Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Loss Finds Me Again

On November 27, 2011, my world was shattered once again as I found out my only brother had passed away. Not only was that event tragic, but what made the whole situation worse was the fact that it happened one day after Gabby's Angelversary. How could I lose my daughter one year earlier, then my brother. Although, I was devestated by my brother's loss and my heart ached deeply, there was one thing that kept entering my mind. My father, has now entered the life of a grieiving parent.

As I wathched my father break down and cry, I was at a loss for words. I knew there were no words that would comfort him or ease his pain. My heart broke for my loss, but it broke more for my father. How can it be that someone like me, who knows the feeling of such a loss, not be able to provide comforting words to my father. I wanted to tell him it would be ok, that he is in a better place, that it gets easier, but I knew that none of those words were of comfort to me as I heard them and still do after one year of losing Gabby. All I could do was hug my father and tell him that I am here for him and that I loved him.

It has been 10 days since my father entered the life of a grieving parent and although he appears to be fine on the outside, I know that on the inside he is filled with so much sorrow and pain. That everytime I look at him, I know what he is thinking. There isn't a second that goes by where Gabby is not in my mind and I know that is the same for my father in regards to my brother.

Lately, it seems as if life has been throwing some very difficult blows. Each blow, seems to knock me down. Although, the blows are hard, I find my way back up and brush myself off. I will not let life keep me down, I will get up, no matter how painful the blow.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Its Been One Year

Today marks the one year anniversary of Gabby's passing. The past year has been quite a journey. A journey of many ups and downs. Today has been one of the most difficult days of this journey. It has been nearly as difficult as the day she died. I made a promise to Gabby that I will not let grief overcome me. I will remain strong, and continue to live my life honoring Gabby. With Gabby by my side, I am determined to make it through this journey.

Today, I decided to honor Gabby by taking her some beautiful red roses, an angel windchime, and some beautiful balloons that I released into the sky. I watched the balloons as they soared high above the trees, then disappear beyond the clouds, as if they entered into heaven for Gabby to grab. Just the thought of her being in one of the most beautiful places on earth, free of harm, free of pain, surrounded by angels as they sing to all our loved ones, brought so much peace and happiness to me.

As the time of her actual death draws near, I find myself coping with some of the tragic thoughts. I am finding myself reliving the last moments of her life. These thoughts often enter my mind, but have been much harder today. These thoughts, by far, have been one of the hardest parts of dealing with grief. There is nothing like reliving your child's death over and over again. I know, this is a normal part of grief, and it is a part of the PTSD I now deal with. The frequency of these thoughts are less often and I am grateful for that. I am not sure if these thoughts will ever subside completely, but I have faith that as time goes on...these thoughts will be easier to cope with.

I had a family member ask me the other day if the pain of losing my daughter has eased. I don't ever believe I will get over the pain of losing my daughter. The pain will always remain. One year after her passing, I find that I have more good days than bad. On the downside, when I do have a bad day, the pain is far greater than the bad days in the beginning. Perhaps that is because the painful days occur less often. The sad days are emotionally draining, and are a very difficult part of this journey, but to me, they just remind me of how much my daughter is missed and how much she was loved. They have become a part of my life and I have accepted that. It is for that reason, I will always welcome those sad days.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Dear God

Dear God,
In six short days it will be one year since your son...Jesus, took my daughter's hand, and lead her into Heaven's Kingdom to be with you. Although, I have come to terms with my daughter's death and have accepted it, I am still full of so many questions and there is so much I still don't understand.

