days-of-plenty

Tending...

Mon, 05 Jul 2010 11:06:00 +0100

Grief can't be shared. Everyone carries it alone. His own burden in his own way. Anne Morrow Lindbergh

It's time for me to spend some time tending to my own emotional and spirtual garden.

I hope to return shortly to continue our services.

One Year.

Wed, 23 Jun 2010 16:01:04 +0100

My darling Ella –

Sunday is the day I’ve been dreading for the past year. For, after Sunday, I will no longer be able to measure my time away from you in days, weeks, or months. No. After Sunday it will be in years – something I find impossible to believe. Has it really been a year since I held your tiny hand and kissed your sweet toes? A year since I held you to me as my tears fell? A year since we were left with only a small pink hat, blanket and urn to remember you by?

Oh, my baby… how I long for you. I wish I had more time with you. I wish I had been able to hear your cries and comfort you. And I wish you were able to hear your daddy and I tell you over and over how beautiful you are and how much we love you.

Ella, I’ve said in the past that your big brother Jack is the closest thing I have found for proof of God’s existence. But that all changed with you. I haven’t told this part of your story to many people – it’s too sacred. But maybe that’s why it needs to be told.

After the pain of finding out you were gone, after the 60 hours of labor, I was so tired. Tired of trying to put on a brave face, tired of the emotional and physical pain, tired of sleeping in the hospital and missing my Jack. All I wanted was for it to be over. And then… at 7:05 PM that Saturday night, the 27^th of June… it was. It was over. I felt you leave my body and all at once I realized that this was it – I was losing you. I had lost you.

There was no newborn cries filling the room. No hustle and bustle or congratulations being offered. Only a hushed silence as they took you from me. Until my screams filled the room. My anguished cries of Why God? NO. Cries I can hardly bear to remember because of the pain and desperation in my voice. Your daddy was so afraid. I was afraid. And I could find no comfort. Not in words, or in touch. Until… until…

Until they placed you in my arms. All 9 ounces and 9 inches of you. Covered in your little pink blanket and hat that someone lovingly made for a baby just your size. And all at once I felt it – God’s grace. He held me in His hands as I held you. He filled my heart and body and mind with His peace so I could be fully present during my all too brief time with you. I could admire your beauty, marvel over your long arms and legs, laugh over your toes – so like your dad’s. I could spend the time fully loving on you and be briefly suspended from my grief – there would be time enough for that later. God held me as we kissed you goodbye and watched them carry you away. He held me as I curled up on the hospital bed with your blanket and cried. Ella, God is so good. But I know that you know that as I pray you are with Him.

And I pray, most of all, that one day I will see your beautiful face again. That I will be able to hold you and tell you how much you have been missed – every day. How much you have been a real part of my life, of our lives as a family. And, always Ella, how you are, have been, and always will be loved.

You will always be my daughter. I will always be your Momma. You will never be forgotten. Your place in our family and in my heart is secure.

With all my love, little one.

Your, Momma

On Days of Plenty

Fri, 30 Apr 2010 23:20:24 +0100

Someone recently asked me about why this site is named Days of Plenty. After all, you wouldn't normally associate pregnancy loss with a phrase such as days of plenty... So, here is the story.

We lost our first daughter, Alia Jane, in April of 2008. I went back to work after a few weeks. I was lost, I was scared and I was so very sad. I was listening to an online radio station that played broadway music (I know.. but I like it!). And this song came on. And it took the air out of my lungs.

The song comes from a broadway play entitled "Little Woman", which is based on the beloved novel by Louisa May Alcott. If you haven't read the book, first of all you should, and second of all avert your eyes. Major spoiler ahead. The song comes at the point in the story where Amy has died. Jo asks Marmie how she could possibly go on and this is her response:

I never dreamed of this sorrow,
I never thought I'd have reason to lament,
I hoped I'd never know heartbreak,
How I wish I could change the way things went!
I wanted nothing but goodness,
I wanted reason to prevail,
Not this bare emptyness.
I wanted Days of Plenty.

But I refused to feel tragic,
I am aching for more than pain and grief.
There has got to be meaning,
Most of all when a life has been so brief.
I have got to learn something,
How can I give her any less?
I want life to go on.
I want Days of Plenty

You have to Believe,
There is reason for Hope.
You have to Believe
That the answers will come.
You can't let this defeat you.
I won't less this defeat you.
You must fight to keep her there,
Within you!

