To love and be loved in return.

The other day, as my husband and I braved the crowds Christmas shopping, a woman with the "December frantic" look on her face, slammed her cart into mine as she rounded the corner. She was moving so rapidly, there was enough force to bump my shopping cart into my pregnant stomach. In my "accidents happen" reaction, I started to move the cart closer to the shelves trying to give the shopper more space to glide freely down the isle. Before I could courtiously do so, ignorantly expecting your typical polite reaction exchanged between two strangers, the woman scraped her cart down the side of mine too impatient and caught up in her own life to show decency to another human being. And when the pure shock lifted from me, my heart hurt.

As a Christian, I celebrate Christmas. I choose to believe that "for God so loved the world, he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." (-John 3:16) I openly chose to, as some would say, put all my faith in something that cannot be seen. And however you feel about me based on my decisions I can live with that. If you would rather hear "Happy Holidays" over "Merry Christmas," that is just as much your prerogative as it is mine to choose Jesus Christ as my Lord and savior. But this blog post is not me defending my faith or religion. This post is not about my Christmas and your Holiday.

I don't know all there is to know about other religions. I don't know details about atheism, buddhism, muslim, or being jewish and celebrating hanukkah. Aside from the separations between my Christianity and any of the above preferences, I do not see why mankind is so incapable of love. Regardless of differences. Regardless of religion. Especially this time of year. No matter what we are choosing to celebrate.

I sat wrapping presents yesterday as my little ones sat watching "Mickey's Once Upon a Christmas." A child's cartoon teaches something so simple that most humans have lost sight of. Donald Duck gave his nephews a Christmas card that read,

"Christmas isn't about candy canes, holly, or lights all aglow,

its about the lives that we touch and the care that we show."

I have experienced it now. The unknown first year. We endured all of the traditional holidays. The first year through grief, for me, was not only about healing and growing, it was also about learning. As a mother burying her child, you have to learn to walk all over again. One baby step at a time. You have to learn how to go about your daily life with a permanent absence. You have to learn how to celebrate these holidays minus one. And you have to learn to accept the crulety in the world when they acknowledge the sweet life you cherish, in a dark and cynical manner.

A very strong and beautiful friend of mine today, once again, held her head high today as she defended her two sons. She proudly display's pictures of them on her desk at work. Both born premature, one little man in heaven, one special needs sweetheart here with her. A co-worker, also a new employee walked by her desk and one of the pictures caught the woman's eye. As if these pictures were the most offensive thing she would see all day, she asked in disgust, "Is THAT your baby? Oh my gosh, WHAT is wrong with him!"

I now know mothers of loss. But I know mothers of special needs as well. They face the same disturbed reaction, that we who carry death around with us do. If not more. We can disclose the information. Our babies are always there, but not viewable to all.

And just in the same way people can bump into you and neglect to offer a simple apology, people can be judgmental, rude, and harsh. Mothers proudly take their special needs children with them everywhere. And I would do the exact same. Whether the world has lost sight of love and compassion or not.

A family member of mine, will not come around me. Not only are they angry of the death of Savannah, the life of Davis has only succeeded in making the bitterness worse. Since I lost one, this precious boy, is only viewed through death's eyes for this family member. I see women choose to have babies after the heartache of tragedy everyday. I know I will have to experience the first year all over again, yet in a different way. I will see the milestones. I will have the little one at the holidays. And all over again, I will have to experience this change, minus one. But that IS what Christmas, or "this holiday" means.

A love SO strong,

a parent would sacrifice everything. 

In the end, 

loving someone,

is the greatest gift of all. 

A different life.