I often hear people tell me to have faith and there is a reason for everything. There have been many times after Gabby's passing that I have questioned my faith. I have never doubted you or your existence, but sometimes I wonder why such awful things have to happen. Why do you allow so much pain and heartache? Why is it, I often feel so alone on my journey? Why is it that my child had to die? Why is it, that no matter how hard I try, my life gets harder? I often wonder what I did to deserve so much pain and heartache. Perhaps, I have not accepted my daughter's death. Maybe, I never will. Perhaps it is too early in my grief to know. Often, it seems as if my prayers go unanswered. One of the hardest parts of my journey has been questioning my faith. I just feel like when I need you the most, you arent here. At times, I am so angry with you. I don't want to be angry with you. I can't be angry with you! I have to have peace in my heart. Don't you understand? I need to have my faith...I need to know that my daughter and I will be together again. I need to know that someday, I will be forgiven for my doubts.

I've been told Angels know the secrets to Heaven. The secrets to the answers I long to know. My daughter is among those angels. I know in your time, I will know the answers I long for. Perhaps, one day, Gabby will whisper in the wind and tell me not to worry and that everything will be ok. Until then, I must keep my faith, and believe that although you might not answer right away...at some point...my prayers will be answered.

Love Truly,

Jen

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Picking Up The Pieces

"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone" ~Rose Kennedy

I am an angel mom. I have lived the pain that most people cannot imagine. A pain, far from any pain imaginable. A pain, that changes your life forever. It has been nine months since I began this new life. It is a life far from my old one and a life I must learn to live.

I have yet to cope with this new way of living. The person I once was...is no longer. I have not been able to identify exactly who the new me is and this is something I fight with daily. I can say that the loss of my daughter has brought many positive changes to my life. I see the beauty in things I never imagined I would. The rain, once an incovience, has become the most beautiful of all things. I imagine the rain as tears falling from heaven as the angels weep for those they miss. I always tell Gabby when the rain falls, that I miss her too. The sun, so warm, reminds me of how much my daughter loved to be in the warmth of its power. It was my daughters means of seeing from the cortical blindness that affected her vision. The moon, has become my nightlight from heaven. It shines its brightness on me as my Gabby watches from above.

After losing Gabby, I never thought there would be any beauty in life, but I was wrong. The world has become more beautiful. I never imagined I would smile again, but just like the tears come, so do the smiles and laughs. I recently found myself having a good day, something I never thought could happen after Gabby left this world. The tears that once fell daily, fall less often. I still struggle with the feeling of lonlieness and it occurs quite often. I could be surrounded by many friends and family, but yet feel so alone. I envy those parents who still have their children. I envy those who get to see their child grow, laugh, play, and do the things I will never get to enjoy with my daughter. I still deal with crying spells and have accepeted the fact that they will hit me without warning and at any place. I believe these days will be a part of my new life and will last until the day I join Gabby.

I have not overcome my child's death, nor do I think I will ever overcome it. I am grateful that my bad days have lessened and I am able to smile, laugh, and see such wonderful beauty in this world. I have a long way to go on this journey but I now have hope, and that is a big step in this journey. I have began to pick up the pieces in my life and although I know I will never be able to pick up all the pieces, what little pieces I have picked up is a great start.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

The Lesson: Patience

Dwight D. Eisenhower wrote "There's no tragedy in life like the death of a child. Things never get back to the way they were". Often, this quote runs through my mind as I try to piece together what remains of me after the loss of my daughter. It has been nearly eight months since I began this journey and and I frequently wonder what benefits could come from such a horrible and painful loss.

I have been blessed to meet some of the most amazing people throughout my journey. Individuals who know all too well, the pain of losing a child. These grieving parents have provided me with hope when I feel as if all hope is gone. They have provided me with strength when I feel my weakest and they have provided me with company when I feel my lonliest.

Although, my friends who've lost a child provide me and have comforted me in so many ways, they are not the only ones that I am grateful for. I will be forever grateful to friends, family, and my social network friends/family who have been by my side to comfort me. Since this journey begin (even before Gabby's passing) I have met some of the most amazing people. People who I may have never met, but feel their love from places and countries all over the world. Without the support of friends, family, and my social network group I would have never made it this far.

When you lose a child, the pain is unimaginable. Unless you have lost a child yourself, you cant begin to understand the pain that is felt. Although, I realize that no one is aware of my feelings except other grieving parents. I now realize that even those who are close to me, but have not lost a child, still feel my pain.