So Believe that she matters!
And Believe that she always will!
She will always be with you!
She'll be part of the days you've yet to feel!
She will live in your bounty!
She will live as you carry on your life!

So carry on,
Full of Hope,
She'll be there,

For all your Days of Plenty

And here is the lovely Maureen McGovern singing the song. I hope you love it as much as I do.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kLRSW4QqMJA

On ten months..

Wed, 28 Apr 2010 23:33:40 +0100

It was ten months yesterday since we lost our sweet Ella. It's surprising how life has a way of moving on, and yet, not moving on at all. Sometimes the pain is as fresh as when we first found out she was gone. And the pain is also much deeper and more profound with the passing of time as well. I long to know her. She would be 5 months old now.. would she be like her brother and smiling and happy? Would she be crawling? Would she be sleeping through the night? How would she feel in my arms? What would her relationship be with her big brother? Was there really room in my heart for more than one child? So many questions.. and I know, as the years sadly pass, that there will be a million more.

So, for now, my heart will replay the short time I had to know her.. and whisper these words over and over..

I love you, little one. You are with me every day. You will always be my best girl and, until we are together again, I will be missing you...

We've all been there, haven't we?

Wed, 24 Mar 2010 20:12:13 +0100

That moment when someone you care for has suffered an unspeakable loss. Maybe it's the loss of a parent, a friend, a job.. maybe it's the loss of a child.

"The function of friends is to be the sounding board for grief" - Joshua Lath Liebman

Easier said than done, right? You don't know what to say, or how to say it. You don't want to make the situation worse by saying the wrong thing so... you say nothing at all and hope that time will heal your friend and things will go back to the way they were.

But the truth is, nothing will ever be the same. Your friend needs you. When people are hurting, you should run towards them, not away - even with the best intentions.

Here are some tips on how to help you reach out to a grieving friend:

Communicate that you care. Give a hug or a touch. It's okay to say little - your presence takes the place of words.

Be present. Acknowledge that you too feel helpless. Do not offer any easy answers or explanations.

Be yourself. Bring flowers, bake cookies, write a letter - however you express yourself. Offer to prepare a meal, clean the house, watch the children. And follow through. This kind of help lifts burdens and creates a bond.

Listen without judgement. Accept whatever feelings are expressed.

Respond with empathy. Avoid cliches.

Keep in touch. You may think you are being considerate by leaving the person alone, but the griever often feels abandoned. Visits and phone calls are helpful.

Be patient. There is no timetable for grief.

Assist, but do not push the griever towards recovery. Let them know that changes are okay. Remind them that their memories are always with them. Invite them to go places with you. Be there to listen. Encourage them to reach out and be involved. Be a true friend.

2010...

Wed, 06 Jan 2010 01:17:58 +0100

As happy as I am to see 2009 exit it was still profoundly sad.

As parents we expect to take our children with us from year to year. We get to watch them grow and change and hopefully ring in many New Years Eves with them.

But my sweet Ella will forever be a part of 2009 and in that way the ending of the year is bittersweet.

In honor of all of our little ones that will forever remain part of 2009. May the new year bring us peace and blessings.

Looking back..looking ahead...

Mon, 23 Nov 2009 12:12:55 +0100

There are so many people to thank who have walked this journey of grief and loss with us. Words can never adequately express our thanks and appreciation. Our hope is by giving back, we will be honoring your gift to us.

To our dear friends and family, with all of our love.

To Trish.. for allowing me to grieve and shining the light so I could find my way back...and for not letting go.

To Jennifer.. for literally holding my hand during the worst of it and for making me laugh, for keeping my room clear when I needed it and for crying with me. You exemplify what a nurse should be.

To our families at Trefoil and Vanguard. For loving us, supporting us, and allowing us to have the time we so desperately needed.

For Amy... for calling and offering your shoulder when I needed it. That phone call was the basis for this foundation.

From the bottom of our hearts..thank you.

P.S. I was incredibly remiss in forgetting one very important person.

Amy... thank you for your time, your energy, your patience and most of all, your encouragement. This website would be just an empty space without you. You are incredibly talented!

www.euforicdesign.com

Call for Volunteers!

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 14:06:45 +0100

The Days of Plenty Foundation is currently seeking volunteers to work as a care companion to families in times of perinatal loss. Please contact us for further information.