Let me tell you a story. A story from only one year ago on this day. There was a pregnant young women, expecting a healthy baby. She sat surrounded by family and friends at a baby shower. She was ignorant. She was naive. She believed when a doctor tells you everything is just fine, everything was fool proof.
She took pictures of her big thirty six week belly. She is smiling in all of these pictures. But what you cannot see in those pictures is pain behind that smile. Because this was a time before there was a sorrow in every smile. Captured in every picture. This was a time that babies didn't just die. One year ago today, this women lived in a better world. A world that infant death, and birth defects were cliche. A world before this became her world.
This women in those last twenty four hours, never dreamed she would and could plan a funeral. She never dreamed of delivering that baby, that she would never hold in her arms, unless cradled one last time on a pillow. It was her very last day, in the real world. Before she entered a new world. A world separate from everyone else.
Separate from the people without heartache behind their smiles. Separate from the unknowing nature of everyone who doesn't "get it." Separate from the ones who give grief a time limit. And although we are separated from the ones who keep their babies, there are many of us here. Through the past year, my husband and I realize that though we have to go through this alone, we are never truly alone. There will always be those like us. That having been down this dark journey, our grief, our loss, is important. As the weeks followed today one year ago, some in "the other world" went back to their daily lives. They got busy. They couldn't find time to call, or come by. They showed that they really didn't care. And why would they?
Such as sad situation. The death of anyone, let alone an infant. A mere eight days old. But it wasn't theirs. So when the clouds lifted and she was placed in the ground, I can't help but think people must think the clouds have lifted from the parents as well.
At first, as a new comer to this new place, I was hurt. But then as I ventured out and met other lovely women who also have the stories of life before and life after I realized that those are the women who don't put a expiration date on grief. Those are the ladies who will remember and speak our Savannah's name long after she is gone. They are the ones who will forever say, "how are you?" They are the women who see past the smiles in the pictures and know when you are filling up with tears. I hope I can always return the favor to each of you. When those days arise, which I know they always do, and you feel like no one cares, I can say, "Thinking of you and your angel."
Though a year ago today, I was a different person, I have found wonderment in this new place we call home. That is the mommies who walk this path with me, and their babies and the stories they have left on my heart.
Two nights ago, I planned something else I never dreamed I would be doing one year ago today. Celebrating Savannah's first birthday in Heaven. It was small, but intimate and beautiful. I am sure she looked down on us with her heart full of love and many friends at her own birthday celebration. We love you Savannah. One more day, and you will be One...

 {Her Beautiful Cake.}

In the rear view mirrors.

The further we get from August, brings us closer to August once more. I haven't written much lately. I haven't really known what to say. There are times that I can't express through words what my heart is saying.

birth day/ noun

The annual anniversary of the day on which a person was born.

It isn't the same anymore. Yes, it's an annual occurrence. But how can you describe the day a baby was born, who never got to see a birth day. A baby who never got to know what life was from the day of their birth? I don't think you can describe that. Yes, the day they were born. But a day that sets the journey for the rest of your life as well. But in a different way. 

I will always be grateful for my opportunity to know, and love my Savannah. I know Koady wouldn't disagree with  that either. But it is a hard life for those that spend the rest of our lives, without that one. The one who really makes you who you are. The one who never got to be, yours.

A friend recently told me, I deal with the death of Savannah, in some similar ways to a man. How a man deals with mortality. I told her, I love seeing Savannah's pictures on the walls of my house. But at the same time, it still hurts to walk past her pretty face everyday. To see what a beautiful creation she was, and know I will not get to see her physical face again for a long time. Photographs are frozen moments in time. But a time that we will never ever get to get back. We will never have her back again. 

As her birthday approaches, I feel so much  resurfacing from last years events. And it makes me angry once more. Not angry at saying goodbye. Not angry in the outcome. Angry that my life has continued for almost one year without her. A parents life is supposed to end long before their child's. And the burden of staying? That burden hurts far worse than anything someone could ever imagine. I wake up everyday to continue on in a life that shouldn't be without her in it. My life is lived with a void. I listen to people complain about so many things. Things that I wish more than anything I could take on as my own. Please trade me your life. Please trade me your problems. I will take all of them if it means I can have my baby back. I don't want to helplessly look for reminders of her. I don't want to share her soul with others. This is how I described it a few nights ago... as hot tears uncontrollably soaked my cheeks through desperate sobs of an empty mother's life...

"Everyone tells me about Savannah being with them.

Here's what hurts me with that. I know it's true.

I know that Savannah understands more than I will ever know in my life.

But there are times that I wish people understood that

I DON'T WANT TO SHARE HER.

It never got to be just mommy and Savannah.

In the quiet of the world.

I want to be holding her in MY arms, and if someone

else is thinking of her somewhere else in the world,
she is looking up at ME.

And her world rises and sets on her mommy.

That in that moment, she isn't with EVERYONE.

In that moment no one else in the world matters

because she is gazing into her mommy's eyes,

and her mommy is gazing right back into hers...

I never got that.

And I want it back.

I want her to be MINE.

And it will never be like that now."

It's my life now. Almost one year later, it's still my life. No matter how badly I don't want to live without her, it will always be my life. On my birthday's... and hers. One year of grief, and it probably will never be easier without them.

Since people want to hear a sad story.

I've written this once before. A very similar story. Since August 2010, it seems as though so many movies are coming out about children dying. Back in January I watched The Rabbit Hole starring Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart. I wrote about what I thought of the movie here.

http://fraserlifeunfolding.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-brick.html



Tonight, I made my second attempt in watching a movie where a baby dies. "The Other Woman" with Natalie Portman. But here is the thing that I wonder... Who writes these stories? Who sits down types out a manuscript based on their ideas or theory's on what exactly is must be like to loose a child?