Today, I went to visit Gabby at the cemetery. On my way their, I was thinking about my journey. I started to get upset as I thought to myself, "why doesn't anyone ever talk about Gabby"? My previous answer to that question was, people have moved on, they have forgotten about Gabby. Then I thought to myself, I know no one has forgot Gabby. Death is an uncomfortable subject. It is a subject that is avoided at all cost. It is even more uncomfortable when it involves a loss as tragic as a child. I remember becoming upset as I brought up Gabby in conversations and watched those I was talking to begin showing signs of nervousness. You would often see a shifting in position, the person moving further away, and them no longer giving eye contact. I took it offensively, when really it was nothing more than a reaction to an uncomfortable subject. We have all dealt with the loss of someone in our life and it is never an easy subject to discuss. I have been guilty of changing the subjects during uncomfortable conversations or completly avoiding them all together. I became more engaged in my thoughts and wondered if I could be responsible for many of the reactions and why people are so scared to discuss the loss of my child. I will be the first to admit that I have been short with people who have said things that I feel are inappropriate. Perhaps it is this reaction that scares people from approaching grieving parents. There is a quote that says "Unless you have lost a child, don't tell me how to feel". Before my child died, I was a non-grieving parent who often said things that now offend me. I am guilty of saying "I need a break", "I just wish I could sleep", "I wish I had a day with no doctor's appointments". It wasn't until my child's passing that those things I once wanted, now became times I treasured and wish I still had. Many of us never anticipated losing our child, but it happened, and it could happen to anyone.

Patience is a necessity for grieving parents. We need to have the patience of all those in our lives. Allow us the time to grieve and heal. We will never heal completely and each person will grieve differently. Not only do I as a grieving parent need patience, but as a greiving mom I need to be patient to those who don't fully understand what I am going through...just not that long ago I was that person.

Monday, June 6, 2011

The Story of The Stone

On Sunday I was visiting Gabby at the cemetery. I took her a beautiful boquet of crazy daisies and sat next to her marker. The cemetery must have recently cut grass because there was some grass covering her marker. I gently took my hand and swept the grass off and was telling her the whole time, not to worry, that I would clean it up. Once all the grass was removed, I continued talking to Gabby. As I was talking to her, I was taking my pointer finger and was outlining the balloons and teddy bear on her marker. I was telling her how much I missed her and there wasn't a day that went by where I didn't think of her. I briefly removed my finger from her marker, looked up to the sky and told her that I loved her very much and that I wasn't sure if I was strong enough to deal with her loss. As I looked back down, I immediately saw this beautiful stone. It appeared in the same spot that I was outlining with my pointer finger. I immediately picked it up and grasped my hand tightly around it as I placed it next to my heart.

When you lose someone as close to you as a child, I have found that there are two things that keep me going. These two things are the belief that I know someday I will be reunited with her, and the other is believing that somehow, until we are reunited, she will always be near me. I can't be for sure if that stone was a coincidence or if perhaps it may have been a sign, but all I can say is that it is the small things like that in which keeps me going.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

My Dearest Gabby

Dear Gabby,
Today it has been six months since you left. Sometimes I think I am doing ok, but then I get overwhelmed with grief and its almost impossible to function. I'm not really sure if that is ever going to change or not. There isn't a minute that goes by where I don't think of you. I find myself seeing so many little ones in public and all I do is think of what you would be doing now.

Anymore, I just find life so difficult. It is so hard to continue without you by my side. Sometimes I wonder how long it will be until I am with you again. The other day someone was predicting the end of the world and I didn't even care. I'm not sure if that is normal or not. All I do is think of being with you. Sometimes I can feel your presence, but I haven't lately. I guess you must be busy playing with all the little children in heaven.

Gabby, I think of you all the time in heaven and wonder what it must be like up there. I wonder what you are doing all the time and wonder if you ever leave me signs. I love you so much Gabby.

