to be born to wonderful people.

Wishing Cole a 100 years of health, happiness and love. Welcome to the world, little man.

Oliver and I returned from a lovely vacation in Croatia. My entire family finally got to meet our child and he was terrific!

During our holidays in Croatia, my mother wanted to bring Oliver to the church were she once brought me as a young child, The Church of Our Lady of Trsat.

My mother began by saying how special the church is (and it is…the history alone is enough to make it special) and when she brought me to Trsat for the first time – she had me blessed and she wants Oliver to be blessed too.

I never really concentrated on how blessed or not blessed I was throughout my life. Even when the most fabulous things happened to me…my first pregnancy, my first child…I don’t think god nor did being blessed entered my mind. I just thought – “boy, I must be really lucky”. And we were…even for a brief moment.

My entire life, I assumed if you were blessed it meant that your life was very fortunate. That you are healthy and only good things surrounded you at all times. By this definition – I’m not sure I am or not.

I have repeatedly blogged about how lucky we are having such great friends and family. And how extremely lucky we are to finally have birthed a healthy child who is pretty much perfect in every way. We never had to struggle financially and always had good food to eat. We are committed to this marriage and both share similar goals that preserve this little family of ours. Apart from having a dead child – I would say this could be considered blessed, no? But unfortunately the dead daughter part is so overwhelming that sometimes it’s a bit blurry to see all the good things in our lives. A lot of the time, I don’t feel so blessed. Sometimes I feel, if there is a god, maybe he just made a mistake the night Amelie died? Or maybe we just weren’t as blessed?

Blessed or not – I’ve learned that life takes no prisoners – we are all subject to good and bad things happening to us. Some people have lives that go smoother than others. And some people just aren’t as lucky. We are somewhere in between. Living a good life, raising a lovely son, healthy and for the most part happy and enriched with good friends and family - all without our daughter.

Today I’m reflecting on where I was last year on 7/23. I recall how quickly labor was for me – I thought then, you were eager to get out into the world. Your personality is a reflection of that determination, as you try to walk, talk, attempt daring stunts and seem unfazed with any obstacle.

Your birth brought joy back into our lives...we were able to embrace life again. Your existence fuels us with excitement and love. We love you! Today, we wish you a Happy 1st Birthday!

Love, Mama and Daddy.

We have waited a long time to get here – get to a place where we are happily celebrating our child’s first birthday. There are tons of emotions surrounding this glorious occasion. We are happy that Oliver made it to us. We have a perfect son to call our own and couldn’t be more delighted about the outcome of his being. But there are moments of sadness, as we know we’ll never get to do all this for Amelie.

As I looked at Oliver with our friends and family at our BBQ this weekend, it was so apparent that there was a missing piece…its the hole that forever will make-up our family dynamic. Our family mix of a 2 ½ year old girl and our 1 year old boy will never be. Instead, we have a perfect angel in heaven that sent us down our perfect son here on earth. The scenario isn’t ideal, but it’s our reality and we are grateful.

I read this recently from a fellow bereaved parent's blog. CLC wrote:

"I don't wish this on anyone, but I wish people could watch me in that room holding my dead baby girl, so maybe they would really get it. Maybe then, she would be recognized as real, and my loss would be considered as great as losing an older child. I want them to see how pretty she was, how warm her body was, how everything was so perfect, yet so insanely, grossly wrong at the same time. I want them to see my husband and I screaming and crying as the doctor told us that her heart was no longer beating."

Sometimes I feel like this too.

I just recently found out through reconnecting with an old H.S. acquaintance on FB that her son was born to an undiagnosed CHD. Actually the CHD was more severe than Amellie's - probably a good thing for him, because he started showing signs of distress straight after birth and he had open heart surgery at 1 week old. The surgery was a success and he was home by the time he was 2 weeks old. Currently, he's doing great, eating well and thriving. God bless miracles!

Sometimes I think people try to justify Amelie's death by thinking - "she would have died during surgery" or "she would have had a lifetime of health ailments".

Well, I never believed that.

What I know is that if she had her heart defect caught on time she would have had a 99% success rate at correcting it and would have grown up to be a strong girl, as was initially intended. The frustration of knowing this and living in the complete opposite, really...really sucks. I have no other words, apart from tears.