The Other Woman, goes against so many... Okay, almost all of my moral values. The setting takes place after a woman sets her sites on a married man at work, and knowing he has a family, sets out to pursue him otherwise. A business meeting turns into a heated affair, where she winds up pregnant with his second child. After divorcing his wife, and remarrying his pregnant "mistress", they try to squeeze his eight year old son into their new life after loosing their newborn daughter from SIDS.

Not only did I feel the step mother mistreated his son, I felt as though the little boy wasn't allowed to, and wasn't helped in the grieving of his baby sister either. Not always does a baby die in a family without other children. And as parents, grieving parents at that, we have to put our children and their heartache above our own. Unfortunately for this story line, being she wasn't his biological mother, she showed that she had very little concern for the child that was not hers. And at times you felt as though, she had hatred towards the little boy that he survived and her baby didn't. It would have completed the picture perfect life she set out to find when she interferred with another family. Not to say that the married man wasn't equally to blame. Because he was. There is never any excuse for that.

This is the second movie now, that threw an affair into the emotional rollercoaster that is loosing a child. I can say, that not once in this journey I thought leaving my husband would "fix" my "problem."

It has been made apparent to me that people just want to hear a sad story. But only sad to a certain convienience. A friend and angel mom, agreed with me that these two stories start after the baby is gone. This leaves people feeling less attached to the child missing from the story. If you want a story about an infant death, let's bring the child into the picture....

Lets show the pregnancy leading up to the birth of that child. Lets show the mother who, never gets to look into her babies eyes to see their soul because the soul has already left. Let's show the mother who's baby never cries, and in a moment leaves the delivery room unable to fill their lungs with air. Let's tell the story of the healthy baby that is welcomed into the family. Yes, by all means... lets tell this story.... since people want to hear a "sad" story.

A healthy baby boy or girl is born. The mother spends nights in the hospital loving, nursing, and absorbing this baby. A few days later that sweet vibrant child gets to come home. Mommy dresses baby in the best outfit picked for this special moment. Big brothers or sisters await for her. The days continue. Mommy nurses. Daddy changes diapers. They loose sleep night after night, for the little person they love so much. Big brother or sister talks to baby in his or her swing, and put the pacifiers back consistantly everytime it pops out of the sweet little mouth. Baby gets bathed, and with a full belly and a lullabye gets gently placed into their crib. Mommy stands there so much in love, just staring, watching her baby breathe. The last time mommy see's baby breathing. A lifeless body lays in the crib. So different from the child that lay there hours before. A coroner takes that loved baby away. A lifeless mother is asked questions for the police report. They take everything from baby's crib. And they leave. This mother is left to life. A life that she had opened up to a child that is now missing. The dryer is going... It's washing armfuls of tiny baby socks, and spitup onesies. A husband and wife are left to each other. To mourn. To help their children mourn. To learn to live with the burden that is death.

Wait, does that story seem too sad? Too real? Then tell the one about the mother and father that fight every day for weeks, while their baby struggles day and night to survive. Only until one day they are given the news that no matter what, that little life can hold on no longer. Then we will watch as the two people, who came together in their love, sit and watch as their child dies in their very arms. As the little body becomes heavier and heavier as their baby becomes limper and limper loosing more life with each passing second.

Now. Tell that story. When someone does, then come find me. Cause THOSE are the REAL stories. You will never find them written in the fairy tale books, that so many people are looking to find. These are lives, not stories. And they never end in happily ever after so to speak... If your gonna tell it. For our sake, atleast tell it right...

A day for mothers.

Once again, so much time has passed since my last blog entry. Day after tomorrow, Sunday May 8th, marks my sixth mothers day.

Day after tomorrow, Sunday, May 8th, also marks my first mothers day. My first mothers day minus a soul my "motherhood" brought into existence. I am a mother of four this year. When people refer to my children, un-meaningly,  most continue to only acknowledge three.

In honor of this special day very near and dear to my heart, I would like to say once again;

I am a mother of four.

Then.

Now.

Always.

The Rest of my life.

My Sarah, Michael, and Brody changed my life. Each one in a different way. Each one brought new growth. Becoming a mother can not NOT change you if you are dedicated to that divine purpose. But my Savannah? She changed my life in a deeper way. A very spiritual way.

A friend of mine published a quote recently on her daughters memorial page,

" I never realized how strong I really was,

until I had no choice."

This is so true, and no one can understand until you have stared down a tiny six foot hole, where you lay your child to rest one final time.

Savannah's stay was short, but I, Savannah's mother, have assumed responsibility to be her voice. To carry on her life unlived. As I believe to be true, for many mothers of angels. Each tragic death of every infant, every child is never in vain. Some mothers bring awareness. Some mothers build fundraisers. Some mothers make bears, cards, bracelets. Some volunteer their time or encourage walks. We become the lives of the little ones who could not stay. 