I have to go now, I just cant continue your letter baby.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

A New Life: It's Been Nearly Five Months

In just a few short days it will be five months since I entered into a new life.  A life far from my old one, a life filled with so much emotion and confusion.  A life that leaves you asking the question "why"...a question that remains unanswered. 

April 26, 2011 will mark the five month anniversary of our daughter Gabby's death.  It was and will, remain my most life altering experience.  This post is clearly about my feelings as a bereaved parent.  These are my feelings.  My feelings may be quite different then other parents suffering such a loss.  One person's grief may not be the same as others.

In the first few weeks after Gabby's passing, life was quite a blur.  It took every ounce of energy I had to get  out of bed.  I remember waking up every morning thinking, I need to feed Gabby, get her dressed, and wondered what appointments we had for that day.  It hit me like a ton of bricks when I remembered that I no longer needed to do these things.  Once, I was able to get the strength to get out of bed, I would have to find the strength to get showered and dressed.  These easy day to day routines I once took advantage of, became a chore and became very difficult.  During this time, I was surrounded by family.  Family would do everything they could to keep me active by taking me places and just being there.  At times, I wanted to be surrounded by family, then the next minute I just wanted everyone to leave me alone. 

A month after Gabby passed, was my first holiday....Christmas.  As the holiday drew closer, I wanted so much to just crawl in a hole and not come out until it was over.  The thought of a holiday where family was all together celebrating a joyous time was out of the question.  How could I be a part of a holiday function where family would be together?  There was no way, I would be able to tolerate seeing so many of the young kids opening gifts and getting so excited when my daughter was not in attendance and never would be again.  I refused to celebrate Christmas as it was just too painful.  Instead, I spent my Christmas at the cemetery talking with Gabby. 

One week after Christmas came yet another holiday....New Year's.  Once again, I became withdrawn and depressed.  A New Year was going to soon begin and it would be a New Year without my daughter to have by my side.  Once again, as people went out to celebrate the New Year and the joy and new changes that it may bring, I refused.  Instead I found comfort in just sleeping and once again ignoring the fact that another holiday had come and passed.

Faith, a topic I once found comfort in became something I questioned.  Why, God???  Why did  you take my daughter from me?  Why did you let her die??  I began to question God's motives and wondered why we lived in a world filled with so much pain and sorrow.  I began to ask the question: "If you love us so much God, then why is there so much pain in the world"?  I became so angry at people who stated that it was "God's will".  How dare they say it was "God's Will" to take my daughter.  I use to think to myself, "if it was God's Will, then I don't want any part of a God that would take a child away from their parent".  I became so overwhelmed with guilt over this topic that I found myself visiting a Priest.  I will never forget the Priest's words as he told me "It is was not God's Will to take your child.  He did not cause your child's condition, biology caused her condition.  He doesn't purposefully, nor willingly take a child from their parents.  He doesn't cause the tragedies in this world, yet he is there in the end".  At five months, I am still struggling with questions, but I have begin to find my strength once again in God. 

Lonlieness:  As my journey began, I was surrounded by so many people.  I didn't quite feel the affects of lonlieness.  As my grief progress so does the lonliness.  It is amazing how you can be surrounded by so many people, yet feel so alone in the world.  I am not sure why this feeling did not have an impact on me early on.  Perhaps, it is because in the beginning we are overwhelmed with the comfort of cards, visitors, and phone calls.  Then as time goes on, people move on and you no longer recieve the cards, visitors, or phone calls.  You begin to wonder, did everyone forget?  No one now mentions my child although the pain of losing her is still so hard.  I can't even begin to tell you how much it means to me when someone will just send me an email or a text message that simply says "thinking of you today".  Those four simple words are sometimes the words that make a horrible day into a good day.  It lets me know that I am still being thought of and so is my child.  Those little words help ease the lonliness I often feel. 