Definition: em•pa•thy (ěm'pə-thē) n.
1. Identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings, and motives.

So not many people understand it…EMPATHY. I don’t think less of a person that doesn’t quite have the empathetic capacity to understand what we went through. I honestly believe that you need to go through it in order to understand, but there are circumstances in which people have shared our grief – even for a brief moment and their feelings were genuine.

Our therapist being one of them.

I recall our first meeting with Dr. C – we were zombies, to put it mildly. We walked through life in this fuzz that I call shock. Dr. C asked if we can explain what happened to Amelie – so he knows our history, learns our thought process about the situation. After much talking – not much of what I can remember – apart from one thing P.aul said that will reside with me forever. P.aul said with much sorrow, “I feel like I am less of a man because I couldn’t protect my daughter from dying. What kind of man would let his child die?” I looked up and the therapist was in utter tears. I then realized – he felt sad that P.aul bared this heavy weight on himself. Dr. C felt sorry for P.aul – genuinely sorry.

The days after the loss of Amelie – there were tons of friends and family that flocked to our side. We are so appreciative of that. We are so grateful to have people like that in our lives that care so much and would drop everything to be there for us. But like any human being – people move on with their lives and some of our closest friends and family didn’t quite have the empathy to deal with our extremely sensitive state. We were so fragile those early days – analyzing, scrutinizing, over hypothesizing and persecuting anything and everything anyone said. We were protecting her – protecting her innocence. And we were angry – oh boy, were we.

But I don’t apologize for that. It is what it is…it was our pain. Our erratic feelings eventually subsided and we forgave all who have might have used poor judgment during our sensitive times. We knew that no family/friend who was there for us by our side, would ever want to hurt us deliberately. We realize that no empathy in the world can have you understand what we went through. And honestly, I would never wish that you understood what we went through. It’s horrible.

As I’ve written in prior posts before, I am grateful for everyone in our lives. You helped our broken hearts be functional again. You consoled us and maintained communication with us when we didn’t want to speak to anyone. To all our friends and family – we love you – more than words can express.

Every once and a while I will coast through blogsphere – topic of subject normally being a bereaved parent.

One recently I stumbled on was a 3rd trimester stillborn loss. The mother posted a picture of her gorgeous, perfect son – I mean it when I say he was perfect in every way, apart from being alive. We don’t have pictures of Amelie in her death state but unfortunately our mind is a very powerful instrument and can pull up any image you might have in that yottabyte storage system.

It’s horrific…the image. Yet she was peaceful and gorgeous.

There’s no point to this blog really. But I know for some who read this, who have held a dead child – you know what I mean. You know – living or dead – our kids were perfect.

I feel like someone pressed the fast-forward button on the remote. Where has the time gone?  I recall dreading living through Amelie’s 2nd birthday and angel day and yet the days came and went and life kept on moving forward…way too fast.

My husband and I visited her graveside on Easter day as we do most holidays. I know for me, I still feel wrong knowing my first child lay buried there – her body in the ground and her soul’s location, a mystery. I told P.aul as we walked away from her resting place that I feel a piece of me is buried with her. Like my heart chipped away and it lay underground for me to never have again.

But I’m a functioning person with a broken heart.

Our son’s existence, with his lovely aura fills a lot of what remains of my broken heart. The love and appreciation I have for my husband is there too. Our friends and family who have seen us through our worst of times, who made us laugh when we never thought we’d be able to – are also a part of it. And the sheer goodness of strangers and people who we have connected with due to tragedy has played a hand in filling our achy-breaky-hearts.

Easter is a time to rejoice. “Rejoicing” normally has religious connotations but I’m taking this to another level. I am rejoiceful for my life. Although our daughter’s life was lost, although my heart is permanently broke…my life still gave me another shot at happiness. And I took it and I'm running fast-forward with it.  Huh, go figure?

Happy Easter and best wishes to all.

Dear Amelie,

Two years ago today my heart was broken. I still don't know who to blame. Was I a bad parent? Did the doctor miss an obvious sign? Is god just cruel? A lot has happened in two years. But you must know that my heart aches for you EVERY DAY!