It's being a mother.

Even once they leave our homes, leave our lives, we don't ever stop...

being their mother. 

And it never ever goes away. 

Just because you cannot see her, doesn't mean she isn't here. Because every time I speak, you hear her speaking too. Every time I laugh, you hear her laughing too. Everything I do, a part of Savannah's soul motivates me, inspires me, encourages me. When you look at me, you SEE my FOURTH child.

I am living, breathing, proof she is here. I carried her soul inside of me for nine, long, but too short, months. She then carried her soul for eight days all on her own. Now she is carried in my heart.

This is being a mother.

It is sacrificial.

For each and every child.

 Even ones long gone, but never far away.

This... is what a day

for mothers is all about.

We are still mothers to them,

long after they are gone.

Because then we are the mother...

And the child.

My four blessings.

Thank you for making me a mother.

Happy Mothers Day!

You are all glorious, women!!!

Intuitions.

There isn't a time I can remember that I didn't always plan on having four children. When we had Brody I knew I still wanted my fabulous four. But there were questions in the back of my mind... and I am not sure if every mother wonders this. Ever so often I would wonder, "I have three healthy beautiful children already. Should I not chance it and just stop here?"

Awful right?

With everything that panned out with my fourth, I've thought, could negative thinking impact the way situations turn out? In thinking that something could go wrong... In reading other stories during Savannah's pregnancy... In listening to "I will carry you" over and over again... In thinking and preparing for an infant funeral in my mind with being told everything was okay??... Could thoughts have caused this? Or for years did I know that Savannah was my temporary baby girl? My momentary gift?

Again I find myself wondering... is it possible I am setting myself up for another bleak outcome? Whether people want to acknowledge that Savannah was.... Savannah IS my FOURTH child.

But she couldn't stay.

And now I want five.

But it isn't happening.

And because it was always so easy to get pregnant before, I find myself wondering... Was four it for me? Am I destined to go through the rest of my life with, as other people always say, "my THREE children?" Savannah isn't a physical presence and because she is no longer with us, people classify me as a mother of only three. But I am not a mother of three. I was never meant to be a mother of three. I am a mother of four. And my deepest desire is to be a physical mother of four.  An angel mommy of one.

April 15th, we sold our seven seater SUV. We bought it February 2010. We couldn't wait to pull up to the hospital later that summer and bring Savannah home. But our large family automobile brought us home empty handed. The pink flowered car seat never once touched the gray leather. She never saw the car we bought for her. Our black Lincoln Navigator only carried broken hearts and medical supplies. It's purpose was at UC Davis, and moonlit drives filled with the darkest tears. It lead the funeral procession, and knew Savannah only as hospitals and the tail end of a white hearse.

At gas approaching five dollars a gallon, we cut our losses in a double sense. 1) We were paying almost five dollars a gallon for a purpose that didn't get to be, and 2) Our hopes of filling the empty seat get father out of our reach each month that passes...

I did not know that babies die so often. That it is so common. I thought it was a rare tragic story. I thought the women who did loose their precious babies were so strong, so brave... that there must be something so much deeper about them for them to loose a child.

Let me tell you... there's not. 

We are not braver or stronger than any other woman out there. We have a wound that heals slowly, but is always there. We approach life differently, and feel at times secluded from the mothers who don't bury their  babies. We are adjusting to a new way of life. And there are a lot of us.

A lot.

And each of these woman understand what it is like to be called brave. To be called strong. If I may seem any of these things to you... Just know I am not responsible for my strength or bravery. We live a secluded life, from the moment we stare death down face to face. Because we can NEVER go back to the place where we don't know babies die. We can never see a pregnant woman and wonder. We can never look at a passing baby in the same manner. 

This is life of a grieving mother.

It never goes away. The wound may not always be fresh.

But scar tissue will always remain. 

Saying goodbye to our SUV was more than an automobile.

It was saying goodbye to hopes and dreams we once had.

Spreading her story.

Here at "A Story Unfolding" today, we hit sixty followers. (Not including my facebook fans!) And it made my heart smile. Me being a "blogger" blogger, I know what it means to follow someone. It means you are truly interested in what they write about. Something about their story, their life, touches you, inspires you, motivates you. These wonderful people care enough about this journey I'm on to want updates on when I post again. They have read Savannah's story, they are connected.

For that I want to say thank you.

Thank you for being on the quiet side of things,

while I write about my girl.

If that's what it takes to praise you.

"Bring me joy, bring me peace,

bring the chance to be free,

bring me anything that brings you Glory.