One of the hardest feelings I go through is just sadness.  Sadness, from missing her so much.  It is amazing how much I find myself thinking of Gabby.  I honestly think of her every minute of everyday.  I think about her in heaven and what she is doing.  I think about her life on earth and the good and bad times we had.  Til this day it is almost impossible to look at baby clothes or other items because of the pain it brings me of missing her.  Songs will come on the radio that will just make you burst into tears because it reminds me of her.  One of the songs I hear frequently is "The Climb" by Miley Cyrus.  I always said that was Gabby's theme song because she had so many obstacles to overcome.  Gabby and I use to listen to it often and it was even the first song that was played when you opened her blog.  It is amazing how you can be so full of smiles and having a decent day, then in a split second you are hysterically crying and screaming "Why"?  The sadness is by far the most difficult part of my grieving.  It hits often and in a split second.

Many people tell you that you will get over it, but I know I will never get over it.  I will get through it, but never over it.  I will always be forever changed and I will always go through my time of grieving.  Nearly five months into my grief and I am beginning to find that the pain does ease.  I am aware that the pain of losing my child will always be present, and that the pain will forever be a part of me.         

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Thank You God

When Gabby was first born and we found out her diagnosis of Hydranencephaly, there were many questions that were asked by family, friends, and people we met throughout her life.  The question most frequently asked was "do you wish you would've known about her condition sooner"?  Til this day, my answer remains the same...."No".  Some of my most joyful times with Gabby was when I was pregnant.

Being pregnant with Gabby was the most wonderful experience in my life.  We found out at 20 weeks that we were going to be the proud parents of a beautiful baby girl.  I was on top of the world, not only was I going to be a mom, but I was having a daughter.  My dream had finally come true.  The gentle feel of her moving inside me was the most amazing feeling ever.  Mommy and Daddy would spend everynight talking to her and letting Gabby know how much we loved her and couldn't wait for her arrival.  I enjoyed all the joyous moments that expecting mothers have such as decorating her room, the baby showers, shopping for Gabby, and mostly her arrival.

Three days after Gabby was born, we found that the dreams we once had for Gabby, were now shattered by a horrifying diagnosis.  We were given no hope for our baby girl as the doctors told us not to get attached, and that she would be gone within months.  From that moment on, the joy I felt during my pregnancy was gone and was replaced with sadness and grief.  Instead of thinking of our daughter's future, all I could think about was planning a funeral.  I kept asking "why me", "why Gabby", "what did she do to deserve this".  I spent days holding her and crying and always thinking the worst.  I became so depressed and filled with anxiety that I needed medication to help me get through each day.  Everyday we feared the inevitable.  I became so obsessed with keeping her healthy that I sheltered her from life.  Rarely did she leave our home because of the fear of her getting ill.  I didn't allow her to play with other children in fear of germs, and going into public places was prohibited because I feared illness so much.

I spent all of Gabby's living years grieving for her and because of this I prohibited her from living life to the fullest.  I was selfish and didn't allow her to do many things because of my fear.  The only time I allowed her to experience life was when I was pregnant with her.  I never sheltered her while I was pregnant.  She experienced the world as I did.  I can't help but thank God for not allowing us to know sooner.  If I did, I know I would've began my grieving sooner and never enjoyed the many things I did while I was pregnant.

Special Note:  Try not to grieve the living years, be joyous for every minute your child is alive and well.  ~Jennifer Bauer       

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Our Precious Gift: Unconditional Love

On June 24, 2009, our family was blessed with the most amazing gift.  It was the gift of Gabrielle “Gabby” Jane, our beautiful baby born with a terminal condition of Hydranencephaly.  Although, Gabby’s life on this earth was brief she brought us something that we will cherish forever…Unconditional Love. 