You blessed us with Oliver, I know that... He is so beautiful and I know he would have been in awe of you, the way I am still in awe of you. I just wish so badly you could be with us, sharing the laughter and the tears. I talk to him about you all the time. I tell him he has the most beautiful and loving sister, and that he's so lucky to have you looking over him. Please look after him... Guide him through life. Help him be good and loving.

In these two years the only thing I've realized is that I'll never understand why you were taken from us. I'll never get over the pain. And I feel awful for the people who are yet to experience what we went through.

Tonight I'll go to bed, and the last thought I will have is wishing you were still here. And tomorrow I'll wake up to the nightmare that nobody will grant me that one simple wish.

Good-night my princess,
Dad
xoxo

With one last push…you came into this world on January 29, 2007 at 4:04pm.

Your birth was spectacular and you were more beautiful than I imagined. Your eyes just starred at us for hours – like you’ve been here before. I knew you’d be wise, wiser than me. I knew you’d be graceful which would have taught me to be more delicate. I knew you’d be my best friend, a person I was waiting for all my life.

Your birth was my rebirth into a better person. I wish you were here for me to wrap my arms around you and tell you Happy Birthday. Instead I’ll let the angels do that for me. I hope they sing to you in the high heavens and celebrate what a lovely person you were and what a beautiful addition to heaven you are.

Happy Birthday, Amelie.

Love, Mamma, Dad & Oliver

Happy 6 months, Oliver!

You amaze us everyday and we love you for being you. Thanks for the smiles

Love, Mamma, Dad, Amelie and Brady

My husband sent me this link not too long ago that recorded the powerful words from parents who have lost a child (this was in lieu of the recent loss of John Travolta's son, Jett). The parents spoke of their their struggles with religion, the hardship of living life without their kids and the pain of moving forward. Click here to listen.

I have been thinking of posts to write but just cannot put emotions into words yet. The winter season is our 'hurricane season', the special holidays, Amelie's birthday and eventual, angel-day. Boy do I wish I didn't circle around days/dates. Goodness knows I miss Amelie everyday. But I do think of those days. I think of the days leading to her birthday and what a wonderful pregnancy I had with her. I remember being so curious of who I was carrying and getting anxious to meet him/her. Then there's her birth - the greatest moment of our lives followed by 15 days later, when our world collapsed and part of Paul and I died along with her.

Our experience is different from those parents on the recording, but our pain is all too similar. I want to celebrate Amelie's birth but its just not possible for us. On Jan. 29, 2009, Amelie would have turned 2. I just wish I shared experiences with people who's lives didn't end with tragedy. I wish I got to experience Amelie's 2nd birthday.

So I lay down to sleep last night and all I kept on thinking about was tomorrow will be another Thanksgiving without Amelie. We were never blessed with celebrating Thanksgiving nor any occasion or holiday with her and I guess that will always be one of those things that stays with us.

I’m torn of how I should feel because it’s the first holiday we celebrate with our beloved son and yet another holiday that is without our precious princess. I remember last year on this day I told Paul that I am thankful for Amelie…just thankful I am her mom and I got to hold our perfect little girl. Well this year my thanks is much the same…I am thankful for being a mom to the 2 greatest kids in the world. I am thankful for Paul, our friends and family who have been there for us through the good and bad. I am thankful for life, although many times I wish it was mine that was lost not Amelie’s. But I am thankful I am here to witness a semi-perfect picture of our family.

Happy Thanksgiving to all! Especially to my friends who have lost…its different for us but special, all the same.

Well it’s true, once you have newborn – things that consumed your everyday thoughts somehow get filtered to the back of the line. By this, I’m referring to memories of Amelie. My mother-guilt of course hits me from time to time and I think I’m an absolute awful person.

But just the other day, I sat alone while Oliver peacefully slept and my husband played on his playstation – I sat there in my dark room just thinking of Amelie. Instead of envisioning what she would have been like today as a rambunctious 20 month old – I just started peacefully remembering the moments I spent with her while she was here…the soft kisses I gave to her as I give to my son now and recalling her girlie-cries and her gentleness. I remembered her eyes and how piecing they were, like she’s been here before – like an old soul.

I sit here, typing this post and crying. I did not cry thinking of Amelie that night. I was happy. I was happy that I spent the best 15 days of my life with someone as special as her.