And I know there'll be days when this life brings me pain,

But if that's what it takes to Praise you,

Jesus Bring the Rain."

Yes, this has been done once before. It's a little cliche. Angie Smith writes her blog, "Bring the Rain" from her own journey through child loss. But as cliche as it may sound, {using the chorus from the same song that inspired her blog title} as one christian angel mommy to the next... this song sums up exactly how we get through trials like this. Life without Savannah isn't easy, but from the bottom of my heart {a heart that really does praise Him through this} I still say, "Jesus Bring the Rain." This pain on earth will never measure up to the glory that awaits us through Him.

I have been asked this question. {Let me tell you, it is a devastating question to be asked.}

"Is something wrong with you?"

It is a hurtful question, but a question I feel a lot of women want to know. It is a hurtful question because I feel in my peace, and comfort through the loss of Savannah, people wonder if I ever really loved her at all. Because my heart doesn't ache to the point of world altering recognition, I must not have wanted her. I must not have bonded with her. I must not care. I've also been told, "that I didn't deserve her." 

I want to point something else out. I have met some wonderful women through this. Each who grieve differently. I don't judge, criticize, or try and fix anything. In the death of a child there aren't any fixes. I am there for each one of these empty mothers. I listen. I understand. I root, cheer, and encourage. Whether they are crying, laughing, or yelling on facebook. {Aren't we all notorious for letting our feelings out there on facebook?} Because that is the best medicine.  Support. Cheering. Empathy. Encouragement.

You wanna yell?

I will cheer you on.

Yell for the memory of your baby!

 You wanna cry? 

I will silently sit and carry your sorrows.

I will pray for the mother that can't hold her baby.

 You wanna laugh? 

Well... let's just say, I can make anyone laugh!

And if you have an unmeasurable faith in God?

I will never assume you didn't love your child.

I would never say you didn't deserve them.

After Savannah's funeral, I did go through my own stage of grief. This was ::frustration::. I know I spoke casually and briefly about this feeling in the first few months. Slowly the frustration I was feeling slowly subsided and I was able to express my emotions to some of the people who were causing these struggles. The other day, a feeling that I haven't felt since before Savannah's funeral resurfaced. And my heart ached to the point of feeling like I could no longer express myself. My thoughts were jumbled again, and I... in all honesty... just wanted to scream. I wanted to sit down with every family member and friend that I have and tell them exactly what my thoughts and feelings are with giving Savannah back. But I couldn't. I can't. I cannot gather everyone. I couldn't in that moment express exactly what I was feeling. Then in that moment, I was the grieving mother that announced my imploding and heavy heart emotions on... facebook. 

And there they were. The same girls I would be there for, in the reverse situation. Grieving mothers. And mother's who reached out to me when I started writing this farewell, and have grabbed onto my heart and will never let go. They cheered me on and talked me through, yet again, my frustration. 

And in this process the other day, those women helped me heal. They didn't tell me I was lashing out... They didn't say I shouldn't feel that way... They didn't try and direct my emotions elsewhere. They encouraged. They cheered. They held onto my sorrow with their warrior strength, until I was ready to let go. And in doing so, I finally was able to put words into my frustration. These words I feel need to be expressed here. Because in this journey that I am documenting... this frustration was my grief.

Obviously, my husband and I have not withheld the fact that God is the center of our life. In this, we feel and believe that His strength got us through. His glory brought Savannah into our lives. And His purpose brought her home. I don't care if you believe this or not. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. This is what we believe. This is what trust. And this is what we are instilling in our children. In her days on earth, Savannah was brought to know Him. We fulfilled our roles as her parents, and in that I am so proud. We did not cry while we held her during her final hour. We laughed throughout the story daddy shared as we mentioned silly things such as, "we don't know why we moved across the United States a second time." We came home that same night, and were greeted by concerned family members. We showed them her beautiful handprints, footprints, and hairclippings. We took our Savannah smelling blankets up to bed and went right to sleep. Yes, the first night having just held our baby in our arms as she died, we were at such a peace, neither one of us cried ourselves to sleep. Neither one of us cried. I clung to people telling me, "it is just shock, give it time." I kept waiting, anticipating that heartache I saw and read so many people experience. Day in and day out that rain cloud never consumed me. I finally realized that God was my umbrella. He was what consumed me, and it protected my heart from feeling complete emptiness. His word promises me that I will be with my Savannah again someday. 

I am so thankful for that, and owe Him my gratitude each and everyday. He never ceases to amaze me.

Anger with God is common. I understand why some people find themselves angry at Him. I believe that He understands as well. We can't always, and sometimes never see the bigger picture in what His plans are for us. In the good things sure, but the bad things aren't always as easy. I would never try to tell a mother that she couldn't be angry with Him. That is solely between God, and the mother or father He took the child from. In our situation though, {Savannah's death} I feel NO ONE should have a right to be angry at God for her sake. And this is why.