I go back to the days in June 2009, when Jason and I met with an intimidating amount of doctors.  We were taken to a conference room in Children’s Hospital and took our seats at the table surrounded by these numerous Physicians.  I sat at that table frozen as the doctors began throwing out their questions.  “Are you aware of the severity of your child’s condition”, “Are you prepared to take care of a child with such great needs”, “what is your understanding of her condition”, “Are you aware that your child is going to die”, “What are your plans with DNR”.  I was overwhelmed with the horrific questions, but what devastated me the most was when one doctor said the words “your daughter will live life in a vegetative state.  She will never have consciousness, be aware of her surroundings, she will not know who you are, and she will never love”.  My heart shattered and all I could do was cry as I thought that our child will never know who her mom and dad is, I would never know if she loved us, and that she would never be aware of how much we loved her. 

When we brought Gabby home for the first time, we were terrified.  Gabby was my first child.  I was a brand new mom and brand new mothers are terrified, let alone one who has a medically fragile baby.  She wasn’t able to regulate her temperature so she was always hypothermic.  The only means of keeping her warm was through heating blankets and body heat.  Her means of nutrition was through a NG feed tube and I feared aspiration and had panic attacks every time I fed her.  You had the fear every morning when you awoke that she would be lifeless in her bed.  I know that sounds morbid, but when you are told that your child will die within months and her death will most likely occur when she is sleeping due to her forgetting to breathe, that is a thought that is instilled in your head and you fear it. 

Shortly after arriving home, Gabby had her first pediatrician appointment.  Her pediatrician had been in contact with Children’s and was aware of her condition and her prognosis.  I remember the first time he came into the office.  He picked her up, examined her, asked me a few developmental questions that they always ask then says I can take her.  As I took Gabby, he wrote notes in Gabby's file.  He then sits down and asks me how I was doing.  I broke down and said that I was terrified.  I had no idea what I was doing.  His words, I will never forget, he said “take her home and treat her like any other child”.  I couldn’t believe that for once a doctor said something good.  Well, that is exactly what we did.   We treated Gabby like any other child, meaning we put no limitations on her. 

Gabby started to excel in things.  She was rolling on her side by two weeks, eating by mouth, began crying to express her needs and wants, grabbing objects, holding onto your fingers, smiling, and so much more.  She was doing amazing things.  The thing that amazed us the most was that she was showing love and affection.  Her kisses filled us with joy and her smiles when she heard our voices brightened our days.   

   Gabby expressed love to those she knew the most, and that was family.  Gabby, had no cortex, she was born with no brain, other than her brain stem.  Gabby’s love came with no conditions.  She never expected anything from anyone.  She never saw the bad in people.  She didn’t get mad about the mistakes I made taking care of her.  Gabby’s love came with no limitations or expectations.  She accomplished in her seventeen months on earth what some of us spend our lifetime trying to accomplish.  She was truly an amazing child that gave us the best present, Unconditional Love. 

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Don't Be Afraid

Her pictures are scattered throughout my room and within the house.  Her molded hand and feet prints are next to my bed along with a baggie of her hair from the hospital.  As I lay down for bed, her blankets and stuffed unicorn that I received from her hospice nurses lay next to me.  I wrap my  arms tightly around those things as I fall to sleep each night.  This helps me to cope and makes me feel comforted.

As a parent who is new to grief, I find myself asking the questions "why wont anyone mention my daughter's name"?  I don't take offense to this, because I know the answer to that question.....they are afraid.  They have not forgotten my daughter, they are afraid to mention her name because of fear it may hurt me and make me cry.  Don't be afraid when you see me to ask "how I am doing", don't be afraid to mention "Gabby's" name, and definitely don't be afraid to talk about her memories and say "Remember when Gabby held her own bottle".

You see, the only thing I am afraid of is people forgetting about Gabby.  Gabby was an amazing child who gave so much to so many in such a short time.  I want everyone who knew her to remember her and allow her legacy to live on.  If her name is mentioned, I will likely cry, but not because you made me think of her.  There isn't a minute of the day that goes by where I am not thinking of her.  My tears will be from the pain and hurt of losing her, not because her name was mentioned.  They will be tears of joy as well, it means someone has kept my daughters memory alive, and for that I will be forever grateful.