In our family we are not the only one who carry an "angel" in front of our titles.

{Mommy and Daddy}

We have an 

angel grandpa & grandma:: angel Grammy:: 

angel Granny & Pappy.

We have angel great grandmas.

We have angel cousins, angel aunts & angel uncles.

Ofcourse we have angel brothers, 

and an angel sister.

These are the family members who also lost something. We have all been granted an "angel" in from of our names. These family members love our children. They loved Savannah. They miss her. They've cried for her. I understand their heartache from the now missing family member. But all the same, we are her parents. We created this life, this person, this beautiful baby. For anybody close to us, I don't see what they have to be angry at God for? The parents of Savannah, the ones who would see her everyday, the ones who would feed her, nurture her, and raise her, the ones who think about these children every second of everyday for the rest of their lives... lift up their arms and Praise Him. Why are other family members punishing God for the plans that have been set for each of us since time began? For something the parents accept? Understand? We all have a time set for the end of our days. Savannah's time frame was short yes, but her life, her soul, was far more important. She still got to leave a mark.

I imagine my innocent, precious Savannah holding the hand of God. All the while her family members turn away from Him in their own selfish attitudes. She tugs at His side, and looks up at Him with her big beautiful brown eyes. Her tiny, delicate voice says, "I'm sorry God, they are only angry at you because of me." And in thinking of our heavenly baby apologizing for being the cause of someones hatred towards her maker? I get a little frustrated.

My baby may be dead, yes. But that doesn't mean I am not still a protective mother, in every aspect of that word. Mother.

To me, someone being angry at God

on behalf of my Savannah?

The one whom she belongs to?

If my daughter ever had to say,

"they are only angry at you because of me?"

 She might see that her existance

caused people to be angry with 

the Lord.

And as her mother, I do not like that.

She was here.

REJOICE in that.

Be envious that it only took her eight days,

to get to live in eternal perfection.

Savannah is rocked by angels,

and kissed by the Lord.

It frustrates me,

that people can be angry that

OUR daughter,

couldn't stay.

Couldn't stay;

Here in a world of murder.

Kidnapping.

Hate.

I will protect my others the best I can.

As my guardian role from God.

 Savannah?...

Savannah I don't have to worry about.

She is safe.

But I will still protect her in my heart.

Don't say sorry Savannah.

Don't you ever be sorry.

{{Jesus Bring the Rain.}}

Life doesn't wait for you.

I am not trying to sound harsh in this post, so please,
don't mistake what I am about to say.

It may be controversial to some.

I am a lover of the Duggar family! I love their strong faith, their devoted marriage, and their patient, loving parenting. To ALL 19 kids... and counting. 

When Savannah was first born, and whisked away to the NICU, my mom rubbed my arm as I was crying and said, "if Josie Duggar can make it, than Savannah can make it." It meant a lot to me, being I followed along side of Jim Bob and Michelle as they prayed for their tiny premature baby girl. I cried the evening Michelle had an emergency C-section. I remember the exact words Jim Bob said to the camera teary eyed in his hospital scrubs.

"This situation is fixing to change our lives...

...Forever.

But we praise God when all the good things are happening.
And we are going to praise God, even through this difficult situation."

 -Jim Bob Duggar

It broke my heart to hear all of the negative critisizim they faced when they were fighting for baby Josie's life. Even more so now. I think it is everyone's God given right, to have a baby. When they want, and how ever many they might want. And I mean God given in the sense, a gift from God. I think the only people who shouldn't have babies are the ones who are not planning on investing time, energy, and love into that child. And if that is the case, there are many wonderful families out there hoping and praying to adopt. 

I walked through Safeway one evening with my mother-in-law. I told her I was embarrassed that I wasn't "pregnant" anymore. Perplexed, she asked "why?" I told her, "maybe embarrassed isn't the word, I just feel this gives people even more of a reason, after what happened with Savannah to think, they really shouldn't have another." She said, as she continued looking for what we were there to get, "you know what? Who cares what other people think."

As any mother it is hard to hear outsiders opinions, {and they are always offered whether we want them or not} about having children. People are even more opinionated about having babies "after a loss." I think there is a stigma that comes with loosing a child. Sadly, you loose friends over it... why wouldn't some people think "infant death" was contagious?

But... It's NOT. And having a baby after loosing a child, we don't want you to scare us about chances and statistics. Because we are aware. We are afraid. We don't want to hear how concerned you might be, for whatever reason. Because right now, we are more concerned than you will ever be. We don't want to hear, you think it is best if we wait. Because right now, in whatever moment we are in... Our heart tells us it is right. Whether we have one baby, or nineteen... we are all following the plans that are right for our lives. Just smile. It's okay to be happy for the moment we are in right now.