Please Don't Be Afraid.....   

Monday, January 24, 2011

"Grief" My Never Ending Ride

It has been nearly two months since I heard those words that all parents fear, the words I relive everyday, "I'm sorry, but she didn't make it" haunt my daily life.  Unfortionately, these are the words I knew I would someday hear after my daughter's diagnosis of Hydranencephaly ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hydranencephaly).  Although, I knew the grim reality of this diagnosis and accepted the fact that I would most likely outlive my child, it never prepared me for the never-ending roller coaster ride I am now on. 

"Grief" is the name of this roller coaster ride that I find myself on.  It is a bumpy ride filled with many ups and downs and no matter how hard I try to stop this ride, it will not.  I find myself climbing the hills of happiness as I remember the pleasant thoughts of our daughter and the amazing joy she brought to our life.  These are the days I think to myself "Everything will be okay". 

Unfortionately, with every hill you go up, you must come back down.  Going down happens quickly, without warning.  It is unclear when it is coming, and takes your breath away.  Your stomach flips as you are overwhelmed with fear, anxiety, and sadness.  These are the days I think to myself "I can't do this anymore, when will it stop".

Although, I am on one of the most scariest rides, I have faith that this ride, like all others, will become easier.  I believe the fear I am feeling will soon subside and I will learn to deal with the ups and downs as they come.  I realize I am on a ride that is never-ending, but with time this ride will become smoother and much easier to deal with. 

For everyone, grief is different.  There is no set time frame on when the pain will ease or how we will deal with it.  Grief has many stages and you never know how long one stage may last.  It is common to go through stages more than once.  For those who are dealing with grief, be patient with yourself.  Allow yourself to go through each stage and never be afraid to ask for support if needed.        

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Dear Gabby

Dear Gabby,

Today I sit and look at your pictures, but that is nothing new, I look at your pictures daily.  As I look at your pictures, I try to think of your beautiful soft skin and what it felt like to touch you.    You had the smoothest, most flawless skin in the world.  I am so scared that I am going to forget what you felt like.  It's been over a month now since I last held you and my arms are so empty without you. 

I go to the cemetery almost daily and feel such comfort in our visits.  Your headstone should be coming in soon.  At times I can't wait for your headstone to come in, but then I dread it because it makes your death so final.  I don't know if I'm ready for your death to be final.  At times, I dream that you come back to life and the doctors just say "Gabby's back" and go about their business.  Then I wake up and realize it was just a dream and that you are never coming back.

Since you been gone, I have tried getting back into the swing of things.  Going back to work and just learning how to go about living half alive.  That's how I live, half alive, because when you left, a peice of me died along with you.  My heart shattered into a million peices when you died and I am not sure if my heart will ever be in one peice again.  I have faith that time does ease pain, but I know that I will always ache for you. 

I often think of the conversation we had weeks prior to your death.  It was the conversation in which I told you that if you ever got too tired or were in too much pain, that mommy would understand if you needed to move on.  I get so angry at myself for giving you permission to leave me, but your life was full of suffering.  Doctors wanted you on valium six times a day and versed as needed.  We watched as you had more "storms" and just saw the misery in your eyes.  You were so tired and just wore out.  I wanted you to know that you had permission to move on if needed.  I just didn't think you would go so soon.  I thought you would do your magic and that you would pop out of it and be fine like you did so many times before.  We always said "Gabby never does anything she don't want to"  so I know you were ready to move on and I just need to accept that.  Mommy is just being selfish because she don't have you anymore.  I need to learn to be happy for you because you are at peace now and are no longer suffering. 

Mommy will be strong for you and will get through this.  It is going to be difficult, but I know that I can do it.  I never make promises, but I am going to make a promise to you and that promise is that I will get through this.  I have four words for you Gabby and that is "Blink Of An Eye", in other words, someday I believe that I will see you and hold you again and when that time comes, however long it may be, it will be in "Blink Of An Eye".   

Love Always,
Mommy