Because life won't wait for you.

We are not who we once were.

I read a blog post from a dear friend of mine, whom is also an angel mom to the most beautiful baby boy. She celebrated her 30th birthday, and though seconds, minutes, days, and months have passed since we sent our babies to a place we cannot yet be, she acknowledges that in a moment we can be triggered. "Proceed with Caution" she said.  

"Proceed with Caution." 

This... was the perfect statement.

We stand united. Families who have lost a child. We live in a place, just like our babies, that no one else can be either. This weekend my husband and I were by ourselves. The kids were gone for three entire days, and the time I spent with my husband was heavenly. I forgot some of the things that are always there between us. I love him everyday ofcourse, but in three short days, I was able to fall in love with him again. We spent our evenings enjoying each others company. Uninterrupted. Friday evening we went out to dinner. In an instant, my eyes locked with a beautiful baby boys. No one in the world, other than my husband, can see my world crumble in moments such as these. No one in the world realizes that I notice and glance at every baby that comes into my path these days. No one in the world realizes that simple, "everyday" comments may sounds completely differently to someone who hasn't lost a baby. Unless you have lost a child, you have to walk a little lighter, and tread a little softer than you did once before. You have to make a conscious decision to think sometimes before you speak. "Proceed with Caution."

I may have a baby bassinet that would take up "less space" if it was broken down, and taken apart. This is one of those moments, a "normal" person doesn't stop to think. I'm sorry if the bassinet that was supposed to cradle my Savannah takes up too much space in your eyes. No I am NOT going to take it apart. Period. If I have to keep it in my bedroom the rest of my life then so be it. You may hear a space saving idea.... here is what I hear: Savannah takes up too much space... or time to move on... or it's just furniture.

This is what I have of her. This bassinet... that would save space being taken apart so we can shove it in the back corners, IS what Savannah has left behind.

{Made with love for angel mommies and daddies.}

Visit Tiffany here, and bask in Mr. Julius' heavenly beauty:

 Holy Pee Stick Batman 

Thank you Tiffany,

For showing me it was okay to say this...

Thank you.

I wanted to take a quick moment today, to say a quick thank you for the comments I just read from my wonderful friends/followers.

What I asked was a very hard and blunt question. As a parent, {especially those who have made that decision} you love your child more than your own life itself to want to make the decision to say "when" God's time for them was here.

After reading those of you who said "everyone is given a time from God," it brought tears to my eyes. And not in a bad way. Sometimes I just need that little reminder and guided encouragment. My husband told me today after reading my last post that he wondered the same question shortly after Savannah was gone. "Was it the right decison."

And yes, it was.  

The doctor told us very frankly, "she has no chance." ECMO may have been able to sustaine her life from now until eternity, but that is just it. Savannah, didn't have a chance. And that my friends... was God's plan. In saying goodbye to a piece of our heart that night, we may have saved other babies in the process. Other babies with every chance in the world.

The evening when we first recieved the news, through teary eyes, I asked, "can't I just give her one of my lungs?" Clearly the answer was obvious. No I truly didn't believe an adult sized lung would be a perfect match for an eight day old newborn, but it was sheer desperation. But the fact of the matter is, I would have. I would have given both my lungs if I could have. I would have given her every organ, and laid down my own life for that precious being. We had and have so much love for such a tiny little girl, turning those machines off was not and will never be, murder. It was love. 

She did though in fact, take my heart with her to the grave.

Thank you.

I am so blessed to call you my friends.

The night before Christmas.

The night before Christmas

{Revised for angel mommy & daddies}

Written by: Megan Fraser
{Copyright}

Twas the night before Christmas

when all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring,

not even a mouse.

A little stocking was hung

by the chimney with care.

Though hopes it be filled,

would never be there.

A baby was missing,

from being snug in their bed.

While tear soaked pillows,

surrounded their heads.

Mommy with her blanket,

and daddy with her hat,

Couldn't settle down

for a long winter's nap.

When down in their heart,

there arose such a clatter.

They sprang from the bed

to see what was the matter.

Away to the window they flew 

and they dashed.

Tore open the curtains

and saw a bright flash.

When what to their wondering eyes

should appear,

but a beautiful angel,

precious, tiny, and dear.

She stood there before them,

pure happiness and health,

and they laughed when they saw her,

in spite of themself.

She smiled and she stared,

and didn't offer  a sound.

She outstretched her arms,

And flew from the ground.

They stared and they cried,

tears streamed down their face.

They knew in their hearts,

she had found the right place.

As she rose higher and higher

to the heavens above.

She left mommy and daddy

with nothing but love.

But they heard her exclaim

as she drifted from sight,

Merry Christmas Mommy and Daddy.

Please have a good night.

Cherry on Top

In honor of today's 50th blog posting since Savannah's death,

I would like to share that a dear friend and blog reader,

gave me a blog award!! 

Though I am honored,

I don't feel my blog is of "award" material.

I know there are only a few avid readers out there,

but because you still feel I am worthy,

I would LOVE to say...

THANK YOU
TIFFANY & JULIUS!!!

*50 Posts*

Look how far we've come Savannah!

Reflections at Christmas.

I sat down today, to catch up on all of the wonderful blogs I read out there. There was one, from a wonderful writer, a loving mother and wife, and woman after God's own heart, that really stuck with me. Wendi, mother of five, lost J.D. almost 8years ago. Identical twin to his precious brother K. Her words brought me comfort reading about her strength in Christ, like mine, from her own time of loss. 

Yesterday, with her gorgeous bundle of one year old boy, she saw a reflection in a Christmas ornament of the chubby, adorable, little guy in her arms as she held him up to the wonderment.

Suddenly, even after almost 8years, it hit her. There have been many reflections in those ornaments through the years, but there is one that she will never get to see. That baby boy, that touched her life in his short 10days....

My ornaments too, will always mourn a face they will never get to shine upon either. A beautiful girl that would have loved the glow of magic. Years will pass, and the healing and peace will forever grace us with it's presence, but our arms will always ache for the one. The one that never got to be. 

Though I really thought this Christmas season would be a lot harder than it has shown to be, maybe it is that Christmas brings the world closer to the Lord. People are more giving, more loving, more drawn to the holy spirit that flows through our veins. Maybe that has brought me comfort, feeling just a little closer to heaven. A little closer to Savannah. She is here with us. Just like J.D. is at home with his mommy, daddy, and four younger brothers. 

I am sure there is a reflection of our babies in those ornaments... 

Look a little harder... 

Do you see your own reflection? If you see yourself, you see the love you always have for them. That is a reflection that will never fade away...   

Cry sweet Wendi... it's okay to cry.

Who are you little one?

So you may think it's a little soon for my husband and I to be thinking of baby names... but we are. And we already have the boy named official. But although we have a middle name picked out for a girl, we cannot decide on a first name.

For a baby boy,

::Lincoln Davis::

Lincoln

"From the lake"

Meaning has no real significance.

It isn't anything special or meaningful.

But after Savannah passed my husband and I found

ourselves watching countless TV shows that were either 

over or had many seasons to pre occupy our minds.

We found ourselves enjoying... Prison Break.

It is actually a good show, and we found alot

of humor in it, as we joked about the silly

things the inmates would say or do.

Kind of unrealistic, but we liked it.

It brought us happiness and laughter...

One of the main characters name's was Lincoln.

His brother's name was Michael.
Michael's girlfriends name was Sarah.

We liked it.

We thought it would make a good
middle name with Davis.

We were planning on having Davis as the first name.

But then I met a dear friend on facebook.

We have never met face to face, but sadly

we have a great deal in common.

Our babies are friends in heaven.

Her Serenity and my Savannah.

Beautiful Serenity Morgyn was born July 11th, 2010.

Her mommy was only six month pregnant. 

She went to heaven the same day.

Serenity's mommy, has been such a place of comfort.

She has brought much needed laughter to my life

these days, and I realized something a few days ago...

Serenity lived with her mommy and daddy in

Lincoln, Alabama.

And I knew, that Lincoln was designed to be the first name.

(((Thank you Serenity)))
(Hug my girl for me)


{Click here to read Serenity's Story}

Davis

"Son of David"

Obvious reasons.

UC Davis Medical Center

The keeper of Savannah's life.

They deserve so much more than just a name.

And the middle name for a baby girl,

::Faith::

Faith

"Belief, Faith."

Something we have for this baby.

Something we had for Savannah.

Faith that everything happends for a reason.

Faith that everything will be okay.

Faith that the Lord holds her life in His hands.

But, we can't decide on a first name. So many things we have been considering, but nothing speaks to us yet. Some we have considered:

Laura

"Crowned with Laurel."

Like I've mentioned,

Laura was Savannah's nurse at Davis.

She treasured our girl, & holds a place in our hearts.

Anna

"Gracious, Merciful"

Strong touching meaning.

Could carry a piece of Savannah's name.

Sophia

"Wisdom"

Another good meaning.

Goes with the beginning "S" names of our girls,

and ends in the "ah" sound of our girls.

If you have any suggestions,

please I would love to know...

You could help name our Rainbow baby!

{If we have a girl ofcourse.}